Tag: Jesus

Cut Flowers Die

Carl Pollard

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

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

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

God Is The Source Of What Is Good

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

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

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

Morality Without God Cannot Stand

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sorry, Chase! (Part 4)

Gary Pollard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DYING OF FRIGHT WOULD BE HORRIFYING 

Dale Pollard

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

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

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

PAGANS & JEWS & ROMANS— OH MY!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THREE GOOD WORDS 

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

Power

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

Love 

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

Self-control 

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

WE’RE PROGRAMMED TO WIN 

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

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

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

How To Handle Anxiety

Carl Pollard

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

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

The Command: Reject Anxiety

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

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

The Exchange: Prayer Instead of Worry

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

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

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

The Result: God’s Guarding Peace

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

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

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

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

Scripture gives several practical steps for dealing with anxiety. 

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

2. Replace worry with prayer immediately.

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

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

4. Focus on today.

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

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

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

Sorry, Chase! (Part 3)

Gary Pollard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DON’T WORRY ABOUT WORRY

Dale Pollard

Jesus addressed worry head-on in His Sermon on the Mount. He said, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?” (Matthew 6:25)

He pointed to the birds of the air—they don’t plant crops or store food, yet our heavenly Father feeds them. He points out the wildflowers—they don’t labor or spin, yet they’re more beautifully dressed than even King Solomon. Then came the question: “Are you not much more valuable than they?” (26).

Worry changes nothing, Jesus explains, but it steals today’s peace. His solution is simple and profound. 

“Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (33-34). 

When we make God’s purposes our top priority, He promises to take care of the rest.

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!

To War With The Waves

Dale Pollard

One of the strangest moments in Roman history probably belongs to crazy Caligula. Why? Well, he’s the emperor who  declared war on the sea. 

This wasn’t a battle on the sea, this was a battle with the sea.  

According to the Roman historian Suetonius in The Twelve Caesars, Caligula marched his legions to the coast of Gaul around A.D. 40 and he formed his soldiers in battle lines facing the water.

Then he gives a command— attack! 

The troops were ordered to stab the waves and hurl javelins into the surf. Afterward, Caligula reportedly instructed them to gather seashells as “spoils of war”—from Neptune (Rome’s god of the sea). 

Was the story exaggerated? It’s possible. Even if the only truth to the tale was that a man waged war against the ocean it still provides the perfect illustration for many things in life. The illusion of human power, being one of them. An emperor who ruled millions could command armies, raise your taxes, and build monuments — but he couldn’t slay the sea. The ocean didn’t retreat and the waves did not surrender.

The Bible tells us who has sovereignty over the waters:

“Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb… when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt” (Job 38:8–11)? 

God reminds humanity that only He sets boundaries for the ocean. Kings may flex, and armies might rage, but the tide answers to no one but Him.

Caligula’s strange spectacle at the beach becomes sort of a  parable doesn’t it? When humans attempt to assert divine authority over creation, they expose their limits. A lesson nobody ever wants to learn is that power without humility turns into absurdity. Or, to put it another way; authority without submission is self-parody.

The sea still keeps its boundaries, not because an emperor commanded it— but because God did.

Making A Way When There Was No Way

Neal Pollard

Recently, I read the 2005 book by Candice Millard entitled The River Of Doubt. It chronicles Theodore Roosevelt’s exploration of the interior of Brazil, along with Candido Rondon. Their work literally put a major tributary of the Amazon River on the map. Rondon had come across the river in a 1909 expedition to lay telegraph wire and he longed to explore it. When Roosevelt was yearning for an adventure following his unsuccessful bid for a third term as president, this appeared to be the answer. It was called The River Of Doubt (Rio da Dúvida) because no one knew how long it was, what kind of terrain it passed through, or where it ended. The journey was dangerous and deadly, very nearly killing Roosevelt himself. But the risk resulted in geographical and scientific advancement that benefits the world even today.

I have always been fascinated to read about the works of pioneers. Gutenberg and the printing press, Jenner and vaccinations, the Wright brothers and flying. Whether travel and exploration or inventions, people who went first or paved the way for us are people we may never think about but we owe so much to them. Even our highway systems, with paved roads that go through tall mountains, took people to make a way when there was no way.

In Hebrews 6:20, the writer uses a term that’s only found in that verse–forerunner. The word had a very diverse usage. It was used in athletics of one who runs forward at top speed. It was used of one who went in advance of others, like horsemen ahead of the army or guides. The ancient Macedonian army had a special corp known as forerunners. In Alexandria, Roman ships heavily loaded with grain, were led out by a small guide ship. It was used in botany of the first green shoot, tree or flower of Spring. It was used metaphorically of a precursor, like John the Baptist.

The idea is that Jesus has gone behind the curtain before us into God’s presence. We can join Him there because His death made it possible for us (Heb. 5:8-9). But we also have unrestricted access to God’s presence now because He prepared the way. The writer tells us this is our sure and steadfast anchor of hope that allows us to take refuge.

It is beautiful to think that Jesus has gone before us and paved a way for us. It is a theme the writer of Hebrews addresses throughout the book as He shows us how Jesus has done that in the past, is doing it now, and will do it in the future:

  • Our forerunner went before us in the creation (1:1-3)
  • Our forerunner went before us in salvation (2:10)
  • Our forerunner has gone before us for our eternal destination (12:1-2).

One of our songs says, “Each step I take, my savior goes before me, and with His loving hand He leads the way. And with each step, He whispers I adore thee, Oh, what joy to walk with Him each day.” He’s gone before us! The question is, “Are we following Him?”

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.

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)

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.