What do you do when opinions collide with Scripture? (paraphased) I was recently asked that question. It has a straightforward answer, at least to me. There is a reason I write instead of putting myself in front of a camera, it is because answers to questions like that tend to show up on my face before I ever say a word. Being wired the way I am, it is hard not to react when something that should be simple gets treated like it is complicated surgery. The answer is simple. If an opinion does not align with Scripture, I am not going to have anything to do with it. To me, that is basic common sense, and I would not hesitate to say it. I also understand that it does not make me popular. Being grounded in Scripture and not bending to every opinion the world throws out will almost always put me at odds with the popular crowd. That is not new, and it is also something I am not concerned about. But it raises two questions. How many people are actually grounded enough in their faith to live that way? How many are grounded enough in Scripture to even recognize when something is misaligned? Outsourcing So we have an issue in this country that has been building for generations. Well, there are plenty of problems I could point to, but this is the one I want to focus on because it sits underneath so many others. We have slowly been trained to hand off our critical thinking. Instead of us sitting there wrestling with ideas and testing them, we have grown used to letting someone else do that work for us. Teachers, schools, pastors, mentors, leaders, influencers, algorithms, and now even AI, and search engines have become the places we go not just for information, but for conclusions. Over time, that fundamentally changes not just how a person interacts with information, but with everything else in their lives. When people consistently rely on outside sources to tell them what to believe, like, feel, or think, they lose the ability to think critically for themselves. It becomes easy to accept what sounds right on the surface without ever examining what is underneath it. Without the ability to weigh, test, and search things out, people will struggle to recognize when something conflicts with Scripture. And if people cannot clearly recognize the conflict, they will not resist it. The FlipSide Of That There is another problem that has been forming alongside this. Even if someone does recognize it as conflicting with Scripture, do they have the backbone to stand firm and be counter to the crowd? When you have spent most of your life being shaped by what others think, it becomes very difficult to stand alone when your stance is not the popular one. The pressure to agree, to stay quiet, or to blend in can be stronger than the conviction to stand firm, especially if that conviction was never deeply built in the first place. Without exercising the mind, it becomes weak. A person cannot stand on truth if they have never taken the time to study and understand truth. Over time, this creates people who may believe they value Scripture, but in practice, they are far more influenced by the voices around them than the Word in front of them. This is exactly why the example in the Book of Daniel stands out to me. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were not in a situation where they were standing surrounded by people who agreed with them. They were in a situation that demanded conformity, and the consequences were not just social but physical for them. What stands out to me is not just that they refused, but they didn’t hesitate to refuse or engage in an internal debate when that moment came. They did not need time to figure out where they stood with things because they already knew. The situation shows us where their conviction already lay, not that it was formed during what happened. Truly, that kind of response does not come from a borrowed belief system or surface-level understanding. It comes from a faith that had already been tested, studied, prayed on, and thought through. Critical Thinking was used. Conclusion When thinking keeps getting outsourced, people will look around to see what everyone else is doing, what their peers' opinions are, what their leaders' opinions are, etc., before they decide where they stand. What do you do when opinions collide with Scripture? More importantly, what would your response be to that question? Because in the end, your answer reveals exactly where you stand. “Everyone will hate you because of me.” © 2026 Jane Isley. Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Exploring Scripture.

Originally published on Medium, this article is shared here to offer a moment of reflection. We invite you to read with openness and consider what stands out to you personally. When Peter asked Jesus how many times he was expected to forgive — suggesting seven as a generous number — he was voicing the question every honest believer eventually asks. Forgiveness is beautiful, but it is also complicated. What do we do when the hurt is repeated? When the relationship is unsafe? When forgiveness seems to collide with wisdom, boundaries, or protection? Jesus’ answer pointed to the heart of forgiveness, but the rest of Scripture gives us the wisdom to practice forgiveness without remaining in harm’s way. Forgiveness begins as a heart posture toward God, not a reward for the offender. Paul reminds us to forgive as God forgave us (Ephesians 4:32), which means releasing the desire for revenge, letting go of bitterness, and entrusting justice to God. Forgiveness frees the heart, but it does not automatically restore trust. Trust is rebuilt slowly, and sometimes it is never rebuilt at all. This is why it is essential to understand what forgiveness is not. Forgiveness is not reconciliation. It is not pretending the hurt didn’t happen. It is not removing boundaries. It is not ignoring patterns of harm. Even Jesus did not entrust Himself to everyone because He knew what was in the human heart (John 2:24–25). If the Son of God used discernment, His people must do the same. Jesus also taught us to love our enemies, pray for those who persecute us, and bless those who curse us (Matthew 5:44). But loving enemies does not mean enabling them. It does not mean approving their behavior or allowing continued harm. Love desires redemption, not destruction. But love also protects. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is pray from a distance, maintaining boundaries that honor truth and safety. This is also where many believers misunderstand Jesus’ words about “turning the other cheek.” In Jesus’ culture, a slap on the cheek was an insult meant to shame, not an act of physical violence. Jesus was teaching His followers to refuse retaliation, not to remain in danger. Turning the other cheek means we do not escalate conflict or seek revenge — but it does not mean staying in abusive situations, removing boundaries, or accepting mistreatment as God’s will. Jesus never asked anyone to stay where their safety was threatened. This brings us to a tender and necessary truth: forgiveness never requires remaining in an abusive or dangerous situation. Many believers have been told that staying in harm’s way is a sign of faithfulness, but Scripture never commands that. In fact, the Bible consistently protects the vulnerable. God is a refuge for the oppressed (Psalm 9:9). He hates violence (Psalm 11:5). He calls His people to rescue those in danger (Proverbs 24:11–12). Paul fled danger repeatedly (Acts 9:23–25; Acts 14:5–6). Even Jesus withdrew from violent threats until His appointed hour (John 8:59; John 10:39). Leaving an abusive situation is not a lack of forgiveness but demonstrates wisdom. It is stewardship of the life God entrusted to you. You can forgive someone and still leave. You can forgive someone and still involve authorities. You can forgive someone and never return. Forgiveness releases the desire for revenge; it does not remove consequences. It does not restore trust. It does not require reconciliation. It does not give the offender access to your life. Sometimes leaving is the most loving thing you can do, not to punish the abuser but to stop enabling the cycle. Consequences are often the only doorway to repentance. Forgiveness frees your heart; leaving protects your life. Understanding this balance helps us see why Jesus’ suffering on the cross cannot be used as a model for accepting abuse. His suffering was voluntary, redemptive, and mission‑specific (John 10:18). He laid down His life as part of the atonement. It’s not an example of staying in harm’s way. Christians are called to take up their cross, meaning surrendering self‑rule, not surrendering safety to abusers. Scripture also affirms the legitimacy of self‑defense and protection. The law in Exodus 22 acknowledges the right to defend one’s household. Nehemiah’s builders worked with tools in one hand and protection in the other (Nehemiah 4:17–18). Paul used legal means to protect himself from unjust harm (Acts 22:25–29). Jesus even instructed His disciples to prepare for practical protection as they traveled (Luke 22:36). Protecting life is not vengeance. It is stewardship. So how do we forgive as God forgives? Scripture paints a beautiful picture. God forgives with mercy that refuses revenge (Psalm 103:10). He forgives with compassion that removes our sins as far as east is from west (Psalm 103:12). He forgives with wisdom, disciplining those He loves while restoring them (Hebrews 12:6). His forgiveness is full, but it is not naïve. It is gracious, but it is not gullible. It is merciful, but it is not blind. Forgiving like God means releasing revenge, refusing condemnation, and maintaining wisdom. It means letting go of bitterness while holding onto boundaries. It means entrusting justice to God while protecting the life He gave you. It means loving others without enabling harm. Forgiveness frees the heart. Boundaries protect life. Justice belongs to God. This is the balance Scripture offers and the freedom Christ invites us into. © 2026 Randy DeVaul, M.A. Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Relationships.

There comes a moment in every life when we pause long enough to look back. Not with bitterness, and not with despair, but with the sober honesty that only time can teach. The seasons behind us begin to take shape: spring with its energy and innocence, summer with its work and responsibility, autumn with its wisdom, and winter with its clarity and legacy. Each season carries its own beauty, and each one leaves its own mark. But as we age, we also recognize something else: there were opportunities we didn’t take. There were conversations we postponed, ministries we delayed, relationships we didn’t mend, and nudges from the Spirit we didn’t follow. Scripture gives voice to that ache in a single, haunting line from Jeremiah, where the people lament that “the harvest is past, the summer is ended” (Jeremiah 8:20). It is the cry of a heart that realizes a season has slipped away. Many older adults know that feeling well. We look back on our “summer years” — the decades of activity, responsibility, and productivity — and we see moments we wish we could reclaim. We feel the weight of what might have been. That feeling is not foreign to Scripture, nor is it rejected by God. In fact, He meets us right there. Yet the beauty of the gospel is that God never leaves us in regret. Jeremiah’s lament is not the end of the story. It becomes the doorway to renewed clarity, deeper wisdom, and fresh purpose. The sorrow of missed opportunities becomes the soil where new obedience can grow. The ache of the past becomes the teacher that shapes our future. As we move into the “autumn years,” we discover that this season is not defined by decline but by depth. Autumn is when fruit ripens. It is when colors become richer. It is when the air grows clearer and the horizon stretches wider. Scripture reminds us that wisdom is found with the aged and understanding in the length of days (Job 12:12). The years behind us have not been wasted; they have been preparing us for a season of influence, mentoring, and spiritual clarity. But to step into this renewed purpose, we must make a spiritual movement that Scripture describes with remarkable tenderness. It begins with recognition of seeing the opportunities we missed. It moves to remorse — a form of sorrow — not shame, but the honest grief that acknowledges what could have been. Then comes reflection, the willingness to learn from the past without living in it. After that comes release, the moment when we “forget what lies behind” and turn our face toward what God still has ahead (Philippians 3:13). From there, God brings renewal, stirring a fresh spirit within us. And finally, we re-engage, stepping into new opportunities with the wisdom and courage that only years can give. This movement is not theoretical. It is deeply practical. Many seniors discover that the conversations they once avoided now feel urgent. The relationships they once neglected now feel precious. The ministries they once postponed now feel essential. The faith they once held quietly now feels like a legacy worth passing on. God uses our past to awaken us, not condemn us. And He does something even more beautiful: He opens new doors. Scripture reminds us that God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22–23), and that includes the mornings of our later years. The God who designed earth’s seasons (Genesis 8:22) also designed the seasons of our lives. None of them are wasted. None of them are without purpose. None of them fall outside His redeeming hand. So, what does it look like to live with renewed purpose in the autumn years? It looks like choosing to bless rather than withdraw. It looks like offering wisdom rather than assuming no one wants to hear it. It looks like praying with greater fervency, loving with greater tenderness, and serving with greater intentionality. It looks like recognizing that every day we are given is a day to influence someone’s faith, encourage someone’s heart, or strengthen someone’s walk with God. The truth is, we all have missed opportunities. But we also all have new ones. The God who walked with us through spring and summer walks with us still. He is not finished writing our story. He is not finished shaping our legacy. And He is not finished using us for His glory. Jeremiah’s lament may echo in our hearts at times, but Paul’s encouragement carries us forward: we press on. We move ahead. We step into the future with hope. The autumn years are not the end. They are the season where wisdom ripens, purpose deepens, and faith shines with a steady, enduring glow. And in God’s hands, even missed summers can lead to a beautiful harvest. © 2026 Randy DeVaul, MA. Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Knowing God

“Then the Lord said, ‘My Spirit will not contend with humans forever, for they are mortal; their days will be a hundred and twenty years.” Genesis 6:3 Originally, I wrote this article just for fun. Then, in conversation, someone asked a serious question: “What does this mean? Why does Genesis say this, yet people still lived past 120 years?” That got me thinking harder about this passage, so I dug and ignored my opinion. First and a big foremost. My original opinion was way off. Even I knew I didn’t quite understand it, hence why I said “I have my own thoughts” in the first place. Behold my excerpts below: “but I have my own thoughts on the matter.” “Only God knows everyone’s age; there is no way in the world we could possibly know the oldest people still alive, what their ages are, and when they passed.” “What if the last person to live to 120 years old passes, and that’s the time God will come back?” Kind of embarrassing, but we’ll move on. Let’s look at my boring Canva image and read verses 1–6. Canva —Genesis 6:1–6 Now, I’m going to show only what the Bible is saying and nothing more. Also, for the sake of my sanity, I am not touching the Nephilim thing. Context is key. I took that section out of context and inserted a wild theory, but now let’s put it back into context, and what do we see? This was not a statement about mankind's lifespan being limited. This is a statement from God Himself about the situation happening on Earth. Some bad stuff was going down, God saw it and started setting a plan in motion. The topic of lifespans for humanity is actually not found in the flood story at all, and we are very aware that people lived way beyond 120 years. That right there should have clued me into the “more” going on here. This “outlier” verse isn’t an outlier after all. It’s to do with this situation. In fact, it is perfectly placed right in the middle of what’s going on. Apparent Contradiction? At the start of this passage, we see God talking about this situation that is unfolding before His eyes, and He is not pleased one bit. And we know God doesn’t contradict Himself, so now the question becomes: What does this really mean? Different translations render it as: NASB: “nevertheless his days shall be” NIV: “their days will be” ASV: “yet shall his days be” (If you caught it, sweet, if not….neither did I, so don’t feel bad.) This was a judgment. Now things are making a bit more sense, but I do know this question will pop into heads. If there was judgment, how was that fair if there were no prophets, preachers, etc to speak God’s truth? Meet Methuselah. The son of none other than Enoch, the man who walked with God, and the Father of Lamech (the good one) and grandfather of Noah. In the 2nd Testament, we learn a few key things about these gentlemen. (btw, this is an example of why the 1st Testament is still very relevant) “Noah with seven others, a preacher of righteousness” 2 Peter 2:5 “And to these also Enoch, the seventh from Adam, prophesied” Jude 1:14 Then Lamech made a prophecy about his son Noah when he was born: “He will comfort us in the labor and painful toil of our hands caused by the ground the Lord has cursed.” Genesis 5:29 Judgement was declared, they were warned, and Grace was given. They had 120 years of God’s grace to get their crap sorted out, and we all know how that went. So, that 120-year judgment wasn’t directly tied to the amount of time Noah had to build the ark because we don’t actually know when he started. God didn’t go to Noah and say, "You have exactly 120 years to build the ark.” God first declared the judgment, then went to Noah, so Noah knew the timeline to be done by. If you open your Bible and go to Genesis 6:13, read that, then go back to verse 6. Go back and forth a few times, and you’ll notice something neat. It’s very similar to Genesis 1 and 2, both saying the same thing just in different ways. One from God’s view (cosmic), the other from Noah’s. (personal) From the moment God declared 120 years, it was the beginning of His countdown to worldwide judgment. Something to think about. There was a clear, definitive time and date stamp on this judgment, with people preaching this. God gave a grace period. And they didn’t listen. Maybe it is for the best that we don’t know the time and date stamp for us now. Because getting as close to that line as possible and being a willful sinner, then “repenting” will get you absolutely nowhere. Side Note: This whole article should show if you are not sure, state it as an opinion, thought, or possibly, or just say you're not sure, let’s find out. I openly stated “my own thoughts” and “what if” because I was honest. But then when I was presented with the question, I went back into to Bible, dug around, and found the answer. I did not double down and create my own doctrine, which very well could have led people way off course. There is absolutely nothing wrong with learning or re-learning something and admitting it. (definitely a big ole’ revision from the original) © Jane Isley

I’m currently working my way through a couple of books, and some online research, and a thought popped into my head, related to what I’m currently reading. The Root of the Problem I do this; we all do this. When we see a conflict, fight, disagreement, discord, etc., we are looking for the reason(s). I can look at an issue and list all sorts of reasons that either led to it or contributed to it, which causes it to be one giant, entangled snowball. The example I will be using for this article is technology in the classroom, since it is the least likely to cause a public outcry. Consistent use of technology and reliance on technology in schools has taken a massive hit on our students. This isn’t a post covid rant either; this trend has been going on for quite some time, but really ramped up in recent years. A 2025 article from ABC News uses the title “US students’ reading and math scores at historic lows: ‘Devastating trend’” to sum it up in a nutshell. The Reasons That Get Blamed If you read about the drop in reading, writing, and math skills, you will run into a lot of different reasons that are blamed. Technology is the leading contender, both what students use and work with in the class itself, as well as cell phones being allowed in schools. Other reasons that have been blamed over the years are things like a lack of money in districts, one-parent homes, unmotivated students, bad teachers, good study habits not being taught, mental health, and chronic absenteeism, just to name a few. But I find this next article's title to be the most telling and will ultimately go right to the point I am about to make, and that point isn’t just about education either. It just happens to be the safest example I can use. “Test scores are down, but experts don’t know exactly why.” I Know Why People are so busy chasing reasons that ignore miss the cause. Sin The example reasons I listed are not root causes; they are the fruit, and the fruit will never change until the root cause is addressed. The experts keep trying to treat the fruit. But nobody wants to face the root. “Make a tree good and its fruit will be good, or make a tree bad and its fruit will be bad, for a tree is recognized by its fruit.” Matthew 12:33 © 2026 Jane Isley. Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Rethinking Doctrine.

To answer your question, yup, the word unicorn is most definitely still used in some Bible translations, the question is was it a mistranslation, or real history. All nine verses below are from the 21st Century King James Version. “the strength of a unicorn.” Num 23:22 “the strength of a unicorn.” Num 24:8 “and his horns are like the horns of unicorns.” Dt 33:17 “Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib?” Job 39:9 “Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band to the furrow?” Job 39:10 “for Thou hast heard Me from the horns of the unicorns.” Ps 22:21 “like a young unicorn.” Ps 29:6 “But my horn shalt Thou exalt like the horn of a unicorn;” Ps 92:10 “And the unicorns shall come down with them,” Isa 34:7 So, does that make this mythological creature true? Well, I’ve discovered a yes and no answer here; the yes part is actually pretty awesome, so stick around. First, here’s the short history lesson on how the word unicorn landed in the Bible in the first place. The Hebrew word translated into unicorn is re’em, then the Greeks came along with the Septuagint and took re’em and translated that to monokeros, which means single horn (unicorn). Then the Vulgate kept that literal translation and used the word unicorn and finally came along the King James translation, and they kept to that literal Latin word, and voila — you get unicorn, and they just might have gotten it right, in a weird way. Now to the fun stuff. The animal used in these Biblical descriptions doesn’t fit the mythical unicorns we hear about from mythology. This animal is used to describe great strength, and Ps 29:6 indicates a calf, not a foal or colt. Meaning not horse-like in appearance. Trust me, they knew the difference, Zechariah 9:9. So, I got curious and found two things. The first thing is where the traditional, as we know it, unicorn myth got its start. A dude named Ctesias from 4th century BCE spotted something in India and this is what he said about it “fleet of foot, having a horn a cubit and a half in length, and coloured white, red and black” (1) But then he goes on to describe another animal with similar makings, which kind of rules out his first description, then a few other key people added more over time. Honestly, check out the article, it’s fun and right to the point. It’ll go through everything on the mythology side of things. Because I've got something cooler I want to show you. bbc.com The Siberian Unicorn (Elasmotherium sibiricum) And yup, he was real and he was a rhino (extinct now), so those who translate that animal into rhinoceros may also be very correct, because the Siberian Unicorn was a hairy rhino. Here’s what they know about this big guy. “were likely vegetarians, have been described as weighing up to four tons and standing two meters tall by nearly five meters long” (2) “despite its massive size and prominent shoulder hump, it is thought that the Siberian unicorn was actually adapted to running at speed.” (3) “roamed the grasslands of Eurasia” (4) “ recent discovery of a well-preserved skull in Kazakhstan.” (2) “may have eventually died out because it was such a picky eater.” (4) It’s a wee tricky to see, but the blue dots were the Siberian Unicorns (Elasmotherium sibiricum) roaming areas, for lack of a better term. wikipedia.com I’m zeroing in on Ps 26:9 because David specifically used the word calf, not colt or foal. So somewhere along the line, David knew about these animals. I decided to use Google Maps and see how far Lebanon (where he was when he wrote Ps 29:6) was from Kazakhstan. googlemaps.com According to Google Maps, he was only 999 (walking) hours away from where this recent finding of a not quite as long extinct as thought Siberian Unicorn. If you’re wondering, that's only 42 walking days away, well, 41.625 to be exact. We know Jesus as His disciples walked a lot more than that, plus they had camels, donkeys, and horses to travel on. So 42 days was nothing to them, and easy enough for travelers to go around talking about these big guys as well. My conclusion? How cool is this? A lot of people use the unicorn translation to discredit Bible translations, and others use it to say it’s all made up because there are verses that talk about the fabled mythical unicorn. Maybe the writers of the Bible weren’t wrong after all, and we just had a different vision of what we think a unicorn should look like? Either way, I think this is a very neat piece of the pie that some might have fun learning about. © 2026 Jane Isley Sources: (1) St. Neots Museum: Unicorns — a brief history (2) The Times of Israel; Humans, ‘unicorns’ may have walked Earth together. (3) Natural History Museum; The Siberian unicorn lived at the same time as modern humans. (4) BBC; ‘Siberian unicorn’ walked Earth with humans. Biblehub.com; What does the Bible say about unicorns?

Why should you care about a story written two thousand years ago about a man named Lazarus? Because whether we like it or not, every one of us lives with the same quiet reality in the background. Death. Most of the time, we don’t think about it. We stay busy, make plans, and assume life will continue unfolding in predictable ways. But every so often, something interrupts that illusion. A phone call, a headline, a loss that feels too close. And we’re reminded how fragile everything really is. And when that happens, questions surface that are difficult to ignore. Why does death feel so wrong? Why does it hit so deeply, even when we know it’s inevitable? And if God exists, why doesn’t He step in? John 11 brings us into one of the most well-known stories in the Bible, the raising of Lazarus. But when you slow down and sit with it, the story is not just impressive. It’s unsettling. Jesus hears that His close friend Lazarus is sick. This isn’t a distant acquaintance. This is someone He loves. The expectation feels obvious. He will go immediately and heal him. But instead, the text tells us that Jesus stays where He is for two more days. That delay changes everything. It means that while Jesus waits, Mary and Martha are watching their brother get worse. They are hoping, praying, and likely wondering why help hasn’t come. Two days doesn’t sound like much until you’re the one living inside of it. By the time Jesus finally arrives, Lazarus has been dead for four days. This is no longer a situation that can be reversed. It feels final in the way that only death can feel final. And so the question emerges, both in the text and in our own lives. if Jesus had the power to heal, why didn’t He prevent this? That question has never really gone away. It shows up in hospital rooms, at funerals, and in the quiet spaces where life doesn’t unfold the way we hoped it would. Most of us, in one way or another, have encountered its weight. Sometimes it’s deeply personal. The loss of someone who mattered to you in a way that words can’t fully capture. Other times it’s more distant but still unsettling. I remember hearing about Kobe Bryant’s death and feeling a kind of disbelief. For many of us, he seemed larger than life, almost immune to the fragility that defines the rest of us. And yet, even he wasn’t. Death has a way of leveling everything. It doesn’t matter how successful you are, how young you are, or how much you’ve planned ahead. When it comes, it almost always feels like it came too soon. In response, we try to cope in different ways. Some attempt to outrun it by maximizing life, filling every moment with experience and activity. Others try to control it, investing in health, longevity, and the hope that we might delay the inevitable long enough to feel secure. But beneath all of it is the same quiet acknowledgment. We know we cannot ultimately win. This is what makes Jesus’ delay in John 11 so difficult to understand. He had the power to prevent Lazarus’ death, and yet He chose not to act immediately. When He finally speaks, He says something that feels almost disorienting, “Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe.” At first glance, that can sound cold. It seems to suggest that something more is happening than simply resolving the immediate pain. At the very least, the story invites us to hold onto two realities at the same time. First, hardship is not evidence of God’s absence. Second, there are moments when God is doing something deeper than we can see in the moment, even when it doesn’t align with what we would have chosen. Still, that raises an uncomfortable question. Does that mean God is distant, orchestrating events from afar? Right in the middle of that tension, we are given one of the shortest and most profound verses in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” These two words carry more weight than we often realize. Jesus already knows what He is about to do. He knows Lazarus will be raised. He knows this story will not end in tragedy. And yet, when He stands in the presence of grief, He does not rush past it. He enters into it. He weeps with Mary and Martha. He allows Himself to feel the weight of their loss. This moment reveals something essential about the nature of God. He is not detached from human suffering, nor is He indifferent to our pain. He is fully present within it. Before He changes the situation, He acknowledges it. Before He resolves the grief, He shares in it. This reframes how we understand His delay. Whatever God is doing, it is not disconnected from love. Jesus is not a distant observer or a calculating strategist. He is present, compassionate, and deeply moved by the pain of the people He loves. Then the story shifts. Jesus approaches the tomb. The grief is still there, the confusion still lingering. The stone is in place, and death still feels final. And in that moment, Jesus says something that would sound almost unbelievable if it weren’t about to be proven, “I am the resurrection and the life.” This is not simply a claim about what He can do, but about who He is. He asks for the stone to be moved. There is hesitation, understandable resistance, but eventually it is done. Then, in the stillness that follows, Jesus calls out, “Lazarus, come out.” What happens next is almost beyond comprehension. Lazarus walks out of the tomb, still wrapped in burial cloths, but alive. The shock of that moment must have been overwhelming. Grief collides with disbelief, fear with joy. Death, which had seemed final just moments before, is suddenly undone. But this miracle is not just about Lazarus. It points beyond itself. It is the final and most significant sign in the Gospel of John, and it sets in motion the events that will lead to Jesus’ own death. From that moment on, opposition against Him becomes decisive. In giving life to Lazarus, Jesus is moving toward His own death. This reveals a deeper layer to the story. Jesus gives life, knowing it will cost Him everything. And even then, Lazarus’ life is temporary. He will die again one day. This miracle is not the final answer to death, but a sign pointing to something greater. When Jesus says, “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live,” He is speaking of more than physical life. He is pointing to a life that death cannot ultimately overcome. The raising of Lazarus is a preview of that reality, a glimpse of the greater resurrection to come. Without God, death is simply the end. It is the natural conclusion of life, the closing of the story. And yet, that is not how we experience it. We grieve deeply, we resist instinctively, and we sense that something about it is not right. The Christian story affirms that instinct. It tells us that death is not merely natural. It is an enemy. And more than that, it tells us that this enemy has been defeated. This is why Christian hope feels different. It does not deny grief or pretend that loss does not hurt. Jesus Himself wept, and so we are free to do the same. But it also refuses to accept death as the final word. For those who trust in Jesus, death is not the end of the story. It is not meaningless, and it is not permanent. At the center of this passage, Jesus asks Martha a question that extends beyond the moment and into our own lives, “Do you believe this?” It is not simply a theological question, but a deeply personal one. Do we believe that death does not have the final say? Do we believe that Jesus is who He claims to be? And if we do, what would it look like to actually live as if that were true? Because if this is true, then it reshapes more than just how we think about death. It reshapes how we live. It changes what we value, what we fear, and what we hold onto. And it forces us to consider a deeper question. Not just what happens when we die, but what we are living for while we are still here. © David Jun

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” Psalm 119:105 I grew up as a conservative, evangelical fundamentalist. When I read the verse or heard it from the pulpit, I thought it meant: Read your Bible. It’s the inherent, infallible Words from the mouth of God. And, in reality, the belief was intended to reinforce the notion that the preacher’s dogmas (called doctrines) represented God's word and will on the matter.But here’s the thing This verse isn’t about the leatherbound book we were holding in our hands. In Psalm 119:105, King David was honoring a reality about something much bigger, deeper, older, and more alive than that. Not Ink on a Page, But Voice in the Dark The Hebrew word translated as “word” here is dābār (דָבָר). And boy, does it carry some weight. It doesn’t just mean a written sentence. It’s not “Bible” in the way we think of the Bible today. When Psalm 119 was written, the Scriptures were still being formed. There was no complete canon. No table of contents. Not even a New Testament. Dābār means “spoken word, utterance, message, command, or promise.” It’s what is said, not just what is written. Dābār is a revelation. A promise. A direction. God’s heartbeat. Think of it like this: If you’re walking a dark trail and someone hands you a flashlight, you’re not going to stop and analyze the flashlight’s owner’s manual. You’re going to use the light to take a step. That’s what the psalmist is getting at. God’s word isn’t just an instruction manual — it’s a presence that leads. What “Word” Really Meant Back Then To the original audience, “God’s word” would have meant everything from The spoken commands of God The laws and promises passed down The stories and songs of His faithfulness The whispers of God’s voice in prayer and dreams It’s not limited to a scroll or a chapter-and-verse reference. It’s not confined to ancient ink. Does It Breathe? Today, we often ask: is the Bible literal or metaphorical? Is it fact or fiction? But maybe the better question is: does it breathe? When we read Scripture just to win arguments or prove our side, it becomes a dead thing. But when we read it like we’re sitting in a quiet room with a loving Presence just waiting to whisper through the pages, that’s when Scripture becomes alive again. It becomes more than words. It becomes something that lives inside you. Jesus Is the Word, Too Let’s fast-forward to the New Testament. John 1:1 says:“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Jesus is called the Word (Logos in Greek). Which means the fullness of God’s message isn’t even a scroll, it’s a person. So when you read, “Your word is a lamp to my feet,” it could just as easily be understood to mean: Jesus is the one lighting my path. The Spirit’s whisper is showing me the next step. God’s presence is what keeps me from tripping over the rocks in the dark. Guidance, Not Control Let’s be real. Sometimes we want the Bible to be a GPS. "Turn left in 400 feet." "Forgive your ex. Reconcile by Thursday." But more often, it works like a lantern in the fog. It gives us enough light to take the next step, not the whole map. Brian Zahnd says: “God didn’t give us a road map. God gave us a traveling companion.” The Word of God is that companion. What This Means for You So when you open Psalm 119:105 now, read it with bigger eyes: Yes, read your Bible. But more than that, listen for God’s voice behind the words. Trust that God’s light shows up in more ways than just print. Know that you’re not walking alone. The same God who spoke stars into being still speaks into your dark places. Because the lamp isn’t a book. It’s a Presence. Not Just a Verse. A Lifeline. Psalm 119:105 isn’t decor or a particular doctrine. It’s survival. It’s what we cling to when we can’t see past the pain or fear or confusion. God’s word, spoken, written, whispered, felt, lights the next inch. And that’s enough. Richard Rohr puts it this way: “God comes to us disguised as our life.” So the path you’re on? The doubts you carry? The moment you need direction? God is speaking there. Right in the middle of it. Not just through chapter and verse, but through the flickering light of His nearness. Final Thought: Let the Word Be Bigger Let God’s word be bigger than the Bible, not instead of it, but beyond it. Let it be the whisper in the silence. The friend with wise words. The story that heals you. The nudge you can’t explain. The Jesus you meet when you least expect it. Because His word is more than pages. It’s the lamp that shows us how to take just one more step. And that, my friend, is enough light for the path. © Gary L Ellis Gary L. Ellis (1944–2026) served as an editor and contributor to this publication. His work remains part of our archive in grateful remembrance.

Most of us don’t even realize we’re wearing a set of glasses when we read the Bible. The one that church, Sunday school, and Aunt Marge’s fridge magnets handed you before you could form your own thoughts. And those lenses? They can paint God with different images. Normally, the one that looks like what you already believe to be true. The great challenge is: changing lenses you’ve worn for a long time isn’t as easy as, like my dad used to say, “as easy as pie.” It’s like trying to unhear a bad song stuck in your head. You’ve got to actually retrain the way you read…which takes time. So, what helps? First: Admit the thing’s glued to your face You can’t ditch something you won’t admit you’ve got. I used to think my way of reading the Bible was the Bible. Like I was just “reading it straight.” Nope. Turns out I was hauling around years of sermons, youth group warnings about “worldly influences,” and this running fear that if I read it wrong, God might smite me or at least frown a lot. Then: Make Jesus the filter Look, if you’ve got to use a filter (and we all do), make it Jesus. Not the Jesus from fear-based tracts, but the actual Gospels Jesus. The one who touched people no one else would touch. Who didn’t back down from calling out hypocrisy, But also didn’t seem obsessed with “catching” sinners. So now, if I read something that doesn’t sound like Him? I pause. I dig. I ask if maybe this is more about how people thought God was than how God actually is. If Jesus is “the exact representation of God’s being” (Hebrews 1:3), then He’s the clearest lens I’ve got. Stop playing verse hopscotch The old lens loves to cherry-pick verses. You know the game: take Jeremiah 17:9 (“The heart is deceitful…”) to prove we’re all rotten, and just skip right past Ezekiel 36:26 where God promises a new heart. Or, 2 Corinthians 5:17 that says we’re new creations in Christ Jesus. 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. It’s not a legal code or rule book that only “we understand correctly” dropped from heaven. And that changes everything. See the fingerprints This was huge for me, realizing the Bible was written by actual people. Not puppets being controlled by a cosmic power to exactly repeat its words. They were people with culture, opinions, blind spots. They wrote poetry, history, laments, letters. Sometimes they contradict each other. Sometimes their picture of God changes as they go. That doesn’t make it less holy. If anything, it makes it more real to me. Because it means God’s not afraid of working through human messiness. Get curious, not scared I used to read with this low-grade anxiety that I’d land on the wrong side of God. That makes you read defensively, like the text is a trap. Now I try to read with curiosity: What’s here about love? What’s here about mercy? What’s here that challenges my assumptions? And sometimes I just sit with the stuff that doesn’t make sense yet. I don’t force it into a neat box anymore. Let go of needing to be 100% sure Saying “I don’t know” is a high form of intelligence and honesty. “Wisdom is not certitude. It’s the ability to live with doubt and to admit when we don’t know.” Jostein Gaarder The old lens promised certainty if I just read “the right way.” The problem is, that “right way” always seemed to belong to whoever was holding the mic. I’ve learned that faith isn’t the same as certainty. Nadia Bolz-Weber nailed it when she said, “The opposite of faith isn’t doubt, it’s certainty. Faith has some movement in it. Some trust. Some “I don’t know yet, but I’m hanging on.” Pray differently before you read I don’t mean “pray harder so you get it right.” I mean…pray honest. My go-to is something like: "God, show me who You really are, not who I’ve been told You are. Let love be the thing that helps me sort what’s worth holding onto." It’s amazing how different a passage feels when I start from that place. Keep love as the bottom line This one’s easy to say, hard to practice. Jesus boiled it down, love God, love your neighbor. Paul backed it up: “the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love” Gal 5:6 So if my reading leads me toward more judgment, fear, or pride, I probably slipped the old lens back on. Give yourself permission to grow Your understanding of the Bible should change over time. That’s not “backsliding,” that’s…being alive…being honest. When you were a kid, you probably thought your parents could fix anything. As you grew, you saw their flaws, but hopefully also their love in a deeper way. God’s like that too, the more clearly you see Him, the more the cardboard cutout version fades. And that’s good news. Final thoughts Here’s the important thing: reading without the old lens is not a one-and-done. It’s a lifelong thing. You’ll catch yourself slipping back into old frames now and then. You’ll still hear echoes of fear-based teaching in your head. But every time you pause, every time you choose love over fear, every time you let Jesus be the clearest picture of God, that’s another crack in the old glass. And little by little, the view gets clearer. © Gary L Ellis Gary L. Ellis (1944–2026) served as an editor and contributor to this publication. His work remains part of our archive in grateful remembrance.

I haven’t written here in months because life pulled me into quiet seasons, and in the silence, I sometimes wondered if I had been forgotten by people, opportunities, or even by God. But being out of sight doesn’t mean being abandoned. Sometimes, it’s God’s own way of pulling you back to prepare you for what’s next, and so His pause isn’t punishment, it’s purpose. The Lie We Believe Most Times When life slows and doors close, it’s easy to think we’ve been set back. Our culture keeps telling us that visibility equals value, applause equals worth, and speed equals success. So when the spotlight fades, insecurity begins to sneak in subtly. I need you to understand that silence is not absence. God’s pullback is intentional, and though the world may not see you right now, but He is shaping you where it matters most, especially in the hidden, unseen places. Hidden Before Revealed Look at Moses, hidden in Midian before the burning bush. David, anointed but hiding from Saul and what about Jesus, living thirty quiet years before His ministry? God does His deepest work where no one is watching. The pullback seasons strengthen your faith, refine your motives, and build patience. They teach you to trust Him without applause. Out of sight doesn’t mean He is absent, He is only preparing you for your moment to step into purpose. The Return Looks Different When God sends you back into visibility, you’re not coming back to prove yourself , but you’re coming back ready, stronger, quieter and much more grounded in what you’ve learned while waiting. Less desperate for approval, and more committed to your calling. If you read to this point, I want you to know that your hidden season wasn’t wasted. It was a workshop for your life, character, faith, future and destiny. Trust the Hidden Work If you’re out of sight right now, rest. God hasn’t lost track of you. The silence isn’t emptiness, but sacred preparation and refinement. Trust Him in the quiet, learn to patiently grow in the hidden, and when the time comes to step forward, you’ll step fully ready, rooted, and aligned with the purpose He has been quietly writing in you all along. © Favour