Faithful Writers

Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash Every December, two great Christmas traditions return like clockwork. The first is the nativity scene, complete with its fresh straw, smiling donkeys, three politely kneeling kings, and Mary looking suspiciously serene for someone who has just given birth without pain relief. The second tradition is the annual round of newspaper headlines, TV documentaries, and Medium articles announcing, with tremendous seriousness, that everything you think you know about Christmas is wrong. “Jesus wasn’t born in a stable.”“The wise men weren’t kings.”“Mary didn’t ride a donkey.” I think they expect the nation to drop everything in shock at these revelations. The worst bit? Every year, people begin tying themselves in knots trying to defend or debunk these details, often with a level of scientific precision Luke was never aiming for. I find myself thinking the same thing: It really doesn’t matter. Not in the way we might fear. Because the Christmas story was never meant to be a forensic report. It’s theology told through history, not history dressed up as theology . The Gospel writers weren’t trying to satisfy twenty-first-century sceptics; they were trying to proclaim that God had stepped into the world, and that news changes everything , donkey or no donkey. So, just for a bit of seasonal fun, here are ten things we often assume are true about the nativity… but probably aren’t, and, crucially, why none of them weaken the story even slightly. 1. Mary rode a donkey to Bethlehem This is the most beloved non-detail in the entire Bible. The Gospels never mention a donkey. Not one. Mary and Joseph most likely just walked. I know, that’s not nearly as romantic, and donkeys are cute, and all that, but it is practical. Why this doesn’t matter: Luke isn’t interested in modes of transport. His story is about faithfulness, courage, and unrelenting trust in God’s unfolding plan, whether on foot or four legs. 2. Jesus was born the moment they arrived: the dramatic “no room at the inn” rush Again, this is the nativity-play version. Luke simply says, “While they were there, the time came for her to give birth.” “While they were there” could mean days, even weeks. Sadly, there was probably no frantic doorstep emergency with Mary doubled over while Joseph begged someone for a bed. Why this doesn’t matter: The point is not speed but incarnation . God arrives in the ordinary rhythms of life, not in a last-minute dramatic dash. 3. The birth happened in a wooden stable Sorry, I know it sounds rustically charming, but there’s really no stable mentioned at all. Most likely, they were staying in a family home, where the animals were brought into the lower room at night. The manger was simply a feeding trough close at hand. Why this doesn’t matter: The humility of the scene is unchanged. If anything, it makes the story even more human. God was born not in loneliness but in the midst of a crowded household. 4. The “inn” was like a first-century Travelodge What reinforces this is that the word Luke uses, kataluma , means “guest room,” not “hotel.” A family home, not a commercial business. Why this doesn’t matter: Once again, the point of the message is hospitality , not rejection . Jesus is born not because the world shut its doors, but because life was already full and overflowing. 5. The star hovered over the stable like a spotlight Matthew’s star is symbolic as well as astronomical, the kind of celestial sign ancient readers associated with kingship, destiny, and divine action. Some people get caught up trying to prove it was Halley’s Comet. But hovering over the stable? That’s a stretch. The wise men didn’t follow a celestial sat-nav; they followed prophecy and meaning. Why this doesn’t matter: Matthew isn’t giving a lesson in astrophysics. He’s announcing that heaven rejoices when God comes close. It’s symbolism, and beautiful at that. 6. The shepherds and wise men arrived together Christmas cards have lied to us for generations. Luke has shepherds. Matthew has Magi. Spoiler: they never meet, although if they did, I’d imagine it would be awkward. Oh, and the Magi probably arrived months, possibly even years, later. Yes, that does make Jesus a toddler. Yes, he probably bolted off as they walked in, as toddlers do. Why this doesn't matter: Each Gospel writer is emphasising something different: Luke highlights the poor and overlooked. Matthew highlights the outsiders and seekers. Together they reveal the wideness of God’s welcome. 7. There were three wise men Matthew never says three. We simply assume it because of the three gifts. Fair enough, but I’m fairly sure one wise man could hold more than one present. Why this doesn’t matter: The number isn’t the point. Their worship is. These strangers recognise what many locals fail to see: that God is doing something world-changing in that… room (not stable, remember) . 8. The wise men were kings That’s later Christian tradition. In the text, they’re Magi, which means they are astrologers, scholars and star-readers. Why this doesn’t matter: Matthew includes them because his audience would recognise echoes of Israel’s Scriptur es: nations streaming to the light, offering gifts to God’s chosen king. Crucially, he’s telling us who Jesus is , not writing a Wikipedia biography of the Magi. They are a side-plot, a brilliant one, but still a side-plot. Can you tell I was once a king in the school nativity play?! 9. Jesus was born on 25 December This trump card is brought out every December, as if it should reduce the faithful to pre-Christmas wrecks and force them to ditch their nativity sets. Clearly, it’s highly unlikely. To start with, shepherds don’t tend sheep outdoors at night in the coldest months. Early Christians may have chosen the date deliberately or symbolically to mark hope in darkness, or perhaps to supplant a pagan holiday. Why this doesn’t matter: The meaning of Christmas has never depended on the calendar. The point is that Christ is born and light breaks into the world. 10. The first Christmas was peaceful and silent We’ve all sung Silent Night enough times to imagine childbirth was a serene, candle-lit affair. It annoys me more than it should, as a father of three. In reality: noise, sweat, panic, relief — the whole earthy reality of bringing a baby into the world. Why this doesn’t matter: It might be the most glorious detail of all. God enters our world not clean and neat, but messy and embodied — just like the rest of us. So, Why Do Matthew and Luke Tell the Story This Way? This is where things get properly interesting. The differences between the Gospel accounts aren’t mistakes; they’re emphases . Each writer has a theological agenda, not in a manipulative sense, but in a pastoral sense. Luke’s purpose Luke writes for outsiders: people on the margins, Gentiles, those unsure if they belong. So he places the story among the humble, the poor, the unspectacular. His Jesus is good news for the lowly. His birth narrative echoes Mary’s song: “He has lifted up the humble.” Matthew’s purpose Matthew writes for a community wrestling with identity, Scripture, and fulfilment. His Jesus is the long-promised Messiah, the new Moses, the new David. So, he includes the Magi, the star, the royal symbolism, and the echoes of prophecy. Two perspectives, one truth God has come into the world. God is doing something new. God is drawing people in, the shepherd boy and the scholar, the faithful Jew and the foreign traveller. Neither writer is trying to satisfy modern scientific scrutiny nor write a textbook. They are preaching, proclaiming, and revealing. Why Debunking These Myths Doesn’t Weaken the Story, It Strengthens It This is the part people often overlook. Some Christians panic when the details are questioned, as if the whole thing might collapse like my wonky Christmas tree. Others become obsessed with proving that every detail must be historically perfect, as though the incarnation depends on winning a debate on BBC Radio 4. But the Gospel writers were not aiming for laboratory precision. They were telling a theological truth: God has stepped into human history. God has become vulnerable. God has drawn near. And that truth stands whether: Mary walked or rode Jesus was born in a stable or a downstairs family room The Magi came in three or thirty The date was December or April The incarnation is not fragile. It doesn’t fall apart when we ask questions. In fact, it becomes clearer, deeper, and more astonishing. Because when you strip away the traditions we’ve added, the donkeys, the shining stars and the tidy stable, what you’re left with is a story more grounded than any Christmas card: A teenage mother. A labouring couple far from home. A crowded house. A feeding trough. Ordinary people, ordinary chaos, extraordinary grace. God choosing the weakness of the world as the place to begin again. That, in the end, is the real miracle, one that no amount of myth-busting can diminish. If this reflection stirred something in you, I write daily pieces like this in my Sacred & Secular newsletter at www.sacredandsecular.co.uk — a quiet space for slowing down, listening, and paying attention to the God who still speaks. © Paul Ian Clarke Article first published in Sacred & Secular in Medium.

By guest author Pastor Rich Bittermen The bell tower threw a long shadow across the quad.Flyers flapped on a corkboard…movie nights, climate rallies, and three printed rainbows promising “safe space, no shame.” A freshman in a hoodie stood there for a moment, thumbing through his phone. A headline blinked up from his screen: “1 in 5 Gen Z now identify as LGBT.” He didn’t flinch. He just shouldered his backpack, tucked the leather Bible deeper inside, and kept walking. A New Normal That Isn’t According to Gallup, 7.2% of all U.S. adults identify as LGBT . But among Gen Z, those born after 1997, that number has surged to 19.7% . Almost one in five. Not claimed in passing, but embraced, published, and pressed into every layer of public life. These are not secret sins or silent struggles. These are banners now, waved from classrooms, streaming platforms, and TikTok timelines. What once whispered from shadows now demands celebration in the streets. But the Word of God has not moved. It sits where it always has, solid and unblinking, like a stone in a river while the current rushes past in protest. So we must speak. Not with outrage, not with distance, but with urgency and tears. Behind Every Number, a Name A young man once sat across from me in the quiet of the church office. He stared at his coffee but never drank it. The Styrofoam cup trembled slightly in his hand. “Pastor,” he said, “do you think I’m ruined?” That’s what this conversation is really about. Not Gallup charts. It’s about souls. Souls who wonder if the gospel is big enough to reach them. Souls who are being catechized by a rainbow-washed world that says: “This is who you are. This is your truth. This is love.” We must be clear: not every person who feels this temptation commits this sin. And not every person who struggles in silence has been discipled in truth. But everyone, everyone, needs a gospel strong enough to save, and a church willing to sit with them long enough to show them Jesus. Temptation Is Not Identity Let’s make this unmistakably clear: Temptation is not identity. Inclination is not destiny. To feel a pull is not to be condemned.To practice the act is to disobey God. The Bible defines sin not by what we feel, but by what we do. Homosexuality, like adultery or drunkenness or greed, is a behavior that God condemns…not a personality trait, not a quirk of biology. Some are more inclined to it, yes. Just as others are more inclined to rage or addiction. But no one is born bound to sin. The gospel breaks every chain. The World Redefines; God Restores A culture that removes sex from covenant and morality has nowhere left to stand. Once sexual desire becomes a consumer product, no more meaningful than choosing carrots over Brussels sprouts, then marriage collapses, families fracture, and civilization forgets how to blush. Rome fell that way. So did Babylon. So, quietly, are we. When God’s design for sexuality is abandoned, what replaces it is not freedom but confusion. Not joy, but a restless ache that success and slogans cannot touch. The Ache Behind the Applause You’ll hear it said that the LGBT community is vibrant and strong. That they’ve found their place. That they’ve claimed their pride. But I have seen too many behind closed doors, long after the parade has ended, to believe it. They carry the ache of being misunderstood. The shame of wanting what they know to be wrong. The fear of growing old and being alone . What looks like celebration is often a cry for belonging. What sounds like confidence is often the soundtrack to an identity that will not hold. Romans 1 tells us plainly that when men and women trade God’s design for their own passions, there is judgment, but not just judgment in the future. The judgment begins now, in the form of confusion, futility, and the darkening of the heart. They are not just sinning.They have been sinned against. Such Were Some of You And yet this is not the end of the story. Paul writes to the Corinthian church: “Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality… will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you.But you were washed. You were sanctified. You were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”-1 Corinthians 6:9–11 Some of them had been practicing homosexuals. Others had been caught in adultery, drunkenness, covetousness. Paul doesn’t separate them into levels. He simply points to the blood of Jesus and says: Washed. Sanctified. Justified. That is what the gospel does.It doesn’t sweep your past under a rug.It scrubs it clean.It doesn’t leave you nameless.It gives you sonship. That young man in my office? He’s not ruined. He’s redeemed. Friendship Is Not Fornication One of the great lies of our age is the confusion between intimacy and impurity. The world cannot imagine two men being close without being lovers. It cannot picture two women walking through sorrow and joy without assuming sin. But the Bible gives us David and Jonathan, a friendship so deep, so loyal, so bonded, that David would later write: “Your love to me was wonderful, surpassing the love of women.” -2 Samuel 1:26 Not a hint of sin. Just God-given friendship.We must recover that category in the church. Deep, holy, covenant friendships that fight loneliness without fueling lust. Real companionship that welcomes a third person into the fold instead of shutting the door to protect hidden sin. When two walk together in Christ, and a third comes bearing the same heart-they are welcomed. That is friendship.When a third comes and is resented, resisted, and feared-lust may be lurking. Repentance Means Quit The message of Christ is not tolerance. It is transformation. The call is not to manage our sin. The call is to kill it. “Cease to do evil. Learn to do good.”-Isaiah 1:16–17 Repentance means quit . Quit now. Quit forever. Not by might. Not by therapy. But by the Spirit of the Living God. Do you feel powerless? Good. So did the man with the withered hand. Jesus said, “Stretch it out.” And when the command came, the power came with it. So it is with every sin. The moment you decide to obey, Christ supplies the strength. Avoid the places. Cancel the subscriptions. Confess to someone in the church who will hold you up with truth and love. Step into the light and let the light burn clean. For Parents Who Are Afraid To the mother reading this with tears…To the father who’s too broken to speak…You are not alone. Your child may be caught in this storm, but God is not blind and He is not finished. Do not compromise. But do not stop praying . Do not cut off the phone calls. Be the one who always answers. Be the one who keeps a chair at the table. Truth and love are not opposites. In Christ, they are inseparable. For the One Still Struggling If you feel the pull of same-sex attraction and wonder if there is a place for you in Christ- The answer is yes. If you have committed the act and wonder if grace can still reach you-The answer is yes.If you have fought the same temptation a thousand times and failed again-Come to Christ. He knows temptation. He felt it. He did not yield. And now He gives mercy to the tempted. “We do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.” -Hebrews 4:15 He knows the exact shape of your ache.He knows what your tears taste like.And He’s not ashamed to call you His. A Call to the Church Do not flinch. Do not soften what Scripture has made clear . Do not smirk when others weep. Do not grow distant from those who struggle. The harvest is full of strugglers. The pews are not pure. We are all people being saved from something. This is not the hour for moral pride. It is the hour for gospel courage. Eternity Is Not a Theory One in five Gen Z now identify as LGBT. But behind that number is a soul. And that soul will live forever. The rainbow will fade. The slogans will age. But the Word of God will still be open. And the blood of Christ will still be enough. So we preach. We counsel. We cry. We repent. And we welcome. Because we were washed. Because we were sanctified. Because we were justified. And now we walk together toward the throne. © Pastor Rich Bitterman Originally published at https://richbitterman.com on September 3, 2025.

I don’t normally write holiday-themed articles, but I have a particular fascination with the Magi, and since it’s me, this won’t be “ normal.”  😉 Who Were the Magi? Let’s start with some basic definitions. Magi :  Of foreign origin (Rab-Mag); a Magian, i.e. Oriental scientist; by implication, a magician — sorcerer, wise man.  ( Rab-mag :  Chief Magi, Chief of the Magi, or Chief Officer) This word, Magi, immediately sparks my curiosity. Why in the world would Matthew write about them in conjunction with Christ when that word generally translates to “magician,” which seems contradictory to Biblical warnings against sorcery? That question pulled me into this rabbit hole because, in my experience, the Bible never includes details without a purpose. Were the Magi Believers? I won’t pretend to know every detail of these specific Magi’s beliefs, but Scripture gives us strong clues about their emotional state that is relevant to understanding them. “have come to worship him.”  (v. 2) “They were overjoyed.”  (v. 10) “They bowed down and worshiped him.”  (v. 11) God warned them in a dream, and they obeyed. (v. 12) Some argue that they only recognized a significant child but not the Messiah, or they were simply curious. But in these few verses, we can see a distinct emotional response happening: worship, rejoicing, prostration, and discernment.  Nothing about their story is a passive reaction to a mere child, which is why I believe these Magi were genuine believers. What Did They Know and When? The Magi would have known about the details of the prophecy through either Micah’s  or   Daniel’s  prophecy, or both. We will never know 100% which source or sources were used, but we know they knew. Here is the timeline: Daniel’s prophecy → 500-ish years before Christ Micah’s prophecy → 700-ish years before Christ That’s an extraordinarily long time for a different culture to preserve, hold onto, and wait for another culture's prophecy to show up. This shows me: Belief and faith Generational transmission of that belief And awareness of a coming king outside of Jewish circles We often think that knowledge of God was localized in and around a small area at the time, but here we see that this is not the case. We will never know for sure who and how far this may have spread. Persian empires were powerhouses, including the Parthian Empire, which is the era these Magi are from. Persians were also unusual in how they treated conquered races: they did not squash their culture or religious practices (think Esther and Mordecai). This makes it entirely plausible that prophecies or religious knowledge of God traveled farther than we often assume, especially since they traded with everyone from China to India. I’m claiming it was a major spread of any kind, but it may have been just enough of a sprinkling that helped things along years later. Dr. Kaveh Farrokh Where Did the Magi Come From? We actually have a decent ballpark idea of where they came from for two reasons. (the second one is the cincher) First, we are told: “from the east,”  and that starts to make sense when you know that Daniel was in Babylon when he had his vision, which was later conquered by Persia while he was still there, and he stayed. A general history to help Now, I’m not lumping these particular Magi who came to see Christ in with ALL  the other Magi and their practices of the time. They stand apart simply by what they did. But we do need some general context about the group as a whole. Many (probably a majority)  did mess around with what we know are occult practices, such as talking to the dead, cursing people, or predicting the future. None of that is disputed historically. But we also know they were well-known and respected for their intelligence. They were an esteemed priestly caste who studied math, philosophy, science, astronomy, teaching, and medicine. And they served as royal advisors and were heavily involved in politics. The Cincher Reason number 2 of how we can tell where they were from the Parthian Empire. Because Herod freaked out. By this point in history, the Magi were an extremely powerful priest ly caste. One o f their literal jobs was appointing or removing kings; that’s how influential they were. So when they showed up at Herod’s door, asking, “ Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? ”  Herod panicked. He didn’t know whether they were there to threaten his already thin claim to the throne or start a war, and the fact that they were looking for Christ was a problem because of the authority they carried. Their search for and acknowledgment of a king was a direct threat to his throne. Also, they would not have shown up with just three people and a couple of pack camels. Persians, especially high-ranking ones, did not  know the meaning of traveling light or in small numbers. The threat to Herod would have been palpable in the air to an already mean ruler; that’s why he reacted as violently as he did and had all those male children slaughtered. “When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.” Matt 2:16 The Significance of Their Visit Now we come to the part that I personally feel is so significant in this whole situation. When the Magi found Christ, (child, not baby)  they bowed and worshiped Him. They recognized His kingship and publicly acknowledged it among a Gentile group. God didn’t need  anyone to legitimize Jesus, but He allowed it to happen. This is why Matthew includes the story: their visit wasn’t incidental. Their presence demonstrates: Gentile recognition before Jewish acceptance Fulfillment of ancient prophecies Christ’s kingship was acknowledged by the powerful of the earth God was already weaving Gentile nations into Christ’s mission Their gifts weren’t random either. The gold alone supported the family’s flight to Egypt. All told, their story reminds me that God’s work is far-reaching, intricate, and deliberately timed. Why This Matters While none of this is essential to our salvation, understanding the historical and cultural context deepens appreciation for Scripture. These seemingly small narrative threads reveal the complexity of God’s plan. The Magi weren’t some random filler detail. Their appearance signaled a turning point: Gentiles from a powerful foreign priesthood recognized Jesus’ kingship long before His own people did. Exploring these details feels like embarking on a historical adventure with God as my tutor, discovering how He has woven layers into His story that we often overlook. A Final Note Just as parables contain multiple layers of meaning, this account does too. I’ve only addressed a few of the many insights that can be drawn from the Magi’s appearance in Matthew. For another great perspective, check out The Little Scandal Hidden in the Christmas Story by James W. Miller. Also check out this article by Richoka   The significance of the direction “East” in the Scriptures © Jane Isley

Photo by Inbal Malca on Unsplash If you were inventing a Messiah story for Jewish readers in the first century, there is one group of people you would absolutely not include as the first outsiders to recognize Him — Zoroastrian astrologers. And yet, there they are. Not shepherds from a rival tribe, not philosophers from Athens, not priests from Egypt. Magi — Persian mystics, sky-watchers, religious foreigners whose theological DNA came from the ancient teachings of Zoroaster. If the Christmas story were propaganda, this would be its weakest plot point. Which is exactly why it’s probably its strongest evidence of authenticity. Who Were the Magi, Really? The word magi comes from the Persian religious class tied to Zoroastrianism, one of the world’s oldest monotheistic faiths. By the time of Jesus’ birth, Zoroastrianism had shaped the spiritual imagination of the entire Persian Empire, which, not incidentally, once ruled over Israel. These were not “three dudes on camels.” That idea comes later. Matthew never gives a number. He gives a category: a priestly order of astronomer-theologians who were trained to read the heavens as revelation. And this detail matters: the Magi were not Jewish, not Christian, and not trying to fulfill Israel’s Messianic expectations. Yet somehow, they saw something in the sky that told them a king had been born among the Jews . That should make us pause. Why This Detail Is So Theologically Inconvenient Let’s say you were inventing a Jewish Messiah story, tacking on a divine narrative about your hero, Jesus of Nazareth, who was just a moral teacher and a martyr, but whom you wanted to glorify. The clean version would look like this: • Jewish prophecies • Jewish signs • Jewish witnesses • Jewish recognition Instead, Matthew ruins the safe narrative. The religious insiders in Jerusalem are confused. Herod is terrified. The priests know the scriptures but don’t move. The only people who actually travel toward the Christ are pagan sky-watchers. That is not how myths are engineered. That is how memory works. Awkward details survive when invention would have edited them out. Zoroastrianism and Christianity: Unsettling Parallels Here’s where things get even stranger. Zoroastrian theology, long before Christianity, already believed in: One supreme Creator God A real spiritual enemy (evil as personal, not just abstract) A coming world-renewing savior figure Who is born to a woman in an unusual way A final judgment A resurrection of the dead The restoration of the world through fire and light Sound familiar? When the Magi saw a king’s birth inscribed in the heavens, they were not interpreting the sky randomly. They were interpreting it through a theological framework that already expected history to be rescued, not merely repeated. Christianity didn’t borrow its theology from Zoroastrianism, but it did arrive into a world already primed for it. Which raises the question, “ What if God had been preaching to the nations long before the nations knew His name?” The Most Offensive Kind of Grace There’s another problem the Magi create for clean religious storytelling: They worship correctly without converting first. No circumcision No ritual cleansing No Torah vows No temple sacrifice. They simply arrive, kneel, and give gifts: gold for a king, frankincense for a priest, and myrrh for someone who will die. They understand His identity better than the people with the scriptures. That’s not flattering to religion. It’s devastating. Why This Detail Shouldn’t Exist If Christianity Were Invented Fake religious stories tidy things up. They make heroes pure, and they make enemies obvious. White and black hats and so forth. They make recognition come from the right people. The Magi ruin all of that. They come from the wrong nation and practice the wrong religion. They read the wrong book and use forbidden methodology (astrology!). But still arrive at the right Christ. Which leaves us with an uncomfortable possibility: this story was not designed to flatter Israel. It was designed to tell the truth. Even when the truth made the home team look bad. The Quiet Christmas Claim We Miss The Magi contribute something radical into the Christmas story. God was not silent outside Israel. Revelation was not limited to one language. Christ was not only awaited by prophets, but by stars, meaning nature itself. Foreigners got it right first. If you were inventing this story, you would never write it this way . Which is why, against all tidy religious instincts, I think someone simply reported what had happened. © James W. Miller First published in Catharsis Chronicles on Medium.

Photo by Chaozzy Lin on Unsplash Introduction I don’t usually watch “R-rated” movies, but I made an exception to watch this one because I was intrigued by its plot of rebellion, revenge, and justice. If you plan to watch this movie, you will need to use VidAngel (a streaming service linked to other platforms like Netflix that allows you to filter content) to block profanity and be aware that there is quite a bit of violence, especially at the end. Let’s examine how this movie parallels today’s social and political issues. Background This movie was released in 2006. The first scene shows an audience of townspeople staring at a man about to be hanged on the gallows. It turns out he is Guy Fawkes , a co-conspirator in the Gunpowder Plot who was caught trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament in London on November 5th, 1605. I learned about the Gunpowder Plot after watching the movie because I wanted to understand the historical context it was based on. It was a conspiracy led by English Roman Catholics who tried to assassinate King James I and restore Catholic rule in England. The failure of the plot is still celebrated today with bonfires and fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night. “V” is a masked vigilante whose own quest for vengeance against the oppressive “Norsefire” regime was inspired by the Gunpowder Plot, which was an attempt to bring down a tyrannical government. Just as Guy Fawkes became a symbol of defiance against oppression, “V” represents the oppressed masses and their suffering under the current government’s harsh rule. He was tortured at Larkhill, a concentration camp where people were experimented on in a secret program to create a weaponized virus. He escaped when a fire destroyed the premises, disfiguring him permanently, and instilling in him a broiling vendetta to bring down the government that experimented on him. A Foreshadowing of Christian Persecution Today This movie powerfully depicts what happens when a society abandons truth, rejects God’s authority, and replaces moral conviction with state-controlled ideology. Many believers see in the film a symbolic warning about how persecution can grow in a culture based on Humanism that drifts away from biblical foundations. The totalitarian regime “Norsefire” attempted to shape every aspect of its citizens’ lives, their thoughts, speech, morality, and identity. In Scripture, any authority that seeks to replace God ultimately becomes oppressive (see Daniel 3; Acts 5:29). Some Christians see a parallel in today’s governments. When governments or institutions claim the right to redefine morality, biblical conviction becomes countercultural, unpopular, unwelcome, even hated. People who spoke the truth were mocked, censored, or imprisoned. Jesus warned His followers that the world would reject truth and hate those who bear witness to it (John 15:18–20). For many believers, the movie echoes the growing cultural pressure to remain silent about biblical teachings on sin, righteousness, and salvation. The government redefined morality to fit its cultural ideology. They determined what was “acceptable” and punished anything that contradicted their narrative. They maintained power by weaponizing fear, fear of disease, terrorism, social instability, and “the other.” The state manufactured crises and then positioned itself as the sole source of safety. (Doesn’t this sound familiar?) Isaiah 5:20 warns of a time when people will call evil good and good evil. Moral disagreement turned into moral condemnation in this film. This should be a wake-up call to Christians not to let fear rule them (2 Timothy 1:7) nor let it suppress their faith. The film’s central question, which remains deeply relevant today, is: How much freedom are citizens willing to trade for the promise of safety? Religious conviction was targeted, and religious groups were quietly removed, marginalized, or criminalized. This reflects a spiritual truth: wherever Christ’s lordship is rejected, hostility toward His people tends to follow (2 Timothy 3:12). While full persecution varies by country, the film reminds believers that spiritual opposition often begins not with violence but with subtle exclusion. Tactics of Control In the film, the media was manipulated and controlled through the government’s propaganda network, “The BTN”. Stories were rewritten to suppress dissent, and citizens received information designed to distract or deceive. In today’s culture, the struggle over truth has intensified, especially with the Humanist battle cry, “Truth is Relative.” The government used surveillance technology to track individuals and collect data to stave off dissent. These tactics parallel current technologies, which continue to erode individual privacy. Today’s digital systems provide unprecedented data about individuals: location tracking, biometric databases, predictive policing algorithms, and AI-driven monitoring. Governments and corporations alike possess capabilities that far exceed what the film imagined in 2006. The film contains an element of romance in the character of Evey, a young woman rescued by “V” from thugs at the beginning of the movie. She learns through her relationship with “V” that apathy and fear enable tyranny. She sees ordinary citizens tolerating government abuse because they feel that resistance would be dangerous or futile. Conclusion Nearly two decades later, the film’s themes feel uncomfortably familiar. In this film, we see how fear is used to maintain government control, and the question of trading security for freedom is posed. V for Vendetta doesn’t predict the future, but it reflects a biblical pattern: when truth is suppressed, when power replaces God, and when fear governs a culture, persecution is never far behind. This film inspires me to stand firm, speak truth in love, and remain faithful to the Gospel, even in a world that may grow increasingly hostile to it. © Debra Hodges

There’s a moment most of us know too well. Your chest feels tight. Your mind is foggy. You’re juggling responsibilities, relationships, finances, deadlines, emotions — trying to run your life like a neat little spreadsheet — and suddenly everything sloshes over the rim like an overfilled cup. Now that’s “overwhelmed.” And I’ve been there more than once. And the overflow never sends a polite permission to come to your house. When life piles higher than your capacity It’s tempting to assume the solution is to stretch yourself thinner, work harder, hustle longer, squeeze in one more hour, one more mental calculation, one more attempt to hold it all together. You try to widen your grip. You even tell yourself that feeling overwhelmed is a sign of a lack of faith. You imagine that God expects you to hold all the pieces somehow perfectly as you’re doing your best to juggle 15 things at once. But here’s the thing: Scripture doesn’t paint God as a drill sergeant handing out burdens. When life spills over, He steps in as the One who holds what you can’t. The overflow isn’t ours to manage. He hears our cries beneath the chaos David prayed this: “Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to You, as my heart grows faint. Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.” Psalm 61:1–2 David wasn’t writing from an organized office with his to-do list knocked out. He was worn. Overflooded. Faint-hearted. He said, “Lead me to the Rock higher than I.” Why? Because when you’re drowning, you need something solid to stand on.Something stronger than your feelings.Something taller than your problems. God doesn’t tell David, “Well, just do better. Try harder. Get more disciplined.” Instead…He lifts. He carries. He becomes the stable ground under shaking legs and wobbling feet. When your heart is faint, God is not sizing you up — He’s holding you up. He steps into the stress and confusion as the Rock that rises above the waters. The God who strengthens the depleted Isaiah didn’t say God strengthens the already strong. He said this instead: “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak…those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.” Isaiah 40:29–31 Weary. Weak. Bone-tired. Soul-exhausted. When you’re overwhelmed, don’t assume God is disappointed. He is actually leaning toward you. Because He specializes in people at the end of their own ropes. The promise isn’t, “If you hustle enough, you’ll feel strong again.”The promise is, “If you hope in Him, He renews.”He replants. He restores. He lifts enough weight off your shoulders that you can breathe again. Let’s be honest: sometimes being overwhelmed isn’t a failure. It’s evidence that life is too heavy to carry alone — and that God never asked you to. When Peter began to sink Remember the story of Peter stepping out of the boat? (Matthew 14:22–33) Bold. Confident. He took real steps on actual water. And then…He felt the wind on his face. He saw the waves that looked like mountains. He realized how fragile his own courage was. And he started to slip under the water. “Lord, save me!” And what was Jesus’ response? He immediately reached out His hand and caught him. Immediately. Not after a lecture. Not with an eye roll. Not with a disappointed look. Just a compassionate hand.Strong. Present. Steady enough to hold a sinking man. Peter didn’t cough out a perfect prayer. He didn’t list out five strategies or try to figure out floating techniques. He simply called for help, swallowed some seawater, and stretched out his hand. And Jesus met him right there in his panic. Please hear me. God isn’t waiting for us to prove how durable and wise we are. He’s waiting for you to reach out, even if your arm is trembling with fear. Overflow isn’t failure We treat being overwhelmed as if it’s a character flaw: “ If I really trusted God, I wouldn’t feel this way.” “ If I were strong enough, I’d juggle all this just fine.” But sometimes the overflow is an invitation. A holy interruption. A reminder that your capacity isn’t limitless — and was never supposed to be. God made humans, not machines. There’s a reason Scripture talks about the Shepherd who carries, the Father who shelters, the Rock who holds. Because He knew life would exceed your emotional bandwidth. There are weeks you cannot organize your way out of. There are days when grief piles up faster than you can process. There are seasons where responsibilities multiply while your inner capacity shrinks. And in those moments, His answer is not shame — it’s support. When the cup spills, He catches it. When your strength dips, He supplies His. When your faith wobbles, He steadies our steps. We don’t have to manage the overflow. We hand it over to Him. In fact, He actually doesn’t say “hand them over,” He says cast your cares on Me. Cast is a much more aggressive word. The problem is that sometimes, in the handing over, we hold on to part of the burden, thinking it’s our responsibility to fix. If we play a part, He will show that to us. He is our helper. Our wise partner. He knows what we can and can’t do. Stop trying to reinforce yourself We often patch our cracks with hurry and self-talk: “ I just need to think more positively.” “ I’ll push harder tomorrow.” “I’ll figure this thing out.” But God never once said , “Pull yourself together.” He said, “Come to Me.” He said, “Cast your cares.” He said, “My strength is made perfect in weakness.” In other words, “ His strength finds its fullest, most complete expression where you’ve run out of yours.” In God’s Kingdom, our weakness is not a liability Let Him Steady You If you’re overwhelmed today, here’s the permission you might need: You don’t have to sort it all. You don’t have to stand taller than the storm. You don’t have to prove you’re enough. You turn your face toward the One who already is more than enough. Your prayer doesn’t need to be fancy. Just, “Lord, help.” That simple cry pulled Peter out of the water. It can pull you out of what’s drowning you, too. Let God be the Rock higher than your circumstances. Let Him renew what’s depleted. Let Him catch the overflow you cannot hold. And when the waters rise, remember this: the One who saved Peter from the waves has not forgotten how to rescue people who feel like they’re sinking. The overflow is safe in His hands. And so are you. © Gary L Ellis

Photo by  krzhck  on  Unsplash I handed him a Raspberry-Lime Spindrift and sat on a bench across from him.  The sun beat down on my too-white-for-August arms and legs.  I closed my eyes and delighted in the warmth, releasing the tense goosebumps from my air-conditioning-chilled body.  Funerals are rarely fun. But funerals are often a time to reflect.  For some reason, the man in the casket, who was here with us living and breathing last week, will never crack open a Spindrift while cracking a joke at the same time.  His days on earth were numbered, and so are mine.  Small talk ensued with my Spindrift Buddy.  Funerals connect us with people we rarely see, an unplanned family reunion of sorts. But not everyone is used to being around me. I speak the way I write.  I am not ashamed of the Gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes. References to God and prayer and thanksgiving easily flow from my tongue, because they are in my mind and in my heart. “From an overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:45)  I actually don’t remember what I said that shifted our friendly conversation, but I do remember my Spindrift Buddy’s response. “When I was a believer, I used to see things the way you see them, but now that I am an unbeliever, I understand things from a different perspective.” I stared at him in awe. He had somehow flipped the narrative on how I see the world completely upside down, making it appear as if unbelief is the superior side of Christ!  I had grown up without Jesus and became a believer as an adult.  This man had grown up with Jesus and stopped believing as an adult. We each know what it is like to both believe and to reject Jesus as Lord. Only one of us can be right. Intrigued, I began asking questions. If you don’t mind my asking, what led you to stop believing in Jesus? I started reading about other religions and came to realize that all religions are simply man’s attempt to create a fictitious story about what happens to people after they die.  Hindus believe their soul are reborn into a different body.  Muslims believe their soul ends up in Barzakh, awaiting judgment.  Jehovah’s Witnesses believe there is no immortal soul, and the dead person exists in God’s memory to be resurrected, not in heaven, but on earth.  Buddhists believe they are constantly reborn into a different body until they finally reach Nirvana, perfect peace.  Christians can’t figure out what they believe.  Some think you need to complete a bunch of sacraments to go to Heaven.  Others think you need to be baptized.  Still others think you earn brownie points by going to church and performing good deeds.  Others think you need to repent of your sins and accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior to go to Heaven.  There’s no way of knowing which one is right.  I finally realized it’s just a farce, all of them.   So now that you’re on the other side of faith, how do you reconcile eternal questions like, ‘What happens to you after you die?” Nothing happens after you die. Nothing? Nothing. There is nothing after this life. So are we just a collection of molecules, randomly thrown together in such a way that we can think and eat and breathe and deliberately move, but none of it has a purpose? Yes. So if there is nothing after life on this earth, if you do not have an eternal soul, then what is your purpose in life? My purpose in life is to make the most I can with the time I have here.  I want to take care of the earth for future generations.   I don’t understand why we should care about the earth and future generations if there is no purpose to life on earth. We want to leave the earth in good condition so future generations can enjoy what we have been able to enjoy.  For example, I want to be cremated.  We are wasting precious land resources by burying the dead.  If we simply cremate the dead, we don’t need to use up our natural resources. You’re obviously hard-working.  You’re very successful.  You’re an upright citizen.  If there is no purpose to your life, then why are you living like there’s a purpose?  You are adhering to some sort of moral code.  Where did that moral code come from? I just live doing what I think is best.  I work hard.  I treat people fairly.  I don’t know that my morality came from anywhere; it’s just the way I like to live. Don’t you think it’s a gamble?  The Bible says we need to repent of our sins and believe in Jesus as our Lord and Savior, and we will be saved. But you see, I don’t believe in the Bible. But what if you’re wrong?  Does the thought not keep you awake at night?  When your ashes are being spread in the various places you have designated, if you do have an eternal soul, where will it be? If there really is a god, I believe he would look at my life and be pleased and take me to Heaven, if there really were to be such a place. So you would end up in Heaven based on what?  Based on what I think. I went home in a bit of a tizzy, committed to praying daily for my Spindrift Buddy.  Did I say the right things?  Did I speak enough truth into his life?  Did my questions cause him enough discomfort to ignite a spark to send him on a journey of discovery? How can someone think truth into existence? I scanned my bookshelves, attempting to find the perfect book to send to him.  Tim Keller’s  The Reason for God ?  J.I. Packer’s  Knowing God ? Lee Strobel’s  The Case for Christ ?  Any of these would have been wonderful, but I had Amazon send him C.S. Lewis’  Mere Christianity . Why? Because I opened Lewis’ book to chapter 8, ‘The Great Sin’.   “There is one vice of which no man in the world is free…I do not think I have ever heard anyone who was not a Christian accuse himself of this vice… Pride leads to every other vice… It is the complete anti-God state of mind…Whenever we find that our religious life is making us feel that we are good, we may be sure that we are being acted on, not by God, but by the devil.” (Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis) How many in this world are living life like my Spindrift Buddy?  Hard-working, nice, and convinced that if there is a god, they will go to Heaven because they’re good? God’s Word tells us otherwise. “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) “The wages of sin is death.”  (Romans 6:23) “If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord’, and believe in your heart God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” (Romans 10:9) “For God so loved the world, he sent his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”  (John 3:16) Don’t gamble with eternity.  Repent and believe today. © Tessa Lind First published in Pursuing Perfection on Substack by Tessa Lind, tessalind.substack.com

“God’s not afraid of our questions. He made our minds to wonder, and our hearts to seek.” — Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday There it is. For so long, I thought asking questions about my faith was risky at best. After all, who am I to question God or the pastor? The above quote by Rachel is so simple but profound. It helped me a great deal. In fact, I discovered my faith took on a new dimension of peace, confidence, and joy. Rachel wasn’t trying to sound clever. She was offering oxygen to the ones gasping under the weight of performative faith. She handed us a flashlight and said, “Go ahead. It’s okay to look around.” And maybe most shocking of all — she trusted that God would be there in the shadows, with us, too. Questioning is sacred work I grew up with the impression that doubt was something to repent of. Like it was mold on your spiritual fruit. Ask too many questions and people start to squint at you like you’re contagious. But when I look at scripture with fresh eyes, the ones God seemed to draw nearest were often full of questions. Abraham says, “How can I know?” Moses blurts out, “What if they don’t believe me?” Mary dares to ask, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” And then there’s Job, who launches a huge complaint that spans over 30 chapters. If God were bothered by questions, He had plenty of chances to cut Job off. But instead, God joins the conversation — not with condemnation, but with more questions of His own. It’s like God’s message was, “I’m not offended by your ache. I’m right here in it with you.” Even Jesus, hanging on a Roman cross, cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). The Savior of the world, the embodiment of divine love, shouted a question into the silence. If Jesus can question and still be beloved, maybe we can too. Faith isn’t a formula The kind of faith that Rachel talked about — the one that seeks, stumbles, and still shows up — that’s not weak. That’s not lazy. That’s honest. And it might just be the deepest kind. There’s a great line in Ecclesiastes that says, “He has set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Eternity in our hearts…and mystery at the edges. We weren’t made to grasp it all — we were made to wonder . But somewhere along the way, we started treating theology like a math test. Get it all right, or you’re out. Faith became less about seeking and more about defending. Less about being transformed and more about being correct. Rachel flipped the script. She reminded us that God is not fragile. He doesn’t need protecting from our curiosity. In fact, Proverbs calls it “the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to search it out” (Proverbs 25:2). God expects us to dig deeper, not just memorize the answers. The wilderness is holy, too When your faith starts unraveling, it doesn’t feel poetic. It feels like panic. Like everything you held onto suddenly slipped through your fingers, and now your palms are empty — and trembling. But maybe the unraveling is the point . Maybe the wilderness isn’t a punishment — it’s a pathway. After all, Israel didn’t meet God in a palace. They met Him in the desert. Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness (Luke 4:1), not because He’d sinned, but because transformation begins in the wild. And on that dusty road to Emmaus, two heartbroken disciples walked alongside Jesus and didn’t even recognize Him. He let them vent. He let them question. He didn’t interrupt or correct. He just walked with them, until they invited Him in. And when He broke the bread, their eyes were opened (Luke 24:30–31). Not in the moment of theological precision, but in the intimacy of breaking. You’re not by yourself in the asking If you’re in that space where you don’t know what you believe anymore, you’re not broken. You’re not the exception. You’re just human. And you’re in very good company. Brian McLaren once said , “Doubt isn’t the opposite of faith; it’s an element of faith.” Peter Enns reminds us, “God desires our trust, not our correct beliefs.” And Barbara Brown Taylor confesses, “I have learned to prize holy ignorance more than certainty.” None of these folks are trying to burn it all down. They’re just pointing out that faith with room to breathe is the kind that grows roots. Strong ones. James puts it this way: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault” (James 1:5). Read that again — without finding fault . God’s not rolling His eyes when you ask. He’s leaning in. The Gentle Rebuild Some of us have been taught that the goal of faith is certainty. But what if the goal is trust ? Psalm 32:8 says, “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.” That doesn’t sound like a God who barks orders from a distance. That sounds like a God who sticks around. Who teaches patiently. Who doesn’t bail when we ask for directions for the fourth time in the same prayer. And when you’re not sure where to go next — when you feel the fog closing in — there’s this promise from Jeremiah that has held me in my darkest nights: “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13). Not when you figure it all out. Not when you clean yourself up. Just…when you seek. That’s it. Your questions aren’t a liability So here’s the thing: your questions aren’t disqualifying you. They’re drawing you closer. Closer to a God who can’t be reduced to a checklist. Closer to the Spirit who’s not boxed in by doctrine. Closer to Jesus, who never once said, “Blessed are the certain.” No — He said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matthew 5:6). Hunger is not the absence of faith — it’s the beginning of it. A final word for the weary You don’t have to pretend anymore.You ’re allowed to outgrow what once fit.You ’re allowed to ask hard questions and still be held by grace. Faith that can’t survive doubt isn’t faith — it’s fear in disguise. But the faith that can hold doubt? That’s the kind that just might set you free. So go ahead. Ask. Wonder. Wrestle. Because God’s not afraid of your questions, nor is He offended . He made your mind to wonder.He made your heart to seek.And He’s not hiding. You’re seeking. And that’s a good thing. © Gary L Ellis

"Scripture is a portal, not a prison. It opens us up to God’s movement, not a static system of control.” — Rob Bell Photo by Yosi Prihantoro on Unsplash For a lot of us, the Bible has felt more like a rulebook or a history archive than anything alive . I grew up hearing that it was the “Word of God,” but it sounded more like a slogan than something real. I don’t know how many times I heard: B .asic I .nstructions B .efore L .eaving E .arth It’s not that the Scriptures don’t give us practical guidance and wisdom. They do. But here’s what I’ve come to see. The Bible isn’t dead ink. It breathes. It nudges. It comforts and confronts and whispers and roars. 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. Think about it like this. A song can be inspired when it’s written, right? But doesn’t it also become inspired again when someone hears it at just the right moment? 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. A Snapshot, Not the Whole Portrait Now, it’s important to realize: the Bible isn’t the entirety of God. Paul’s letter to pastor Timothy says all Scripture is inspired of God and is profitable. He doesn’t say ONLY scripture is profitable. He’s emphasizing the importance of Scripture for our daily lives. But, he’s not limiting God’s “voice” to only be found in the Bible. If God’s fullness could be crammed into 66 books, we’d be in trouble. He’s not that small. I’ve come to believe that Scripture is a snippet — a living snippet — of God’s personality. It’s not a full biography; it’s more like a collection of letters, journal entries, love poems, raw prayers, and prophetic dreams that are stirrings of His breath through human authors. It’s the kind of book you can read one day and hear grace.Read it another and feel conviction.Come back again and notice an invitation you missed the first ten times. Not because it changed.But because you did.And because God knows how to meet you right where you are — again and again and again. That’s why I also believe it’s important to understand cultural context and what the ancients “heard” as it was spoken or read. HOWEVER… If one isn’t careful, the argument of ancient context can become a prison. It’s important to do one’s best to understand the ancient context. But God’s Spirit can also use modern applications to speak to the reader. Hebrews 4:12 Hits Different When You’ve Lived It “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword…” I used to think that verse just meant “you better watch out or it’ll cut you.” Like Scripture was some kind of razor blade wrapped in leather. But now? I see it differently. That verse is saying: These words move. They work on you. They discern motives, bringing hidden things to light, and don’t sit quietly on the shelf. Both for correction and encouragement. It has a way of showing up when you’re down and saying just what you needed. Or calling you out when you’re headed down the wrong path. It’s not tame. It ’s not stale. It ’s not retired. The Bible still moves because God still speaks through it. A Personality Comes Through Think about it like this — when someone you love leaves a handwritten note for you, it’s not just about the ink. It’s them. It carries their tone, their humor, their quirks. You can almost hear their voice when you read it. That’s how we can experience Scripture. Not all the time. Not every day. But more often than not, when we stop reading it like a textbook and start reading it like a conversation… we catch glimpses of God’s personality shining through. God’s humor can be found in the donkey that talks to Balaam.His heartbreak in the weeping prophets.His wild joy in the Psalms that dance between agony and praise in the same breath. He’s not a monotone God with a clipboard. He’s not a theology professor. He’s a living Presence who said, “I’ll walk with you through this book so you can learn My ways.” Jesus Is the Word — and the Word Has Skin On John said it best: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14) The Bible’s ultimate message isn’t “follow these instructions.”It’s “look at Jesus.” He’s the living Word — the walking, talking, healing, laughing, table-flipping embodiment of God’s heart. So when we read the Bible, we’re not just chasing verses. We’re chasing Him . And we’re reminded that God wanted so badly to be known that He stepped into our mess, wore our skin, and told stories that still cut through cultural fog two thousand years later. Why It Still Works You can have a day where your heart feels dry, your prayers feel stuck, and you open the Bible not even expecting much. And boom — one line, one image, one phrase jumps out and lights a fire in your soul. Why? Because it’s not about how spiritual you are in the moment.It ’s about how faithful God is to keep showing up. As Rob Bell once said, “The Bible is not a static work, but a dynamic conversation.” And the conversation keeps going. It Doesn’t Always Say What We Expect Sometimes the Bible offends us. Challenges us. Convicts as well as encourages us. And that’s a good thing. Because if this book only ever confirmed what we already believe, it wouldn’t be holy — it’d be a mirror of our own opinions. Instead, it stretches us. Breaks our boxes. Rewrites our definitions of power, love, justice, and grace. Not easy. But real.Not always clear. But always present. It’s an Invitation, Not a Report Card Too many of us were taught to use the Bible like a grading scale. You know what I mean: Read more, do better, follow tighter, or God’s gonna be disappointed. But now I read it like a letter from Someone who wants to be close. Not Someone who’s out to bust me. God didn’t give us Scripture to trap us. He gave it so we’d have something to cling to, wrestle with, return to, and breathe in on our worst days.It ’s not a measuring stick. It’s a doorway. And behind it is Someone worth knowing. Final Thought: Open the Letter Again Maybe you’ve drifted. Maybe it’s felt boring. Or too confusing. Or like it was weaponized against you. But here’s what I’d say: Try again. Not to earn anything. Not to impress anybody. Just to connect. Open the Psalms and let someone else’s ancient cry match your modern ache.Read a gospel and let Jesus interrupt your assumptions. Sit with a letter from Paul and hear a man who once murdered Christians now cry over them. Let the Bible remind you that God didn’t stop talking. Even now, it’s not finished.Because every time it speaks to you in a new way — it’s alive again. A small snippet of God’s personality on paper…So we’d never forget He wants to be known. © Gary L Ellis

In fact, it became the doorway to greater faith. “Doubt isn’t the enemy of faith. It’s often the path to a deeper one.” — Rachel Held Evans I’m no longer afraid of dealing with doubts. I used to think it meant I wasn’t a faithful follower of Christ. Not believing didn’t fit the version of Christianity I had been handed. Doubt, in that world, was treated like a disease. If you had doubts, you were either backsliding, disobedient, or not truly saved. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, it was the process of dealing with doubt that I discovered a richer relationship with Christ. I wasn’t leaving Christ. I was finding Him in great reality. What They Never Told Me About Thomas We all know the nickname — Doubting Thomas. He gets a bad rap. But the more I read his story, the more I saw myself in it. When the disciples told him they’d seen the risen Jesus, Thomas didn’t clap his hands and sing a hymn. He said, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were…I will not believe” (John 20:25). What happened next? Jesus showed up. And not with a slap on the wrist. Not with a lecture. He looked at Thomas and said, “Put your finger here… Stop doubting and believe.” But catch this — Jesus didn’t shame him. And Thomas? He gave the most personal declaration of faith recorded in the gospels: “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28). Doubt wasn’t the end of Thomas’s story. It was the doorway to something deeper. Doubt Wasn’t My Exit. It Was My Invitation. I used to think doubt disqualified me. That faith was only for those who were always certain. But now I believe doubt is like a knock at the door. Something is trying to get my attention — not to destroy faith, but to deepen it. Break it open. Rebuild it honestly. As Rachel Held Evans once said, “The opposite of faith isn’t doubt. It’s certainty.” That one turned my old theology on its head. But it also set me free. Free to wrestle. Free to breathe. The Sunday I Prayed with Grit Instead of Grace There was one Sunday I’ll never forget. I had shown up to church out of habit, not hope. The songs felt hollow. The sermon was another TED talk with a Bible verse. When the pastor said, “Let’s pray,” I didn’t close my eyes. I folded my arms and whispered under my breath, God, if You’re real, I need You to make this personal again. I didn’t hear a voice. No lightning bolt. But something happened. It was like God leaned in and said, Finally, you’re being honest. That became the turning point. Not the end of doubt — but the beginning of honesty. And that’s when I realized: God doesn’t bless performance. He meets us in truth. The Bible is Full of Doubters — And God Didn’t Kick Them Out Let’s not forget Job. The guy spent 38 chapters doubting, ranting, and begging God to just explain Himself. God didn’t send lightning. He answered Job out of a whirlwind. David? The man after God’s own heart? Half his psalms sound like breakup letters. “Why have you abandoned me?” (Psalm 22:1). Elijah begged God to kill him . John the Baptist questioned everything in a prison cell. Even Jesus cried out, “Why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). That’s not spiritual failure. That’s human honesty. And God meets people there. Not in their showmanship, but in their shadows. Faith With Bruises Is Still Faith There’s a difference between giving up and giving your doubt to God. I used to think faith was about standing tall, chin up, never wavering. But now I know faith sometimes looks like limping forward, whispering, “I’m still here.” I love these words of Frederick Buechner: “Doubt is the ants in the pants of faith. It keeps it awake and moving.” Faith that never questions is brittle. Faith that wrestles grows muscle. Certainty Builds Walls. Curiosity Builds Bridges. I had to unlearn a lot. I had to stop thinking doubt was a slippery slope and start seeing it as a path into deeper waters. I stopped fearing the questions and started inviting them to the table. I realized: God doesn’t need me to defend Him. He’s not insecure. He doesn’t need my fake certainty. He wants my real soul. Doubt didn’t lead me away from God. It led me out of a system that couldn’t hold my questions. And once I left that cramped little room of “just believe harder,” I found a wide open field where I could walk with God again. When You’re Afraid Your Doubt Disqualifies You If that’s you — sitting there with more questions than answers, wondering if you still belong — I get it. But here’s what I’ve learned: God’s not allergic to your questions. He’s not pacing the floor, biting His nails, waiting for you to snap out of it. He’s walking beside you in the silence. Sitting next to you. Catching your tears when all you’ve got left is a sigh. Isaiah 42:3 says, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.” He’s not in the business of throwing you out when the flame flickers. I Didn’t Get All the Answers. I Got a God Who Stayed. I still have questions. But I’ve traded needing answers for needing Presence. I’ve let go of trying to explain everything and leaned into trusting Someone. That’s what changed. Not that all my doubts vanished. But now I know doubt isn’t a door out. It’s a door in. In. To grace. In. To honesty. In. To a greater, freer God than I was ever taught to imagine. Summary: Faith Isn’t Fragile — It’s Fierce When I thought my doubt disqualified me, I almost packed up my spiritual life and walked away. But God wasn’t finished with me. He was just starting something deeper. Doubt didn’t destroy my faith.It purified it. Now I carry a quieter kind of confidence — not in what I know, but in Who knows me. And I’m learning that God doesn’t need perfect believers. He wants honest ones. Takeaway: Doubt is a Companion, Not a Curse So if you’re carrying doubt and don’t have all the answers, don’t hide it. Don’t shame it. Let it speak. Ask the hard questions. Sit in the quiet. And know this: You are not disqualified. You might just be on the verge of finding a faith that can actually breathe. © Gary L Ellis