Most of us have something we’d rather not put on the table before God—something we’re holding just tightly enough that we hope He won’t notice. In Luke 18, a ruler who has kept the commandments since his youth comes to Jesus asking what he still must do to inherit eternal life, and Jesus names exactly the one thing he isn’t ready to hear.
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 “neighbors” we’ll ever know: our parents.
In an uncertain world that is frequently perplexed — at best — about the Bible and those who follow Jesus, we have hope: the early church faced the same things. Join us as the FaithTree Men’s Bible Study begins a new adventure through the Book of Acts, looking at how God enabled His Gospel to spread across the world using His people… and how He continues to use us today.
When life feels unpredictable, we reach for security blankets of money, health, and plans that promise safety. Jesus opens the Sermon on the Mount by telling us we’re seeking security in the wrong places: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Mothers mourn over children falling away, over ones they’ve outlived, over the ache of children they never had. That grief feels heavy for Mother’s Day, yet Jesus declares in Matthew 5:4, “Blessed are those who mourn.” How is it blessed to mourn?
We’re good at looking pure—saying the right things, following the right rules, putting on the kind of life that earns approving nods—and that’s precisely the trap Jesus names in Matthew 5:8 when he calls the pure in heart blessed, not the pure in appearance.
When something’s keeping you up at night—an unexpected bill, a looming deadline, a need you can’t see your way through—it’s easy to wonder whether those worries are too ordinary to bring to God. Jesus is clear in the next part of the Lord’s Prayer that simply isn’t the case.
Jim Wolfe traces God’s redemptive plan through four Old Testament “roadside attractions” that foreshadow Christ — skins, boxes, baskets, and snakes. Along that scenic route, we arrive at the true meaning of Christmas, an attraction we actually need.
Pharmaceutical commercials fill the screen with daisy fields and frolicking joy so you’ll tune out the side effects. Are God’s Commandments filled with killer side effects, too?
We love remembering that Jesus overturned tables in the temple—especially when we imagine them belonging to someone else. But in Luke 19:45–48 when Jesus drives out those who sold, and declares, “My house shall be a house of prayer,” His challenge isn’t just to those people who annoy us. What might He overturn when our own convenience, usefulness, and preferences begin to define worship?