We want God’s wisdom, yet often what we really want is an advantage—something that makes us look right, strong, and worthy of respect. In James 3:13–17, wisdom from above takes a startlingly different shape: meek conduct, mercy, gentleness, and a willingness to be taught. What does that wisdom ask of us as we wait for Jesus to return?
We like life easy, so when following Jesus brings bumps instead of the smoother path we expected, we wonder what went wrong. Luke 9 reminds us that Jesus never promised following him would meet that expectation.
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 hear “You shall not make for yourself a carved image” and assume the second commandment is aimed for some folks worshipping a metal statue long ago. But the same human frailty that raised the golden calf still reaches for something visible, manageable, and reassuring. What have we begun to trust, protect, or worship in place of the God who rescued us?
Clear words can still sail right past us when they aren’t the news we want. In Luke 18, Jesus tells the Twelve exactly what’s about to happen to Him, yet they were just like us: they didn’t want to hear.
Paul left a wide path of destruction as he went city to city persecuting God’s people, and yet in 1 Timothy 1:15, even as he names himself the foremost of sinners Jesus came to save, he can say that last part: Jesus came to save him. And He came to save us, too.
We live in a world of constant flux, where nothing is truly stable and even the things that feel permanent haven’t been around that long. Yet Ephesians 1 takes us further back than any of it: God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world.
When carefully made plans fall apart, we can start to wonder whether anyone has both the power and the care to make things right. John 1 takes us back before creation, declaring that the Word was God and then became flesh to dwell among us. What does that mean for the “ifs” we bring to God when life feels beyond repair?
We come to the Bible hungry for a fix—something for our problems, our inner turmoil, our next step. Genesis 1 and 2 refuse to make us the point. The story opens with four words that name the main character, and it isn’t you.