Tag: faith

 Gideon: When the Deliverer Becomes the Danger

Brent Pollard

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

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

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

The Dangerous Moment After the Battle

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

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

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

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

To his credit, Gideon refused.

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

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

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

A Nation Looking for a King It Already Had

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

But God had already defined their identity:

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

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

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

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

Gold in the Wrong Hands

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Ephod That Became an Idol

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

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

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

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

But the result was devastating.

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

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

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

When Good Things Become Ultimate Things

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

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

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

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

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

A Private Life That Told the Truth

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

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

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

His mouth said one thing. His life said another.

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

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

What Happened After the Funeral

When Gideon died, the collapse was immediate.

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

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

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

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

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

Five Warnings from Gideon’s Decline

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Reign That Never Fails

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

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

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

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

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

Not Gideon. Not any man. The Lord.

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

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

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

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.

THE MOUNTAIN OF MYSTERY

Dale Pollard

Where is mount Sinai? It’s an important mountain in the Bible but today there’s several different peaks that claim to be the real deal. Let’s dig a little. 

In Galatians 4:25, Paul states:

“Mount Sinai is in Arabia.”

Here’s the thing though. 1st century Arabia did not mean the Sinai Peninsula of Egypt. It was the vast area of Arabia Petraea that included:

• Northwest Saudi Arabia

• The land of Midian

Well now, that last one is a juicy detail because Moses actually lived in Midian for decades (Exodus 2–3). If God met Moses “at the mountain of God” while he was in Midian, the most natural place for Sinai to be is near where Moses had been, not hundreds of miles away. 

There’s more! 

The Bible repeatedly ties Sinai to Midian. Here’s a quick recap: 

  1. Moses flees Egypt, then settles in Midian. 
  2. God appears to Moses at the mountain of God while shepherding there. 
  3. Jethro (a priest of Midian) later visits Israel at Sinai.

If Sinai were deep in the Egyptian Sinai Peninsula, Jethro’s involvement doesn’t make much sense. 

If Sinai were in or near Midian (which is in Arabia), the narrative flows nice and cleanly.

For these reasons, and more— many early Jewish and Christian traditions placed Sinai east of the Gulf of Aqaba.

Sinai had some strange things happening on its peak— just read Exodus 19. There’s thunder, lightning, trumpets blasting, and fire. It’s hard to wrap our minds around exactly what was taking place. 

With all of that history in mind, there’s a site called Jabal al-Lawz. It’s an odd name but it’s a real interesting Candidate.

This mountain seems to have it all, including: 

• A darkened summit

• Nearby ancient stone structures

• Rock art that appears to depict cows 

• Large open plains suitable for a massive encampment

Is it the one? Who knows. Seems like a great place to do more investigation though. 

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? 

Part Two: The Fortress and the River – God Our Satisfaction

Brent Pollard

In our earlier reflection on Psalm 46, we faced a challenging truth: the mountains will quiver, the oceans will roar, and the earth’s very foundations will shake. Nonetheless, amid this universal turmoil, God stays our steadfast refuge. We learned that He comes close during storms rather than in moments of peace, and that what we need most isn’t answers but His presence.

But God provides more than just survival; He not only shelters us from the storm but also sustains us through it. The psalm’s imagery transitions from chaotic turbulence to peaceful abundance, highlighting a deep truth about God’s presence with His people.

The River That Satisfies: God’s Presence as Our True Resource

“There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved.”

The imagery transitions from chaos to serenity, moving from turbulent seas to a peaceful river. This creates a beautiful paradox in the psalm because Jerusalem, unlike Babylon or Egypt, lacked a natural river. Water was scarce, precious, and meticulously collected from cisterns and springs. In Hezekiah’s time, an ingenious tunnel channeled water from the Gihon Spring into the city, serving as a crucial lifeline during the siege.

Yet the psalmist mentions a river that brings joy to the city. It’s not just safe—it’s joyful. Not just protected—but filled with happiness. This is more than simple water. It represents God’s life-giving presence.

As suggested, God is most glorified in us when we find our greatest satisfaction in Him. The river in Psalm 46 symbolizes delight, not utility. Though enemy nations rage like floodwaters threatening to overwhelm, God resides among His people as a calm, sustaining stream of peace. He is both our source of satisfaction and our security.

Jesus later identified Himself as the source of this river: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” (John 7.37-38). The promise isn’t that life will be trouble-free, but that God offers sustenance beyond circumstances during difficult times.

This assurance is highly practical. God’s presence isn’t just an abstract theological idea; it changes how we approach Monday mornings. Knowing God is with us turns panic into peace. Recognizing that He is our source, we cease striving to create our own limited water sources, like cisterns that contain no water (Jeremiah 2.13).

However, Jerusalem’s security was never reliant on its religious infrastructure. The temple alone did not guarantee safety for a rebellious people. The city’s walls offered no protection if hearts were distant from God. It was repentance and prayer, not military tactics, that saved Jerusalem from Assyria’s formidable army. Hezekiah presented Sennacherib’s threatening letter before the Lord and called for deliverance, emphasizing God’s glory over Israel’s safety (2 Kings 19.14-19).

And God responded. At dawn, 185,000 Assyrian soldiers were dead, slain by the Lord’s angel. The enemy retreated without a single arrow being fired from Jerusalem’s defenses. God simply declared, and kingdoms fell.

The Call to Stillness: Surrender as the Path to Strength

“Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

This passage is among Scripture’s most quoted—and often misunderstood—verses. We tend to see it as a calming meditation or a spiritual breath of relief. However, in its original context, it carries a much more challenging message.

The Hebrew phrase literally translates to: “Let go. Cease striving. Stop.” It serves as a divine directive to relinquish our need for control, abandon our frantic attempts to manage outcomes, and surrender the illusion of self-sufficiency.

Modern Christianity often portrays God as a helpful guide for our personal plans. We prefer His blessing on our initiatives instead of surrendering to His greater purposes. We tend to use God rather than worship Him. However, Psalm 46 dispels this arrogance. God will be exalted, regardless of our involvement. The real question is whether we will align with His divine plan or waste our energy resisting it.

“Be still” does not mean passive resignation. Instead, it signifies active trust—opting for dependence rather than independence, faith rather than fear, worship over worry. For fallen humanity, this is the hardest act because it demands that we admit we are not God.

Consider Hezekiah’s prayer again: “Now therefore, O Lord our God, save us from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that You are the Lord God, even You only” (2 Kings 19.19, KJV). Notice the ultimate concern—not Israel’s comfort, but God’s glory. Not merely deliverance, but a demonstration of divine supremacy.

Remember that humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less. Being still means shifting our focus from our troubles to God’s nature, from our frailty to His strength, and from our fears to His unwavering faithfulness.

The psalm concludes by calling God “the God of Jacob,” which should fill us with great hope. Jacob was a cunning and manipulative man, often trying to control events through his own cleverness. Despite this, God stayed faithful to him, changed him, and made him a patriarch. We often act similarly—rushing ahead of God’s timing, trying to grasp what to trust, and strategizing instead of surrendering.

And yet—wonder of wonders—God remains our refuge.

Living in the Fortress

Psalm 46 does not guarantee that mountains won’t shake in our lives if we have enough faith. Instead, it reassures us that God stays unshaken when those shakes happen—and they will. He allows us to face difficult situations, not to harm us, but to show Himself more clearly and to strengthen our faith.

The world takes pride in its chariots, horses, stock portfolios, military strength, technological achievements, and political influence. However, Scripture teaches us that “some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God” (Psalm 20.7). Ultimately, there will be a day when “the Lord alone shall be exalted” (Isaiah 2.11).

Until then, our lives exist between the “already” and the “not yet.” We feel God’s presence as both a fortress and a river—offering protection in times of danger and fulfillment in seasons of dryness. We recognize His strength even as we admit our weakness. Peace comes not from having control over circumstances but from knowing Who is truly in control.

When the earth shakes…  

When nations rage… 

When fear rises within us…

God remains our refuge.  

God remains our strength.  

God remains Immanuel—with us.

And because He is, we can—we must—be still.

In that stillness, we find what frantic activity can never achieve: the actual value of knowing God personally. It’s not just about learning about Him but experiencing Him intimately through dependence, feeling secure in His presence, and delighting in His flowing grace, even during the driest seasons of our lives.

This is not escapism; it is the most practical wisdom for humans. We were created for God, and our hearts stay restless until they find rest in Him.

The fortress remains, the river continues to flow, and God beckons us to come in.

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.

Part One: The Fortress and the River – God Our Refuge

Brent Pollard

Throughout history, some moments feel like the barrier between heaven and earth is unusually thin. These instances cause the eternal to pierce through the temporary so powerfully that even centuries later, their impact is still felt. Psalm 46 is one such moment—born not from theological musings but from a time of national crisis. Martin Luther heard its profound message and responded with “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” Long before the Reformation hymns echoed through European cathedrals, this psalm carried a people through their fear as Assyrian campfires threatened their city walls.

It’s important to remember that Scripture isn’t just a compilation of spiritual rules — it documents God’s interaction with real people in genuine desperation. The message God shared with ancient Jerusalem remains true today: our most profound human need isn’t for solutions, but for His presence.

When Mountains Crumble: The Problem of Cosmic Insecurity

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.”

Note that the psalm does not say, “We should not fear” or “We ought not fear.” Instead, it confidently states: “We will not fear.” This is not just hope; it’s a firm belief rooted in understanding who God is.

The psalmist depicts a scene of complete chaos. Mountains, symbols of stability, melt away like sandcastles at the tide. The seas angrily roar and foam. The very foundations of creation tremble. These vivid images are not just poetic devices; they symbolize natural disasters and political turmoil. In biblical symbolism, raging waters frequently represent hostile nations in chaos (Daniel 7.2-3; Revelation 17.15).

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: our world was never meant to be our final refuge. Because our desires can’t be fully satisfied here, it suggests we were created for another world. We long for stability in a creation that is inherently unstable. We pursue security in systems designed to dissolve. In His mercy, God permits the mountains to shake, guiding us to discover what cannot be shaken.

God draws near to us during storms rather than calm moments. Israel frequently learned this the hard way: in times of peace, they forgot the Lord and turned to idols. When trouble arose, they sought Egyptian alliances instead of divine assistance (Isaiah 30.1-2). They sought rescue and deliverance without a relationship or devotion.

But here is the marvel: God is depicted as an ever-present help—never hesitant, never distant, nor waiting for us to do enough religious acts to gain His notice. He is already present—our refuge, fortress, and shield. The real question is never His availability but our readiness to trust.

We have seen that God engages with us during storms rather than waiting for calm. We’ve recognized that our world was never intended as our ultimate refuge, and that the upheaval of mountains has a compassionate purpose—guiding us toward eternal stability. However, understanding that God is our refuge prompts another question: what does His presence truly offer? Is He only a fortress shielding us from harm, or does He provide something more?

The psalmist’s answer shifts us from merely surviving to finding satisfaction, from simple protection to deep joy. In our next reflection, we’ll see that God’s presence isn’t just about safety—it’s about our greatest delight.

Trust In Trials

Carl Pollard

Daniel was a faithful servant of God. No matter the circumstances, he would put his trust in God. Let us look at how Daniel was faithful to God in all times.

We see Daniel being faithful to God in trials. The other wise men in the kingdom were jealous of Daniel and wanted to have him killed. So they went to the king and asked for a decree to be made that only the king could be prayed to. Daniel trusted in God even though he could have faced dire consequences if he prayed to God. “When Daniel knew that the document had been signed, he went to his house where he had windows in his upper chamber open toward Jerusalem. He got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously. Then these men came by agreement and found Daniel making petition and plea before his God. Then the king commanded, and Daniel was brought and cast into the den of lions. The king declared to Daniel, “May your God, whom you serve continually, deliver you!” And a stone was brought and laid on the mouth of the den, and the king sealed it with his own signet and with the signet of his lords, that nothing might be changed concerning Daniel.” Daniel 6:10-11, 16-17 shows us that even though the king banned prayer to God, Daniel still put his trust in God. 

In our lives today do we show this kind of faith and trust in God? Do we understand the consequences, but stick with God? Many today have a faith that is dependent on the circumstances. But we must be like Daniel. Have a full trust in God to deliver us in our trials and understand that He is in control. 

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.”

Mentorship

Carl Pollard

Every single year, 5.8 billion dollars worth of gift cards go unclaimed. That is wild to me! That money has already been spent. The value is already real. The benefits have already been purchased. And yet, it is never enjoyed. Not because the gift lacked worth, but because no one ever claimed it.

As I read that, I couldn’t help but think about the church. God has already invested in His people. He has already gifted wisdom, experience, maturity, and faith. He has already placed leaders, teachers, servants, and examples among us. And yet, far too often, those gifts go unused. Not because God failed to give them, but because no one was ever taught how to receive them.

Theres a line from an old country song that keeps coming to mind. In the wise and ever relevant words of George Jones, “Who’s gonna fill their shoes?” It is a simple question, but a deeply personal one. When a generation steps aside, when lives come to an end, when the baton must be passed, who will be ready?

Even the business world understands this principle. One hundred percent of the top fifty companies in the United States have formal mentoring programs because they work. Mentored organizations see higher profits, stronger retention, and greater productivity. If mentorship is this powerful for temporary success, imagine its impact on eternal souls!

Mentorship built the church. Jesus didn’t build His kingdom with crowds, but with mentored men. He spent three years walking with imperfect disciples who argued, misunderstood, failed, and ran. Yet He stayed. Mentorship is about presence. Those same men went on to turn the world upside down, and when Jesus ascended, the church did not collapse because someone was ready.

Mentorship is biblical. Paul told Timothy to entrust what he had learned to faithful people who could teach others also. From Eli and Samuel to Paul and Timothy, this is God’s design.

Mentorship is double sided. It requires faithful mentors and humble learners. It blesses both. It strengthens families, deepens faith, and connects generations. It is wonderful to experience the beauty of biblical mentorship! 

One day, every one of us will step aside. The only thing that will remain is what we have passed on. Mentorship is how we refuse to let God’s investment go unclaimed.