Most of us don’t realize how fragile our sense of security really is, until something threatens it. A rejection letter. A failure we didn’t see coming. A moment when we realize we are not as in control as we thought. I remember talking with a student who had built his entire identity around getting into a particular university. For years, everything revolved around that goal. His classes, his extracurriculars, his sacrifices. It wasn’t just about education — it was about worth. When the rejection letter came, it didn’t feel like a missed opportunity. It felt like a verdict. For weeks, he questioned everything. Who am I, if not this? What was all of that for? What he experienced wasn’t unusual. It revealed something most of us live with every day: when our identity is rooted in fragile things, our sense of security becomes fragile too. It was around this time that I was reading Psalm 1 and Psalm 2. And what I found there completely reframed how I understood power, security, and what it means to live a truly stable life. The God We Expect — and the God We Don’t When most people think about God, especially in the Psalms, certain images come to mind. God is portrayed as a shepherd who gently leads his sheep. He is a refuge who protects us in times of danger. He is a creator who formed us with care and intention. These images are deeply comforting, and rightly so. They reveal God’s tenderness and his personal care for those who seek him. But Psalm 2 introduces a dimension of God’s character that is far less familiar. It opens with a scene of global rebellion. The nations rage. The rulers gather together. The most powerful people in the world align themselves in opposition to God. They believe they possess real authority. They believe they are in control. And then comes one of the most startling responses in all of Scripture: “He who sits in the heavens laughs.” God laughs. Not nervously. Not anxiously. Not defensively. He laughs because their rebellion, for all its apparent strength, is ultimately powerless. Power feels intimidating until you see it from heaven’s perspective. What appears overwhelming from our vantage point is insignificant from his. This is the laughter of absolute sovereignty, the laughter of someone who knows that no force in existence can overturn his purposes. The Fragile Systems We Trust We live in a world built on systems of achievement and approval. From an early age, we learn to measure ourselves by performance. Grades determine opportunity. Success determines respect. Achievement determines worth. We are taught, implicitly and explicitly, that our security depends on how well we navigate these systems. But these systems are fragile. They can reward you one moment and abandon you the next. They can elevate you temporarily, but they cannot secure you permanently. What we think controls our future often cannot even control itself. Psalm 2 exposes this illusion. It reminds us that even the most powerful human structures are temporary. They cannot outlast God. They cannot overrule him. They cannot ultimately threaten those whose lives are anchored in him. This realization dismantles the fear that so often drives our lives. Because if human power is not ultimate, then human approval is not ultimate either. And if human approval is not ultimate, then losing it is not ultimate loss. Why the Early Christians Were Unshakable This wasn’t just theoretical for the early Christians. It became the foundation of their courage. In the book of Acts, two of Jesus’ followers, Peter and John, were arrested and brought before powerful authorities. They were commanded to stop speaking publicly about Jesus. These were not empty threats. The authorities had real power to punish, imprison, and silence them. But after their release, the believers gathered together and prayed. And in their prayer, they quoted Psalm 2. They recognized that the rulers of their time had set themselves against God. And yet, in a profound twist, their opposition had actually fulfilled God’s plan. The crucifixion of Jesus, the greatest display of human power against God, became the very means through which salvation was accomplished. What looked like defeat was actually victory. This changed everything. They did not pray for safety. They prayed for boldness. They understood something that most of us forget: the most secure life is not the one protected from hardship, but the one rooted beyond it. Two Ways to Live: Rooted or Rootless Psalm 1 describes this contrast using a powerful image. It presents two fundamentally different ways of living. The first is the life of a person who is rooted. This person is described as a tree planted by streams of water. Because it is planted, it has a constant source of nourishment. It remains stable through changing seasons. It does not collapse when circumstances become difficult. Its strength comes not from its own effort, but from where it is rooted. The second is the life of a person who is rootless. This person is compared to chaff, the dry husk separated from grain. Chaff has no weight. No stability. It is carried wherever the wind takes it. This is what happens when our identity is rooted in temporary things. When our identity is rooted in achievement, failure devastates us. When our identity is rooted in approval, rejection defines us. When our identity is rooted in success, setbacks unravel us. Freedom without foundation leads to instability. But rootedness leads to flourishing. The King Who Chose Mercy Psalm 2 warns that God’s chosen King will ultimately rule with absolute authority. He has the power to establish justice and to judge rebellion. But the New Testament reveals something unexpected about this King. Instead of immediately exercising judgment, Jesus entered into human history and allowed himself to be rejected, mocked, and crucified. He absorbed the consequences of human rebellion rather than destroying those who rebelled. The God who laughs at human rebellion is also the God who loves rebels enough to rescue them. His authority is absolute. But his mercy is equally profound. This means the invitation of Psalm 2 is not merely a warning. It is an offer of refuge. Those who turn to him find not destruction, but security. The Secret of a Planted Life Psalm 1 tells us that this rooted life begins with where we plant our minds. What we return to daily shapes how we see ourselves and the world around us. In a world filled with constant comparison, distraction, and instability, it is easy to become spiritually rootless. Our identity becomes dependent on circumstances that are constantly changing. But there is another way to live. It is the life of someone who is planted. Someone whose identity is anchored in something unchanging. Someone who is not defined by success or failure, approval or rejection. This kind of life produces a deep and lasting security. Not because circumstances are easy, but because the foundation beneath them cannot be shaken. The Security Nothing Can Take Away The world constantly invites us to build our lives on fragile foundations, achievement, status, approval, control. But these things cannot bear the weight of our identity. They were never meant to. Psalm 1 and 2 offer a radically different invitation. They invite us to build our lives on the God who cannot be threatened. The God who cannot be overruled. The God who laughs, not because he is distant, but because he is sovereign. When your life is rooted in fragile things, you live in constant fear of losing them. But when your life is rooted in the God who reigns over all things, you no longer have to live in fear of the things that terrify everyone else. Because the God who laughs is also the God who invites you to stand secure with him. And that is the most stable life anyone can live. © David Jun

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.” Isaiah 5:20 This has stayed with me. All I could think about was the moment I knew I was pregnant, how everything in me shifted in an instant. I can’t describe what it felt like to know a new life was growing inside of me. And yet, my daughter would have been considered less than a puppy in this woman's eyes. (dog, cat & gerbil owner here, so don’t think I don’t love or value my furbabes.) When people can treat babies as disposable things while puppies spark sympathy, that exposes the moral blindness that has drenched our world. What makes this terrifying isn’t that the morality is gone. It’s how completely it’s been flipped, tilted, and thrown into a tumbler. The empathy is still there. The care is still there. Love and kindness still exist. But worth has been misplaced, and humanity has been dehumanized. That kind of chosen blindness doesn’t happen by accident or overnight. It is subtle, deceptive, and purely demonic. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” Jeremiah 1:5 “Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14 “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. Luke 1:41 “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalms 139:13–16 In my Blot | Machah | Exaleiphó article, I talk about how God doesn’t write our names in the Book of Life after we come to Him. Rather, our names are already there, from the moment He knitted us together, because we are beloved, valued, worthy, ordained, anointed, and wanted. Life, being “allowed” to live, should never have gotten to the point of being a dinner table discussion or placed on a ballot. Is your moral compass tilted by this world, or shaped by God? And when the two stand in opposition, which one do you follow? © Jane Isely

If it walks like power and talks like control, it ain’t Jesus. “Empires always want to use religion to legitimize their power. Jesus never plays along. He’s not the chaplain of empire — he’s the challenger of it.” Brian Zahnd In a comment I read by Jane Isley, I’d like to expand a bit upon her thoughts: Way back when, kings ruled with crosses in one hand and a sword in the other. They didn’t lead like Jesus. They ruled like Caesar. And that’s what it feels like again. They didn’t lead like Jesus. They ruled like Caesar. They slapped religion on their thrones, not because they loved God, but because it kept the people in line. Faith became their favorite leash. And sadly, America is still repeating it. As a marketing brand and campaign slogan Look around. You’ll see Christianity being marketed like a brand. Used like a campaign slogan. Wielded like a badge of purity while the lives behind it? They reek of corruption, greed, and power-hunger. Some politician slaps a Bible on the table or holds it upside down in a photo op and then pushes policies that stomp on the faces of the poor, the immigrant, and the marginalized. Jesus talked about setting captives free. These folks seem more interested in locking people up. Leading by example? And let’s be real. They’re not even leading by example. They’re not living the Sermon on the Mount while at the same time enforcing posting the Ten Commandments on classroom walls. They’re not turning the other cheek. They’re not loving their enemies. They’re not serving the least of these. They’re just repeating the name of Jesus like it’s a magic password. And hoping you won’t notice what’s actually going on. Here’s the thing that bothers me most. It’s not just the misuse of faith. It’s what gets lost in the shuffle. The actual stories. The context. The grace. The struggle. The real people. The sweat and tears that fill the pages of the Bible. All brushed under the rug. Gone. Because they don’t serve the PR narrative. Because they might make you think. Might make you ask questions. Might wake something up in you that doesn’t fall in line. Religion as control When you use religion to control people, you have to kill curiosity. You have to flatten the text. You have to simplify Jesus into a bumper sticker. A campaign poster. A corporate logo. But Jesus wasn’t controllable. He didn’t play nice with power. He didn’t kiss up to the religious elite. What did He do? He flipped tables and spoke in riddles. He told the truth with his whole body. Even when it got him killed. I keep thinking… what would Jesus do if he walked into one of these rallies where faith and politics are tangled up like a bad extension cord? Would he sit quietly and smile? Or would he make another whip? I don’t know. But I do know this: Jesus never needed a PR team. He wasn’t worried about appearances. He never built a platform. He poured himself out. He loved people with nothing to offer him in return. It’s not just about “getting back to God.” It’s about getting back to the way of God. Dirt under the fingernails living it Back to living it. Not selling it. Back to serving. Not spinning. Back to wrestling with Scripture, instead of cherry-picking it to win an argument or justify some crooked agenda. I feel it in my gut. An ache. This frustration. A burning disappointment when you hear Jesus’ name tossed around by people who don’t seem to care at all about what he actually said? When Christianity becomes a performance, a press release, or a way to win elections and secure donors , then it’s no longer Christianity. It’s marketing. It’s ugly empire. It’s power dressed in a Sunday goin’ to church suit. And maybe that’s why some folks walk away. In fact, I’m sure of it. They’re not rejecting Jesus. Maybe they’re just exhausted by the fake versions of him. I know I am. That was the total reason I started down a path of (dare I say) deconstruction. I didn’t begin my unique journey because I wanted to ‘sin it up’ or because this path was ‘sexy’ as we’re sometimes accused. I didn’t leave Christ. I found Him in ways more authentic than I could imagine. So what do we do now? We stop chasing image and start seeking truth. We stop playing church and start being the church. We open the Bible, not to find ammo, but to find healing. To remember the stories. The context. The heartbeat behind the commands. We stop letting people at the top define our faith. They don’t get to. They never did. We follow Jesus without wearing a costume or hide behind a mask. We can love like him without shouting his name on a megaphone. As Jane said, we don’t need to turn Christianity into a PR stunt. We just need to live it. Quietly. Boldly. Humbly. In our families and coworkers. On our streets. With our friends and neighbors. And yes, as hard as it may be, even with our enemies. Because way back when, Jesus didn’t come to endorse a system. He came to set us free from one. And I think many have forgotten that. © 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.

The Question That Finally Made the Gospel Click There is a reason it is not called “Good History.” History is a record of the past, but news is a report on the present. Real news is fresh. It is information so urgent that it changes your circumstances the moment you hear it. If the Gospel feels like an old story, you have missed the “news” of it. It is not meant to be a memory of what happened back then. Instead, it is a live announcement of what is happening today. That makes it just as newsworthy this morning as it was two thousand years ago. The Question Before we dive in, we must acknowledge that only God can give us true understanding. I remember watching a video where a specific question was asked to reveal what people truly believe about salvation: “If you believe Jesus died for your sins today, but then you sin three more times and suddenly die, where would you go?” For a long time, my answer would have been “Hell.” I believed that if I hadn’t at least confessed or said sorry for those specific sins, I was no longer covered. I was treating repentance like a checklist and confession like a safety net. But here is the problem: If my salvation depends on me saying “sorry” for every single mistake before my heart stops beating, then I am not actually trusting in Jesus. I am trusting in my own memory and my own ability to stay “confessed up.” After all, if I save myself, I don’t need a Savior. For all these years, I thought I understood the work of the cross, but I now realize I had no idea what God truly saved me from. When Jesus died on that cross 2,000 years ago, He did not just die for my past sins. He paid for them all. That is why He said, “It is finished,” because the debt has been fully paid. Just as it says in Colossians 2:14: “He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross.” Why it is “News” If the Gospel is truly News, it means the verdict has already been handed down. On the cross, Jesus didn’t just pay for the sins you have already confessed. He paid for every sin you would ever commit. We often confuse the process of repentance with the payment for sin. The Process: Repentance is a lifelong journey of turning away from sin and toward God. It takes time to bear fruit. Saying “sorry” or confessing is only the beginning of that heart change. The Payment: Jesus’ death is the only thing that pays the debt. Our biggest fight is not trying to be a better person. Deep down, most of us already desire to be better than we are. Our biggest fight is to actually believe the Gospel. This is why Isaiah 53, in describing God’s plan to save us, begins with the question: “Who has believed our report?” The Sin That Blinds The devil’s primary goal is to make you miss your Savior. He does this by tempting you toward sin, but the most dangerous sin is often the one we don’t notice: pride. This is why 2 Corinthians 4:4 warns that: “The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” This blindness often looks like “goodness.” The devil does not mind your religious duties as long as you trust in them rather than in Christ. We see this clearly in Luke 18:9–14, where Jesus speaks to “those who trusted in their own righteousness”. He tells the story of a Pharisee and a tax collector who went to the temple to pray. The Pharisee stood and thanked God that he was not like other men, boasting that he fasted and paid tithes. He had plenty of good deeds, but his sin was trusting in those deeds. In contrast, the tax collector stood at a distance, unable to even look up to heaven, and simply cried out, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner!” Jesus tells us that it was the tax collector, not the religious man, who went home justified. The Pharisee was doing “good things,” but he was using them as a shield against his need for a Savior. The Gospel is only News to those who realize they cannot save themselves. © 2026 Mikiyas Astatke Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Knowing God. If this question about grace and assurance resonated with you, this one goes deeper: 👉 A Christian Response to New Age Spirituality Whether it is confessing every sin before death or chasing one more spiritual practice, the trap is the same, believing fulfillment depends on something we do. This article traces that same restless search all the way back to a bonfire in Ephesus. Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.

When people hear my story, they often jump to conclusions, they say: “Rofiat must have changed her faith for a man or peer-pressure,” The truth is far more personal and profound. My name is Rofiat (meaning “kind and gentle”) and I was raised in the Islamic tradition. Islam wasn’t just a religion in our household; it was the foundation of our daily life, shaping my understanding of God and my place in the world. As I matured into adulthood, I began seeking a deeper understanding of my faith. This wasn’t a casual exploration, I invested in Islamic texts, purchasing books like the Tira to study independently. I even sought guidance from my course mate Yusuf, asking him to help me understand the nuances of Islamic practice and theology. When life took me to Abeokuta, I continued my spiritual practices, maintaining my daily prayers and observances as best I could. Yet despite these sincere efforts, something felt incomplete, a disconnection between the rituals I performed and the divine relationship I sought. The turning point came unexpectedly on what seemed like an ordinary day. Feeling restless at home, I found myself considering a visit to a nearby church, not out of rebellion, but curiosity. After a brief search, I discovered Winner’s Chapel Goshen. Standing at its gates, I approached the security guard to inquire about their service times. That simple conversation marked the beginning of a profound transformation in my spiritual journey. While I had occasionally attended church services with friends before, this was different. This time, I wasn’t merely accompanying others; I was searching for something authentic, a faith experience I could understand intellectually and feel emotionally. I longed to comprehend the words I was speaking to God and to know that He understood me in return. My decision to embrace Christianity stemmed from this desire for genuine connection, a relationship with God that transcended ritual and reached into the depths of understanding and personal experience. It wasn’t about rejecting my past but finding a path that resonated with my deepest spiritual longings. The transformation surprised many who knew me. If I could show you photographs from before, of myself wearing the hijab, observing Islamic traditions, the contrast would be striking. Yet the outward changes reflect an even more significant internal journey. Today, my faith continues to evolve and deepen. Each day brings new insights, challenges, and growth as I cultivate this connection that I sought for so long. My story isn’t about choosing one tradition over another, it’s about finding the authentic spiritual path that allows me to connect with God in a way that speaks to my heart and mind. This journey, with all its complexities and revelations, continues to unfold. And while this chapter of my testimony has come to a close, the story of my faith remains very much in progress. © Oluwafunke Folami

Prayer isn’t just words. It’s a reflection of your heart, your faith, and your relationship with God. How you approach prayer, both for yourself and for others, reveals where you stand spiritually and how deeply you trust Him. When someone asks you to pray, pause for a moment. Before you react, judge, or offer advice, remember this: they are seeking God. Your role isn’t to critique, debate, or analyze; your role is to lift, to intercede, and to stand with them in faith. Carry Each Other’s Burdens “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Gal 6:2 When we pray for others, we are shouldering a piece of their struggle, joining them in the invisible work of God’s kingdom. It doesn’t matter if you know all the details or understand the situation perfectly. What matters is your willingness to approach God with love and humility. The Power of Unity in Prayer Prayer is personal, but it’s also relational. Jesus said: “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Matt 18:20 Whether you’re praying alone or alongside someone else, your focus should be on God. Let your words be guided by compassion, not judgment. Let your thoughts reflect care, not assumptions. A prayer of empathy and faith can speak volumes more than any advice or opinion ever could. Pray Boldly and Honestly And remember, the same principle applies to your own prayers. Don’t hold back because of fear, shame, or doubt. God is patient, compassionate, and attentive. He hears your cries, your gratitude, your confessions, and your questions. “The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” Ps 145:18 Every prayer you offer, whether for yourself or others, is a step closer to God. Every moment spent in intercession, gratitude, or quiet communion builds trust, strengthens faith, and spreads love. Connection, Love, Reflection So the next time someone asks for prayer, or the next time you kneel alone, approach it with your full heart. Pray with intention and pray with love. And above all, pray knowing that God is listening, moving, and answering even in ways you might never see. Prayer is more than ritual. It’s a connection. It’s love. It’s trust. And it’s the purest way we reflect God’s heart to the world © Jane Isley

This has become one of the most damaging habits in modern Christianity: People curated, dissected, politicized, and trademarked Scripture. People highlight what comforts, quote what supports, and ignore what confronts. Honestly, it’s just preference dressed up in spiritual language that fits the bill at the moment. Cherry-picking isn’t a new trend by any means; history verifies this over and over. But the church has gotten quite bold about it. Verses are yanked out of context, slapped on mugs, elevated into doctrines, and built into entire belief systems. And anything that challenges those fragments of Christianity gets dismissed as outdated, misunderstood, or “not for today.” God’s word isn’t rejected outright; it’s just outright filtered. As though that makes it ok somehow, deemed “permissible” because it gets reinterpreted to “fit the times.” God is timeless; if it were meant ONLY for that time in history, we’d have more crucifixions. By filtering God, people get to avoid submitting to Him. Chapters and verses were added to Scripture to help us study, not to permit us to dissect God into the parts we like and parts we tolerate. The Bible was written as a unified message, yet the modern church treats it like a buffet. One of the clearest symptoms is how easily we divide God Himself. Passages get labeled as “loving” and others as “problematic,” as if God’s character shifts with the culture. But this isn’t really about testaments or theology. It’s about control. People wanting control. A whole God requires repentance. A customized god requires nothing from people. So Scripture gets shrunk to fit lifestyles instead of letting it reshape us. Disobedience got spiritualized, sin got excused, and faithfulness was redefined. And when God’s word pushes back, people accuse it of being harsh rather than honest. Here’s the uncomfortable truth: when we cherry-pick Scripture, we teach the world they can do the same. We handed unbelievers permission to reshape God however they see fit, because that’s exactly what we’re doing. The Bible doesn’t need to be softened, and God doesn’t need to be updated. What needs to change is the modern church’s willingness to stop editing God and start following Him. © Jane Isley

A few of you know some details about what has been going on in my personal life since September of last year. What no one knows is how bad it’s been. This is not an all-about-me story, but I will share some personal details to give context. When Everything Went Wrong In September, I got an NJ feeding tube. If you are not familiar, it is a tube that goes through the nose, down the throat, and feeds nutrition into my small intestine. This was the part of me that the extended car warranty did not cover at birth. Then, on November 4, I had a permanent feeding tube surgically placed in my stomach. Nothing went as planned. When I say that, I do not mean one or two minor setbacks, or even three, four, five, six, or seven things. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong to a level so insane that even providers I am working with are talking about it, and things are still far from resolved. I have faced challenges in my life before. But this. This was different. This was a trauma. This was deep depression. This was severe and constant pain, betrayal, anger, hopelessness, and anxiety. To put my mind into perspective, I had to order my medical alert bracelet. I had DNR engraved on it. Where My Faith Was Tested But here’s the thing, even in my hurt and anger, God didn’t love me less. He waited patiently through my depression until I finally broke and confronted Him, told Him how angry I was, and admitted that I felt abandoned after finally receiving help after years of fighting the medical system, only to have the medical system fail so badly. I genuinely lost trust in God; He knew that, yet He didn’t leave me, because I still took it to Him, my Father. Now, there is a whole crap ton more that went on between God and me, and at some point in the future, I may share it, but I’m here to talk about a pattern I started to see with other Christians. It finally came full circle and hit me, Holy Ghost goose bumps and all. This wasn’t just spiritual warfare, although it was the worst I have ever gone through. This was something else. This was to see where I would go when the world pushed me to the edge. It was a preparation period. And I see now that I have not been the only one. So many people I know from all over the country and across the globe, both online and in person, have been going through, or have recently gone through, an exhausting trial. I sat there, and I counted. The total number left me jaw-dropped for a few minutes in my office. Not ten people, not twenty, not thirty, not even forty, but well past that.That is not a coincidence or an isolated occurrence, people. God is up to something. I’ve never witnessed what I am seeing now. Why This Feels Different I’ve never seen this level of personal and intense spiritual warfare attacking Christians, and in many cases, the severity of these attacks without God intervening sooner. He let this play out on all of us. We need to ask ourselves why? I’ve always found that satan really loves to go after people he can see drawing closer to God, people he can see God priming and paving a future for. Satan has been fighting on a magnitude I have never encountered before in my life, and that doesn’t happen for no reason. None of what I have learned from these other Christians since starting to come out of my own trial is a coincidence. I also didn’t learn the full scope of these other trials until I reached a personal turning point with God, and then I was suddenly overwhelmed by story after story. God, the world, and satan are always testing us. But this is different; I am also not the only one who has picked up that something is going on, either. I think there are a whole lot more people, since last fall, who have been tested to the brink to see what metal their armour was really made of that we do not know about. What Comes After the Testing This is for everyone reading this. There is a purpose to what we have been going through lately. I promise you that. Even when it felt isolating, even when it felt unbearable, none of it was wasted. Many of us walked through our trials alone, unaware that others were enduring similar. It was preparation. To those who kept choosing Him even when everything fell apart, hold on to your knickers, because something is coming. God allowed the season of testing to reveal what we are truly made of, not just to Him, but also for us to see it in ourselves. © 2026 Jane Isley Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Knowing God. Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.

In his book Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God, Tim Keller draws attention to a word in 1 John 1:9 that many readers overlook. The apostle writes: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”1 John 1:9 At first, this phrasing feels almost contradictory.God is just to forgive us? Forgiveness sounds like mercy or kindness. Justice sounds like punishment. A just judge does not excuse guilt. He condemns it. So how can God be just when He forgives sinners? A Debt Already Paid The answer lies at the center of the Christian faith, the cross. Scripture teaches that Jesus did not merely make forgiveness possible. He fully paid the debt our sin incurred by bearing its penalty in our place. Once a debt has been paid in full, justice no longer demands payment. In fact, it forbids it. To require repayment would not be righteous. It would be unjust. This means God does not forgive reluctantly, as though He must override His justice in order to show mercy. He forgives because justice has already been satisfied. He honors the sufficiency of His Son’s sacrifice. To deny forgiveness would be to deny what the cross accomplished. Our standing before God, then, is not fragile or uncertain. It is legally secure. The Myth of Emotional Currency Still, many of us live as though forgiveness must be purchased with feeling. We assume the currency God accepts is sorrow. We believe the depth of our guilt, the heaviness we feel, or the intensity of our tears somehow makes forgiveness more likely. So we linger in shame. We replay our failures. We wait until we feel forgiven. But John directs our confidence away from ourselves entirely. Forgiveness does not rest on the intensity of our emotions or the quality of our repentance. It rests on God’s character, on His faithfulness and His justice. Our hope does not come from looking inward at our own hearts. It comes from looking outward at His. Photo by Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash Why Confession Still Matters If our sins are already paid for, why confess them at all? We confess not to earn forgiveness, but to restore fellowship. Sin does not remove us from God’s family, but it does disrupt intimacy. In any healthy relationship, love does not eliminate the need for apology. It deepens it. You say “I’m sorry” not because you fear rejection, but because you value closeness. That is why we confess. Not approaching God covered in shame or fixated on our failures, but coming with confidence. As the writer of Hebrews says: “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”Hebrews 4:16 We come honestly because we already know how we will be received. We look to the cross and receive the mercy that was secured long before we asked for it. Resting in Who God Is Ultimately, our peace comes from relying on God’s character rather than our own. David understood this when he prayed: “Hear my prayer, O Lord; give ear to my pleas for mercy. In your faithfulness answer me, in your righteousness.”Psalm 143:1 David did not ask to be heard because of his own faithfulness, but because of God’s. Had he depended on his own record, he might never have prayed at all. Like him, we find freedom when we stop trying to prove ourselves worthy of forgiveness and start trusting the One who delights to give it. God is not good because we are repentant enough. He is good because He is God. And that is why, even on our worst days, we can still come to Him with confidence and rest. If you haven’t already, read the article “One Question Changed How I See the Gospel” to explore the Gospel more deeply. © Mikiyas Astatke

Whenever I heard the word ‘repent,’ I used to get uncomfortable. I suppose I had this notion that people would scream at me to repent, or else I would go to hell. I also used to think that God was an angry God before I got saved. That may be how you view repentance and the Lord as well. However, consider this: repentance is more than just saying ‘sorry.' As I’ve continued on my walk with Jesus, I’ve learned that repentance is necessary and actually relieving to the soul. Repentance isn’t berating yourself for what you’ve done. It’s realizing that you are a broken human being in need of God’s love and mercy. It’s having the strength to lay all of your sins and burdens down at God’s feet. You might have heard this statement before: “Come as you are, but don’t stay as you are.” That is precisely how our relationships are with Jesus. Jesus will never turn away from us and our sins, but as we grow with Him and repent, we must change. Repentance doesn’t mean simply saying “sorry God!” and moving on with your day. It means grieving over the sin you have been struggling with and being completely open to God about it. It means praying about it for however long you need. You must realize that the sin you have committed isn’t good for you, and more importantly, for God. Search for ‘repentance’ on Google, and the definition is literally sincere regret and remorse. You must truly regret your sin to repent. Sin isn’t a control mechanism for us; the things considered as sins are genuinely bad for us. They aren’t there for no reason, you know. I’ve struggled with this A LOT. There are times when I sin, and I try to ‘repent’, and then about an hour later, I’ll go back to the same old sin. God knows everything about us; He knows our innermost thoughts and feelings. We must pray to Him for pure hearts and pure intentions to repent. We cannot repeatedly abuse His grace. I read an excellent book called “Jesus Is…” by Judah Smith, in which he discusses how we need to take our relationship with Him seriously. Sinning is cheating on the Lord; it is devoting our time to Satan/worldly things rather than Heaven. The Lord has a jealous love for us. This isn’t meant to make us feel trapped; it’s meant to make us feel loved and protected. He knows that when we sin, we fall into lies, complete with meaninglessness. We must stay on the straight, narrow path with Jesus. That means we must seriously repent! So rather than just apologizing to God, we must change our ways and remember what He has done for us. Remembrance of Him keeps us from sinning. That way, when temptation arises, we will be reminded of God and how much better He is for us. Then, we will choose Him and His ways! As James 1 3–4 says, we must endure in faithfulness. If we have enough faith in Jesus, we can overcome temptation and sin. And if we don’t, we can pray to God for it (James 1 5–8). So, repentance isn’t necessary to make you feel worthless in God’s eyes. It actually makes you even more worthy in God’s eyes because you are showing humility and submission to Him. Next time we repent, brothers and sisters, let’s remember to move patiently through our apologies/regrets and truly change our ways. God bless you all. © Sienna Krieg