Faithful Writers

Jesus never said, “Y’all go defend me online like I’m in witness protection.” He just said, “Follow me.” That’s it. Follow me. He didn’t need a hype man or a bodyguard. He needed people who lived in such a way that others saw something different — not louder, not meaner, not smug. Different.

I couldn’t skirt around it, I couldn’t “back burner” it any longer. Once faced with it, it wasn’t going anywhere. The Holy Spirit made sure of that, I was being convicted to make a choice.

I’d feel bad if I skipped a day. Worse if I missed two. By day three, I was convinced God was giving me the silent treatment and I’d better double up on devotions just to get back in His good graces.

Imagine taking the weight of all your sins and multiplying that by billions. Then willingly taking those upon yourself while being crucified?

The loving Jesus you follow, and cling to certain teachings of, said this about the Old Testament: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” Matthew 5:17

When the Disciples couldn’t cast out the demon, Mark 9:14–32, Jesus demonstrated that the way life is lived between prayer sessions is much more important than the eloquence of the prayers spoken — after all, He knows what you’re about to say before you do.

That’s the tricky part, right? Because the Spirit doesn’t always show up the way we expect. We want a booming voice, a divine sign, maybe something with flashing lights and a deep Morgan Freeman-esque narration. But more often than not, the Spirit’s help looks like:

This idea that you can pick and choose what characteristics of God you want to believe and focus on is disastrous for your faith. You can’t select, elevate, and revere one above the others and expect a rich and abundant relationship with Him. 

I wanted to write Psalms 23 in a way so that when people read it, they see the beauty and meaning behind every translated word chosen for this prayer. And when they pray it next, it is not the mindless chant that it has become in churches. 

You don’t ask why does God allow suffering because you’re curious. You ask it because something inside you is crumbling with anguish. This isn’t really a question born from curiosity. It’s more like a scream we turned into words.