JESUS—THE PROPHET LIKE MOSES

“The Lord your God will raise up for you a Prophet from among your own people—one of your brothers—and you must listen to Him. This is what you asked of the Lord your God at Mount Horeb on the day the people gathered, when you said, ‘Don’t let us hear the voice of the Lord our God again or see this great fire anymore, or we will die.’ And the Lord said to me, ‘What they have said is right. I will raise up a Prophet from among their brothers, one like you, and I will put My words in His mouth. He will speak to them everything I command Him’” (Deuteronomy 18:15–18).

When Moses climbed Mount Sinai, the mountain trembled beneath the weight of glory. The summit blazed like a forge in heaven, and the air itself seemed alive with holiness (Exodus 19:18). That mountain was more than a geographical location. It was a meeting place between frail humanity and eternal majesty. There, God gave a man His words written in fire and thunder. Yet even then, hidden in that smoke and glory, God whispered of another Prophet to come—one greater than Moses, one who would not just speak the Word but be the Word (Deuteronomy 18:15; John 1:14).

Jesus is that Prophet. The fulfillment, not the echo. The substance, not the shadow. Moses was a servant in the house; Jesus is the Son over it (Hebrews 3.5–6).

The Call and the Fire

Moses first met God in the desert when he saw a bush that burned but was not consumed (Exodus 3:2). It was as though creation itself had caught fire with the presence of its Maker, and yet it endured. That bush was a prophecy of the Christ to come. For Jesus too would burn with the holiness of God, carrying divinity in the frailty of flesh. And yet He would not be consumed. The fire of deity dwelt safely within the bush of humanity.

The Lord told Moses to remove his sandals because the ground had become holy. In Christ, the ground of our hearts becomes holy. When Jesus dwells within us, ordinary people become burning bushes, aflame with divine purpose yet unconsumed by the fire.

The Deliverer and the Cross

When God sent Moses back to Egypt, he went with a rod in his hand and heaven’s authority in his heart. That rod parted seas and shattered chains. Moses stood before the waters, and they fled from his command (Exodus 14:21). Yet when Jesus came, He did not raise a rod but a cross. With outstretched arms, He parted the sea of sin and opened a path through death itself.

Moses delivered Israel from Pharaoh’s whip. Jesus delivers souls from Satan’s grip. Moses led them out of Egypt’s brick pits. Jesus leads us out of the bondage of sin. Pharaoh’s armies drowned in the Red Sea. The hosts of hell were disarmed at the cross (Colossians 2:15). What Moses did with a rod of wood, Jesus did with a tree of Calvary.

The Law and the Grace

Moses ascended Sinai to receive the Law, the Word carved in stone (Exodus 31:18). When he descended, his face shone with reflected glory (Exodus 34:29). He carried commandments that revealed the holiness of God and the sinfulness of man. But when Jesus climbed another mountain—the Mount of Transfiguration—His face shone not with reflected light but with light from within (Matthew 17:2). He was not a mirror; He was the Sun. Moses gave the Law that could reveal guilt. Jesus gave grace that could remove it (John 1:17).

Moses placed the Law inside the Ark. Jesus placed the Law inside the believer’s heart (Jeremiah 31:33; Romans 8:4). The tablets of stone have become tablets of flesh, and the same finger that wrote on Sinai now writes upon the soul.

The Intercessor and the Mediator

Moses interceded for the people when they sinned. He stood in the gap when the wrath of God threatened to destroy them (Exodus 32:11-14). He pleaded, “Yet now, if You will forgive their sin. But if not, blot me out of Your book.” That was the heart of a shepherd willing to die for his sheep. But there was one greater still. Jesus did not merely offer to be blotted out—He was. He bore our sins in His own body on the tree (1 Peter 2:24). He did not just stand in the gap; He became the bridge.

Moses lifted his hands to intercede for Israel in battle, and when his arms grew weary, Aaron and Hur held them up (Exodus 17:12). Jesus intercedes with hands that never grow weary, for they are nail-scarred hands of eternal priesthood (Hebrews 7:25).

The Wilderness and the Word

Moses led the people through the wilderness—a place of testing, manna, and murmuring (Exodus 16:4). Jesus too entered the wilderness, not to murmur but to conquer (Matthew 4:1). Where Israel failed, He prevailed. He fed the multitudes with bread, showing that He was the true manna that came down from heaven (John 6:35). Moses struck the rock and water flowed. Jesus was struck at Calvary and living water flowed from His side (John 19:34; 1 Corinthians 10:4).

Every miracle of Moses was a signpost pointing toward Christ. The serpent lifted on a pole in the desert (Numbers 21:9) found its fulfillment when Jesus said, “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up” (John 3:14). Moses lifted a symbol. Jesus lifted salvation.

The Glory and the Face

When Moses asked to see God’s glory, the Lord said, “You cannot see My face, for no man shall see Me and live” (Exodus 33:20). Yet in Jesus, that glory became visible. The invisible became flesh. He is “the brightness of God’s glory and the express image of His person” (Hebrews 1:3). To look at Jesus is to see what Moses longed for but could only glimpse.

Imagine standing before a sunrise after a long night. That’s what Israel experienced when Jesus came. The Law was like the moon—bright, yet borrowed light. Grace and truth came like the dawn. The shadows fled, and the full day appeared.

The Death and the Promise

Moses died within sight of the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 34:5). He could see it, but he could not enter. The Law could bring you to the border of salvation, but it could not take you across. Only Jesus could lead us in. Moses was buried in a hidden grave. Jesus rose from an open one. Moses’ tomb was guarded by God. Jesus’ tomb was opened by God (Matthew 28:2).

Even in his death, Moses pointed to another. On the Mount of Transfiguration, Moses appeared beside Elijah, speaking with Jesus about the “exodus” He would accomplish at Jerusalem (Luke 9:31). The old prophet who once led slaves out of Egypt now stood beside the Savior who would lead souls out of death. The shadow met the substance, and all heaven sang.

The Prophet and the Heart

The people once said, “Never again has there arisen in Israel a prophet like Moses” (Deuteronomy 34:10). They were right—until Bethlehem. The baby laid in a manger was the Prophet like Moses, yet infinitely more. He was not merely a messenger of God’s Word; He was God’s Word made flesh. He was the new Moses who would lead a new exodus.

If Moses’ rod could split the sea, how much more can Christ’s cross split the chains of sin? If manna could sustain a nation, how much more can His Spirit sustain the soul? If Moses could turn aside from a burning bush, how much more should we turn aside from every lesser thing to look upon the blazing beauty of Christ?

The Lesson and the Life

So what does it mean for us, here and now? It means we must live as people of the greater covenant, not clinging to the fading glory of Sinai but walking in the radiant grace of Calvary. To be a follower of Jesus is to be a disciple of the Prophet like Moses—one who still speaks, still leads, and still brings water from the rock of His own mercy.

When the road feels like wilderness, remember the manna. When the sea stands before you, remember the staff. When the mountain seems too high, remember the fire that never consumes. The same God who led Moses by cloud and fire now leads you by His Spirit. The same Christ who fulfilled every shadow of the Law now walks beside you as your daily companion.

And one day, like Moses, we too will climb our mountain. We’ll see the Promised Land not from afar, but face to face. Only then will we fully understand how every wilderness, every Red Sea, every burning bush was leading us to one place—to Jesus, the Prophet like Moses, the Deliverer who never fails.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

THE CENTRALITY OF LOVE

The Centrality of Love (1 Corinthians 13:1–3)

Paul begins this chapter like a holy roar of thunder. Before he paints the beauty of love, he exposes the emptiness of religion without it. His words strip away every appearance of greatness until only the heart remains. Love, he says, is not one virtue among many. It is the lifeblood of them all. Without love, everything else—speech, faith, knowledge, sacrifice—turns hollow.

“Even if I could speak every human language, and even the language of angels, if love isn’t in it, my words are just noise—like a clanging cymbal with no song in it” (v. 1).

That image stays with you. A cymbal that crashes, but never carries a tune. Noise that fills the air but never touches the heart. It is possible to speak beautifully and still sound empty in heaven’s ears. Without love, even the most powerful message becomes nothing but echo.

The early church knew what it meant to speak with tongues—a gift given for a time to confirm the gospel as it broke into new lands. But even then, Paul warned: gifts fade, signs cease, languages stop. The proof of God’s power was never in sound but in love. And now, though those temporary gifts have fulfilled their purpose, the greater gift remains. Love still speaks every language.

Words without love are sound without soul. The Spirit reminds us, “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34). If love doesn’t live in the heart, truth turns harsh. The voice may speak Scripture, but without love, it cannot reveal Christ.

Paul then moves from speech to sight.

“Even if I could see what others can’t, understand every mystery, and know everything there is to know—even if I had the kind of faith that could move mountains—but don’t have love, I am nothing” (v. 2).

There’s a difference between having gifts and having grace. You can understand the Word of God yet miss the heart of God. You can know doctrine and still lack devotion. Knowledge makes a man look tall, but love makes him real.

Faith that moves mountains may still leave the heart unmoved. The miracles of the early days confirmed the Word, but now the completed Word confirms itself. What we need now is not more signs, but more love. True faith doesn’t need fireworks. It needs faithfulness.

“Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (1 Corinthians 8:1). It’s possible to be brilliant in truth and barren in tenderness. The mind can be sharp, and the heart still cold. But love warms both.

Then Paul brings it closer. “Even if I gave everything I owned to feed the hungry, and even gave my body up to be burned alive—if love isn’t the reason behind it, it counts for nothing” (v. 3).

Here he confronts every false motive that hides behind good deeds. You can give generously and still not give yourself. You can look holy but live hollow.

Think of the widow in the temple. She had almost nothing, yet gave everything. Just two coins, but her heart was in both. Heaven watched her hand and smiled (Mark 12:41–44).

Now think of Ananias and Sapphira. They gave much but lied in the giving. They didn’t die for what they kept. They died because their hearts were not in what they gave. Their gift was covered in pretense, not love (Acts 5:1–11).

Love is what makes a small gift great. Love turns sacrifice into song. Love makes the least look like the most in God’s eyes.

Without love, even the most impressive work is nothing more than smoke without fire.

The truth hits deep. The measure of a man is not found in his gifts or knowledge or even his service. It is found in his love. Without it, ministry becomes machinery. Duty becomes drudgery. Truth becomes noise.

Love is not an emotion we stir up. It is a life that flows down, from Christ through His Spirit to us. “The love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit” (Romans 5:5). It is not something we achieve. It is something we receive.

When we love, the world sees Christ. “By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). The power of the early church wasn’t in its miracles but in its mercy. And the proof of the Spirit’s presence today isn’t in tongues or signs but in love that never fails.

So before we seek to preach or to know or to do, we must first seek to love. All gifts fade. All signs cease. All knowledge passes. But love—love remains.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

CHRIST THE ARK OF SAFETY

The days of the flood are coming again. The Lord said that as it was in the days of Noah, so it will be in the days when the Son of Man returns (Luke 17:26). In those days, every imagination of mankind’s heart was continually evil (Genesis 6:5). We are watching that same darkness rise once more—people loving pleasure more than God, truth being traded for lies, and pride drowning out the voice of repentance. Of course, the world has, since the garden, always been a wicked place. But any reasonable assessment would have to say that it is not getting better, it is getting worse. But just as surely as the storm came in the days of Noah, the grace of God still calls His people to safety.

Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord (Genesis 6:8). That same grace is calling us now—not to a wooden ark, but to the living Christ. The world laughed at Noah, but he built anyway. He obeyed exactly as God commanded (Genesis 6:22). Every hammer strike was an act of faith. Every board was a sermon. And when the rains came, it was obedience that kept him afloat.

In the same way, the Father sent His Son to prepare a refuge for us. Christ came into the world to receive sinners, and just as Noah finished the ark, Jesus finished the work the Father gave Him to do (John 17:4). He lived the life we could not live, and He died the death we deserved. He became the doorway, the covering, the safety of all who enter in by faith.

When the storms of judgment begin to break, only those who are in Christ will stand secure. He is our ark. He is the refuge God Himself has provided. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe” (Proverbs 18:10). The floodwaters of sin and sorrow will rise, but they cannot drown the soul that is hidden in Jesus.

Just as Noah was shut in by God’s own hand (Genesis 7:16), so are we sealed in Christ by the Spirit until the day of redemption (Ephesians 1:13). Nothing can remove the love of God from our hearts. “Neither death nor life, nor angels nor powers, nor anything in all creation, can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38–39).

So come into the ark while there is still time. The door is open now, but one day it will close. The day of reckoning is drawing near, but the Lord still calls, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

The rainbow after the storm was a promise of mercy, and the return of Christ will be the fulfillment of that promise. The earth will once again be soaked—not just with judgment, but with His glory. “The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Habakkuk 2:14).

Until that day, let us walk with God as Noah did. Let us build our lives in obedience and faith, knowing that Christ is our Hope, our Refuge, our Ark of Safety.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

LOVING JESUS

We are to love Jesus Christ. How could we not? He loved us first. “We love Him because He loved us first” (1 John 4:19).

Nothing motivates like the love of Jesus Christ. Nothing can change your world like Jesus. When you realize that He is reaching His hand out to you so that you will take hold and let Him guide you and love you, your life will never be the same.

The love of Christ compels us to do things a certain way. “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that all died, because He died for all. And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for Him who died for them and was raised to life again” (2 Cor. 5:14-15).

He died for us so that we would live for Him. That is the only fitting response to what Jesus has done for us—to present our bodies to Him as living sacrifices in view of how merciful He has been (Rom. 12:1). The only fitting response to the love of Jesus is to live for Him.

By focusing on how much Christ loves you, you will love Christ back. That is the way to grow in our love for Him. The wonderful love of Jesus needs to occupy your mind. You need to meditate on it and think about what it means. Think about how He knows you by name. You existed in His mind before He created you. He knows all about you and loves you. No one will ever love you like Jesus. Don’t ever forget that.

Sometimes we ask, how can I love God more? And the answer is to stop focusing on your love for God and focus on God’s love for you. By being reminded of how much God loves you, you will love God. And your love will grow.

The love of God causes things to change in our minds and in our hearts. Love for God leads us to do things that we would never have done before. To do good and to do right.

And loving Jesus is the key to loving others. Realizing how much you are loved by Christ will make your love for Him grow, and it will also make your love for other people grow.

Knowing how much people mean to Jesus will cause them to mean more to you. We are human, we are in the flesh. We have problems. And we don’t always love the way we should. We don’t always think the way we should. But we can change. The love of Christ can change us. All things can be new in Him (2 Cor. 5:17).

“In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:10-11).

The death of Christ proves His love for us. He thought enough of you to die for your sins. He thought enough of you to go to the Cross so that you could go to heaven and spend eternity with Him. Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to Him.

When you wonder whether or not God loves you, think about the Cross. When you wonder whether or not God really cares about this world and the people in it, think about the Cross. It is the death of Christ that proves His love. And since He loves us so much, we should turn around and love others in His name.

Embrace the love of God and be excited that God loves you. Because He does. He always has and He always will.

   Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF THE LORD

Listen to the voice of the Lord. Not the noise of the world, not the endless chatter of opinions and fears, but that still, steady voice that calls your name in the quiet of the soul. There is a voice that does not shout, yet it commands all creation. It does not argue, yet it silences every doubt. When He speaks, the restless heart finds rest. “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27).

Walk as a man or woman of God. The world may stumble in darkness, but you were made to walk in light. Stand tall in the forest of confusion, among the trees of wickedness that grow thick around us. The way may seem narrow, but the Lord walks beside you. When others bow to fear, you keep your eyes lifted to heaven, for “the steps of a righteous man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way” (Psalm 37:23).

Even the hardest heart knows there is a God. Though people deny Him with their words, deep inside they cannot escape the truth He wrote into their being. “God has set eternity in their hearts” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). There is no true atheist in the soul—only those who have tried to drown out the sound of His presence. Yet, even there, His mercy calls to them. “The fool says in his heart, there is no God,” but the Lord looks from heaven on all the children of men, searching for those who will seek His face (Psalm 14:1–2).

We walk with Him because He holds our hand. When we stumble, He steadies us. When we fall, He lifts us up. When we are weary, His strength becomes ours. “I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear, I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13). Life looks different when you walk with God. You begin to see through the eyes of grace. What once seemed meaningless begins to glow with eternal purpose. From the sky above to the sea below, from the mountain peaks to the blades of grass beneath your feet, His fingerprints are everywhere. “Since the creation of the world, His invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—are clearly seen” (Romans 1:20).

Never again must you feel alone when you have embraced the love of God revealed in Christ Jesus. The world may forsake you. People may turn away. But His love does not leave, and His Spirit does not depart. “I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels nor demons, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38–39). When His love fills you, loneliness loses its voice. You begin to realize you were never walking alone—He has been beside you through every shadow and storm.

We are called into the covenant of grace, to stand in the very center of it. This covenant was not sealed with our words but with His blood. God Himself passed through the sacrifice, promising to be faithful to His people forever (Genesis 15:17). The covenant of Christ is not written on tablets of stone but on hearts made tender by mercy. “This is the covenant I will make with them, says the Lord: I will put My laws into their hearts, and write them upon their minds” (Hebrews 10:16). When you belong to Him, your soul becomes the dwelling place of His Spirit.

Listen for the gentle whisper of Jesus. He does not force Himself upon you; He comes in quiet power. His voice is the breeze that moves through the trees, the soft nudge that says, “This is the way, walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). When Elijah hid in the cave, God did not speak in the earthquake or the fire, but in a still small voice (1 Kings 19:12). That same voice still speaks today. It’s not found in the roar of religion but in the hush of surrender. It is the breath of His Spirit moving within you (John 20:22).

And when that voice calls you to obedience, don’t delay. Nothing shows that we belong to Christ more than knowing His will and walking in it daily (John 14:15). To follow Him is to live in joyful surrender—where our will bows to His, and our ways begin to mirror His heart. “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24).

Every command of God is rooted in love. Every boundary He sets is meant to protect your joy. To obey Him is not to lose your freedom—it is to find it. “Choose life, that you may live; love the Lord your God, obey His voice, and hold fast to Him, for He is your life” (Deuteronomy 30:19–20).

To live this way is to live differently. It is to walk with a quiet confidence that heaven is your home and the Spirit of the living God dwells within you. It is to be unshaken in a shaking world, to walk upright when others bow to fear, to love when others hate, and to shine light where others curse the darkness.

So, listen to His voice today. Let it calm your fears and steady your steps. Let it remind you who you are and whose you are. You are not forgotten. You are not forsaken. You are His—and He still speaks.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

PRAY EVERY DAY

Paul wrote in 1 Thessalonians 5:17 that we are to “pray without ceasing.” That short verse holds more power than most believers ever realize. It is not just a suggestion—it’s a divine command. And since Paul was writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, that means this command didn’t originate with him. Prayer was God’s idea from the very beginning. When you and I bow our heads, whisper His name, or even sigh in His presence, we are responding to His invitation to commune with Him.

There are days when prayer feels natural and easy—when your heart is full and your words seem to flow like a river. But there are other days when prayer feels heavy, when you wonder if God is even listening. In those moments, remember this truth: the same God who told you to pray is the God who promised to hear. He is not ignoring you. He is not tired of your voice. He told you to pray because He longs for fellowship with you. The command to pray is proof of His desire to listen.

In Philippians 4:6–7, Paul gives us another window into the heart of God. He writes, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God.” Then he adds, “And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Notice the contrast—anxiety or prayer. Those are your two options. When the heart is weighed down, when the mind is spinning, when life feels unstable, the believer is not left without direction. God says, Don’t carry it—pray it.

There is always something to worry about in this fallen world. That is why we must always have something to pray about. If your life feels anxious, overwhelmed, or uncertain, that is simply your invitation to step back into prayer. Worry is the world’s reflex; prayer is the Christian’s response. Every concern you have is an opportunity to turn your attention heavenward and say, “Father, You know. Father, You see. Father, I trust You.”

Maintaining a constant state of communion with God is vital to the Christian life. The Bible feeds your mind with truth, but prayer keeps your heart alive to God’s presence. You can’t grow spiritually without the Word, and you can’t stay strong without prayer. They are like two wings on the same bird—both necessary if you want to soar. You can study every doctrine, know every verse, and still wither spiritually if you neglect the quiet practice of daily prayer.

The most important thing you can do as a Christian every single day is pray. Before you step into your work, your ministry, or your plans, make sure you have stepped first into the secret place of communion with your Heavenly Father. You cannot do God’s work in your own strength. You cannot represent Him well if you have not first rested in His presence. It is in prayer that you receive wisdom for the day, courage for the task, and peace for the storm.

Sometimes prayer looks like deep intercession, where you pour out your heart with tears. Sometimes it looks like silent meditation—just sitting before the Lord, thinking about His goodness and letting His presence quiet your soul. Sometimes it’s just whispering His name in the middle of the day when life gets noisy. All of it counts. All of it matters. Prayer is not about performance—it’s about presence. It’s about walking with God moment by moment.

So, before you try to do something for God, make sure you have been with God. Before you plan, preach, serve, or lead, spend time simply loving Him, listening to Him, and resting in His care. That is the secret of spiritual strength. Prayer is not the least you can do—it is the most powerful thing you can do.

The strength of your Christian life will never rise higher than your prayer life. The power of your ministry will never go deeper than your time alone with God. The peace you long for is not found in solving every problem—it’s found in surrendering every problem through prayer.

So, my friend, pray every day. Pray when the sun rises and when it sets. Pray when your heart is full and when it’s breaking. Pray when you feel strong and when you can barely stand. The Lord is listening. The Lord is near. And the more you pray, the more you’ll find that He was there all along—waiting, ready, and eager to meet with you.

Pray without ceasing.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

MARRIAGE, DIVORCE AND REMARRIAGE (3): PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS

“SINCERE, BUT MISTAKEN”

There are many who love peace and shy away from conflict. They would rather be seen as kind, gentle, and tolerant than risk being misunderstood. Some look at those who hold very rigid or hurtful views and say, “Well, at least they’re sincere. They mean well. They just want to obey God.”

I understand that heart. I do. Many of these people are not trying to be cruel. They honestly believe they are standing for truth. But sincerity alone does not make something right. A person can be deeply sincere and still be deeply mistaken.

When Paul persecuted the early church, he did it with passion. He said later, “I truly thought I was serving God” (Acts 26:9). But it took a bright light and the voice of Jesus to show him how wrong he was. In the same way, there are those today who cling to tradition so tightly that they mistake it for truth.

Many of these teachings about marriage and divorce were not born from Scripture but from systems and traditions passed down through men. The Lord said, “You make the Word of God of no effect through your traditions” (Mark 7:13). These beliefs may sound righteous, but they often crush hearts instead of healing them.

It’s easy to hold to hard doctrines when you’ve never had to live through the pain of what others face. But once it touches your own life, once you see the tears of someone you love, your heart softens and your eyes open. That’s when the Spirit begins to whisper, “Now look again. Look at My Word with mercy.”

The problem with legalism is that it teaches rules without relationship. It binds people with guilt but offers no path to grace. It leaves no room for healing, only judgment. That’s not the gospel of Jesus Christ. He said, “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). The legalist says, “Do more.” Jesus says, “Come closer.”

We must never forget that truth and love are not enemies. They walk hand in hand. The moment truth becomes cold, it ceases to reflect the heart of Christ. The moment love forgets truth, it loses its power to save.

So yes, some are sincere. But they are sincerely mistaken. They mean to defend God, but end up misrepresenting His heart. The answer is not anger or argument, but light — the light of Scripture and the gentle leading of the Spirit who still says, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13).

NOT “FOR” DIVORCE

Before we go any further, let me say this plainly: I am not for divorce. I am not writing to defend it, justify it, or make light of it. I’ve walked that road myself. I know the pain it brings, the loss it carries, and the deep ache it leaves behind.

Divorce is not the heart of God. It is a wound that opens when something beautiful has been broken. In most cases, I would not recommend it. But I also know there are times when it becomes the only path toward peace and safety—when staying would mean the destruction of the soul.

Some situations may be eased by divorce, but that never means all is well. It simply means something went terribly wrong. Someone, somewhere, stepped outside of God’s design—maybe through neglect, betrayal, or hardness of heart. Yet even then, grace still speaks. Grace always has the last word.

Not every divorce is born of sin, and not every marriage that endures is holy. Legalism cannot understand that, because it only knows how to count rules. It says that once a couple is joined, they must never part, no matter the cost. So people stay—trapped in bitterness, fear, or abuse—because they’ve been told that leaving would damn their soul.

This is not the heart of God. Jesus came to heal the brokenhearted, not chain them to misery (Luke 4:18). He came to set captives free, not keep them bound to what destroys them. When law speaks without love, it becomes cruelty.

Yet I have also seen the beauty of lifelong love—husbands and wives who have weathered storms together, who have forgiven much and loved deeply. Their marriage shines with the faithfulness of Christ Himself. That kind of union is a gift, a light to the world, and worthy of every honor.

But it is not the only story that glorifies God. Some of the greatest testimonies come from those who have walked through failure and found redemption on the other side. They know firsthand the power of mercy.

No one should ever be made to feel like a second-class Christian because of a broken marriage. The cross of Christ stands as proof that no past disqualifies a soul that has been redeemed. God’s callings are not canceled by human mistakes (Romans 11:29).

So I will keep preaching, teaching, serving, and loving as long as the Lord gives me breath. And I will keep saying this: grace is stronger than failure. Truth and mercy still meet at the foot of the cross.

If your heart has been broken, if you’ve walked through the pain of divorce, know this — you are not forgotten. You are not finished. The same Lord who turned Peter’s denial into courage and David’s fall into worship can turn your ashes into beauty again (Isaiah 61:3).

What man calls ruined, God can still redeem.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

JESUS OUR SHEPHERD

There is no picture dearer to the believer’s heart than that of Jesus as our Shepherd. The Bible says that He calls His sheep by name and leads them out, and they follow because they know His voice (John 10:3-4). This is no distant ruler or careless guardian. This is a Shepherd whose hands still bear the marks of love. When He said, “I am the good Shepherd. The good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep,” He was telling us that His rule is not of iron but of grace, and His crown is love itself (John 10:11).

What a Shepherd He is! The flock may wander, yet His eyes never lose sight of even one trembling lamb. He does not drive with harshness but leads with gentleness. He knows every hill and hollow of our hearts, every thorn that wounds us, every fear that makes us tremble. There is a tenderness in His care that quiets the soul. When we stumble, His rod corrects us, not to break, but to bring us home. When danger draws near, His staff stretches out, strong and sure, to pull us from the edge of ruin.

“The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters” (Ps. 23:1-2). What pasture could be greener than His presence? What waters could be stiller than His peace? When life’s noise grows loud and its path uncertain, the Good Shepherd speaks a word, and the heart grows calm. The soul that follows Him finds rest, not only from sin, but from the striving that exhausts so many.

Even when the shadows lengthen and death’s valley stretches before us, He remains near. The Bible says His rod and His staff comfort us (Ps. 23:4). There is no darkness where His light cannot shine and no valley so deep that His voice cannot reach. The Shepherd walks before us into every storm. We do not face the night alone.

Yet this Shepherd does more than guard. He gathers. The Bible says that He has other sheep not of this fold, and that He will bring them also, so there will be one flock and one Shepherd (John 10:16). His love stretches across all boundaries, calling every heart that will hear. He gathers the scattered and the wounded, the forgotten and the fearful. Isaiah spoke of Him long ago, saying, “He tends His flock like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart” (Isa. 40:11). What a picture of the Savior’s heart — strong enough to hold the world, gentle enough to cradle the weakest child of grace.

Every soul He calls finds its true home in union with Him. The Bible says we are members of His body, of His flesh and of His bones (Eph. 5:30). The Shepherd does not merely guide from afar. He lives within His people by His Spirit. His life becomes their life, His peace their peace, His joy their strength. To live in union with Christ is to walk the fields of divine fellowship where the soul drinks daily from the living fountains of His grace.

And what safety there is in His keeping! The Bible says no one can snatch His sheep from His hand (John 10:28). The enemy may roar, but he cannot break the Shepherd’s grip. The storms may rage, but the flock remains safe beneath the shadow of His care. Every promise of God stands as a fence around those He loves.

Look to the end of all things, and you will still find Him Shepherding. Revelation gives us this vision: “The Lamb at the center of the throne will be their Shepherd. He will lead them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Rev. 7:17). The Shepherd who once led through green pastures will then lead through golden streets. The hand that once reached into our valleys will wipe the last tear from our eyes.

What joy to know that from the first step of faith to the final gate of glory, Jesus is the same faithful Shepherd. He leads, He feeds, He keeps. The Bible says that goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our life, and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever (Ps. 23:6).

Let the heart rest in that love today. Follow His voice in trust. Lean upon His care in peace. For the Shepherd who gave His life for His sheep still walks among us, guiding every step, guarding every soul, and gathering His flock into the fold of everlasting joy.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

CHRIST OUR TRUTH

Truth is the lifeblood of the soul that walks with God. The Bible says that from the very beginning the serpent deceived mankind through lies, and from that dark hour until now, the enemy of our souls has never ceased whispering falsehoods. He has filled the air with shadows and half-truths that look bright for a moment but end in despair. His words sound sweet to the ear, yet they poison the heart. The Bible says he was a liar from the beginning, and there is no truth in him. When he speaks, he speaks his native language of deception, for he is the father of lies (Jn. 8:44).

How terrible that the whole world lies under his power, tangled in a web of lies so subtle that men often call them truth. He deceives the nations, blinds the eyes of the unbelieving, and leads souls away from the simplicity that is in Christ. He will dress a lie in religious garments, mix it with fragments of Scripture, and make it sound holy to those who do not know the Shepherd’s voice. The Word of God warns that even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light (2 Cor. 11:14).

Yet how bright the contrast stands when Christ enters the scene. The Lord Jesus did not merely come to teach truth. He came to be the truth. He said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (Jn. 14:6). Truth, therefore, is not a theory but a Person. It is not a doctrine floating in the clouds, but a Man nailed to a cross and risen in power. When the Bible says, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free,” it means that knowing Christ—not merely hearing of Him, but embracing Him with living faith—brings liberty from the chains of sin (Jn. 8:32).

The truth is not cold logic, it is living fire. It burns away the lies that bind us. It pierces the darkness that hides in the corners of our hearts. It breaks the locks of the prison house and calls the captive into the sunlight of grace. The Bible says that whoever commits sin is a servant of sin, but if the Son makes you free, you are free indeed (Jn. 8:34–36). What glorious freedom this is! Freedom not merely to do as we please, but to please Him who died for us.

The devil’s lies tell us that sin is sweet, that disobedience brings pleasure, and that God’s commands are heavy. But truth tells us that holiness is happiness, that obedience is liberty, and that love is the fulfilling of all things. The truth shows us that the cross is not a chain but a key. It opens the prison of self and sets the heart free to love God.

Christ is the eternal Truth of God made flesh. His words are the Father’s revelation. His life is the living interpretation of the will of Heaven. He came not to argue but to reveal, not to confuse but to cleanse. He is the unclouded mirror of divine holiness, and in Him we see the beauty of God’s heart. When the world says, “There is no truth,” the Christian can answer, “There is Christ.”

Oh, dear brethren, the Bible says that God cannot lie (Titus 1:2). His promises stand like mountains that cannot be moved. Every word He has spoken is “yes” and “amen” in His Son (2 Cor. 1:20). His truth is not fragile like man’s philosophy. It is not swayed by time or tide. It is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Heb. 13:8). When the devil says you are forsaken, the truth says you are chosen. When your heart says you are condemned, the truth says there is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1).

The Word of God tells us to fasten ourselves with the belt of truth (Eph. 6:14). A soldier without his belt is unprepared, unsteady, and exposed. So the Christian without truth is weak before temptation. The belt holds all the armor together. Truth binds the heart in loyalty to God. Without it, faith becomes imagination, love becomes emotion, and worship becomes noise. But with truth fastened about the soul, every step is steady, every prayer is strong, every battle is winnable.

To love the truth is to love Christ. To reject the truth is to reject Him. The Bible says that those who perish do so because they did not receive the love of the truth that they might be saved (2 Thes. 2:10). Love for truth is not mere agreement with facts. It is a heart devotion to the One who is truth Himself. It is the yearning of the soul that says, “Lord, let me walk in Your light, even if it exposes my darkness. Let me know Your truth, even if it breaks my pride.”

When a man clings to Christ, he clings to truth. When he walks away from Christ, he walks into delusion. The Bible says that men who reject God are given over to strong delusion, to believe a lie (2 Thes. 2:11). The devil will give them religion without repentance, worship without holiness, and faith without fruit. But the truth exposes all that glitters falsely. The truth teaches us that we are saved by grace through faith, and that faith must be living, working, and loving.

To know truth is to live in light. To live in light is to walk with God. The Bible says that if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin (1 Jn. 1:7). This light is not harsh or condemning. It is warm and healing. It fills the soul with peace. It gives rest to the weary conscience and comfort to the trembling heart.

When the Word of God tells us that His gospel is His power unto salvation for all who believe (Rom. 1:16), it reminds us that truth is not powerless ink on ancient parchment. It is living power breathed by the Spirit. It has the strength to shatter chains, the authority to drive out fear, and the grace to build a life on unshakable hope.

The fellowship of the redeemed rests on this truth. It is not built upon the wisdom of men but upon the revelation of God. The church is the pillar and ground of the truth (1 Tim. 3:15). When we gather to worship, we are not merely singing songs or reciting creeds. We are standing as witnesses in a deceived world, declaring that God is true and every man a liar. The redeemed stand on solid rock, while the world builds on shifting sand.

O that we would prize the truth as a treasure beyond all gold. Truth is the armor of the mind, the fortress of faith, the melody of worship, and the foundation of love. When the lies of the enemy come against you—when he tells you that you are too broken, too sinful, too far gone—remember Jesus says, “Whoever comes to Me, I will never cast out” (Jn. 6:37). That is the voice of truth speaking life over death.

Cling to truth as a drowning man clings to the hand of his rescuer. Bind it upon your heart. Let it shape your thoughts, your words, your choices. The just shall live by faith (Hab. 2:4). Faith in what? Faith in the truth of God’s Word, faith in the finished work of Christ, faith in the promise that cannot fail.

To live by truth is to live in victory. This is the victory that overcomes the world, even our faith (1 Jn. 5:4). The world conquers by deceit, but faith conquers by truth. The child of God overcomes because he believes what God has spoken. He refuses to bow to the whispers of the enemy. He walks in light though surrounded by darkness. He believes that God’s Word is truer than his feelings and stronger than his fears.

So, beloved, let us love the truth, live the truth, and speak the truth. Let our homes be filled with it. Let our hearts be guided by it. Let our prayers be shaped through it. For the Bible says, “Your word is truth” (Jn. 17:17). And Christ is that Word made flesh.

The one who abides in Him will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life (Jn. 8:12). Let that light shine through us until every shadow of deceit is gone, until every chain of sin is broken, and until we stand in the glorious liberty of the children of God.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

CALVINISM: “PERSEVERANCE OF THE SAINTS”

We come now to the final flower of Calvinism’s celebrated TULIP — that doctrine known as The Perseverance of the Saints—or, as it is commonly known, “Once Saved, Always Saved.”

I do not take up this matter to win an argument or to triumph over brethren, but to plead for the simplicity that is in Christ. Many precious souls have been led astray by a teaching that cloaks itself in the robe of grace, yet quietly removes from the believer the very responsibility that grace empowers. My heart yearns not to conquer my Calvinist brothers and sisters but to call them back to the tender voice of the Shepherd who said, “Abide in Me.”

I love my Calvinist brethren. Their zeal for the glory of God and their reverence for divine sovereignty are not to be despised. But oh, how I wish they would cease teaching this system that so often hides the living Christ behind the walls of a theory. The Bible says that the truth makes men free, not fatalistic (John 8:32).

They tell us that if God chooses and regenerates a soul, then that soul can never finally fall away. They quote the words of the apostle, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6), as if that one verse settled all questions. But my beloved friend, the Word of God never permits us to rest one promise upon the ruins of a thousand warnings.

Paul’s blessed assurance in Philippians was not a guarantee to the careless. It was a promise to those who were laboring side by side in the gospel, striving together in the faith, and standing firm under persecution (Phil. 1:27–30). The same letter that tells us God will finish His work also tells us to “work out our own salvation with fear and trembling” because it is God who works in us to will and to do His good pleasure (Phil. 2:12–13). The promise and the command are woven together like threads of gold and scarlet — grace and obedience in holy harmony. What would be the need for Paul to speak of “fear and trembling” to believers if Calvinism was true?

The Word of God says that He preserves the way of the righteous and upholds the soul that trusts and repents, yet it also warns that unbelief can harden the heart until it departs from the living God (Heb. 3:12–14). The same Lord who promises to keep us calls us to watch and pray lest we enter into temptation (Matt. 26:41). The keeping of God is not a mechanical lock upon the heart but the living touch of grace upon a heart that abides in Him.

If the promises of perseverance were unconditional in the way Calvinism teaches, then the Bible’s warnings would be little more than divine dramatics—stern words without substance. But the Holy Spirit does not play with human souls. When He warns, He means it. The Bible says, “If we endure, we shall also reign with Him. If we deny Him, He also will deny us” (2 Tim 2:12). Choices matter. Faith matters. The keeping of God is real, but it never abolishes the call to abide.

How gracious and solemn these words become when we remember the tragedy of those who once walked with Christ and later turned back. Judas kissed the very face of grace and went into the night. Demas loved the present world and forsook his calling (2 Tim. 4:10). The Galatians began in the Spirit and were in danger of falling from grace (Gal. 5:4). These examples are written not to torment us but to keep us sober and watchful.

O beloved, the Bible never teaches that salvation is a cold decree that cannot be undone, but a living union that must be cherished. Christ is not a contract but a covenant. He is not a doctrine to be signed but a life to be lived. The believer’s safety is not in a theory of perseverance but in the Person of Jesus Christ Himself.

When Paul writes that God will complete the work He began, he is not describing a machinery of grace that runs without the heart of man. He is describing a Father who disciplines, a Shepherd who leads, and a Savior who intercedes. The same hand that began the good work holds the rod that corrects and the staff that guides. Those who walk humbly beneath His care will find His promise faithful and true. But those who turn from His voice will find that even divine calling does not overrule the freedom of a hardened heart.

The Word of God says, “We have become partakers of Christ if we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast to the end” (Heb. 3:14). The little word “if” stands like a watchman at the gate of grace, reminding every believer that abiding faith is the pathway of perseverance. Grace does not excuse neglect. It empowers endurance.

There is a holy balance here that Calvinism has lost. God’s promise to keep us is certain, but His keeping is found in the pathway of faith and obedience. When the soul strays, the Shepherd calls. When the heart resists, the Spirit grieves. When the will repents, mercy restores. The Bible says His mercies are new every morning and His compassions fail not (Lam. 3:22–23). But it also says, “Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Cor. 10:12).

Thus we see that perseverance is not a cold decree but a living relationship. The child of God is secure while he abides in the Father’s house, but if he wanders into the far country, famine awaits him. Yet even there the Father waits, watching the horizon for repentance.

The Calvinist tells us that if a man has been born again, his nature is changed so completely that it is impossible for him ever to fall away. “Once a child, always a child,” they say. “If regeneration is real, then falling from grace is unthinkable.” They often point to where the Bible says that those who believe have been born of God and made His children, not by the will of man but by the power of God (John 1:12–13).

We thank God for the reality of new birth. To be born again is no shallow change of behavior but the work of divine life within. It is the heart made new, the mind renewed, and the soul quickened from death unto life. The believer passes from darkness to light, from bondage to liberty, from self to Christ. This is a work so holy that only the Spirit of God can perform it.

Yet, my friend, the Bible never presents regeneration as a charm that removes human responsibility. The Word of God says that some who were enlightened and tasted the heavenly gift later turned away and fell into ruin (Heb. 6:4–6). Others, once full of joy at the word, fell away when persecution arose or when worldly cares choked the seed (Luke 8:13–14). These are not poetic fictions. They are solemn realities recorded to awaken fear and dependence upon grace.

We dare not build a theology that denies the plain witness of these warnings. The heart can be touched by grace, stirred by the Spirit, and yet later harden itself in pride. The rain may fall upon the soil, but if the soil is neglected it produces thorns instead of fruit. The Bible says, “Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit is taken away” (John 15:2).

Some will say, “Those who fall away were never truly regenerated.” Yet the writer to the Hebrews describes them as having tasted of the heavenly gift and shared in the Holy Spirit. Such language cannot be dismissed lightly. Experience and history confirm it. There are men who once burned bright in zeal, who once testified with power, who now walk no more with Christ. Were these men deceived in every spiritual experience they ever had? Or did they neglect the flame of life until it was quenched?

John writes that some who walked among the believers later went out from them and by their departure revealed that they had not continued in the fellowship of truth (1 John 2:19). Yet notice the pastoral heart in his words. He does not use this fact to excuse coldness or to defend a theory. He writes to warn, to stir vigilance, and to remind the saints that the mark of true life is ongoing faith and love. The Word of God says, “Whoever abides in Him does not continue in sin” (1 John 3:6).

The lesson is clear. A new nature must be nourished. A fire must be tended. A branch must remain in the vine. To say that regeneration makes falling impossible is to contradict the very purpose of regeneration, which is to produce living communion. The new heart must be guarded with all diligence. The Spirit-filled life must be cultivated with prayer and obedience. The Bible says, “Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life” (Jude 21).

Healing can be neglected. A new life can be smothered. The seed of divine grace can be choked by worldly cares. These are not failures of God’s power but tragedies of human refusal. The Bible never teaches that grace is irresistible. It teaches that grace is precious and must be received and obeyed.

The Lord Jesus said that many are called but few are chosen (Matt. 22:14). His call is gracious, His drawing is powerful, but His invitation must be answered in faith. The Bible says, “If you continue in My word, then you are truly My disciples” (John 8:31). The call of God awakens the heart, but the response of faith keeps the heart alive. The Spirit’s drawing is real, but so too is the possibility of resisting Him. Stephen rebuked those who resisted the Holy Spirit, proving that grace can indeed be refused (Acts 7:51).

How blessed it is to know that God’s power is not mechanical but relational. He does not drag men into heaven against their will. He invites them by love and truth. The Word of God says that He works in us both to will and to do His good pleasure (Phil. 2:13). He enables us, not replaces us. Grace does not cancel obedience—it makes obedience possible.

The apostles speak not of passive preservation but of active perseverance. They urge believers to pursue holiness without which no one shall see the Lord (Heb. 12:14). They call us to lay aside every weight and run with endurance the race set before us (Heb. 12:1). They warn us to guard against drifting away (Heb. 2:1). Such language has no place in a system that turns perseverance into inevitability.

O how this truth humbles the soul. God’s keeping is certain, yet it is a keeping of the humble, the dependent, the watchful. The proud man who presumes upon grace invites chastisement. The believer who clings to Christ with daily repentance and prayer will find himself upheld by divine strength. The Bible says, “Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength” (Isa. 40:31).

Regeneration is a beginning, not an ending. The new birth is the opening of the door, not the finishing of the journey. The Spirit gives life, but we must walk in the Spirit, sow to the Spirit, and bear the fruit of the Spirit. “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit” (Gal 5:25).

If grace were truly irresistible and perseverance inevitable, then exhortations, tears, warnings, and prayers would all be vain. Why would Paul weep over the Galatians? Why would he fear that after preaching to others he himself might be disqualified (1 Cor. 9:27)? Why would the Lord warn His disciples to watch and pray? The presence of these warnings shows that perseverance, though promised, is also a holy duty.

God’s grace is mighty enough to keep the weakest believer, yet that grace calls for response. It is not the iron chain of a decree but the golden cord of love drawing the soul onward. As we abide, He abides with us. As we trust, He strengthens us. As we yield, He works within us both to will and to do.

Let us therefore rejoice that regeneration is real and powerful, yet let us tremble lest we neglect so great a salvation. “Work while it is day, for the night comes when no man can work” (John 9:4). True grace humbles, warns, restores, and keeps. False assurance makes proud, deafens the conscience, and silences repentance.

Dear Christian, do not rest in a doctrine when you may rest in a Savior. Do not cling to a theory when you may cling to the living Christ. Regeneration is not an argument to win but a life to live — a life hidden with Christ in God.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

THE JOURNEY OF FAITH: WALKING AND RUNNING

The Christian life is often pictured as a journey—a steady walk and a determined race. The Word of God calls us to “walk worthy of the calling with which you were called,” meaning our steps each day should reflect the grace that found us (Eph. 4:1). To walk with Christ is to move in rhythm with His will, one step at a time, trusting His direction when the road feels long or uncertain. The believer’s walk is not hurried, but it is holy. Not perfect, but persevering.

Yet, there are moments when walking is not enough. The New Testament also calls us to run—to press forward with endurance toward the goal. Paul wrote that he had “fought the good fight” and “finished the race” (2 Tim. 4:7). The Christian race is not a sprint of emotion but a marathon of devotion. It is fueled not by self-effort but by the strength of the Spirit who renews us when we grow weary.

We are told to “run with endurance the race that is set before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb. 12:1–2). The beginning of the race may be marked by excitement and zeal, but what matters most is how we finish. Many start well but faint along the way. Others stumble early yet rise again through grace to cross the finish line with joy.

So today, keep walking faithfully and running boldly. When the path feels steep and the course seems long, remember—Christ ran before you, and He waits at the finish with a crown of righteousness and the words every runner longs to hear: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

HE SEEKS OUR GOOD

The God of the Bible seeks our good. Every movement of His heart, every act of His hand, every command He gives is born out of love and designed for our blessing. “And now, Israel,” Moses said, “what does the Lord your God require of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways, to love Him, to serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep His commandments and statutes which I command you today for your good” (Deuteronomy 10:12–13).

Did you hear that? For your good. God’s will is not a burden laid upon the shoulders of His people. It is the pathway to rest, peace, and fullness. When God asks for obedience, it is not because He craves power but because He desires our freedom. His commands are not the bars of a prison but the walls of a fortress keeping us safe from harm. Every word He speaks is a word of life, and every law He gives is love in disguise.

From the very beginning, this has been the heart of God—to do good to His people. Even in discipline, His hand works mercy. “The Lord disciplines those He loves, as a father disciplines the son in whom he delights” (Proverbs 3:12). When God corrects us, it is not to wound us, but to heal us. Not to destroy us, but to make us whole. His chastening is the pruning of the vine so that the branch might bear more fruit (John 15:2).

The whole Bible is a revelation of a God who delights to bless. He made the earth good, filled it with beauty, and placed man in it to enjoy communion with Himself. Even after humanity fell into sin, His first words were not of vengeance, but of promise. He spoke of the Seed who would crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15). Redemption was not man’s idea, it was God’s. Before the world was formed, He had already designed the plan of salvation in Christ (Ephesians 1:4). He saw our need before we knew we were lost, and He prepared the remedy before the disease had even taken root.

Everything God does is for our good. Every blessing He gives is freely offered. And yet, how often we live as though His hand were closed. James wrote, “You do not have because you do not ask” (James 4:2). Heaven’s storehouse stands full, but the doors are opened only by prayer. Christ Himself said, “Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks the door will be opened” (Matthew 7:7–8).

What a promise that is! It is as though God has set before us a fountain of living water and said, “Drink freely.” The tragedy of the Christian life is not that God is unwilling to give, but that we are unwilling to come. Many believers live in spiritual poverty while the riches of heaven are within reach. How much grace is left unused because we have not asked for it!

Dear believer, your Father delights to give. He who did not withhold His own Son will not withhold anything else that is truly good for you (Romans 8:32). When you come to Him, come as a child to a loving parent. The blessings of heaven are not earned—they are inherited through Christ. The secret is simple: draw near to Him, ask in faith, and rest in His goodness.

From eternity past, the plan of redemption was in the mind of God. Paul calls it “the mystery hidden for ages, now revealed through Christ” (Ephesians 3:9–11). The whole system of salvation—every detail, every promise, every act of grace—came from the heart of God. We did not ask Him to send a Savior. He sent one because love compelled Him to act. The cross was not an accident in time but the eternal purpose of God unfolding in history.

No one gave God counsel in His plan. “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!” Paul exclaimed. “How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has ever been His counselor? Who has ever given to God that He should repay them? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever!” (Romans 11:33–36).

Think of that: the plan of salvation was conceived entirely in the mind of God. Every detail—Christ’s birth, His cross, His resurrection, His ascension—was written in the book of divine purpose long before the world began. And every part of it was for our good. He chose us, called us, redeemed us, and sealed us—all out of His mercy, all because He desired our good.

God’s goodness does not fluctuate with our failures. He is rich in mercy and great in love (Ephesians 2:4). His compassion does not expire when we fall. His mercy is renewed every morning (Lamentations 3:22–23). Though we stumble, He remains faithful. His love endures forever (Psalm 136:1–5).

At one time, we were enemies of God, wandering far from His presence, chasing after our own ways. Yet even then, He loved us. He came looking for us as a shepherd searches for a lost sheep (Luke 15:4–7). He sought us not because we were worthy, but because He is gracious. He forgives our sins freely through the blood of His Son (Ephesians 1:7; Colossians 1:14). His pardon is not partial but complete. He casts our sins into the depths of the sea and remembers them no more (Micah 7:19).

This is the heart of God: He seeks our good even when we resist Him. His patience waits at the door. His kindness leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4). Every trial He allows, every blessing He bestows, every delay He permits, all are part of His design to draw us nearer to Himself.

Do you see the tenderness of His heart? When Israel wandered in the wilderness, God bore them “as a man carries his son” (Deuteronomy 1:31). When they thirsted, He brought water from the rock. When they hungered, He sent bread from heaven. And when they rebelled, He still guided them by cloud and by fire. His mercy was greater than their disobedience.

So it is with us. The Christian life is not a journey of perfect performance, but of continual dependence. God does not measure our progress by how strong we appear, but by how much we trust Him. His goal is not to make us self-sufficient, but Christ-sufficient. He will lead us through the valleys of weakness until we learn to rest in His strength.

When you doubt His goodness, look again to the cross. There you see the heart of God laid bare. The One who hung between heaven and earth did so for you. Every thorn, every wound, every drop of blood testifies: God seeks your good. He who spared not His own Son has given Himself completely for your eternal joy.

The soul that believes this truth finds rest. You can lay down your burdens and say, “Lord, You know what is best for me. I will trust You.” You can stop striving to earn His favor and begin living from the overflow of His love. The heart that trusts His goodness walks in peace, even when the path is dark.

When you know that God seeks your good, fear loses its grip. The believer who rests in God’s goodness becomes unshaken by life’s storms. The world may tremble, but the one hidden in God stands secure. “The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble. He knows those who take refuge in Him” (Nahum 1:7).

He knows you. He loves you. He is for you. Everything He does, every path He allows, every command He gives is meant for your good and His glory. The Potter shapes the clay not to destroy it, but to fashion it into something beautiful.

So trust Him. Lean your weary soul into His hands. Let His goodness be the pillow upon which you rest your head each night. He seeks your good more than you seek it yourself. And one day, when you stand before Him in glory, you will look back over every trial, every delay, every unanswered prayer and say with tears of joy, “He did all things well.”

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

THE REIGN OF CHRIST

Let’s walk together on some foundation stones. I want you to imagine us sitting on a porch at sunset, Bible in hand, letting the Holy Spirit speak gently to you about the reign of Christ. First, ask yourself: is Christ’s kingdom mainly earthly in its expression? If not, then many of those premillennial assumptions tumble like old bricks. You’ve heard the idea: that one day Jesus will come back then begin a literal thousand‑year reign over physical Israel, with Jerusalem rebuilt, the temple restored, and all of that. But listen—the Scriptures don’t lead us there. They suggest something more beautiful, more intimate, more now.

Think about when Israel demanded a king “so we might be like the nations” (1 Samuel 8:7‑9). God said they weren’t just rejecting Samuel, they were rejecting Him. They wanted a throne and weapons and city walls. God had always wanted to reign in their hearts. That tells us something right off the bat: the pattern of the Davidic throne, the earthly king, was more an accommodation to human desire than the perfect prototype of God’s ultimate rule. Our King’s throne is not bound to bricks and mortar.

Second, let us look at Jesus’ own words. When He stood before Pilate He said calmly, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). That’s huge. He didn’t come to launch a physical rebellion against Rome. He came to launch a reign of far greater power: spiritual, eternal, transformative. His teaching was full of statements like “the kingdom of God is in your midst” (Luke 17:21) and “the kingdom of heaven is like…” (Matthew 13). We see in Romans that the kingdom isn’t meat and drink but righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17). And 2 Peter says that participating in the divine nature is part of entering that kingdom (2 Peter 1:11). The victory He wins isn’t limited to geography—it’s over sin, death, darkness, and the powers unseen.

When Jesus walked among us, He didn’t ride in as a military king with armies behind Him. He rode in on a donkey, served those around Him, loved sinners, healed the sick, and bore a cross. On the road to Emmaus His companions said, “We were hoping He would redeem Israel,” expecting political liberation. But Jesus explained how redemption was so much deeper (Luke 24:21). He inaugurated a kingdom they didn’t expect, with a throne they couldn’t observe with human eyes. This reminds us that if we keep holding onto the idea of a physical, future kingdom as the “true” one, we misunderstand the kingship of Christ.

Here’s one of the greatest encouragements: believing His rule is in hearts, that the throne is hidden yet exalted, and that the kingdom is now—even if unseen—is such freedom. The church is identified in the Bible as the “Israel of God” (Galatians 6:16) and as a holy people, called out, a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9). The old covenant expressions of physical Israel don’t hold the same place they once did (Jeremiah 19:11). The vision in Daniel of the last world empire giving way to God’s kingdom that won’t be destroyed (Daniel 2:44) speaks of something which began under Christ, not something that is yet to begin.

At Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit fell and the church was birthed, that kingdom was launched (see also Mark 9:1). And when Jesus promised that the gates of Hades will not prevail against His church (Matthew 16:18), that lines up with Daniel’s prophecy that the kingdom would never be destroyed. If the church is the kingdom, and Paul says Christ is the head of the body, the church (Colossians 1:18), then to deny that the kingdom is present is to undermine the very meaning of calling Jesus King now.

Friend, when you truly grasp that Christ’s reign is present and active, it changes how you live. You don’t live in “waiting mode” for the kingdom to dawn; you live in it. You’re not a spectator—you’re a participant. You’re not outside the circle of victory—you’re in it. One moment you might feel small, unseen, unheard, but your King is reigning. He’s seated at the right hand of God, ruling from heaven (Acts 2:33‑36). Far above every name, authority, power, dominion, and every title that can be given (Ephesians 1:20‑22). Everything is under His feet (Psalm 110:1). Your life happens under His reign.

That means your trials, your whispers of fear, your sleepless nights—they are not outside His rule. He’s not figuring things out. He’s sovereign. He works all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28‑30). Even when evil seems to rise, your King is not surprised. And because He reigns now, you already possess the victory. John said, “In this world you will have trouble; but take heart. I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Hear this: If Christ reigns now, then obedience matters, not because of fear, but because of love. He isn’t just your Savior. He’s your Lord. Your decisions, the loyalties you choose, the way you carry your body, your speech, your work—all belong to Him. You were bought at a price (1 Corinthians 6:19‑20). Your life is not your own. And yet, the yoke He gives is easy. His burden is light (Matthew 11:28‑30). Submit to Him not as a slave, but as one who knows the King loves you, and His rule blesses you.

When you wake in the morning, remind yourself: “The king is on the throne.” When you leave your home, go with the confidence that you carry the kingdom of God within you. When voices of doubt whisper, speak the truth: “Christ is reigning in me.” When you face injustice, stand firm, because the King makes justice His throne (Psalm 9:7‑10). When you feel unseen, remember that in Christ you are seated with Him in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6). Your value is locked into His reign.

And when we look forward to the return of Christ, it will be glorious. But He’s not coming to start the reign. He’s coming to finish the work. He’s coming to destroy the last enemy—death—and hand over the reign to the Father (1 Corinthians 15:24‑28). Every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Philippians 2:10‑11). He comes as King of kings and Lord of lords. He comes as one whose dominion is forever and ever (Revelation 19:16). When He appears, the faithful will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father (Matthew 13:43). And every tear will be wiped away (Revelation 21:4).

So let your soul rest in this truth: Christ reigns now. Not sometime in some distant future. Right now. Today. In you, in me, in our communities. This means you don’t wait for permission to live like God’s kingdom has arrived, you lean into it. You walk in freedom, you love like you’ve been loved, you pursue righteousness like citizens of heaven. Your life is gospel now, not just in hope, but in reality.

Let’s be people who live under the crown of Christ, not waiting for a coronation, but worshipping the King who already reigns. Let us share that good news—not because it’s one day coming, but because it’s already here. Let’s shine the light, speak the truth, love the lost, and build the church—not for a future kingdom, but for the kingdom that is already on its march, unstoppable and glorious.

And every step you take, ask the Lord: “King Jesus, show me how Your reign impacts this moment, this minute.” Because He reigns now. And your life is part of the story.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

A LIFE IN CHRIST

Jesus Christ, risen and reigning, has entrusted His Church with a commission that extends to the ends of the earth. As the Lord Himself declared, “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). This was no mere suggestion—it was the heartbeat of God’s redemptive mission. The apostles were not sent merely to make converts, but disciples—those who would follow Christ in full surrender, obeying His words, and bearing His likeness.

To be a disciple is to commit one’s life wholly to Jesus, to deny self, take up the cross daily, and walk in His steps (Luke 9:23). It is not about words alone, or attending services, or agreeing with doctrinal statements. It is a living union with the Lord—He in us, and we in Him (John 15:4).

What It Means to Be a Christian

We are called Christians, a name first given in Antioch (Acts 11:26). But more than a title, it is a testimony. A Christian is one who has seen in Jesus Christ not only a Savior, but a Master, a Friend, and the Lord of all. “You call Me Teacher and Lord, and rightly so, for that is what I am” (John 13:13).

We do not follow Him for ease, comfort, or prosperity, but because we have beheld the Lamb of God, and our hearts have been captivated by His mercy.

Once, we were filthy in His sight, clothed in the garments of sin and death. “All our righteous acts are like filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6), and we were dead in trespasses (Ephesians 2:1). But then, by grace, we looked upon Him in faith. “Look unto Me, and be saved, all the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 45:22).

And when we looked, He received us. He cleansed us. He made us new. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; old things have passed away. Behold, all things have become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Rejoicing in the Lord Always

In Philippians 4:4–8, Paul gives us a pattern for the Christian mindset: a life not ruled by circumstances, but by Christ. He writes: “Rejoice in the Lord always. Again, I will say, rejoice!”

Paul does not say to rejoice in everything that happens. Some things grieve us. Some things are unjust. But in every season, we can choose to rejoice in the Lord—because He does not change (Hebrews 13:8), and He is near (Philippians 4:5). His joy is not the result of earthly ease, but the fruit of abiding in Him (John 15:11).

“The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10). This joy—the joy of Christ Himself—is what marks the true believer. It is joy that flows from knowing Him, loving Him, and being kept by Him.

Do Not Be Anxious—Pray

The apostle then exhorts: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6).

Worry is natural to the flesh, but we have not been called to live by the flesh. Every anxious thought is a divine opportunity to turn to God in prayer. Not just occasional prayer, but a life of unceasing communion with the Father (1 Thessalonians 5:17). God wants to hear from His children. He commands us to come. “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).

And this prayer must be filled with thanksgiving—not merely asking, but trusting, remembering, and thanking God for who He is and what He has done.

Peace That Passes Understanding

As we pray, something amazing happens: “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7).

This peace is not of the world. It is from above (James 3:17). It is not the absence of problems but the presence of Christ. It is the very peace that ruled His heart in the storm, that kept Him silent before His accusers. And now it is given to those who walk with Him.

“My peace I give to you…let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27). This peace becomes our guard. It stands sentinel over our thoughts and emotions, keeping us grounded in Christ Jesus.

Set Your Mind on These Things

Paul ends this thought with a call to holy meditation: “Whatever things are true…noble…just…pure…lovely…of good report…meditate on these things” (Philippians 4:8).

The battleground of the Christian life is the mind. What we allow to fill our thoughts will soon rule our lives (Proverbs 4:23). God calls us to fix our minds not on the passing, polluted things of this world, but on that which is eternal, lovely, and Christ-centered.

We are called to see the world differently, not through the lens of fear or selfish ambition, but through the eyes of Christ. To walk in the Spirit, to love as He loves, to serve as He served. This is the life that brings joy, peace, and purpose.

Christ—The Center of All

In the end, it is all about Jesus. “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21).

We do what He has called us to do. We love as He has called us to love. We fix our eyes on Him and run the race marked out for us (Hebrews 12:1–2). Christ is the center, the source, and the goal.

Let us live as disciples—true disciples—who abide in Him, rejoice in Him, pray to Him, and walk in His peace.

“He is sufficient.”

“Christ is all, and in all” (Colossians 3:11).

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

THE RAPTURE

There Is No “Secret Rapture”: A Biblical Look at the Lord’s Coming

Beloved, let us reason together in the Word of God about this teaching so often repeated in modern times—the idea of a secret rapture, where believers quietly vanish before the world enters tribulation. The Bible does not teach such a thing. The Word of God knows nothing of a hidden return or a private gathering of saints before the end. The Lord’s coming is glorious, public, and unmistakable.

Paul declares, “The Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God; the dead in Christ will rise first; then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air” (1 Thess. 4:16–17). Nothing secret hides in that passage. The shout, the voice, the trumpet—these are heavenly announcements, not whispers in the dark.

Jesus said, “They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory” (Matt. 24:30). When He spoke these words, He was foretelling the judgment upon Jerusalem—the great tribulation of that generation (Matt. 24:34). Those signs and sorrows were fulfilled when Rome destroyed the city in A.D. 70, just as the Lord had said. That was His coming in judgment, the sign that the Son of Man had taken His throne. But that fulfillment does not erase the greater promise still to come: His visible, final appearing when every eye shall see Him (Rev. 1:7).

The Scriptures reveal a pattern: Christ’s authority was established then, His kingdom now advances through His church, and His final return will consummate what He began. There is no hidden departure of the saints before that day. Rather, the faithful are called to endure, to stand firm, and to finish the race with perseverance. The early church looked not for escape but for endurance. Paul wrote, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim. 4:7).

In that same spirit, he told the Corinthians, “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet, the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed” (1 Cor. 15:52). Notice “the last trumpet.” There are no two separate comings divided by years of earthly chaos. There is one climactic return, one resurrection, one eternal kingdom handed to the Father (1 Cor. 15:24).

When Christ returns, it will not be secret, nor partial, nor invisible. He will come as Judge and King. The apostle says, “When the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels in flaming fire, taking vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel” (2 Thess. 1:7–8). That revelation joins the reward of the righteous and the judgment of the wicked in one great event.

Even the familiar passage of “one taken and the other left” (Matt. 24:40–41) points not to a rapture but to judgment. As in the days of Noah, those taken were swept away in destruction, while those left were the ones who endured. Scripture consistently connects the appearing of Christ with both the resurrection and the final reckoning.

Dear friend, much of what Jesus foretold in Matthew 24 has already been accomplished—wars, persecutions, the fall of Jerusalem, and the ending of the old covenant order. Those prophecies confirmed His lordship and the faithfulness of His word. But the blessed hope of His people remains: the bodily resurrection and the final appearing of Christ in glory. That will not happen in secret. It will be the triumph of all creation’s story.

So we wait, not in fear of the future, but in confidence that Christ reigns now and will return when all things are complete. The church is not called to hide from tribulation, but to walk in victory through it. For the same Jesus who ascended in glory will return in like manner as He was seen going into heaven (Acts 1:11).

Therefore, beloved, be steadfast. Keep walking and running the race set before you (Heb. 12:1). Many start the race with excitement, but the reward belongs to those who finish with endurance. It’s not how you begin, it’s how you finish. Let faith hold steady, hope stay bright, and love remain strong.

When that trumpet sounds, it will not be a secret sound known only to a few, but the song of triumph heard across heaven and earth. The Lord Himself will descend, and the graves will yield their redeemed. Every nation will see, every tongue will confess, and every heart made righteous will rejoice.

No, dear friend, there will be no secret rapture (1 Thess. 4:16–17). There will be a glorious appearing (Titus 2:13). There will be a resurrection of the just and unjust (John 5:28–29; Acts 24:15). A renewal of all creation (Rom. 8:19–21). And a new heaven and a new earth where righteousness dwells (2 Pet. 3:13; Rev. 21:1).

That is our hope (Col. 1:27; 1 Pet. 1:3–4).

That is our finish line (2 Tim. 4:7–8).

And until that day dawns, let us keep running, keep believing, and keep proclaiming the victory of Christ our King.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

VESSELS OF GRACE AND TROPHIES OF MERCY

One of the most humbling and beautiful truths in the Christian life is that God chooses ordinary, broken people to be carriers of His extraordinary grace. We are not just called to receive His mercy but to become living, breathing displays of it. The Bible says that we have this treasure—God’s presence, His gospel, His power—in jars of clay so that it’s clear the strength comes from Him, not from us (2 Corinthians 4:7). That means every weakness, every cleft in the vessel of our lives, becomes another place where His grace shines through.

It’s not about how strong we are. It’s about how available we are. God isn’t looking for perfect people. He’s looking for surrendered ones. When Paul wrote to Timothy, he said that in a large house there are all kinds of vessels. Some are made of gold and silver, others of wood and clay. Some are used for special purposes, others for ordinary things. But if we cleanse ourselves from what is dishonorable, we will be made useful to the Master, ready for every good work (2 Timothy 2:20–21). That’s what we want—to be useful to the One who saved us. Not flashy. Not perfect. Just clean and ready.

But we’re not only vessels of grace—we’re trophies of mercy. A trophy is something you display to show what has already been won. It’s proof of victory. Paul said in Ephesians that even when we were spiritually dead, God made us alive with Christ. He raised us up and seated us with Christ in heavenly places, so that in the coming ages He could show the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 2:5–7). That’s your life, if you belong to Jesus. You’re proof of what His mercy can do. You’re on display—not to draw attention to yourself but to draw attention to the One who rescued you.

That’s why you don’t need to carry shame around anymore. You don’t need to keep hiding your past or worrying about what other people think. The enemy wants to keep you quiet by reminding you of who you used to be. But God wants to use your life to tell the story of who He is. Paul said that Christ came into the world to save sinners, and he called himself the worst of them. But he said he received mercy so that Jesus could show unlimited patience through him as an example for others who would believe (1 Timothy 1:15–16). If God can do that with Paul, He can do it with you.

So today, walk like someone who’s been chosen, cleaned up, and filled with grace. Don’t shrink back from being used by God because of your past. Your story is now part of His story. You are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works that He already prepared for you to walk in (Ephesians 2:10). You don’t have to strive to be something you’re not. Just stay close to Jesus. Stay yielded. Keep your heart soft, your hands open, and your eyes on the One who took you from death to life.

And when you see someone else who is broken, don’t look down on them. Remember where you came from. Be quick to extend mercy, because you’ve received more than you could ever repay. The same grace that’s been poured into your life is meant to spill over into theirs. You’re not just a container of God’s grace. You’re a channel for it.

Let it flow.

Let. It. Flow.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

WHAT ABOUT TATTOOS?

Let’s go ahead and say it straight: No, it is not a sin to have a tattoo. What matters to God is not ink on your skin but the condition of your heart. This doesn’t mean we throw out wisdom or do whatever we want. But if you’re in Christ, you are under grace, not a list of religious rules meant to manage outward appearances. You belong to the Lord, and your identity is found in Him.

The one verse that usually gets pulled into this conversation is from Leviticus, where it says not to mark your body for the dead or tattoo yourselves (Leviticus 19:28). But that command was given to Israel in the Old Testament as part of a larger law that also includes not trimming your beard a certain way or wearing clothes made from two kinds of fabric. These commands were about separating Israel from pagan nations that used body markings as part of idolatrous worship. It wasn’t about modern tattoos and it wasn’t meant to carry into the new covenant.

Jesus fulfilled the Law perfectly. Believers are no longer under the old system but are called to walk in the freedom and holiness that comes through the Spirit (Romans 6:14, Galatians 5:1). That means the question isn’t, “Does God hate tattoos?” but “Does what I’m doing honor Him?” God looks at the heart. That’s what He told Samuel when He chose David. People look at the outside, but the Lord looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).

In the New Testament, the focus is always on motives, not man-made traditions. Paul said that whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31). So if you’re getting a tattoo to express your faith, remember a loved one, or mark something meaningful that honors the Lord, your freedom in Christ allows it. But if your motive is to rebel, show off, or draw attention to self, then it’s worth checking your heart.

What we wear, what we look like, and yes, even if we have tattoos—none of these make us clean or unclean before God. Jesus made that clear when He said it’s not what goes into the body that defiles us, but what comes out of the heart (Mark 7:15). A tattoo doesn’t make someone more or less holy. What matters is whether Christ lives in you. The fruit of the Spirit is not ink-free skin. It’s love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22–23).

So if you’re a believer and you have tattoos, you’re not second-class. And if you’re considering one, seek the Lord in prayer. Ask for wisdom. Ask yourself why you want it. And whatever you do, do it as someone who belongs to Jesus, bought with a price, and filled with the Spirit of God (1 Corinthians 6:19–20).

In the end, it’s not the markings on your skin that tell the world who you are. It’s the mark of Christ on your life.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

NO ONE KNOWS THE TIME: Living Ready, Not Predicting Dates

Jesus Christ is coming again. That is the blessed hope of the Church and the longing of every heart that loves Him. But one thing we must never forget—and never distort—is that no one knows when that day will come. Over and over again, Scripture warns us not to assume, not to guess, and definitely not to declare any specific time or season for His return. Jesus Himself said it plainly. No one knows the day or the hour—not the angels in heaven, not even the Son, but only the Father (Matthew 24:36).

That should settle it. And yet, history is filled with men and movements who have tried to pinpoint the timing of Christ’s return. They quote obscure prophecies, calculate timelines, and make bold claims that this year or that date must be the one. But Jesus already told us it would be like a thief in the night. Unexpected. Sudden. Without warning (Luke 12:39–40; 1 Thessalonians 5:2). And when people ignore those words and chase predictions, they don’t just get it wrong. They damage the witness of the gospel. Every failed prophecy tied to a date drags the name of Jesus through the mud and turns sincere seekers into hardened skeptics.

We are called to be ready, not to be right about a date. The early Church didn’t walk around with charts and countdowns. They lived with urgency and faithfulness because they believed the King could return at any moment. Jesus said to stay dressed for action and keep our lamps burning like servants waiting for their Master to come home (Luke 12:35–36). That’s the posture of the Christian life—alert, faithful, expectant—not distracted by speculation or obsessed with the headlines.

And let’s also be clear about what we’re waiting for. Our hope is not in a nation, a temple, or a return to Old Testament systems. Our hope is in Jesus Christ alone. Paul told the Ephesians that there is one hope to which we have been called (Ephesians 4:4), and that hope is the return of the Lord Jesus to make all things new. There’s a lot of talk these days about geopolitical events, about the rebuilding of the temple, and about restoring old covenants. But that’s not where the New Testament points us. Salvation is not about being born into the right family or keeping the right customs. Salvation is by grace through faith in Christ, whether you are Jew or Gentile (Romans 1:16).

To elevate national Israel above the gospel is to misunderstand the entire purpose of God’s redemptive plan. Christ fulfilled the Law. He tore down the dividing wall between Jew and Gentile and created one new people in Himself (Ephesians 2:14–16). There is not a different way for different groups. There’s one Savior and one way of salvation. If we understand that rightly, then we will look forward to His return, not to the return of a religious system that was only ever meant to point to Him.

So live today in humility and hope. Be awake. Be watching. Be faithful in what He has given you to do. Don’t waste time chasing predictions. Don’t get swept up in movements that promise secret knowledge or special timelines. Instead, fix your eyes on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of your faith (Hebrews 12:2). The King is coming. That’s certain. But the timing is not for us to know. What is for us to do is live like it could be today—because it could.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

JESUS PUT SIN BACK ON THE TREE

From the very beginning, God has always worked through trees. In the Garden of Eden, there stood “the tree of life in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Genesis 2:9). God gave Adam and Eve clear instruction: “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you shall not eat, for in the day you eat of it, you shall surely die” (Genesis 2:16–17).

But Adam didn’t listen. He reached out his hand and took what God had forbidden. When he did, he didn’t just take a bite of fruit—he took sin off the tree and brought it into himself. That one act of disobedience changed everything. “Just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, so death spread to all men because all sinned” (Romans 5:12).

Adam’s decision transferred sin from the outside world to the inside of him. We have all proven that we are the “children of Adam” by doing exactly what he did in rebelling against God.

Jesus came to undo what Adam had done—to take the sin that man pulled down from the tree and nail it back where it belonged. Peter tells us, “He Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness—by whose stripes you were healed” (1 Peter 2:24).

What a powerful reversal! Adam took from the tree and brought death. Jesus gave Himself on the tree and brought life. The first Adam reached out in disobedience, but the second Adam stretched out His arms in obedience. Paul wrote, “For as by one man’s disobedience many were made sinners, so by one Man’s obedience many will be made righteous” (Romans 5:19).

Think about that: what started with a hand reaching up to a forbidden branch ended with hands stretched wide on a Roman cross. Adam reached for something that wasn’t his. Jesus let go of everything that was His. Adam took. Jesus gave.

Jesus didn’t just carry sin—He became sin for us. “God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). He bore the full weight of humanity’s rebellion and nailed it to that cross. That’s why Paul said, “Having forgiven you all trespasses, He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross” (Colossians 2:13–14).

When Jesus hung there, He wasn’t just dying—He was restoring. The curse that began with Adam was being broken. Paul wrote, “Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree’” (Galatians 3:13).

In the Garden, a tree brought death. On Calvary, a tree brought life. In Eden, man hid from God behind the trees. At the cross, God revealed Himself on one. The tree that once represented rebellion became the very instrument of redemption.

When Jesus finally said, “It is finished” (John 19:30), He wasn’t just talking about His suffering being over. He was declaring that sin’s power was broken, that everything Adam lost had been restored. The work was complete. The sin that was taken off the tree in Genesis was put back on the tree in the Gospels.

So what does that mean for you and me today? It means we don’t have to carry what Jesus already carried. The curse doesn’t belong to us anymore. The guilt, shame, and condemnation that Adam brought into the world were all lifted off our shoulders and nailed to that wooden cross.

Jesus put sin back on the tree so that you could walk in freedom beneath it. He didn’t just change your destiny—He changed your identity. Now, through faith in Him, you can eat freely from the tree of life again.

Revelation gives us a glimpse of that final restoration: “Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter through the gates into the city” (Revelation 22:14).

From the garden to the cross, and from the cross to eternity, God’s story with trees comes full circle. The first tree brought sin into man, but the second tree took sin out of man. And the final tree—the tree of life—will stand forever as a symbol of what Jesus accomplished.

So today, live like someone redeemed. The fruit of sin no longer defines you. The tree of death has become the tree of life. Jesus put sin back on the tree—so you can live free.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

THE LORD, THE LAW, THE KINGDOM, AND THE PRESSING SOUL

“The law and the prophets were until John: since that time the kingdom of God is preached, and every man presses into it.” — Luke 16:16

There are some verses in the Bible that serve as a border crossing between two worlds. Luke 16:16 is one of them. In one breath, Jesus speaks of the Law and the Prophets—God’s word to Israel for centuries past—and in the next, He declares the beginning of something entirely new: the kingdom of God.

This is a dividing line in redemptive history. Jesus Himself draws the line. “The Law and the Prophets were until John.” That word “until” marks a termination. It is the divine full stop to the Old Covenant’s supremacy. The ministry of John the Baptizer was the final thunderclap before the dawning of the Sun of Righteousness (Mal. 4:2). John stood at the boundary between the shadow and the substance, between the promise and the fulfillment. His was a transitional voice — not proclaiming Moses, but preparing the way for the Messiah.

When Jesus says the Law and the Prophets were “until John,” He does not merely mean they were quoted up to his time — He means they governed the religious life of God’s people up to that point, and no further. With John’s voice crying in the wilderness, God signaled that a new age had come — the age of the gospel, the age of the kingdom.

Now, since that time, the kingdom of God is preached. What kingdom? Not some future political regime in earthly Jerusalem. Not a thousand-year throne awaiting installation. No — the kingdom now, the rule of heaven in the hearts of men, made possible by the blood of Christ and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Christ did not come to offer Israel a political deliverance; He came to reign in hearts, to cleanse consciences, to reconcile rebels to God. The King has come. The throne has been set. And the kingdom is not postponed — it is preached (Col. 1:13; Heb. 12:28).

And now hear this with trembling heart: “Every man presses into it.” The kingdom is not entered passively. Jesus is telling us that the door to His reign must be pressed into. This is no casual wandering in. The verb suggests effort, intensity, even violence — as Matthew records it, “the violent take it by force” (Matt. 11:12). What does this mean?

Here is where devotion meets doctrine. To press into the kingdom is not to earn it, but to long for it with holy desperation. It is to see the glory of the King, the worth of His reign, and to cast off every weight to enter in. It is to say, like Paul, “I count all things loss for the excellency of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Phil. 3:8). This pressing is the soul’s thirst for righteousness, the heart’s cry for deliverance from sin, the mind’s hunger for truth.

This pressing isn’t just human effort or religious ambition — it is the quiet, powerful work of the Holy Spirit pulling the soul toward full surrender. It is God Himself stirring up a deep hunger, so that He might be the one to satisfy it. As Jesus said, “Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be filled” (Matt. 5:6). The one who truly enters the kingdom is the one whose heart longs for nothing more than Christ Himself. What a breathtaking truth — the King of glory is reigning even now, and He invites us to come under His rule today.

But dear soul, do you see how tragic it is that many have settled for a future kingdom when Jesus offers His presence today? Premillennialism, in its earthly focus, robs believers of their inheritance. It teaches them to look forward to what Scripture says is already theirs. It places the crown of Christ on a shelf to be dusted off later — while the apostles declared Him already crowned, reigning, and exalted (Acts 2:36; Heb. 1:3).

Let it be said plainly: if the kingdom is yet future, then Luke 16:16 is a riddle. But if the kingdom is now, if it is entered by faith and repentance, if the gospel is the call to enter the reign of grace — then we must preach it, press into it, and live under it.

Let your heart be stirred by this, not just your mind instructed.

Are you pressing in? The gospel is not an invitation to drift. It is a call to pursue, to press, to lay hold of eternal life (1 Tim. 6:12). The Spirit is calling you to come boldly to the throne of grace (Heb. 4:16). Will you answer?

Is Christ reigning in you? To enter the kingdom is to submit to the King. He does not reign where He is not obeyed. Examine your heart. Are there areas of resistance? Yield. Surrender. Let the King rule fully in every chamber of your soul.

Do you hunger for His rule? The joy of the kingdom is not in escape from the world, but in communion with the King. The law pointed to Him. The prophets longed for Him. Now He is yours. Do you cherish His nearness? Meditate on Psalm 45 — the King in His beauty.

Are you proclaiming His kingdom? If the kingdom is now, and the gospel is the announcement of its arrival, then evangelism is kingdom work. Don’t wait for a new age — we are in it. We preach the good news that Jesus reigns now, and sinners may be saved now.

In conclusion, Luke 16:16 stands as a blast of transition, a divine pivot in the history of redemption. The law and the prophets fulfilled their role. John marked the turning. Christ brought the kingdom. And now the door stands open. Every man must press into it — with faith, with repentance, with holy desire.

Let no man wait for another kingdom to come. It has come. Let no believer sit idle awaiting some earthly throne. The throne is in heaven. Let no preacher delay the gospel call. The kingdom is preached — now. Let us press in, and help others do the same.

             Bryan Dewayne Dunaway