Faithful Writers

When God listens in, and when He moves on. Picture this: you and a friend are sitting at your local coffee shop, catching up on each other’s lives. Who would be secretly listening in on your conversation? Not the barista behind the counter. They are too busy. Not the businessperson furiously clicking away at their open laptop. Perhaps the nosy person at the table beside you is pretending not to, but furtively leaning your way. Photo by Hümâ H. Yardım on Unsplash But what about God? Is there a time when He would be clandestinely listening to your conversation? When would He hear a few of your words and leave? And when would He pull up a chair and intently take in what you are discussing? First, can God listen to our conversation? Of course. Here’s what David wrote: “Does he who fashioned the ear not hear? Does he who formed the eye not see?” Psalm 94:9 NIV The New Living Translation states it this way: “Is he deaf — the one who made your ears? Is he blind — the one who formed your eyes?” Why would God visit a coffee shop? There are 8.2 billion people on Earth today, and 38,000 coffee shops worldwide . Since I live in the US, there are over 22,800 Java joints for Him to pop into and listen to Table #4. There is only one reason for Him to visit yours and not bounce to the next. It’s not for the prayers. Yes, God hears your prayers. “Father God, please bless this half-caf skinny mochaccino to the nourishment of our bodies, Amen.” He loves our thanksgiving acknowledgements of His provision. But prayers come to Him. Three times in Revelation, John wrote that the prayers of the saints are offered as a sweet savor to God. (5:8, 8:3, and 8:4) When we pray, it’s like God just drove by a bakery or a barbecue restaurant. He loves the scent. “The eyes of the Lord watch over those who do right, and his ears are open to their prayers.” 1 Peter 3:12 But I’m not talking about our prayers. What about our daily conversations? Would God listen to the casual chats between you and your Christian bro or faith-filled gal pal? Yes. The proof comes from the Hebrew scriptures. “Then those who feared the LORD spoke with each other, and the LORD listened to what they said. In his presence, a scroll of remembrance was written to record the names of those who feared him and always thought about the honor of his name.” Mal 3:16 The King James version says they “spoke OFTEN to one another.” Not to God. To each other. And how does God respond? He pulls up a chair and listens. Yes, He hears your prayers. But He also listens to your conversations with other believers. If it’s grumbling and complaining, He moves on. He’ll bounce if it glorifies doubt, fear, hate, or deconstructionism. There is not much whining in the presence of a holy and mighty God. If your conversation brings Him glory, He will listen and take notes. He wants it written down for eternity. “In his presence, a scroll of remembrance was written to record the names of those who feared him and always thought about the honor of his name.” Mal 3:15 NLT There is a heavenly scribe taking notes and recording the minutes from your meeting at a coffee shop. The Message Version puts it this way: “Then those whose lives honored God got together and talked it over. God saw what they were doing and listened in. A book was opened in God’s presence and minutes were taken of the meeting, with the names of the God-fearers written down, all the names of those who honored God’s name.” Who knew so much of the spiritual realm engaged in a group sitting in the corner booth, sharing a blueberry muffin, and talking about how God is showing up in their lives? God loves those gatherings. It’s why Jesus said: ”For where two or three gather together as my followers, I am there among them.” Mat 18:20 He doesn’t specify the location. He loves the gathering, the camaraderie, the fellowship, and the friendship. He starts taking notes if the conversation turns from politics and Netflix to Him. What Are Holy Words That Please God? You might think the next meet-up must look like a Pharisee convention. Nope. God delights when we dump the funk on our accountability partner. Our honesty and transparency about our lives will bust hypocrisy. The many scriptures about confessing secret sins to one another show how powerful a coffee shop meeting can be. What happens to the meeting notes? They are read back at the judgment. Most Christians fear the part about giving an account of every idle word at the judgment. (Mat 12:36) We’ve all been stupid with our mouths. But have you considered that every prayer at a meal, every “thank you” at narrowly avoiding a car accident, and every “God bless you” to a frazzled cashier will also be read back and rewarded? Books? Plural? Here’s where the “Book or Remembrance” will come into play. Most Christians know that when we devote our lives to Jesus, our names are written in “The Lamb’s Book of Life”. But that is not the only opened book. “And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life. The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books.” Rev 20:12 Yes, dear friend, the “Book of Remembrance” is opened, and your reward is great because you met at a coffee shop and honored the One who created you. You might have thought it was just two friends catching up. But it was a powerful spiritual moment that affected your eternal destiny and reward. Here’s the rest of the story. The following two verses say: “On the day when I act,” says the Lord Almighty, “they will be my treasured possession. I will spare them, just as a father has compassion and spares his son who serves him. And you will again see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not.” Mal 3: 17–18 NLT The NLT calls you His treasured possession. Other translations call you His “special treasure” and “jewels." Never underestimate the value of your chats. Many have entertained angels unaware. (Heb 13:2) And the God of the universe just might be smiling as He listens to your conversation. © I.M. Koen Stay tuned for part 2, “God and IKEA trains.” I’ll tell you how I learned this lesson. It wasn’t in Jerusalem on the Temple Mount . It was in a child’s bedroom in Denton, Texas. Thank you for reading this. May God reveal to you how precious you are to Him. And may you never forget how much you are loved. You sit protected and cherished among God’s special treasures. You are loved! -Issachar You might also enjoy reading: Jesus Wants to Make You Breakfast. Speaking These Four Words Can Kill You. What a Megachurch Can Learn from the Marines.

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

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

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

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

Is grace unfair? For too much of my life, I read the Prodigal Son story and saw myself in the younger brother. Wild heart. Restless soul. I made my share of mistakes. Took some bad turns. Wandered far. Came back humbled, grateful. I thought that was the point of the story. Until one day, I read it again — and it hit differently. I wasn’t the younger brother anymore. I was the older one. Wasn’t Faithfulness Supposed to Feel Better Than This? Jesus tells the story in Luke 15. The younger brother demands his inheritance early, leaves home, wastes everything, and crawls back broke and starving. The father sees him coming, runs to meet him, hugs him, and throws a party. Meanwhile, the older brother is out in the field — working. Faithful. Consistent. Obedient. He hears the music and dancing. Finds out it’s for his little brother. And something inside him snaps. He refuses to go in. The father comes out to him, too. And the older brother lets it all out: “Look, all these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.” (Luke 15:29) That was me. I didn’t say it out loud. But in my heart? I knew. When Did Grace Start to Feel Unfair? I’d been keeping score without realizing it. I stayed faithful. I kept showing up. I tried to do the right thing. And I assumed that meant… something. Recognition. Reward. At least a little celebration. But it didn’t come. Instead, I watched people walk away from the church, come back, and get welcomed like heroes. I clapped on the outside. But inside, I was thinking: Really? That’s it? Just throw them a party and move on? I started to feel like grace was unfair. And then I realized — that’s the whole point. Can You Be Lost Without Ever Leaving? Jesus told this story to the Pharisees, who were mad that he was hanging out with sinners. They thought they had earned God’s approval. They thought grace had limits. So Jesus gave them a story about two lost sons. One ran away. The other stayed bitter. One left physically. The other left emotionally. I had never really left — but I was definitely far from joy, from celebration, from the Father’s heart. I was doing everything right. And I was still missing the party. What if I Already Had What I Was Looking For? The father says something to the older son that becomes personal: “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” (Luke 15:31) I’d spent so long trying to earn something that was already mine. I had access to the Father. I just hadn’t enjoyed it. I’d made my faith into a job description. A checklist. And I let that quiet resentment fester. Sarah Bessey had this to say, “ The table of Christ is wide. It offends the rule-followers. It makes room for the mess-makers.” Will I Walk Into the Feast? Jesus leaves the story open-ended. We don’t know if the older brother goes inside. It’s like he’s looking at me, asking: What about you? Will you stay outside, clinging to your record? Or will you come inside, empty-handed? Will you be angry at Grace? Or will you be part of it?That’s the question I keep coming back to. I’ve been both sons. The runner and the resenter. The broken and the bitter. What Role Are You Playing Right Now? Ask yourself and think. Are you the younger brother — wondering if it’s safe to come home? Are you the older brother — standing outside, arms crossed, heart cold? Are you the father in someone else’s story — learning to open your arms when it’s hard? Wherever you are, grace is still available. Not as a prize. But as a party, you don’t have to earn. The only thing keeping us from joy might be our own pride. Let’s not miss the feast because you’re keeping score. © Gary L Ellis

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash 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” (Galatians 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

The First Instructions About Prayer. There have been a number of my Medium buddies going through some tough times. I don’t pretend to know why God just doesn’t do a better job of things. But I know it must be the best way because it has cost Him so much. But the Holy Spirit has left exquisite pearls of Wisdom in His Word, waiting to be found, which show that He is not a boring Teacher. He gives instruction on Prayer which show that He is the consummate Lateral Thinker. unsplash.com How? The Lord shows things first in the natural then in the spiritual so that we get some comprehension of what He is doing outside our spectrum of sight and sound — as is written in 1 Corinthians 15:46–47: However, the spiritual is not first, but the natural, and afterwards the spiritual. The first man was of the earth, made of dust; the second Man is the Lord from heaven. On the topic of Prayer, there are a number of verses which liken the Prayers of the Saints to being a Sweet Savour to the Lord. One example that the prayers of the Saints are Incense to the Most High is written in Revelation 5:8: Now when He had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each having a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. The recipe for the incense is written in Exodus 30:34–35: And the Lord said to Moses: “Take sweet spices, stacte and onycha and galbanum, and pure frankincense with these sweet spices; there shall be equal amounts of each. You shall make of these an incense, a compound according to the art of the perfumer, salted, pure, and holy. A teaching by a Messianic Rabbi (Orthodox trained), Dick Reuben , describes the constituents of the recipe given by God. Stacte — it came from the resin of a pine tree. It was not difficult to collect — it came freely. This speaks of how God wants our incense to be given — freely and spontaneously. Onycha — Came from a particular shellfish. The shellfish was located deep in the ocean, and the men had to let down their nets to collect it. This speaks of how our prayer, worship and praise must come from the very depths of our heart, not because we are being pressured from the worship leader, but because we want to. Galbanum — Collected from the myrtle tree. The limbs were broken and the men would come back the next day to collect the sap that had issued forth from the broken area. This speaks of how our prayer, praise, worship, and intercession must come out of our brokenness. Frankincense — Collected from a tree that is split in the twilight hours of the evening. Nothing happens during the night, but in the early hours of the morning the resin begins to weep. The resin is the Frankincense. Out of our piercing and sorrows in the early hours of the morning comes our prayer, praise and worship and intercession. The Rabbi does an experiment to show that the chemistry is delicate. He grinds up the constituents (Of course, this is not exactly to the proportions given in Exodus 30. That is expressly forbidden by the Lord on the pain of death.) and tries to ignite the mix — to no avail, no matter how much heat is applied. But there is a commonly unnoticed component which is sitting in plain sight in the Written Word of the Living Word of God — salt. When a critical amount of salt is introduced into the mix it ignites easily and the Sweet Savour rises to fill the room. Obviously it is a vital ingredient which must be present. Salt –It is written in Matthew 5:13: “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” Just as obviously, it is the prayers of salty Saints that attract God’s attention. The chemical structure of common salt (the context of the scriptures make it clear that the compound NaCl is the material being mentioned) is such that if another element is added it is no longer NaCl. The only way for salt to lose its saltiness, therefore, is by dilution. Two polar extremes of dilution are pure rain water and raw sewerage. One of these is less palatable than the other but that makes it the least dangerous because it is immediately recognised and spat out. However it is possible to gradually dilute with more and more rain water until the saltiness is lost, unnoticed. When the Disciples couldn’t cast out the demon, Mark 9:14–32, Jesus demonstrated that the way life is lived between prayer sessions is much more important than the eloquence of the prayers spoken — after all, He knows what you’re about to say before you do. Often the salt comes from the trembling prayers spoken through tears. But remember it is written in Psalm 56:8–9: You number my wanderings; Put my tears into Your bottle; Are they not in Your book? When I cry out to You, Then my enemies will turn back; This I know, because God is for me. And in Joel 2:25–27: So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten. The crawling locust, The consuming locust, And the chewing locust, My great army which I sent among you. You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, And praise the name of the Lord your God, Who has dealt wondrously with you; And My people shall never be put to shame. Then you shall know that I am in the midst of My Church: I am the Lord your God And there is no other. I will never reject My People. Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! The forgoing evidence has not been presented to convince any reader but to allow a personal decision to be made. There is much more to know about this subject. Perhaps you’ll pay another visit, sometime. If you have seen something you like, I encourage plagiarism. So, always check everything I say first, then please re-cycle, re-brand, re-structure, re-issue, re-label, or regurgitate in any manner you please. No need to acknowledge me because it is the Holy Spirit Who holds the Intellectual Rights. All Glory to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. (We all have a plank in our eye. It’s bigger than we think.) © ネ

Here's a tricky-ish concept to wrap your mind around, and I'm going to bet a few have never end thought of this one. First, this comes from the fact that I have read and witnessed many encounters where people (who are Christian) say to another person that IF they have the Holy Spirit in them, they'll basically "just know" that what they are saying/writing is correct. Yeah, that's not how it works, and it's also pretty crummy to say that to a Christian in the first place, because you are insulting their journey and also trying to get in the way of God's timing for them. See, I've read a lot of stuff and listened to a lot of people in my day. Sometimes I get a definitive "Yes!" from the Holy Spirit, other times, actually a lot of the time, I get a "Nope! Hold up," I want you to really look into that and test the spirit here. So that's what I do, I go in and look at the Biblical foundation of what I've just read, or heard. Then about half of the time that turns out to be hogwash, but the other half turns out to be Biblically sound, and we're good to go. So why did the Holy Spirit put the brakes on when the information was sound?  That's the root of this article.  Why would He do that? Because: "Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God," 1 John 4:1–2 And: "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness," 2 Timothy 3:16 See here's the thing to think about - Everybody who was anyone tested God like no tomorrow in the Old Testament. In the New Testament, the Pharisees and Sadducees tested Jesus, and we all know how that story went. So why wouldn't we test the Holy Spirit? We are actually instructed to do so. "This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God" If we relied on the Holy Spirit to answer every yes or no situation without any elbow grease put in there, then what is the point? We'd never grow, we'd never learn, we'd never recognize. We need to be aware of this and allow readers to apply this to us when we write or speak to people about God or on a specific topic, most especially a heavy or complex one, because we are human and make mistakes. Just because we are believers and most of us are well-studied doesn't mean squat to a stranger, and honestly, it shouldn't.  Because they may not be ready to learn that topic yet, or God wants them focusing on something else, or it's way above their head because there's terminology and complexities in there that gave them a migraine, and they're not quite there yet.  But. Going to another person and saying or writing that if they don't understand, believe, or feel hesitant about what you are saying, is now very obviously quite rude, to them and to God. Stop telling people that IF they had God, they'd believe what you are saying or reading, because that's one sure-fire way to lose a believer who may be new or struggling. We are not all in the same place of understanding and knowledge, so how about we let the Holy Spirit do its job and lay off the guilt trips? © Jane Isley Thank you for taking the time to read, and please consider  supporting my work . Your gift helps keep this work going, blesses others, and means the world to me. You can visit me at Faithful Writers  on Medium, where other Christian writers have joined me in sharing the word of God. You can also find me on   Tumblr  and   Facebook.

Jesus, Why Did You Say, “It’s Better That He Leave?” I used to think following Jesus would’ve been easier if I’d lived back then — walking behind Him on Galilee’s roads, hearing His parables live, watching Him heal with a touch. But then I’m confronted with His statement in John 16:7: “It is better for you that I go away. For if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send Him to you.” Better? Really? Better than Jesus beside me? Here’s the thing: The Spirit of God isn’t a dusty doctrine we fight over. The Holy Spirit is a living, pulsing reality. From Map to GPS When Jesus was here, He was bound by time and space. If He was teaching in Capernaum, He wasn’t walking through Bethany. His presence was limited to one location, one conversation at a time. But the Spirit? He’s not beside me in one spot — He is within me, everywhere I go. The facts are these: The Scriptures tell us that the word of the gospel and the power of the Spirit always go together. It’s the difference between carrying a map and carrying a GPS. A map sits beside you. A GPS speaks from within, recalculates when you drift, and guides moment by moment. That’s what the Spirit does. Power in the Ordinary We act like following Jesus is about trying harder, imitating His example, and doing our best to live up to His sandals. But the Spirit flips that script . It’s not about me living like Jesus is beside me; it’s about Christ living His life through me by the Spirit within. Paul said it this way: “I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). The Spirit of God isn’t just Sunday-morning fireworks — it’s Tuesday traffic patience, Wednesday night peace when the worries won’t shut up, Thursday morning courage when you want to quit. We can feel the Holy Spirit. Notice that the Fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22 are not flat theological terms but emotional descriptions. A Better Promise Here’s the stunning truth: we don’t have less than the disciples had — we have more. The same Spirit who hovered over creation now hovers in our hearts. Jesus didn’t abandon us when He ascended — He multiplied His presence. He moved from being beside His followers to being within every single one. The disciples felt Him. Nothing has changed if it’s better. He didn’t say that it was better that He go away so that we could argue and debate over doctrinal dogmas. The Takeaway Don’t settle for a Jesus-beside memory when you’ve been given a Spirit-within reality. Invite Him into your ordinary. Trust the wild promise that the Spirit in you is better than Jesus beside you. Because He’s not just near. He’s right here. © Gary L Ellis