Most of us would never shrug off a slur against someone we love—yet we’ve grown comfortable around casual, empty uses of the name of the God we say we follow. The Third Commandment challenges us on that laxness.
Changing the world for God can sound easier than loving the people close enough to frustrate us. But that’s precisely what God calls us to by calling us to honor the first R20;neighbors” we’ll ever know: our parents.
It is easy to read “You shall not commit adultery” and decide that command belongs to someone else. But in Matthew 5, Jesus carries it beyond the outward act into the hidden life of our looks, desires, and thoughts—so where does that leave any of us, and why does God care so deeply about our purity?
We may think it’d be nice if there were a device where we could make people tell the truth. But, what about ourselves? We take credit that belongs to someone else, withhold truth when it could help, or pass along a claim we have not checked. How out of control are our own words everyday?
As the Israelites finds themselves out in the wilderness for years, Numbers 20 shows a people in a fog of discouragement — even Moses himself loses sight of what God is doing. But even when the discouragement feels overwhelming, we don’t have to let it get the final word.
An ox knows who feeds it; a donkey knows its master’s crib. But what about God’s people — including us? We forget.
Why does it seem like we declare God’s victory, and yet it often doesn’t feel very victorious? When Christmas joy collides with year-end weariness and plans that never quite landed, Revelation 12 can help us better understand where that elusive victory really is.
We turn onto the lane that looks like home, only to find barriers on both sides and nowhere left to go. Foot still on the accelerator, locked on the road to death, the only hope we have is mercy—and Ephesians 1:7 speaks right into that place: in him we have redemption through his blood.
You can confess Jesus as Lord, cast out demons, do mighty works—and still hear him say, R20;I never knew you.” Matthew 7:21–23 cuts past everything we think proves we’re his followers, asking instead the question that actually matters: Does he know you?
The decorations come down, the calendar turns, and Christmas recedes into memory—but Matthew 2 insists there’s something that doesn’t go out of season. And if the Gospel doesn’t go out of season, are we keeping ourselves focused on where it is pointing us?