Faithful Writers

Pain, grief, betrayal, exhaustion — Jesus knows it all firsthand. Not because He’s omniscient, but because He lived it. That’s what makes this personal.

Faith isn’t fast food. Learn why Christian perseverance requires slow, steady growth — the kind of faith that deepens roots, resists shortcuts, and endures for a lifetime.

Jesus never called perfect people. He built His kingdom through messy, flawed, everyday people — a reminder that there’s grace for the broken.

When Jesus cried ‘It is finished,’ He wasn’t giving up — He was declaring that sin’s debt was canceled, the law fulfilled, and death defeated. Those words still echo today: freedom is real, forgiveness is secure, and your acceptance before God is settled forever.

Spiritual maturity isn’t about stacking up theological bricks until you build an impenetrable wall. It’s more like planting a garden: alive, unpredictable, and in constant need of tending. Gardens change with the seasons. So does faith.

Sometimes holy words fade into background music. Psalm 23 has been read so often we forget to listen. But what if it was re-told in the voice of today’s spoken word? Raw. Real. Unforgettable.

When the world sleeps and darkness presses in, God writes melodies for the midnight hour. Even in seasons of silence, He fills the night with songs of hope, faith, and quiet strength.

Jesus redefines the relationship, saying, ‘I call you friends, not servants,’ inviting us beyond duty into the inner heart of God. Friendship in biblical culture was covenantal, rooted in loyalty, intimacy, and sacrifice—far removed from mere obedience. Being Jesus’ friend means trusting in His why, not just following His what.

Jesus didn’t come to make us feel small, guilty, and separate from God. He came to show us that we’re beloved, forgiven, and already one with God

When I finally slowed down to read whole sections — sometimes whole books at a time — it hit me: this is a story. A messy, winding, human story about people trying to follow God.

I discovered, slowly and a bit painfully, that in some ways — many ways actually — the church can prevent you from growing. Not because everyone in it is bad, or because God has abandoned the place…but because institutions have a way of drifting from their first love.

Worry never actually fixes anything, but we keep doing it like it’s our job, don’t we? Jesus talked about this and shared several practical solutions. They’re not deep theology. Just real, day-to-day stuff.

It doesn’t mean smiling through it. Or faking your way to “blessed and highly favored.” Choosing hope isn’t about pretending you’re fine. Sometimes, choosing hope is just refusing to close the door. Leaving a little crack open. It’s the spiritual equivalent of leaving the porch light on, just in case.

Sometimes, doing the right thing means stopping mid-argument and saying, “You’re right.” It means giving up the need to win. Or walking across the room when you’d rather stay in your little safe corner.

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.

Now, you might be saying, “If you know the tips, how do you fall to the bottom of the well?” Because it’s not magic. We’re all living real life here and — for whatever reasons — I’m sometimes tripped up along the way.

The Bible isn’t dead ink. Not because the pages themselves are like a magic potion. But because they have the ability to inspire the reader to living a wise life. There are lines in Scripture I’ve read a hundred times. But then one day, in the middle of a mess, or a moment of quiet, or a hard conversation with God, I’ll read that same line again — and it lands different. It breathes.

How I went from begging for answers to noticing the grace that was there all along

When the Psalmist wrote, “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord,” he didn’t say that they’re hard to find, specific steps.” There’s wiggle room. There’s grace. There’s space to learn as you go. God doesn’t yank the rug out every time you hesitate.

Tear rolls down a cheek in close-up of an eye with long eyelashes. The grayscale image conveys a mood of sadness or emotion.

They slapped religion on their thrones, not because they loved God, but because it kept the people in line. Faith became their favorite leash. And sadly, America is still repeating it.

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.

And if we stopped yanking this verse out of the middle of a very intimate, emotional conversation — if we actually slowed down and listened to what was really happening — we might hear something much more human. Much more hopeful. And far more powerful than a doctrinal threat.

I didn’t walk away from faith — but I did start asking harder questions. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s when something deeper began to grow.