Who Is in the Boat With You?
There is a phrase that gets passed around in church circles so often it can start to feel like wallpaper. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good. We say it after the job comes through. We say it when the test results come back clean. We say it when life is moving in a direction that feels like blessing. But what about when the storm hits? What about when the diagnosis is devastating, the marriage is fracturing, the finances are gone, and the bottom has fallen out? Do we still say it then?
That question is at the heart of one of the most dramatic scenes recorded in the Gospel of Mark.
A Storm Worth Taking Seriously
In Mark chapter 4, after a long day of teaching, Jesus and his disciples climb into a boat and set out across the Sea of Galilee. What follows is not a gentle afternoon squall. Mark uses language that carries the force of a hurricane to describe what arose on that water. Matthew, recording the same event in his gospel, uses a word with seismic connotations, the kind of language reserved for earthquakes. This was a storm of extraordinary violence.
And some of these men in the boat were veteran fishermen. They had spent their lives on that sea. They had weathered storms before. But this one had them terrified.
Here is something worth noting before going any further. Not every storm in life is a sign that something has gone wrong. Sometimes, yes, difficulty arrives as a consequence of choices we should not have made. The writer of Hebrews reminds us in chapter 12 that God disciplines those he loves, and sometimes a storm is that discipline calling us back. But in this particular story, the disciples were in that boat because Jesus told them to get in it. He said, let us go to the other side. Their obedience led them directly into the storm. Following Jesus faithfully does not guarantee smooth water. Sometimes it guarantees the opposite.
The Sleeping God
Here is the detail in this story that stops everyone cold. While the storm is raging, while the waves are crashing into the boat and the vessel is filling with water, while grown men who know the sea are panicking, Jesus is asleep on a cushion in the stern of the boat.
This is not a small theological footnote. This is a window into something profound about who Jesus is.
He was exhausted. He had spent the entire day teaching crowds so large he had to speak from a boat just to address them all. His tiredness was real. His sleep was the sleep of a man whose body needed rest. The Son of God got hungry. He wept. He felt the full weight of human experience. The one in that boat was not a divine figure merely performing humanity. He was fully human, and that matters enormously, because it means the God who is with us in our storms is not watching from a comfortable distance. He has been in the boat. He knows what the wind sounds like up close.
But there is something else in that sleep. It reflects a trust in the providential care of his Father that is itself a kind of sermon. Jesus knew what lay ahead. He knew the cross was coming. He knew the tomb was coming. He also knew that what God begins, God finishes. Paul would later express this same confidence in Philippians 1, describing his certainty that the one who began a good work would carry it through to completion. Jesus could sleep in the hurricane because his life was held in the hands of his Father, and those hands do not let go.
Peace, Be Still
The disciples wake him. Their question is raw and honest: do you not care that we are perishing? It is the question every human heart has asked in one form or another during seasons of genuine suffering. Lord, do you see this? Do you care?
What happens next is the center of everything.
Jesus stands up and speaks to the storm. He rebukes the wind. He says to the sea, peace, be still. In the original Greek, the command carries the idea of being muzzled, of being silenced and staying silent. It is not a prayer. It is not a request. It is a word of authority spoken by one who has the right to speak it.
And the storm stops. Not gradually. Not over the next several minutes as storms naturally wind down. Instantly. The wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
The disciples would have known their scriptures. They would have known that the Psalms describe God alone as the one who can still the seas. And now they are watching a man do it with three words. Their response is the only appropriate one: they were filled with great awe and asked one another who this could be, that even the wind and the sea obey him.
The Point Is Not the Storm
It would be easy to walk away from this story thinking the main message is that Jesus will calm your storms. And sometimes he does. But that reading misses the deeper truth the passage is driving toward.
Jesus may not calm every storm you face. The diagnosis may not clear. The marriage may not recover. The financial pressure may not lift. The Bible does not promise that following Jesus means living in perpetual calm. What it promises is something far greater: you are never alone.
The one who silenced a hurricane with a word is the same one who, for those who have trusted him, has sent his Spirit to dwell within them. The power that raised Jesus from the dead, that stilled that ancient storm, is not far off. It is present. It is near. It is in the boat.
The goodness of God is not measured by whether the storm stops. It is measured by the presence of the one who is with you in it.
God is good all the time. All means all. Even in the storm. Even in the dark. Even when the waves are still rising.
He is in the boat. And that changes everything.

Looking at the picture above from left to right.

The first cup looks like nothing more than dirt. A seed has been planted beneath the surface, but you cannot see it. There is no stem, no leaf, and no visible evidence that anything is happening. The second cup has a tiny sprout beginning to push through the soil. Something is clearly happening now. The third has a plant that has obviously been growing for a while.

Here is the question: Which cup is growing?

The easy answer might be the second and third cups because those are the ones where we can actually see growth. The better answer is that all three could be growing. One is just growing in a place we cannot see yet.

That first cup might look like nothing but dirt from our perspective. Underneath the surface, the seed could already be opening. Roots could be pushing downward. Life could already be developing. Our inability to see what is happening does not mean nothing is happening.
Life with Jesus can feel a lot like that first cup.

There are seasons when you pray, but nothing seems to change. You open your Bible, but you do not feel like you are growing. You ask God to work in your family, yet the situation stays the same. You pray for a friend who is far from Jesus, but they still seem uninterested. You fight the same temptation again. You ask God for direction, but the answer does not come.

Eventually, the question starts creeping into your mind: “God, are You doing anything?”

Mark 4:26–29 gives us a picture for those seasons. Jesus describes the kingdom of God through something incredibly ordinary. A farmer walks into a field, scatters seed on the ground, then waits. The story is only a few verses long, but tucked inside it is a truth we desperately need when we cannot understand what God is doing.

Just because you cannot see God working does not mean God is not working.

Plant What God Has Given You
Jesus says, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground” (Mark 4:26). The farmer has a responsibility. He takes the seed he has been given and puts it into the ground. He cannot force the seed to grow. He cannot reach beneath the soil and manufacture life. He can simply plant.

The same is true in our lives. There are things God has called us to do, but there are also things only God can do. We can share the Gospel, but we cannot save someone. We can pray for our children, but we cannot change their hearts. We can invite someone to church, but we cannot make them respond. We can faithfully teach Scripture, but we cannot produce spiritual transformation in another person. That distinction matters because we can exhaust ourselves trying to accomplish something God never gave us the power to accomplish.

Our responsibility is faithfulness. The results belong to God.

Sometimes planting looks incredibly ordinary. It is inviting a friend to church. It is telling someone what Jesus has done in your life. It is praying for your children again even when you have prayed the same prayer hundreds of times. It is opening your Bible on a morning when you do not feel particularly spiritual. It is choosing obedience when nobody is watching.
We often become so consumed with results that we stop planting. We wonder what happens if they say no. We worry about what happens if nothing changes. We question whether it matters if nobody notices. Faithfulness keeps planting because obedience does not depend on our ability to guarantee an outcome. We plant what God has placed in our hands, then trust Him to accomplish what only He can accomplish.

Wait When You Cannot See It
Jesus continues the parable by saying the farmer “sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how” (Mark 4:27). I love that picture because the farmer plants the seed, then he goes to bed. He gets up the next morning and continues living. Night comes again. Morning comes again. The process continues while something beneath the soil is changing. The farmer cannot see it. He does not fully understand it. He certainly does not control it. Something is happening anyway.

That is where this parable becomes incredibly personal because most of us struggle with waiting. We live in a world built around instant results. We track packages from the moment we order them. We get irritated when a website takes too long to load. We send a text and wonder why someone has not responded five minutes later. We post something and immediately check who has seen it.

That expectation can quietly creep into our relationship with God. We pray, then expect something to happen. We read Scripture for a few days, then expect ourselves to feel completely different. We invite someone to church once, then assume they are never coming because they said no. We ask God to change a situation, then become discouraged when the answer does not come on our timeline.

God does not always work according to our demand for immediate results.

Go back to that first cup. From the outside, it is still just dirt. If the seed is beginning to open underneath the soil, you cannot see it. If the roots are beginning to spread, you cannot see them. If life has started developing inside that seed, you cannot see that either.
The question is not whether you can see it. The question is whether something could be happening even when you cannot.

Do not mistake “I cannot see it” for “God is not doing it.”

Maybe you have been praying for someone you love to know Jesus. Keep praying. 

Maybe you have started reading Scripture but feel like you barely understand what you are reading. Keep reading.

Maybe you are fighting a sin that once completely controlled you, but you are discouraged because the temptation has not disappeared. Keep fighting. 

Maybe you are trying to follow Jesus faithfully, yet you look around and feel like everyone else is further ahead. Keep following.

You do not know everything God is doing under the surface.

Some of God’s most important work in our lives happens where nobody else can see it. 

Nobody applauds the quiet morning when you open your Bible. Nobody celebrates the moment you choose not to click something you know you should not see. Nobody gives you recognition for forgiving someone who hurt you. Nobody knows about every prayer whispered when you are alone.

Those moments are roots. We love visible fruit, but visible fruit depends upon invisible roots. A healthy tree does not begin with branches stretching toward the sky. It begins beneath the dirt, developing something strong enough to support what will eventually become visible.
The same can be true spiritually. God may be developing convictions today that you will desperately need five years from now. He may be teaching you to trust Him in a small situation because a larger one is coming. He may be deepening your understanding of Scripture long before you realize how much you have learned. He may be using a season that feels painfully slow to grow roots that will hold you steady later. God does some of His deepest work under the surface.

Grow at God’s Pace
Mark 4:28 moves from waiting to growth. Jesus says, “The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear.”
Notice the progression. First the blade. Then the ear. Then the full grain. Jesus describes growth in stages. The seed does not go into the ground tonight and become a mature plant tomorrow. Growth takes time.

That truth should give us some freedom because we are often frustrated with ourselves for not being where someone else is spiritually. We look at another person and think they know more Scripture, pray better, serve more, or seem closer to Jesus. Comparison makes us overlook the work God is actually doing in us because we are obsessed with what He appears to be doing in somebody else.

Stop expecting full grain when God is growing the blade.

Maybe a year ago you never opened your Bible, but now you are reading it several times a week. That is growth.

Maybe you were once terrified to talk about Jesus, but recently you invited someone to church. That is growth.

Maybe you used to immediately surrender to a temptation, but now you are learning to fight it. That is growth.

Maybe church once felt like something you simply attended, but now you genuinely want to know Jesus. That is growth.

Spiritual growth does not always announce itself. Sometimes you recognize it only when you stop and look backward.

Think about who you were one year ago. Think about what mattered to you, how you responded to difficulty, how you viewed Scripture, how you prayed, how you handled temptation, and how you treated people. God may have done more than you realize.
Do not despise what God is growing simply because it is not finished yet.

Trust God With the Harvest
The parable eventually reaches Mark 4:29, where Jesus says the grain becomes ripe and the harvest comes. The farmer who planted and waited finally sees what was developing all along.

The kingdom is moving somewhere. God is accomplishing His purposes. The waiting is not meaningless. The process is not random. God knows what He is doing even when we do not understand what He is doing. That means we can trust God with the timing. We can trust Him when we see the plant breaking through the ground. We can trust Him when we see only a tiny sprout. We can trust Him when all we can see is dirt.

The Gospel gives us the greatest example of this truth.

Jesus was crucified on a Friday. His disciples watched Him die. His body was taken down from the cross and placed inside a tomb. A stone was rolled across the entrance. Everything they had hoped for appeared to be buried behind it. Saturday came, and the tomb remained closed. Imagine what that day must have felt like for the disciples. From their perspective, it looked like nothing was happening. Their Savior was dead. Their hope seemed buried. Their future made no sense. Sunday revealed that God had not lost control of the story.
Jesus rose from the grave. The tomb was empty. Death had been defeated. What looked like defeat became victory. What looked finished was not finished. What looked hopeless was not hopeless.

The Gospel reminds us that our hope is not found in our ability to make ourselves better. We have all sinned, and we cannot fix the separation our sin has created between us and a holy God. Jesus lived the life we could never live, died the death our sin deserved, and rose from the grave. Salvation comes through repentance and faith in Him.
The same Jesus who walked out of the grave can be trusted when our lives look like nothing more than dirt.

So, Which Cup Is Growing? Go back to the three cups.
One has a mature plant. The growth is obvious. One has a small sprout. The growth is beginning to show. One still looks like a cup filled with dirt.

Which one is growing?
The truth is that we cannot always tell simply by looking at the surface. The cup that appears to have nothing happening could have a seed breaking open beneath the soil. Roots could already be forming. Something could be happening that has not become visible yet.
Maybe right now your life feels like that cup.

You have planted. You have prayed. You have tried to obey. You have waited. You still cannot see anything happening. The temptation is to dig up the seed, give up on the process, or assume God has forgotten you.

Keep planting. Keep praying. Keep opening your Bible. Keep showing up. Keep fighting sin. Keep sharing the Gospel. Keep loving your family. Keep serving when nobody notices. Keep obeying what God has already told you to do.

Faithfulness does not require knowing the outcome. Faithfulness means trusting the One who does.

There will be seasons when you see the blade break through and you can clearly recognize what God is doing. There will be other seasons when you stare at the dirt and wonder whether anything is happening at all. Both seasons require trust.

Plant what God has given you. Wait on what only God can do. Trust Him with the growth.
The next time life feels like nothing more than a cup of dirt, remember the seed. There was a period when something was happening even though nobody could see it. Your inability to see beneath the surface did not stop the seed from growing. The same truth can remind us to trust God. Just because you cannot see God working does not mean God is not working. Sometimes God is doing His deepest work under the surface.

Small Seeds, Lasting Impact: How the Kingdom of God Grows
There is a story from 1886 about a pharmacist in Atlanta who mixed a syrup with carbonated water, convinced it would heal diseases and cure addictions. He sold his first glass for five cents. That first year, he averaged nine glasses a day, totaling fifty dollars in revenue against seventy dollars in costs. He lost twenty dollars. By any reasonable measure, it was a failure.
Today, two billion glasses of that drink are enjoyed in over two hundred countries, generating roughly thirty-five billion dollars in annual sales. Ninety-four percent of the world's population recognizes the logo. What appeared inconsequential in its beginning became something universal and transformative.
Now consider this: if a carbonated beverage can grow from a five-cent glass to a global phenomenon in just over a century, what can the kingdom of God accomplish across eternity?
That is the question sitting at the heart of Mark chapter four.
A Lamp Is Not Meant to Be Hidden
Mark chapter four contains a series of parables that build upon one another. After the well-known parable of the sower and the soils, Jesus asks a pointed question: does anyone bring a lamp inside and hide it under a basket or a bed? Of course not. A lamp is placed on a stand so that its light fills the room.
The connection Jesus is drawing is deliberate and striking. The seed that takes root in good soil does not simply stay there. It becomes a lamp. A transformed life is not a private possession. It is a light set on a stand for others to see.
In John chapter eight, verse twelve, Jesus declares himself to be the light of the world. In John chapter one, he is described as the light of men and the one true light. This is no ordinary lamp being discussed in Mark four. This is the gospel of Jesus Christ, the good news that was once hidden and is now fully revealed.
Paul captures this same truth in Colossians chapter one, verse twenty-six, summarizing what the mystery of God is: a truth previously hidden from ages and generations, now made known to his saints. And what is that mystery? Christ in you, the hope of glory. It is not secret knowledge reserved for a select few. It is the good news meant to be proclaimed openly, shouted from rooftops, and carried to every corner of the earth.
Hearing Is an Investment That Compounds
Jesus follows the lamp illustration with a striking statement about measure. In Mark chapter four, verse twenty-four, he says that the same measure a person uses will be measured back to them. To those who hear, more will be given. From those who do not hear, even what they have will be taken away.
This is one of the harder sayings in the Gospels, but its meaning becomes clearer when considered carefully. Spiritually speaking, there is no neutral ground. A person is either moving forward in their faith or drifting backward. The Christian life leaks. Yesterday's quiet time cannot sustain today's spiritual needs. Last week's sermon cannot carry a person through a month of neglect.
James chapter one, verse twenty-one captures the right posture for receiving God's Word. He urges readers to lay aside all filthiness and overflow of wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted Word, which is able to save the soul. The image of implanted seed is deliberate. The Word is not meant to be merely heard and forgotten. It is meant to take root, grow, and bear fruit.
Psalm one paints a vivid picture of the person who meditates on God's Word day and night. That person is described as a tree planted by rivers of water, bringing forth fruit in season, whose leaf does not wither, and whatever they do prospers. The Word of God is not a box to be checked. It is water for the soul, and a soul without it will eventually dry out.
Sow the Seed and Sleep Well
In Mark chapter four, verse twenty-six, Jesus tells another parable. A man scatters seed on the ground. He sleeps at night and rises by day. The seed sprouts and grows, and he does not know how. The earth yields crops by itself, first the blade, then the head, then the full grain. When it is ripe, he puts in the sickle because the harvest has come.
The point is unmistakable. The farmer's job is to sow. The growth belongs to God. Paul states this plainly in First Corinthians chapter three, verse six: he planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase. The farmer cannot manufacture growth through technique, effort, or anxiety. He simply scatters seed, trusts the soil, and rests.
This is a word of profound freedom for anyone who has prayed for a wayward child, shared the gospel with a skeptical friend, or interceded for a family member who seems unmoved. The responsibility is to sow faithfully. The responsibility for the harvest belongs to God.
A Mustard Seed and a World Changed
Jesus closes this sequence of parables with the image of a mustard seed, the smallest of seeds, which grows into a large plant where birds find shelter. It is a picture of the kingdom of God: small in its beginning, vast in its reach.
Christianity began with a handful of Galilean fishermen gathered around a homeless man from Nazareth. From that tiny beginning, God built something that has reshaped the world. Hospitals, orphanages, care for the poor, the dignity of every human life made in the image of God as described in Genesis chapter one, verse twenty-seven, the equality of all people in Christ as declared in the New Testament. Everywhere the gospel has taken root, it has brought mercy to the suffering and hope to the hopeless.
The kingdom of God grows slowly, surely, and successfully. The process can feel discouraging when results are not immediately visible. But the farmer does not dig up the seed to check on it every morning. He trusts the soil. He trusts the One who gives the increase.
The invitation is simple and clear. Eagerly receive the Word. Consistently cultivate your time with God. Trust that what He begins, He will complete. And then go scatter seeds, knowing that the harvest is in far more capable hands than your own.
Sow the seed. Sleep well.

There is a story Jesus told that is deceptively simple on the surface but carries a weight that reaches into the deepest places of the human soul. It is the story of a farmer who scattered seed across different kinds of ground. Some seed fell on a hardened path. Some fell on rocky, shallow soil. Some fell among thorns. And some fell on good, fertile ground. The harvest — or the lack of it — was not determined by the quality of the seed. The seed was the same in every case. What made all the difference was the condition of the soil.
That story, recorded in Luke chapter 8, is not really about farming. It is about the human heart and how it receives the word of God. Jesus himself explained the meaning to his disciples, and what he revealed is both sobering and deeply hopeful. The same truth, spoken to different hearts, produces radically different results. The question worth sitting with is not simply whether you have heard the gospel. The question is how you have heard it — and what kind of ground your heart truly is.
The Hardened Heart
The first type of soil is the path — ground so compacted by constant traffic that nothing can penetrate it. Jesus explained in Luke 8:12 that this represents those who hear the word, but the enemy snatches it away before it can take root, so that they do not believe and are not saved.
This is the heart that has perhaps heard the gospel dozens, even hundreds of times, and yet nothing lands. There is no conviction, no discomfort, no honest reckoning with the state of the soul. The word rolls off like rain on pavement. It is not always a dramatic, defiant rejection of God. Sometimes it is simply indifference — a heart so worn smooth by the traffic of sin and self-sufficiency that grace cannot find an entry point.
The warning here is urgent. The hardest heart in the world is not necessarily the most outwardly rebellious one. It may be the heart that has simply grown accustomed to hearing truth and feeling nothing.
The Hollow Heart
The second soil is rocky ground, where there is not enough depth for roots to form. Jesus described in Luke 8:13 those who receive the word with joy and even make a kind of profession, but when testing or temptation arrives, they fall away just as quickly as they came.
This is perhaps the most unsettling soil because there is an appearance of life. There is enthusiasm, even excitement. The hymns are sung. The cards are signed. The declarations are made. But when difficulty hits — a job loss, a broken relationship, a season of suffering — the profession evaporates. The speed with which that heart embraced the word is the same speed with which it abandons it.
What is missing is root. And what produces root is genuine repentance — not an emotional response designed to escape consequences, but a true turning of the heart toward God. Jesus himself said in Luke 14:28 that anyone who intends to build must first sit down and count the cost. The hollow heart wants the benefits of the gospel without the cross. It wants peace without obedience and joy without sacrifice.
The Harried Heart
The third soil may be the most tragic of all, precisely because it looks the most respectable from a distance. The seed falls among thorns, and something actually grows — but it grows alongside competing weeds that slowly, quietly choke the life out of it.
Jesus identified three kinds of weeds in Luke 8:14: the cares of this life, the deceitfulness of riches, and the pleasures of this world. None of these things kills the seed on the day it is planted. They grow alongside it, season after season, until eventually they win.
This is a heart that is not hardened against the gospel and not shallow in its initial response. It is simply divided. The word of God competes with anxiety about the future, with the relentless pursuit of financial security, with the endless distractions of entertainment and comfort. The Apostle John wrote in 1 John 2:15-17 that loving the world and loving the Father cannot coexist — that the world and its desires are passing away, but the one who does the will of God remains forever.
It is worth noting that what causes this heart to fail is not persecution. It is preoccupation. It is not an enemy at the gate. It is simply a garden full of weeds.
The Honest Heart
Then there is the good soil. Luke 8:15 describes those who, having heard the word with a noble and good heart, keep it and bear fruit with patience. This is the only soil that produces a harvest — and the harvest is remarkable. Thirty, sixty, a hundredfold.
This heart is not perfect. It is honest. It has genuinely reckoned with sin, genuinely turned toward God, and genuinely submitted to the ongoing work of pruning and growth that Jesus described in John 15. He who abides in the vine bears fruit. Not through straining or performing, but through remaining — staying connected to the source of life.
The Mirror and the Question
This parable functions as a mirror. It is not meant to produce despair but honest examination. The Apostle Paul urged in 2 Corinthians 13:5 that believers examine themselves to see whether they are truly in the faith.
Three questions are worth carrying into that examination. Does the word of God have genuine root in your life, or have you simply accumulated Bible knowledge without transformation? Have the worries and pleasures of this world slowly crowded out what once felt like spiritual hunger? And is there real, observable fruit — love, growth, obedience, a life that is being conformed to Christ?
The good news is that no heart is beyond the reach of the one who made it. The seed is still being scattered. The invitation is still open. And the God who can soften hardened ground, deepen shallow soil, and clear out a field of thorns is the same God who promises in 1 John 1:9 that if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
He who has ears to hear, let him hear.

Sometimes there comes a moment where we need to talk about the harder…messier…part of being a parent. Of being a human really. This One Conversation would be one such time.

 Parents, we need to level with one another. Can we do that? Can we be honest? Just between us?

There is probably a version of our child who has lived in our imagination for a long time.

 That version loves the things we love. They play the sport we played. They appreciate the music we introduced them to. They definitely choose the friends we immediately like, and they discover gifts and talents that make perfect sense to us.

 (I know, I know….YUCK. I get it. I’m right there with you, but we have to keep going—because, let’s be honest, our imagination certainly does.)

 In this version, our kids follow a path that feels not only familiar—but incredibly exciting to us. They are organized, and driven. They take calculated risks, and steward their time, energy, talents, and treasure well. Don’t forget, they also grow into a deep and rich faith that is inspiriting and recognizable, they find a calling we can easily explain to our friends, and they become the kind of adult we always pictured raising.

 And then there is the actual person sitting across from us at the dinner table.

 They hate the sport we love. They are absolutely captivated by something we find painfully boring. They are quieter than we expected, louder than we expected, more artistic, less analytical, highly sensitive, extremely stubborn, too adventurous, too cautious, too unconventional, or honestly, just so much more complicated than the child we imagined.

 One of the strange griefs of parenting is realizing that loving the child God gave us, sometimes requires letting go of the child we imagined.

 BUT.

 One of the great joys of parenting is discovering that this human God foreknew and created, is far more interesting than the child we imagined ever could be.

 This is part of what it means to be your kid’s #1 Fan.

 As parents, we must reckon with the possibility that our idealized versions of our children are quite possibly both an underestimation of them, and of God.

 Consider what God taught us through the prophet Samuel when he said, “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” —1 Samuel 16:7

 Often when we read the account of David in 1 Samuel, we focus on the fact that, compared to his seven brothers, David did not measure up in appearance or stature.

 As modern-day parents, when sensing a call on our child’s life, we would most likely—and surely from a place of love—step in and try to manufacture a version of a king we think is needed.

 But instead, God takes David just as he is, right where he is, and moves through the hidden attributes of David that God alone sees—the ones David, himself, later speaks to in Psalm 139: 13-16.

 "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

 David was able to be a man after God’s own heart because David was intimately acquainted with God’s love and delight for him.

 It was from this same knowledge that a pint-sized shepherd found the bravery to face down a lion, a bear, and a giant—and, later, the tenderness to soothe a jealous, tormented king.

 Confidence and compassion, it turns out, come from the same source: knowing you are truly seen, fully loved, and entirely delighted in.

 Which brings us back to our teens.

 As much as we want them to know we love them, they also need the security of knowing we delight in them.

 This September, in the spirit of being our teen's #1 fan, we took that idea to the field. Our most recent Axis Interviews conversation with Brian Smith and Ed Uszynski, authors of Away Game: A Christian Parent's Guide to Navigating Youth Sports, gets right into the tension of how the sidelines of our kid's sporting games have a funny way of revealing what we hope for them, what we expect from them, and how easily those two things get tangled up with our own stuff.

 But this conversation is about more than sports. It's about ministry, discipleship, and learning to delight in our kids rather than constantly coaching them forward in every situation. You can listen, or watch, the full episode below.

So here's the invitation this week as we continue to unpack our role as a #1 Fan:
May we loosen our grip on the version we think our teens ought to be, so we can become better acquainted with the person God already knows them to be.

 Maybe we ask better questions.

 Maybe we listen longer.

 Maybe we become less interested in manufacturing kings, and more interested in discovering what God has already tucked inside shepherds.

 Cheering you on,
The Axis Team

CONVERSATION STARTERS
 For you to ask yourself:
- When I picture my kid thriving as an adult, how much of that picture is about them—and how much of it is about me?

 For you to ask your teen:
- What’s something you love that you wish I’d ask you about more often?

Have you ever been talking to someone and realized they were not listening to a word you were saying? They were physically present. They heard your voice. They may have even nodded at the right moments. The words reached their ears, but they never really registered.

The same thing can happen with God’s Word.

We can sit in church every week, bring our Bible, listen to sermons, take notes, know the right answers, and still walk away unchanged. Hearing the Word of God and being transformed by the Word of God are not automatically the same thing.

James gives us a warning that every follower of Jesus needs to hear:

“But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.”
James 1:22

The danger is not simply that we might ignore the Bible. The greater danger is that we might hear it so often that we convince ourselves hearing it is enough. Spiritual growth happens when we receive God’s Word humbly, allow it to examine us honestly, and respond to it obediently.

Receive the Word With Humility

James 1:19–21 tells us to be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger. He then tells us to “receive with meekness the implanted word.” That word “meekness” points toward humility. We come to God’s Word recognizing that God is God and we are not. We do not open the Bible to decide whether we agree with God. We open it because we want God to reveal what is true. That sounds simple until Scripture confronts something we do not want to change.

-God’s Word tells us to forgive, but we are still hurt.
-God’s Word tells us to tell the truth, but honesty may cost us something.
-God’s Word tells us to flee sexual immorality, but we enjoy what we are watching, following, or doing.
-God’s Word tells us to love our enemies, but talking about them feels better.
-God’s Word tells us to honor our parents, but we believe they do not understand.

One of the most revealing sentences we can complete is this:
"I know the Bible says __________, but __________.”

Pay attention to what comes after the word “but.” That may reveal an area where you are resisting God. Humility stops trying to correct the Bible and allows the Bible to correct us.
James also says to “put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness.” Think about someone trying to plant a garden in ground covered with garbage, rocks, and weeds. Throwing seed on top of everything without clearing the ground would make little sense. Some things have to be removed so the seed can take root. The same is true spiritually. Sometimes we ask God to speak while holding tightly to something He has already told us to surrender.

A humble heart approaches Scripture differently. A humble heart says, “God, You are right even when Your Word confronts me. Show me where I am wrong. Show me what needs to change. I want Your truth more than I want my way.”

Let the Word Examine You

James then gives us a picture we all understand.
A mirror.

James 1:23–24 describes someone who looks carefully at himself in a mirror, walks away, and immediately forgets what he saw. Imagine waking up, looking into the mirror, and discovering that your hair is going in six different directions, something is stuck in your teeth, and your face is a complete mess. You stare at yourself and think, “Wow. This is terrible.” Then you walk away without fixing anything. What was the point of looking in the mirror? A mirror shows us what is actually there. God’s Word does the same thing. Scripture does not merely reveal what everyone around us needs to change. Scripture reveals what needs to change in us. We often hear a sermon about gossip and immediately think about the person who really needed to be there that day. We hear a message about pride and think about someone else. We read about forgiveness and start listing all the reasons another person does not deserve ours.We are looking into the mirror while trying to point it at everyone else.

The better question is not, “Who else needs to hear this?”
The better question is, “God, what are You showing me about me?”

God’s Word may reveal pride, bitterness, dishonesty, lust, jealousy, selfishness, or unforgiveness. Scripture may reveal that our identity has become wrapped up in someone’s opinion of us. It may expose that sports, relationships, success, popularity, money, or our phones have slowly become more important to us than Jesus. The purpose of the mirror is not simply to make us feel bad about what we see. The purpose is to reveal what needs to change. Conviction is not the same thing as transformation. You can recognize that your attitude is wrong and keep the same attitude. You can admit that a relationship is pulling you away from Jesus and stay in it. You can know that you need to apologize and never have the conversation. You can feel convicted during a sermon on Sunday and return to the exact same behavior on Monday. God does not reveal truth merely so we will feel guilty. He reveals truth so that, through His grace, we can respond.

Respond to the Word With Obedience

James 1:25 describes someone who looks into God’s Word, perseveres in it, remembers it, and acts upon it. That is completely different from casually hearing a sermon and moving on. Obedience is where what we hear becomes how we live. James calls God’s Word “the law of liberty.” That phrase can sound strange because we often think freedom means having no rules. God shows us something completely different. A fish is free when it remains in the water. Removing the fish from the water does not increase its freedom. It destroys the fish. A train is free when it remains on the tracks. Leaving the tracks does not lead to a better adventure. It leads to a wreck. God created us, knows us, and knows what leads to life. His commands are not designed to keep us from enjoying life. His commands protect us from the things that eventually enslave and destroy us. The world tells us freedom means doing whatever we feel like doing. Jesus offers something better. Jesus gives us freedom from being controlled by sin. Obedience does not mean earning God’s love. The gospel tells us we could never earn it. Jesus lived the sinless life we could not live. He died the death our sin deserved. He took our place on the cross and rose from the grave. Salvation is received by grace through faith in Jesus, not earned through religious behavior. The grace that saves us also begins changing us.

We do not obey so Jesus will save us.
We obey because we trust the One who saved us.

That kind of obedience becomes specific.
“I need to do better” is not specific.
“I need to be nicer” is not a plan.

Real obedience may sound like:
“I need to apologize tonight.”
“I need to delete that account.”
“I need to leave that group chat.”
“I need to forgive that person.”
“I need to tell the truth about what happened.”
“I need to put down my phone and spend time in God’s Word.”
“I need to talk with someone I trust about the sin I have been hiding.”
“I need to tell that person about Jesus.”

Specific conviction should lead to specific obedience. The longer we delay responding to what God has shown us, the easier it becomes to ignore His conviction.
Delayed obedience often becomes disobedience.

What Will You Do With What You Heard?

Another sermon will not automatically make you spiritually mature. Another Bible study will not automatically make you more like Jesus. Filling another notebook with sermon notes will not automatically transform your heart. God has given us His Word to be received, believed, and lived. James challenges us to receive the Word with humility, examine ourselves through the Word, and respond to the Word with obedience.

Take a moment and ask yourself a few questions.

-What has God been showing me through His Word?
-Where have I been making excuses instead of surrendering?
-What needs to change?
-What specific step of obedience do I need to take?
-When will I take it?

Your first step may be something entirely different. You may realize that you have spent your life around Christianity without ever surrendering your life to Christ. Christianity is not about becoming a slightly better version of yourself. The gospel begins with admitting that sin has separated us from a holy God and that we cannot save ourselves. Jesus did what we could never do. He lived without sin, went to the cross in our place, paid the penalty for our sin, and rose victoriously from the grave. Forgiveness and new life are offered to anyone who turns from sin and trusts in Jesus as Savior and Lord.

So what will you will do with what you have heard?

Worry Deforms, Grace Transforms...
Don't Worry: Why Jesus Gives You a Reason the World Never Could
In 1988, a deceptively simple song swept across the country and lodged itself into the cultural consciousness. No heavy beat, no complex arrangement — just a whistled melody and a cheerful command: don't worry, be happy. Grandparents hummed it at kitchen tables. Children sang it on playgrounds. It even won a Grammy. The sentiment was contagious, and the appeal was obvious. Who would not want to simply set their burdens down and choose happiness?
The problem is that the world's version of "don't worry" comes with no foundation beneath it. It is an instruction without an explanation, a command without a cause. You are told to stop worrying, but the bills are still on the counter. The phone call you are dreading has not come yet, but it still might. The diagnosis is still pending. The relationship is still broken. The world says don't worry, but it leaves you standing in the exact same place, with the exact same fears, and absolutely no reason to feel differently.
Jesus, however, enters the room and says something entirely different.
A Command, Not a Suggestion
In Luke chapter 12, Jesus tells his followers not to be anxious about their lives — not about what they will eat, not about what they will wear, not about the material concerns that so easily consume human attention. This is not a gentle suggestion or a hopeful wish. It is a command. And because it is a command, treating it as optional carries real spiritual weight. When Jesus instructs us not to worry and we worry anyway, we are choosing our anxiety over his authority.
That is a sobering thought. Most people do not think of worry as a spiritual problem. It feels involuntary, almost natural. And in one sense, it is deeply human — worry touches every person regardless of age, background, or circumstance. But Jesus names it, addresses it directly, and calls his people away from it. Not because life has no hard edges, but because the one who commands us to trust is the King of the universe.
What Worry Actually Does to You
The Greek word translated as "anxious" in this passage carries the image of being torn apart — pulled in multiple directions at once, unable to settle, unable to focus. There is an old story about lion tamers that illustrates this perfectly. When a tamer steps into a cage carrying a small wooden stool, the lion's attention is immediately fragmented. It cannot fix its gaze on any single leg of the stool, and that divided focus produces a kind of paralysis. The lion, one of the most powerful animals on earth, is momentarily frozen — not by force, but by distraction.
Worry does the same thing to the human soul. The bill coming due, the medical appointment on the calendar, the silence from someone you love, the uncertainty about the future — each one becomes a leg of that stool, and together they freeze you. You cannot sleep. You cannot decide. You cannot trust. You are not overcoming any of those problems. You are simply stuck.
Worry is also deeply deceptive. It whispers that your worth is tied to what you have, how you look, what brand you wear, and whether your circumstances measure up to some invisible standard. It tells you that if you do not have the right things or the right appearance, you are not enough. That is a lie, and it is one the enemy tells with remarkable consistency.
Perhaps most dangerously, worry is deformative. It reshapes you — pulling you away from the image of Christ and toward the anxious patterns of a world that has no Father to trust. Jesus notes this explicitly in Luke 12, pointing out that the nations — those without a relationship with God — are the ones who chase after these things with frantic energy. His people are called to something different.
The Two Who Saw What the Ten Could Not
There is an old account from the wilderness wanderings of Israel that speaks directly to this. Moses sent twelve spies into the promised land. Ten came back overwhelmed. They had seen giants, fortified cities, and obstacles that seemed insurmountable. Their report was soaked in fear. But two of the spies — Joshua and Caleb — saw the same land and came back with an entirely different conclusion. God had promised this land. God would provide the means to take it. The giants were real, but the Father was greater.
The ten saw the giants and forgot about the Father. The two saw the Father and refused to be paralyzed by the giants.
Worry always does what those ten spies did. It magnifies the obstacle and minimizes the one who holds all things together. It fixates on the problem and loses sight of the promise.
Seek First, and Then Watch What Happens
Jesus does not leave his followers without direction. His answer to anxiety is not simply "try harder to stop worrying." It is a reorientation of priority. Seek first the kingdom of God, he says. Make that the singular focus. Just as an oxygen mask on an airplane must go on your own face before you can help anyone else, the kingdom of God must come first before everything else finds its proper place.
And here is the stunning promise attached to that command: it is the Father's good pleasure to give his children what they need. God is not reluctant. He is not waiting to be convinced. He does not learn about your situation when you pray and respond with surprise. Nothing has ever occurred to God for the first time. He already knows. He has always known. And he delights in providing for those who seek him.
Romans 8:32 captures this with breathtaking clarity — the God who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will surely give us everything else we need along with him.
One Focus Changes Everything
A lion with a singular focus is dangerous. A believer with a singular focus is unstoppable. When the eyes of your heart are fixed on the kingdom of God rather than scattered across every fear and uncertainty, something begins to shift. Worry loses its grip. Not because the circumstances have changed, but because the one you are trusting is greater than any circumstance.
The next time you feel that familiar tightening — the anxious pull of a problem you cannot solve — let it become a prompt rather than a prison. Name what you are worried about. Bring it honestly before the Father who already knows. And then choose, deliberately and by faith, to seek his kingdom first.
He has promised to take care of the rest.

What Owns Your Heart?

Life has a way of convincing us that the next thing will finally make us happy. The next purchase, relationship, achievement, experience, or opportunity always seems to carry the promise of satisfaction. We tell ourselves that life will feel complete once we have a little more.

Two songs by Shaboozey offer an interesting picture of this struggle. “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” captures the desire to escape the weight of life by spending money, having another drink, enjoying the moment, and forgetting about our problems for a while. The message beneath the music feels familiar: life is heavy, so find something that makes tonight feel good.

“Good News” carries a very different feeling. The song reflects the heaviness of someone who is tired of bad news, struggling internally, and longing for something genuinely good. These songs may not have been written to tell one connected spiritual story, but placing their themes beside each other reveals something important. One represents the chase for something that will satisfy us, while the other expresses the emptiness that remains when temporary relief cannot heal what is happening inside.

Jesus warned about this struggle long before either song was written. In Luke 12:13–21, He tells the story of a man who filled his life with everything the world said should satisfy him, only to discover that he had neglected the one thing that mattered most. His barns were full, but his soul was empty.

More Will Not Satisfy You

The conversation begins when a man in the crowd says to Jesus, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” The Son of God is standing in front of him, and the subject occupying his mind is money. The man believes he has an inheritance problem, but Jesus recognizes that he has a heart problem.

Jesus responds with a warning: “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15 ESV).

Covetousness is an excessive desire for possessions and a constant craving for more. More is one of the greatest lies our culture sells us. We are encouraged to pursue more money, followers, attention, success, recognition, experiences, clothes, playing time, and relationships. Every new pursuit makes the same promise: once you get me, you will finally be satisfied.

Experience teaches us that the promise never lasts. Think about something you desperately wanted a few years ago. It may have been a phone, a game, a pair of shoes, or something expensive. Getting it probably felt exciting for a while. Eventually, something else became the thing you wanted. More never reaches a finish line because it always points toward the next thing.

Most of us can complete this sentence without much thought: “If I just had __________, I think I would be happier.” The blank might contain a relationship, a starting position, better grades, a different body, someone’s approval, more friends, or more money. Our answer often reveals what we are asking to give us identity, security, or satisfaction.

Jesus is not teaching that everything we enjoy is bad. He is teaching us not to ask temporary things to accomplish what they were never created to do. Money, popularity, sports, relationships, and success can be gifts, but each one makes a terrible Savior. They can become part of our lives without becoming the source of our lives.

The world keeps telling us to find another experience, buy something else, go somewhere new, gain someone’s attention, or do whatever makes tonight feel good. Jesus gives us the truth that our hearts need to hear: more will not satisfy us.

Bigger Barns Will Not Save You

Jesus illustrates His warning by telling a story about a wealthy man whose land produced an abundant crop. The man does not appear to have gained his wealth dishonestly. He is not condemned for being successful or having possessions. His crops simply produce more than his current barns can hold.

The man decides to tear down his barns, build larger ones, and store all his grain and goods. He then tells himself, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry” (Luke 12:19 ESV).

His words expose the condition of his heart. He repeatedly talks about what he will do with his crops, barns, grain, goods, and soul. God is completely missing from his plans. He never thanks God for the harvest, asks why God has entrusted it to him, considers who he could bless, or wonders how his resources could serve God’s kingdom. Everything is mine, and that is the moment when a gift begins to become a god.

Having things is not the problem. The problem begins when those things have us. Playing sports, pursuing success, earning money, enjoying a phone, dating someone, and setting goals are not automatically sinful. Any good thing can become dangerous when it takes first place in our hearts.

The rich man believes he has accumulated enough to satisfy his soul. His life resembles a barn filled with money, popularity, relationships, achievements, appearance, and possessions. The barn may be full, but none of those things can save him. Money can purchase many things, but it cannot forgive sin. Popularity can make people notice us, but it cannot establish our true identity. Sports can provide incredible experiences, but a championship cannot give life eternal meaning. Relationships can bring joy, but another person cannot become our Savior. Success can open doors, but it cannot make us right with God. These things may be wonderful gifts, but they are terrible gods.

The man expects to enjoy his possessions for many years. God tells him, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you” (Luke 12:20 ESV). The contrast is sobering. The man plans for many years, while God tells him that his life will end that night. He has prepared financially, materially, and comfortably for the future, but he has not prepared for eternity.

This story invites us to ask the one-hundred-year question. Consider what is consuming your attention right now, what you are desperate to gain, or what you are afraid to lose. Will it matter one hundred years from now? A social media post, an argument, a starting position, a new pair of shoes, an invitation, or the desire for everyone to know your name will eventually fade. Your soul will still matter. Your relationship with Jesus, your response to the gospel, and eternity will matter.

Bigger barns cannot save us because security cannot be found in anything we will eventually leave behind.

Jesus Is the Better Treasure

Jesus concludes His story by saying, “So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God” (Luke 12:21 ESV). His message is not that we should own nothing. His warning is that we should not spend our lives collecting things we cannot keep while ignoring the God we cannot afford to lose.

The answer to greed is not simply wanting fewer things. The answer is wanting something better. Our hearts need a greater treasure, which is why the gospel is such good news.

The rich fool spends his life saying, “Mine.” Jesus says, “I give.” The rich fool gathers everything for himself, while Jesus gives Himself for us. The rich fool builds bigger barns to protect his possessions, while Jesus goes to the cross to rescue sinners. The rich fool trusts his possessions to save him, but only Jesus can save us.

Jesus lived the perfect life we could never live. He died the death our sin deserved, was buried, and rose from the grave. He offers forgiveness, life, hope, purpose, and reconciliation with God to everyone who repents and believes. This message is not good advice about how to improve ourselves. It is good news about what Jesus has done to rescue us.

Open hands provide a helpful picture of surrender. We naturally grip our lives, futures, relationships, money, reputation, plans, and possessions as if they belong entirely to us. Surrender opens our hands and says, “Jesus, everything I have belongs to You.” Genuine surrender includes our phones, popularity, friendships, sports, appearance, careers, dreams, and plans. Most importantly, it includes our lives.

“A Bar Song” illustrates the chase for something else that might satisfy us. The rich fool illustrates the warning that accumulating enough will never make us secure. “Good News” expresses the longing for something genuinely better. Jesus provides the answer to that longing. Something better exists, and His name is Jesus.

More will not satisfy you. Bigger barns will not save you. Jesus is the better treasure.

Take an honest look at what is stored in the barn of your heart. What is most likely to compete with Jesus for first place? It may be sports, popularity, money, relationships, approval, appearance, success, comfort, your phone, or your future. Naming it allows you to surrender it and pray, “Jesus, teach my heart to treasure You most.”

A person can have a full schedule, closet, social life, trophy case, and bank account while still having an empty soul. Do not spend your life building bigger barns. Build your life around the only treasure you can never lose.

Lord, Teach Us to Pray
There is something deeply human about watching someone else do something with a kind of ease and intimacy that makes you stop and say, "Can you show me how to do that?" Children do it instinctively. They watch a parent fix a bicycle or repair a broken shelf, and before long the questions start pouring out. What is that tool for? Why did you turn it that way? Where does this piece go? And then, the most important question of all: can you teach me how to do that?
That is precisely the question the disciples brought to Jesus. They had watched Him pray on multiple occasions. They had seen other religious teachers pray, men who recited carefully composed prayers with formal precision. But Jesus was different. His prayer felt intimate. It felt relational. It felt alive. So one of the disciples waited until Jesus had finished, and then asked the question that changed everything: Lord, teach us to pray.
What follows in Luke chapter 11 is one of the most instructive passages in all of Scripture on the subject of prayer. Jesus does not simply give a prayer to be recited. He gives a pattern to be followed, an illustration to be understood, and a promise to be believed.
A Pattern Worth Following
The model Jesus offers can be remembered simply through the word PRAY.
The P stands for Praise. Before anything else, we come before God acknowledging who He is. We hallow His name. We recognize His character, His greatness, His faithfulness. Praise has been described as the front door of prayer, and for good reason. When we begin by lifting up the name of God, we orient our hearts rightly before we ever make a single request.
The R stands for Repent. When Jesus taught His disciples to pray for the kingdom to come and for God's will to be done, He was inviting them into a posture of surrender. Repentance in prayer is not only confessing specific sins, though it certainly includes that. It is also the act of yielding our own agendas and asking God to align our hearts with His purposes. It is saying, not my kingdom, but Yours. Not my will, but Yours.
The A stands for Ask. Once our hearts are aligned with God's priorities, we bring our needs. Jesus teaches us to ask for provision, for the daily bread that covers everything we need for that day, whether it is physical sustenance, wisdom, patience, or strength. We ask for pardon, inviting God to search our hearts and forgive us as we extend forgiveness to others. And we ask for protection, because we have a real enemy who is actively working against our lives, our marriages, our families, and our faith. Suiting up in the armor described in Ephesians chapter 6 is not optional. It is essential.
The Y stands for Yield. Just as Jesus closed the model prayer in Matthew chapter 6 with the declaration that the kingdom, the power, and the glory belong to God, we end our prayer by surrendering ourselves entirely. The Apostle Paul described this in Romans chapter 12 as presenting our bodies as living sacrifices. It is the daily act of dying to ourselves and offering every thought, every action, every interaction to the Lord.
The beauty of this pattern is that it creates balance. Most of us are quite skilled at the asking portion of prayer. We know how to present our needs. But praise, repentance, and yielding are often the parts we rush past or skip entirely. A balanced prayer life touches all four.
Persistence That Changes Us
Jesus follows the pattern with a parable. A man's friend arrives at midnight, and he has nothing to feed him. So he goes to a neighbor's house and knocks. The neighbor, already in bed with his family, tells him to go away. The door is shut. The answer is no. But the man keeps knocking, and eventually the neighbor gets up and gives him what he needs, not out of friendship, but because of the man's shameless persistence.
We live in a world built around instant gratification. Streaming services deliver entertainment on demand. Online shopping promises arrival within hours. Food appears at the door in thirty minutes. It is not difficult to see how this culture of immediacy seeps into our prayer lives. We treat prayer like a vending machine. We insert a request, expect immediate delivery, and when the answer does not come on our timeline, we assume God does not care, or we simply give up.
But Jesus is making a striking point. If even a reluctant, half-asleep neighbor will eventually respond to persistent knocking, how much more will a loving, attentive, fully awake Heavenly Father respond to His children? The key insight is this: persistence in prayer does not change God. It changes us. Every time we return to the door, we are deepening our dependence, shaping our desires, and building the kind of faith that trusts God's timing even when we cannot see it.
A Promise Too Good to Overlook
Jesus closes this passage with three escalating verbs: ask, seek, and knock. In the original Greek, each of these is a continuous action. Ask and keep on asking. Seek and keep on seeking. Knock and keep on knocking.
Asking is presenting a petition when we know God's will in a matter. Seeking is pressing deeper when we are uncertain of His will, pursuing His face until we find it. Knocking is staying at the door when we know His will but have not yet seen the answer come.
And then Jesus delivers the promise that makes all of it worth it. If imperfect, flawed, human fathers know how to give good gifts to their children, how much more will the Heavenly Father give to those who ask Him?
He will not give a stone when you ask for bread. He will not give a serpent when you ask for fish. He will not give a scorpion when you ask for an egg. He is good. He is generous. He is listening.
So whatever you are carrying today, whatever situation feels impossible, whatever door seems permanently closed, do not stop praying. Keep asking. Keep seeking. Keep knocking. Your Father is not asleep, and He is not annoyed. He is waiting to respond with more than you could ask or imagine.

Blessing,
Bro Marc

Parents, what do you want most for your children? Most parents would probably give similar answers. We want our children to be happy, healthy, successful, and surrounded by good friends. We want them to make wise choices, receive a good education, find meaningful work, and enjoy opportunities we never had. We want them to build strong families and experience lives filled with joy. Those desires are good, but a more difficult question deserves our attention.

What if our children receive every one of those things and miss Jesus? 

What if they make the team, earn the scholarship, graduate with honors, build successful careers, and purchase their dream homes, yet never genuinely know Christ? Would we still call that success?
The Bible gives us a different picture of success. Third John 4 says, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” There truly is no greater joy than knowing our children are walking with Jesus. Church attendance alone is not the goal. Knowing the correct Bible answers is not enough. Growing up in a Christian home does not guarantee a personal relationship with Christ. Our deepest desire should be for our children to know Jesus, trust Jesus, love Jesus, and follow Jesus for themselves.
One day, they will walk out of our homes. Their faith must become more than something their parents believe. It must become their own.

A Limited Number of Weeks
The day a child is born begins a countdown that most parents rarely consider. From birth until high school graduation, parents have approximately 936 weeks with their children. That number sounds enormous when they are babies, but parents of older children know how quickly those weeks disappear.
By the time a child enters sixth grade, roughly 572 of those weeks are already gone. Approximately 364 weeks remain before graduation. Middle school accounts for only about 156 weeks. Parents of sixth graders will look up sooner than they expect and see their children walking into high school. The high school years will move even faster.
Our time is limited, which means we must decide what scoreboard we are using. Families often celebrate trophies, scholarships, acceptance letters, promotions, and accomplishments. Those moments should be celebrated. Heaven, however, uses a different scoreboard. Jesus said heaven rejoices when one sinner repents.
I think about my own children, Cooper and Bristol. There are a thousand things I want for them. I want them to succeed, have meaningful opportunities, build strong friendships, and enjoy their lives. Something infinitely more important stands above all those desires. I want my children to know Jesus. Everything else I have dreamed for them means very little if they gain it all and miss Him. This truth is not meant to produce guilt. Every parent already knows they are imperfect, and their children know it too. Perfect parenting is not the goal. Faithful discipleship is the goal.

Children do not need perfect parents. They need imperfect parents who consistently point them toward a perfect Savior.

Know God
Deuteronomy 6 gives families a simple and powerful pattern for building a faith that lasts. Israel was standing on the edge of the Promised Land after spending forty years in the wilderness. An entire generation had died because of unbelief, and Moses was giving final instructions to the next generation.
Moses did not begin with military strategy, financial advice, or political instruction. He began with God because Israel’s greatest danger was not the people surrounding them. Their greatest danger was forgetting God. That danger remains today. We can build successful lives and forget God. We can fill our homes with activities and forget God. We can even create religious homes and still forget God.
Deuteronomy 6:4 begins with the word “hear.” The Hebrew word is shema, which means more than allowing sound to enter our ears. It means listening with the intention of responding. God was not merely giving Israel information to remember. He was giving them truth upon which they were to build their lives. Israel was entering a culture filled with false gods. Every direction offered another object of worship. Moses reminded them that there is only one true God. He has no rival, equal, or competitor. Children need to know more than what Christians do. They need to know who God is. Christianity cannot be reduced to a list of behaviors and restrictions. Obedience matters, but Christianity does not begin with rules. It begins with God. Our children need to understand who God is, what He has done, and why He alone is worthy of their worship. Whatever captures their worship will eventually control their lives. Everyone worships something. Popularity, sports, relationships, approval, success, money, appearance, and comfort constantly compete for our hearts. The real question is not whether we worship. The question is what has our hearts.
A faith that lasts begins with knowing God.

Love God
Knowing God should lead us to love Him. Deuteronomy 6:5 commands us to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, and might. God wants more than church attendance, religious activity, and outwardly good behavior. He wants our hearts. He refuses to become one item among many competing priorities because He deserves our complete devotion.
Jesus identified this command as the greatest and first commandment in Matthew 22:37 and 38. Every area of obedience flows from our love for God. John 14:15 teaches that those who love Jesus will keep His commandments. The order matters. Christianity does not teach us to behave properly so God will love us. The gospel teaches that God has loved us, and our obedience is a response to that love. Deuteronomy 6 places another important truth before parents. God tells His people to place His words upon their own hearts before He tells them to teach those words to their children. Family discipleship begins within the heart of a parent before it reaches the atmosphere of a home.
Our children do not need us to have every answer. They need to see that we need Jesus too. They need to see us pray, read Scripture, worship, forgive, and repent. Some of the most powerful words a parent can say are, “I was wrong. I should not have spoken to you that way. Will you forgive me?” I wish I could say my children have only seen me follow Jesus well. They have seen me lose my patience and heard me use the wrong tone. Some moments have required me to walk back into their rooms, admit that I was wrong, and ask for forgiveness. Those failures can still become discipleship moments. Honest repentance shows our children that we need the same grace we are teaching them about. Parents cannot pass on what they are not personally pursuing. Our children may hear what we say, but they will also watch what we love. Our lives will communicate what truly matters to us long before our words ever do.

Talk God
Deuteronomy 6:7 tells parents to teach God’s truth diligently to their children. The original language creates the picture of sharpening a blade. A blade does not become sharp after passing across a sharpener once. The process requires repeated movement over time. Discipleship works the same way. It is intentional repetition through thousands of ordinary moments. Parents may become discouraged when they feel they have already explained the same truth repeatedly. Faithful discipleship continues teaching, explaining, reminding, and modeling. Most discipleship does not happen through one enormous spiritual experience. It happens through countless small moments of faithfulness. God places the primary responsibility for discipling children upon parents. The church has an incredibly important role. Pastors, student ministries, children’s ministries, and Sunday school teachers should teach, equip, encourage, and reinforce biblical truth. The church, however, was never intended to replace the spiritual influence of parents. A pastor may have a child or teenager for a few hours each week. Parents receive hundreds of ordinary moments, and Deuteronomy 6 reveals that those moments are where discipleship happens. God tells parents to talk about His truth while sitting at home, traveling, lying down, and rising in the morning. Those four rhythms describe the whole of everyday life. Conversations at the dinner table, on the couch, or in the kitchen can become opportunities to talk about God. Every conversation does not need to become a sermon. Parents can simply ask how they can pray, what was difficult about the day, what their children are thankful for, or what God is teaching them. Traveling together provides another natural opportunity. Modern families spend a tremendous amount of time driving to school, practices, stores, and activities. Some of the deepest conversations I have experienced with my children started while we were driving down the road. A random question came from the passenger seat, usually when I felt completely unprepared to answer it. Teenagers may resist sitting across from a parent for a serious conversation. A drive with everyone looking through the windshield can suddenly make talking feel easier. Those moments should not be wasted. Bedtime also brings important questions. Children may ask why God allowed something painful, how they can know they are saved, why someone died, or why God has not answered a prayer. Parents may feel tired, but the conversation they are tempted to rush could become the one their child remembers forever. Mornings carry spiritual opportunities as well. Children often hear commands to hurry, find their shoes, and get into the car. Imagine the impact of also hearing, “I love you. I am praying for you. Remember who you belong to.” Family discipleship is not another event to squeeze into an already crowded calendar. It is learning to bring Jesus into the calendar we already have. Our homes do not need to become seminaries. They need conversations, prayer, Scripture, and an atmosphere where talking about Jesus feels normal.

Show God
Deuteronomy 6:8 and 9 describes God’s truth being placed on hands, before eyes, upon doorposts, and at gates. The picture is a life completely surrounded and shaped by the Word of God. Our actions, thoughts, homes, and public lives should reveal that God’s truth matters. Scripture displayed on a wall can be a meaningful reminder, but reminders must never replace reality. A family can display Bible verses throughout the house while refusing to obey them. Someone can wear a cross without following the One who died upon it. A person can own several Bibles without opening any of them. Showing God means allowing our lives to make visible what we claim to believe. Someone living in our homes for a week would quickly discover what matters most to us. Our schedules, conversations, spending, emotional reactions, and priorities would reveal whether sports, grades, comfort, success, or Jesus occupies the center. The question is not whether our homes are perfect. The real question is whether our homes have a clear direction. Does grace appear when someone fails? Does repentance follow sin? Does prayer become the response to fear? Does gratitude accompany success? Does forgiveness overcome conflict? Does God’s Word guide us when we do not know what to do? A godly home is not a place where nobody fails. It is a place where everyone knows where to run when failure comes. His name is Jesus. 

Our Hope Is a Perfect Savior
Deuteronomy 6 gives us four simple truths. We are called to know God, love God, talk about God, and show others what following God looks like. Honesty requires us to admit that none of us has done these things perfectly. We have not loved God with our entire hearts. Distractions have captured our attention, and other things have competed for our affection. Parents, students, and pastors have all failed. A message that simply tells us to go home and try harder is not good news. It is another burden placed upon people who are already tired. The good news is Jesus. Jesus did not merely quote Deuteronomy 6. He fulfilled it. He loved the Father perfectly in every moment, decision, and temptation. Jesus succeeded where Israel failed and where we have failed. The only One who loved God perfectly went to the cross for people who did not. Jesus did not die because He failed. He died because we did. Jesus took our sin, rebellion, guilt, and divided hearts upon Himself. He died in our place, was buried, and rose again on the third day. Our hope is not a perfect family. Our hope is a perfect Savior. God does not merely command us to love Him more. He promises to give us new hearts. Jesus does more than improve our lives. He makes us new, and real family discipleship begins with Him.

One day, our children will leave our homes. Their bedrooms will become empty. Sports equipment will disappear. Trophies will collect dust, and school pictures will sit inside boxes. Our children will begin building lives of their own. I hope they remember the vacations, laughter, ball games, and Christmas mornings. My greatest prayer is that they remember Jesus. I pray they can say, “My parents were not perfect, but they knew God. They loved God. They talked about God. They showed me what following God looked like.” That is success. Parents who feel they have failed may believe they should have started years ago. Some have teenagers, while others have children who are already grown. Yesterday cannot be changed, but today can be surrendered. A new beginning can start with a simple prayer: “Jesus, start with me. Change my heart, change my priorities, and change the culture of my home.” Faithful discipleship does not require beginning with a lengthy family Bible study every night. Start by praying together, reading one passage, asking one question, or having one meaningful conversation. Take one faithful step, followed by another, and trust Jesus to use ordinary faithfulness to shape the next generation.

It Really Is Amazing Grace
There is a question worth sitting with before you read another word: When was the last time the grace of God truly stopped you in your tracks? Not as a theological concept, not as a familiar hymn lyric, but as a living, breathing reality that left you undone?
If you have to think about it for a while, you are not alone. And that might be exactly the problem.
Two People, One Savior, Two Very Different Responses
Luke chapter 7 tells a story that cuts right to the heart of how we relate to God's grace. A Pharisee named Simon invites Jesus to dinner. He is respectable, religious, and by every outward measure, a man who has his life together. But into that carefully arranged dinner walks a woman with a reputation. The text simply calls her a sinner. She carries an alabaster flask of costly perfume, and she does something that stops the room cold. She weeps at the feet of Jesus, washes them with her tears, dries them with her hair, and anoints them with the perfume.
Simon watches all of this and thinks to himself that if Jesus were truly a prophet, He would know what kind of woman was touching Him. She does not belong here. She is a sinner.
And there it is. Two people in the same room with Jesus. One has invited Him in but keeps Him at arm's length. The other has crashed the party and cannot get close enough.
The question the story forces us to ask is not which one sinned. Both of them had. The real question is which one knew it.
True Worship Flows From a Heart Amazed by Mercy
The woman's extravagant display was not a performance. It was not a payment. It was evidence. Her love was the overflow of a heart that had already been touched by forgiveness. Jesus even makes this clear when He speaks to Simon, noting that her sins, which were many, have been forgiven, and that is precisely why she loves so deeply. To whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.
This is the engine of genuine worship. When we grasp the depth of our own sin and the magnitude of what it cost God to forgive it, worship becomes less of a scheduled activity and more of an unavoidable response. Romans 5:8 reminds us that God demonstrated His love toward us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Ephesians 2:12-13 describes what we were before Christ as people without hope, without God, far off. And then comes the turn: "But now in Christ Jesus, you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ."
That nearness should produce something in us. It should produce the kind of worship that does not care what it looks like, the kind that brings the most costly thing we have and lays it at His feet.
The danger for those of us who have been in the faith for a long time is that we quietly get over grace. We know the vocabulary. We know the songs. We know how a service is supposed to feel. And somewhere along the way, familiarity quietly replaces wonder. We sing the words without feeling the weight of them. We go through the motions of devotion without the devotion itself.
Romans 12:1 calls us to present our bodies as living sacrifices, and Paul frames it as a reasonable response to mercy. It is logical, he says, to give everything when you understand what you have been given.
When Religion Becomes a Hiding Place
Simon's story is a warning. Luke 7 makes it clear that religious activity can hide a heart that has never truly been humbled by grace. Simon had done everything right by the standards of his day. He was a Pharisee, a keeper of the law, a man of standing. But his heart was full of pride and judgment, and he had no room for a broken woman or, it turns out, for the grace that Jesus was offering.
He judged the woman for her sin without recognizing his own. He judged Jesus for receiving her without recognizing who Jesus was. And in doing so, he exposed exactly what he lacked: a sense of his own need.
Jesus tells him a simple parable. Two men owe debts they cannot repay. One owes the equivalent of about a year and a half's wages. The other owes about a month and a half's worth. The lender forgives them both. Which one will love him more? Simon gives the obvious answer, and Jesus confirms it. Then He turns the parable into a mirror and holds it up to Simon's face.
The lesson is uncomfortable because it applies to all of us. Checking boxes is not the same as being changed. Attendance is not the same as surrender. Knowing the right answers is not the same as knowing the One who is the answer. And the watching world, the people we are trying to reach, can see the difference far more clearly than we often can.
Grace Erases What Shame Cannot
For those who have repented and placed their faith in Christ, there is a word of freedom in this passage that deserves to be heard clearly. The forgiveness the woman received was not just a moment. The verb tense in the original language carries the idea of something completed in the past that continues into the present. She was forgiven, and she remained in that condition of being forgiven.
Psalm 103:12 describes it as God removing our transgressions from us as far as the east is from the west. The guilt you carry from a past failure, a season of wandering, a decision you cannot undo, that guilt does not have to define your present. His grace is not a one-time transaction that leaves you to manage the emotional aftermath. It is a continuing reality.
If you are a follower of Christ who still lives under the weight of shame, the invitation today is to give it to Him again. And again after that. As many times as it takes.
And if you have never come to the place where you recognized your need and called on His name, the story of this woman is for you. She did not clean herself up before she came. She came broken, and He met her there.
That is what amazing grace does. It really is amazing.

You can only love like Jesus when you have first been loved by Jesus.

Most of us would describe ourselves as loving people. We love our families, our friends, and the people who encourage and support us. In Luke 6:20–36, however, Jesus asks a more searching question:

What makes your love different from everyone else’s love?

What happens when someone does not love you back? What happens when you are criticized, misunderstood, betrayed, rejected, or deeply wounded? That is where the true condition of our hearts is revealed. Anyone can love the lovable. Anyone can be kind to someone who is kind to them. Jesus calls His followers to a different kind of love—one that blesses those who curse us, prays for those who mistreat us, and extends mercy even when an apology never comes. These are not sentimental words meant for a decorative sign. Jesus is describing life under His rule. He is showing us what happens when ordinary people are transformed by extraordinary grace.

Jesus Changes What We Value

Jesus begins with a surprising description of the blessed life:

“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you shall be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh.” —Luke 6:20–21 (ESV)

If we made our own list of people we consider blessed, we might include those with successful careers, healthy families, financial security, respected names, and comfortable lives. Those things can certainly be gifts from God, but Jesus shows us something deeper:

Blessing is not determined by our circumstances.

If blessing exists only when life is easy, our faith will collapse the moment life becomes difficult. If God is good only when the diagnosis is good, what happens when the diagnosis changes? If God is faithful only when a prayer is answered the way we hoped, what happens when heaven seems silent? Jesus is not saying poverty, hunger, grief, or persecution are good in themselves. We live in a world broken by sin, and suffering is real. What makes these people blessed is not the suffering itself—it is the Savior they find in the suffering.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,” Psalm 34:18 reminds us. Our pain does not push Jesus away. We do not have to pretend everything is fine or hide our honest prayers. We can tell God when we are hurt, afraid, angry, or confused. He is not intimidated by our honesty. Our pain may even become the place where we experience Him most deeply.
Paul discovered this when he pleaded with God to remove his “thorn.” God did not give Paul the explanation he wanted. He gave Paul His presence: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Sometimes we ask God for explanations while He offers us Himself.

Jesus follows His blessings with warnings for those who are rich, full, laughing, and praised. He is not condemning money, food, happiness, or a good reputation. He is warning us not to place our hope in temporary things. We can have enough success that we stop depending on God, enough comfort that we stop praying, and enough approval that we stop asking whether He approves of our lives. We can become so full of this world that we have no appetite left for God. The gospel begins where self-sufficiency ends. The kingdom belongs to people with empty hands because empty hands are ready to receive grace.

Jesus Changes Who We Love

Jesus then turns to one of the most difficult commands in Scripture:

“But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” —Luke 6:27–28 (ESV)

Notice the four actions: love, do good, bless, and pray.

Jesus does not command a feeling. He commands faithful action. Biblical love is choosing the good of another person, even when our emotions have not caught up. Jesus is not merely talking about people who annoy us. He is talking about people who have genuinely wounded us. A former friend. A family member. A coworker. A neighbor. Perhaps even someone in the church.

When you read the word enemy, whose face comes to mind?

Do not ignore that face. The Holy Spirit may bring someone to mind because He intends to transform your heart toward that person. Jesus is not asking you to pretend the offense did not matter. He is asking whether His grace will become greater than your grievance. Loving an enemy may begin with refusing to rehearse the offense again. It may mean praying before retaliating, refusing to celebrate when that person fails, speaking truth without cruelty, or doing good for someone who can offer nothing in return.

If you are thinking, “I cannot do this,” you are right. You cannot do it on your own. This kind of love is supernatural. It is the fruit of a heart made new by Christ and a life surrendered to the Holy Spirit. We must also be clear about what Jesus is not saying. Loving our enemies does not mean calling abuse acceptable, staying in danger, or allowing someone to continue causing harm without consequences. Forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same thing. Forgiveness can take place in one heart. Reconciliation requires repentance, truth, change, and rebuilt trust. You can forgive someone while maintaining wise and necessary boundaries. Biblical love never ignores evil. It simply refuses to be controlled by evil.

Paul writes, “Repay no one evil for evil” and “never avenge yourselves” (Romans 12:17, 19). Vengeance belongs to God. One of the quickest ways to lose our joy is to spend our lives trying to do His job. Bitterness never stays contained. It spreads into our marriages, families, friendships, conversations, and worship. The person who hurt us may no longer be thinking about the offense, while the offense continues to control us. The way forward is found in Ephesians 4:32: “Forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” We forgive not because the offense was small, but because the mercy we received was great.

Jesus Changes Why We Love

Jesus asks what benefit there is in loving only those who love us, doing good only to those who do good to us, or lending only when we expect repayment. None of that requires the gospel. It is simply transactional love: I will love you if you love me. I will serve you if you appreciate me. I will give if I get something in return.

Gospel love is different: I can love because I have already been loved. I can forgive because I have already been forgiven. I can show mercy because mercy has already found me. There should be something about the love of a Christian that the world cannot explain. Our kindness should not depend on another person’s kindness. Our mercy should not depend on another person’s worthiness. Our obedience should not depend on another person’s behavior.

Jesus tells us to love our enemies because our Father “is kind to the ungrateful and the evil” (Luke 6:35). Before thinking of anyone else, we should remember that this once described us. We were the ungrateful. We were the rebels. We did not earn God’s mercy or deserve His forgiveness. Nevertheless, “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

“We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). That one verse explains the entire blog.
We love because He loved us. We forgive because He forgave us. We show mercy because He showed mercy to us.

Look at Jesus

Everything Jesus commanded, He perfectly lived.

He was betrayed, denied, abandoned, falsely accused, mocked, beaten, and nailed to a cross. While hanging there, He prayed, “Father, forgive them.” When He told us to love our enemies, He had already determined to love His. Jesus did not die merely to provide an example. He died as our substitute. He bore the judgment our sins deserved. At the cross, God’s justice and mercy met: our sin was judged, our debt was paid, and our forgiveness was secured.

Jesus loved His enemies—and by grace, we were among them.

When we trust in Christ, God does more than forgive our past. He gives us a new heart, adopts us into His family, and fills us with His Spirit. He begins to change what we value, who we love, and why we love. The Christian life is not lived by simply trying harder. It is lived by daily surrender to the Spirit who is making us more like Jesus.

Perhaps the best question is not, “Am I a loving person?” The better question is: Am I becoming a person who loves more like Jesus? Who in your life needs to experience the love of Jesus through you this week? Maybe obedience begins with a simple prayer:

Father, help me forgive. Help me release my bitterness and stop replaying the offense. Help me trust You with justice. Give me wisdom to establish healthy boundaries without hatred. Help me love like Jesus. Amen.

Forgiveness is often not a single moment. It is a rhythm of surrender. Every time the pain returns, we hand it back to God. Every time resentment rises, we surrender it again. Every time we want revenge, we remember the cross.

Obedience often comes before emotion. Take the first faithful step today.

When Familiarity Breeds Contempt: The Danger of Taking Jesus for Granted
Have you ever noticed how the people closest to something extraordinary often appreciate it the least?
Imagine a talented young woman returning to her small hometown after years away. At first, everyone celebrates her success and welcomes her home. But as she begins sharing innovative ideas and challenging old ways of doing things, the atmosphere shifts. "Who does she think she is?" they whisper. "We've always done it this way." The cheers turn to coldness, and admiration morphs into antagonism.
This exact scenario played out in Nazareth when Jesus returned to His hometown synagogue. What began with marvel ended in murderous rage—all in the span of a few verses in Luke chapter 4.

The Master's Rhythm
Jesus had a pattern to His life that's easy to overlook but essential to understand. Luke 4:16 tells us that "as His custom was, He went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day."
Think about that. Jesus—fully God and fully man—made it His habit to gather with God's people for worship. He didn't argue that the religious system was corrupt or that He didn't need instruction. He simply showed up, week after week, to the place of prayer.
This rhythm included three vital components:
Time with the Father. Luke 5:16 reveals that Jesus "often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed." His connection to God through prayer wasn't optional; it was essential.
Time with God's people. Jesus prioritized corporate worship and invested deeply in a smaller group of disciples, teaching them and answering their questions.
Time proclaiming the gospel. Jesus was sent to "preach the gospel to the poor...to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives" (Luke 4:18).
Here's what's remarkable: Jesus did all of this in the power of the Holy Spirit. Luke 4:1 says He was "filled with the Holy Spirit," and verse 14 says He returned "in the power of the Spirit." If Jesus—who could have done everything in His own strength—demonstrated the necessity of the Holy Spirit's power, how much more do we need it?

The Crowd's Response: From Amazement to Anger
When Jesus stood in the Nazareth synagogue and read from Isaiah 61, the crowd's initial response was positive. They "marveled at the gracious words which proceeded out of His mouth" (Luke 4:22). It was almost endearing to them—"Isn't this Joseph's son? Look how he's grown up and made something of himself!"
But their amazement was like Fruit Stripe gum—wonderful for about two seconds before it completely faded.
The problem? They couldn't reconcile Jesus's ordinary origins with His extraordinary claims. A carpenter's son claiming to be the Messiah? Impossible. They wanted a military leader to overthrow Roman rule, not a hometown boy talking about good news for the poor and freedom for captives.
Their question—"Is this not Joseph's son?"—wasn't genuine inquiry. It was skeptical objection. In their culture, a person's status was fixed by birth and family. Craftsmen didn't become Messiahs.
The Danger of Familiarity
Familiarity can be the enemy of faith. The people of Nazareth thought they knew Jesus, so they dismissed Him. They were too close to see clearly. Comfort bred complacency, which resulted in compromise.
This same danger threatens us today. We can sit through service after service, read familiar Bible stories, and check spiritual boxes without ever truly encountering the living Christ. We can become so accustomed to the gospel that we lose our sense of awe.
When Jesus perceived their unspoken demand—"Prove it! Do miracles here like you did in Capernaum!"—He refused to play their game. Instead, He reminded them of something uncomfortable: God had bypassed Jewish widows to help a Gentile widow through Elijah. God had healed Naaman the Syrian leper while many Jewish lepers remained unhealed.
The message was clear: "You think you're special because you're chosen, but privilege without faith means nothing. God's kingdom will move on to those who believe."
The Fury of Rejection
The crowd's response? Fury. Luke 4:28-29 records that "all those in the synagogue, when they heard these things, were filled with wrath." They dragged Jesus to a cliff intending to throw Him off.
Why such rage? Because Jesus challenged their exclusivism and their expectations. He suggested that Gentiles might be more receptive to God's grace than they were. He refused to conform to their vision of what the Messiah should be.
The irony is staggering. These people knew Jesus's lineage—the house of David. They'd heard of His miracles. They knew the prophecies. Isaiah 11 spoke of a "branch" (netzer in Hebrew) growing from Jesse's root, and their town's very name—Nazareth—connected to this prophecy. The Messiah might come from their own hometown, and yet when He stood before them, they rejected Him.
Learning from Nazareth
The account of Jesus in Nazareth holds profound lessons for us today:
Don't let familiarity dull your wonder. Every time we open Scripture, we need to pray, "Open my eyes that I may behold wonderful things out of Your law" (Psalm 119:18). The Spirit must illuminate truth afresh.
Prioritize the rhythms Jesus modeled. Daily time with God. Regular gathering with God's people. Ongoing proclamation of the gospel. These aren't optional add-ons; they're essential patterns for disciples.
Remember where you came from. The antidote to spiritual complacency is remembering the grace that saved us. We have no room for pride or exclusivism.
Stay receptive to God's Word. Being in the right place (church, Bible study, worship) doesn't guarantee a receptive heart. We must prepare ourselves to hear, humble ourselves to learn, and open ourselves to be challenged.
The Invitation Still Stands
Jesus proclaimed the "acceptable year of the Lord"—the Jubilee when debts were forgiven, slaves were freed, and land was restored. This was a picture of what He offers every person: spiritual freedom from sin's bondage, restoration of our relationship with God, and a fresh start.
The people of Nazareth had front-row seats to this announcement, and they rejected it. They were spiritually blind and dull of hearing, unable to see what was right before them.
The question for us is simple: Will we be like Nazareth, or will we be like those who received Jesus with faith? Will familiarity breed contempt, or will it deepen into genuine encounter?
A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone who is perfectly trained will be like his teacher (Luke 6:40). As we progressively become more like Jesus, we adopt His rhythms, share His mission, and live in His power.
The invitation to follow Jesus isn't just about escaping eternal punishment. It's about living for Him now—abiding in His presence, connecting in biblical community, and sharing His gospel with every person in every place.
Don't let another day pass in spiritual dullness. The same Jesus who stood in that Nazareth synagogue stands ready to encounter you afresh today.

I heard my friend and the lead pastor at 412 Tabernacle, John (JP) Smitherman, talk about pressure recently, and it stuck with me. He kept coming back to the same statement over and over again: “Pressure represents a weight of glory we can’t lift without Jesus. He lifts what we can’t.”
That changes the way you see everything.
Because if we’re honest, most of us don’t like pressure. We try to avoid it, pray it away, or complain about it like it’s the worst thing in the world. What if we’ve been looking at it all wrong? What if pressure isn’t the problem? What if pressure is actually the platform God uses to grow you? So let me give you a few things about pressure that I think the Lord is teaching me.  

Pressure Reveals What You Were Never Meant to Carry
There is a weight to life that you were never meant to carry by yourself. Responsibilities, expectations, family, ministry, and even the private battles that no one else sees all begin to stack up. The Apostle Paul writes, “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Corinthians 4:17,). That means there is a weight of glory coming, and you don’t have the strength to carry it on your own. Pressure exposes that reality. It reminds you that you are not enough and you were never supposed to be. That realization is not meant to discourage you; it’s meant to direct you straight to Jesus.

Jesus Lifts What You Can’t
We love the idea of Jesus as Savior, but we often forget that He is also our sustainer. In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” He doesn’t say to come after you’ve figured everything out or once you’ve managed the pressure on your own. He simply says, “Bring Me the weight.” Think about that...Jesus actually wants you to put the pressure on Him. He can handle it. He can carry it. He’s not overwhelmed by what overwhelms you.
So instead of trying to hold it all together, you can hand it over. The weight you’re feeling was never meant to stay on your shoulders—it was meant to drive you to His.
Pressure is not proof that God has abandoned you; more often, it is evidence that He is drawing you closer. The weight you feel is exactly where His strength shows up the most. As Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” The very place where you feel like you’re at your limit is the place where Jesus proves that He is more than enough. I’ve even started praying differently. I once heard Joby Martin say, “Lord, don’t lighten my load, broaden my shoulders.” That changes the prayer. Instead of asking God to remove the pressure, you start asking Him to grow you through it.

Pressure Produces Movement
I’m not sure about you, but at my house there’s always a running “honey-do” list. It’s full of things I fully intend to get done…Eventually. But if I’m being honest, most of those things don’t actually get done until there’s some pressure, like when a birthday party is about to happen at the house or my wife has any kind of planned event. I’m convinced… She might be doing that on purpose just to get me moving. Suddenly, there’s urgency, focus, and action. Why? Because pressure produces movement. Pressure forces us to our knees in prayer. Many of us don’t really pray until there’s pressure. We don’t consistently open God’s Word until there’s pressure. We don’t fully depend on Him until there’s pressure. While we might see that as a weakness, God uses it as part of His process. Pressure has a way of waking us up and pushing us toward the very things we need most.

Pressure Isn’t Punishment — It’s Preparation
We often assume that if life feels hard, something must be wrong. But Scripture teaches the opposite. James 1:2–3 says, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” Pressure is not pointless. It is producing something in you. It strengthens your faith, deepens your dependence on God, builds endurance, and prepares you for what lies ahead. Growth does not happen without resistance, and strength is never developed without pressure.

The Real Danger
The real danger is not pressure itself, it’s trying to handle pressure without Jesus. Pressure will either push you toward Christ or push you deeper into yourself, and only one of those paths leads to life.
If you try to carry everything on your own, you will eventually burn out, shut down, or give up. But if pressure drives you to Jesus, you begin to experience something different. You find peace in the middle of chaos, strength in the middle of weakness, and purpose in the middle of pain.

So What Do You Do With Pressure?
Instead of running from pressure or wasting it, you can choose to use it. Let pressure push you into God’s Word, drive you to prayer, and remind you of how much you truly need Him. The goal is not to live a pressure-free life. The goal is to live a Christ-dependent life.
So the next time you feel the weight, don’t panic and don’t quit. Look to Jesus. The same Savior who rescued you is the same Savior who will sustain you.

15 Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. 17 And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.
-1 John 2:15-17

There’s a quiet tension that shows up in all of us. We love God…But we also feel drawn to things we know does not lead us closer to Him. 1 John speaks with clarity: “Do not love the world or the things in the world…” John isn’t being dramatic, he’s being honest. There is a real pull on your heart, and it’s not random. It’s intentional. Because here’s the truth that I don’t think we talk about enough…Your story has a villain. Not metaphorically. Not like “bad habits” or “negative energy.” I mean…a real enemy. The Bible says in 1 Peter 5:8: “Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” That’s strong language.Not to distract you. Not to inconvenience you. Devour you.

The Way Temptation Actually Works
I once heard Pastor Joby Martin (Lead Pastor of The Church of Eleven22) explain this in a way that has stuck with me, and it’s incredibly helpful for both students and parents.

Temptation isn’t usually a shove. It’s a lure.

Think about fishing for a moment. You don’t just throw anything into the water and hope for the best. You choose a lure that entices the fish. You study the environment. You adjust your strategy. That’s what the enemy does. He watches. He learns. He tailors the lure. And if one doesn’t work? He reels it back in…switches it out… and casts again. Over and over.

The Three Lures We All Face
John breaks temptation into three categories to help us expose the strategies.

1. The Desires of the Flesh
This is the pull toward comfort, pleasure, and escape.

This looks like:
Giving in to temptation when you’re alone
Letting emotions control your decisions
Chasing comfort instead of obedience

Let me ask you this…Where in your life are you choosing what feels good…Over what you know is right?

2. The Desires of the Eyes
This is the pull toward what looks good. It’s fueled by comparison and the constant feeling that something else would make life better.

This looks like:
Comparing your life to someone else’s highlight reel
Wanting what others have in relationships, popularity, attention
Being discontent with what God has already given you

Let me ask you this…Where are you constantly looking…and feeling like what you have isn’t enough?

3. The Pride of Life
This is the pull toward recognition, control, and status.
It shows up in thoughts like:
“I need to be seen.”
“I need to be right.”
“I need to be in control.”

This looks like:
Caring more about what people think than what God says
Needing validation - likes, attention, approval
Wanting control instead of surrender

Let me ask you…Where do you need to be seen…or in control…instead of trusting God?

Why This Matters More Than You Think
John doesn’t just name the lures, he tells us the outcome. “The world is passing away along with its desires…” Everything those lures promise… is temporary. Every bit of it. The satisfaction doesn’t last. The approval fades. The control slips. But then John gives us a better option: “Whoever does the will of God abides forever.”

The Call to Abide
The answer isn’t just “try harder.” It’s abide. To abide means to remain. To stay. To build your life in a place where your heart is anchored in God instead of drifting toward the world.
That doesn’t happen by accident. It happens through intentional rhythms.

Build “God Time” Into Your Life
If we’re honest, most of us don’t drift toward God, we drift away from Him. That’s why “God time” matters. Not as a checkbox… but as a daily connection.

For students:
Start small and stay consistent. (Our Daily Student Reading Plan is perfect for this!)
Read Scripture with the goal of knowing God, not just finishing a plan

For parents:
Model this rhythm in your home. Let your kids see you opening the Bible, praying, and depending on God. Consistency matters more than intensity.

Build “Group Time” Into Your Life. 
In Mark 2, a man who couldn’t get to Jesus on his own had friends who carried him...Literally. They didn’t just encourage him. They got him to Jesus. We all need people like that. We all need to surround ourselves with mat carriers. People who: Tell us the truth when we’re drifting, ask hard questions, and point us back to what actually matters. Students, this means choosing friends who help you follow Jesus, not just have fun. Parents, this means having relationships where you’re known, challenged, and supported. I cannot stress the importance of finding yourself in an accountability group where people can love and speak truth in your life. Because none of us are strong enough to fight every lure alone.

A Final Word:
Here’s the reality: The enemy is still casting-even right now as you read this blog. And if one lure doesn’t work, he’ll try another. But you don’t have to keep biting. You can recognize the pattern. You can resist the pull. You can choose something better.

So take a moment and ask:
What lure am I most drawn to right now?
Where am I drifting instead of abiding?
Who in my life is helping me stay anchored in truth?
Because the things of this world are fading. But a life that abides, that’s what lasts.