The questions we’re afraid to ask might be the ones that grow our faith the most. I used to think doubt was the enemy of faith. Like termites chewing through the beams of belief, leaving the whole thing ready to cave in. That’s what I was told anyway. But somewhere along the way, that neat little box I’d kept my faith in started to rattle. Prayers felt quiet. Scriptures didn’t land like they used to. And the answers I once clung to began to feel thin, like fabric worn down by too many washings. I didn’t walk away from faith, but I did start asking harder questions. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s when something deeper began to grow. Can Doubt Actually Lead Us to Deeper Truth? We treat doubt like it’s a slippery slope to atheism. But what if it’s just a natural part of the journey toward an honest, resilient faith? If I never questioned anything, was I really believing, or just parroting what I was handed? Real faith isn’t scared of questions. God certainly isn’t. In fact, some of the most faithful people in scripture, Job, David, even Jesus in Gethsemane, wrestled, doubted, and cried out in the dark. If God is real, then truth can withstand our questions. If not, then maybe it wasn’t truth to begin with. What If Certainty Is the Real Opposite of Faith? We’ve made an idol out of certainty. But Jesus never said, “Blessed are the ones who have all the answers.” He blessed the poor in spirit, the seekers, the ones hungry for righteousness. Faith, by definition, involves trust in the unseen. That doesn’t sound like airtight proof to me. Faith isn’t a brick wall, it’s more like a rope bridge. It sways. It creaks. Sometimes it feels terrifying. But it still holds. Why Do We Shame the Very Questions That Could Set Us Free? I’ve seen too many people pushed out of church for asking honest questions. Too many told they’re “backsliding” just because they’re trying to make sense of their spiritual pain. That’s not what Jesus did. He didn’t shame the doubters. He invited them closer. Thomas wasn’t cast out, he was welcomed with wounds wide open. The Thomas story tells me that Jesus doesn’t demand blind belief. He offers presence. He shows up in the middle of our uncertainty. You may ask, “Well, what about Jesus saying to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen, yet still believe.” (Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus first appeared to His disciples.) The thing is, I don’t believe Jesus was shaming Thomas and requiring blind faith if he were a true follower. Jesus isn’t shutting Thomas down; he’s widening the circle to include all of us who live in the shadow of mystery and still dare to believe anyway. What If Doubt Is Holy Ground? I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t trust the ones who claim they do. But I’ve come to believe that doubt, honest, aching, soul-searching doubt, isn’t the opposite of faith. It’s part of it. Maybe even the doorway into it. If you’re in that place, you’re not alone. And you’re not broken. You’re growing. You’re searching. And sometimes, that’s where the real encounter happens, not in the certainty, but in the sacred space of not being certain about everything you’re supposed to believe. So go ahead. Ask the hard questions. Wrestle in the dark. God isn’t offended. © 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.

Why Even Pretend to Be Christian? A strange thing has happened in modern Christian discourse. For decades, many believers have insisted that the Law of Moses is timeless and binding when it speaks about sexuality, especially when quoting Leviticus 18:22 or Leviticus 20:13 regarding homosexuality. “The Bible is clear,” we’re told. “God’s law does not change.” But when that same Law commands love for immigrants, when Leviticus 19:33–34 says, “You shall love the stranger as yourself,” suddenly the conversation changes. What was once treated as eternal moral clarity is now reduced to context, to ancient Israel’s civil code, to something embarrassingly “woke.” Recently, when John Piper quoted Leviticus about loving the sojourner, some Christians responded by calling him “liberal” or “woke.” A conservative Reformed pastor quoting Moses was labeled progressive. The question almost asks itself: when did the Law become too liberal? The Selective Obedience Problem The issue isn’t disagreement about immigration policy. Christians can reasonably debate border enforcement, asylum processes, and national sovereignty. The issue is theological consistency. If Leviticus is binding moral law when it condemns homosexuality, why is it suddenly negotiable when it commands protection and love for foreigners? Both commands sit in the same holiness code. Both are introduced with the same authority, “I am the LORD.” Both are part of Israel’s covenantal ethic. Yet many Christians treat one as eternally moral and the other as politically inconvenient. That isn’t biblical fidelity. It is cherry-picking. The Stranger in the Law The Hebrew word ger, meaning sojourner or foreigner, appears repeatedly in the Torah. Israel’s memory of being strangers in Egypt was meant to shape their national character. Exodus 22:21 commands, “You shall not wrong a sojourner or oppress him.” Deuteronomy 10:18–19 declares that God “loves the sojourner… Love the sojourner, therefore.” This was not sentimental humanitarianism. It was covenant obedience rooted in redemptive memory. To mistreat the stranger was to forget Egypt, to forget deliverance, and to forget who they once were. When Christians dismiss those commands as naïve or politically dangerous, they are not arguing with cable news pundits. They are arguing with Moses. This Isn’t Self-Preservation Some may accuse me of bias here. After all, I am a foreigner living in the United States. But this isn’t self-preservation. If it were, I would get rid of my moral convictions and adapt myself to whatever rhetoric was most socially rewarded. I would happily nod my head every time someone applauded a sexually immoral politician for steering this nation back to Christ. I would stay quiet when Scripture is used selectively, as long as the selective reading benefited me. That would be easier. But I have had my own prejudices. I have harbored resentment toward Afghans in my own country. I know how tribal instincts form and how quickly they harden, and I’ve been on the receiving end of that resentment, being a follower of Christ in Pakistan. I am no stranger to hostility. If my own people can reject me for my faith, I surely do not expect love from Americans. That is precisely why this matters. This is not about demanding comfort or protection. It is about demanding consistency. If we claim allegiance to Christ, then our moral convictions cannot expand or contract depending on who holds power or which group makes us uneasy. The standard must remain the same, even when it challenges us personally, because faithfulness that only applies when it costs nothing is not faithfulness at all. Is Jesus woke? The trajectory does not weaken in the New Testament; it intensifies. In Matthew 25, Jesus identifies himself with the stranger, saying, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” In Luke 10, the moral hero is not the religious insider but the Samaritan, the ethnic and theological outsider. Jesus does not reduce neighbor-love; he radicalizes it. The irony becomes sharper when Christians who fiercely defend “biblical morality” in one domain recoil when biblical morality confronts tribal instincts in another. Law, Power, and Political Identity For many believers, the Law has become a cultural weapon rather than a covenant mirror. When Leviticus reinforces pre-existing political convictions, it is treated as divine clarity. When it challenges nationalistic impulses, it is dismissed as outdated. Scripture is not shaping politics; politics is filtering Scripture. This dynamic is not new. Throughout history, Christians have selectively emphasized texts that support social hierarchies while sidelining those that disrupt them. The same Bible that was once used to defend slavery also contained the seeds of its abolition. The question has never been whether the text speaks, but which parts we are willing to hear. What Are We Actually Defending? If you defend Leviticus on sexuality grounds but ridicule Leviticus on immigrant grounds, what exactly are you defending? It cannot be “the authority of Scripture,” because that authority appears conditional. It cannot be “unchanging moral law,” because the consistency disappears when the law cuts across political comfort. What is being defended is not Moses but identity, tribe, and power. When tribal identity becomes primary, the name “Christian” becomes branding rather than discipleship. The Cost of Honest Faith There are serious debates to be had about how modern nation-states apply ancient commands. Loving the stranger does not eliminate the role of law, order, or prudence, and Christians can disagree on policy without abandoning conviction. What we cannot do, at least not honestly, is call one part of Leviticus eternal and another part “woke” simply because it unsettles us. Scripture does not erase the role of the state. What it does require is moral consistency. If we invoke the Law as binding authority, we must apply it with integrity rather than convenience. If loving the stranger feels politically uncomfortable, that discomfort should lead us back to the text, not away from it. © Joel Sarfraz References: Leviticus 18; 19:15; 19:33–36; 20. Leviticus 19:34.Isaiah 58:3–7. Amos 5:21–24.Micah 6:8. Matthew 23:23. James 2:10. Galatians 3:28. The Institutes of the Christian Religion, by John Calvin, Book II, on the moral law and its enduring authority. Summa Theologica, by Thomas Aquinas, I–II, Q. 99–108, on the moral, ceremonial, and judicial precepts of the Old Law.

There was a time when being Christian meant you might be fed to lions. Now you can buy Jesus merch at Target. Somewhere between the cross and the conference stage, we lost the plot. Christianity didn’t launch from palaces or polished pulpits. It started out in the dust, at the edges, whispered in alleyways, and shouted from hillsides. A Strange Little Crew A strange little crew gathered around a carpenter, no crown, no title, just calloused hands and truth in His words. His followers? Not exactly society’s finest. Fishermen who smelled like the sea. Women silenced by culture. A tax man nobody trusted. A stew of the overlooked and unwanted. And this carpenter from Nazareth? He spoke in riddles that rattled the rich and comforted the poor. “The last will be first,” he said with a glint in his eye, flipping more than just expectations. He flipped tables, literally, sending coins clattering and priests scowling. He called peacemakers blessed, but never promised peace would be easy. His kingdom wasn’t built with bricks or swords, it came in stories, in scars, in a love that broke rules and raised eyebrows. This wasn’t a religion polished for prime time. It was a revolution dressed in sandals. It wasn’t built for power. It was a protest against it. So, how did we get from there to here? From house churches to $60 million sanctuaries. From martyrs in the arena to pastors with private jets. From “take up your cross” to “God wants you to be rich.” When Faith Was Not a Brand Early Christians had no buildings, no budgets, and no political clout. What they had was a radical sense of community and a stubborn belief that love was more powerful than fear. Rome saw them as a threat because they refused to bow to Caesar. That refusal got them killed. But in the 4th century, everything changed. Constantine converted. Christianity went from persecuted to protected, then to preferred. Eventually, it became the official religion of the empire. That’s where the trouble started. What had been a grassroots movement of outcasts became a religion of kings and conquerors. The cross, once a symbol of execution and resistance, was hoisted as a battle flag. Instead of challenging the empire, Christianity became part of it. As author Diana Butler Bass puts it: “Christianity ceased to be a community and became a hierarchy.” Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash Trading the Cross for Comfort and Control Power is seductive. Once the church had a taste of safety and influence, it started protecting those things at all costs. Doctrine hardened. Dissent got punished. Crusades were launched. Colonies were claimed. People were burned at the stake in the name of the Prince of Peace. We started baptizing empire instead of challenging it. And somewhere in all of that, the revolutionary heart of Jesus’ message got buried beneath dogma and gold. The Gospel stopped being about liberation. It became about control. And yet, Scripture never changed. Jesus still said, “My kingdom is not of this world.” He still told the rich man to sell everything. He still warned that you can’t serve both God and money. He still stood with the outsider, the sinner, the oppressed. But we made him safe. Marketable. Vote-able. We made him white, straight, American, and always on our side. Voices Refusing to Stay Silent Progressive Christian leaders have been sounding the alarm. Rachel Held Evans wrote, “When the gospel has become bad news to the poor, to the oppressed, to the brokenhearted, we have replaced Jesus’ words with our own.” Richard Rohr says, “The price for real transformation is always some form of suffering. But churches often protect people from that.” And Rev. Jacqui Lewis reminds us: “If your gospel isn’t good news for everyone, then it’s not the gospel of Jesus.” These voices aren’t trying to destroy Christianity. They’re trying to remember what it was. They’re digging through the rubble of empire to find the radical, liberating Jesus underneath. Middle Age, Middle Ground, and a Crisis of Faith Middle age is a funny time. You start to see behind the curtain. You start asking harder questions. Maybe the faith you grew up with doesn’t make sense anymore. Maybe you watched it cause harm. Maybe you’re wondering if there’s still something worth holding onto. There is. But it might not look like what you were handed. Real Christianity, the kind that makes the powerful nervous and the hurting feel seen, is still alive. It’s just not always on TV. You might find it in a community garden, in a recovery meeting, in a group of misfits gathering in someone’s living room. You might find it in the margins, where it started. Jesus didn’t come to build a brand. He came to set captives free. To call out hypocrisy. To tear down walls. To remind us that the kingdom of God doesn’t look like a throne — it looks like a table. Reclaiming What We Lost Without Burning It All Down We don’t have to burn it all down. But we do have to stop pretending the system we built is the same as the faith we inherited. We can let go of the version of Christianity that cozies up to power, and reach for the one that walks with the broken. We can choose humility over certainty, love over control, and people over policy. In the words of the prophet Amos, which still echo today: “I hate, I despise your religious festivals; your assemblies are a stench to me… But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:21,24) This is not about nostalgia. It’s about rediscovery. Not of a church that once was, but of a Savior who still is. And maybe that’s the invitation: not to give up on faith, but to follow it back to where it began. With the outcasts. With the misfits. With a carpenter who said there was another way. © 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.

free bible images- rev. henry martin What do you think of when you hear, “come as you are?” For me, it’s a mix of the Nirvana song and spiritual hippies. I used to love saying “come as you are” before I was a Christian. It felt warm, open-minded, and welcoming. This was back when I was a New Ager who read tarot cards and believed that everything and everyone was God. However, when I surrendered to Christ, I knew deep down that I would go through a difficult shedding process of these beliefs. I held onto many stubborn, even selfish, beliefs that were hurting both me and others. I thought my way was the highway, and that anyone who disagreed with me was dead wrong. I thought I was the most moral person on the planet, and I dreamed of being someone people looked up to. To put it simply, I was ignorant. An example of this is that I once believed Satan was not real. I also thought sin was not real either. I genuinely thought the devil and sin were made up to scare people into following Christianity. Although after I experienced intense suicidal thoughts the night I came to Christ, I just couldn’t follow through with that anymore. I mean, the world has so many deaths, attacks, and pain… how can you not believe that Satan is real? He is a major reason why our world is broken and why we need Jesus. When I came to Jesus, I had a confusing time coming to terms with the fact that Satan is, in fact, real and very much working against humanity. I was basically deciding to follow beliefs that directly opposed my old ones. But when I accepted it, the weight I was carrying felt so much lighter. It felt like I could finally admit I was broken and needed Jesus to help me. This isn’t the only stubborn belief I held onto… I had many others that the world shares as well. A few months after surrendering to Jesus, I started feeling really convicted about fully supporting any/all political groups and their agendas. For my first draft for this article, I had so much to say about this particular conviction that I’m going to make a separate article about it! So, stay tuned… It’s going to be called “Stop Idolizing Your Political Party.” Anyways, back to the main idea, if you are going to follow Jesus, it is imperative that change comes along with it. This change will not occur the second you come to Jesus; it will take time. Jesus literally calls us to deny ourselves, take up our crosses DAILY, and follow Him (Luke 9:23). We cannot stay set in our stubborn ways… if we want to follow Jesus, we have to follow Him the whole way. We cannot be lukewarm Christians; we cannot pick and choose Bible verses to follow. We must follow Him fully in His way every single day. We are called to shed off beliefs that are holding us back from Him. We are called to leave behind what has dragged us down beforehand. As Jesus said, “Anyone who is not for me is really against me; anyone who does not help me gather is really scattering” (Matthew 12:30). I know this is pretty intense, but that is what it means to follow Jesus. Yes, it is comforting to be in His light, but we also have to accept that shedding old beliefs and embracing new ones may be uncomfortable. Nobody really talks about this, but sometimes it is HARD to let go of beliefs and opinions you’ve held so dearly for your whole life. It is hard to live for Christ in a world that strives to live for individual happiness. Yes, people are not always going to agree with us for following Christ, and many will not take our beliefs lightly, but we’ve got Jesus to lean on. So what’s the main idea? Please do come as you are to Him. It doesn’t matter what you’ve been through. Maybe you have an addiction, or have hurt someone on a deep level, or you don’t think you’re ‘Christian’ material. That will never stop Jesus from loving you and saving you. He can do what is seemingly impossible to you. But you also must accept that you have to change, for the better. Again, this does not happen within minutes. Pray to the Lord, ask Him to help you surrender and guide you in His everlasting way. Ask Him to convict you of those beliefs or behaviors that are keeping you from Him. If you are serious about Jesus, He will change you in the best way possible. He changed me, and I used to mock him heavily. So yes, come as you are, but don’t stay as you are. © Sienna Krieg

My absentee ballot arrived, and I’ve been reading, watching interviews, and praying for God’s guidance on how He wants me to vote. In Wisconsin, voters are choosing between Judges Maria Lazar and Chris Taylor for the Supreme Court. While the race is officially nonpartisan, Lazar is generally conservative-leaning, backed by Republicans, and Taylor is liberal-leaning, supported by Democrats, with prior leadership at Planned Parenthood of Wisconsin. This seat could potentially influence abortion laws, and for me, that matters deeply. Elections should be forcing us to weigh these issues. Many Christians hear the same advice: vote for the “lesser of two evils.” But I’ve been convicted to go deeper and ask -what does that mean for a Christian to approach voting morally and faithfully? When abortion enters any conversation, even if it is not the central focus of a campaign, the question becomes more than political. It becomes a matter of conscience, faith, and obedience to God. The Scope of Abortion in Wisconsin In Wisconsin, abortion is currently legal up to 20 weeks gestation under existing state law, with exceptions for the life or health of the mother. Judge Maria Lazar has said she does not intend to legislate from the bench but will uphold the law as it exists. Although she personally would not have chosen abortion, she has described a potential six-week fetal heartbeat law as a “middle ground,” noting that it reflects what Wisconsinites might support rather than a personal or judicial directive. But here’s the issue: no matter how “pretty” it’s dressed up, compromise or “middle ground” of any kind still kills innocent life. Whether at six weeks, 20 weeks, or any other arbitrary line, the result is the destruction of a child who, in God’s image, bears intrinsic worth and dignity. Scripture does not say, “Thou shalt not murder—except before six weeks.” It says “You shall not murder.” Exodus 20:13 Babies are among the most vulnerable, unable to speak or defend themselves. Paul prayed on behalf of those who had no voice: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.” Proverbs 31:8 Resolving the debate around abortion by supporting a lesser window still treats innocent life as a compromise rather than an absolute moral good. No fetus is “less human” at any stage of development, and nothing in Scripture suggests a sliding scale of moral worth based on gestational age. Your Role and Responsibility You can point to Lazar’s comments on believing Wisconsinites might support a fetal heartbeat law as a positive step forward in protecting babies as a reason to support her. Some may see Lazar’s comments about a fetal heartbeat law as a positive step forward in protecting babies. But here is the heart of the issue: upholding any law that permits abortion still affirms a system where innocent lives are taken. A conservative leaning does not automatically make a candidate the “lesser evil." We cannot claim to uphold the sanctity of life while honestly considering this talking point as a good thing, or a great “compromise,” when children are still being openly killed. It is permissive of murder, and Christians must reject evil in all forms, not merely in its most extreme expressions. Christian Discernment Totally radically and critical thinking thought here. But what if we didn't listen to the politics and instead surrendered our vote into God's hands? Will He have me vote for Taylor, or Lazar, or not at all? Not a clue yet, but it's out of my hands and in His. “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind… that you may discern what is the good, pleasing and perfect will of God.” Romans 12:2 Discernment does not mean choosing the least offensive immoral option. It means praying, standing with God and firmly for what is right, even when the political system presents only flawed choices. Christians are rightly called to participate in civic life, voting, advocating for justice, supporting the vulnerable, yet our allegiance must always be to Christ first. Obedience to Scripture sometimes means refusing to settle for moral compromise, even when that choice is difficult for us to understand or an unpopular decision. Many Christians treat their vote as if simply casting a ballot guarantees they have made the “right” choice. But the more important question is: did you bring that choice to God first? If not, your vote holds no weight in His eyes. True Christian discernment means surrendering your vote to God before all else. Doing so demonstrates a heart fully trusting Him and a willingness to align our civic actions with His will, rather than following party lines, church pressure, or popular opinion. Closing Challenge to Believers Christ calls His followers to a higher standard, not a political party. Israel in the Old Testament was called to separate themselves from practices that harmed the innocent; likewise, Christians today must not shrink from advocating for the most vulnerable among us. Whether at six weeks, 20 weeks, or any point in development, abortion is still the taking of innocent life. Christians are commanded to stand for life without compromise. To read and settle for any middle ground as "better then it was before" that still excuses, permits and doesn't stop the innocent bloodshed that society calls "health care" now. It's not health care, it's a demonically elected cosmetic procedure. © Jane Isley

pexels- Tara Winstead Before I became a Christian, I had no idea what idolatry was. Funny enough, I actually confused it with adultery. When my mom gave me her Bible, and I began reading it, I started noticing how often the word idolatry would pop up. At the time, I was also watching many Christian YouTube videos, and I noticed how creators would bring it up as well. Obviously, something about it was important. Originally, I thought I didn’t struggle with it. I wasn’t hanging onto a celebrity’s every word or following other Gods. However, as I continued to learn about it, I realized I had been idolizing people. It wasn’t in the normal sense where I was obsessed with a celebrity or a character; rather, it was the obsession with how other people thought of me. I continuously worried, and still worry about how other people perceived me. Was I nice enough? Pretty enough? Outgoing enough? Confident enough? The list goes on. I am a huge people pleaser, and that in itself is a form of idolatry. I basically made it a God. I would do a lot to get people to like me, and I get extremely sensitive when I find out that someone has a poor opinion of me. Rather than focusing on Jesus, I get swept up in how others will praise or belittle me. But the thing is, people are fickle. People’s opinions shift depending on their mood, how much food they eat, what stage of life they’re in, etc. I cannot base my self-worth on how the human brain works. I must see myself through the eyes of Jesus. Jesus never changes. Jesus loves. Jesus reveals light in the darkest pits. It’s harder to follow Jesus than it looks. We are surrounded by a diverse number of people in our everyday lives. Sometimes we forget about Jesus and get caught in our day-to-day relations. This happens to the best of us. While people’s opinions can really make a difference in our lives, it’s important not to idolize them or rank them above our God. The Lord is all-powerful, and that is why we should look to Him. People change their minds about their love for others, but He never does. Nobody sacrificed themselves quite like Jesus. He literally died for us. I doubt you can say that about most other people. That is why “I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave his life for me” (Galatians 2:20). Additionally, you can make items an idol in your life. Food, work, clothing, and money are prime examples. Don’t get me wrong, I am a foodie and fashion person at heart, but there is a difference between enjoying God’s blessings and obsessing over them. Your phone is also an example of what could be an idol. I often reach for my phone in times of trouble because it helps me get my mind off stress. But I know that it ends up creating more anxiety due to my untouched problems sitting in the back of my head. Yes, scrolling on the phone can feel relaxing in some ways, but once you get off it, you have to eventually deal with your problems. I am actively struggling with this kind of idolatry and often push Jesus to the back of my mind while I take out my phone. I haven’t done much about it, but writing this is showing me how much of a problem it actually is. As I mentioned in a previous article, I have not been taking Jesus seriously in the past couple of months. I have been struggling with a lot of spiritual warfare, and idolatry is a huge part of it. I pray that each and every one of us, including myself, has the strength blessed by God to overcome our idols. That we can have the spiritual sense to realize what we idolize is wrong, and that our Lord and Savior is much more fulfilling than any item or person, or false God could ever be. I pray that we open our hearts to Jesus, and that we may never forget His sacrifice for each and every one of us. He never forgets us; let us remember that. Jesus, pour your love onto us! Holy Spirit, come to overflow! Thank you for reading! This article serves as a reminder that you can make anything become a God in your life. It’s important to realize that this is dangerous. Jesus is the one true God. He is the way, the truth, the life. He is love. He is better than anything you could imagine. Keep that in mind, my lovely friends :) © Sienna King

Introduction Those unfamiliar with physicist Erwin Schrödinger’s famous 1935 thought experiment, Schrödinger’s Cat, may be wondering, “What in the world is the above image showing? Somebody please let that poor cat out of that box before it suffocates!” As a cat lover, I naturally felt sorry for the cat in this image, too, until I realized it was only a story meant to highlight the strangeness of modern physics. Schrödinger’s thought experiment wasn’t an actual experiment. [1] He used the illustration to demonstrate how ridiculous it is to apply the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum-mechanical superposition (something existing in two states simultaneously) to everyday objects. The following describes how he designed his illustration. He envisioned a cat placed in a sealed box with a radioactive atom, a Geiger counter, and poison gas. If the atom decays, the cat dies; if it does not, the cat lives. According to quantum mechanics, until the box is opened and observed, the cat, like the atom, exists in a superposition, meaning it is both alive and dead at the same time. By Author Schrödinger was not trying to prove that reality is ambiguous. He was trying to say that our theories about reality may be incomplete. I heartily agree with Steve Turgeon’s comments on this thought experiment. It’s ironic how Schrödinger is celebrated as a pioneer of quantum mechanics, when his most famous thought experiment was actually a critique of its absurdity. The cat wasn’t meant to illustrate a quantum mystery — it was meant to expose how ridiculous it is to treat superpositions as literal. He didn’t glorify the weirdness; he challenged it. Sometimes the sharpest contributions come from those who aren’t convinced by the “theory” at all. [2] How this illustration relates to Christianity One interpretation of Schrödinger’s cat is that reality doesn’t exist until it is observed. In this view, consciousness, or observation itself, is what creates truth. The “Relativists” love this idea. Christianity, however, firmly rejects this idea, holding that observation itself does not create reality. Scripture presents God as the ultimate observer who created the universe, which exists and operates independently of human awareness. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. (Colossians 1:17, NIV) Reality, like truth, exists whether we acknowledge it or not. We know that the theoretical cat in this illustration is either alive or dead, regardless of who observes it. Christian theology insists that God, not human observers, forms the basis of reality. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. (Hebrews 4:13, NIV) According to God’s Word, reality is always fully known, truth is never ambiguous or in superposition (in two states at once), and creation is sustained moment by moment. What may seem uncertain to us is never uncertain to God. Modern culture loves quantum mechanics Humanists in our modern culture often borrow quantum language (such as the term superposition) to justify their belief in moral relativism. They assume that the uncertainty of subatomic particles’ states and the observer issue justify the belief that truth is fluid, undefined, or depends on the situation or the individual’s perspective. Christianity rejects this ambiguity and the idea that both good and evil can be true at the same time. Scripture shows that Truth is not invented, it is not created by group consensus or individual observation, it is discovered. Woe to those who call evil good and good evil. (Isaiah 5:20, NIV) Many people today believe that faith is believing in something that isn’t true, and that people who live by it ignore reality. Christianity teaches the opposite, treating faith as something concrete and insisting that it doesn’t deny unseen reality; it trusts that unseen reality is real, ordered, and purposeful. Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. (Hebrews 11:1, NIV) Just as scientists trust that invisible particles exist based on scientific evidence, Christian’s trust God based on revelation, history, and reason. We all want clarity Schrödinger’s cat illustration highlights humanity’s discomfort with ambiguity. The unresolved states in the story unsettle us because we want clarity and certainty. Christianity grappled with the uncertainty principle as well. At the cross, death seemed victorious. At the resurrection, God resolved the deepest uncertainty of all: Is there life after death, or is death final? He didn’t leave that question in superposition but proclaimed that life wins! Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen. (Luke 24:5–6, ESV) Conclusion Christianity teaches that God and truth are knowable, even as Schrödinger’s cat illustrates the absurdity of applying the quantum principle of superposition to the state of a cat’s life. The universe is understandable because it was created by the One who created it and who wanted us to understand it. Truth is not waiting for us to define it. It is defined by and sustained by God, and that fact makes me and my cat O’Malley very happy. © Debra Hodges References: 1. What did Schrodinger’s Cat experiment prove? (2013, July 30). Science Questions With Surprising Answers. https://www.wtamu.edu/~cbaird/sq/2013/07/30/what-did-schrodingers-cat-experiment-prove/. 2. (4) 90 years ago this month, Erwin. . . — American Physical Society | Facebook. (n.d.). https://www.facebook.com/apsphysics/posts/90-years-ago-this-month-erwin-schr%C3%B6dinger-proposed-his-now-famous-thought-experi/1067658572072490/

There are truths so foundational to the Christian life that, once grasped, they quietly reshape how we see every sunrise, every hardship, and every breath we take. One of those truths is this: God is good, and His goodness is not fragile. It does not rise and fall with our circumstances, nor does it depend on our performance. It flows from His character, steady and unchanging, like the mercy described in Lamentations 3:22–23, renewed every morning before our feet ever touch the floor. Many believers can look back over their lives and trace the fingerprints of God’s goodness long before they recognized them. The psalmist reflected on this when he wrote of God’s hand holding him from the moment he awoke until he lay down again, a reminder echoed in Psalm 139:5 and Psalm 23:6. Whether we were aware of it or not, the Lord has been faithfully present — guiding, protecting, correcting, and sustaining. This is why the song “Goodness of God” (Bethel Music, 2019) resonates so deeply with so many. Its testimony mirrors the lived experience of countless believers: “All my life You have been faithful… all my life You have been so, so good.” Those words are not sentimental optimism; they are a confession rooted in Scripture. Psalm 100:5 declares that the Lord is good and His steadfast love endures forever. James 1:17 reminds us that every good and perfect gift comes from Him. And Romans 8:28 assures us that even the things we would never choose are being woven for our good by a God who cannot act outside His own goodness. Yet acknowledging God’s goodness is not always easy. Life brings seasons of fire, as 1 Peter 1:6–7 describes, and nights that feel darker than we imagined possible. But Scripture insists that God is near in those moments, not distant. The psalmist testified that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted in Psalm 34:18. Isaiah spoke of God walking with His people through the fire in Isaiah 43:2. And Paul wrote of a God who comforts us in all our afflictions in 2 Corinthians 1:3–4. These passages remind us that God’s goodness is not proven by the absence of trials but by His presence in them. Sometimes His goodness is protective: closing doors we wanted open or redirecting us when we were determined to go our own way. Other times His goodness is corrective, as Hebrews 12:6 explains, shaping us through discipline that ultimately yields peace and righteousness. And often His goodness is simply tender: the quiet assurance of His Spirit, the unexpected encouragement from a friend, the strength to take one more step when we feel empty. These are not coincidences; they are expressions of a Father who knows His children intimately, as Jesus described in Matthew 6:8. One of the most beautiful aspects of God’s goodness is that it pursues us. David wrote that goodness and mercy would follow him all the days of his life in Psalm 23:6. The Hebrew idea behind “follow” is not passive; it carries the sense of pursuit. God’s goodness does not trail behind us casually. It runs after us, as the song’s bridge proclaims. This pursuit is seen most clearly in Christ Himself. Jesus came “to seek and to save the lost,” as stated in Luke 19:10. He pursued us when we were far from Him, reconciled us through His sacrifice, and now leads us as a Shepherd who lays down His life for His sheep, as described in John 10:11. When we recognize this, pursuing goodness, surrender becomes a natural response. Scripture calls us to this same posture. Paul urges believers to present their bodies as living sacrifices in Romans 12:1. Jesus teaches that following Him requires denying ourselves and taking up our cross in Mark 8:34. Surrender is not loss; it is the doorway to freedom, peace, and purpose. It is trusting that the God who has been faithful in every season will continue to be faithful in the next. Living in the goodness of God also shapes how we relate to others. When we understand how deeply we have been loved, forgiven, and sustained, we become more patient, more gracious, and more generous. Paul wrote that believers are to imitate God as dearly loved children in Ephesians 5:1–2. The goodness we have received becomes the goodness we extend. As we reflect on God’s goodness, we are invited to do more than remember. It calls us to worship. Worship is not merely singing; it is the posture of a heart that recognizes the faithfulness of God across the landscape of life. It is the declaration that, regardless of what tomorrow holds, the God who has carried us this far will not fail us now. It is choosing to trust His character when we cannot trace His hand. So today, take a moment to look back. Trace the threads of God’s goodness in your story: the answered prayers, the unexpected provision, the strength in weakness, the peace in chaos, the forgiveness that restored you, the grace that held you. And then look forward with confidence, knowing that the same God who has been faithful in every chapter will be faithful in the ones still to come. Because all our lives, He has been faithful. And all our lives, He has been so, so good. © Randy DeVaul, MA

“How can anyone know what is best for a man in this short, useless life of his — a life that passes like a shadow?”- Ecclesiastes 6:12 (GNT). When I think about the above verse, the answer is God. Only He knows what’s best for us. King Hezekiah was one of the few kings of Judah who was loyal to the Lord. In fact, 2 Kings 18:5–6 says: "Hezekiah trusted in the Lord, the God of Israel; Judah never had another king like him either before or after his time. He was faithful to the Lord and never disobeyed Him…” That’s quite a resume. At one point, though, Hezekiah fell seriously ill. Almost died. And during that time, the prophet Isaiah came to him with a message straight from God: put everything in order, you’re not going to recover, get ready to die (2 Kings 20:1). That’s not a doctor’s opinion. That’s not a rumor. That’s God speaking through a prophet. If I were Hezekiah, I think I would have accepted it. Maybe I’d be sad, maybe very dejected, but I’d eventually come to terms with it. I’d start saying my goodbyes. Probably even go coffin-box shopping. Haha. But Hezekiah didn’t do that. Instead, the Bible says he turned his face to the wall and prayed. And he cried. Bitterly. Imagine that. A king. Crying like that before God. What’s interesting is this: when Hezekiah prayed, he didn’t directly ask God to heal him. He didn’t explicitly say, “Please give me more years.” Instead, he said this: “Remember, Lord, how I have served you faithfully and loyally and how I have always tried to do what you wanted me to do.” (2 Kings 20:3) Does God need reminding? Obviously not. So why did Hezekiah pray like that? I don’t think he had lost hope. I don’t think he had lost the will to live either. Sure, Proverbs 18:14 (GNT) is wisdom. Even after receiving a direct word from God, he still prayed. He still poured his heart out. There was something very child-like about it. Almost stubborn. Here’s a strange image that came to my mind. Imagine you have a pet golden retriever. Lovely dogs. Always ebullient. You take it for a morning walk in a big, green park. Sunny day. Kids playing. Birds chirping. It’s been an hour, and it’s time to go home. The dog doesn’t agree. Photo by Eric Ward It slows down. Resists. Maybe even sits down dramatically. Gives you that look that says, “Just five more minutes, human.” Not crying bitterly, but definitely whining. People around start watching. Someone might even record you both and upload it to the internet. America’s Funniest Videos, here we come. Haha. That’s kind of how Hezekiah looks to me in my imagination. And maybe, in God’s eyes too. His trust in God was deep. Whole-hearted. Almost naive. Like a child with a parent or a loyal dog with its owner. He wasn’t calculating outcomes. He just didn’t want to go yet. And God heard him. Hezekiah was given 15 more years to live. Most sermons stop there. Miracle. Prayer answered. God is good. Everyone claps. Yay! But was that really what God wanted? God originally wanted Hezekiah to leave this earth and come to Him. What happened in those extra 15 years matters a lot. During that time, Hezekiah fathered a son named Manasseh. Chapter 21 of 2 Kings begins by saying Manasseh was 12 years old when he became king. Which means he was born after Hezekiah’s life was extended. And Manasseh turned out to be one of the most wicked kings Judah ever had! He built altars for idols. Worshipped other gods, stars. Sacrificed his own son as a burnt offering. He filled Jerusalem with innocent blood. The Bible says the Lord’s anger burned intensely because of him. (2 Kings 21:3, 6, 16) It’s chilling. Perhaps God, in His wisdom, saw what was coming. Perhaps He knew what kind of destruction would follow. Perhaps He didn’t want Manasseh to be born at all. Hezekiah couldn’t have known that. He was just a faithful, obedient, golden retriever kind of man who loved God deeply. But love alone isn’t always the same as surrender. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, sounded a bit like Hezekiah when He prayed. He asked if the cup of suffering could pass from Him. But then came the words that changed everything: “Yet not what I want, but what you want…” (Mark 14:36, GNT). Those words matter. Immensely. Imagine if Jesus didn’t say them. Whoa! We’d be in very deep trouble. The cup had to be drunk. Hezekiah refused his cup. Jesus didn’t. One man’s refusal led to a nation slowly falling apart through Manasseh. One man’s surrender led to the salvation of humanity. C.S. Lewis put it painfully well: "There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’” That quote deserves to sit right here. Let it linger. So what do we learn from this? If God says something, let it be final. Even if it costs you your life. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if it hurts. If Abraham had argued endlessly for Isaac instead of obeying, we probably wouldn’t be here. God’s wisdom runs far deeper than our timelines, emotions, and logic. Our mortal minds are puny. Short-sighted. May we remember that His thoughts are not our thoughts, and His ways are not our ways.” (Isaiah 55:8) It is humbling. And definitely uncomfortable. But maybe that’s the point. Writing is one of the ways I process faith and life, and this post is part of that journey. If you’d like to explore more of my writing, you can visit my Amazon Author Central page and check out my books. Thanks for reading! © Dr. Anudeep Manne

Recently, I read a quote stating that we don't see the world as it is; we see it as we are. I didn't pay much attention to it, so I can't remember where I read it or who said it, but it stuck with me. Prosperity promises Last night I watched a few podcasts, all saying the same thing: God is about to break through in my life and change my circumstances. He is going to restore me and heal me. It's wonderful. It's exciting. I needed these messages, and the effect seemed amplified as I saw many similar messages. But then I started thinking about it. It's possible that these podcasts will be viewed by millions of people. Is God saying this to all of us? Are all of us in desperate need of God's deliverance and intervention, or is it clickbait? Is it a matter of gaining viewership and generating revenue, or is it real? I guess we have to know the podcasters, and even then, we won't know what's really in their hearts. Did they hear from God, or are they trying to benefit from our pain? There are so many arguments for and against these messages. It’s good to encourage someone. It’s good to point them to God and give them hope in dire circumstances. It’s good to speak life and focus on God and His goodness. I know I need to hear positive words. I naturally gravitate toward these messages. However, it doesn’t benefit me if it’s a false hope and a deceitful message. How will I know the truth? Reading the Bible It made me wonder about how I read the Bible. Am I reading God’s Word through the lens of my circumstances, or do I see it as God intended? Do I blindly apply my favorite verses, taking them out of context, because I like what I read? It speaks to me in my circumstances. It gives me hope in the midst of my pain. I latch onto them as if they are a life raft in my ocean of problems. Am I giving myself false hope? Should I take every promise at face value, or should I develop a broader perspective? Certainly, when God gave a promise to an individual or a nation at a particular time, they could believe it, but is God saying the same to me in my time and situation? Is God giving me the future I hope for (Jeremiah 29:11), and is He working all things together for my good (Romans 8:28)? Are the angels protecting me so that I won’t stub my toe against a stone, or that I won’t break any bones? How do these promises stack up against my reality and my experience? Personal experience I don't know about you, but I have stubbed my toes many times. Bad things happen. Many Christians are persecuted, tortured, and killed. I'm sure many of them regularly declared Psalm 91 over themselves and their families. What am I missing? A few days ago, I read something in the Bible that has never registered with me before. I have read my Bible from Genesis to the maps numerous times, yet I haven't seen this before. God said that we treat Him like dirt when we don't trust Him. When Moses struck the rock (Numbers 20) instead of speaking to it, God told Moses that he wouldn't lead the people into the promised land because he didn't trust God. Trust. It's one little word. What does it mean? Stephen served God wholeheartedly. He was full of the Holy Spirit, yet he was stoned. Paul made a complete turnaround from persecuting the church to proclaiming the Gospel, yet he didn’t have an easy life. So many of the characters in the Bible struggled with the same questions, uncertainties, and problems I face. Some found relief and deliverance, but others died, still waiting for unfulfilled promises. Joseph received dreams from God, but he had to suffer dire circumstances for many years before he saw the results. Likewise, David was anointed as king, but he was on the run for many years, and even after he became king, he faced challenges regularly. Considering character after character in the Bible clearly demonstrates that there is no such thing as an easy life. We don't suffer for a short time and then experience utopia. We don't graduate to a better life here on earth after we've suffered and survived trying times. Paul shared that he learned to be content regardless of his circumstances (Philippians 4:11-13). He learned to be content. I'm sure these lessons weren't easy. He admonished us to focus on things above, not on things of the earth. Our focus should not be on us or our circumstances. Our focus should be on God. The things that can be seen will pass, but the things we can't see will last forever. What about these promises of breakthroughs, restoration, and healing? What do podcasters and preachers gain from giving us such messages? Can we believe these people? Our unique relationship with God I know that God created us uniquely, and our walk with Him is as unique and personal as our creation, and He can speak these promises to us personally in our circumstances. His Word is alive and active, and He speaks to us today. It could be that God is saying that I will experience breakthroughs in my life shortly. However, better than listening to these podcasts, I’d rather hold onto Jesus' words. He said that in this life we will have troubles (John 16:33). He also said that our Father knows what we need (Matthew 6:25-34). I have concluded that my God, my loving Father, will provide my needs. What He doesn’t provide, I don’t need. It’s as simple as that. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want it, or that I stop hoping for it. I have decided to trust God. He knows what I need, and He won’t give me a snake or a scorpion when I need sustenance. What I need most is the Holy Spirit (Luke 11:13), His wisdom, guidance, and intercessory prayers. God promised His Holy Spirit to anyone who asks Him. Grace I've accepted God's Word to Paul when he prayed for the deliverance he thought he needed. God didn't take away his thorn, but promised that His grace was sufficient for him (2 Corinthians 12:9). God will provide sufficient grace for each day. The days may be difficult, but I will receive grace to help me live victoriously despite my circumstances. My prayer is that God will use my circumstances to draw me closer to Him. What do you think? Should we cling to favorite verses and prosperity podcasts, or should we take Jesus at His Word, expect trouble, and rest in the assurance that our Father will take care of us? © Rina Schultz