Tag: Bible

A King Like The Nations

Dale Pollard

A King Like the Nations — The Warning 1 Samuel 8:20

In the First Book of Samuel, the people of Israel approached Samuel with a mighty bold demand— they wanted a king. Their exact words were, “Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles” (1 Samuel 8:20).

Up to that point, Israel was led directly under God through the judges and prophets. But the people craved something a little more familiar. You know the classics— political power, military leadership, and a visible human ruler. God warned them through Samuel that earthly kings would tax them, take their boys to war, and rule over them in ways they’d regret. Still, they insisted.

Israel’s monarchy began with Saul, followed by the famous (mostly awesome) reign of David and then the wisdom of Solomon. After this, things really fall apart. Literally. The kingdom didn’t remain united. After Solomon, the nation split into two rival kingdoms—the Kingdom of Israel and the Kingdom of Judah. Sadly, what follows are even more of the “classics.” Corruption, idolatry, and political struggles would all eventually lead to their downfall.

The rise, division, and fall of Israel’s kings leaves us with this humbling truth— human rulers are flawed and temporary. No king, no government, and no political system can fully deliver the justice and peace that people ultimately long for.

The story of Israel’s kings points to the big need of a perfectly righteous and eternal king. We aren’t going to get that from anybody in the (oval-shaped) office— but heaven? Name a higher seat of power than the one Jesus sits on. We’ve got our perfect King and we can’t forget that. 


Books by the Pollards

A Tiny Spark Snail Mail Club (Kathy Pollard)

Watching A Model Giver

Neal Pollard

There he sat on the pew, then on the floor, then back on the pew again. One of our grandsons and his parents were seated next to us in worship yesterday. After the Lord’s Supper, I watched him. He had some change in the coin pocket of his pants, and I could tell they were meant for the collection plate. He taught me some good lessons about giving in those few moments.

Anticipation. Jude was fingering that money, checking and rechecking to make sure he had his hands on it. I watched him watching for the man who would be handing the tray down the row. His expressive eyes spoke volumes. “Will it ever get here?” “Am I going to miss out on giving?”

Emotion. There was feeling which accompanied this act. You could truly read the joy on his face. When the tray got to him and he suddenly struggled to get everything out of the coin pocket, I witnessed a different emotion. He was visibly disappointed that he didn’t give all of what he intended. Adulation turned to agitation. You could tell this was not a heartless exercise for him.

Conviction. With the aid of his father, he made things right. Within a minute, Dale was carrying Jude back to catch up with the men who had served on the table. However, the collection had already been put into the safe. When Dale explained why they were there, it was explained to them that it was no problem to open it back up so the “young man” could give. In his heart, Jude knew he needed to do this to make right his intentions. He had not accomplished his mission until he gave what he intended.

I was reminded of the children who praised Jesus as He entered Jerusalem in Matthew 21. Jesus quotes Psalm 8 to defend their worship of Him: “Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise for yourself” (21:16; Ps. 8:2). Jude reminded me of some important aspects of giving which the Bible outlines. Giving should be planned and deliberate (1 Cor. 16:1-2; 2 Cor. 9:2). It should involve our best emotions (2 Cor. 9:7). We should not be content to do less than the best we can (2 Cor. 8:3-5; 9:6).

Jude was such a good example to me regarding my own giving. Putting a check into the plate takes a mere moment, but it should be preceded by and participated in with the same exemplary characteristics displayed by that eager toddler. How he must have made God smile. That’s what I want my giving to do!

Books by the Pollards

A Tiny Spark Snail Mail Club (Kathy Pollard)

“Staying Faithful Through The Storm”

Eli Watson

A few years ago, a ship was caught in a violent storm at sea.  Waves crashed over the sides, the wind howled, and the crew fought just to stay afloat.  Passengers were panicking—some crying, others praying—convinced they weren’t going to make it.  But in the middle of all that chaos… there was one little boy.  He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t crying.  He just sat there—completely calm. Someone finally asked him,   “Why aren’t you afraid? Don’t you see what’s happening?”  The boy looked at them and said,  “My dad is the captain… and he’s not worried.”  

The truth is, every one of us will face storms—moments when life feels out of control, when fear creeps in, and when we don’t understand what God is doing.  The real question isn’t if storms will come.  The question is: Will we have faith when they do?

Peter faced this exact moment when his faith was tested (Matthew 14:22–33). In the middle of raging water, Jesus called him out, and Peter stepped onto the water.   But when he shifted his focus to the storm, he began to sink.  Faith doesn’t mean having no fear—  it means stepping out despite fear.  

Most people don’t abandon their faith all at once.  It usually happens slowly—  when discouragement builds, prayers seem unanswered, and doing the right thing feels unnoticed.  So what keeps a Christian faithful when life gets cloudy?  The storm reveals where your focus is.

Paul gives us a powerful example of endurance.  In Acts 27, he was shipwrecked, surrounded by people who had lost hope.  But Paul stayed grounded in faith.  

Galatians 6:9 reminds us:  “Do not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”  Even the faithful get tired.  Doing the right thing can feel unnoticed or unrewarded—but God sees it.  “In due season” means in His timing—not ours.  

And God has never failed to come through.  The problem usually isn’t that we don’t know what’s right—  it’s that we grow impatient or tired of doing it.

Hebrews 12:1–2 gives us two key ideas:  “Run with endurance” —  The Christian life isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon.  Trying to rely on your own strength leads to burnout.  

“Looking to Jesus” —  

Endurance comes from focusing on Christ, not circumstances.  When we rely on ourselves, we run out of strength.  But God never runs out.  Mark 4:35–41 shows another storm.  Jesus was in the boat, asleep, while the disciples panicked.  They woke Him in fear, and He responded:  “Why are you so afraid? How is it that you have no faith?”  

The storm didn’t mean God wasn’t with them—  it meant they were focused on the what instead of the who.  Because when the who is God, the what doesn’t matter.  Storms don’t mean God is absent.  True faith is trusting Him—even when He seems silent.

When storms feel overwhelming, ask yourself three questions:

1. Am I praying like I used to?  

   Am I using the connection I have with the Father, or trying to handle everything alone?

2. Am I serving fully?  

   Am I allowing God to use the gifts He’s given me—or taking them for granted?

3. Am I pursuing holiness with urgency?  

   Am I living like my faith truly matters?

Because most of the time, faith doesn’t fail in a dramatic moment—  

it fades through quiet neglect.

But we can continue with hope.   1 Corinthians 15:58 reminds us that our labor is not in vain.  God sees quiet faithfulness.  He sees your unseen sacrifices.  He sees when you keep going, even when you’re tired.  And He gives strength to those who keep their eyes on Him.  The Christian life isn’t about never getting tired—  it’s about refusing to quit.

(We’re grateful to Eli for a great, heartfelt lesson on staying faithful even in our storms.)

Books by the Pollards

A Tiny Spark Snail Mail Club (Kathy Pollard)

The Mighty Hunter: How Nimrod Became the World’s First Archetype

Brent Pollard

When Cartoons Eclipsed Scripture

There is a particular kind of cultural tragedy that unfolds not with a bang but with a punchline. The name Nimrod—once thunderous with the weight of an ancient empire—has been reduced, in the mouths of millions, to a schoolyard insult. Daffy Duck first deployed the name against Elmer Fudd in 1948, and Bugs Bunny later wielded it against Yosemite Sam in 1951, dripping with the kind of sarcasm only a cartoon rabbit can muster. The joke, of course, depended on the audience knowing that Nimrod was a legendary hunter. But as biblical literacy faded, so did the reference. Today, Merriam-Webster’s primary definition of the word is “idiot” or “jerk.” The irony is almost too painful to bear: a figure God saw fit to name in Holy Scripture has been redefined by a cartoon duck.

This should unsettle us. It is not merely a curiosity of language; it is a symptom of a culture that has lost its moorings in the Word of God. When a generation can no longer recognize the names written by the finger of divine inspiration, something far deeper than vocabulary has been forgotten.

A Mighty Man in the Sight of God

Scripture is sparing but deliberate in what it tells us about Nimrod. He was the grandson of Ham through Cush (Genesis 10.8; 1 Chronicles 1.10), and Genesis 10:9 declares that he was “a mighty hunter before the LORD” (NASB95). That single phrase, “before the LORD,” carries an ambiguity that has occupied commentators for millennia. The Hebrew liphnê YHWH can suggest either divine approval—a man operating in full view of God’s favor—or divine confrontation —a man who sets himself up against the Lord. Augustine of Hippo noted that the Septuagint rendering left room for the darker reading. The Aramaic Targum Jonathan went further, rendering Nimrod as “a mighty rebel before the Lord.”

The first-century historian Flavius Josephus connected Nimrod directly to the Tower of Babel, portraying him as the instigator of that colossal act of defiance against God (Antiquities of the Jews 1.4.2). Whether one accepts every detail of Josephus’s account, the trajectory is clear: Nimrod was no mere huntsman tramping through the brush. He was a founder of cities—Babel, Erech, Accad, and Calneh in the land of Shinar, and later Nineveh, Rehoboth-Ir, Calah, and Resen in Assyria (Genesis 10.10–12). He was a man of civilizational consequence, a builder and ruler whose shadow fell across the ancient world.

We must pause here and feel the weight of what is being said. The cities Nimrod built—Babylon and Nineveh—would become the very instruments of God’s judgment against His people centuries later. Babylon carried Judah into exile (2 Kings 25.1–11; 2 Chronicles 36.15–20). Nineveh was the seat of the Assyrian empire that devoured the northern kingdom of Israel (2 Kings 17.5–6). The seeds of captivity were sown in the brickwork of Nimrod’s ambition. God, in His providence, told us exactly who laid those foundations. Nothing in Scripture is accidental.

The First Archetype

Nimrod stands at the headwaters of something enormous. He is, perhaps, the first man in postdiluvian history whose life became a template—an archetype—that later cultures would reshape in their own image. The mighty hunter, the tyrant-king, the rebel who dared to defy heaven: these are not merely Nimrod’s characteristics. They are the raw materials from which countless myths were fashioned.

Consider what happened at Babel. Genesis 11.1–9 records that God confused the languages of mankind and scattered them across the face of the earth. If Josephus was correct that Nimrod instigated Babel’s construction, then the peoples who dispersed from that plain carried with them the memory of the man whose ambition had precipitated their scattering. As they settled in new lands and developed new tongues, that memory would not have vanished. It would have been retold, reshaped, and recast according to the genius of each emerging culture. The hunter became a demigod; the rebel became a tragic hero; the king became a figure among the stars.

We must be careful here, for we walk a line that requires both intellectual honesty and theological conviction. Moses wrote the Pentateuch later than the earliest Mesopotamian scribes committed their traditions to clay tablets. The pagans had the first opportunity to record stories of figures like Nimrod, and they did so with considerable embellishment—most notably in the epic of Gilgamesh, a legendary king of Uruk whose adventures bear unmistakable echoes of biblical narrative, including a great flood (cf. Genesis 6–9). But we must never confuse chronological priority with theological authority. The Hebrew Scriptures are not derivative of Babylonian mythology. They are the divinely inspired, theologically accurate account. What we can acknowledge, without any compromise of faith, is that the nations surrounding Israel were working from the same raw historical events—events they distorted, while Moses, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, recorded faithfully.

Written in the Stars

Perhaps the most striking echo of Nimrod is found not in a library but in the night sky. The constellation Orion has been recognized across cultures as the image of a mighty hunter. In Greek mythology, Orion was a son of Poseidon, a man of extraordinary prowess who boasted he would slay every animal on earth. The earth goddess Gaia responded by sending the giant scorpion Scorpius to kill him. After his death, Zeus placed Orion among the stars at the request of Artemis, the huntress. But Zeus also immortalized Scorpius on the opposite side of the sky, so that Orion is forever fleeing from the creature that destroyed him. His constellation depicts a hunter brandishing a club and shield against Taurus the Bull, accompanied by his hunting dogs, Canis Major and Canis Minor, who pursue the hare Lepus.

The parallels with Nimrod are striking, even if they resist dogmatic conclusions. Both were mighty hunters. Orion was the son of a sea god; Nimrod was the descendant of a man who survived the great Flood (Genesis 6.9–10; 9.18–19). Orion was destroyed by his hubris—the Greek concept of overweening pride that invites divine retribution. Nimrod, according to later tradition, was a man swollen with pride who was humbled by God through the dispersion at Babel (Genesis 11.8–9). The pattern is the same: a mighty man rises, defies the order of heaven, and is brought low.

And the Sumerians saw Orion as Gilgamesh. The Inuit call the constellation Ullaktut—three hunters chasing a bear. In Malay tradition, the constellation is Buruj Belantik, “The Hunter Constellation.” The Navajo saw a young warrior-hunter who provided for his people. The Chinese named the constellation Shen and associated it with a great hunter. Across oceans and millennia, separated by the very confusion of tongues that God imposed at Babel, cultures looked at the same stars and saw the same figure: a mighty hunter. That is, at the very least, a remarkable coincidence.

Providence in Every Syllable

Why does any of this matter? Because the Holy Spirit does not waste words. Every name, every genealogy, every city listed in the sacred text is there for a reason, even when that reason does not announce itself on the first reading. Paul reminded Timothy that “all Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3.16, NASB95). The brief account of Nimrod in Genesis 10 is no exception.

At minimum, God was drawing a direct line from the ambitions of one man to the empires that would later discipline His people. Babylon did not spring from nowhere. Nineveh did not appear by accident. Their foundations were laid by a grandson of Ham, a mighty hunter whose name became a proverb and whose legacy became a myth repeated in a hundred tongues. The prophets who later thundered against Babylon (Isaiah 13–14; Jeremiah 50–51) and Nineveh (Nahum 1–3) were, in a sense, addressing the spiritual descendants of Nimrod’s rebellion.

But there is a deeper lesson still. Nimrod’s story is the story of every man who builds without God. His cities were impressive; his hunting prowess was legendary; his name echoed through the centuries in ways that few names ever have. Yet what did it profit him? The tower he built—or inspired—was abandoned. The languages he united were shattered. The people he led were scattered to the four winds. Jesus asked the question that Nimrod’s life answers before it was ever spoken: “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” (Matthew 16.26, NASB95; cf. Mark 8.36; Luke 9.25).

The world remembers Nimrod in fragments—a constellation here, a myth there, a cartoon insult in between. But God remembered him whole. He placed Nimrod’s name in the only book that will never pass away (Matthew 24.35; 1 Peter 1.24–25). And He did so not to celebrate Nimrod’s achievements but to remind us that every empire built on human pride will crumble, while the kingdom of God endures forever (Daniel 2.44; 7.14). The mighty hunter has been hunted down by time. But the Word of the Lord stands eternal.

Faith Comes From Hearing

Carl Pollard

“So then faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ.” (Rom. 10:17)

Faith isn’t self-generated. It isn’t produced by emotion, inherited through family, or given through a personal experience alone. Scripture is clear, faith has a source, and it comes from hearing. 

Paul’s statement in Romans 10:17 is the conclusion of a powerful chain of reasoning. In the verses leading up to it, he asks, “How will people call on Him if they have not believed? How will they believe if they have not heard? How will they hear without a preacher? And how will they preach unless they are sent?”(Romans 10:14–15). Paul’s point is that salvation is tied to a message, and that message must be heard.

But not just any message, the word of Christ. The phrase “word of Christ” points to the revealed message about Jesus, His life, death, resurrection, and lordship. This isn’t some made up human philosophy; it is the authoritative, divine revelation of the gospel. Faith is born when that message is received! 

The word “hearing” here is more than sound entering the ear. It carries the idea of attentive, receptive listening. Many heard Jesus physically, yet few believed. Why? Because true hearing involves the heart (read Mark’s gospel). It is a willingness to receive, trust, and submit to what is heard.

This verse dismantles the idea that faith can exist apart from Scripture. If faith comes by hearing the word of Christ, then no one can have genuine, saving faith without exposure to that word. Feelings, traditions, and personal convictions aren’t enough. Faith must be anchored in revealed truth.

This should tell us the urgency of teaching and preaching. If faith depends on hearing the word, then withholding or neglecting that word leaves people without the very means by which faith is produced. Every sermon, every Bible class, every personal study carries eternal weight. We have the ability and responsibility to bring this message to the world. 

And it challenges us to ask, “what are we listening to? What is shaping our faith?” If our intake of God’s word is minimal, our faith will be weak. If our exposure is steady, deep, and sincere, our faith will grow.

God didn’t leave faith up to chance. He’s given a clear, powerful means for its formation, His word.

So if you want stronger faith, the answer isn’t mysterious. Listen. Open the Scriptures. Receive the word of Christ. Because that’s where faith begins, and where it grows!

When The Earth Was Divided: Understanding Peleg And Genesis 10:25

Brent Pollard

Within Genesis’ genealogies—a section we often skim—one verse has sparked debate for two millennia. Genesis 10.25 (NASB 1995) mentions Peleg: “for in his days the earth was divided.” Five words. No explanation. No footnote from Moses. Just a cryptic remark tucked between a father’s name and a son’s. Peleg’s father was Eber—the ancestor from whom the Hebrews take their name (Genesis 10.21; 11.16–19). The name Peleg comes from the Hebrew palag, meaning “to split” or “to divide.” The parallel account in 1 Chronicles 1.19 repeats the same statement, and Luke 3.35 places Peleg in the lineage of Jesus Christ.

So what was divided? The question matters—not because our salvation hinges on the answer, but because the Bible never wastes words.

The Oldest and Most Widely Accepted Interpretation

The most enduring interpretation—and the one with the deepest roots in Jewish and Christian scholarship—is that the “earth” in Genesis 10.25 refers to its people, not its geology. The pseudepigraphical book of Jubilees (second century B.C.) and the Biblical Antiquities of Philo (circa A.D. 70) both understand the division as a scattering of peoples rather than a fracturing of landmasses. The first-century Jewish historian Josephus agreed, as did the Seder Olam Rabbah, a rabbinical chronology dating to the second century A.D. Among Christian commentators, Keil and Delitzsch argue that erets (“earth”) here functions as a metonym for the world’s population, much as we might say “the whole world watched” when we mean its inhabitants.

Under this reading, the division is the aftermath of the Tower of Babel. God confused the languages of humanity (Genesis 11.1–9), and humans responded by fracturing into distinct linguistic, ethnic, and political groups. The Table of Nations in Genesis 10 catalogs exactly this kind of division: the descendants of Shem, Ham, and Japheth spreading across the ancient world, each “according to their languages, by their lands, by their nations” (Genesis 10.31, NASB 1995). Peleg’s name memorializes the era in which that scattering occurred.

A More Recent Theory: The Splitting of Continents

In the nineteenth century, commentator Adam Clarke proposed that Genesis 10.25 refers to a physical separation—the breakup of continents and islands from a single landmass. In 1858, French geographer Antonio Snider-Pellegrini cited this very verse to argue that the continents once fit together, decades before Alfred Wegener formalized the hypothesis in 1912. The sixteenth-century commentator Seforno suggested an environmental shift in Peleg’s generation that halved human lifespans, implying a cataclysm of enormous scale.

More recently, some creationist scholars, like Dr. Bernard Northrup, have argued from Hebrew philology that palag almost always denotes division by water—canals, channels, or ocean-spanning rifts. They point to Psalm 1.3, where the same root describes “streams of water,” and Job 38.25, where it describes a “channel for the flood.” If palag inherently conveys the sense of water-based division, then Genesis 10.25 may describe a literal geological event—perhaps the breakup of a supercontinent or catastrophic post-Flood sea-level changes.

However, even some young-earth creationists have expressed caution. A rapid breakup of the earth’s lithosphere would have produced geological violence rivaling the Global Flood itself. Within our own fellowship, Dr. Dave Miller of Apologetics Press has written that Moses’ comment about Peleg “most likely does not refer to the Earth’s continental division.”

A Third Possibility: Irrigation and Infrastructure

A less prominent interpretation attributes Peleg’s name to the digging of irrigation canals in Mesopotamia. Cyril Graham, a nineteenth-century English diplomat who traveled extensively in the Transjordan, argued that Peleg’s naming commemorated the first cutting of canals between the Tigris and Euphrates. While this reading aligns with the water-related sense of palag, it lacks meaningful biblical support and reduces a significant genealogical marker to a footnote on civil engineering.

So Which Interpretation Should We Accept?

Because the central question concerns what exactly Genesis 10.25 means by ‘the earth was divided,’ it is important to weigh the evidence for each interpretation. The principle taught by Fee and Stuart in How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth applies here: novel interpretations are usually wrong. With the majority of ancient Jewish and Christian scholarship pointing toward the division of peoples—not continents—and Genesis 10.25 appearing so close to the Tower of Babel account, the best-supported argument is that the division in Peleg’s day refers to the scattering of humanity. The text presents division as a pivotal event, tying Peleg’s era directly to Babel and making this interpretation central to understanding the passage’s significance.

Still, an honest reader senses a tension. On the third day of creation, God divided the dry land (erets) from the waters (Genesis 1.9–10). There, earth isn’t a metaphor for humanity; it’s literal ground. Reading erets as “people” in Genesis 10.25 requires accepting a shift in meaning that the text doesn’t explicitly signal. The metaphorical reading is plausible, but consistency may favor a literal sense.

A Name Worth Remembering

This question is a matter of opinion, not doctrine. Nothing in Genesis 10.25 affects the plan of salvation or the gospel’s terms. Where Scripture is clear, so should we be. Where it invites wonder, we can wonder—and should not impose our conclusions. What we can say confidently is: God, who names the stars (Psalm 147.4) and counts our hairs (Matthew 10.30), placed a man named “Division” in Jesus’s genealogy. However, the earth was divided in Peleg’s day; it was not random. It was Providence. Every division God allows, He intends to heal. In Christ, there is “neither Jew nor Greek” (Galatians 3.28, NASB 1995); one day, “every tongue will confess” Jesus is Lord (Philippians 2.10–11, NASB 1995). Peleg’s divisions are temporary. God’s Kingdom is not.

Books by the Pollards

A Tiny Spark Snail Mail Club (Kathy Pollard)

You Are Not The Owner

Carl Pollard

We live in a world that constantly says, “This is mine.” My time, my money, and my plans! 

But Scripture confronts that mentality head on. The Christian life begins with a fundamental shift in identity. You’re not an owner, you’re a steward.

A steward is someone entrusted with what belongs to another. And according to the Bible, everything we have, everything we are, and everything we will ever touch ultimately belongs to God. “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof” (Psalm 24:1). That includes me and you.

You Are a Steward of Your Life

You don’t belong to yourself. “You are not your own, for you were bought with a price” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20) That’s one of the hardest teachings in Scripture. Your life isn’t self-owned, it’s God-owned. You have been purchased by the blood of Christ. That means your life isn’t about personal fulfillment, comfort, or even your own plans. Out focus is now on faithful management of what God has entrusted to us. We should be asking, “What does the Owner want me to do with this?”

You Are a Steward of Your Time

Time is one of the clearest tests of stewardship because once it’s spent, it’s gone. “Making the best use of the time, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16). Every day is a deposit from God into your account. You don’t control how much you get, but you do control how you spend it. We often say, “I don’t have time,” but the truth is, we all have the same 24 hours. We just have misplaced priorities. How much of our time is given to God’s Word? Prayer? Serving others? Teaching our families? And how much is consumed by distraction?

You Are a Steward of Your Money

Jesus talked about money more than almost any other topic because it reveals what we truly value. “As for the rich in this present age… they are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share” (1 Timothy 6:17–18). Your money is not ultimately yours, but it is a tool entrusted to you by God.

You Are a Steward of Your Abilities

Every talent, skill, and opportunity you have is given by God. “As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace” (1 Peter 4:10). God gave you abilities so you could serve, not to be selfish. Some have the ability to teach, others to encourage, or lead, or give. And all are expected to use what they’ve been given.

You Will Give an Account

This is what makes stewardship so serious.“Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful” (1 Corinthians 4:2). One day, every Christian will stand before God and give an account of how they managed what He entrusted to them. Jesus told parables about this (Matthew 25:14–30). The master returns. The servants report. And faithfulness is rewarded.

You are not the owner of your life, you are the manager of it. And one day, the Owner is coming back. If God evaluated your stewardship today, your time, your money, your abilities, your life, what would He say “Well done, good and faithful servant”?

Or, “Why did you waste what I gave you?”

Books by the Pollards

A Tiny Spark Snail Mail Club (Kathy Pollard)

Waiting For Heaven’s Arrows

Gary Pollard

The status quo on this earth (including here in the USA) is deeply flawed. It can seem like most people are stuck in their own bubble and lack anything approaching self-awareness. Most people seem to be incapable of reason. It seems like all of our leaders are starving for war. The economy is not great, despite what some wish-casters would have us believe. It’s near-impossible to find a decent job. Most corporations are evil beyond comprehension. We have to doubt everything we see, hear, and read because AI has made sophistry available to the masses. The average person is burnt out, hopeless, oscillating between apathetic and angry, agnostic in all things, and overall done with reality. 

Christianity acknowledges that evil controls this world. It outright prohibits violence as a means to rectify this evil, preferring instead to wait for Jesus to return bringing rescue to us and justice to them. This is especially hard to do when greed and corruption affect us personally, but Christianity calls its followers to focus on personal moral growth and altruism. We can only control what we do individually, though never perfectly and with often-herculean effort. Our responsibility toward other people is to meet their needs to the best of our ability. 

Everything is scarier now as a parent. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to be patient with other peoples’ lack of self-awareness. I don’t want to pray for the powerful whose self-serving decisions make life harder and the future bleaker for my son. To list all of the things I don’t want to do would take up several paragraphs. None of us want to do those things if we’re honest with ourselves. This may be why Jesus had to suffer as much as he did. Unlike us, he didn’t deserve any of what he went through — so he has the right to tell us to love other people, and to do all of those things we don’t want to do. 

I’m not holding my breath for conditions to improve on this earth. The cat’s out of the bag and nothing short of Jesus’ return will fix it. He promised that people who believe in him and who follow his teachings will enjoy immortality on a perfect place (whatever that looks like) when he returns. This earth and its abuses (and those who do the abusing) won’t even be a memory in the paradise he’s prepared. Since our consciousness will be expanded (cf. I Jn 3.1-3; I Cor 13.12), I’d assume our capacity to explore (and the limits of exploration) will also be expanded. We won’t be capable of doing wrong, we won’t live in fear of judgment, we won’t have to work to survive, and we won’t have to worry about anything at all. There will be nothing but genuine, unforced, natural positivity. If there was ever a time to start taking our faith seriously, it’s now. Our greatest and only hope is in the Creator of this world, the visible image of God, the one who paid our existential debt, and the one who will rescue his global family when this earth burns. 

Books by the Pollards

A Tiny Spark Snail Mail Club (Kathy Pollard)

Be Fearlessly Fervent

Dale Pollard


It takes a special individual of both breed and brand to truly impact the world. The fact is, many will live their lives comfortable and content to never break any molds or “step outside the box,” as they say. Most believers understand that God has called us out of this world to be lights and to be different, but that means being uncomfortable (James 1:2-4). We don’t like that aspect of faithful walking and at times the fire inside us and the will to go on is at the verge of being snuffed out. On every side we are surrounded by a raging current of mainstream ideologies and beliefs that drown the masses sweeping them closer towards eternity—unprepared. That familiar and depressing reality can discourage and frustrate us to the point of tears. Preachers, elders, and leaders are constantly fighting these feelings as they huff and puff under the weight of it all.

Christian fathers and mothers anxiously worry about that painfully uncertain future their children will battle. Young people are plagued with convincing thoughts that a faithful life is all but impossible today. How can we make an impact? You may wonder what difference you could possibly make as you observe such a powerful and evil force.

Here is the bad news, it’s hard. But here is the wonderful news, it’s worth it! God has given us an instruction manual on how to become mighty misfits in a culture that rejects righteousness. There are permanent footprints left by the feet of godly men throughout history, and their tracks lead to victory for those that choose to follow them.

For example, there is the trail blazer and zealous disciple, Paul. He serves as an inspiring nonconformist when he abandons his previous life of riches, respect, and comfort. His courage, faith, and determination can produce a powerful stirring in our spirits. If that man with the thorn can overcome fear and defeat the devil’s endeavors, despite his own weakness, then by the grace of God we can too. Our lives can leave an impact and they can serve as beacon of light for generations to come.

Notice how Jabez demonstrates this point in 1 Chronicles 4:9-10. Within a lengthy list of family lines that make up the sons of Judah, Jabez breaks the mold. While numerous names are given, there is something more to be said of Jabez. He stands out as one who was “more honorable” than those who were before him in verse nine. Though his name means “son of my sorrow,” a label associated with affliction, he refuses to let this name define his future. The key to his success is given in the following verse which says, “Jabez called upon the Lord saying, ‘oh that you would bless me, your hand be with me, and that you would keep me from harm so that it might not give me pain!’ And God granted what he asked.” That verse is loaded with valuable lessons for this age and every age to follow.

Lesson one, don’t interpret your future by looking at your past. It doesn’t matter what family you were born into or how you were raised. We all have been given at least three common blessings. If you are made in the image of God, and you are, then that means you have talent, opportunity, and a life. The amount of talent, number of opportunities, and quality of that life is irrelevant. You have everything you need to succeed which is precisely what our Father desires.

Lesson number two, only God can grant you gainful glory. Jabez established his lasting legacy and was victorious because he understood one thing. God is the God of impartiality. He offers a heavenly hand to help the stereotypically weak and sinful human break the stereotype. The cards of life you hold in your hand mean little to the God who owns the deck. Jabez, Paul, and many faithful others understood the weakness of humanity. Their lives are a statement and a confession— God can help anyone rise above the crowd. He can help you achieve the only recognition that counts and give you the precious gift of a future with certainty.

The path to victory is a narrow one according to Matthew 7:14. Few have found it and few have finished it, but with the right Guide it can definitely be done. Are you unsure of your current location? Look down at the tracks you are following, and the guide walking with you. If you are holding the hand of the Savior— you can be sure you’re going in the right direction. Allow that comfort to strengthen you and break out of whatever mold you are in. Let God use your weakness and failures to leave an eternal mark on a world that needs it. There is no congregation that can’t grow, no Christian that can’t improve, and no unsaved person that doesn’t deserve the chance to hear that life changing message of the cross. There’s a great day coming, and that should provoke some excitement as well as motivate us all to diligently and fearlessly work until then.

When Sincerity Isn’t Enough

Carl Pollard

I was recently watching a documentary on the life of Billy Graham, and I found myself genuinely impressed. His morality seemed consistent, his integrity stood out, and his commitment to Christ was obvious. He preached to massive crowds, spoke clearly about sin, and called people to respond to God. The more I watched, the more I felt both admiration and uneasiness.

Admiration because of his devotion. Uneasiness because it raised a hard question. Can a man be that sincere, that disciplined, and that committed to Christ, and still be wrong about something as important as how a person receives the forgiveness of sins?

Billy Graham influenced millions. He preached Christ, the cross, the resurrection, sin, repentance, and faith. That shouldn’t be denied. But Scripture doesn’t measure a teacher by how many true things he says. It measures whether he teaches the truth fully.

The Bible never holds up sincerity as the standard. A man can be earnest, persuasive, and influential, and still be wrong where it matters most. That’s a hard truth, but it’s a biblical one.

Paul warned in Galatians 1:6–9 that even a changed gospel must be rejected. Not just a completely false message, but a distorted one. That makes this serious. Because a message can sound close to the truth and still fall short at a critical point.

Modern preaching often uses language like “accept Jesus into your heart” or “pray this prayer.” But when people in the New Testament asked what to do, the apostles answered differently. They preached Christ. They called for faith and repentance. And they also taught baptism in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins.

Jesus said, “He who believes and is baptized shall be saved” (Mark 16:16). Peter said, “Repent and be baptized… for the forgiveness of sins” (Acts 2:38). Ananias told Saul, “Arise and be baptized, and wash away your sins” (Acts 22:16). Paul wrote that we are baptized into Christ (Romans 6:3–4) and put on Christ in baptism (Galatians 3:27). Peter said plainly, “Baptism now saves you” (1 Peter 3:21). That language is clear. It’s part of how people were told to respond to the gospel.

So what happens when a preacher speaks powerfully about Jesus, but doesn’t teach people to respond the way the apostles did? He may say many true things. He may move people emotionally. He may even believe deeply in what he’s saying. But if he gives less than the full message, he isn’t teaching the whole truth.

Scripture shows this clearly. Apollos in Acts 18 was eloquent and fervent, yet he still needed correction. Saul of Tarsus was sincere and zealous, yet he was wrong. Romans 10 says zeal isn’t enough without knowledge.

A man doesn’t have to be evil to mislead people. He can be kind, moral, and sincere, and still be wrong. That’s what makes this so sobering.

In the end, this isn’t just about Billy Graham. It’s about us. Do we measure truth by Scripture or by results? Do we care more about influence or accuracy?

At judgment, no one will be saved by admiring a sincere preacher. The question is simple. Did we hear the gospel as God gave it, and did we obey it as the apostles preached it?

Sorry, Chase (Part 5)!

Gary Pollard

This week’s article will be the last in the series. It seemed good to me to do one pillar a week for this series, but this one makes five articles. That’s a bit much for one video, and takes on the spirit of something I cannot stand: debunking. That’s not my intent with this series. As has hopefully been clear, my goal is not to debunk the video (The ancients decoded reality) in its entirety, but to correct the observations where Christianity is concerned, and the implication that Christianity is no better or worse than any other world religion. I’ve stated (ad nauseam) that the overall content is excellent, there is much to be gained from his observations. But without a sound framework, it would be very easy for a believer or seeker to conclude that Christianity is just one entree on the menu. We briefly looked at the problem of Christianity’s historical approach to the symbolism and esoterism in scripture, and the need for a framework that doesn’t merely reduce the symbolism to a prosaic or literalist or unidimensional interpretation. Today we will look at the remaining pillars in Mr. Hughes’ video. 

The third universal observation is: Your mind is not a camera, it is a projector. To support this, he cites many of the same ancient texts. 

  1. What you think, you become (Dhammapada) 
  2. The all is mind (Hermetic texts)
  3. The world you perceive is shaped by the mind’s illusions (Hindu Vedanta) 
  4. The universe arises from consciousness (Upanishads)
  5. Reality is the moving image of eternity (Plato)

He looks to quantum physics, relying on the assumptions we’ve made concerning this poorly-understood field. He notes that observation changes the behavior of physical particles. The essence of his argument is that “two people can look at the exact same moment and come away with something different.” And, “We think they’re interpretations, but what they are is filters that reshape reality before reality reaches you.” He has some good observations here — “…the moment we stop letting fear hijack the projector, we start seeing reality pretty clearly for the first time.” His point being that fear robs us of our peace and willingness to surrender control. The problem is that there’s not really any way to confirm or deny this one, so it must be placed in the category of speculation. In my personal opinion, evidence seems to point to consciousness as being non-local. God gives each person the level of consciousness he deems appropriate, that consciousness returns to him at death, and will be “installed” in whatever kind of body we’ll enjoy at the resurrection. But this is difficult to definitively prove, and I defer again to John: Loved ones, we are children of God now, but what we will be has not yet been made clear to us. We know that when he is revealed we will be just like him, and that we will see him just as he is now. Even the inspired writers didn’t exactly understand the nature of the new body, only that our new bodies would necessarily have expanded consciousness. We cannot see him now, but we will see him when he is revealed to the world. 

The fourth observation is one we will partially disagree with: The enemy is not the world, the enemy is the ego. He says, “The only real enemy is the ego. Not demons, not bad luck, not other people, not the world.” This conclusion is a false dichotomy, and does not require much refutation for most Christians. “Friendship with the world is enmity towards God.” “Our fight is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers and powers of darkness.” To support one aspect of his point, though, we can point to James. He says that our tendency to sin comes from within ourselves — we fall prey to our own desires and become trapped in sin. So yes, our ego is an enemy, but not to the exclusion of the world and its influence or the unseen powers and their influences. The rest of his point is a discussion of the ego and its role in the psychological and social pathologies we deal with, and seems to be helpful overall.

The fifth and final observation: Everything is connected. “We see this in ancient temples and modern physics laboratories. Everything’s connected, everything’s one system, everything influences everything, that’s how everything it gets.” 

He points to the famous observation from the Hermetic texts, “As above, so below.” The Kabbalah, “All creation emerges from a single tree of life.” Again, quantum physics, “No particle is truly separate, every particle has some entanglement,” and many others. His point seems to be summarized by the following: “Nothing stands alone, so every action ripples, every emotion radiates, every intention vibrates through the whole. You are not some separate node in the universe, you’re a node in the cosmic brain firing inside of infinity. And your life is not happening to you, it is happening with you, through you, and as you.” 

The only aspect of this that we can confidently correct is the phrase, “You are not some separate node in the universe…” Scripture does teach that all things (and all consciousness) come from one Source. But this point is incompatible with Christianity in that each person faces their own judgment. Since he points to the Egyptian Pyramid Texts, we must point out that they also believed in individual judgment. Yes, we all come from one source and exist within one framework sustained by one All-Father. But this does not diminish the individuality each person has — why else would murder be considered wrong? If we’re all just “nodes in a cosmic brain”, what makes individual life special if consciousness is not anchored to unique identities within individual bodies? I would also point out that “as above so below” and other similar sentiments have more to do with the fact that things happening in the heavens have their counterparts on the earth. This does not necessarily support his supposition. 

In summary, most of his observations and conclusions are excellent overall, and would be beneficial to implement for anyone looking self-improvement in this life. However, many of his conclusions where Christianity is concerned are flawed. If this is implemented as a self-improvement tool, excellent. But to be adopted as an overall worldview or system of religion (which is functionally what this becomes) is not something a Christian can do and still be called “Christian.”

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When the Heart Cries “Real” but the Word Says “No”

Brent Pollard

A young man recently walked away from the church. He was troubled—genuinely so—convinced that demons from his past involvement with the occult were hounding him. He came seeking baptism, and we believe he hoped the gift of the Holy Spirit would arm him with miraculous power to fight what he feared. When Scripture did not tell him what he wished to hear, he turned to YouTube “prophets” who did. He found individuals who offered “deliverance prayers” and validated every feeling he carried. In the end, it did not matter what God’s word said, because it did not match what he felt.

His story grieves us. But it also instructs us, for it lays bare a danger that threatens every soul in every generation: the temptation to enthrone experience over revelation.

The Question of “That Which Is Perfect”

This young man, like many sincere believers, points to 1 Corinthians 13.10 and argues that “the perfect” refers to the second coming of Christ—meaning miraculous gifts continue until He returns. It is not a novel interpretation; many good-hearted people hold it. But the text itself resists it. Paul chose a neuter Greek word, rendered “that” in English. Had he meant the Lord Jesus, he would have used the masculine—”He.” The members of the Godhead are never called “that.” This is not a trivial grammatical point. It is the Holy Spirit’s own precision, and we tamper with it at our peril.

What, then, is “that which is perfect”? It is the completed, fully revealed word of God—the faith once for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3). When the last apostolic pen was laid down, revelation was finished, and the scaffolding of miraculous gifts, having served its glorious purpose, was taken away.

Witnesses from the Ancient Church

We do not stand alone in this conviction. The testimony of early Christian writers confirms what Scripture teaches. John Chrysostom, writing in the fourth century, observed plainly that the miraculous gifts Paul described had ceased. Those baptized in his day, he noted, no longer spoke in the tongues of all nations as believers had in the first century. Augustine of Hippo agreed, writing that such miracles “were no longer permitted to continue in our time,” lest they become commonplace and lose their power to produce faith. Cyril of Alexandria taught that the miraculous gift of languages at Pentecost was a temporary sign intended for the Jews—kept for life by those who first received it, but not passed beyond their generation.

These men were not skeptics. They were devoted servants of Christ who recognized what the New Testament itself describes: miraculous gifts were conferred exclusively through the laying on of the apostles’ hands (Acts 8.14–17), and an apostle had to meet the requirements of Acts 1.21–22. Since no one alive today meets those requirements, the chain of miraculous conferral has been broken—not by human failure, but by divine design.

We might also note a striking practical detail. Paul, who possessed the gift of healing, left his fellow minister Trophimus sick at Miletus (2 Timothy 4.20) and advised Timothy to treat his stomach ailments with a little wine rather than a miracle (1 Timothy 5.23). Even the apostle did not wield miraculous power as a tool of personal convenience. The gifts served God’s purposes, not man’s preferences.

What, Then, Are These Experiences?

If the miraculous gifts have ceased, what are we to make of the experiences people report? What of the young man who felt delivered? What of those who speak in ecstatic utterances and weep with the certainty that God has touched them?

We need not question their sincerity to question the source. The human mind is a remarkable instrument. When people pray or worship with deep intensity, the brain can enter a focused state in which the speech-filtering centers quiet down, allowing sounds and syllables to flow without conscious direction. It feels powerful precisely because it is unforced. But unforced is not the same as supernatural.

These experiences are also learned. In communities where speaking in tongues is practiced, people observe it, absorb its patterns, and are taught—directly or by imitation—how to interpret inner stirrings as the Spirit’s movement. Over time, the brain begins responding on cue. If everyone around you treats something as real, your mind learns to experience it accordingly.

Moreover, these moments often bring genuine emotional relief—a sense of belonging, closeness to God, even catharsis. A sudden thought becomes “God spoke to me.” A warm sensation becomes “the Spirit moved.” Ecstatic syllables become “tongues.” The brain, emotions, and social environment conspire together to produce something that feels deeply true. But feeling deeply true and being true are not the same thing.

Truth Is Not a Feeling

Here we must plant our feet on the bedrock of Scripture. Jesus Himself defined the matter with crystalline clarity: “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (John 17.17). Truth is not discovered through sensation. It is revealed through God’s word.

Scripture warns us repeatedly against trusting the heart’s verdict. Solomon writes, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death” (Proverbs 14.12). Jeremiah is blunter still: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17.9). Sincerity, however passionate, does not guarantee truth. A man may be sincerely wrong, and his sincerity will not cushion the consequences.

Test Everything

God has never asked us to accept spiritual experiences without scrutiny. John commands, “Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God” (1 John 4.1). Paul echoes, “Test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5.21). The question is never merely “Did something happen?” but always “Does this align with what God has revealed?”

Consider what biblical tongues actually were. At Pentecost, the apostles spoke recognizable human languages. Listeners understood them in their native tongues. The purpose was communication—the delivery of God’s message to real people in real words. That bears no resemblance to unintelligible sounds requiring no translation, only the interpretation of feelings.

And let us remember: God is not the author of confusion (1 Corinthians 14.33). Even when miraculous gifts operated in the first century, they were orderly, controlled, and intelligible. If an experience bypasses understanding entirely, that alone should give us pause.

The Spirit and the Word Are Never at Odds

The Holy Spirit does not operate independently from the word He revealed (John 16.13). He will not contradict what He has already spoken. If an experience cannot be verified by Scripture, it must not be attributed to the Spirit, no matter how vivid, how comforting, or how tearfully sincere the one who claims it.

God never asks us to choose between truth and experience. If something is truly from Him, it will stand in perfect agreement with His word. Where the two appear to conflict, it is not the word that must yield.

Let us, then, be a people who love truth more than feeling, who treasure revelation above sensation, and who test all things—not because we lack faith, but because we possess it. For the God who gave us His word did not give it so we might set it aside when something more exciting comes along. He gave it because it was enough. It has always been enough. And by His grace, it will carry us all the way home.

Cut Flowers Die

Carl Pollard

There is something beautiful about cut flowers. For a little while, they still look alive. Their color remains, and their shape stays intact. But everyone knows the same thing about cut flowers, they are dying. Why? Because they have been separated from their source of life.

Isn’t that a fitting picture of morality without God? A person can cut off the flower and still admire it for a while. And in the same way, a society can cut itself off from God and still hold on to certain moral values for a time. People may continue speaking about honesty, kindness, fidelity, justice, compassion, and decency. Outwardly, the flower is still there, but cut flowers die.

If morality is the flower, then God is the root. If righteous living is the fruit, then God’s word is the seed. Once people sever morality from the authority of Scripture, they may preserve the appearance of goodness for a generation or two, but it will not last! Morality can’t survive long when it’s disconnected from the One who defines what is good.

God Is The Source Of What Is Good

The Bible doesn’t present morality as something man invented. Goodness doesn’t begin with culture, education, public opinion, or human consensus. It begins with God! 

Psalm 119:68 says, “You are good and do good; teach me Your statutes.” Good is rooted in God’s character. He is the standard.

James 1:17 says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights.” If every truly good gift comes from above, then moral truth does too. Man doesn’t discover morality by looking within himself. He learns morality by reading the Word of God. Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O man, what is good.” Micah doesn’t say man figured out what is good, he says God has shown him. Moral truth is revealed truth! 

Morality Without God Cannot Stand

Many people want the flower without the root. They want the benefits of biblical morality without submission to biblical authority. They want strong families without God’s design for the family. They want justice without acknowledging the Judge of all the earth. They want dignity, value, love, sacrifice, and truth, but they don’t want the God who gives those words meaning.

But once morality is detached from God, it becomes unstable. Why is honesty good? Why is murder wrong? Why is sexual purity honorable? Why should someone sacrifice for another person? Why should the strong protect the weak? Why should truth matter more than desire?

If theres no God, then those questions have no fixed answer. Morality becomes preference, tradition, social convenience, or majority opinion. And what one generation calls virtue, the next generation may call oppression. What one culture honors, another may reject. Without God, morality becomes negotiable! 

Judges 21:25 describes the chaos that results when God’s rule is cast aside,

“Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” That is the natural end of morality cut loose from God. When man becomes his own standard, he doesn’t gain freedom, he finds confusion. 

Proverbs 14:12, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.” What “seems right” isn’t enough. Human instinct isnt a trustworthy moral compass. Feelings change, cultures drift, and hearts deceive.

Jeremiah 10:23 says, “O Lord, I know the way of man is not in himself; it is not in man who walks to direct his own steps.” Man can’t author a lasting morality because he was never meant to be his own god.

Cut flowers are beautiful, but eventually they whither and die. Moral decency without God is doomed to fail. 

Sorry, Chase! (Part 4)

Gary Pollard

The second universal observation, as posited in the otherwise excellent research presented by Chase Hughes (The ancients decoded reality), is mostly spot-on! “Fear is an illusion, and love is the truth.” And, “Fear is the greatest lie ever told. Love is the only thing that’s real.” He cites the bible first, and it is in this citation where (as far as I can tell) his only error, from a Christian’s perspective, is.  

He says, “The most quoted phrase in the entire bible is ‘be not afraid.’” Some variation of this command, according to the infallible internet, is indeed one of the most quoted in the entire bible. But then he says, “A quote from Jesus, ‘Perfect love casts out fear.’” Most of you have already spotted it! The error is a minor one, and he more than likely misspoke. I point it out only because it’s a well-known passage written by John, spoken by John (I Jn 4.18). If God’s love is fully matured in us, we can be without fear on the day when God judges the world. We will be without fear, because in this world we are like Jesus. No fear exists with love. None, because matured love throws fear away. This fear is of punishment! Anyone who is always afraid has not been made mature in their love.

So his overall point stands, if misattributed. In this case, though, that fear helps us know where our love is in the maturing process. If we’re still afraid (of death or of judgment), our love has not matured enough. So in the passage he cited, fear definitely means that something is wrong! 

From a Christian perspective, one kind of fear is critical to maintain: of the power, presence, and holiness of God. Better words for this kind of fear may be sublime (delightful horror) and awe (admiration and fear, reducing feelings of self-entitlement). Our motivation to follow God transitions from fear to love as we mature. It’s impossible to see something large and powerful (like a tornado or hurricane or comet) and not feel at least a little something in the pit of your stomach. Those are tiny manifestations of his power — a healthy fear/awe of the power behind those phenomena is not a bad thing. It keeps our view of self properly calibrated. Some variation of “fear God” is found about 300 times in scripture, which is as much or more than “be not afraid”. 

It is interesting that love is so powerful a discipline that every culture in antiquity praised it. Chase cites the following: 

  1. Buddhism:  “Hatred does not cease by hatred. By love alone is hatred healed.”
  2. Bhagavad Gita: “The path of devotion, love, leads to liberation. The path of ignorance, fear, leads to suffering.” Yoda apparently read the Bhagavad Gita. 
  3. Tao Te Ching: “Courage comes from love. Paralysis comes from fear.” 
  4. Dhammapada: “The mind is everything.” (This is explained further in his video)
  5. Sufi: “Your job is not to seek for love, but to find and remove the barriers you built against it.” 

Finally, “Fear is an illusion that keeps us asleep. Love is the frequency or the thing that wakes us up. Fear shrinks the self, love expands the self. Fear breeds ego, and love dissolves it. Fear isolates you, and love reminds you [who] you actually are. Fear makes you chase approval, validation, money, control; it makes us compare ourself to everybody else. Fear makes us live like something is missing — love, in the ancient sense, isn’t romantic. It’s oneness, alignment, essentially the recognition that we’re made of the same stuff… That’s why fear feels bad, because it’s biologically incompatible with what you actually are. Every mistake you’ve ever made, every relationship that blew up, every regret you carry, every time you sabotage your own potential, that’s all fear. Every ancient teacher: you’re suffering because you believe a lie. The moment you drop fear, you don’t just…find love. You don’t find love, you return to it. It’s why you’re born with it.” 

As you can see, his observations are mostly excellent! But if the observations imply universal compatibility between faiths, we have a problem. What videos like this do for us, though, is encourage us to return to a healthy interest in the esoteric aspects of scripture. Paul, John, Clement, and Origen (and many others) were no strangers to the esoteric. We have long abandoned its pursuit, perhaps because it was hijacked early on by Gnostics and other odd groups. Armed with only reaction, we’ll always be two steps behind. The difficulty lies in approaching the esoteric with a proper framework. There’s no shortage of esoterism and symbolism in scripture, we just tend to gloss over it or dilute it with reductionistic literalism. We are left, then, with only secular (often pagan) resources to tackle biblical esoterism. This is obviously dangerous! Whether we like it or not, it’s in the Zeitgeist. And because we’ve largely abandoned it, Gnosticism is now touted as being the earliest form of Christianity. What’s a seeker or curious believer to do in the face of these complex, often-convincing arguments without a mature framework to bring to the study of esoterism? Building such a framework would be an invaluable project for a group of Christian scholars to tackle! 

DYING OF FRIGHT WOULD BE HORRIFYING 

Dale Pollard

Charles Walton was a guy who lived in rural England back in the day (1890s). His death was a mysterious one and over the years the details have become a little blurry. Here’s the quick and skinny version.

Walton reportedly believed he had been cursed by a local witch after a dispute in his village. According to accounts recorded by local investigators and later writers of English folklore— he became increasingly terrified that supernatural forces were after him. One night he was found dead in bed with no obvious physical cause of death. The local doctor reportedly suggested that extreme fright and stress may have caused heart failure.

Cases like this are sometimes explained medically through what modern doctors recognize as “stress-triggered cardiac events,” such as Takotsubo cardiomyopathy or sudden cardiac arrest brought on by intense fear. The author admits his inability to pronounce any of that correctly or with confidence. 

PAGANS & JEWS & ROMANS— OH MY!

The Bible gives the perfect case study on the negative effects that fear has on us spiritually by providing insight into Timothy’s mind. 

On the outside he faces pagan people, jealous Jews, and the sword swinging soldiers of Rome. On the inside, the Christians who make up this young congregation are being led and taught by a young man— Timothy. He battles self doubt and a lack of confidence in his own abilities. To top it off, his mentor is in prison. 

Paul perfectly pens the inspired words that would lift young Timothy’s spirit by reminding him that the human spirit was designed to handle and persevere under such daunting circumstances. Paul writes (from a cell), 

“God did not give us a spirit of fear but of power, love, and a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1.7

The spirit (πνεῦμα) referred to here is not the Holy Spirit, but it’s the “disposition or influence which fills and governs the soul of any one” (Strong, G4154). 

God did not give us the spirit of skittishness so that we’d cower under confrontation or burn out under prospects of suffering.

Holiness amidst hostility is an ability that comes standard on the base model human spirit. It’s not a possibility, it’s a guarantee. So if we weren’t originally given a spirit of fear, what do we have? 

THREE GOOD WORDS 

Each key word in the verse gives the reader a little more when they’re dissected— check them out. 

Power

We’re equipped with power (δύναμις) that is, “inherent power, power residing in a thing by virtue of its nature” (Strongs, G1410). 

Love 

That aggressive strength is powerfully combined with love (ἀγάπη). In this case the word refers to an affection or good will towards others. The God given spirit is not heartless. We have the power to show affection yet some chose to pretend as if their personalities are simply not capable of showing this attribute. 

Self-control 

A sound mind (σωφρονισμός) is simply the ability to control yourself (Strong, G4995). 

WE’RE PROGRAMMED TO WIN 

We share a commonality with Paul’s protégé — (the reader would be shocked at the many attempts made trying to spell pro-toe-Shay). 

Like Timothy, we’ve been fashioned in the image of an eternal Being and our spirits drive an immortal soul. We aren’t designed to live in a constant state of timidity, we’re creations of courage. 

Courage is not the absence of a fearful feeling but it’s the ability to face that fear— and move forward.  

The Tongue, The Truth, And The Tangled Web:

Why Honesty Is Not Just A Policy But A Posture Of The Soul

Brent Pollard

Sir Walter Scott warned us well: “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” There is a reason this line has endured for two centuries. It endures because it is true, and truth has a way of outlasting the cleverest fabrication. A lie is not a single act; it is a seed that demands constant tending. The deceiver must water it with more lies, fertilize it with half-truths, and build an ever-expanding greenhouse of falsehood to keep the fragile plant alive. And yet, for all this labor, the harvest is always the same—exposure, shame, and broken trust. The liar works harder than the honest man, and his wages are ruin.

The Anatomy of Deception

We must be honest about dishonesty. People lie for different reasons, and those reasons matter—not because they excuse the lie, but because understanding the disease helps us apply the remedy. Some lies are born of cowardice. Others spring from vanity. Still others are calculated instruments of plunder.

Consider the pathological liar—a person so enslaved to falsehood that he fabricates elaborate stories without any discernible motive. Clinically, this pattern must persist for more than six months to warrant the label, though we are tempted to apply it more liberally. The pathological liar is not scheming for profit; he is performing for an audience that exists largely in his own mind. He seeks to appear grander, more interesting, more worthy of attention than reality permits. His is a pitiable bondage—chained not to external gain but to an internal compulsion that even he may not fully understand.

The scammer, by contrast, is coldly deliberate. While the pathological liar deceives from compulsion, the scammer deceives from calculation. His target is your wallet, your identity, your trust—anything of value he can extract and exploit. He is the wolf who has studied the sheep’s gait and practiced the sheep’s bleat. One thinks of the elaborate call-center operations where criminals masquerade as computer technicians, preying on the elderly and the trusting. The scammer’s lie is a tool, sharpened and wielded with precision, and it is wielded without conscience.

The Colors We Give Our Lies

It is a curious thing that our culture has developed an entire color wheel for deception, as though assigning a shade to a lie could soften its edges. The “white lie” lubricates the gears of social interaction—a small, supposedly harmless falsehood meant to spare another’s feelings. The “black lie” is its dark counterpart: intentional, exploitative, and universally condemned. Between these poles lie “gray lies,” told for mixed motives—partly to help another and partly to help oneself. These are said to be the most common variety, and perhaps the most insidious, because their ambiguity allows us to excuse them.

Then there is the “blue lie,” told to benefit a group—covering a colleague’s mistake, protecting the team’s reputation. And the “red lie,” which is deception as a weapon, driven by spite so consuming that the liar will injure himself if it means injuring his enemy. This last variety reveals the darkest truth about lying: it is not merely a moral failure but a spiritual sickness. A man so enslaved to vengeance that he will set fire to his own house to burn his neighbor’s—that is a soul in desperate need of deliverance.

But here is the point we must not miss: this spectrum of color is a human invention. God does not grade our lies on a curve.

What God Says About Lying

Scripture treats deception with an unsparing directness that should arrest every honest reader. Solomon declares that “lying lips are an abomination to the Lord” (Proverbs 12.22, ESV). That word—abomination—is not casual disapproval. It is visceral revulsion. It is the word used for the most grievous offenses against the holy character of God. And John, writing from Patmos, places liars in the company of the cowardly, the faithless, the murderers, and the sexually immoral, all of whom face the lake of fire (Revelation 21.8). There is no footnote exempting the “white” variety.

The reason is not arbitrary. Lying is an assault on the very nature of God. He is truth (John 14.6). He cannot lie (Titus 1.2). And the devil, that ancient serpent, is identified as the “father of lies” (John 8.44)—the original architect of deception whose native tongue is falsehood. Every lie, however small, however well-intentioned, speaks a word in the devil’s language. Every lie, to some degree, allies itself with the one who deceived Eve in the garden and who continues to deceive the nations.

And yet Scripture does not categorize lies by color. It categorizes them by function. Bearing false witness perverts justice and destroys the innocent (Exodus 20.16). Hypocrisy dons a mask of righteousness to conceal a rotting interior (Matthew 23.28). Flattery deploys smooth words as instruments of manipulation (Psalm 12.2). And self-deception—perhaps the most dangerous of all—convinces us that we have no sin, thus cutting us off from the very grace that could heal us (1 John 1.8).

When Survival Demands the Impossible

We would be dishonest ourselves if we did not acknowledge the hard cases. Rahab lied to protect the Israelite spies at Jericho (Joshua 2.4ff), and James commends her for her actions (James 2.25). Certain Germans during the Second World War—Oskar Schindler, Karl Plagge, and others—lied to the SS to rescue Jews from the gas chambers. These are the extreme edges of moral experience, where the preservation of innocent life collided with the command to speak truth.

But we must be careful not to build a theology of exceptions from a handful of extraordinary moments. Most of us will never face the Gestapo at our door. Most of our lies arise only to spare someone’s feelings or shield us from inconvenience. When survival is genuinely at stake, we may find ourselves trusting in God’s grace to cover what necessity demands. But we must never mistake that trust for permission, nor should we pretend that a lie ceases to be a lie simply because the motive was noble. Even in the direst circumstance, we are speaking a falsehood—and we do so in the sober awareness that we need mercy, not congratulations.

Practical Disciplines for Truthful Living

Practice the discipline of silence. The simplest way to reduce the frequency of our lies is to reduce the frequency of our words. Solomon understood this. Even a fool, he observed, can pass for wise if he keeps his mouth shut (Proverbs 17.28). And again: “When words are many, transgression is not lacking” (Proverbs 10.19, ESV). James echoes this counsel with an urgency that suggests the early church needed the reminder as badly as we do: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak” (James 1.19, ESV). When Elijah stood on Horeb, God was not in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire—He was in the still, small voice (1 Kings 19.12). There is something about silence that makes room for God to speak. Words are powerful, and power must be handled with care. The man who speaks less has fewer opportunities to sin—and more opportunities to listen, which is where wisdom begins.

Cultivate a radical simplicity of speech. Elaborate explanations are the breeding ground of exaggeration. Complex oaths are the refuge of the uncommitted. Jesus cut through all of it with surgical precision: “Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’” (Matthew 5.37, ESV). In His day, men would swear by the temple if they wanted an escape clause, but swear by the gold of the temple if they actually intended to keep their word (Matthew 23.16–22). Jesus condemned the entire charade. Our speech should be so plain, so dependable, that oaths become unnecessary. Solomon warned that there is more hope for a fool than for a man who is hasty in his words (Proverbs 29.20). Let us, then, be deliberate. Let our yes mean yes and our no mean no, and let us leave the embellishments to novelists.

Guard the heart from which your words flow. Jesus warned that the mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart (Matthew 12.34). If the well is poisoned, it does not matter how fine the cup—the water will still be toxic. Truthful speech begins not with technique but with character. It begins with the prayer of the psalmist: “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139.23–24, ESV). It continues with the daily plea: “Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!” (Psalm 141.3, ESV). The man who invites God to search his motives will find that honesty becomes less of a discipline and more of a disposition.

Establish a practice of immediate confession. When a lie escapes—and it will, for we are fallen creatures—the remedy is swift confession. Confess to God, who is faithful and just, to be forgiven (1 John 1.9). Confess to the person wronged, for healing comes through the honesty we should have practiced in the first place (James 5.16). Immediate confession prevents a pattern from forming. It breaks the cycle before the web can be woven. And it must be paired with the commitment to speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4.15)—for honesty without love is cruelty, and love without honesty is sentimentality. Neither one honors the God who is both perfectly true and perfectly kind.

A Posture of the Soul

Honesty is not merely a policy. Policies can be revised, suspended, or abandoned when they become inconvenient. Honesty is a posture of the soul before a God who cannot lie and who will not be mocked. It is the daily, deliberate alignment of our words with reality, which is to say, the alignment of our words with the character of the One who created reality and sustains it by the word of His power.

In a world that grades deception by color and excuses it by circumstance, we are called to a higher standard—one rooted not in social convention but in the very nature of our Creator. Let us, then, be people whose words need no footnotes, whose promises require no collateral, and whose speech reflects the One in whom there is no shadow of turning. For when we commit ourselves to truth, we do more than avoid sin—we bear witness to the Father of lights in a world darkened by the father of lies.

How To Handle Anxiety

Carl Pollard

Anxiety is one of the most common struggles people face today. Worry about finances, family, health, and the future can weigh heavily on our minds. While modern culture often treats anxiety purely as a psychological problem, Scripture addresses it as a spiritual battle of trust and perspective. The Bible doesn’t ignore anxiety, it provides a clear path for confronting it through faith.

One of the most direct teachings on anxiety comes from Philippians 4:6–7, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

The Command: Reject Anxiety

Sounds pretty straight forward, but Paul begins with a clear instruction: “Do not be anxious about anything.” The Greek word for anxious (merimnao) literally means “to be pulled in different directions.” Anxiety divides the mind between trust in God and fear of circumstances.

This command doesn’t deny that life contains real problems. Instead, it teaches that Christian’s aren’t meant to carry those burdens alone. Anxiety often grows when we try to control what only God can control. And we feed it constantly by trying to be in control! 

The Exchange: Prayer Instead of Worry

Paul replaces anxiety with a specific practice, prayer. Notice the progression in the verse:

  • Prayer, general communication with God.
  • Supplication, specific requests for help.
  • Thanksgiving, gratitude for what God has already done.

Thanksgiving is especially important. Gratitude shifts the focus from what might go wrong to what God has already proven faithful to do. When we intentionally bring our concerns to God, anxiety is exchanged for dependence.

The Result: God’s Guarding Peace

Paul promises that when we practice this pattern, “the peace of God… will guard your hearts and minds.” The word guard is a military term describing soldiers protecting a city. God’s peace stands guard over our inner life, protecting the heart (emotions) and the mind (thoughts).

Notice Paul says, this peace “surpasses understanding.” This doesn’t mean every problem disappears. Instead, God gives a calm confidence even when circumstances remain uncertain.

Jesus addressed anxiety in Matthew 6:25–34. Three times He tells His listeners “do not worry.” His reasoning centers on God’s care. God feeds the birds of the air. God clothes the lilies of the field. Humans are far more valuable than either! 

Jesus concludes in Matthew 6:33, “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” The biblical solution to anxiety isnt control of circumstances but proper priority. When life is centered on God’s kingdom, daily needs fall into their proper place.

Scripture gives several practical steps for dealing with anxiety. 

1. Identify the source of worry. Anxiety often grows from fear of the future or loss of control.

2. Replace worry with prayer immediately.

Instead of rehearsing problems mentally, bring them to God. If you’re already thinking about them, think about it with God. 

3. Practice intentional gratitude. Remembering God’s past faithfulness strengthens trust for the present.

4. Focus on today.

Jesus said, “Do not worry about tomorrow” (Matthew 6:34). A lot of anxiety comes from imagining problems that haven’t happened yet. 

The Bible doesn’t promise a life free from stressful circumstances, but it promises something better, the peace of God. Anxiety shrinks when we remember who God is, trust His care, and continually bring our concerns to Him in prayer.

When the heart learns to surrender control to God, worry gives way to confidence, and fear is replaced with peace.

Sorry, Chase! (Part 3)

Gary Pollard

At long last, we’re going to look at the five pillars — the main observations of Hughes in his video The ancients decoded reality. In case this is the first article you’re reading in the series, a brief explanation is in order. This content creator clearly spent a great deal of time and effort in studying all of these ancient texts and looking for similarities between them (over 180 sources spanning multiple cultures, epochs, languages, and religions). Most of his observations are excellent and intellectually stimulating! Some of his conclusions, where Christianity is concerned at least, are erroneous. Because (reference the first article) he posits cross-compatibility between all religions, this would make Christianity just another in an ocean of faiths. Jesus, in this framework, would be just another wise man, no different from Siddhartha Gautama or Lao Tze or Solon. The problem, from a Christian’s perspective, is that this denies Jesus’s status as God-man. No message is from God if it doesn’t acknowledge Jesus as coming from God. It comes from the enemies of Christ, the ones you heard were coming and are in the world right now (I Jn 4.1-3). 

I don’t for a second believe that Mr. Hughes is intentionally leading the Christians in his audience away from truth. He seems to be wholly genuine and has provided helpful (even life-changing) material for millions of people. But if the foundation isn’t solid, the message will be flawed. Whether with intent or as a result of ignorance, the potential for damage to a Christian’s faith is the same. Ironically, he quotes a passage from I John in the video in the same short chapter as the verse quoted above. 

Anyway, the first main observation is this: “You are not separate. You never were, you never could be.” He cites: 

  1. Upanishads: “You are that” (not connected to it, not loved by it, you are the thing itself.  Jesus said, “The entire kingdom of God is within you, not in a building or a book, in you”)
  2. Sufi texts: “You are not a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop.” 
  3. Hermetic texts: “All is one” 
  4. Taoism: “Everything is the Dao, expressing itself in ten thousand forms” 
  5. Popul Vuh: “Heart of sky, heart of earth” 
  6. Buddhism: “There is no separate self” 
  7. Kabbala: “Creation is one emanation divided only in appearance” 

On the face of things, this argument is not a bad one — and it certainly contains elements of truth. Jesus very often quoted from the ancient texts of the Jews, and used the ίερα γράμματα to establish eternal principles. Yes, the kingdom of God isn’t in any building or exclusively contained within any book. But his kingdom is also not comprised of all people allowing reality to experience itself through their eyes. Multiple times in the gospels he clearly taught that some will inherit that kingdom, and some will not. He told one teacher of the law, “You are close to God’s kingdom” (Mk 12.34). 

According to Mt 3.2 and 4.17, personal changes have to be made to be accepted in God’s kingdom. 

In Mt 5.3, that kingdom belongs to certain people (poor in spirit, persecuted because of faith). 

In 5.20, anyone who isn’t morally better than the Pharisees is barred from God’s kingdom. 

In 7.21, not everyone who claims to serve him will enter the kingdom. 

Multiple times, he says that God’s kingdom is “almost here” (3.2, 4.17, 10.7), and instructed his followers to pray that God’s kingdom would come (6.10, 33). If it existed exclusively within them (and/or within all people), how would some be excluded and some not? Why pray for and anticipate its arrival if it was already within them? We know it was something tangible because he said, “Some of you will still be alive when they see the Son of Man come with his kingdom” (Mt 16.28). 

God’s kingdom ≠ The Universe expressing itself in ten thousand forms. It is the new, someday-perfected, ideal form of personal and cultural identity. This is an identity that won’t be realized fully until Jesus returns (and is today made up of his followers). It transcends national borders, cultures, languages, and any other barrier that historically has prevented people separated by these things from playing nice with each other. It’s a return to the relationship we had with each other and with him before humanity fell. 

Besides this (critical!) aspect, the rest is good general advice — isolation is not fundamentally real, obsession with self leads to unethical behavior, etc. We are not, however, one field of consciousness expressing itself through billions of different viewpoints. The extreme emphasis in the New Testament on others-above-self calls for more concrete distinction between individuals than this worldview allows. We are truly, though, one. Not by our very nature, but because Jesus made it possible for everyone to be unified through his name, by his power. This means that there are, unfortunately, people who will not be one with him. Our hope is that by doing for others what we want them to do for us, we can lead them to the Source who is Truth and who will unify all of creation in himself when earth’s number is up. 

Let’s Be Preoccupied

Neal Pollard

Being engrossed in thought or distracted can be a bad thing, when you are driving, operating heavy equipment, or conversing with your spouse. But if you are preoccupied with those tasks, you should be commended. There is a word found a handful of times in the New Testament which conveys a powerful thought. The word is προσκαρτερέω (prostartereo). Depending on context and whether it is connected with a person or an object, it is translated “stand ready” (Mark 3:9), “devoting” (Acts 1:14; 2:42; 6:4; Rom. 12:12; 13:6; Col. 4:2), “continuing” (Acts 2:46; 8:13), and “personal attendants” (Acts 10:7, noun form). Two of the passages speak of physical laborers who were focused on a task for one who had the right or power to command them (Mark 3:9; Acts 10:7; the Greek Old Testament uses this word in Numbers 13:21 when Moses tells the spies to “make an effort then to get some of the fruit of the land”). One speaks of how earthly rulers are servants of God, devoted to their rule). The other passages refer to actions Christians took the initiative to do.

What preoccupied the time, thoughts, and energies of the early saints?

  • Prayer (Acts 1:14; 2:42; 6:4; Col. 4:2).
  • The Apostles’ Teaching (Acts 2:42).
  • Fellowship (Acts 2:42).
  • The Lord’s Supper (Acts 2:42).
  • The Ministry Of The Word (Acts 6:4).

It’s not a long and complicated list. They were engrossed in the public and private practice of prayer. They were riveted on studying and knowing and sharing the Word. They were dialed in to spending time with each other (and welcoming others to become part of them). They were obsessed with coming together to praise and adore God in worship. It affected their whole lives all the time.

The word carries the idea “of decisive or unflinching perseverance” and “emphasizes the persistent and submissive perseverance and tenaciousness of a self-enclosed group collectively oriented toward specific goals” (EDNT, 172). As you evaluate your life, what are your preoccupations? Your obsessions? What are you constantly driven to think, say, and do? Does it reflect the undivided attention of the early Christians, who by such preoccupation took the gospel to the whole world (Col. 1:23) and turned it upside down (Acts 17:6)? Devoutness to exclusively the things that will be destroyed when Christ returns is a tragic distraction! Let’s boil life down to the irreducible imperatives, “the good part, which shall not be taken away from…” us (Luke 10:42).

 Gideon: When the Deliverer Becomes the Danger

Brent Pollard

Few stories in Scripture trace spiritual decline more vividly than Gideon’s. Here was a man summoned from obscurity by the voice of God Himself. He was fearful, hiding grain from Midianite raiders in a winepress. Yet God called him a “mighty man of valor” before he had drawn a sword (Judges 6.12 ESV). Through divine power—not human strategy—Gideon led three hundred men to scatter an army beyond counting.

He had torn down his father’s altar to Baal. He had cut down the Asherah pole. He had obeyed when obedience was costly.

But the final chapter of his life tells a different story. It is the kind every Christian needs to hear, because its warning is not aimed at the faithless. It is aimed at those who have tasted victory and grown comfortable in its shadow.

The Dangerous Moment After the Battle

When Gideon returned from defeating Midian, Israel greeted him with a stunning proposal:

“Rule over us, you and your son and your grandson also, for you have saved us from the hand of Midian” (Judges 8.22 ESV).

Notice the fatal error buried in the compliment: “You have saved us.” Not God. Gideon.

This temptation is ancient and persistent. Whenever God works through a man, there is always a crowd ready to worship the instrument rather than the Hand that wielded it. Israel looked at the victory and saw a hero. They should have looked at the victory and fallen before God.

To his credit, Gideon refused.

“I will not rule over you, and my son will not rule over you; the LORD will rule over you” (Judges 8.23 ESV).

In that moment, he spoke a profound truth: God does not share His throne. He does not delegate sovereignty to human dynasties. He is King—not merely as a title but as an unalterable reality (1 Samuel 8.7; Isaiah 43.15; 1 Timothy 6.15).

There are no great men of God—only men of a great God. Reverse that order, and the fall has already begun.

A Nation Looking for a King It Already Had

Israel’s request was more than flattery; it was bad theology. They wanted a hereditary monarchy: Gideon, then his son, then his grandson.

But God had already defined their identity:

“You shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19.6 ESV).

Their king was not meant to sit in a palace. Their king spoke from Sinai. He led them through the wilderness as a pillar of cloud and fire (Exodus 13.21) and promised to drive out their enemies if they remained faithful (Exodus 23.20–33; Deuteronomy 7.17–24).

Israel wanted something visible, permanent, and human. God offered something invisible, eternal, and divine. The tragedy of the human heart is that it often prefers the former.

The same impulse appears in every generation. People long for a leader they can see rather than a God they must trust. When the church looks to personalities rather than Christ, it has already taken the first step toward Gideon’s error.

Gold in the Wrong Hands

Although Gideon declined the crown, he did not decline the gold.

He asked each soldier for a gold earring from the Midianite plunder. The request seemed modest, and the soldiers gladly complied. They spread out a garment and tossed in their share.

The total reached seventeen hundred shekels—roughly forty to seventy-five pounds of gold—along with ornaments, pendants, royal garments from Midian’s kings, and camel collars (Judges 8.26).

It was a fortune. And fortunes have a way of bending the soul.

The issue was not the amount but what Gideon did with it. Wealth itself is not condemned in Scripture, but it always tests the heart (1 Timothy 6.9–10; Proverbs 30.8–9; Matthew 6.21).

The real question is never what we possess, but what possesses us.

The Ephod That Became an Idol

Gideon used the gold to make an ephod and placed it in his hometown of Ophrah.

In its proper setting, the ephod was a priestly garment associated with worship and divine inquiry. The high priest wore one described in Exodus 28.6–14, and simpler versions were worn by Samuel (1 Samuel 2.18) and David (2 Samuel 6.14).

But during times of spiritual confusion, the ephod could be used in false worship. In Judges 17–18, Micah’s household shrine included one alongside carved images. Hosea later listed the ephod among the religious symbols Israel would lose in exile (Hosea 3.4).

What Gideon intended is uncertain. Perhaps it was meant as a memorial. Perhaps it was intended as a means of seeking God’s will.

But the result was devastating.

“And all Israel whored after it there, and it became a snare to Gideon and to his family” (Judges 8.27 ESV).

The irony is painful. The man who destroyed Baal’s altar created something that led Israel into spiritual adultery. The destroyer of idols became the maker of a new one.

The danger did not come from outside. It came from within—from the very victory that should have driven him closer to God.

When Good Things Become Ultimate Things

The language of Judges 8.27 is deliberately shocking. Israel “whored after” the ephod. Throughout the Old Testament, idolatry is described not merely as error but as adultery—the betrayal of a covenant relationship (Ezekiel 16.15–34; Jeremiah 3.6–10; Hosea 2.2–5).

God had delivered Israel from oppression and scattered an innumerable army with three hundred men. Yet Israel redirected its devotion toward a golden garment in a small town.

The pattern is ancient and ongoing. God acts. Man receives. Man then worships the gift rather than the Giver.

Israel did this with the bronze serpent Moses made until Hezekiah destroyed it because people burned incense to it (2 Kings 18.4). They trusted in the temple building rather than the God who dwelt there (Jeremiah 7.4).

Any good thing—a tradition, a practice, a religious symbol, even memories of past faithfulness—can become a substitute for the living God. The most dangerous idols are often the most religious-looking ones.

A Private Life That Told the Truth

The closing verses reveal a man whose private life contradicted his public words.

Gideon had many wives and seventy sons. He also kept a concubine in Shechem who bore him a son named Abimelech—“my father is king” (Judges 8.30–31).

Read that name again. Gideon publicly refused the crown, yet he named his son “my father is king.”

His mouth said one thing. His life said another.

Spiritual compromise rarely announces itself. It grows quietly through private choices until the consequences can no longer be hidden. Gideon’s household increasingly resembled that of a ruler rather than a servant.

Scripture repeatedly warns that the heart is deceitful (Jeremiah 17.9). A man may refuse a crown with his lips while building a palace with his life.

What Happened After the Funeral

When Gideon died, the collapse was immediate.

“As soon as Gideon died, the people of Israel turned again and whored after the Baals and made Baal-berith their god” (Judges 8.33–34 ESV).

They forgot the LORD who had delivered them. They also failed to show kindness to Gideon’s family (Judges 8.35). Soon, his son Abimelech would drench Shechem in blood while seizing the power his father had publicly declined (Judges 9).

This is what happens when faith depends on a man rather than God. When the man dies, the faith dies with him.

Israel’s devotion to the Lord lasted exactly as long as Gideon lived. That is not faith. It is borrowed conviction—and borrowed conviction always comes due.

Every generation must choose for itself whether it will serve the Lord (Joshua 24.15; Deuteronomy 6.6–9).

Five Warnings from Gideon’s Decline

Gideon’s early chapters inspire courage. His final chapter demands self-examination.

First, no past victory guarantees future faithfulness. Gideon defeated Midian but could not defeat the pride that followed the battle (1 Corinthians 10.12; Philippians 3.13–14).

Second, leaders must point beyond themselves. When people credit the preacher rather than the Lord, something has gone wrong (John 3.30; 1 Corinthians 3.5–7).

Third, religious traditions can become traps. The ephod itself was not evil, but devotion to it became a snare.

Fourth, private compromise eventually produces public consequences. The hidden life always surfaces (Luke 12.2–3; Numbers 32.23).

Fifth, faith must be personally owned, not merely inherited. Secondhand religion cannot survive the loss of its human source (2 Timothy 1.5; Deuteronomy 4.9).

The Reign That Never Fails

Gideon began as a hesitant servant who trusted God and obeyed His call. Through him, the Lord delivered an entire nation from oppression.

But his story reminds us that the battle for faithfulness does not end with a single victory. It continues every day until we stand before God.

Even those who have torn down altars can build new ones without realizing it.

In the end, Gideon’s greatest words remain his truest legacy:

“The LORD will rule over you” (Judges 8.23 ESV).

Not Gideon. Not any man. The Lord.

And when God truly reigns—over a heart, a home, or a congregation—His people remain secure. Not because they are strong, but because He is.

“The LORD is king forever and ever” (Psalm 10.16 ESV).

That is the only throne that never topples. That is the only reign that never ends.