Tag: God

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.”

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

Brent Pollard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Light of the World (John 8.12; 9.5)

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

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

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

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

The Door (John 10.7, 9)

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

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

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

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

The Good Shepherd (John 10.11, 14)

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

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

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

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

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

Learning Through A Broken Family

Carl Pollard

My wife and I have been slowly working our way through the story of Jacob and Esau in Genesis 25–36, just the two of us, Bibles open, spending quality time in scripture. We’ve tried to read carefully, letting the text speak for itself without rushing to conclusions. What’s struck us most is how raw and real this family is, flawed people making painful choices, yet God’s bigger plan somehow keeps moving forward through the mess.

The tension between the brothers starts long before they ever speak a word. Even in the womb, they struggle (Genesis 25:22–23), and God tells Rebekah that two nations are inside her, with the older serving the younger. When we read Paul’s reflection on this in Romans 9, it hits home: God’s choice isn’t based on what we do or deserve, it’s His mercy, His call. That truth is a comfort when we’ve felt like our own family patterns or mistakes might derail everything. From the beginning, this story reminds us that God is sovereign, even over dysfunctional beginnings.

Then comes that heartbreaking moment in Genesis 25:29–34 when Esau trades his birthright for a bowl of stew. We’ve talked a lot about how the text doesn’t excuse Jacob’s opportunism, he’s calculating and manipulative, but it lingers on Esau’s choice: he “despised his birthright.” It wasn’t just hunger; it was a deeper disregard for what God had given him. My wife and I have had to ask ourselves hard questions: What do we treat as disposable when we’re tired, stressed, or chasing something immediate? We’ve seen how easy it is to let momentary frustration or desire eclipse what really matters eternally.

Genesis 27 is tough to read aloud. Jacob lies to his blind father, steals the blessing, and runs for his life. There’s no sugarcoating here, no heroic justification. The consequences are immediate and brutal: fear, exile, broken family ties. God’s promise to Jacob holds, but Jacob doesn’t escape the fallout of his sin. That’s been a sobering reminder for us: even when God chooses us, our choices still carry real pain, for ourselves and the people we love.

The turning point is Genesis 32. Jacob wrestles all night with God (or the angel), refuses to let go until he’s blessed, and walks away with both a new name, Israel, and a permanent limp. We’ve come back to that image again and again. Growth rarely comes without struggle; blessing often arrives through humility and dependence. That limp has became a proof that God can transform even the most stubborn parts of the heart.

And then there’s Esau in Genesis 33. Esau runs to meet his brother, throws his arms around him, kisses him, and weeps. After years of hurt, after Jacob’s betrayal, Esau chooses grace. Who in our lives are we still holding resentment toward? What would it look like to run toward reconciliation instead of away from it?

Studying this account together has reminded us that God works patiently through real struggles, through favoritism, deception, exile, and hard-won forgiveness. Growth usually comes slowly, often painfully, but He is faithful to shape us over time. The story of Jacob and Esau encourages us to hold our values loosely for the things of this world, to repent quickly when we’ve wronged others, and to trust God’s good purposes even in the fractured relationships we care about most. We’re grateful for these ancient brothers; they’ve become unexpected companions on our own journey toward humility, healing, and hope.

ONE GOSPEL, MANY RESPONSES

Neal Pollard

The killing of Stephen was the grim harbinger of a new era for the early church, spawned by the actions of the young man introduced to us in Act 7:58. Saul inadvertently helped the church to further its move to do as Jesus foretold, going from Jerusalem to Judea and Samaria (Acts 1:8). Ironically, it would be this man Saul who would help Christianity and the Lord’s church go to “the remotest part of the earth” (Acts 1:8; 13:1ff; Rom. 10:18; Col. 1:23). For now, Saul stands opposed to Christ and His people.

Acts 8 gives us the specifics. He “was in hearty agreement with putting [Stephen] to death” (1). That very day a “great persecution began against the church in Jerusalem” (1), scattering it. While they took time to bury Stephen, Saul “began ravaging the church” (3). This was invasive, violent, and life-altering for Christians, but they responded by “preaching the word” (4).

One of the seven men selected to help the church feed the Grecian widows in Acts 6, Philip, “went down to the city of Samaria and began proclaiming Christ to them” (5). They paid attention to what he said as they saw the signs he performed (6). His deeds were so remarkable that it brought great joy to the city (8), even a renowned magician, Simon, was among the many believers who believed Philip’s preaching and submitted to baptism (9-13). With so many new disciples in the city, word reached the apostles who sent Peter and John to Samaria to lay hands on them so that they would receive the Holy Spirit (14-17). This caught Simon’s eye, as one widely proclaimed in the city as “the Great Power of God” (10), and he sought to buy this gift (18-19). Peter rebukes Simon, urging him to repent of such wickedness so that he might be forgiven (22). Simon was poisoned and enslaved by his unrighteous desire to have the gift possessed by the apostles to cause faith in the gospel (23-24). 

There is only one message being shared by Philip and the other Christians. It is called “the word” (4), “proclaiming Christ” (5), and “preaching the good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ” (12). Yet, there are three distinct responses to that singular gospel. Saul represents one response–hatred, opposition, and violence. Simon represents another–an opportunity to enrich and exalt self. The Samaritans represent yet another–faith, obedience, and rejoicing. It is incredible that this one message could elicit such diverse reactions from different people, but it still happens that way today.

Some are totally turned off by the message, others want to use it for personal means, and still others are deeply convicted by its truth and desire to follow it. Our job is not to judge who is or isn’t worthy recipients; instead, as they did in Acts 8, we are to spread it. It is still God’s power to save believers (Rom. 1:16). We leave that part to Him. Our part is to preach and proclaim it. 

Romans 13: Respect Caesar, Surrender to Christ

Brent Pollard

Christians often experience an inner tension when considering their relationship with civil government. We belong to a heavenly kingdom whose values frequently stand in sharp contrast to the world around us, yet we remain citizens of earthly nations—subject to laws, rulers, and civic obligations that demand our attention and participation. Scripture does not ignore this tension. Instead, God’s Word provides principles that help believers navigate their dual citizenship with clarity, humility, and unwavering faith.

The apostle Paul reminds us that entering the brotherhood of Christ does not sever our connection to the broader human community. While the church thrives on humility and sacrificial love, the civil sphere requires submission to authority and the pursuit of justice toward our fellow citizens. Far from being contradictory, these obligations are complementary expressions of Christian discipleship lived out in the real world.

Why Christians Should Submit to Government: The Practical Case (Romans 13.1-4)

Paul opens his instruction with a command that echoes through the centuries: “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities” (Romans 13.1). This is not blind compliance but thoughtful, conscientious obedience rooted in practical wisdom.

At the most basic level, civil government exists to accomplish specific purposes: promoting order, restraining wrongdoing, and encouraging what is beneficial to society. “For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad,” Paul writes. “Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval” (Romans 13.3). Laws—when rightly administered—serve the common good, providing the stability and protection necessary for human flourishing.

Think of it this way: A ship requires a captain, a household requires order, and a society requires governance. Without structure, chaos reigns. Roads crumble, courts fail, emergency services disappear, and defense collapses. These necessities do not materialize from thin air—they require resources, planning, and the coordinated effort that only organized government can provide.

It is reasonable, then, for Christians to obey the law in their general conduct. Lawful behavior benefits both the individual and the community. Similarly, paying taxes and other civic dues is not merely a burden imposed by the state but a contribution toward maintaining public order and security (Romans 13.6-7).

Yet Scripture presses us beyond mere outward compliance. Paul speaks of rendering “to all what is owed to them: taxes to whom taxes are owed, revenue to whom revenue is owed, respect to whom respect is owed, honor to whom honor is owed” (Romans 13.7). Even in civil matters, the heart must be engaged. Respect for authority is not simply about avoiding penalties; it reflects an inner disposition shaped by reverence and integrity. Mechanical obedience—though better than rebellion—falls short of what God expects from His children.

The Higher Foundation: God’s Sovereignty Over All Authority (Romans 13.1-2)

While practical reasoning can justify civic obedience—the desire to avoid fines and penalties—the Christian’s motivation runs far deeper. Submitting to governing authorities is not just sensible; it is divinely commanded. Paul declares the foundation plainly: “For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment” (Romans 13.1-2).

This is the bedrock truth that transforms civic duty from pragmatic necessity into spiritual worship: God Himself stands behind human authority. The Old Testament confirms this reality throughout its pages. Job declares that God “makes nations great, and destroys them; He enlarges nations, and leads them away” (Job 12.23). Daniel proclaims that “the Most High rules the kingdom of men and gives it to whom he will” (Daniel 4.25; see also Daniel 2:21). Even pagan rulers exercise power only because God, in His inscrutable wisdom, has permitted it.

Nebuchadnezzar learned this lesson the hard way. This mighty king was humbled—literally driven to eat grass like an animal—until he acknowledged that “the Most High rules in the kingdom of men and gives it to whom He will” (Daniel 4.32). Jesus Himself reminded Pontius Pilate, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above” (John 19.11).

These passages confront us with a stunning reality: No government rises or falls apart from God’s providence. Authority is not a purely human invention or the result of social contracts alone. It exists because God, in His sovereign wisdom, has ordained the structures necessary to maintain order in a fallen world. To resist lawful authority without biblical cause, therefore, is not merely to defy human institutions but to rebel against the divine order God has established.

This does not mean that every action of every ruler is morally right or that Christians owe absolute obedience to human commands. Scripture itself records moments when obedience to God required civil disobedience—when Peter declared, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5.29), or when Hebrew midwives defied Pharaoh’s infanticide (Exodus 1.17). But these are exceptions that prove the rule. The default posture of the believer is submission, not suspicion; respect, not rebellion; honor, not contempt.

How to Honor Imperfect Rulers: Seeing God’s Hand in Human Government (Romans 13.4)

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of Paul’s teaching is learning to see God’s hand at work in imperfect—even deeply flawed—human institutions. This requires spiritual vision that penetrates beyond the visible to the invisible.

Rulers are fallible. Governments make unjust decisions. Leaders disappoint us. Yet Paul wrote these very words to Christians living under Nero, one of history’s most despicable tyrants, a man who would soon ignite the first great persecution of the church. Still, Paul calls him “God’s servant for your good” and “the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer” (Romans 13.4).

How can this be? Because God’s purposes transcend human wickedness. He uses even unjust rulers to accomplish His sovereign will—sometimes through their good actions, sometimes despite their evil ones. Joseph understood this when he told his brothers, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50.20). God’s ability to work all things together for His glory does not excuse human sin, but it does mean that no human ruler operates outside the boundaries of divine providence.

This perspective transforms how we engage with civil authority. When Christians obey the law, pay their taxes, and show honor to those in positions of leadership, they do so not merely for pragmatic reasons or from servile fear, but as an act of reasonable service. Paul emphasizes this: “Therefore one must be in subjection, not only to avoid God’s wrath but also for the sake of conscience” (Romans 13.5). Civic responsibility becomes a spiritual discipline. The ordinary duties of citizenship are transformed into opportunities to glorify God.

This biblical vision guards us against two opposite errors. On one side, we avoid the idolatry of placing ultimate hope in governments, political parties, or charismatic leaders. On the other side, we reject the cynicism that treats all authority with contempt and every civic obligation with resentment. Instead, we acknowledge government’s limited but real role under God’s greater rule, participating faithfully while keeping our ultimate citizenship in heaven (Philippians 3.20).

Living as Citizens of Two Kingdoms: Practical Steps for Today

The Christian life does not retreat from the public square—it redeems it. Just as Paul instructs us to do everything “to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10.31), our civic engagement is part of our Christian walk. Here are practical ways to live out Romans 13 in our daily lives:

First, cultivate a posture of respect. Even when you disagree with policies or disapprove of leaders, maintain respectful speech and behavior. Remember that God has placed them in authority, however temporarily (1 Timothy 2.1-2).

Second, fulfill your civic duties faithfully. Pay your taxes honestly and completely. Obey traffic laws. Serve on juries when called. Vote thoughtfully and prayerfully. These mundane acts become sacred when done “as to the Lord” (Colossians 3.23).

Third, pray consistently for those in authority. Paul commands us to pray “for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way” (1 Timothy 2.2). Prayer acknowledges God’s sovereignty while interceding for His purposes in government.

Fourth, know when to say no. While submission is the rule, obedience to God takes precedence when human laws directly contradict divine commands. But let this be a last resort, exercised with wisdom, humility, and willingness to accept the consequences (Acts 5.29; Daniel 3.16-18).

Finally, maintain your eternal perspective. Governments will rise and fall. Political parties will gain and lose power. Leaders will come and go. But the throne of heaven remains unshaken. Our hope rests not in Washington, London, or any earthly capital, but in the New Jerusalem where Christ reigns eternally.

The Christian Difference in a Polarized Age

In an era of bitter political polarization, pervasive mistrust of institutions, and constant outrage, Christians have a unique opportunity to model a radically different spirit—one marked by humility, respect, and unshakable confidence in God’s sovereignty.

We can disagree without demonizing. We can advocate without idolizing. We can submit without compromising our ultimate allegiance to Christ. This is not weakness but strength—the strength that comes from knowing that “the king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will” (Proverbs 21.1).

Paul’s words in Romans 13 invite us into this paradox: We submit to earthly authority precisely because we belong to a heavenly kingdom. We honor human rulers precisely because we worship the King of Kings. We engage politically precisely because our citizenship is ultimately elsewhere.

And because God reigns—truly reigns, not as a distant concept but as the living Lord who governs nations and guides history—His people can submit without fear, obey without resentment, and honor without compromise, trusting that the Most High still rules in the kingdom of men.

This is how Christians navigate the tension between heaven and earth: not by escaping the world, but by bringing the kingdom’s values into it; not by grasping for power, but by wielding influence through faithful presence; not by placing ultimate hope in any government, but by honoring all governments under the Government of God Himself.

In this way, even our relationship with earthly authorities becomes a testimony to the reign of our heavenly King.

Be Reconciled

Carl Pollard

Some things are hard to put back together once they’re broken. A cracked phone screen never feels the same. A bent fishing hook won’t hold like it once did. And a fractured relationship, especially one hurt by betrayal or deep pain, can feel impossible to restore. We live in a world where “cutting people off” is often celebrated as self-care. But Scripture introduces us to a word that runs against our instincts: reconciliation.

Reconciliation is not the same as avoidance, denial, or pretending nothing happened. Biblically, reconciliation is the restoration of what was broken. And like many things in life, reconciliation only works when the right elements are brought together. Mix pride with reconciliation, and it fails. Mix bitterness with reconciliation, and it becomes poisonous. But when reconciliation is mixed with humility, repentance, and grace, something powerful happens.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:18–19 that “all things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ.” Notice the direction. We did not reconcile ourselves to God; God took the initiative. While we were still sinners (Romans 5:10), Christ died for us. That truth sets the standard for how reconciliation works among people. It always begins with grace, not merit.

In the first century, reconciliation was not theoretical for Christians, it was costly. Jews and Gentiles, divided by centuries of hostility, were now being called “one body” in Christ (Ephesians 2:14–16). Paul says that Christ “destroyed the barrier” and made peace through the cross. The cross didn’t ignore sin; it dealt with it fully. True reconciliation never minimizes wrong, it addresses it through truth and sacrifice. 

This is where we often struggle. We want peace without repentance, unity without humility, and forgiveness without discomfort. But biblical reconciliation requires a change of heart. Jesus teaches that if your brother sins, there must be confrontation (Matthew 18:15). Reconciliation doesn’t mean enabling sin; it means pursuing restoration God’s way.

As Christians, we are not only reconciled people, we are entrusted with the “ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18). That means our words, attitudes, and actions should reflect the God who restored us. Harboring resentment while claiming fellowship with God is a contradiction (1 John 4:20).

Reconciliation is not easy. It costs pride. It demands forgiveness. Sometimes it requires patience and boundaries. But it is always worth it, because it mirrors the gospel itself. Let us be careful to practice reconciliation the way God designed it, rooted in truth, powered by grace, and aimed at restoration.

Origen’s “On First Principles” (Book II, Ch. 5.2)

Gary Pollard

[This is a continuing translation of Origen’s systematic theology in modern language]

First of all, they should be required—by their own definitions—to show, if they can, that the Creator is just in punishing people strictly according to what they deserve: those who perished in the flood, the inhabitants of Sodom, or those who left Egypt. We often see crimes committed today that are more wicked and horrible than those attributed to these earlier people, but we don’t see every sinner immediately punished. 

Will they say, then, that the Creator, who was once just, later became good? Or will they claim instead that he’s still justice-oriented now, but is patient with human sinfulness. At that earlier time, though, was he was not even justice-oriented, since he killed innocent infants along with the violent and ungodly adults? Such conclusions arise because they do not know how to understand scripture beyond the literal level. Otherwise they would be able to explain how it is literally morally right for punishments to be “inflicted on your children to the third and fourth generation.” We do not understand such statements in a crude, literal way. Following the example of Ezekiel and his parables, we seek the deeper meaning contained within them.

They must also explain how God can be justice-oriented (rewarding each according to what they deserve) if he punishes earthly-minded people or even the devil himself, when (according to their theory) these beings weren’t capable of any action other than evil. For if they were created with a corrupt and ruined nature, as they claim, then they were incapable of doing good. In that case, God would appear to judge natures, not actions. But if a bad nature cannot do good, and a good nature cannot do evil, then reward and punishment become meaningless.

Next, if the God whom they call good is truly good to everyone, then he must also be good to those who are said to perish. Why, then, does he not save them? If he has no desire to save them, he is no longer good. If he wants to save them but cannot, then he’s not all-powerful. Why don’t they listen instead to the Father of our master Jesus Christ in the Gospels, who prepares fire for the devil and his angels? How, according to their view, can such a severe and sorrowful judgment be attributed to the good God?

Even the savior Himself—the Son of this so-called good God—declares that if miracles had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But when he comes near their territory, he deliberately does not enter those cities or perform those signs for them. Why not, if it were certain that they would repent? By refraining from doing so, he leaves them to destruction—even though the Gospel itself testifies that they were capable of repentance, and therefore not irredeemably corrupt by nature. Consider also the parable in which the king enters to inspect the guests at the wedding feast and finds one man without proper wedding garments. He says to him, “Friend, how did you come in here without a wedding garment?” and then orders his servants, “Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer darkness; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Let them tell us: who is this king? Is he the same God whom they call just? If so, why did he first command that both good and bad alike be invited, without having the servants examine their worthiness? Such behavior reflects not a God who judges strictly according to deserts, but one who extends generosity indiscriminately. If this parable must be understood as referring to the good God—whether Christ himself or the Father of Christ—what further objection can they raise against divine justice? Indeed, what judgment do they accuse the God of the law of rendering that is more severe than ordering a man—invited freely along with others—to be bound hand and foot and cast into outer darkness because he was found unprepared?

IRONY IN JOB

Dale Pollard

In Job you find all kinds of interesting things like references to the earth’s rotation (Job 38.14), ocean floor vents (38.16), and even the movement of star clusters like the Pleiades (38.31).

But, there are a couple of powerful verses that also include a heavy dose of irony.

“Oh, that my words were recorded, that they were written on a scroll, that they were inscribed with an iron tool on lead, or engraved in rock forever!”

Job 19.23-24

A moment in the middle of Job’s pain and agony he seems to cry out those words, but they’re buried under many other laments and arguments concerning his terrible situation. The reader, though, already knows all of this because later in life Job wrote down his pain, questions, and his defense– on a scroll and engraved them forever. Just like he wanted!

Well, he desired to be remembered accurately. Job isn’t just venting. He wants future readers to know that his suffering was real and that his struggle with God came from a good place of honesty, not rebellion. An eternal scroll was proof that his story mattered to God, but also a reminder that God could in fact hear every word at a time when he felt like God couldn’t.

At the same time, this moment shows Job’s faith wrestling out in the open for all of us to benefit from. He believed that truth ultimately matters, even if it is not recognized right away. Ironically, Job’s wish is fulfilled. His words are preserved and read thousands of years later. What felt like a desperate plea is turned into his story of suffering before God that wasn’t wasted. God hears it all and answers every cry of confusion, and He can turn it into a lasting story of faith.

What Are You Waiting For?

Neal Pollard

Betty Kellenberger of Carson City, Michigan, has become something of an instant celebrity. Google her name and you’ll find endless articles devoted to this remarkable woman’s unprecedented achievement. On September 12, 2025, Betty did what only 1 in 4 people (out of around 3000) do every year. She completed the Appalachian Trail, all 2200 miles of it. She averaged about ten miles per day on the trail. Did I mention she did it alone? And that she’s 80 years old? She became the oldest woman to complete this feat!

The dream to do this was sparked for Betty when she was 14 years old, reading about the trail in her Weekly Reader magazine at school. She always wanted to do it, but never seemed to get around to it. After retiring as a teacher, she began to talk to herself and reason that if she was going to do it she needed to get started. Once she made up her mind, she had to overcome health problems, knee replacement surgery, and Hurricane Helene.

Betty gave some advice for people who may be contemplating some dream or aspiration, but hesitate to try.

  • Start sensibly.
  • Study (learn as much as you can about the goal you want to accomplish).
  • Find a buddy.
  • Stay active and stay involved.

(information and picture via Rachel Nania, AARP.org).

Have you been putting off something you know you should do for Christ? It’s easy to talk ourselves out of things, especially hard things. When challenged, we trot out our excuses–our intellect, our resources, our fears, even our age. Yet, we carry our regrets with us through life knowing we should be aiming higher. The Bible is full of people who dared greatly for God despite their limitations.

  • Moses led an entire nation on a 40 year hike through the wilderness at the age of 80, and that was only one of his limitations (Exodus 4:10).
  • Caleb was 85 when he conquered his mountain in Canaan (Joshua 14:6-14).
  • Ruth was a poor, foreign widow.
  • David was just a youth (1 Samuel 17:33).
  • The woman who gave all she had to live on was a poor widow (Mark 12:41-44).
  • Mephibosheth was handicapped (2 Samuel 9).
  • Paul had a thorn in his flesh (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).
  • Joseph, Jeremiah, and Timothy had much asked of them when they were only youths.
  • Rahab had the stigma of being a prostitute (Joshua 2; Hebrews 11:31).
  • John Mark had abandoned his coworkers (Acts 13).

What good thing for God are you avoiding or procrastinating? Take Betty’s advice. Start sensibly, but get going! Study about it, but then act on it. Find a buddy, and get them to do it with you. Resolve to stay active and involved, and never quit until you cannot go on! You’ll never regret it!

Beyond Doomscrolling: How God Equips Us to Slay Giants

Brent Pollard

The Temptation to Feed on Fear

In this high-stakes election year, with our nation more tribalized than perhaps any time in recent memory, the core issue we face is a widespread habit: “doomscrolling.” This compulsive, endless consumption of negative news and distressing online content feeds anxiety, nurtures fear, and starves the soul of hope. First popularized during the COVID-19 pandemic, doomscrolling amounts to voluntary imprisonment in a cell of manufactured despair. To resist fear and reclaim perspective, we must rely on faith, deliberate thought, and God’s Word—tools that equip us for the challenges and Goliaths of our time.

The Christian response to such darkness must be light. We must make Philippians 4.6-8 not merely familiar, but our constant companion. Through prayer, we banish anxiety; through deliberate focus on what is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, and excellent, we reclaim our thoughts from the enemy’s propaganda machine. Where the world offers an endless stream of catastrophe, God offers peace that surpasses understanding (Philippians 4.7).

Light-Scrolling and Ancient Warfare

It was through such positive scrolling—what we might call “light-scrolling”—that I encountered a video by someone calling himself “The Nerdy Christian.” His observation about David and Goliath arrested my attention and challenged assumptions I had carried for years. Like many, I had viewed this famous contest as ending in David’s victory solely through God’s direct intervention. Yet history reveals a more nuanced truth, making the story even richer.

The sling was no child’s toy. It was among the most fearsome weapons of the ancient world—a fact the Romans learned to their horror. When Hannibal crossed the Alps with his war elephants and stood at Rome’s gates, he brought 2,000 slingers whose skill was legendary. At the Battle of Cannae, one of Rome’s most devastating defeats, a slinger’s stone struck the consul Lucius Aemilius Paullus, inflicting wounds that led to his death. The mighty Republic that would eventually rule the Mediterranean nearly fell before the whirring death delivered by stones and leather straps.

The Insult Was Not in the Weapon

When Goliath taunted David, his words dripped with contempt—but not contempt for the sling itself. “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” (1 Samuel 17.43 NASB). The sting lay not in dismissing the weapon, but in the absurdity of a shepherd boy, dressed in farm clothes and carrying pastoral tools, presuming to face a champion warrior. A proper opponent would bear the armor and weapons Saul had attempted to strap onto David’s young frame (1 Samuel 17.38-39). To Goliath, it was as if someone had sent a farmhand with a crook to chase off a trained predator.

But what the giant in his arrogance failed to perceive, David understood with crystalline clarity: God had been preparing him for this moment through every ordinary day he had spent in the fields.

The Physics of Faith

Slingers were crucial to the armies of the ancient Near East, Greece, and Rome. Their effectiveness was rooted in simple physics—the high kinetic energy produced by rotational motion and release velocity. When 1 Samuel 17.49 describes the stone sinking into Goliath’s forehead, it aligns perfectly with natural laws. The stone would have fractured the giant’s skull, perhaps punching clear through to lodge itself in the wound. This created the impression of “sinking” into the flesh.

What the armored Goliath seems to have overlooked was the relative thinness of skin and bone protecting the brain. The practiced David, who had spent years perfecting his aim against predators, knew precisely where to deliver the lethal blow. He didn’t need God to bend the laws of nature. God had already woven into creation the very physics that would bring down the blasphemer.

Does this rob the story of its wonder? Far from it. This understanding actually deepens our appreciation for how God works.

Providence in the Pasture

Though God did not need to perform a supernatural miracle at the moment of combat, His providence had followed David throughout his youth like a shepherd follows his flock. That providence established a pattern, a precedent upon which faith could firmly stand. As David himself declared before the king, God had given him strength to defeat lions and bears that threatened his sheep (1 Samuel 17.34-37). The same covenant-keeping God who delivered him from those fierce beasts would deliver him from this uncircumcised Philistine who dared mock the living God and His people.

Here we glimpse a profound truth about divine preparation: God uses the mundane to equip us for the momentous. David’s years in obscurity, mastering a weapon most would consider beneath a warrior’s dignity, became the very foundation for his greatest victory. His faithfulness in small things—protecting defenseless sheep from predators—prepared him for great things. He protected defenseless Israel from the champion of Gath.

More Than the Mundane

The Nerdy Christian rightly observed that God will use the ordinary experiences of our lives to equip us for extraordinary callings. Yet we must not stop there. Otherwise, we truncate the full counsel of Scripture. God has not limited Himself to using only the mundane to prepare His people for battle.

Consider Paul’s instruction to Timothy: “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3.16-17 NASB). God has given us His very words—not merely as historical record or moral guideline, but as comprehensive equipment for “every good work.” Peter echoes this truth when he reminds us that God’s divine power “has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness, through the true knowledge of Him” (2 Peter 1.3 NASB). The context reveals that this knowledge comes through the Gospel itself.

And what is this Gospel? Paul declares it to be “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes” (Romans 1.16 NASB). The Greek word translated “power” isdunamis (δύναμις)—the very word from which Alfred Nobel derived the name for his explosive invention: dynamite.

Yes, the Gospel is God’s dynamite.

Weapons Divinely Powerful

Listen to how Paul describes this explosive power that God places in our hands: “For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses. We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ” (2 Corinthians 10.3-5 NASB).

Scripture itself is the sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6.17), sharper than any two-edged blade. It pierces to the division of soul and spirit, discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4.12). Where David carried five smooth stones from the brook, we carry the eternal Word that spoke worlds into existence. Where David’s sling could fell one giant, God’s Word can topple every fortress of falsehood that exalts itself against truth.

Equipped for Every Giant

The giants we face today seldom wear bronze armor or carry spears like weaver’s beams. They come disguised as anxiety scrolling through our feeds. They come in the form of speculations that undermine faith, as lofty arguments against the knowledge of God. They appear in the culture’s contempt for biblical truth, in our own wavering doubts, in the thousand small compromises that would diminish our devotion.

But God has equipped us to face them all. Through the mundane experiences of life, He builds practical skills in us. He builds tested faith. Through the profound truth of His Word, He arms us with weapons divinely powerful. Through the Gospel’s explosive force, He gives us everything pertaining to life and godliness.

The question is never whether God has equipped us. The question is whether we will, like David, step forward in faith with the tools He has provided. Refuse the ill-fitting armor of human wisdom. Trust instead in the name of the Lord of hosts whom we serve (1 Samuel 17.45).

The Witness of Preparation

When we immerse ourselves in Scripture daily, its truth shapes our thoughts and guides our steps. Something remarkable happens. We discover we can indeed slay every evil giant we face. As we grow deeper in a relationship with our Savior, others will take note—just as the religious leaders noticed about the apostles—that we have been with Jesus (Acts 4.13).

This is God’s way: to prepare us through providence, equip us through His Word, and empower us through His Spirit. He takes shepherd boys and makes them giant-slayers. He takes fishermen and makes them fishers of men. He takes ordinary believers and uses them to turn the world upside down (Acts 17.6).

The giants still taunt. The enemy still rages. But we need not doomscroll through catalogs of catastrophe, rehearsing reasons for despair. Instead, let us take up the weapons God has forged for us—both the practical skills refined through faithful living and the spiritual sword that is His eternal Word. Let us step forward, not in our own strength, but in the name of the God who has covenanted with His people. And let us remember: the battle belongs to the Lord (1 Samuel 17.47). He uses the weak things of this world to shame the strong, that no flesh should glory in His presence (1 Corinthians 1.27-29).

In Christ, we are more than conquerors (Romans 8.37). Every giant will fall. When we resist the culture of fear and trust in the practical skills God builds in us and the explosive power of His Word, we are equipped for every challenge. In this way, the world will know that there is a God in spiritual Israel (1 Samuel 17.46; Romans 9.6-8).

Origen’s “On First Principles” (Book II, Ch. 5.1)

Gary Pollard

Since some people give weight to the claim made by the leaders of the heresy we are discussing (i.e. they established a division between justice and goodness, and have even applied this division to divine things) we have to respond to them as briefly as possible.

They argue that the Father of our master Jesus Christ is a good God but not a just one, while the God of the law and the prophets is just but not good. According to them, goodness consists in granting benefits to everyone indiscriminately, even those who are unworthy and undeserving of kindness. But in my judgment, they misapply this definition because they assume that suffering and hardship aren’t beneficial at all. 

Justice, on the other hand, they define as the quality that assigns to each person what he deserves. Yet here too they misunderstand their own definition. They assume that justice means sending evils upon the wicked and benefits upon the righteous. The just God appears to not care about the good of the wicked at all, but to act toward them with something like hostility.

To support this view they collect examples from the Old Testament where divine judgment is described: the punishment of the flood and the destruction of those who perished in it; the overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah by fire and brimstone; and the deaths of the people in the wilderness because of their sins, so that none who came out of Egypt entered the promised land except Joshua and Caleb. By contrast, from the New Testament they assemble sayings marked by mercy and compassion, which Jesus used to train his disciples. They appeal especially to the statement that “no one is good except God alone,” and on this basis they dare to call the Father of Jesus Christ the good God, while asserting that the God who made the world is another deity altogether—whom they describe as just, but not good.

Look Deeper

Neal Pollard

While ancient writers like Origen have been rightly criticized for their overcommitment to an allegorical interpretation of Scripture (every book, often every verse, person and event, being interpreted as having a hidden, deeper, and moral meaning), the Bible is rightly known as “the deep things of God” (1 Cor. 2:10). One of the major synonyms of the gospel in the New Testament is “the mystery” (Rom. 16:25; Eph. 3:3-5; Col. 1:26; etc.). Jesus often couched His teaching in parables, “And He was saying to [the apostles], “To you has been given the mystery of the kingdom of God, but those who are outside get everything in parables, so that while seeing, they may see and not perceive, and while hearing, they may hear and not understand, otherwise they might return and be forgiven” (Mark 4:11-12). In many ways, Scripture teaches that while truth is so often easy and knowable (John 8:32), there are “some things hard to be understood” (2 Pet. 3:16).

One of the major impediments to our comprehension is us! If we are truly interested in knowing something, most of us have the mental capacity and faculties to learn it. Without that incentive, however, we often see without perceiving and hear without understanding. At times, we can let prejudices and preconceptions serve as barriers between ourselves and accepting Bible truths. Paul addresses some like this in 2 Corinthians. They apparently believed in the Old Testament but they could not see Christ in it. Paul describes them in this way, that “their minds were hardened” (3:14) and “a veil lies over their heart” (3:15). While Paul is illustrating this truth by referring to the time Moses came down from Sinai with the tablets of stone, it applies to more than those who could not see Christ in the Old Testament (3:15). 

Paul says, “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, in whose case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (4:3-4). He reveals the condition of those who refuse to seek God’s will in His Word: “perishing.” He reveals the cause of their resistance: “the god of this world.” He reveals the consequences of their resistance: “unbelieving.” He reveals the cost of their resistance: “not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ.” 

The Bible is an understandable book, but we must apply ourselves. We must not only read, but meditate (Ps. 1:2; 119:97), search (John 5:39; 1 Pet. 1:10), pursue (1 Tim. 6:11), seek and search (Pr. 2:4), be diligent (2 Tim. 2:15), incline our hearts (1 Ki. 8:58), and really be ready to do whatever it takes to grasp the message of Scripture. So often, it is not that the Bible is conceptually difficult. Instead, we discern a cost or a call for change. That’s when it becomes difficult to open our hearts and submit ourselves to divine truth. But, if we will be the blessed person David describes in Psalm one or the person Paul describes as turning to the Lord and being transformed, we must commit to always looking deeper to know what God would have us to do. Be encouraged! “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. ‘For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened'” (Mat. 7:7-8). 

The Danger of Tradition: When Human Custom Replaces God’s Word

Brent Pollard

The Unexpected Birth of a Christmas Tradition

Christmas Day 2025 has already passed. In Japan, where Shinto and Buddhism are part of daily life, Jesus Christ is often seen as just one deity among many—if acknowledged at all. As a result, most Japanese do not observe Christmas as a religious holiday on December 25. Instead, the holiday has become a romantic occasion for couples, more like Valentine’s Day than a Nativity celebration. Interestingly, since the 1970s, a tradition has persisted: to properly celebrate Christmas in Japan, people should eat fried chicken, especially from KFC.

This story shows how easily tradition can take hold in fertile ground. Takeshi Okawara, Japan’s first KFC manager, allegedly heard foreigners complain that turkey was hard to find in Japan, so they had to settle for chicken during Christmas. This casual remark inspired an idea. Okawara saw a chance to promote “party barrels” as the perfect Christmas celebration. Since Japan didn’t have strong Christmas customs, KFC found a valuable niche in the food industry, which was exactly what the franchise needed to grow.

How Marketing Became Tradition

In 1974, KFC Japan introduced its famous Kurisumasu ni wa Kentakkii! campaign—”Kentucky for Christmas!” The campaign’s success surpassed expectations. By 2019, around 5% of KFC Japan’s yearly revenue came from Christmas sales. During the holidays, customers must pre-order their party barrels weeks ahead since they sell out fast. Long lines form outside locations featuring Colonel Sanders statues dressed as Santa Claus, blending commercial symbols in a way that might surprise Western observers.

If you asked the Japanese about their Christmas tradition, they’d surely say fried chicken is the holiday’s proper food. Many are surprised to learn Americans eat turkey, not KFC, on Christmas. Interestingly, young Japanese now prefer KFC for Christmas because their grandparents started this practice long ago. In only 51 years, what started as a marketing stunt has become a genuine part of Japanese culture.

The Innocence of Cultural Misunderstanding

Japan’s misinterpretation of Christmas customs is harmless—simply a mistaken understanding of cultural practices far removed from their roots. However, this highlights a deeper spiritual risk that requires our careful reflection. We tend to be creatures of habit, often confusing familiarity with genuine faithfulness. What starts as an innovation by one generation can quickly become a duty for the next, leading us to forget to question whether our actions are truly aligned with the truth.

When Jesus Confronted Tradition

However, some customs require our careful attention. Jesus Christ sharply criticized the religious leaders of His era because they forsook God’s commandments to prioritize their traditions (Matthew 15:3; Mark 7:8-9, 13). His words resonate through time: “You are experts at setting aside the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition.” (Mark 7.9 NASB95)

If you had asked these leaders about their practices, they probably would have confidently claimed that their traditions fully aligned with Moses’ Law. These customs, after all, had been preserved through generations of faithful Jews, supported by the weight of history and validated by respected teachers. Certainly, this alone demonstrated their legitimacy.

The Sovereignty of God’s Word Over Human Custom

Yet Jesus, with divine authority, revealed how these traditions deviated from His Father’s original commands. This offers a serious warning to all generations of believers. God’s sovereignty extends not only to salvation but to every aspect of worship and obedience. We do not decide what pleases God through majority opinion or tradition. God has spoken, and His Word alone is authoritative (2 Timothy 3.16-17).

The Pharisees believed that their detailed fence laws safeguarded God’s commands, but in reality, these traditions became obstacles that kept people from approaching God as He intended. They overlooked—or never understood—that God requires genuine obedience, not just the outward observance of religious rituals (1 Samuel 15.22; Hosea 6:6).

The Call to Examine Our Own Practices

This is more than just a history lesson for our curiosity. Let us take the core message of the application: Which traditions have we accepted uncritically? What practices do we maintain just because they have always been done that way, rather than because of the commands or approval in Scripture?

We need to regularly reassess our traditions and practices to confirm they reflect the truth—Jesus Himself stated that God’s Word is truth (John 17.17). The religious leaders during Jesus’ era were so immersed in their traditions that they failed to recognize how far they had strayed from God’s revealed will. Today, we encounter the same risk.

Practical Steps for Guarding Against Empty Tradition

We shouldn’t just recognize this danger; we need to take concrete measures to protect against it. This is advice for every Christian who aims to worship God in spirit and truth (John 4.24):

Begin by cultivating the habit of asking, “Where is this written?” When someone claims that a practice is vital to Christian faith or worship, consult the Scriptures to verify if it truly is (Acts 17.11). The Bereans were praised not for blindly accepting teachings but for diligently testing them against God’s Word.

Second, differentiate clearly between issues of faith and issues of opinion. Romans 14 directly addresses this, indicating that certain practices are explicitly commanded or forbidden and must be followed. Other issues are part of Christian liberty, allowing sincere believers to hold different views without opposing God’s will. Confusing these categories can result in legalism or license—both serious mistakes.

Third, understand that sincerity alone does not justify mistakes. The Pharisees sincerely believed their traditions honored God. However, genuine sincerity does not turn disobedience into obedience or human customs into divine laws. As Proverbs 14.12 NASB95 states, “There is a way which seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.”

The Spiritual Reality Behind Religious Performance

Religious tradition often serves as a substitute for a genuine relationship with God. It is much simpler to follow inherited rituals than to develop a meaningful connection with the living God. While tradition calls for mere conformity, authentic worship requires transformation.

Reflect on how we often find comfort in familiar routines. The Pharisees felt secure in their traditions because these practices were predictable, controllable, and measurable. They could simply check off requirements and think they were righteous, all while neglecting God’s Word in their hearts. Jesus highlighted this superficial religiosity: “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far away from me. But in vain do they worship Me, teaching as doctrines the precepts of men” (Matthew 15.8-9 NASB95).

The Origin and Significance of Our Traditions

It’s crucial to honestly consider where our traditions originate and what they truly mean. Are they rooted in Scripture, or have they developed through cultural choices, historical happenstance, or well-meaning but unauthorized changes?

Some traditions are simply matters of convenience or custom—neither mandated nor prohibited by Scripture. We may choose to keep or change them based on wisdom. However, when tradition conflicts with Scripture or supersedes God’s actual commands, we must have the courage to set aside human traditions and follow divine authority.

The religious leaders Jesus challenged had broken God’s clear commandments by following their own traditions. He pointed out their use of “Corban”—a practice where resources were declared dedicated to God to bypass the fifth commandment’s demand to honor parents (Mark 7.10-13). Despite this apparent contradiction to God’s Law, they vigorously defended their tradition. It shows how easily tradition can blind us!

Ensuring Our Customs Serve Rather Than Supplant Truth

We need to stay alert to make sure customs do not mask the true intent of our actions. This awareness calls for more than just occasional checks—it requires ongoing dedication from hearts committed to Scripture’s authority. We must uphold the principle that Scripture alone should be the ultimate authority in faith and practice.

Reflect on these important questions: If all traditions were taken away, would your faith stay strong because it is based on God’s Word? Or would losing familiar practices make you feel lost and uncertain? Are you worshipping God in line with His revealed will, or just following the accepted ideas of past generations?

The Jerusalem church encountered this challenge when tradition risked overshadowing truth. Jewish Christians, ingrained in ancient practices, found it difficult to accept that Gentile converts did not have to follow ceremonial laws to be saved. God intervened to clarify that salvation is by grace, not by obeying traditional rules (Acts 15.1-29; Galatians 2.15-16).

The Freedom Found in Scriptural Authority

Here’s a liberating truth: By grounding our faith and actions in Scripture rather than tradition, we find freedom rather than limitations. God’s Word serves as a lamp to guide us and a light to illuminate our path (Psalm 119.105). His commands are not burdensome but bring life (1 John 5.3). Letting go of unapproved traditions allows us to open our hands and receive what God truly intends to give.

The Japanese will keep celebrating Christmas with KFC, unaware that this fifty-year-old tradition isn’t linked to actual Christmas customs. While this harmless confusion causes no harm, problems arise when religious tradition replaces divine command and human customs overshadow biblical truth. In such cases, the core foundation of faith is compromised.

Walking in Truth Rather Than Tradition

Let’s honestly assess our hearts and actions. Instead of asking “What have we always done?” we should focus on “What has God commanded?” We should seek worship rooted in Scripture rather than sentiment, doctrine grounded in revelation rather than routine, and obedience driven by love for God rather than mere human expectations.

As we transition from this Christmas season into the new year, let us renew our commitment to the primacy of Scripture. May we find the courage to let go of traditions that oppose God’s Word, wisdom to preserve practices that align with His purposes, and discernment to distinguish between them. Ultimately, our accountability is to God, who has spoken plainly through His Word and calls us to obey Him rather than human traditions (Acts 5.29).

IF YOU DON’T THINK IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR 

Dale Pollard

Scripture never pretends that sadness or despair are imaginary. Instead, it addresses the moments when the heart feels worn down, lonely, or overwhelmed. In fact, it’s a pretty common theme in the Bible. Here are just three verses/sections in particular that show how the Bible approaches sorrow—not with denial, but with honesty. Most importantly, it provides us with unmatched hope. 

Psalm 42:11 — “Why are you cast down, O my soul?”

The psalmist questions his own despair in a public way: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God.” This verse hits hard in a personal way because it shows someone talking to his own heart. Sadness should be acknowledged, not tucked away or buried as if to fool ourselves and others that it doesn’t exist. Maybe some need the reminder that with God, depression doesn’t get the final word. The psalmist reminds himself that feelings can lie, and that hope must sometimes be chosen before it is felt.

1 Kings 19:4–8 — Elijah’s exhaustion, not condemnation

After a great spiritual victory, Elijah collapses into despair and asks to die. God’s response is not a lecture—but rest, food, and care. Before addressing Elijah’s fears, God tends to his physical and emotional exhaustion. This passage reminds us that depression is sometimes tied to fatigue, fear, or isolation. God meets people where they are, not where they think they should be. 

Matthew 11:28 — “Come to Me… and I will give you rest”

Jesus is talking directly to the worn-down and tuckered out crowd: 

“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 

Notice how Jesus doesn’t demand strength first? He invites the weary as they are. This verse sort of reframes how some may think of healing—not self-repair, but coming to Someone who carries what we can’t.

Together, these verses show a consistent truth— sadness is not a spiritual failure. 

The Bible gives permission to be honest, rest easy, and place our hope somewhere stronger than on the shoulders of our own emotions. Depression may darken the moment, but Scripture (constantly) insists that it does not define the ending.

How Congregational Singing Rewires Our Desires:God’s Design for Spiritual Transformation

Brent Pollard

 Modern neuroscience offers terms and insights confirming a core biblical truth: our embodied, habitual practices shape desires and loyalties, drawing us toward or away from God. This central thesis—that repeated actions shape our desires and faith—resonates across both Scripture and scientific concepts such as dopamine pathways, oxytocin bonding, and neural plasticity. Though Paul lacked neuroscientific knowledge, his command to “be filled with the Spirit” and engage in corporate worship (Ephesians 5.18-19) reveals this enduring principle: repeated communal practices shape our souls and determine spiritual direction.

This is not to reduce the spiritual to the chemical or make sin a neural glitch. We caution against such reductionism, as explaining away the body undermines the explanation itself. Instead, we affirm God made us integrated—body and soul—and His commands for Christian living address all of life. When Scripture tells us to sing, it is not empty ritual, but divine wisdom through human formation.

Herein lies a sobering truth: the neurochemical systems God designed for spiritual growth and holy community have a dual potential. These systems can also be redirected to reinforce sinful behaviors or forge harmful, ungodly bonds. Clarifying this dual capacity shows that biblical worship practices are not arbitrary but serve as intentional means to transform our desires toward godliness and protect our hearts for God’s glory.

The Double-Edged Nature of Desire: When Good Design Meets Fallen Hearts

Dopamine is often called the “pleasure chemical,” but this simplifies its role. It drives anticipation, motivation, and reward-seeking, leading us to pursue goals and form habits. Each rewarding experience strengthens involved neural pathways, making repetition more likely. This process underpins learning, mastery, and addiction.

Hebrews warns that sin can “entangle” us (Hebrews 12.1), and neuroscience explains how. Each time sinful behavior brings pleasure—through sexual immorality, drunkenness, covetousness, or rage—dopamine reinforces neural pathways linked to that sin, making repetition easier and resisting harder. The drunkard’s brain craves alcohol; the immoral person’s neural pathways deepen ruts of lust.

Solomon asks, “Can a man take fire to his bosom and his clothes not be burned?” (Proverbs 6.27). No. Sin burns because it exploits bonding, pleasure, and motivation systems. Salvation submits to authority; sin is rebellion. Repeated rebellion embeds biochemical pathways, weakening the will.

Oxytocin, the “bonding hormone,” promotes trust, attachment, and cohesion. It helps mothers bond with infants, spouses unite, and communities form, but does not distinguish between holy and unholy bonds. Whether connecting to Christ’s body or binding an adulterer to a mistress, oxytocin strengthens whatever bonds recur.

This clarifies Paul’s warning: “Do not be deceived: ‘Bad company ruins good morals'” (1 Corinthians 15.33 ESV). The corruption is not just philosophical but neurological. Time with those who mock holiness releases oxytocin, bonding believers to them and leading them to oppose faithfulness to Christ. Such fellowship feels good chemically, yet diverts the heart from God. Men are judged by the company they keep and reject.

With these examples in view, the dilemma is clear: systems that foster holiness can also nurture wickedness. Desire is neutral until directed. Our brains are shaped by repeated practice; the question is which practices shape us, and for what purpose.

Why God Commands Congregational Singing: Worship as Neural Reprogramming

Paul repeatedly emphasizes the importance of congregational singing. In Ephesians 5.19, believers are commanded to sing together, and in Colossians 3.16, the instruction is nearly identical. These are not casual suggestions, but apostolic imperatives given under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

God cares whether His people sing because singing engages body, mind, emotion, and community. Singing is formative: it guides desires toward God, reinforces truth through repetition, and fosters shared confession. The early church sang not for performance or preference, but to align with God’s truth.

God is most glorified in us when we find joy in Him. Congregational singing cultivates that satisfaction. As believers sing of Christ’s excellencies, neural pathways are rewired. Dopamine that signaled anticipation of sin now signals anticipation of worship. Oxytocin that bonded to worldly friendships now bonds to the body of Christ. Desire is reordered—not by willpower, but by God’s gracious, embodied design.

Singing content matters. Paul says to use “psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs”—not entertainment or emotional manipulation. The “word of Christ” must dwell richly (Colossians 3.16), ensuring songs are theologically meaningful. Shallow, repetitive choruses stir feeling but lack teaching. Even beautiful, heretical lyrics poison the mind. Thoughts shape feelings; feelings guide actions. What we sing shapes belief, desire, and behavior.

Singing as Resistance: Countering the Threefold Temptation

John identifies three primary ways the world corrupts desire: “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the boastful pride of life” (1 John 2.16). These—sensual cravings, covetousness, and arrogance—have fueled human sin since Eden (Genesis 3.6). Congregational singing quietly challenges each.

The flesh seeks gratification—gluttony, drunkenness, immorality, indulgence. Singing involves the body without temptation. Lungs expand, diaphragm contracts, vocal cords vibrate—active participation without excess. The body is disciplined for sacred purposes. Serving God with strength brings joy. Singing helps believers find satisfaction in worship, not excess.

Desire of the eyes stirs covetousness—constantly comparing and inviting discontent. Singing shifts focus from acquiring to adoring. Believers praise together, not judging status but looking to Christ (Hebrews 12.2). This moves us from comparison to contemplation. As Paul says, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Colossians 3.2 ESV). Congregational singing is a practical way to realign the mind.

The pride of life seeks recognition and elevation. Congregational singing balances pride by blending voices; no one dominates, all harmonize. Whether wealthy or struggling, all sing the same words in the same key, offering equal contribution. Pride comes from having more than others; singing counters this by uniting individuals.

Replacing congregational singing with performances undermines God’s design. Spectator worship makes believers passive consumers, reinforcing laziness, covetousness, and pride—traits singing counters. Worship is not entertainment; it is transformative.

Redemption as Re-embodiment: Reclaiming Desire for God’s Glory

The gospel renews both soul and body. Christ’s incarnation, death, burial, resurrection, and promised return affirm that redemption involves the whole human person. As Paul says, “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Romans 12.1 ESV). The body is essential to worship, not an afterthought.

This is the heart of the matter: God’s instructions—including the command to sing together—are designed to reclaim and shape desires toward His glory. Redeeming both our spiritual and neurological tendencies, these embodied practices counter the world’s misuses and point us toward wholeness in Christ.

This is not manipulation but a gracious design. God, who knows how He made us, provides ways for us to be conformed to His Son’s image (Romans 8.29). Congregational singing is one such way—sharing confession, mutual encouragement, and reshaping desires. When we sing together, we participate in something beyond ourselves: the transformation of desire through God’s power working within community.

The transformation happens gradually. Neural pathways don’t rewire overnight, nor do sinful habits vanish instantly. Yet, as believers sing truth together week by week, something shifts: Christ’s word becomes richer, desires realign, bonds strengthen, and the body matures. This reflects God’s plan for spiritual growth—incremental, communal, and embodied in singing together.

Conclusion: Lift Your Voice, Reorder Your Heart

We live in an era that best understands desire. We know how habits form, bonds strengthen, and pleasure pathways are hijacked. Yet, we are more enslaved to disordered desire. Addiction rises, loneliness grows, and the relentless pursuit of satisfaction leaves many empty. It is time to reconsider our relationship with desire and intentionally pursue healthier, more fulfilling ways forward.

In this cultural moment, the ancient practice of congregational singing takes on new urgency. God’s command for His people to sing together wasn’t a mere ritual; it was a way to reclaim, redirect, and redeem desire. This embodied act serves as a form of resistance to the threefold temptation that enslaves the world and fosters a community whose bonds transcend death.

The question is whether we will embrace God’s gifts or replace them with more culturally accepted options. Will we gather weekly to sing with whole body, mind, and heart engagement? Will we demand content that is theologically rich and biblically grounded? Will we teach the next generation that worship is active participation, not passive consumption, in transforming desire?

The stakes are often higher than we realize. Repeated practice shapes our character. Singing truth allows it to take root; singing together strengthens bonds of love; singing to God cultivates a desire to seek Him above all. This is not just theory but the lived experience of believers throughout history, who have found that congregational singing does more than express faith—it shapes it.

Lift your voice and join your brothers and sisters. Let Christ’s word dwell richly within you. In a world that seeks to hijack your desires, practice what God designed to reclaim them for His glory. As you sing, trust that God is reshaping your appetites, reordering your loves, and conforming you to the image of His Son. This is worship as God intended: not entertainment, but transformation; not performance, but participation in the redemptive remake of desire.

Walking Worthy

Carl Pollard

In Ephesians 4:2, the Apostle Paul urges Christians: “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” This verse comes as Paul transitions from the profound doctrines of God’s grace in chapters 1–3 to practical living. Having been called into one body through Christ’s redemptive work (Ephesians 4:1), we are to “walk worthy” of that calling. These four virtues, humility, gentleness, patience, and forbearance in love, form the foundation for preserving “the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:3).

Humility means having a low estimation of oneself, not out of self-loathing, but from recognizing our utter dependence on God’s grace. It is the opposite of pride, which destroys relationships. Jesus exemplified this perfectly, saying, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart” (Matt. 11:29). Philippians 2:5–8 calls us to have the same mindset as Christ, who emptied Himself and took the form of a servant. Without humility, we cannot serve one another or maintain unity.

Gentleness, often translated as meekness, is strength under control. Aristotle described it as the balance between excessive anger and passivity. It is not weakness but controlled power, as seen in Jesus driving out the money changers yet never sinning in anger. Galatians 5:23 lists gentleness as fruit of the Spirit. In a divided church, gentleness defuses conflict and reflects Christ’s character.

Patience. or longsuffering, means being “slow to anger.” It mirrors God’s character: “The Lord is… patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish” (2 Peter 3:9). Love “is patient” (1 Corinthians 13:4). In relationships, patience endures irritations without retaliation, remembering how much God has patiently borne with us.

Finally, we are to “bear with one another in love.” This means making allowances for others’ faults, forgiving as God forgave us (Colossians 3:13). Agape love motivates this forbearance, seeking others’ good even when it costs us.

These virtues are not optional suggestions but commands for every follower of Christ. In a world defined by division, pride, and impatience, the church must shine as a countercultural community. Imagine families, workplaces, and congregations transformed by this grace. But we cannot manufacture these traits in our strength; they flow from the Spirit as we abide in Christ (Galatians 5:22–23).

So, examine your heart: Where do pride or impatience hinder unity? Repent and yield to God. Walk in humility, gentleness, patience, and love, for in doing so, you glorify the One who first loved us and display the beauty of His calling to a watching world!

“Heartaches”

Have you ever been in such emotional pain that your heart felt like it was literally aching? The worst pain in this life is not always physical.

Dale Pollard

Have you ever been in such emotional pain that your heart felt like it was literally aching? The worst pain in this life is not always physical. Often times it’s the emotional pain of saying “good bye” that can drive us to our knees. It can make us lash out in anger. It can make the toughest man alive break down in tears, and it can crush a young person’s spirit. Why would a God of love and compassion let such a thing happen? If He cares, but He can’t do anything about it, wouldn’t that mean He’s not all powerful? If He doesn’t care, but He has the power, doesn’t that mean He’s cruel?

If you’ve got “heart pain” in your life, the best thing you can do is draw closer to God. Don’t isolate yourself from the only true source of comfort and healing. Don’t throw your head up to the sky, as if looking for some eye-contact with God. Rather, let your head fall to the scriptures. God will tell you that His ways are perfect, His word has been tried and tested, and He is the shield for those who decide to take refuge in Him (Psalm 18:30).

He would also tell you that if you are a righteous individual, He’s going to deliver you from any trouble (Psalm 34:19). As a loving Father, God would tell you that He understands what you’re going through (Isaiah 53:3). God would tell you to hang in there because while there is suffering, heartache, and pain here, there is a place prepared by Him where none of that exists (John 14:2-4). God would ask you to draw near to Him, because if you do He will draw near to you (James 4:8).

We can’t always think of the appropriate words to say when someone is going through grief, but God always knows the right thing to say and He is perfect in all His ways. Bring Christ your broken life. He’ll fix it for you.