I’ve practiced fasting from after dinner until lunch for many years. These days, fasting is widely embraced for its health benefits, but its deeper value is spiritual.

Biblical fasting is meant to open our eyes to more of God, to awaken a deeper hunger for Him, to draw us nearer to Christ, and to train our hearts to find strength and joy in His presence. If every other benefit of fasting were stripped away, this alone would be enough.

John Piper, in his book "A Hunger for God," writes this;

“Bread was created for the glory of Christ. Hunger and thirst were created for the glory of Christ. And fasting was created for the glory of Christ.

Which means that bread magnifies Christ in two ways: by being eaten with gratitude for his goodness, and by being forfeited out of hunger for God himself. When we eat, we taste the emblem of our heavenly food—the Bread of Life. And when we fast we say, “I love the Reality above the emblem.” In the heart of the saint both eating and fasting are worship. Both magnify Christ.”

Fasting is about what our hearts crave. It exposes what we truly hunger for, and teaches us to hunger for God above all.

“I humbled my soul with fasting…” (Psalm 35:13)

When you remove food, what rises to the surface reveals your deeper desires. Fasting is meant to redirect that hunger toward God.

For Jesus, fasting wasn’t optional. Notice His words:
“When you fast…” (Matthew 6:16) Not if, but when. Jesus expects His people to fast.

This has been a practice for the people of God for centuries.
“Return to me with all your heart, with fasting… rend your hearts and not your garments.” (Joel 2:12–13)

But many of us mistake fasting for denial. Denial is giving something up for a time, like social media, desserts, or entertainment. That can be helpful for drawing near to God, and disciplining ourselves, but biblical fasting is specifically fasting from food. (1 Corinthians 9:27)

Why fast?

God rewards fasting because we are saying with the cry of our hearts that nothing else satisfies me, except for Christ alone.

Historically, during Lent, the church set aside this season leading up to Easter to fast and pray, to express their desire for Christ alone and to prepare their hearts to remember the cross and celebrate the resurrection.

So this is why this year we are leaning into fasting.

What could fasting look like?

For some, fasting for a full day may be appropriate. For others, depending on health or season of life, it may not be wise and that’s okay.

A simple place to start:

1. Skip one meal and replace that time with prayer
2. Fast from sunrise to sunset
3. Fast two meals and eat one
4. The goal isn’t the method, it’s making space to seek God.

Resources:

1. A Guide to Christian Fasting by desiringGod.org
2. Should Christians Fast? by TableTalk Magazine  
3. "For The Church" on Fasting by Jared C. Wilson 

A few years ago I went to the dentist expecting a routine visit. I assumed it was a simple cavity appointment. Nothing serious. But when I arrived, the receptionist casually mentioned the dentist was preparing for surgery. A few minutes later I heard the words root canal, and I realized I didn't read the instructions ahead of time. That moment taught me something simple: instructions matter, especially when you are heading into danger.

That is exactly how Paul ends the book of Ephesians. He is not offering random closing thoughts. He is giving urgent instructions to believers living in a real spiritual battle.
Paul begins with a command: “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.” Notice he does not say be strong in yourself. The strength the Christian needs does not come from effort or discipline alone. It comes from the Lord.

Then Paul tells us why this strength is necessary: “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” The Christian life is not a playground. It is a battlefield. Our struggle is not merely against circumstances or difficult seasons. Beneath those struggles is a deeper conflict involving spiritual forces that oppose the work of Christ.

When Paul speaks about the armor of God, he is not inventing a new idea. He is drawing from the Old Testament picture of the Lord as the divine warrior. In Isaiah 59:17 the Lord is described this way: “He put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head.”

And in Isaiah 11:5 we read, “Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist, and faithfulness the belt of his loins.”

The armor Paul describes is God’s armor. The strength believers stand in is not their own strength but the strength of the Lord.

Paul then describes how this armor equips us to stand.

The belt of truth holds everything together. A life shaped by God’s truth and lived with integrity keeps believers from tripping over hidden sin and deception.

The breastplate of righteousness protects the heart. It is a life brought under obedience to God, where areas of compromise are surrendered to Him.

The shoes of the gospel of peace give readiness and stability. The gospel grounds our lives and sends us forward on the mission of Christ.

The shield of faith is what we list up to extinguish the enemy’s flaming darts, lies, accusations, and despair, by trusting the promises of God.

The helmet of salvation guards the mind with assurance that Christ has already secured our redemption.

And the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, is the believer’s offensive weapon.

Scripture brought to mind and spoken in faith cuts through deception and exposes lies.
Paul closes by reminding the church to pray at all times in the Spirit. Prayer keeps believers alert and dependent on God, and it is the very thing that makes the Word alive and active in our lives.

Perhaps you are struggling to believe your identity in Christ. Perhaps you are wrestling with doubt. Maybe your marriage is hanging on by a thread. The call of God in this passage is to remember that your enemy is not your spouse, and it is not merely the difficult circumstances around you.

Our battle is deeper than what we see.

Paul reminds us that “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood.” Our struggle is against the devil and the spiritual forces at work behind the scenes of our lives; forces that seek to keep conflict alive in our homes, to keep hidden sin buried in the dark, and to push us further away from God’s purposes.

But the encouragement of this passage is that God has not left His people defenseless. He has given us His armor, His Word, and the gift of prayer so that we can stand firm in Christ.

Jesus has already won the victory. Our call is simple: stand firm in Him, by putting on His armor. 

History shows that when ordinary people trust God enough to pray, God often moves in extraordinary ways. Not because prayer manipulates God, but because the sovereign God who rules all things has chosen to accomplish His purposes through the prayers of His people.

In the 1850s, during an economic crisis in America, a quiet Christian businessman named Jeremiah Lanphier began a simple lunch-hour prayer meeting in New York City. The first week only six people came. But they prayed. Within months thousands were gathering daily across the city, and the movement spread throughout the country. Historians estimate that over a million people came to faith in Christ. It became known as the Layman’s Prayer Revival. It began with one ordinary person who believed God hears the prayers of ordinary people.

That is exactly where the book of James ends.

Throughout the letter, James confronts the church’s double-mindedness. He exposes pride, conflict, favoritism, and divided loyalties. And in the final verses he brings everything back to faith-filled prayer. The greatest danger to the church is not what happens around us, but when we attempt to do God’s work in our own strength rather than in dependence on the Spirit of God.

Francis Schaeffer once wrote:
“The central problem of our age is not liberalism or modernism, nor Roman Catholicism, nor the threat of communism, nor even rationalism. The real problem is this: the church of the Lord Jesus Christ, individually and corporately, tending to do the Lord’s work in the power of the flesh rather than of the Spirit.”

So how do we do the Lord’s work the Lord’s way?

First, believers are called to pray in weakness. James writes, “Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray… Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church” (James 5:13–14).

James is talking about sickness and suffering, showing us that our deepest problem is not physical frailty but spiritual sickness caused by sin. We aren't sick because of our sin but sometimes God does use our illnesses to uncover our deeper need for the salvation.

Second, the church must confess sin honestly. James commands, “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16). Confession exposes what sin tries to hide and reminds us that our relationship with Jesus is personal but never private. As Paul writes, “We are members one of another” (Ephesians 4:25).

Third, James calls believers to trust God’s power. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours. His prayers were effective not because of personal greatness but because they aligned with the purposes of a sovereign God. James says, “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.”(James 5:16)

Righteousness here is not perfection but a life aligned with God through repentance and obedience, grounded not in our own righteousness but in Christ righteousness.

James also shows that faithful prayer is persistent. Elijah prayed, and then he prayed again. Even when nothing appeared to happen, he continued asking. Persistent prayer does not attempt to force God’s hand; it expresses confidence in His character and trust in His timing. (James 5:18)

Finally, James connects prayer to God’s mission. The greatest miracle is not merely physical healing but the restoration of wandering sinners. God has ordained that the prayers of His people participate in His redeeming work. (James 5:19–20)

And like the Layman’s Prayer Revival, we may yet see the fruit of a generation that refuses to waste our lives praying for better outcomes alone.

What if we linked our story with God’s story and aligned our hearts with His heart for the world?

What if every prayer ended with this:
“God, glorify Your name and advance Your kingdom.”

You may not have grown up in a church tradition that observes Lent. Maybe this is the first time you’re even hearing the word. Or maybe you come from a Catholic background and Lent feels very familiar to you.

While the Bible does not use the word Lent, the season reflects a pattern found throughout Scripture. Lent is an intentional time to slow down, pray, fast, repent, reflect, and return to God (Joel 2:12–13; James 4:8). For generations, the church has observed this season as a way of preparing hearts for the cross and the resurrection.

In many ways, Lent simply gives shape to rhythms already present in the Bible, setting aside time to fix our eyes on Christ, grieve our sin honestly, and anchor ourselves again in the hope of the gospel.

If you’re familiar with Lent, you know it marks the 40 days leading up to Easter, Sundays excepted. Like Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, it has often been reduced to giving up chocolate or other comforts to show devotion. But Lent is far deeper than proving you can give something up. Jesus modeled a different pattern, spending forty days fasting and preparing for ministry (Matt. 4:1–2), living in dependence on the Father.

Lent begins this year on Ash Wednesday, a day that may feel unfamiliar or even confusing to some. If you grew up in a Catholic setting, you may remember ashes placed on your forehead. In Scripture, ashes represent grief over sin. Job sat in dust and ashes as a sign of repentance (Job 42:6), reminding us of our brokenness and our humanity, that we are dust and will return to dust (Gen. 3:19; Ps. 103:14).

In a culture where the self can easily take center stage, Lent redirects our attention to the cross. It invites us to face our sin honestly and remember our frailty. Yet the story does not end in ashes. Scripture tells us that “godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret” (2 Cor. 7:10). Jesus meets us in our repentance and leads us into newness of life.

As we consider how to live more consistently in the life Christ has secured for us, Lent calls us to move from brokenness toward hope. It reorients our hearts from the cross to the empty tomb, remembering that “He was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification” (Rom. 4:25).

Here are two reasons to participate in Lent this year, and how.

1. Lent gives us an intentional season of preparing for Easter.
Much like Advent prepares us for Christmas, Lent prepares us for the resurrection. The resurrection is not merely an event. It is a reminder that God is making all things new (Rev. 21:5). Too often we overlook how deeply the empty tomb should shape our daily lives, yet Scripture reminds us that “without the resurrection, our faith is futile” (1 Cor. 15:14).

Lent invites us to die to ourselves, to lay down desires, cravings, and passions that pull us away from the life God calls us into (Luke 9:23; Gal. 5:24). It is a season to consider what it means for those old patterns to fade so that new life, joy, and peace in Christ might rise on the other side (Rom. 6:4).

Lent reminds us that we live in the tension of the already and the not yet, and that tension is filled with hope. We still experience brokenness now, yet through the resurrection our future is already secured (1 Pet. 1:3–4). Because of that, resurrection hope meets us in our suffering and reminds us that evil and pain are not our final story (Rom. 8:18).

During Lent, we learn to stand where the disciples once stood, holding grief and wonder together as we move toward the joy of that morning when the empty tomb changed everything (Matt. 28:8; Mark 16:8; Luke 24:12).

2. Lent gives us the opportunity to remember how hungry for God we really are.
After Jesus fasted and prayed in the wilderness for forty days, He began His earthly ministry (Matt. 4:1–4). In those weeks in the desert, Jesus experienced hunger, loneliness, and temptation, yet He remained sinless and faithful to the Father (Heb. 4:15).

Observing Lent is not easy. Giving something up for a season exposes how attached we can be to comfort or routine. We may even feel “withdrawal symptoms” from whatever our normal fix may be. He reminds us, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matt. 4:4).

Why give something up? Fasting is more than simply giving something up for God. It is meant to grow in us a deeper hunger for God. Probably the best book on fasting I have ever read is by John Piper called A Hunger for God: Desiring God through Fasting and Prayer. He writes this on fasting:

“The final answer is that God rewards fasting because fasting expresses the cry of the heart that nothing on the earth can satisfy our souls besides God. God must reward this cry because God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.”

“...fasting, for Ezra, was not only an expression of humility and desperation; it was an expression of desiring God with life-and-death seriousness. ‘So we fasted and implored our God.’ Fasting comes in alongside prayer with all its hunger for God and says, ‘We are not able in ourselves to win this battle. We are not able to change hearts or minds. We are not able to change worldviews and transform culture and save 1.6 million children. We are not able to reform the judiciary or embolden the legislature or mobilize the slumbering population. We are not able to heal the endless wounds of godless ideologies and their bloody deeds. But, O God, you are able!’”

In other words, giving something up for Lent is not a way to try to get something from God. It teaches us how desperate we are for God and for him to do what only He can. Learning to depend on Him is the sweet spot of the Christian life (John 15:5).

Two Ways to Observe Lent

1. Fast.
The goal of fasting is not simply giving something up. The aim is to fast in a way that turns your heart toward God whenever you feel absence of food (Isa. 58:6–9). Fasting reminds us that our deepest need is not comfort, distraction, or control, but Christ Himself. It is not about shaking off a bad habit or avoiding something you should not eat like ice cream. It is about reordering desire and sacrifice.

That is the heart behind biblical fasting. Not proving devotion, but cultivating greater dependence. 

In Scripture, fasting is primarily tied to food. While there are moments in the bible of denying self of other comforts, the Bible makes a distinction between fasting and simple self-denial. Food remains central because it exposes how deeply we rely on daily provision.

Hunger becomes a teacher, echoing Jesus’ words in the wilderness: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” God’s Word, His promises, and His presence are our true sustenance, and fasting helps bring that truth into clearer focus.

Biblically, fasting is tied to specific purposes:

• Repentance and Lament
  Nehemiah 9:1–3 – Israel fasts while confessing sin and returning to the Law.
  1 Samuel 7:5–6 – Fasting connected to repentance
  Jonah 3:5–10 – Nineveh fasts in response to God’s warning.

• Grief and Mourning
  1 Samuel 31:13 – Israel fasts after Saul’s death.
  2 Samuel 1:12 – David and his men fast in mourning.
  Psalm 35:13 – David describes fasting in sorrow for others.

• Petition and Preparation
  Ezra 8:21–23 – Fasting for God’s protection and guidance.
  Acts 13:2–3 – The church fasts before sending out missionaries.
  Acts 14:23 – Prayer and fasting before installing elders.

The common thread in each example is dependence. Fasting is a visible confession that we need God more than what sustains us physically. Or as John Piper often describes it, fasting is a hunger for God.

2. Focus.
Lent gives us intentional time to fix our hearts and minds on the life, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus (Heb. 12:2; Col. 3:1–2). Reading a devotional with a Lent focus can stir our affections for Christ and remind us how much we need Him. We recommend this free online devotional written by Tim Keller before he passed and provided by Gospel in Life. Click below to begin reading.

Daily Lent Devotional

“The supremacy of God in all things is the great reward we long for in fasting. His supremacy in our own affections and in all our life-choices. His supremacy in the purity of the church. His supremacy in the salvation of the lost. His supremacy in the establishing of righteousness and justice. And his supremacy for the joy of all peoples in the evangelization of the world.”
― John Piper

According to the U.S. Treasury, millions of counterfeit bills circulate every year. They look real, feel real, and often go unnoticed. That’s what makes them dangerous. Not because they look fake, but because they look right while something essential is missing.

James says wisdom can work the same way.

As you read James 3:13–18, you'll discover that not everything called wisdom actually comes from God. Some thinking sounds wise, feels effective, and even gains cultural approval, yet it is disconnected from the heart of Christ. Scripture calls us to test the source of the wisdom shaping our lives.

Here's James point: Wisdom does not just solve problems. Godly wisdom flows from a pure heart and produces peace.

James asks a piercing question: “Who is wise and understanding among you?” True wisdom is not proven by opinions, or intellect but by conduct, by a life marked with gentleness, humility, purity and peace. 

Biblical wisdom is not just knowing more. It is seeing life from God’s perspective and living accordingly.

Worldly wisdom grows from self-protection, comparison, and ambition. It traces back to the same lie from Genesis 3: you can decide for yourself what is best. It promises control but produces disorder. Godly wisdom, however, comes from above. James says that what Godly wisdom actually looks like, it's pure, peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy, and sincere. It reflects a heart surrendered to God.

The difference is revealed most clearly when pressure rises. Counterfeit wisdom pushes us to prove ourselves, defend our image, or win the moment. Wisdom from above leads us toward peace, toward reconciliation, toward trust in God’s sovereignty. or as James says towards "a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace." (3:18)

Jesus Himself embodies this wisdom. Though He had all authority, He chose surrender. Through the cross and resurrection, He secured a harvest of righteousness and peace for us.

The question James leaves us with is simple but convicting: What kind of wisdom is shaping your life? God invites us to ask for wisdom from above, to cultivate hearts rooted in Christ, and to live with a faith that produces peace. 

We live in a world that knows how to talk.

We talk about what we believe.
We talk about what we value.
We talk about what we’re “all about.”

But James asks a question that cuts through all the noise:
Is your faith alive?

Not just something you claim.
Not just something you feel on a Sunday when the song hits.
But something that shows up when life gets real.

James opens his letter by telling us what God is after in our faith: wholeness.
“That you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:4)

“Perfect” doesn’t mean flawless. It means whole, mature, integrated. Not divided. And
James warns us about the opposite:
“A double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.” (James 1:6–8)

Double-minded literally means “two-souled”
One foot in the kingdom, one foot in the world.

So James isn’t giving us religious theory. He’s calling us to a whole faith that lives from the wholeness of Jesus.

In James 2, he makes it plain: Faith that saves is faith that works.

James says there’s a kind of faith that has the right words and the right knowledge, but is still dead. You can say the correct things and still ignore the needy. You can know true doctrine and still refuse obedience.

“Even the demons believe—and shudder!” (James 2:19)

Real faith doesn’t just nod at Jesus. It kneels.

But James isn’t trying to crush you with shame. He’s pointing you to grace. We are not made right with God by works, but by faith in Christ. And here’s what many of us forget:

Grace is not just a doctrine. Grace is oxygen.
Faith is how we breathe it in.

Paul Tripp puts it like this: grace is the nutrients, and faith is how we access those nutrients. And if we aren’t breathing in the nutrients of grace, purchased salvation, joy, new life, and God’s promises, our lives will stay fruitless.

A fruit tree only becomes fruitful when it’s being fed and watered with what it actually needs to grow. And the same is true for you and me. Works are the evidence. The fruit. The receipt of a life that’s been breathing in the sufficiency of God’s grace.

So the question isn’t, “Are you perfect?”
It’s: Is Jesus making you new?

Because faith that saves… is faith that works.

The gospel spreads through shared life

If you were to ask people, “What attracts you to the church?” or “What pushes you away from the church?” most answers wouldn’t be about the music, the preaching, or the building.

It would be about the people.

Too controlling. Too judgmental. Too weird. Too focused on money. Not honest enough. Not welcoming enough.

And here’s the hard part: a lot of people don’t reject Jesus because they’ve truly seen Him. They reject a version of Jesus they experienced through Christians. For many, their view of Jesus has been shaped more by the church’s culture than by Christ’s character.
That’s why Acts 2 matters so much.

At the end of Acts 2, we’re not just getting a history lesson. We’re getting a picture. A blueprint. A snapshot of what happens when the Holy Spirit doesn’t just inspire a sermon, but ignites a people.

After Peter’s sermon, God does a miracle work of salvation, drawing 3,000 people to repent, confess Jesus as Lord, and be baptized. And the very first response we see after their conversion is this: the Spirit comes with power, changes hearts from the inside out, and forms a brand new kind of community.

The Spirit doesn’t just save individuals.
He creates a family.
A new kind of people.
A shared life.
A living witness.

This is bigger than a “church service.” God is reestablishing His dwelling place on earth.
In the Old Testament, you came to God through a priest at the temple, because that’s where the presence of God was. But now, because Jesus is the true and better Mediator, and because His Spirit fills His people, the presence of God isn’t confined to a building.
Now the church is the temple.

Now God’s people are where heaven touches earth.
Now God uses His church to help other people meet Him.

And Acts 2:47 gives us the result:
“And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.”
The church is built on the Word preached and the message of salvation, and God uses the church not mainly as a service you attend, but as a people you belong to. A community with such gospel depth and Spirit power that the watching world can’t ignore what’s happening.

Here’s the big idea:
The Spirit creates a gospel-shaped community whose shared life makes Jesus visible to the world.

Acts 2:42–47 shows us three marks of the church the Spirit produces.

1) The Spirit forms a devoted people (v. 42)
“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (v.42). This wasn’t casual Christianity. Devotion wasn’t a way to earn God’s love, it was a response to God’s love. The gospel rearranged their lives around Jesus, His Word, His people, and His mission.

2) The Spirit produces a shared and awe-filled life (vv. 43–46)
Awe came upon every soul, and God worked powerfully among them (vv.43–46). They gathered in large settings and in homes. They shared meals, needs, laughter, burdens, and prayers. In a world where loneliness runs deep, the church became a place where people were known, loved, and restored. Sometimes God restores awe through we.

3) The Spirit Sends Us Into the World Through Visible Shared Life (v. 47)
Verse 47 shows us the outward result of an inwardly formed church: “praising God and having favor with all the people.” Their worship was visible. Their joy was visible. Their generosity was visible. Their love was visible. And God used what people could see to do what only He can do: save.

They had favor with others not because everyone agreed with them, but because their lives had credibility. They were known for humility, not superiority. For generosity, not manipulation. For love, not drama. And as the gospel became visible through ordinary people living an extraordinary shared life, Luke says, “the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.”

Acts 2 isn’t telling us, “Try harder to be a better church.” It’s showing us what happens when the gospel is real, the Spirit is present, and God’s people live like what they already are in Christ: a devoted people, a shared people, and a sent people.

And church family, this is still God’s plan to reach the world: not just through sermons and programs, but through a gospel-shaped community whose shared life makes Jesus visible.

Once Jesus recenters His disciples on the Father’s plan, He gives them what they need to live faithfully in the meantime.

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses…”

Jesus doesn’t hand them a schedule.
He gives them a promise.

Mission doesn’t begin with strategy. It begins with power.
Relying on the Spirit’s Power.

This is not about getting more of the Spirit. If you are in Christ, you already have Him. This is about living under His authority.

The issue isn’t supply.
It’s surrender.

You don’t need more of the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit needs more of you.

The early church didn’t advance because they were impressive. They advanced because they were dependent. A church motivated by God’s glory doesn’t run on hype or hustle. It runs on the quiet, faithful power of the Spirit of God.

Living as Witnesses
Jesus says, “You will be my witnesses.”
Then He ascends.

As the disciples stare into the sky, angels ask, “Why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus… will come in the same way you saw him go.”

We are witnesses to two unshakable realities:

1. Jesus has accomplished salvation.
2. Jesus is coming back.

A witness doesn’t invent the truth. A witness tells what they’ve seen.

We testify that Jesus died for sinners.
That He rose victorious.
That salvation is by grace.
That lives are truly changed.

And we live with our eyes forward, anticipating His return. That expectation reshapes everything. How we endure suffering. How we steward time and money. Why we choose generosity over consumption and eternal fruit over temporary comfort.

Most kingdom investments don’t look impressive in the moment. They look like ordinary obedience. Showing up. Giving faithfully. Sharing the gospel again. Serving when no one notices.

But Scripture is clear: nothing given to God is ever wasted.

When your life is invested in the reign of Christ, it never ends in loss. It always ends in glory.

Glory Always Moves Outward
What ultimately took Jesus to the cross was not first us.
It was the glory of His Father.

“For this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” (John 12:27–28)

And yet, in the wisdom of God, we are the gracious beneficiaries of that glory-driven mission.

When God’s glory captures us, it never leaves us turned inward. Glory always moves outward. It sends. It witnesses. It advances the kingdom.

So as we step into a new year, may we be a people who trust the Father, rely on the Spirit, bear witness to the Son, and live ready for His return.

May we be motivated by God’s glory
and moved into God’s mission.

As we step into a new year, there’s something clarifying about the calendar turning over. A fresh page has a way of pressing honest questions to the surface.

• What are we really living for?
• What’s shaping our priorities?
• What’s driving our decisions?

Those questions don’t just help us set goals. They reveal what’s forming us.

For some, last year carried big hopes, and this year feels a little underwhelming. For others, last year was good, and now you’re wondering what comes next. A new year has a way of surfacing both fresh questions and unresolved ones we never quite dealt with.

That’s why, as a church, we’re slowing down. Not to drift. But to be re-centered.

Our vision as a church is: Multiplying gospel-centered disciples who glorify Christ in all of life.

But before we talk about vision, we need to talk about motivation.

Acts 1 meets us with a far bigger question than, “What do I want this year?”
It asks, What is God doing in the world, and how do His people live in light of that?

We Need Orientation, Not Just Inspiration.

We live in a deeply individualistic culture, where a new year often becomes about personal goals, plans, and progress. Those things aren’t wrong. But Jesus never calls His people to build small, personal kingdoms. He calls us into something far larger.

Before Jesus sends His disciples, He recenters them.

They ask Him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?”
It’s a reasonable question. They’ve seen His power. They’ve watched Him die. They’ve encountered Him risen. Surely now is the moment everything gets fixed.

Jesus responds:
“It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority.”

He doesn’t deny the kingdom.
He redirects their expectations.

In other words, God has a plan.
He is not late.
He is not absent.
He is not confused.

We are obsessed with knowing what’s next because, deep down, we believe certainty equals safety. But Scripture reframes that instinct. What we call delay, God often calls mercy. What feels slow to us is redemption still unfolding.

God never asks us to carry what we don’t have the authority to change.
Many of us live like anxious passengers, gripping imaginary brakes, tense at every curve.

The problem isn’t awareness. It’s pretending we have control we were never given.
Anxiety is what happens when you try to drive from the passenger seat.

A church motivated by God’s glory rests in God’s sovereignty instead of demanding control over God’s timing.

What Is the Glory of God?
The glory of God is easier to recognize than it is to define.

Scripture helps us here. In Isaiah 6:3, the angels cry, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts,” and then say something unexpected: “The whole earth is full of his glory.”

The glory of God is the holiness of God made visible.
Holiness on display. Holiness going public.

God is eternally holy. And when that holiness is revealed in ways His creation can see and savor, the Bible calls that glory.

That matters because God does not renew people, churches, or cities randomly. He renews them for His glory. Renewal is not self-reinvention. It’s Spirit-empowered re-orientation.

When our lives are motivated by God’s glory, we are freed from the exhausting need to control outcomes.

We trust the Father with the times and seasons. We walk forward with confidence, not because we know the future, but because we know the One who holds it.
Before we are ever moved into mission, we must be motivated by glory.

In 1947, a Bedouin shepherd was herding sheep near the Dead Sea when one wandered into a dark cave. Curious, he did what teenage boys have done for thousands of years. He picked up a rock and threw it into the darkness.

Instead of a dull thud, he heard something shatter.

What looked insignificant turned out to be one of the greatest archaeological discoveries in history. Inside ordinary clay pots were the Dead Sea Scrolls, ancient Scriptures preserved for centuries. God used a broken pot to reveal eternal truth.

That story sets the tone for how God often works.

When God wants to reveal something eternal, He frequently hides it inside something fragile.

This is exactly what Isaiah points us to when he calls the coming Messiah “Mighty God” in Isaiah 9:6. When we hear that name, we naturally imagine strength, dominance, authority. We expect power to arrive loud, fast, and overwhelming.

But Isaiah’s vision refuses to play by our definitions.

The Mighty God does not arrive with a clenched fist. He comes as a child. Vulnerable. Dependent. Weak. And if you follow that story all the way to the cross, you see that His path of strength runs straight through suffering.

This is not a contradiction. It is the revelation.

Jesus is our Mighty God, whose strength comes through weakness.

God’s strength is not displayed by avoiding weakness, but by entering it. The incarnation teaches us that God reveals His power on His terms, not ours. We do not get to choose what God redeems or what He uses to shape us. We can resist what is out of our control, or we can learn to trust that God is working through it.

In many ways, we are like those clay pots.

On our own, we are ordinary. Cracked. Fragile. Yet inside us lives the greatest treasure imaginable. God’s Spirit has made us alive. His Word has taken residence in our hearts. Still, most days we feel more like broken containers than vessels of glory.

That is often because our focus drifts.

We fix our eyes on what is still wrong with us instead of what God has placed within us. And what you fix your eyes on you naturally become.

When we our focus is on our weakness, that becomes our identity.

But Scripture tells a different story. Weakness is not your disqualification. It is the stage God uses to display His power.

Dave Harvey puts it this way, “God breaks the pot to free the power.”

The apostle Paul captured this truth when he wrote, “I carry death, so that the life of Christ may be manifested in me.” The suffering we endure, the limitations we cannot escape, and the circumstances we did not choose are not obstacles to God’s power. They are often the very means by which the life of Christ becomes visible.

This is why the image of Kintsugi is so compelling. In this Japanese art form, broken pottery is repaired with gold. The cracks are not hidden. They are highlighted. What once looked ruined now tells a story of restoration.

That is how Jesus, our Mighty God, works in us. He does not avoid brokenness. He enters it. And through it, He reveals a strength the world has never known.

Jesus does not ask you to be unbroken. He invites you to bring what is broken to Him.
You may feel like a cracked pot. But inside you lives resurrection power.

Jesus is our Mighty God, whose strength comes through weakness.

And that is not just theology.
That is hope.

Christmas has a way of holding joy and ache in the same breath. Laughter fills the room, yet someone’s absence is louder than the music. Gratitude rises, but grief lingers close behind. That tension is exactly the kind of moment Isaiah speaks into when he declares that the promised child will be called Everlasting Father.

Isaiah is not addressing people who have life neatly figured out. He speaks to a people living in fear, chaos, and uncertainty, asking the same questions we ask today: Is God paying attention? Has He forgotten us? And God’s answer is not an idea or a program. It’s a Person.

We live moment to moment. We interpret life through what’s most recent or most intense. Hope in the morning. Anxiety by dinner. And before we realize it, we begin to view God the same way. When prayers are answered, we trust Him. When He feels silent, we wonder if He’s distant. But Scripture reminds us that just because God feels quiet does not mean He has stopped working. If God is faithful in eternity, He is faithful in your moment.

Jesus went before us to secure our eternity, so we would never face the temporary alone.

That’s why Isaiah’s language matters. “Everlasting” doesn’t mean Jesus simply lasts a long time. It means He is the source of eternity itself. And calling Him “Father” tells us how He rules. Not with distance or domination, but with care, presence, and affection.

Jesus shows us what this looks like in Luke 15. As religious leaders complain that He eats with sinners, Jesus reveals the heart of the Father through the story of a lost son. The younger son runs far from home, chasing freedom, only to find emptiness. When he finally returns, rehearsing his apology, the father runs to meet him. No punishment first. No lecture. Just compassion, embrace, and restoration.

That is the Everlasting Father. A Father who never stops looking. A Father whose mercy doesn’t expire. A Father who would rather lose dignity than lose His child.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He introduces the older son, who stayed close to the house yet far from the Father’s heart. He obeyed, served, and kept score. And still, he missed joy. Both sons were lost. One through rebellion, the other through religion. And the Father went out to both.

This is the invitation of Christmas. Not just to come home from obvious sin, but to come home from striving, earning, and proving. To stop trusting temporary saviors like control, approval, or success. And to rest in the lasting love of the Everlasting Father.

Because Jesus has secured our eternity, we can trust the Everlasting Father in the temporary. Whatever season you’re walking through, His hold does not loosen. His presence does not fade. And His invitation still stands:

Come home.

“For a child will be born for us, a son will be given to us… and He will be named Wonderful Counselor.”
— Isaiah 9:6

This Advent, we’ve been slowing down to look not just at a moment in a manger, but at a promise spoken centuries earlier. Isaiah wrote to a people overwhelmed by fear, political chaos, spiritual confusion, and failed leadership. Sound familiar? Into that darkness, God did not promise better systems or improved circumstances. He promised a Person.

Before Christmas is about a baby, it’s about God. Scripture reveals one God in three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God is love, and love requires relationship. God did not create because He was lonely, nor did He save because He was lacking. Creation and redemption are the overflow of His eternal love. Christmas is where that love steps into time.

Isaiah tells us, “For a child will be born for us, a son will be given to us.” A child born means Jesus is fully human, entering real pain, weakness, and suffering. A son given means He is fully divine, sent by the Father, carrying the authority of God Himself. Christmas is not sentimental poetry. It is God stepping into history.

The name Wonderful Counselor reveals the kind of Savior Jesus is. “Wonderful” comes from the Hebrew peleʾ— miraculous, supernatural, beyond human ability. This is not advice gathered through experience. It is divine wisdom. And “Counselor” means royal advisor—one who speaks with kingly authority. Jesus doesn’t merely help us see life more clearly. He has the power to transform it.

And here is the heart of it: Jesus didn’t send wisdom from a distance. He came close. Wisdom in Scripture isn’t something we master, it’s Someone we follow.

There are moments when control disappears, when answers are scarce and fear fills the room. In one of those seasons for me, it felt as if Jesus gently took me on a tour of His world and said, “Consider the birds. Consider the livestock. Consider the moon and the stars.” Everything was being cared for. In that moment, the Wonderful Counselor didn’t offer explanations. He offered His presence, quietly reminding me that if God holds all of creation together, He has not lost hold of us.

Jesus still speaks today through the Holy Spirit, who is illuminating Scripture, exposing lies, comforting our hearts, and redirecting us when we wander. When conviction rises, when clarity breaks through confusion, when peace settles in your soul, that is the Counselor at work.

And the Wonderful Counselor doesn’t just guide us; He holds us. Perseverance is not something we achieve, it’s something God supplies. Our hope is not found in how tightly we cling to Him, but in how firmly He is holding us. 

So today, you don’t have to figure everything out. You don’t have to manufacture wisdom or force clarity. Jesus didn’t shout His counsel from a distance. He came close—and He will never leave.

Prayer:
Heavenly Father, we confess that we often trust voices other than Yours. Forgive us, and by Your grace, guide us in Your truth. 
Amen.

Every December, even people who don’t think much about God find themselves humming the old refrain: “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.” We print it on cards, hang it on walls, and sing it by candlelight. But beneath that familiar line, the honest question rises:
Where is the peace?

We live in an age fluent in the language of mental health. Anxiety is an everyday word. We’ve never had more access to therapy, information, or tools for self-care—and yet so many feel overwhelmed, restless, or quietly wondering whether their lives matter. Stories of teenagers wrestling with suicidal thoughts are no longer rare. Marriages strain. Communities fracture. Hearts crack under pressure.

Isaiah understood this world. He wrote to people facing political instability, spiritual confusion, and economic uncertainty, people living in what he called “thick darkness.”

Into that darkness God made a shocking promise:
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light…
For to us a child is born… and His name shall be called… Prince of Peace.”
— Isaiah 9:2, 6

Peace has a Name. Peace is a Person. Peace is a King. Jesus is our Prince of Peace.

The Peace We Cannot Produce

Every human attempt at peace eventually collapses. Ancient Rome had the Pax Romana—two hundred years of unprecedented stability. But even the best human peace is temporary. Scripture tells us why: sin shattered God’s original design of shalom—wholeness with God, with one another, and with creation itself.

The evidence is all around us. Rising suicide rates. Deepening anxiety among Gen Z. Fractured relationships and fragile identities. Human effort can restrain chaos, but it cannot restore shalom.

That’s why God didn’t send a strategy, He sent a Son. A Child with a crown. A King strong enough to carry a government we could never hold.

The Prince Who Brings Real Peace

In Hebrew, shalom is not calm vibes or quiet circumstances. It means flourishing—everything made right again. Isaiah announces a peace not dependent on our faithfulness, but on His:

“Of the increase of His government and of peace there will be no end.”
— Isaiah 9:7

Unlike every earthly kingdom, Jesus’ reign never stops spreading. His peace isn’t fragile or seasonal. It doesn’t ebb when life gets hard. If His government increases, His peace increases, even when we can't feel it.

Modern people often try to manufacture peace through control, achievement, therapy, or politics. Those things may adjust circumstances, but none of them can heal the soul.

Peace isn’t something we build, it’s Someone we receive.

And the peace Jesus brings is not passive, it fights. The Prince of Peace conquers the enemies that create chaos: sin, death, darkness, and spiritual oppression. Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of a King who stands with you even in the fire (Dan. 3:25).

The Pathway Into Peace

Where Jesus reigns, peace remains. Where we cling to control, peace evaporates. Scripture shows a consistent pattern: peace comes after surrender. Abraham surrendered Isaac. Mary surrendered her reputation. Jesus surrendered His will, and peace followed.
So where do you need to stop controlling and start receiving?

This Advent, the Prince of Peace steps into our darkness and offers Himself, not advice, not a technique. Himself. And wherever He is welcomed as King, shalom begins again.

Jesus is the Light who enters our darkness, heals what’s most damaged, and restores our hope.

Every December, there’s a moment that stops me in my tracks. I step outside into the cold night air, look up, and suddenly the sky is crystal clear, no haze, no fog, just a black canvas pierced with a billion stars. Some of the light we see is ancient, older than nations, older than the pyramids, still cutting through the darkness.

And every time I look up, I feel what Isaiah describes: the tension between the darkness around us and the hope God promises. Because the truth is, life gets dark. Headlines stay dark. Our own stories can drift into disappointment, unanswered prayers, loneliness, confusion, and the consequences of brokenness. Isaiah calls it “deep darkness.”

But woven into that darkness is a truth Christmas refuses to let us ignore:
Light breaks through.

And the Light has a name, Jesus. 

Advent = When Our Need Meets God’s Rescue

This is why we celebrate Advent, this season where our deep need meets God’s rescuing grace. Advent slows us down, awakens our awe, and reminds us that the Savior who came is the Savior who is coming again. Scripture marks His arrival with one sign: Light breaking into darkness.

Think of Luke 2: shepherds in a cold, silent field when suddenly the glory of the Lord explodes into the night sky. Or the wise men, guided by a star across the desert. But this theme begins long before Bethlehem. Seven hundred years earlier, God gave His people a promise through Isaiah:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” (Isaiah 9:2)

Before the manger, before the angels, God’s people were living under oppression and spiritual drought, wondering, “Is God still going to keep His promises?” Into that world,

Isaiah speaks a word strong enough to cut through despair:

Nevertheless.
In spite of the darkness.
Against all odds.
Light is coming.

Jesus Enters the Darkness We Cannot Fix

Isaiah 8 ends with a devastating picture: people looking up and cursing God, then looking out and seeing only distress and gloom. Without God, humanity is trapped in a darkness that’s moral, emotional, spiritual, and eternal.

But Isaiah’s next words change everything:
“Nevertheless… there will be no more gloom.”

God Himself steps in.

Jesus Heals What’s Most Damaged

Isaiah names regions like Zebulun and Naphtali, places first crushed, most compromised, spiritually overlooked. And God says, “My light will rise there first.”

The forgotten places become the first places Jesus begins His ministry.

That’s how God works.
Where we feel small, unqualified, or overlooked, those are often the exact places where God plants His brightest light.
Jesus Restores Our Hope

Isaiah piles up a stunning list of what the Light brings:

• Joy: “You have increased its joy…”
• Victory: “As when dividing the spoil…”
• Freedom: “You have broken the yoke…”
• Peace: “Prince of Peace…”
• A King: “To us a child is born…”
• A Kingdom: “Of His peace there will be no end…”

This isn’t sentimental glow. In Scripture, light is God’s holy, saving presence. When Jesus says, “I am the light of the world,” He isn’t offering inspiration, He’s offering transformation.

The Light doesn’t just reveal our sin.
He removes it.
He enters the darkness and defeats it from within.
The Light Has Come, and Is Coming Again

The story ends with a world where there is no sun or moon because God Himself is the Light (Rev. 21). Until that day, we shine where He places us—for the good of our city and the glory of Jesus.

The Light has come.
And the Light is coming again.

Until then, we carry His flame into a world desperate to see Him.

We live in a world filled with noise. Our phones buzz, opinions fly, distractions multiply, and our attention gets pulled in countless directions. Most of us walk around with spiritual noise canceling turned off. We scroll, react, compare, consume, and then wonder why God’s voice feels faint.

James reminds us that God’s Word is not background noise. It is not an app we occasionally check. It is a seed God plants. It is alive, active, and able to form wholeness in a divided heart. That is the heart behind our series in James, Wholehearted: Living Whole in a Divided World. We are learning to quiet the voices that divide us and tune in to the God who makes us whole from his wholeness.

When someone becomes a Christian, God does not simply give them new information. He gives them a new heart. Jeremiah 31:33 says that God writes His law on our hearts. His Word is implanted in us.

James shows us how to respond wholeheartedly to God’s Word. That doing is hearing. 

Receive the Word with Readiness and Repentance
James begins with posture. “Be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” Before the Word can change us, it must first be welcomed with humility. That means listening before defending, slowing down before reacting, and removing the inner clutter that keeps God’s truth from settling deep within.

Repentance is not earning God’s favor. Repentance is creating space for His Word to grow.

Submit to the Word with Surrender
James warns about becoming people who hear truth without living it. It is possible to attend church, take notes, enjoy the teaching, and still remain unchanged. God’s Word is not given for admiration. It is given for obedience. It is meant to shape how we speak, respond, forgive, love, and live.

Spiritual wholeness grows when hearing and doing unite.

Abide in the Word with Perseverance
James describes the whole disciple as someone who looks intently into the Word and perseveres. Real growth is rarely sudden. It is steady, cumulative, and often hidden. A seed does not break the soil the day it is planted. It rests. It roots. It strengthens before it becomes visible.

In the same way, the Spirit forms Christlike character in us through repeated exposure to God’s Word and repeated surrender to God’s will.

The Word That Works in You
James says, “Receive with meekness the implanted word which is able to save your souls.” The same Word that brought you to Christ is the Word that continues to shape you into His likeness. And the cross is the place where we hear that Word most clearly. If God feels distant, return to the cross. If you are not a Christian, begin at the cross. Shame and guilt cannot lead you to obedience, but grace can.

Wholehearted disciples are not only hearers of the Word. They are people who let the Word take root and bear fruit.

Receive it.
Submit to it.
Abide in it.

And watch the implanted Word come alive in you.

As we walk through the book of James, we’re asking:
What does a whole, undivided life of faith look like in a divided world?

The second of James chapter 1 asks the question: What’s the difference between a trial and a temptation and how can both either form or break our faith?

In Greek, James uses one word for both: peirasmos.

In 1 Corinthians 10:13, it means temptation:
“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to man…”

In James 1:2, it means trial:
“Count it all joy, my brothers and sisters, when you meet trials of various kinds…”

Same word — two meanings.

Why? Because James wants us to see that the same situation that tests your faith can also tempt your heart.

It can mean trial or temptation, depending on the context.

A trial happens to you. A temptation happens in you.

If we’re not careful, what tests us on the outside can tempt us on the inside.
God uses trials to grow us.

Satan twists them to destroy us.

The same fire that purifies gold melts wax—the difference isn’t the fire; it’s the substance.

1. God Uses Trials to Build Faith; Satan Uses Them to Bait Your Heart
“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God.’” – James 1:13

The pressure of life doesn’t create what’s in you—it exposes it.

James contrasts the rich and poor to show that hardship reveals where our roots are: in what fades or in what endures.

Many of us feel the Bay Area heat—the pressure to perform, to provide, to stay afloat.

But what if that pressure isn’t meant to push you harder, but to purify you deeper?

God allows fire to refine your faith, not to ruin it.

So when the pressure rises, ask:
“What is this revealing about what I believe about God?”

Anchor your confidence not in what you have, but in who has you.

2. Expose the Lie Before It Becomes Your Life
“Each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire.” – James 1:14

Temptation always begins as a lie before it becomes an action.

Desire conceives → Sin is born → Death follows.

The oldest lie is still the same:
“God isn’t good, and you’ll be happier apart from Him.”

Temptation is spiritual clickbait—it promises satisfaction but installs malware in your soul.
You don’t fight temptation with willpower; you fight it with awe.

When your heart is captivated by Jesus, sin loses its pull.

As Paul Tripp says, “Only when awe of God rules your heart will you keep the pleasures of the material world in their proper place.”

When temptation knocks, don’t perform, pray.

When you’re surrounded, like Jehoshaphat in 2 Chronicles 20, seek the Lord and remember: “The battle is not yours, but God’s.”

3. The Enemy Counterfeits God’s Goodness, but God Never Changes
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow.” – James 1:17

Satan can’t create; he can only counterfeit.

Sex without covenant. Ambition without humility. Rest without dependence. Every temptation is a distortion of something good meant to lead us back to the Giver.

The root of temptation is doubting God’s goodness; the remedy is remembering it.

God doesn’t change. He doesn’t give fragments of Himself. He gives Himself, fully, freely, and faithfully.

If you’re not yet a follower of Jesus, this is the invitation:
You don’t climb up to God, He’s already come down to you in Christ.
You don’t overcome temptation by being stronger, but by being surrendered.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Cor 12:9

When Temptation Knocks
When temptation whispers, “God’s not good,”
look to the cross—that’s how far His goodness went.
When it says, “You can’t change,”
look to the empty tomb—that’s where new life began.
When it says, “You’ve gone too far,”
remember—grace always goes farther.

You’re not alone. You’re not beyond mercy.
And you’re not without a way of escape.
His name is Jesus.

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial,
for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life,
which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.”
— James 1:12

1 James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ,
To the twelve tribes in the Dispersion: Greetings.
2 Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds,
3 for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.
4 And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
5 If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.
6 But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.
7 For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord;
8 he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.
9 Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation,
10 and the rich in his humiliation, because like a flower of the grass he will pass away.
11 For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. So also will the rich man fade away in the midst of his pursuits.
12 Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

We live in a world divided at every level—politically, morally, relationally, even spiritually. Every scroll through the news or swipe on social media reminds us: we’re a fractured people. But James, the brother of Jesus, reminds us that the deeper divide isn’t “out there” in the world, it’s inside our hearts.

If we’re honest, many of us try to live with one foot in the world and one in the kingdom. We want the peace of Jesus, but we also want control. We want to trust God, but we don’t want to release our grip on comfort or certainty. It’s like that tree planted right on the border of Utah and Wyoming, its trunk stands in both states, but it can only draw life from one soil. So can we. Eventually, one root system will win.

James writes to believers scattered and suffering—people pushed out of their homes, uncertain of what’s next. He doesn’t begin his letter with pity but with purpose:

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds,
for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” (James 1:2–3)

Trials, James says, aren’t interruptions to your spiritual life; they are your spiritual life. They reveal where your faith truly draws strength. God isn’t out to destroy you through difficulty, He’s forming you through it.

C. S. Lewis once wrote, “You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage; but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” 

That’s what God is doing through your pain—He’s remaking you into His dwelling place.

So how do we respond when the storm hits? James gives us three invitations.

1. Reframe the Trial
Don’t ask, “How can I get out of this?” Ask, “What is God growing in me through this?” Joy isn’t pretending pain doesn’t hurt; it’s perceiving God’s purpose in the middle of it. Wholeness begins in the mind before it’s formed in the heart.

2. Run to the Father
James says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God.” When life feels confusing, run toward your Father, not away from Him. He gives generously and without reproach. He’s not annoyed by your questions—He’s near in your weakness. From His wholeness, He makes us whole.

3. Root Your Identity
“Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation, and the rich in his humiliation.” Whether you have plenty or little, both are invitations to boast in grace, not gain. Our identity isn’t built on possessions or circumstances but on a person and work of Jesus Christ.

David Gibson writes:
“James doesn’t tell us to stop boasting; he tells us to boast in the right things — to let our confidence, our sense of worth, be rooted not in ourselves but in what Christ has done.”

His work of redemption is our reason to boast. 

Here's the big idea: Wholeness is forged in trials, formed through trust, and found in Christ alone. 

The same God who began His work in you will finish it. So stay steadfast. Stay surrendered. Because the One who is whole has given Himself wholly to you. And when He is your soil, your roots will never fail.

Galatians 6:1–10; Hosea 10:12–13; Mark 4:20

When the gospel is what we sow, holiness is the harvest.

A Kingdom Law Hidden in Plain Sight

Every farmer knows this: you can’t plant weeds and expect wheat. You can’t sow carelessness and expect fruit. That’s not pessimism—it’s the built-in order of God’s world.
Paul calls it the law of sowing and reaping (Gal. 6:7–10). It’s a simple law with cosmic implications. It governs not only the fields of Galatia but the field of every human heart.

And it raises a sobering question:
What kind of seeds are you sowing right now?

This question sits at the heart of our Multiply Together initiative—a three-year vision to see God multiply gospel-centered disciples across Livermore and beyond.

We’re praying for:

• More disciples being discipled.
• More people equipped to lead and serve.
• More people reached with the hope of Jesus.

But that vision won’t happen by wishful thinking. The harvest tomorrow depends on what we plant today.

Intentions don’t determine direction, habits do.

The habits you cultivate today are quietly steering your tomorrow.

1. The Law of Sowing and Reaping
Paul writes: “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” (Gal. 6:7)

In Greek, mē planāsthe—“Don’t wander off course.” It’s where we get our word planet, a “wandering star.”

Paul’s warning is this: Don’t drift like a wandering start in the universe.

Don’t let your emotions rewrite the fixed realities of God’s truth. Our emotions are real but not reliable. God’s Word is.

Hosea echoes the same truth:
“Sow for yourselves righteousness; reap steadfast love… You have plowed iniquity; you have reaped injustice.” (Hos. 10:12–13)

There are two fields that reap two harvests.
You either sow righteousness and reap steadfast love or sow self-reliance and reap emptiness.

This isn’t karma. It’s the gracious order God has written into creation, a moral gravity that pulls toward holiness or decay depending on what you plant.

The Reformers often called this the “moral structure of creation.” God’s providence doesn’t only govern the stars, it governs the soil. Gravity pulls, fire burns, and sin still kills.

You can’t mock God’s world and expect to escape its design. 

2. Sowing Is Slow, but It’s Worth It
“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” (Gal. 6:9)

Paul isn’t talking about productivity; he’s talking about people. Look at verses 1–3:
“Restore the sinner with gentleness. Bear one another’s burdens.”

The field where we sow is the local church.

This is the slow, Spirit-led labor of love—where patience is plowing, gentleness is seed, and faithfulness is fertilizer.

Kevin DeYoung once wrote:
“The Christian life is rarely about revolution; it’s about plodding. We need fewer revolutionaries and more plodding visionaries—people content to do small things for a long time.”

Faithfulness is not flashy. In a world of instant results, God’s kingdom grows through slow obedience.

Legalism promises speed but it’s a shortcut spirituality that measures growth by appearance.

But Paul calls that “boasting in the flesh.” It’s planting pride and expecting holiness.

Grace removes guilt, not consequences. You may be forgiven, but seeds sown to the flesh still bear bitter fruit. Yet grace means you can start sowing differently today.

Patient sowing grows from trust, and shows itself in serving.

Don’t overthink it, just plant something small and faithful. God loves to multiply plodding obedience. Who can you serve this week?

3. Sowing Generously
“Let the one who is taught the word share all good things with the one who teaches.” (Gal. 6:6)

Generosity isn’t God collecting dues, it’s God multiplying grace.

When you give, serve, or love in faith, you’re planting seeds that grow into joy, contentment, and eternal fruit.

Paul’s logic in 2 Corinthians 9 is this: God is both the supplier and the multiplier of the seed.

Everything begins and ends with grace. God gives the seed, God provides the rain, and God brings the increase. That means generosity is never loss, it’s worship.

Even Israel’s agrarian laws embodied this:
“When you reap your harvest, do not reap to the edges of your field. Leave them for the poor.” (Lev. 23:22)

In other words, don’t harvest to the max. Leave margin for mercy.

That’s kingdom economics—open hands because everything belongs to Him.

J.D. Greear calls this God Math:
“Ninety percent with God’s blessing goes further than a hundred percent without it.”

Money is a seed. It looks small and ordinary, but when surrendered, God grows fruit that looks nothing like the seed itself.

When you plant generosity, you reap contentment.
When you plant grace, you reap gratitude.
When you plant faith, you reap freedom.

The happiest people aren’t those with the most, they’re those who give the most away.

In the Old Testament, God built generosity into Israel’s everyday life.

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, nor shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the LORD your God.” — Leviticus 19:9–10; 23:22

God told His people to leave a portion of their fields unharvested, to resist the urge to consume everything for themselves.

But the temptation was always to cut to the very edges, to maximize profit and minimize dependence.

It was a test of trust: Would they believe that God could do more with less?
Leave an “edge of your field.”

Budget margin—time, money, and energy—to bless others.

Generosity doesn’t begin when you have more; it begins when you trust God with what you already have.

When you leave space for others, you’re declaring, “This field, and everything in it, belongs to the Lord.”

4. Sowing Wisely
“The one who sows to his flesh will reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will reap eternal life.” (Gal. 6:8)

There are only two fields: the flesh or the Spirit. One promises control; the other produces life.

The word corruption (phthora) means decay—like fruit left on the counter too long.
Sin is deceptive that way. What starts as pleasure ends as rot.

You think you can manage it, but sin always metastasizes.

But the reverse is gloriously true: sow to the Spirit, and God grows holiness.

That’s sanctification, the Spirit cultivating new affections, new habits, new loves.

This is progressive sanctification: grace that not only forgives but transforms. Holiness becomes not just possible, but desirable.

So how do we do this? Feed what you want to grow. Immerse yourself in the Word, surround yourself with gospel community, and watch how holiness becomes normal.

5. Sowing Spiritually
You can’t sow to the Spirit until the flesh is cut away.

Paul ends Galatians where he began—with the cross.
“Far be it from me to boast except in the cross… For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but a new creation.” (Gal. 6:14–15)

In Colossians 2:11, he explains:
“In Him you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands.”

True holiness begins with a cut, the Spirit cutting away the old nature, crucifying the flesh.
Isaiah foretold it: “He was cut off for the transgressions of my people.” (Isa. 53:8)

Jesus was cut off so you could be brought in.

The gospel pattern is always:
Cut off → Buried → Raised.

Christ was sown into the ground, and the resurrection was the harvest.

The cross is both seed and soil for a new creation life.

6. The Gospel Reframing
If the story ended with “you reap what you sow,” we’d all be doomed. Every one of us has sown pride, selfishness, and sin. Our fields are filled with thorns.

But God.

God sent His Son into the field of our sin.

Jesus took the seeds of our corruption and buried them in the soil of His cross.
And three days later, He rose with a harvest of eternal life.

Now, when you plant in faith, you’re not sowing to your flesh—you’re sowing into resurrection ground.

The tomb is empty, and the harvest has already begun.

“Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy.” (Psalm 126:5)
So don’t give up. Don’t drift.

Keep sowing the gospel into your relationships, your work, your finances, your city—because the ground is His and the harvest belongs to Him.

A Final Invitation to Sow for a Harvest of Holiness. 

Write down two lines today:

1. Name one habit that feeds the flesh—and stop it.
2. Name one habit that feeds the Spirit—and start it.

Because Jesus already sowed Himself for you and the tomb is empty.
The seed is in the ground, but the story isn’t over.
“When the gospel is what you sow, holiness is the harvest.”

16 Passing alongside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew the brother of Simon casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen.
17 And Jesus said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.”
18 And immediately they left their nets and followed him.
19 And going on a little farther, he saw James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, who were in their boat mending the nets.
20 And immediately he called them, and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired servants and followed him.

Discipleship begins with a response — Jesus calls, and we follow and are made.

The Call — “Follow Me”

Jesus said, “Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.”
(Mark 1:17)

When Jesus walked along the Sea of Galilee, He didn’t call these men to a religion, an idea, or a self-improvement plan. He called them to Himself.

Christianity is not first about moral behavior, it’s about personal devotion to Jesus.

Notice the immediacy: “Immediately they left their nets and followed Him.” They didn’t have all the answers. They didn’t know the details. But they knew the Caller was worthy of their trust.

In a world that prizes affiliation over devotion, being “around” Jesus rather than following Him, this call is confrontational. It cuts through our tendency to do “Christian things” without truly walking with Christ.

Reflection: Am I following Jesus today, or just doing things about Jesus?

The Commission — “I Will Make You Become Fishers of Men”

Jesus connects relationship with responsibility. Following Him always leads to joining His mission.

Charles Spurgeon once said,
“The work of soul-winning is the grandest work that can be entrusted to human beings. He that is called by Christ must be made into a fisher of men, and if he is not a soul-winner, he is not following in the steps of Jesus.”

Notice the phrasing, Jesus doesn’t say, “I will make you.” He says, “I will make you become.”

That’s a promise of process, not performance. Mission is not something we master overnight; it’s something Christ forms in us over time. We don’t start ready, we’re shaped as we follow.

Fishing is a fitting metaphor: it requires patience, persistence, and proximity. You can’t catch fish from the shore; you have to go where they are. And just like fish, people often resist being “caught,” but the gospel rescues them into something far better, life with God.

Evangelism isn’t flashy. It’s slow, relational, and Spirit-dependent. Kingdom growth happens one life at a time.

It’s been said: “Jesus doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called.”

The Cost — “They Left Their Nets… They Left Their Father”

Their nets represented livelihood. Their father represented identity and security. Following Jesus reorders every allegiance.

Not career first.
Not family first.
Not comfort first.
Christ first.

This doesn’t mean abandoning responsibility; it means everything now finds its purpose under His lordship.

The call to follow Jesus always confronts our idols — comfort, success, control. The disciples’ response was immediate because they recognized the worth of the One who called them.

Whatever previously came first is now a distant second.

The Challenge — Following and Serving Always Go Together

Some want to follow Jesus without serving Him — to receive grace without joining the mission.

Others serve Jesus without truly following Him — loving the work of the Lord more than the Lord of the work.

True discipleship holds both together: affection and action.

To follow Jesus is to serve Him; to serve Him rightly is to follow Him closely.

Jesus told His disciples, “Rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20).

Ministry is never our identity — being known and loved by Jesus is.

We don’t work for Jesus to earn His love — we work from His love to make Him known.

The Bottom Line
Discipleship is a response.

It starts with hearing the call of Jesus, leads to becoming like Jesus, costs us our former priorities, and continues through loving service to Jesus.
Mission creates community.

For too long, the Western church has reversed that order — assuming if we just gather people, we’ll join in God’s mission. But the gospel gives us a different picture.
Jesus’ first call is to follow Him (salvation).

His immediate purpose is mission (making more disciples).
And through mission, community forms.

When the Spirit filled the early believers in Acts, multiplication followed — disciples were being made, the gospel was being proclaimed, and people were growing in faith.

As we follow Jesus and obey His command to make disciples, God Himself builds the community around us.

The Things of the Spirit and the Mindset of the Believer

Romans 8:5–9
“For those who are according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who are according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. For the mind set on the flesh is death, but the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace, because the mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God. However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. But if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Him.”

The Power of Mindset

In nearly every corner of culture today, the word mindset is a buzzword. Leadership and business circles talk about a “growth mindset.” Psychologists encourage avoiding a “fixed mindset.” Gary Klein, Ph.D., in Psychology Today, defines mindset like this: A mindset is a belief that orients the way we handle situations—the way we sort out what is going on and what we should do. Our mindsets help us spot opportunities, but they can also trap us in self-defeating cycles.

There is truth here, and we can learn from it. Yet much of pop psychology and leadership literature shares one flaw: it tries to chart a path toward a fruitful life while leaving out the spiritual life. Most articles won’t even mention transcendence or the reality that we are spiritual beings. Western culture, in particular, resists the truth that we are first and foremost spiritual.

The Contrast Paul Draws

This is why Paul warns us: if we set our minds on the flesh, on things that point back to us and feed our obsession with individualism, then the fruit of that life will be all about us. But if our minds are set on the Spirit and the things of the Spirit, the fruit of our lives will point to Christ.

So, what are the things of the Spirit we should fix our minds on?

The Things of the Spirit

Regeneration / New Life
Titus 3:5–7; John 3:5–6
The Spirit gives new birth to believers, described as the “washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit.”

Sanctification / Transformation
2 Corinthians 3:18; Ephesians 4:22–24; Galatians 5:16–25
The Spirit empowers us to put off the flesh and be transformed into holiness.

Fruit of the Spirit
Galatians 5:22–23
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Gifts of the Spirit
1 Corinthians 12; Romans 12; Ephesians 4
The Spirit gives gracious gifts for the building up of the church—both speaking and serving gifts.

Sealing / Guarantee
Ephesians 1:13–14
The Spirit seals believers and guarantees our future inheritance.

Testimony / Witness to Christ
John 15:26; Romans 8:16
The Spirit bears witness to Christ and assures us of adoption as God’s children.

Walking / Being Filled with the Spirit
Galatians 5:16, 25; Ephesians 5:18
Walking by the Spirit means living under His control, putting off the works of the flesh, and being led by His wisdom.

A Call to Re-Align Our Minds
In short, the “things of the Spirit” are the manifold ways God works in us, points us to Christ, and builds up His church for God’s glory and the good of His people.

What if you set your mind this week on these things? Ask yourself: Am I producing the fruit of the Spirit? Do I desire to read God’s Word? A desire to read Scripture is a desire to know Jesus, because the Spirit Himself breathed life into the words of Scripture.

One of our core team members offered a helpful picture: “A misaligned car will always pull in one direction.” What direction is your life pulling? Our lives typically follow the track of our strongest thoughts and desires. When my mind is set on transformation and sanctification, I become far more aware of how I treat others, and far more conscious of how my choices affect the people around me and honor Christ.

Let us then fix our minds on the Spirit, so that our lives pull in the direction of Christ.

How Can I Live a Spirit-Led Life?
Galatians 5:16–24; John 15:5–7

Every family has values. Values define who we are, what we believe, and most importantly, who we show ourselves to be. In our home, we have the first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism framed above our table:

“What is the chief end of man?”
Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

That’s the heart of it, isn’t it? To live for God’s glory and to experience the joy of knowing Him.

In Galatians 5, Paul tells us what our lives should be known for—the fruit of the Spirit. But this raises the question:

How do I actually live a Spirit-led life?

The Spirit Dwells Within Us

In the Old Testament, the Spirit of God would come upon people for a time, but He did not permanently dwell within them. The language used is that the Spirit “rushed upon” or “rested on” a person—and often departed because of sin.

But the prophets foresaw a day when this would change. Ezekiel 36:26–27 declares:
“I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.”

This promise is fulfilled in Christ. By His death and resurrection, Jesus secures for us the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Now the Spirit does not rest on us—He lives in us. That’s not just a religious phrase. It’s the very heart of the Christian life.

R.C. Sproul once wrote:
“The primary meaning of the leading of the Holy Spirit is not to lead us to who to marry, or what job we should take, or what city we should live in, but the primary leading of the Holy Spirit is the leading to holiness. This is the will of God the Scriptures say, even your sanctification.”

Walking by the Spirit is about being led into holiness.

Don’t Feed the Flesh (Galatians 5:16–18)

Paul puts it plainly:
“But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.”

There are two powers at war in us, the Spirit and the flesh. The flesh represents our sinful nature inherited from Adam, promising freedom but delivering bondage. The Spirit alone produces true freedom in Christ.

Desire always precedes direction. What you most long for will shape your walk. If your appetite is for the flesh, your life will reflect it. If your appetite is for the Spirit, you will bear fruit that endures.

Inspect the Fruit (Galatians 5:19–23)

Paul contrasts the “works of the flesh” with the “fruit of the Spirit.” Notice the difference: works are what we do; fruit is what the Spirit produces in us.

The works of the flesh—sexual immorality, jealousy, envy, divisions—tear down relationships and communities. But the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control—builds them up.

Paul doesn’t say “fruits” but “fruit.” It’s one cluster of Christlike character. You don’t pick and choose which ones to grow. The Spirit produces them all in the believer’s life.

This means fruit isn’t optional; it’s essential. As Tim Keller reminds us: “You’re not saved by fruit, but you’re never saved without it.”

Put Sin to Death (Galatians 5:24)

Paul writes:
“Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”

The Christian life isn’t about managing sin but killing it. To “crucify the flesh” is to put to death sinful desires and not allow them to linger. John Owen put it memorably: “Be killing sin, or it will be killing you.”

Too often we excuse sin with language like, “That’s just my personality,” or “That’s just my weakness.” But Paul doesn’t allow for that. The cross demands finality. The Spirit enables us to crucify what our flesh tries to excuse.

Walk in the Spirit and Lift Up Others (Galatians 5:25–26; John 15:5)

Finally, Paul says:
“If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.”

This isn’t about trying harder—it’s about abiding closer. Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).

Fruitfulness comes not from striving but from abiding in Christ. And that fruit is not just for us, it’s for others. Just as half of the “works of the flesh” are relational, so too the fruit of the Spirit shows up in how we love, serve, and build one another up.

The Spirit doesn’t grow fruit for us to consume selfishly; He grows fruit for us to share. A Spirit-led church is one where outsiders look in and say, “Why are they different?”

Conclusion: The Spirit-Led Life

Living a Spirit-led life means daily inspecting your fruit, crucifying the flesh, and walking in the Spirit in a way that blesses others.

It’s not self-help. It’s not about managing appearances. It’s about being rooted in Christ, indwelt by the Spirit, and bearing fruit for God’s glory and others’ good.

As Paul says in Galatians 5:25:
“If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.”

So the question is this: Are you walking in step with the Spirit, or are you feeding the flesh?

Let’s be a people who walk by the Spirit, abide in Christ, and overflow with fruit that multiplies gospel-centered disciples in our city and beyond.

Galatians 5

In the movie Gladiator, Maximus is told, “You have been freed… but do you know what to do with your freedom?” This a truism for many of us. Do we know what to do with the freedom you have been given in Christ?

That question echoes Paul’s words: “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1).

Freedom in Christ is not vague or abstract. Jesus has freed us from sin’s penalty and power. Many of us though, drift into legalism, as if God’s love must be earned. Others drift into license, as if grace gives us permission to live for ourselves. Both are forms of slavery.

The gospel is better: “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). He met us at our worst, loved us without condition, and now by His Spirit He transforms us into something new.

Freedom is not the absence of restraint but the presence of love—love for God and love for neighbor. True freedom is not the ability to do whatever we want; in fact, that kind of freedom is just another form of slavery to our desires. Real freedom is the ability to choose what we were made for: to delight in God and to love others. It’s choosing what leads to gospel flourishing, not just for you, but for the people around you.

Paul writes: “Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another” (Galatians 5:13). That’s the pace of freedom: walking step by step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:25), bearing fruit that looks like Jesus, love, joy, peace, patience (Galatians 5:22–23).

So today, ask: Am I walking at the Spirit’s pace? Freedom in Christ is not permission to center life on self. It is the blood-bought privilege of centering life on God, loving Him supremely and others sacrificially, that they may see in us the beauty of Christ.

Until Christ Is Formed in You
Galatians 4:12–20

In the 1940s, as WWII raged, Dietrich Bonhoeffer faced a life-altering choice. He could remain safe in America, far from the chaos of Nazi Germany. Everyone urged him to stay. But the more he read the Gospels, the more he knew he couldn’t. Following Jesus meant stepping into the storm, even if it cost him his life. It did. Just weeks before the war ended, Bonhoeffer was executed. His last words? “This is the end—for me, the beginning of life.”

That’s Christianity: when you come to the end of yourself, you step into real life.

You and I may not face Nazi Germany, but every day we face the temptation to choose comfort over calling, safety over surrender, self over Christ. And like the Galatians, we can let politics, ideology, or culture shape us more than Jesus. Paul’s plea still echoes: “My little children, for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (Gal. 4:19).

The Christian life isn’t self-improvement—it’s Christ’s life taking shape in you.

So what does that look like?

Spirit-driven (2 Cor. 3:18): Transformation is not self-engineered but Spirit-empowered. Christ formed in you means daily surrender: “Holy Spirit, lead me; I can’t do this without You.”

Lifelong (Phil. 1:6): God never leaves His work unfinished. Holiness is not a sprint but a lifelong journey of grace. Christ grows in us like an oak—slow, steady, enduring.

Mind-renewing (Rom. 12:2): You are always being discipled, by Jesus or by the culture. Every scroll, headline, and ad shapes your heart. Scripture must be the loudest voice in your life.

Worship-centered (Ps. 73:25–26): What you love most shapes you most. Until Christ becomes your greatest treasure, something else will sit on the throne of your heart.

Community-shaped (Eph. 4:13): You can’t grow in isolation. Gospel formation happens in the soil of the local church. What God does in you is always meant to overflow into others.
Think about a blacksmith shaping iron. The metal doesn’t form itself—it’s softened by fire, struck by the hammer, and molded into strength. In the same way, God uses His Spirit, His Word, trials, and His people to press Christ into our lives.

As Paul Miller says, “This is the pattern of Jesus’ life: going down into death, then up into resurrection. And if the Spirit is united with Christ, it makes sense that the pattern of Jesus’ life would become ours.”

This week, take one intentional step toward that formation.

1. Trade a comfort for a cross—fast from something you run to for escape and fill that space with prayer. 
2. Confess one struggle and encourage a friend. 
3. Plant yourself deeply in a local church.

Because the invitation of Jesus isn’t simply to die—it’s to truly live. The way of the cross leads to resurrection. Christ already carried your sin, conquered the grave, and now lives in you.

The Christian life is not about becoming a better version of yourself. It’s about Christ’s life taking shape in you—until the world no longer sees you, but Jesus in you.

From Spiritual Adolescence to Gospel Maturity
Galatians 3:29–4:10

The other day in the car, I reached for my son’s hand and he quickly swatted mine away—“Dad, I’m good.” He's at the stage where he needs to prove he’s tough, independent. But later that night, after the game, we stepped into a darker, scarier parking lot, and this time it was my son reaching for my hand.

And isn’t that how we live with God? We swat His hand away when life seems fine—but when fear or loss hit, we realize we were never meant to walk without Him.

That’s exactly what Paul is saying to the Galatians: “If you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise” (Gal. 3:29). You’re not a slave. You’re a son. You’re an heir of God’s promises. Until we believe that, we’ll stay stuck in spiritual adolescence.

Paul reminds them: “Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to those that by nature are not gods” (Gal. 4:8). Before Christ, we worshipped “little-g gods”—pleasure, possessions, pride. They promised freedom but only enslaved us deeper.

But then came the miracle: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son… to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal. 4:4–5). Through the cross, God’s wrath was satisfied. Through the Spirit, “God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Gal. 4:6).

That’s the gospel: God isn’t just a Judge declaring you innocent, He’s a Father welcoming you home.

And yet, like the Galatians, we drift. Paul pleads, “How can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more?” (Gal. 4:9). Don’t go back. Don’t live like God never adopted you.

Gospel maturity isn’t about stacking up religious achievements. “So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God” (Gal. 4:7). It’s waking up every day to the depth of God’s grace and living as who you already are in Christ.

At Vintage, we dream of a community living holistically as children of God—no longer like slaves, but fully free, fully alive, and all-in on God’s mission.

Take His hand today. Live as His child.

A PRAYER OF SURRENDER

Who am I, Lord, that I should make any claim on you, or have any part or portion in you, when I am not worthy to lick the dust of your feet?

But since you hold out your mercy to me, and you bid me come, I would be undone to rebel against you in false humility.

So I bow my soul to you. With all possible thankfulness I accept you as my own, and I give myself up to you, my King. You will be sovereign over me, my King and my God. You will be on the throne, and I bow all my strength to you. I will come and worship before your feet. You will be my portion, Lord, and I will rest in you.

You called for my heart. Oh that it were in any way fit for your acceptance! I am unworthy, Lord, everlastingly unworthy to be yours. But since you will have it so, I freely give up my heart to you. Take it; it is yours. Oh that it were better! But Lord, I put it into your hand, who alone can mend it. Mold it after your own heart. Make it as you would have it—humble, heavenly, soft, tender, and flexible. Write your law on it.

Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Enter in triumphantly. Take me up to you forever. I give myself up to you. I come to you as the only way to the Father, as the only Mediator, the means God ordained to bring me to God.

I have destroyed myself, but in you is my help. Save, Lord, or I perish. I come to you with a rope about my neck.

I am worthy to die, and to be damned. Never was the wage more due to the worker than death and hell are due to me.

But I fly to your merits. I trust alone the value and virtue of your sacrifice, knowing that you will always intercede for me.

I submit to your teaching, I choose your government over me. Stand open, everlasting doors, that the King of Glory may come in! Amen.

—Joseph Alleine


YOUR WILL BE DONE

Now speak, Lord, and I will hear. Now call, Lord, and I will answer. Now command me, impose on me what you will, and I will submit.

None but the Lord, none but Christ, no other lord nor lover. I am yours, Lord, your own.

Do with your own, demand of your own, whatever you please.

What will you have me be, Lord, what will you have me do? That is what I will do and be.

No longer what I will, but your will be done. Amen.

—Richard Alleine


I GIVE YOU MYSELF

Spirit of the Most High, the Comforter and Sanctifier of your chosen, come now with all your glory, all your courtly attendants, your fruits and graces.

Let me be the place you live. I give you what is yours already. Here, with the poor widow, I cast my two pennies—my soul and my body—into your treasury. I fully resign them to you, to be sanctified by you, to be your servants.

They will be your patients; cure their disease. They will be your agents; govern every step. I have served the world too long, and I have listened to Satan too long. But now I renounce them all. Now I will be ruled by your dictates and directions, and guided by your counsel.

Blessed Trinity! Glorious unity! I deliver up myself to you. Receive me, write your name on me, and on everything I have. Set your mark on me, on every member of my body, and every part of my soul.

I have chosen your ways and your law. Now I will keep it in my view. By your grace, I resolve to walk in your way. I will be governed by your law. And though I cannot perfectly keep one of your commandments, I will not allow myself to disobey any.

I know my flesh will hang back. But in the power of your grace, I resolve to cleave to you and your holy ways—whatever the cost.

With you I am sure I will never lose. So I will be content with disapproval, difficulties, and hardships. I will deny myself, take up my cross, and follow you.

Lord Jesus, your yoke is easy and your cross is welcome, since it is the way to you. I lay aside all hopes of worldly happiness. I will be content to wait, and come to you. Let me be poor and low, little and despised here—so I may live and reign with you hereafter.

Lord, you have my heart in this agreement, never to be reversed. By grace I will stand in this resolution, where I will live and die. I have sworn that I will keep your righteous judgments. I have freely made my everlasting choice.

Lord Jesus, confirm the contract. Amen.