Tag: Christianity

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.

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. 

The Invitation

Carl Pollard

Revelation 3:20, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”

This verse is one of the most well known invitations in Scripture, but it is often misunderstood. Many assume Jesus is speaking to unbelievers about initial salvation. While the principle certainly applies, the context shows that Jesus is actually speaking to Christians who have grown spiritually indifferent.

Revelation 3:20 is part of Jesus’ message to the church in Laodicea (Revelation 3:14–22). The Laodiceans believed they were spiritually healthy. They said, “I am rich, have become wealthy, and have need of nothing” (Revelation 3:17). Yet Jesus exposed their reality they were, “wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked.”

Their problem was lukewarm faith (Revelation 3:16). They were not openly hostile to Christ, but they were not passionately devoted either. They had allowed comfort and self sufficiency to push Jesus to the margins of their lives.

Jesus uses a powerful image, He is standing outside the door knocking. The church belonged to Him, and yet He was outside.

This idea is one of patient persistence. Jesus isn’t breaking the door down. He’s knocking and calling. The responsibility rests on the individual, “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door.” Faith is personal. Each person must respond.

Jesus promises something beautiful, “I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” In the first century, sharing a meal represented fellowship, acceptance, and relationship. Jesus is offering restored intimacy.

The Laodiceans had religion without love. Christ was offering them the very thing they lacked, true communion with Him!

This verse forces an uncomfortable question, Is Jesus really at the center of our lives, or have we pushed Him outside? It’s possible to attend church, know the Bible, and still live spiritually distant from Christ. Like the Laodiceans, we may feel self sufficient while our relationship with Him grows cold.

But the good news is that Jesus still knocks. He calls us back through His Word, through conviction, and through moments that soften our hearts. When we respond, He doesn’t reject us, He restores us.

Christ doesn’t want our attendance or routine. He wants our fellowship! The door only has one handle, and it’s on the inside. The question is simple, Will we open it?

The Power Of A Name

Dale Pollard

An angel appeared to Gideon while he was threshing wheat in winepress to hide from the Midianites, calling him a “mighty warrior” (Judges 6:12).

Gideon initially doubted his ability, noting how his clan was the weakest in Manasseh and he was the least in his family.

God instructed Gideon to reduce his army from 32,000 to only 300 men to ensure the glory was given to God, not human strength.

So, using only trumpets, jars, and torches, Gideon’s small force caused the Midianite army to panic and flee.

To this day he’s remembered as the judge who brought 40 years of peace to Israel, overcoming his own fear to act with God’s strength. 

Rachel was dying during childbirth on the way to Ephrath (A.K.A. Bethlehem).

Before she dies, she names her son Ben-oni, which means “son of my sorrow” or “son of my pain.” A boy would struggle in many ways if he was forced to grow with a name that marked him as a bringer of pain and served as a constant reminder of grief.

Thankfully, his father, Jacob, changes his name to Benjamin; meaning “son of my right hand.” A name change that no doubt shaped his life growing up for the better.

It’s interesting how names or nicknames can shape our identities from a young age. When children are trying to find out who they are or what their place is in the world, they often internalize observations about themselves given by those they’re closest to. 

God has allowed us to wear the Name of Christ (Romans 13.14)– an unbelievable honor. Anybody carrying His name has a future brighter than the rest. 

When Good Things Become God

Carl Pollard

Tradition is not the enemy. In fact, Scripture speaks positively about certain traditions. Paul wrote, “Stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us” (2 Thess. 2:15). The early church passed down apostolic teaching, patterns of worship, and faithful practices. In that sense, tradition can be a gift, a guardrail that keeps us rooted in truth. Tradition in this sense was truth handed down by Christ to the apostles (John 16:13).

But there is a difference between biblical tradition and traditionalism. I once heard it described as, “tradition is the living faith of the dead. Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.”

The clearest warning comes from Jesus Himself. In Mark 7:8–9, He rebuked the religious leaders: “You leave the commandment of God and hold to the tradition of men.” They weren’t condemned for having traditions but for elevating them above God’s Word.

The Pharisees believed they were preserving holiness. In reality, they were nullifying Scripture. Their traditions became filters that distorted God’s intent. Whenever our customs carry more authority than the Bible, we step into dangerous territory.

Traditionalism says, “We’ve always done it this way.” “That’s just how church is supposed to be.” And, “If it changes, it must be wrong.” Scripture tells us, “Test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21).

Traditionalism often confuses preference with principle. Worship location, order of service, dress expectations, building designs may be wise or meaningful. But when we bind them where Scripture does not, we risk adding to God’s Word.

In Colossians 2:23, Paul warned about man-made regulations that “have indeed an appearance of wisdom” but lack true spiritual power. Human systems can look holy while missing the heart. Traditionalism tends to resist biblical correction. It fears cultural engagement. It can prioritize comfort over mission. Ironically, many traditions that feel “ancient” are only decades old.

Traditionalism becomes especially harmful when it alienates younger Christians. When faith is presented as a rigid preservation of forms rather than a relationship with Christ, it breeds either rebellion or apathy.

The church is called to guard the gospel, not freeze cultural expressions in time. The message must not change. The methods often must.

At the same time, we should guard against the opposite end of the spectrum, novelty for novelty’s sake. Not all change is healthy. Scripture calls us to contend for “the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3). Stability matters. The accumulated wisdom of the church matters.

The solution isn’t to abandon tradition but to submit every tradition to Scripture. Does this practice clearly flow from the Bible? Does it help us glorify God and reach people? Or are we defending it simply because it’s familiar?

Traditionalism becomes sin when it binds where God has not bound. It divides over matters of preference (or conscience). It replaces obedience with ritual. It protects comfort over Gods mission.

Jesus didn’t die to preserve our customs. He died to redeem people. Faithfulness isn’t measured by how tightly we cling to the past, but by how fully we submit to Christ in the present. May we cherish biblical tradition, reject human traditionalism, and build churches shaped not by nostalgia, but by the Word of God.

“Absolute Truth”

Gary Pollard

This week we’ll look at the problem of Language, continuing our criticism of aspects of the video The ancients decoded reality by Chase Hughes. I want to reiterate here that Mr. Hughes is an excellent researcher and has provided valuable information in his work. I believe his conclusions are flawed where Christianity is concerned, however. Similarities between writings and observations do not constitute universal compatibility, as will hopefully be demonstrated in this series. 

After positing that Truth exists in every tribe myth and scripture (04:12), he says, “We got lost in the arguments, differences, translations, rituals, politics, and fear. We started defending our favorite books, rather than noticing what they were all trying to say.” 

To some extent this is true. “Die for Christ, die for Allah, die for Jerusalem, die for Torah; father and son, marching in rhythm, firing bullets through the skulls of the children. Holy war, mortars and martyrs; holy war, unholy followers.”1 Religion weaponized is a potent plague, always leaving millions dead in its wake. The brilliance and beauty of Jesus’s teachings — when they’re actually followed without human interference — is their non-compulsion and self-sacrificing love. There is only one way to truth: Christ. “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life — no one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). But it was never to be forced upon anyone, and personal death was always demanded over the use any kind of violence. “To me, the only important thing about living is Christ. And even death would be for my benefit” (Php 1.21). 

Since Chase says, “…rather than noticing what they were all trying to say,” we have to point out that many of these religions are mutually exclusive — at least in their current form. Most of the ones predating Christianity seem to have been based on genuine, profound observations of reality in their original forms. But these were corrupted over time, with personified forces of nature eventually venerated as gods and goddesses. The original meaning of their symbolic language devolved into rituals and often-dysfunctional forms of worship. Jesus came to earth at “just the right time” to bring Truth back to the world for good (Gal. 4:4). But in their current forms they are not compatible. 

Where Christianity will most fundamentally disagree with Mr. Hughes: Truth (with a capital T) is not fully knowable in this body; at least, not the kind of Truth he’s talking about (universal knowledge and enlightenment). I Corinthians 13 says, “Now we see God as if we are looking at a reflection in a mirror. But then, in the future, we will see him right before our eyes.” Chase correctly points out the severe limitations of our ability to capture and delineate the infinite using human language. This is the core of today’s look at his video. 

He correctly and eloquently describes language as “a net with holes too large to capture the infinite.” He cites Lao Tzu, “The dao that can be spoken is not the eternal dao.” Then he says, “The moment you try to describe ultimate truth, you’ve already distorted it, filtered it, and tried to contain it.” This is precisely why Truth is personified in Christianity. Truth is Jesus, and Jesus is Truth. We won’t be able to digest what that means until he returns (I Jn 3.1-3), but we can at least understand that he is the embodiment of universal Truth, an exact reflection of the nature of God. 

Chase says, “Knowledge was hidden, but not the way we think and not for the reasons we think. It was hidden because they were trying to describe the indescribable, and the human brain was not designed to handle these truths. Language is the core problem” (05:40-06:15). I’m writing this series in large part because of these next lines: “Jesus understood this [problem of language’s limitations]. He told his disciples, ‘I speak to them in parables because most people aren’t ready to comprehend the Truth directly.’ They didn’t have language for quantum physics or non-duality or consciousness models like we have today, in our still-infantile language. They had to compress the infinite into words” (07:02-07:14). There are a few problems with this. 

  1. Jesus wasn’t talking about quantum physics or non-duality. Even through a modern lens, this interpretation stretches the text beyonds its limits. Jesus spoke in parables to filter out true seekers. He even spoke in parables to his own followers because they weren’t spiritually mature enough to understand why he was there. He gave them the job of spreading everything — his parables AND his plain, uncoded teachings — to the world through their writings after his ascension. His teachings give us the path to enlightenment, but make it clear that that is something only fully realized in the expanded consciousness of our resurrected bodies. That path is selfless love, self discipline, loving God and helping people as often (and covertly) as we can. 
  2. The ancients’ view of consciousness is one that resonates even today. Origen argued in favor of non-local consciousness in Peri archon, and suggested the possibility that genetics influenced this in some way (Traducianism). The concept of soul in the New Testament has more in common with a consciousness model than we might think (or teach). We still use the transliterated form of this word today: psyche. The ancient Egyptians expressed this through concepts like ka and ba. It was understood that our bodies are powered by a life force (spirit/breath) that came from God, and returns to the Source after death. They understood that our consciousness is what makes us the “image of God”. They knew that death only expands this consciousness and its capabilities, and those who follow God will enjoy the benefits of this in an upgraded, indestructible body of some kind. We’re the ones lagging behind the ancient understanding of consciousness, not the other way around. 
  3. Few, if any, modern languages are improvements on their ancient ancestors. English is one of many well into its declining stage. West, Schwaller, and others like them convincingly demonstrated the superiority of ancient symbolism over modern scientific jargon, which is often used to obfuscate ignorance. Look at the opening lines of John’s gospel (“in the beginning was the Word…”), and compare that to how we might express the same in modern language.2 Our ability to grasp the infinite has degraded over the centuries, not improved. 

Finally (for today), Chase says, “All ancients hit the same wall. How do you describe an experience bigger than thought itself, using a language that’s built out of thought? How do you describe God, Unity, Infinity, Consciousness with a vocabulary built for farming and weather and trading spices and chickens with each other? How do you tell someone the universe is One before they understand atoms or galaxies or even their own mind? You can’t. So [the ancients] spoke in metaphors and symbols and myths and stories and poetry and parables and riddles — and sometimes silence. They didn’t do this to hide the Truth; the Truth was just too large to fit through the doorway of our primitive little language” (07:23). 

He makes several good points! Language is wholly inadequate to express the infinite, and symbolism is the best way to express the “eternity written on our hearts.” But symbolism is not accessible to the masses, and still falls short of actually capturing the infinite. Jesus presented Truth (or the path to it) to the masses using those stories and parables and mysteries. The early church recognized the multi-layered nature of Christ’s teachings — accessible to the masses on its surface level, while giving the esoterically-minded something to really chew on at its deeper levels of meaning. We do the text disservice to stop at a literal reading (derived through exegesis) to the neglect of any symbolic, allegorical, or spiritual teachings that may also be present. 

So while I think we would generally agree with his statement, there are some problems as well: 

  1. Knowledge of atoms, galaxies, etc. does not impact anyone’s capacity for spiritual understanding.3 Much of that is intuitive anyways, which he would likely agree with! Anyone with physical senses mostly intact can understand that reality is composed of parts and wholes, ascending to an ultimate unity, the one God and Father of all who is above all, through all, and in all things (Eph 4.6). 
  2. As stated earlier, it is not the purpose of this life to fully understand Truth (all there is at the universal scale). Our potential for understanding Truth will only be realized in our new bodies. 
  3. Language does not seem to have been originally designed for “trading spices and chickens”. The ancient Aymara language (still spoken today, but dates to pre-Incan times), for example, is so computer-program-like that it was used as the bridge language for translation software for decades. My point in nitpicking this is that our modern understanding of the world and our cosmic environment — and the ancients’ different understanding of the world and our cosmic environment — have little bearing in the grand scheme on our capacity for spirituality. Civilizations rise and fall, and we are very likely not the most advanced to have existed on this earth. 

As for the last statement (“they didn’t do this to hide the truth”), I would point to the ancient Egyptian practice of guarding secret knowledge. In the Old Kingdom, it was accessible only to kings. In the Middle Kingdom, non-royal elites (also Moses, cf. Acts 7.22) were included. The later Pythagoreans (who got everything from Egypt) were said to have guarded aspects of their knowledge with deadly force. Secret societies have existed in some form for all of human civilization. Jesus differs from the ancient esoteric traditions in that he made it available to everyone with eyes to see and ears to hear. Truly complete knowledge isn’t possible in this life, but we will enjoy that benefit in our new bodies. 

1 Holy War, Thy Art is Murder

2 ”Today, in modern terminology, we can say: at the incomprehensible and, by human faculties, unimaginable but nevertheless expressible and logically necessary instant of the Primordial Scission, the absolute being conscious of itself, created the manifest universe, whose fundamental formative aspect is vibration, a wave phenomenon characterized by movement of variable frequency and intensity between oppositely charged poles. This movement is not to be considered as separate or distinct from the poles but rather as that which by its existence produces or compels the significance of the respective poles, since negativity and positivity require an underlying concept of opposition/affinity in order to render them meaningful; the three aspects or forces thereby are assumed as inherent within the original Unity, which is the Absolute or Transcendent cause. This may not be an improvement upon St. John.” — West, J. (1979). Serpent in the sky. The Julian Press, Inc.p. 81

3 Atoms were posited by Democritus in the fifth century BC; inside Sepi III’s coffin (1900 BC) is the Vignette of Re, likely a depiction of a heliocentric solar system — with its planets — long before modern rediscoveries of this fact. These observations don’t seem to have impacted their ability to discern truth in positive or negative ways. 

What The World Needs Now: The “Unnatural” Love Jesus Commands

Brent Pollard

Why Jesus Commanding Love Strikes Us as Odd

There is something that stops us cold when we first read John 15.17. Jesus commands us to love. We instinctively resist this. Love, we have been told since childhood, is something that happens to us—a feeling that comes unbidden or not at all. And yet there it stands in the plain Greek of the New Testament: a command. An imperative. Not a suggestion, not an aspiration—a command.

The love Jesus commands does not bubble up from the wellspring of natural affection. It does not depend on the worthiness of its object. It is a love that originates not in the heart but in the will. This is what makes it unnatural—not aberrant or disordered, but swimming against the powerful current of a fallen nature that has always reserved its warmth for those who return it.

What Made Jesus’ New Commandment Truly New

The Jews of Jesus’ day already had a command to love their neighbors (Leviticus 19.18). But centuries of theological trimming had quietly reduced the definition of “neighbor” to a comfortable radius of like-minded, like-blooded individuals. This is precisely why Jesus told the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10.25–37)—a story so deliberately unsettling that it practically demanded a verdict.

Then, in the upper room on the night of His betrayal, Jesus issued a new commandment: “Love one another, even as I have loved you” (John 13.34, NASB95). The newness lay in its standard and scope. The measure of this love was no longer the mirror of self—it was the cross. And the cross looks like a man hanging between criminals, praying, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 22.34, NASB95). That is the standard.

Agapē Love: What the Greek New Testament Reveals About Loving Like Christ

Koine Greek—the common tongue of the first-century world—distinguished at least four varieties of what we flatten into one English word. Phileō was friendly affection. Storgē was a family bond. Erōs was romantic desire. And rising above them all stood agapē—sacrificial, unconditional, self-emptying love. Kindness is extended when kindness is not deserved. Forgiveness is given when the wound is still fresh. Service rendered without expectation of return.

You do not feel your way into agapē. You choose your way into it. The natural loves are genuine goods, gifts from God’s hand—but left unchecked, they curl inward. The love of family becomes contempt for the stranger. The tribe’s love becomes hatred of the outsider. Agapē redeems and elevates these natural loves, rightly orienting them. It is not human morality at its finest—it is participation in the divine nature, the love of God shed abroad in human hearts by the Holy Spirit (Romans 5.5). You cannot manufacture it. You receive it, and then choose to deploy it.

Agapē, in its fullest sense, is the deliberate choice—empowered by God—to seek another’s genuine good at personal cost, because that is precisely how God in Christ has loved us.

“Othering” in Modern Culture and the Ancient Problem It Represents

Hal David, moved by the turmoil of the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War, wrote words that Jackie DeShannon made famous: “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.” Were David writing today, surveying our present moment, the pen would move with the same urgency.

We live in a time of othering—the process by which human beings made in God’s image are reduced to caricatures and assigned to an outgroup whose humanity can be safely disregarded. The Nazis did not begin with gas chambers. They began with names, with the slow rhetorical work of placing people outside the boundaries of moral concern. Today, the preferred weapons are different—”Nazi,” “fascist,” “bootlicker,” “communist”—but the intent is identical: to frame opponents as a them against whom any response is justified. The summer of 2020 saw politically motivated murders amid the George Floyd protests. January 2026 has already recorded two deaths connected to ICE enforcement protests. Solomon was right—there is nothing new under the sun (Ecclesiastes 1.9). Human fallenness finds new costumes for old sins.

How the Cross Teaches Christians to Love Their Enemies

The command of Jesus is not an antiquarian curiosity. It is addressed to this fractured, furious moment. The temptation—and we should name it honestly as a temptation—is to reserve our warmth for the in-group and feel entirely justified in our contempt for ideological enemies. But the One commanding our love is the same One who prayed forgiveness over the men who drove the nails.

The decision to love precedes the feeling of love. We choose to pray for those who despise us. We choose to speak with dignity about those whose politics make our blood simmer. And grace, practiced in genuine submission to God’s Spirit, reshapes not just our behavior but our hearts.

Jesus said the watching world would know His disciples not by their doctrinal precision or political affiliations, but by their love for one another (John 13.35). The church, in an age of othering and outrage, is called to be a visible demonstration that another way is possible—that the love of God in Christ is not a theological abstraction but a living reality.

The command is given.

The standard is the cross.

The power is the Spirit.

And the world is watching.

The Sin Of Self-Reliance

Carl Pollard

There’s a quiet danger that often hides beneath ambition, discipline, and hard work. It doesn’t look rebellious, and it doesn’t sound arrogant. In fact, it’s usually praised! That danger is self-reliance.

We live in a culture that celebrates independence. From childhood we are taught to stand on our own two feet, chase our goals, and depend on no one. Strength is admired. Neediness is frowned upon. The message taught is if you want something done right, do it yourself.

While responsibility and initiative are good qualities, they can quietly evolve into something spiritually destructive. Self-reliance becomes sinful when it replaces dependence on God.

Scripture consistently reminds us that human strength is limited. Proverbs 3:5 is a verse we have been teaching Rich and Amara to memorize. It is simple, but so important. Solomon warns, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” That command assumes something important, our understanding is not sufficient. We dont see the full picture. We are finite, while God is not.

The problem with self-reliance isn’t that we work hard. The problem is that we begin to believe our effort is the ultimate reason for our success! Prayer becomes optional, and our gratitude weakens. Decisions are made without seeking God’s wisdom. We may still attend worship and read Scripture, but practically speaking, we operate as if everything depends on us.

This mindset produces pressure. When life rests entirely on your shoulders, anxiety naturally follows. Every outcome feels personal. Every failure feels final. But Scripture paints a different picture of strength. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul writes that God’s power is made perfect in weakness. Weakness isn’t something to hide, it is the doorway to dependence! 

Self-reliance can also damage relationships. When we refuse help, resist accountability, or struggle to admit fault, pride quietly takes root. Dependence on God cultivates humility. It reminds us that every breath, every opportunity, and every blessing ultimately comes from Him.

There is freedom in surrender. When we acknowledge our limitations and actively trust God, the weight shifts. We still work. We still plan. But we do so prayerfully, recognizing that outcomes belong to Him.

True strength isnt found in proving we can handle everything alone. It’s found in trusting the One who already holds everything together!

The Truest Valentine: Love Written in Blood

Brent Pollard

The Forgotten Man Behind the Holiday

Saturday brings us once more to Valentine’s Day, that peculiar fixture of the modern calendar in which chocolate and sentiment have almost entirely buried the bones of a third-century martyr. The holiday bears the name of a man who bled for Christ, yet we have dressed his memorial in pink and red and made it an occasion for romance. One suspects that if Valentine himself could survey what has become of his feast day, he would be bewildered—and perhaps grieved.

Who was this man? The historical record is thin. Multiple martyrs bore the name Valentine in the second and third centuries. Still, tradition has settled on a Roman priest—sometimes identified as a bishop of Terni—who was executed under Emperor Claudius II around 269 AD. The legends are familiar: that he secretly performed Christian marriages, that he penned a farewell note signed “From your Valentine.” These details are charming, but the earliest sources contain none of them. What we do know is this: Valentine was a minister of the Gospel. He was martyred for his allegiance to Christ. The early church honored him as a witness—a martyr in the original Greek sense of the word—to the lordship of Jesus. Everything else was embroidered into the story during the Middle Ages, much as the legends of Christmas accrued around a manger that, in its original hour, was far more stark and dangerous than any Nativity scene suggests.

In 496 AD, the Catholic Church established the Feast of Saint Valentine on February 14th as a liturgical commemoration—not of romance, but of Christian fidelity under persecution. If love was to be associated with the day at all, it was the love described in John 15:13: “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” The connection to romantic love did not emerge until after 1382, when Geoffrey Chaucer wrote in his Parliament of Fowls: “For this was on Saint Valentine’s Day, when every bird comes there to choose his mate.” From that poetic seed grew a cultural vine that, over the next several centuries, would entirely obscure the root.

By the 1500s, European nobles were exchanging Valentine’s notes. Romantic pairings became the dominant association with February 14th. What was forgotten—quietly, gradually, and almost completely—was that a man had forfeited his life for his faith in Christ. What follows is a pattern we observe repeatedly in history: a religious observance is absorbed by commerce, reshaped by local culture, and re-exported globally in its modified form.

A Holiday Remade by Commerce and Culture

Consider Japan. There, Valentine’s Day has become a Sadie Hawkins affair. Women give honmei-choco (“true feeling chocolate”) to romantic interests and giri-choco (“obligation chocolate”) to coworkers and superiors. Japanese confectioners, not content with a single commercial holiday, invented “White Day” on March 14th, when men reciprocate with gifts worth two to three times what they received. As Japan grows more progressive, a growing pushback among women seeks to eliminate giri-choco, which may eventually nudge Japan toward the Western model of Valentine’s Day as a lover’s holiday.

Korea adds an even more inventive wrinkle. Koreans observe both Valentine’s Day and White Day in the Japanese fashion, but they have appended a third occasion: “Black Day” on April 14th. On Black Day, those who received nothing on either holiday gather to eat jajangmyeon (black bean noodles) and commiserate over their single status. One cannot help but note the irony—that a day once consecrated to the memory of a man who died for the highest love has been culturally refracted until it produces a holiday devoted to lamenting the absence of the lowest.

This trajectory is instructive. It reveals something about the nature of human culture: left to its own devices, the world will always trade the costly for the comfortable, the cruciform for the commercial, the eternal for the ephemeral. It has done so with Valentine’s Day. It has done so with Christmas. It will do so with any truth that demands something of us, unless we are vigilant to remember what the truth actually requires.

Love Detached from Sacrifice

Here we must make a spiritual observation, for our purpose is devotional rather than merely cultural. When love is detached from sacrifice, it becomes fragile. This is not a sentimental claim. It is a theological one, rooted in the very nature of God and the pattern of His self-revelation.

Examine every major New Testament articulation of love, and you will find that love is never defined primarily by emotion. It is demonstrated through surrender, not sentiment. God did not merely feel affection for the world; He gave:

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3.16, ESV)

“Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” (Ephesians 5.25, ESV)

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15.13, ESV)

Do you see the verb that anchors each of these texts? It is not “felt.” It is not “enjoyed.” It is “gave.” Love, as Scripture reveals it, is not the warm feeling that overtakes us when conditions are pleasant; it is the deliberate act of self-expenditure when conditions are agonizing. The cross was not a gesture of sentiment. It was the ultimate act of will, the most purposeful decision in the history of the cosmos—the Son of God choosing, in full possession of His faculties and full awareness of the cost, to absorb the wrath His people deserved.

Strip sacrifice from love, and what remains? Affection. Enjoyment. Personal fulfillment. Preference. These are not worthless; however, they are not durable. A love built on enjoyment will fracture the moment enjoyment fades—and enjoyment always fades. A love sustained by emotion will collapse the moment emotion shifts—and emotion always shifts. Only a love anchored in the deliberate, costly, daily decision to give of oneself can endure the pressures that this fallen world relentlessly applies.

The Architecture of Love

Perhaps an analogy will help. Think of love as a building. Sacrifice is the foundation and the structural steel. Romantic attraction is like paint—it beautifies, but it bears no weight. Shared interests are the furnishings—they make the space enjoyable, but remove them, and the building still stands. Emotional chemistry is like lightning—it illuminates brilliantly for a moment, but you cannot wire a house with it.

Without sacrifice, marriage collapses under duress. Friendships dissolve under inconvenience. Church unity disintegrates under disagreement. Why? Because sacrifice is the only form of love that says, “I will stay when it costs me.” And make no mistake—it will cost you. The question is never whether love will be tested, but whether your love is the kind that can survive the test.

Consider Paul’s inspired description in 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient. It bears all things. It endures all things. It does not seek its own. It never fails. We must remember the context: Paul was not composing a wedding homily. He was addressing a fractured congregation riven by pride, division, and the competitive misuse of spiritual gifts. When he wrote that love “does not seek its own” (1 Corinthians 13:5, NASB95), he was describing cruciform love—love shaped like the cross. This is not the love of Hallmark cards. This is the love of Gethsemane and Golgotha.

If Love Is What We Feel, It Will Fail

Here is the great dividing line: if love is what we feel, it will fail; if love is what we choose, it will endure.

Paul could describe this perfect love in 1 Corinthians 13 because he had seen it incarnate in Christ. Jesus did not withdraw when obedience brought the hematidrosis of Gethsemane—that dreadful sweating of blood that Luke, the physician, records with clinical precision (Luke 22.44). Jesus did not retreat when loyalty to the Father brought Him the agony of Calvary. He stayed. He chose to stay. And His staying was not passive endurance but active, purposeful self-giving for the glory of the Father and the redemption of His people.

This means that 1 Corinthians 13 is not idealism. It is not the wistful poetry of a romantic who has never suffered. It is the testimony of a man who watched his Lord die and who understood that the pattern of that death was now the pattern for all Christian love. It is imitation, not imagination.

And that is our call. The love Paul describes is not reserved for poets or newlyweds, for the spiritually elite or the naturally affectionate. It is the daily decision of the disciple. It is patience when irritation would be easier. It is kindness when pride demands recognition. It is endurance when quitting would bring immediate relief. It is the quiet, unglamorous, often unnoticed choice to remain faithful when faithfulness is expensive.

The World’s Love and Christ’s Love

The world celebrates love that dazzles. Christ commands love that remains. The world measures love by its intensity of feeling. Christ measures love by its faithfulness under fire. The world asks, “How deeply do you feel?” Christ asks, “How faithfully will you stay?”

We must not be confused about this. The world’s version of love is not entirely wrong—it is merely insufficient. Romantic feeling is a good gift of God. Emotional connection is part of His design. Enjoyment of one another is woven into the fabric of human relationships. But these things are the blossoms, not the root. And when we mistake the blossom for the root, we are devastated when winter comes, and the blossoms fall. The root of love is sacrifice. The root of sacrifice is the will. And the will is strengthened not by feeling, but by faith—faith in the God who first loved us in precisely this way.

John writes: “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3.16–18, ESV). Notice the movement of the text. John does not allow love to remain in the stratosphere of theology. He brings it immediately to earth: Do you see your brother in need? Then act. Love is not what you say. Love is what you do when doing is costly.

A Valentine Written in Blood

As the world exchanges cards and chocolates this Saturday, let us remember what Valentine’s Day was intended to commemorate. Not romance. Not sentiment. Not the fluttering heart of a new attraction. It was meant to honor a man who loved Christ more than he loved his own life—and who proved it by dying.

And behind that man stands the One whose love makes all other loves possible: Jesus Christ, who on a Roman cross authored the truest Valentine ever written—not in ink, but in blood. That is the love we are called to imitate. Not merely to admire, not merely to theologize about, but to embody—in our marriages, our friendships, our congregations, and our daily encounters with a world that desperately needs to see love that does not quit.

The measure of our love is not how deeply we feel, but how faithfully we stay. May God grant us the grace to love as Christ loved—with a love that gives, that stays, that sacrifices, and that endures. For that is the love that never fails.

The Sin No One Talks About

Carl Pollard

We are living in the most hurried generation in history, and we celebrate it. Being too busy is so normal that there is even a medical term for it: hurry sickness. We eat while driving, walking, or working. We answer emails during phone calls. We listen to podcasts on double speed. Many people check their phones close to 100 times a day. According to the American Psychological Association, more than 77 percent of Americans report chronic stress, and nearly one in three say it severely affects their mental health. Still, when someone asks how we are doing, we say, “Busy,” almost with pride. Exhaustion has become a status symbol.

Our culture treats hurry like a virtue. Scripture doesn’t. In Psalm 46:10, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” The word “still” means to loosen your grip, to stop striving. God isn’t asking for more frantic effort.

In the Old Testament, God built rest into the life of His people. The Sabbath forced them to stop working and remember that their survival didn’t depend on constant productivity. It depended on Him. Today, everything is optimized for speed. Faster shipping. Shorter videos. Quicker results. Even in worship we feel it. Prayers get shorter. Attention spans shrink. Worship competes with notifications.

Jesus lived differently. In Luke 10, Martha was busy serving, doing what her culture valued. Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and listened. Jesus gently pointed out that Martha was anxious and troubled. In Mark 1:35, Jesus woke up early to pray before the crowds found Him. He refused to be controlled by urgency. In John 11, when Lazarus was sick, Jesus delayed. His timing wasn’t careless. It was purposeful.

Hurry produces impatience and weak judgment. It drains joy and weakens discernment. You can be active in the kingdom and still grow resentful if you never slow down to be with God. Patience is listed as fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5, and fruit doesn’t grow overnight.

Hurry isn’t harmless. It shortens our prayers, strains our relationships, and makes it harder to obey God. The answer is simple but not easy. We must slow down! We need unhurried prayer, focused time in Scripture, and real conversations without distraction.

The world may be frantic, but God’s people don’t have to be. Those who walk closely with Him aren’t the ones moving the fastest. They are the ones who take time to listen and obey.

What Is The Meaning Of Life?

Neal Pollard

Big question! Apparently, it is at the top of all questions people ask around the world every month, gauging from internet search engine queries. According to dailysearchvolume.com, it spikes “with cultural moments…annual reflection periods…academic calendars…and headline- driven uncertainty.” It “is timeless, cross-cultural, and frequently resurfaced by media references, classroom assignments, life transitions, and news cycles that provoke reflection.” Whether or not we use those exact words, all of us spend a lifetime with that question at the heart of everything we are and all we do. 

What does the question imply?

EXISTENCE. We are alive and aware. We exist, and because we exist we want to know why. We can observe much about “life.” It is brief. It has joy and sorrow. It is not always what we want it to be and thought it would be, and we may have to overcome unexpected and adverse things. But there is no way around it. We exist. We are here.

EXPLANATION. Was it random chance? Was it an accident from a cause that did not have me in mind? An unlimited number of “what” questions drive the original question. It is consummately unsatisfying to believe or conclude that there is no answer. The result of such aimless existence is despair, depression, apathy, and a certain fatalistic emptiness, if we accept the consequences of purposeless position. 

EXCLUSIVENESS. At the very least, by asking what “is” life’s meaning, we are saying that while there may be many responsibilities and lesser pursuits something is premier and preeminent. There is an ultimate meaning. Discovering and pursuing that should take center stage and demand our highest attention and investment of our basic resources (time, money, and energy). It leads us to ask, could money, pleasure, fame, or education be the answer? Yet, countless people have made that their “why” only to experience utter emptiness at the end of life.

EXPECTATION. We want an answer or we would not ask. Nobody wants to hear, “I don’t know” or “it does not matter.” Life coaches, self-help organizations, mentors, support groups, community, and endless other entities exist to fill the hole induced by our question. We believe we can find it, we want to know, and then we want to do what we can to accomplish our quest with success. We wake up each day wanting to live with significance.

What if there was a resource that seriously, meaningfully, and logically explained an exclusive purpose for our existence and shaped our expectation? It would have to be internally coherent, consistent, and consequential. What if I were to tell you that a single source fully answered the most frequently asked question people ask every day? Would you want to know more about it? 

Freedom From Mortality

Gary Pollard

I recently read something very powerful and felt it was worth sharing. It is a fitting reminder that materialism and a pursuit of physical wealth do our soul no favors — in fact, they sabotage our pursuit of God’s wisdom. It further illustrates God’s statement that the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil (1 Tim. 6:10). 

An obligatory disclaimer: I don’t agree with everything this author wrote. This should not be seen as an across-the-board endorsement of his writings on spiritual topics, though his works on Egyptian history are invaluable. But we’ve likely all heard quotations in the pulpit that were taken from Einstein, Reagan, Eisenhower, and other secular figures — consider this a quotation in the same spirit. 

“May the people of our time, who by reason of the alleged comforts derived from their scientific technology are falling more and more deeply into matter, come to understand that if the end of bodily life is death, the end of what constitutes the body’s life is to survive and liberate itself from what is mortal. The means of attaining this end is no more difficult than it is to live. Yet this is precisely what few people know how to do. Most are solely concerned with distracting themselves, passing the time that separates them from the hour of death they so greatly fear. 

To live is not to work. If we are condemned to work in order to maintain our life, this sentence constitutes the suffering through which we must acquire the intelligence-of-the-heart that is, in itself, our life’s spiritual aim. To base existence on work is as unwise as to found society on economic principles. Love of the task makes work joyful, and a good economic order is a secondary result. Mechanicalness, the emanation of a warped consciousness, as well as valueless money, these have been the cause and means of action for ambitious leaders to drag our world into the depths of misery. Out of this comes a reaction which will betray the expectations of these misguiding masters. The divine spark ever slumbers within man, and when animated by a new breath is irresistible.” 

— R. A. S. de Lubicz (1985)

The Case For Life

Carl Pollard

Every society is ultimately judged by how it treats its most vulnerable. History bears this out. Civilizations are not remembered for their technology or wealth alone, but for whether they defended human dignity or sacrificed it for convenience. Few issues reveal this moral fault line more clearly than abortion.

At its core, abortion isnt a political or medical issue. It is a moral question, a scientific reality, and a spiritual matter that forces us to ask a simple but uncomfortable question: What is the value of human life?

Scripture is crystal clear about the source and worth of human life. Life is not accidental, disposable, or owned by society. It is given by God and bears His image.

Genesis 1:27, “So God created man in his own image.” This is not a status earned by size, ability, or independence. It is a condition of being human. From conception forward, human life carries divine worth.

Psalm 139:13–16 describes God’s involvement in the womb: “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.” The psalmist does not speak of a future person, but of a present one known by God before birth.

Jeremiah 1:5 reinforces this truth: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.” God’s relationship with human beings begins prior to birth, not after.

Throughout Scripture, God consistently condemns the shedding of innocent blood (Proverbs 6:16–17). No category of people is more innocent or defenseless than the unborn.

Science doesn’t argue against life in the womb. In fact, modern embryology overwhelmingly affirms it.

At conception, a distinct, living human organism comes into existence. This new being has its own DNA, separate from the mother and father, determining sex, eye color, and genetic identity.

By three weeks, the heart is beating. By six weeks, measurable brain activity is present. By eight weeks, all major organs have begun to form. By ten weeks, the unborn child can respond to stimuli. These are not philosophical claims. They are biological facts taught in medical textbooks.

The question, then, isn’t when life begins. Science has answered that. The real question is whether we believe some lives are more worthy of protection than others.

Since the legalization of abortion in the United States, tens of millions of unborn children have lost their lives. Globally, abortion accounts for tens of millions of deaths every year, making it one of the leading causes of death worldwide.

Statistics also reveal another uncomfortable truth. Abortion does not solve social problems. It masks them. Poverty, lack of support, abusive relationships, and fear are not cured by ending a life. They are exploited to justify it.

Women are often told abortion is empowerment, yet many report long-term emotional and psychological distress afterward. Depression, guilt, and regret are not uncommon, even if rarely discussed publicly. Ending a life doesn’t heal anything. It compounds it.

If human rights mean anything, they must apply to all humans. If worth depends on size, location, dependency, or wantedness, then no one’s rights are secure. A newborn is smaller than a toddler. A disabled person may be dependent on others. An elderly person may be unwanted. Yet we recognize their right to live.

To argue that the unborn do not deserve protection because they cannot speak or survive independently is to adopt a standard that would justify horrific injustice elsewhere.

The womb should be the safest place on earth. Instead, it has become the most dangerous.

Human life has value not because of what it can do, but because of what it is. A child is not valuable because they are planned, healthy, or convenient. They are valuable because they are human.

This is the foundation of every just society. When life becomes conditional, morality becomes negotiable.

God’s design has always been clear. Life is sacred. Children are a blessing, not a burden. And justice demands protection for those who cannot protect themselves.

Abolishing abortion isn’t about controlling women. It is about refusing to dehumanize children. It is about building a culture that responds to crisis with compassion, not death, and support, not silence.

The answer to abortion is not apathy or anger, but truth and courage. Truth that life begins at conception. Courage to defend it even when it is inconvenient.

The measure of our humanity is not found in our slogans, but in our willingness to stand for life when it costs us something.

If life is truly sacred, then it must be protected. All of it. Especially the smallest among us.

Common Arguments Used To Defend Abortion: 

1. “My body, my choice.”

Pregnancy involves two bodies. The unborn child has a separate DNA, blood type, and biological identity. Bodily autonomy does not include the right to intentionally kill another innocent human being. Society already limits “choice” when it harms others.

2. “The fetus isn’t a person.”

Science confirms the unborn is a living human organism from conception. Personhood based on development, location, or ability is arbitrary and dangerous. If personhood is granted by others, human rights are no longer inherent.

3. “Life begins at birth.”

Birth changes location, not nature. A baby minutes before birth is biologically identical to a baby minutes after birth. No scientific event at birth creates humanity.

4. “What about rape and incest?”

Rape is a horrific crime, but abortion punishes an innocent child for the sin of another. Justice does not permit killing one innocent person to ease the suffering caused by another’s crime.

5. “The baby won’t survive or has severe disabilities.”

Human value does not depend on health, lifespan, or ability. To argue otherwise revives the logic used to justify eugenics and discrimination against the disabled. Compassion does not require killing.

6. “Women will die if abortion is illegal.”

Modern medicine can treat life-threatening complications without intentionally killing the child. Direct abortion is never medically necessary to save a mother’s life. Treating pathology is not the same as ending a life.

7. “Abortion is healthcare.”

Healthcare aims to heal, not intentionally kill a patient. Abortion ends the life of a distinct human being and therefore contradicts the fundamental definition of medical care.

8. “The child is just a clump of cells.”

Every human is a clump of cells. The question is not cellular composition but organism identity. From conception, the unborn is a complete, developing human organism.

9. “The child isn’t viable yet.”

Viability depends on technology, geography, and age. Human rights cannot depend on hospital access or medical advancement. Dependency does not negate humanity.

10. “Abortion reduces poverty and suffering.”

Killing the poor does not solve poverty. Ending life is not a moral solution to social failure. True justice addresses suffering without destroying the sufferer.

11. “Women will still get abortions anyway.”

The same argument could be used to legalize any crime. Laws exist to restrain evil, protect the innocent, and shape moral understanding. Justice does not yield to lawlessness.

12. “The Bible doesn’t explicitly mention abortion.”

The Bible condemns the shedding of innocent blood, affirms God’s work in the womb, and recognizes unborn children as known by God. Moral truths are often established by principle, not explicit wording.

13. “Abortion should be rare, but legal.”

If abortion is wrong, it should not be legal. If it is legal, society teaches it is morally acceptable. There is no moral category for “justified injustice.”

14. “Criminalizing abortion punishes women.”

Abolition seeks equal justice, not cruelty. Law recognizes moral agency while also addressing coercion and exploitation. Exempting one group from accountability denies the humanity of the victim.

15. “This is a religious belief, not law.”

Opposition to killing innocent humans is a moral principle shared across cultures and legal systems. Laws already reflect moral judgments about life, harm, and justice. Neutrality is a myth.

Loving The Elders

Dale Pollard

Though Scripture doesn’t say, you can be sure
David’s sheep had no idea how lucky they were to have a
shepherd like him. They were just sheep after all. How could
they fully appreciate the extent that David went to in order to
keep them safe? Before this begins to sound ridiculous, let’s
remember that at least two of David’s sheep were carried off
in the jaws of a lion and a bear. When the terrified bleating
of an unfortunate sheep is heard by the shepherd, he sprints
after the wild animal knowing all the while — it’s just a sheep.
It’s just one sheep! Nevertheless, David strikes the predator
and saves the sheep (1 Sam. 17:34-35).

What made David a good shepherd? It certainly
wasn’t his stature. The average male of his day stood around
five feet tall. He was also the youngest of his family, and often
unappreciated (1 Sam. 16:11; 17:29, 33). It was David’s heart,
not his height, that made him exceptional. He was a natural
shepherd of sheep, and of people.

David is sent by his father, Jesse, to deliver bread for
his brothers, who are among Saul’s army. When he arrives on
scene, everyone is afraid and unwilling to take a stand against
the arrogant Goliath. But before the giant warrior from Gath
meets the shepherd boy from Bethlehem, a few more giants
will be faced.

The first giant was the giant of degradation.
David’s own brother, Eliab, would greet him with
two belittling questions that would make a lesser man feel
sheepish, but not this shepherd. Eliab asks, “why have you
come down here?” and, “who is watching the few sheep?”
David’s brother doesn’t think he belongs among warriors and
that he is only capable of handling a small number of simple
animals.

The second giant was that of accusation.
In the same breath, Eliab would accuse and insult
David three different times. He claims, “I know how
conceited you are and how wicked your heart is. You’ve only
come to watch the battle.” How wrong he was and how dare
he insult such a godly man! It’s interesting to note that David
had an answer to each of these questions and accusations, but
never attempts to defend himself. His father sent him, that’s
why he was there. He was there to deliver nourishment for
this dear brother who had, no doubt, worked up an appetite
doing absolutely nothing. No retaliation or snarky remark
would escape from the shepherd’s mouth because nothing like
that was in his heart (Matt. 12.34).

The third giant David would conquer would be the towering
giant of indignity. He didn’t shame his brother and he didn’t let his
brother’s shaming keep him from shining.

Shepherds put up with a lot, don’t they? Good
shepherds really put up with a lot. Faithful God-fearing elders
within the Lord’s church all over the world are faced with
giants more often than they should be. Sometimes, the giants
they face are their own sheep. How easy it is to make
confident accusations against them and to question their
intentions, hearts, and capabilities. That unpaid servant of
God is more often than not the first one to come running
when the bleating of a wayward member is heard. When we
find ourselves in clutches of our various trials, they attempt to
pry us out. At times they earnestly pray over and take on
burdens that aren’t theirs to carry. Faithful elders will find
themselves in a position in which they could make the sheep
feel ashamed, but choose to save the feelings of others
because that’s what a good shepherd does. It’s not their
height, it’s their heart. The sheep need to love their
shepherds because the shepherds love their sheep.

The Integrity Test

Gary Pollard

[Note: Gary, as well as Dale and Carl, attended the Future Preachers Training Camp in Denver, CO, for several years. The following is Gary’s sermon from June, 2007, when he was 13 years old]

A farmer called on a wealthy Englishman to inform him that a pack of his hunting dogs had destroyed a part of his crop. The gentleman asked how much that part of the crop was worth. The farmer thought $100 would do it (quite a sum in those days). The gentleman wrote him a check immediately. As harvest approached, he noticed that the trampled part produced better than the rest. He went straight to the wealthy Englishmen, intending to return the check. The Englishman was extremely pleased and said, while writing him a check for twice the amount, “Hang on to this. And when your son is come of age, give him this and tell him the occasion that promoted it.”

Integrity Prevails.

An example is my illustration. He could have kept the generous check and put it toward an extra good crop. But, instead, he was honest and tried to return the money and got twice as much. In Psalm one, it mentions the ungodly as a number of things. All point to no integrity. Some warring tribes believed that in battle a warrior inherited the spirit of the one killed. What kind of spirit would the victor inherit? The same principle applies in Christianity. What would you leave behind? Would that person be honest? Would you leave integrity?

The Man Of Integrity

Psalm 1:1 is about what the man of integrity doesn’t do, who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly. Who does not stand in the path of sinners. Psalm 1:2 states what the man of integrity does do. His delight is in the law of the Lord. In His law he meditates day and night.

The Ungodly Have No Integrity

“The ungodly are not so, but are like the chaff which the wind drives away.” We have seen in the first three verses about the godly man and his reward. In verse four and five, we see the ungodly and their punishment.

The Rewards Of Integrity

Proverbs 20:7 says, “The righteous who walks in his integrity—blessed are his children after him!” You could be tested for anything in life. In Vacation Bible School, Dean Murphy was talking about how Satan tempts you by what you want most, but might not be good or you might not need. Another good tool for fighting temptation would be integrity.

The story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife is a good example of integrity. He was put to the test (Gen. 39:7-12). He could have given in any time she asked. He used integrity and was able to withstand the temptation to commit sin. If Joseph had given in to this temptation, he would have been condemned.

Even as Christians, we can have a lack of integrity. Say you go to Walmart and you get a bag of Almond Joy Minis. It happens to fall to the very bottom of your cart. After you get to your car, you look at your receipt. They didn’t ring up the Almond Joy. You have two choices. You can go back and pay for it or you can take it home. If you take it home, the devil has won and your integrity has suffered. If you go back and pay for it, the devil has lost. Your integrity remains intact. In many cases, it will be much harder to have integrity.

We are all going to have our integrity tested. Some tips to strengthen your integrity include reading your Bible, praying often, and being honest. Let us be people of integrity.

The Seven “I AM” Declarations: Jesus Reveals Himself (Part 2 of 2)

Brent Pollard

In Part 1, we examined the first four “I AM” declarations: Jesus as the Bread of Life who satisfies our deepest hunger, the Light of the World who dispels our darkness, the Door through whom we enter salvation, and the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep. Now we turn to the final three declarations, where Jesus addresses our mortality, our confusion about reaching God, and our need for spiritual vitality.

The Resurrection and the Life (John 11.25)

“I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies.”

Standing before Lazarus’s tomb, Jesus did not say, “I will give you resurrection” or “I believe in resurrection.” He said, “I AM the resurrection and the life.” He is not merely its provider, but its embodiment.

Death seems so final. It is the great enemy that takes everyone we love and awaits us all. But Jesus declares that death has met its match. For those who believe in Him, physical death becomes a doorway, not a dead end. The body may sleep, but the person lives. One day, even the body will be raised.

This is not wishful thinking. John saw Lazarus leave the tomb. The early church witnessed Jesus’ rise. This hope transforms how we face mortality. Death is real, but Christ is ultimate.

The Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14.6)

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through Me.”

In an age of religious pluralism and moral relativism, this verse stands as either supreme arrogance or saving truth. There is no middle ground. Jesus does not claim to show us a way—He claims to be the way. He does not point us toward truth—He is truth incarnate. He does not offer us a program for better living—He is life itself.

The claim is total. He is the Way to God. He is the Truth—God’s final revelation. He is the Life—now and always. Not one of many. Not one voice among teachers. Jesus is the only bridge to God.

This exclusivity may offend modern sensibilities, but it should thrill our seeking souls. For it means salvation is not a maze of a thousand dead ends. It is a straight path. It is Jesus Christ.

The True Vine (John 15.1, 5)

“I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.”

Throughout the Old Testament, Israel was depicted as God’s vine—a recurring metaphor found in passages such as Isaiah 5.1-7 and Psalm 80.8-16, where the nation is described as a vineyard planted and tended by God, intended to produce righteousness and justice as its fruit. However, the prophets repeatedly lamented that Israel failed in this calling, becoming like a wild or unproductive vine and thus disappointing its divine caretaker. Against this rich literary and historical background, Jesus now declares Himself to be the true Vine in John 15; He positions Himself as the faithful and fruitful source of spiritual life that Israel, despite its privileged status, could never fully realize. The “Vine” metaphor here thus carries deeper theological significance: Jesus alone enables true spiritual growth and fruitfulness, succeeding where Israel, as God’s original vine, fell short.

This image teaches us a vital truth: Christianity is an organic connection to Jesus Himself, not simply a matter of performing religious works. The branch does not strain and sweat to produce grapes; it simply remains attached to the vine, which supplies everything needed. Our job is not to manufacture spiritual fruit through sheer willpower, but to abide—to stay connected, remain in fellowship, and continually draw life from Him. The “branch and vine” metaphor shows our dependence on Christ for spiritual growth.

Apart from Him, we can do nothing of eternal value. Connected to Him, we become channels of His life and love to the world around us. This is the secret of the Christian life: not self-improvement, but abiding in Christ.

The Pattern of Grace

Do you see the pattern woven through these seven declarations? Jesus meets us at every point of our deepest need.

We hunger—He is the Bread of Life.

We stumble in darkness—He is the Light of the World.

We need safety—He is the Door.

We are lost and scattered—He is the Good Shepherd.

We face death—He is the Resurrection and the Life.

We are confused about the path to God—He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

We are weak and fruitless—He is the Vine from whom all fruit flows.

But notice something more profound: In every statement, Jesus does not merely give something—He is something. He does not distribute bread; He is Bread. He does not shine a light; He is Light. He does not offer life; He is Life.

This is the great truth that transforms everything: The Christian faith is not primarily about principles to follow or rules to keep. It is about a Person to know. That Person is Christ Himself, offered freely to all who will come, believe, and receive.

The great “I AM” who spoke from the burning bush has spoken again—this time from Galilee, from Golgotha, and from the empty tomb. And He still speaks today to every soul who will listen:

“Come to Me. Follow Me. Enter through Me. Trust Me. Believe in Me. Abide in Me. For I AM.”

The Seven “I AM” Declarations: Jesus Reveals Himself (Part 1 of 2)

Brent Pollard

When Jesus said “I AM,” He opened a door into divinity. God had told Moses His name: “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3.14). That name—stark, eternal—declared self-existence and sovereign being. Centuries later, a carpenter from Nazareth used the same formula seven times in John’s Gospel.

John recorded these statements with a clear and deliberate purpose: to demonstrate that each “I AM” declaration is a signpost affirming both the divine identity and mission of Christ. Rather than serving as random metaphors, these statements specifically articulate how Jesus meets fundamental human needs and discloses what He offers to believers. Together, they form the thesis of John’s Gospel by answering the central question about Jesus’ true identity.

Let us walk through these seven declarations, not as scholars cataloguing data but as souls hungry for the Bread of Life, stumbling in darkness and desperate for Light.

The Bread of Life (John 6.35, 48, 51)

“I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst.”

The multitudes had just eaten their fill of fish and barley loaves. They wanted Jesus as a permanent meal ticket, another Moses who would give daily manna. But Jesus refused to be seen as a mere provider of bread that perishes. He called Himself the true bread from heaven—the source that fills not the stomach but the soul, meeting our deepest need.

We are born hungry for purpose, acceptance, and to fill a God-shaped void. We try to satisfy this hunger with achievements and pleasures. Yet earthly bread leaves us hungry again. Christ alone satisfies because He is life. To come to Him ends our soul’s restlessness.

The Light of the World (John 8.12; 9.5)

“I am the light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.”

Picture Jerusalem during the Feast of Tabernacles, its massive golden lamps blazing in the temple courts, commemorating the pillar of fire that led Israel through the wilderness. Against that backdrop, Jesus makes His audacious claim: I am the true Light.

Darkness in Scripture is never neutral. It represents sin’s blindness, ignorance’s confusion, and the deep despair that comes from separation from God. To walk in darkness means to lack moral direction, to be unable to see or know God, and to experience the guilt and shame that result from this separation.

But Jesus does not merely illuminate the path—He is the path. He does not simply reveal truth—He is truth embodied. When we follow Him, we step out of the shadow of death into the light of life. We see clearly, perhaps for the first time, who God is, who we are, and what life is meant to be.

The Door (John 10.7, 9)

“I am the door; if anyone enters through Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture.”

In the ancient world, a shepherd led his flock into a walled enclosure each night. There was a single opening—no gate, just an entrance. The shepherd would lie across it, making his body the door, a living barrier. No wolf could enter without facing him, and no sheep could slip out unseen. The shepherd as “door” meant protection and the only path to safety.

Jesus claims to be the only true entrance into God’s safety. No one climbs over by achievement. No one sneaks in with rituals. There is no other entrance called “good intentions” or “sincere beliefs.”

The exclusivity of the Door troubles our pluralistic age, but it ought to comfort our souls. For if Jesus is the Door, we know exactly where to enter. We are not left to guess which of a thousand paths might lead to God. We need not wonder whether our efforts are enough. The Door stands open. The Shepherd calls. When we enter through Him, we are saved.

The Good Shepherd (John 10.11, 14)

“I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.”

Israel had sung of the Lord as their Shepherd in Psalm 23. The prophets had condemned Israel’s leaders as faithless shepherds who scattered the flock. Now Jesus claims the title for Himself—and defines it by the cross.

A hired hand flees danger. A false shepherd uses sheep. The Good Shepherd knows His sheep, calls them by name, and lays down His life. The cross was not a tragedy; it was the Shepherd’s choice for His flock.

This is love without parallel. This is commitment beyond measure. And this is why we can trust Him even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Our Shepherd has already been there—and He has conquered it.

In our next article, we will explore the final three “I AM” declarations, where Jesus reveals Himself as the answer to our deepest fears, our greatest confusion, and our spiritual fruitlessness.