It’s easy to be busy with the Christian life—programs, good intentions, real effort—and still be missing the one thing that keeps it all from exploding. In Ephesians 1:15–16, Paul looks at believers whose faith in Jesus is visibly pouring out as love toward one another, and what he does in response is the piece we most often skip.
Most of us would rather keep our doubts quiet than be caught not having it all figured out—especially around people who assume we do. Nicodemus, one of the most respected religious teachers of his day, came to Jesus under cover of night with exactly that tension, and in John 3 Jesus meets him there, in the dark, unfinished.
Most of us have never gone without a meal, yet Jesus in Matthew 5:6 calls us to feel that ravenous, stomach-aching hunger—not for food, but for righteousness. Do we feel that craving?
Rules, hypocrisy, conflict—those are the words people most often reach for when they describe the church, and if we’re honest, we’ve sometimes given them reason to. Galatians 5 doesn’t flinch from that indictment; it sets the works of the flesh against a vision of the church so different, so beautiful, that it could only come from one source.
When fear and uncertainty close in, we don’t just want comfort—we want control, something solid we can hold onto. In Exodus 32, Israel melts down the very gold God gave them in Egypt to cast a god they can see, and the impulse driving that golden calf is closer to our own hearts than we’d like to admit.
We’ve all looked at this world and thought, it just doesn’t seem like God’s will is being done. Underneath that thought is a deeper fear that God’s reserve of will and ability runs dry the way ours does. That fear is exactly what Jesus targets when He teaches us to pray “your will be done.”
We live in an information age, bombarded with worldly wisdom, theological wisdom, biblical wisdom, and endless “pratical” wisdom for Christian living—and much of it may actually be wise. Yet Paul’s words encourage us to ask: “Does all this knowledge lead us to know God, or have we mistaken knowing things about Him for knowing Him?”
Most of us are quicker to panic over a dying phone battery than over a dying spiritual one—we coast along, confident we’re fine, while the indicator drops lower than we’d ever admit. As Jesus calls a written-off man in Jericho, He challenges all of us on this: “Do we know how much we need Him?”
When we’re desperate for direction, we tend to reach for whatever voice sounds most confident, be it horoscopes, politicians or just about anyone who seems to know something we don’t. Deuteronomy 18 speaks to our searching, reminding us God has never left His people without a trustworthy voice to follow, and what He promised there points somewhere specific.