CHRIST FORMED WITHIN

God’s purpose for us is not only that we be forgiven, but that Christ be formed within. Salvation is the beginning of a far greater journey—the shaping of the soul into the likeness of the Savior. The Father’s desire is not just to make us better, but to make us His. Paul wrote with holy yearning, “My little children, for whom I labor in birth again until Christ is formed in you” (Galatians 4:19). This is the mystery of the Christian life—not us trying to be like Him, but Him living in us, expressing His life through clay vessels.

This forming comes through the Cross. The Cross is not only the place where Christ died for us; it is where we die with Him. It is where pride is broken, where self-will is surrendered, and where our hearts are emptied so His Spirit can fill them. Each time we yield our way for His way, His image grows clearer in us. “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). The Cross is not the end of life—it is the beginning of His life in us.

Christ in us is the secret to all fruitfulness. Without Him, we can do nothing (John 15:5). But when we abide in Him, His love flows through us like living water. Our words become softer, our service becomes purer, and our hearts begin to reflect His patience and peace. We do not strain to bear fruit; we simply stay near the Vine, and His life produces what our effort never could. The more we rest in His presence, the more His beauty begins to shine through.

This is the true work of grace—not achievement, but transformation. God’s goal is not to make us famous, but faithful. Not powerful in the eyes of men, but pure in the sight of Heaven. Day by day, the Holy Spirit shapes us, often quietly, through trials, tears, and tender mercies, until the life of Christ is seen. And when that happens, heaven touches earth. The fragrance of His life fills our days, and the world sees not us, but Him who lives within.

Lord Jesus,

Let Your life be formed within me. Shape my heart to mirror Yours. Teach me to yield where I once resisted, to love where I once judged, to trust where I once feared. May the Cross do its holy work in me until pride is broken and Your peace reigns. Let my life be a reflection of Your gentleness and strength. Abide in me as the Vine in the branch. Let Your words find a home in my heart, and let Your Spirit breathe through my days. When I am weak, be my strength. When I am silent, speak through me. When I am still, fill me. And when I stand before You at last, may the world have seen not me, but You living in me.

Amen.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS MADE SIMPLE

There are moments in history when God allows something long hidden to come to light—quietly, unexpectedly, almost as though He is reminding us that His Word endures forever (Isaiah 40:8). The discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls is one of those moments. In 1947, a young shepherd near the Dead Sea tossed a stone into a cave and heard the sound of breaking pottery; inside were jars filled with ancient scrolls. What seemed like an accident became one of the greatest archaeological finds of all time—proof that God’s truth survives across centuries, untouched by decay, faithful and enduring like the God who spoke it.

The Dead Sea Scrolls are simply very old copies of books from the Old Testament—handwritten by a Jewish group living two centuries before Jesus. Scrolls of Isaiah, Deuteronomy, Psalms, and many others were found, some nearly complete. Their importance is simple to understand: these scrolls show that the Scriptures we read today are the same Scriptures ancient believers read back then. When scholars compared the book of Isaiah in the scrolls with the Isaiah we have now, the match was astonishingly close, showing how carefully God’s people preserved His Word (Psalm 119:89).

For students trying to understand why this matters, picture it this way—if someone told you your Bible had changed over time, or that people had added things to it, the Dead Sea Scrolls answer that challenge. They bridge the gap between the days before Jesus and the Bibles we hold in our hands today. Their accuracy shows that God’s Word has been guarded through scribes, centuries, kingdoms, and even through the dust of forgotten caves (Matthew 24:35). What God speaks, He keeps; what He promises, He preserves.

But the scrolls also whisper a deeper devotional truth—God is not careless with His revelation. He keeps it, He protects it, and He brings it forth when His people need assurance. The same Lord who watched over those ancient texts watches over your life; the same God who preserved His Word across two thousand years will surely keep His promises to you across the short span of your days (Psalm 121:7-8). The scrolls remind us that faith is not built on shifting sand—our confidence rests in a God who guards His truth and shepherds His people.

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ROOTED LIKE THE RIGHTEOUS: A Reflection on Trees

There is a quiet wisdom in the way Scripture speaks of trees—rooted, steady, lifting their branches toward heaven—and every believer feels the weight of that image sooner or later. A tree does not hurry, it does not strain, it simply abides in the soil that feeds it and reaches upward toward the light; and in that gentle metaphor the Lord whispers the very heart of discipleship (Psalm 1:1-3).

Joyce Kilmer once wrote, “I think that I shall never see / a poem lovely as a tree”—a reminder that even the simplest oak or cedar silently declares the beauty of its Maker. The Christian life, when lived in patient faith, becomes such a testimony; quiet, constant, nourishing, bearing witness not to ourselves but to the God who planted us.

The Scriptures return to this image again and again, as though the Holy Spirit knew how much we needed its simplicity. The righteous are compared to trees planted beside rivers—drawing life from a source deeper than themselves (Jeremiah 17:7-8). They do not fear the heat, they do not wither in seasons of drought, because their roots drink from God’s faithfulness. Jesus echoes this image when He speaks of good trees bearing good fruit, each revealing its nature by what it produces (Matthew 7:17-20). In a world blown about by every wind, the believer is called to be stable—rooted in Christ, nourished by His Word.

And there is another comfort hidden in the metaphor; trees grow slowly. They do not become mighty in a moment; they thicken ring by ring—one season of rain, one season of heat, one winter of waiting at a time. So the believer grows, often without noticing; grace shaping us quietly, the Spirit strengthening us inwardly, the Father pruning us wisely so that more fruit may come (John 15:1-2). Our failures do not uproot us, nor do our struggles define us; we stand where He has planted us, and His mercy becomes our strength.

Perhaps that is why Kilmer’s simple lines linger—because they remind us that beauty is often silent. The Christian rooted in Christ becomes such a quiet beauty in the world; not loud, not hurried, simply faithful. And in due season, the fruit appears; love, joy, peace, patience—each a testimony that the life of Jesus is flowing through us (Galatians 5:22-23). To be a tree in the courts of the Lord is not only our calling; it is our comfort, for He Himself tends us, and His presence is our endless spring (Psalm 92:12-14).

“Poems are made by fools like me / But only God can make a tree”

Lord Jesus, plant me deeply in Your grace. Let Your Word be the river that nourishes my soul. Make my life a quiet, fruitful tree for Your glory.

BDD

WHEN IT COMES TO COUNTRY MUSIC (I Sometimes Wish it Was the 1990s)

There was something in the air during the 1990s—some strange, awesome, illogical groove in country music that defies tidy explanation. It was raw, honest, steel-stringed, and steady as an old heartbeat. And in my mind it was just as good as anything that ever came before it.

That sound, I fear, has mostly vanished from the modern airwaves, but it shaped some of my most formative years. Songs like “Yard Sale” by Sammy Kershaw, “Learning to Live Without You” by Ken Mellons, “This One’s Gonna Hurt You” by Travis Tritt and Marty Stuart, “Some Girls Do” by Sawyer Brown, and “Lillie’s White Lies” by Martin Del Rey carried grit, sorrow, sometimes humor, and truth in equal measure—songs that reached down into the marrow of life and left their mark. This stuff sounded real because it was real. I love 90’s country.

And yet, time moves on, and so do sounds. Things have changed in Music City and melodies are sometimes more sugar than steel, more shimmer than substance. Even so, the human heart hasn’t changed at all—it still bleeds, still aches, still hopes, still longs for something real beneath the noise. Modern country may not hit the same groove for me, and I might grimace at the shift in tone and message, but deep down I recognize that the struggles, the heartbreak, the joy, and the need for grace remain unchanged. The music has changed, but the need for truth has not.

In this, I see a lesson for ministry and for life: the gospel doesn’t need to sound the same to reach hearts. Just as music adapts, just as styles change, the Word of God can be preached in ways I might not prefer, through voices I might not choose, through methods I might not expect. And yet, beneath every rhythm, beneath every lyric, there is still a soul crying for hope, still a heart longing for forgiveness, still a life waiting for Jesus. Whether it’s a 90s country ballad or a modern pop-infused song, God can use it to minister, to comfort, and to awaken.

So I can chuckle at the new sounds, and sigh for the old, and still rejoice that His work never stops. God finds a way to reach us in the music, in the moments, in the melodies, even when my taste or expectations do not align. And perhaps that is the best lesson of all: that truth, grace, and the gospel itself are never constrained by style, tempo, or generation—they flow freely to the hearts prepared to hear them, just as they always have. Even if they come from sounds and lyrics with which I personally do not identify. My comfort does not matter. The cause of Christ does.

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IF YOU WANT TO GET TECHNICAL ABOUT “SOUND DOCTRINE”

In 2 Timothy 4:3–5, Paul warns:

“For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers; and they will turn their ears away from the truth, and be turned aside to fables.”

These verses are often misappropriated by those who seek to justify denominational rules, institutional hierarchies, or legalistic traditions. Yet a careful study—linguistic, historical, and theological—reveals that Paul is condemning precisely the elevation of human commandments over God’s Word, not advocating them.

Greek Terms and Their Significance

The phrase ὑγιαίνουσα διδασκαλία (hugiaínousa didaskalía) is central. The participle ὑγιαίνουσα, from ὑγιαίνω, means “healthy, whole, sound,” emphasizing teaching that strengthens, nourishes, and preserves spiritual life. Διδασκαλία (didaskalía) denotes instruction or teaching. Together, the phrase conveys life-giving, formative instruction rooted in God’s Word, capable of correcting error and equipping believers (Hebrews 5:14; 2 Timothy 3:16–17).

Conversely, κνηθόμενοι τὴν ἀκοήν (knēthómenoi tēn akoḗn)—“itching ears”—depicts a restless desire for instruction that gratifies personal preference rather than submitting to truth. The Greek verb κνήθω carries the sense of irritation or eagerness for novelty, showing that these listeners actively seek teachers who confirm their own ideas, rather than feeding on Scripture (Isaiah 30:9–11).

Contextual Considerations

Paul writes to Timothy in a church threatened by both Judaizers and human philosophies (Acts 19:26–27). The Ephesian believers are warned repeatedly against substituting human traditions and commandments for God’s Word (Colossians 2:20–23; 1 Corinthians 1:10–17). Paul’s counsel is pastoral: the aim of doctrine is to nourish, correct, and equip, not to uphold human institutions or denominational hierarchies.

Parallel Scriptures Reinforce the Argument

• Titus 1:9 – Elders are to “hold fast the faithful word…that they may be able to exhort in sound doctrine and refute those who contradict.” True sound doctrine equips and corrects; it is not a vehicle for enforcing man-made rules.

• Matthew 15:3–9 – Jesus condemns leaders who prioritize human traditions over God’s commandments, illustrating the very danger Paul addresses.

• Colossians 2:20–23 – Paul warns against legalistic observances that appear wise but have no power to transform the soul.

These passages establish that any attempt to defend human rules using 2 Timothy 4:3–5 is the very misinterpretation Paul condemns.

Logical Flow: From Human Desire to Condemnation

1. Desire arises – Individuals seek instruction that affirms their personal preferences.

2. Teachers are selected – They gather instructors who reinforce man-made rules or institutional priorities.

3. Truth is rejected – The Word of God is ignored or distorted.

4. Fables take root – Human traditions or doctrines masquerade as spiritual authority.

5. Condemnation follows – Paul explicitly condemns this practice; it is a turning from truth to error.

The inverse is equally clear: sound doctrine nurtures, corrects, and leads to Christ-centered maturity. It builds life and equips for every good work (2 Timothy 3:16–17).

Direct Refutation of Misuse

Some modern interpreters point to these verses to defend denominational rules, institutional authority, or legalistic practices. Yet the text, context, and Greek usage demonstrate that this is exactly what Paul condemns: he criticizes the elevation of human preference over divine instruction. Any teaching that prioritizes man-made commandments is the fable, not the healthy doctrine, and directly violates the intent of Scripture.

Sound doctrine is therefore unmistakably defined: it is Christ-centered, Spirit-led, and spiritually nourishing, equipping the believer to discern truth, reject error, and grow in obedience. Human traditions, institutional loyalties, or legalistic rules masquerading as doctrine fail every measure Paul sets forth.

Conclusion

2 Timothy 4:3–5 is both warning and guide:

• Warning: The human tendency to seek teachers who confirm personal preferences, human traditions, or denominational doctrines leads away from truth.

• Guide: Faithful teachers and believers must uphold sound doctrine—healthy, nourishing teaching that aligns hearts and minds with Christ.

To use Paul’s words to defend human institutions is precisely what he condemns. Sound doctrine does not enforce man-made rules; it strengthens the soul, corrects error, and nurtures obedience. Anything else is a fable—pleasing to itching ears but deadly to the spirit. Let every believer embrace the Word rightly divided, rejecting fables, and walking in the life-giving truth of Christ.

__________

Appendix: Real-Life Examples of Sound (Healthy) Doctrine vs. Unsound (Legalistic) Doctrine

These examples illustrate the distinction Paul makes between ὑγιαίνουσα διδασκαλία—healthy, life-giving teaching—and the corrupting influence of human traditions elevated to divine status (Mark 7:6–9; Colossians 2:20–23; Titus 1:14).

1. Worship in Song

Sound (Healthy) Doctrine:

Believers are urged to teach, encourage, and edify one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing “with grace in your hearts to the Lord” (Ephesians 5:19; Colossians 3:16).

• The focus is the mutual edification, the heart, and Christ.

• The method is flexible, cultural, and circumstantial.

Unsound (Legalistic) Doctrine:

Elevating man-made musical rules to divine status:

• “You must only sing without instruments.”

• “You must only sing with instruments.”

• “You must only sing approved songs.”

• “You must sing at these specific times, in this specific manner, under this specific human authority.”

Why this is unsound:

Because the New Testament never legislates the method—only the purpose and heart. To bind a method is to replace God’s simple command with human tradition (Matthew 15:3–9).

2. The Lord’s Supper

Sound Doctrine:

Believers are instructed to gather, share food, break bread, drink the cup, and remember the Lord’s death “in a worthy manner”—meaning with sincerity, discernment, and unity (1 Corinthians 11:23–29).

• The emphasis is remembrance, proclamation, and communal fellowship (Acts 2:42, 46).

• The setting is flexible: homes, small gatherings, large assemblies.

Unsound Doctrine:

Legalistic forms include:

• “You must receive a pinch of bread and sip of juice under the supervision of a priest.”

• “You must observe it only on our denominational calendar.”

• “You must use this specific kind of bread and this specific cup in this specific liturgical ritual.”

• “Only ordained clergy may administer it.”

• “You must do this every Sunday and only on Sunday.”

Why this is unsound:

Because the New Testament places the memorial in the hands of believers, not professionalized clergy or institutional rituals. When human systems replace the Lord’s simplicity, Paul’s warning about “the commandments of men” (Titus 1:14) applies.

3. Conversion, Faith, and Baptism

Sound Doctrine:

The gospel call is simple and universal: repent, believe, and be baptized (Acts 2:38; Acts 16:31–33; Romans 10:9–10; Galatians 3:26–27).

• Faith is toward Christ.

• Baptism is the public, embodied confession of that faith (1 Peter 3:21).

Unsound Doctrine:

Legalistic distortions include:

• Insisting the “magic moment” of salvation is when one recites a man-made “sinner’s prayer.”

• Insisting the “magic moment” is when one is physically immersed, as if the timing itself holds mechanical power.

• Creating denominational formulas for exactly how, when, or by whom baptism must be administered.

Why this is unsound:

Because the New Testament locates salvation in Christ Himself, not in precise human rituals about the moment one crosses the line. When the emphasis shifts from Christ to method, the teaching ceases to be healthy and becomes legalistic superstition.

4. Assembling Together

Sound Doctrine:

Believers are urged not to abandon gathering together (Hebrews 10:24–25).

• They may meet in homes (Acts 2:46), public buildings (Acts 19:9), or wherever circumstances allow.

• The goal is encouragement, fellowship, and shared devotion.

Unsound Doctrine:

Man-made requirements such as:

• “You must be in our church building on Sunday morning, or you have forsaken Christ.”

• “You must be a registered member of our denomination or your assembly does not count.”

• “Home churches are invalid unless overseen by our institutional structure.”

Why this is unsound:

Because the New Testament nowhere binds buildings, membership rolls, or denominational oversight. It commands meeting, not bureaucracy. It calls for fellowship, not institutional compliance.

5. Additional Examples Against Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant Legalisms

These examples are not to attack individuals—only to illustrate how human traditions frequently overshadow Scripture, precisely as Paul warned (Colossians 2:8; Matthew 15:9).

A. Catholic and Orthodox examples

• Requiring prayers to saints or reliance on intermediaries when Scripture says there is one Mediator—Christ (1 Timothy 2:5).

• Elevating sacred tradition to equal authority with Scripture, contrary to the apostolic warning against “traditions of men” (Colossians 2:8).

• Binding sacramental rituals that Scripture never legislates in those forms.

B. Protestant examples

• Making church attendance valid only in denominationally approved buildings.

• Binding forms of worship (e.g., exact orders of service, translations, clothing styles).

• Treating confessions or catechisms as though they are equal to Scripture.

• Weaponizing doctrines like “church membership,” “approved worship,” or “authorized leadership structures” as tests of salvation.

In every case:

When a human structure, custom, or tradition becomes a binding law, it ceases to be sound doctrine and becomes precisely what Paul condemns—“fables,” “traditions,” and “teachings of men” standing in the place of Christ (Titus 1:14; Colossians 2:20–23; Matthew 15:9). BDD

SOUND DOCTRINE: HEALTHY TEACHING NOT HUMAN LEGALISM

There is a danger, subtle yet real, that some twist the Word to defend their own rules, traditions, or human institutions. They point to 2 Timothy 4:3–5 as if “sound doctrine” means following their commandments or embracing their denominational teachings. But the Bible itself makes the issue clear: sound doctrine is not a collection of human regulations or man-made systems; it is healthy teaching that nourishes the soul, corrects error, and aligns the heart with Christ (Hebrews 5:14). It builds life, faith, and obedience—not control, pride, or mere outward conformity.

The passage warns that the time will come when people will reject this true, life-giving teaching, seeking instead teachers to satisfy their own desires. Those with itching ears do not long for correction or spiritual growth; they long for affirmation of their own ideas, their preferred rules, and their favorite traditions (Matthew 15:9). They heap up voices that confirm their pet doctrines, thinking that man-made commandments are God’s Word, while turning away from the correction and clarity of Scripture. The result is confusion, wandering, and devotion to fables instead of life-giving truth (Titus 1:14).

The antidote is vigilance and fidelity to God’s Word. Paul instructs us to stand watch, endure hardship, and do the work of ministry faithfully (2 Timothy 4:5). Healthy teaching is rooted in Christ and His Word, not in human opinion, denominational loyalty, or legalistic tradition. It feeds, corrects, and equips the believer; it sets hearts free rather than binding them in chains of man-made rules (John 8:32). True teachers proclaim Scripture faithfully, pointing every soul to Christ, not to the commandments or customs of men.

Let us beware of the temptation to treat human traditions as doctrine, and let us hunger instead for sound, nourishing, life-giving teaching. The difference is profound: one enslaves and deceives; the other transforms and restores. May we embrace the Word for what it is—alive, powerful, and sufficient—and reject the fables that itching ears seek to heap upon us.

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“THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES” — A Christian Reflection

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes—recorded by Bobby Vee in 1962—carries a haunting reminder that nothing we do stays hidden; the lyrics paint a world where even the shadows report the truth, where a thousand unseen watchers testify to who we truly are . And though the song speaks of human betrayal, it echoes something far deeper—something Scripture has whispered for ages—that the God who forms the darkness sees with perfect clarity, that “darkness and light are both alike to Him” (Psalm 139:12). In this, the song becomes more than a pop melody; it becomes a parable, reminding us that the night itself cannot hide us from the One who loves us.

And yet—how comforting it is that God’s eyes are not like the suspicious eyes of the world. The song warns the unfaithful lover that every lie will be exposed, and indeed, the Bible tells us that “all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:13). But unlike the cold watchers of the night, God’s gaze is warm with mercy; He sees our failures, our stumblings, our wanderings, and still invites us back with gentle persistence, for His eyes “run to and fro…to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose hearts are loyal to Him” (2 Chronicles 16:9). Where the song speaks of exposure, Christ speaks of redemption.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to live honestly before God—to walk in the light even when no one else is watching, to let integrity guide us when the crowd is gone and the night grows quiet. For life in Christ is not a performance for the thousand eyes of the world—it is a daily offering to the One whose vision penetrates the soul with love, whose truth frees us rather than shames us (John 8:32). And in this freedom, we learn that the only eyes that truly matter are the eyes of the Shepherd who calls us by name, who walks with us through valleys, and who never takes His gaze of grace away (Psalm 23:1–4).

So as you hear Bobby Vee sing those haunting lines—remember the deeper truth they unintentionally echo. Yes, the night has a thousand eyes, but the One who sees us best sees us with compassion; and the God who watches us also keeps us, restores us, and leads us. And when we live with this awareness—with this sacred mindfulness—every moment becomes holy, every decision becomes worship, and every step becomes a journey in the gentle light of His presence.

Lord Jesus, let Your loving eyes guide my steps today—steady my heart, cleanse my motives, and keep me walking in Your light. Search me, shape me, and strengthen me, that I may honor You in the hidden places as well as the public ones. And let Your presence be the brightest thing in every shadow I face.

BDD

“NO ONE WITH A SCIENTIFIC OR LOGICAL MIND BELIEVES THAT THE DEVIL IS REAL!” (Oh, Really?)

“I have never known anyone with a scientific or analytical or logical mind who believes in the devil.”

Nice to meet you.

For I, with a mind that can observe patterns, follow evidence, cling to reason, and love the symmetry of logic, still confess without embarrassment—there is a devil, an adversary, a malignant personality whose fingerprints stain the edges of human history. And reason itself, if pursued honestly, will whisper the same conclusion. The Bible confirms this reality. Jesus speaks of the enemy who “comes only to steal and kill and destroy” (John 10:10), and Peter describes him as a prowling lion, hungry and restless (1 Peter 5:8). But before we look at Scripture, let us look at the world; for the world testifies loudly.

One of the most basic principles of reason—one even Asimov would tip his hat toward—is that effects demand causes. We see hatred erupting with unnatural ferocity; we see cruelty that defies evolutionary benefit; we see destruction that offers no survival advantage; we see the strange and chilling unity of evil across cultures, centuries, and civilizations. The same patterns appear in Babylon, in Rome, in Berlin, in modern cities glowing beneath neon lights; they appear in the quiet sins of the heart and in the public horrors of war. Such universal moral darkness does not behave like mere human error—it behaves like a contagion with an intelligence. Paul hinted at this when he spoke of “the rulers of the darkness of this age” (Ephesians 6:12), but even without his words the logic stands: persistent patterns of coordinated evil point to something personal, persistent, and dark.

And consider consciousness—this mysterious flame the scientific mind cannot reduce to chemistry without losing its glow. If the human mind is more than matter—if love, yearning, hope, and moral conviction are real—then it is logically consistent, not absurd, to acknowledge other minds beyond the material realm. The unseen is not irrational; it is simply unmeasured. Gravity was unseen long before it was understood; electricity was unseen long before it was harnessed; dark matter still eludes eyes but shapes galaxies. Why should a spiritual world be dismissed simply because the instruments of our age have not yet learned how to listen? Jesus Himself declared that “God is Spirit” (John 4:24), and where there is a realm of spirit, there is room—reasonably, logically—for both angels and fallen angels.

Then look at the moral architecture within the human soul—a law written inwardly, a compass pointing somewhere beyond ourselves. Why does the conscience speak in a voice not our own? Why does temptation feel like an external pull rather than a mere malfunction of neurons? Why does evil sometimes arrive with timing, precision, and persuasion as though whispered by a strategist? Scripture describes the tempter who comes “at an opportune time” (Luke 4:13), but human experience alone suggests that moral conflict is not merely biological—it is tactical. Something pushes back when we lean toward goodness. Something applauds silently when we drift toward harm. Something studies us.

Finally, reason demands that we acknowledge what history has already shown: wherever humanity denies the existence of objective evil, evil grows bolder; wherever we declare the enemy mythical, the enemy marches unhindered. Jesus spoke of the devil as a murderer from the beginning (John 8:44), yet even apart from His words we need only listen to the cries rising from suffering nations, broken families, ruined lives, and addicted souls. Something is orchestrating the worst of what we are. Something ancient. Something malevolent. Something real.

So yes—nice to meet you.

I am scientific, analytical, logical, and unashamed.

And reason leads me to affirm what Scripture seals: there is a devil, an adversary, an accuser, and a destroyer—but also a defeated foe, crushed beneath the heel of the risen Christ (Romans 16:20).

BDD

THE SPIRIT WHO GIVES LIFE

The Spirit of God has always been moving—hovering over the waters in the beginning, breathing life into creation, whispering truth through prophets, and filling hearts with holy fire. From Genesis to Revelation, His presence marks the heartbeat of God’s work among men. Wherever the Spirit moves, death yields to life, despair gives way to hope, and dry ground blossoms again.

In the Old Testament, we see the Spirit at work in promise and power. The prophets spoke of His coming as rain upon the wilderness. Isaiah said, “The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon Him—the Spirit of wisdom and understanding” (Isaiah 11:2). Ezekiel heard God say, “I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes” (Ezekiel 36:27). Joel declared, “I will pour out My Spirit on all flesh” (Joel 2:28). The same breath that hovered over the deep in creation now enters the hearts of the redeemed in new creation.

Few scenes portray this better than Ezekiel’s vision in the valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37:1–14). The prophet stands amid lifeless remains—symbols of a people without hope. Yet when God commands him to speak, the bones begin to rattle, the sinews stretch, the flesh returns, and finally the breath of God fills them. What was once dead stands alive, an army raised by the Spirit’s breath. So it is with every believer who receives the Spirit of Christ. We who were dead in sin are made alive unto God, not by effort, but by the indwelling breath of Heaven.

In the New Testament, the promise becomes personal. Jesus calls the Spirit a Helper, Teacher, and Comforter (John 14:26). He guided first century men into all truth (John 16:13). Today, He fills us with divine love (Romans 5:5), and empowers us to live and share Christ boldly, in principle the way He did the apostles of Christ (Acts 1:8). Paul reminds us that we are temples of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 3:16), that the Spirit intercedes when words fail (Romans 8:26), and that His fruit is love, joy, peace, and all that reflects the life of Christ (Galatians 5:22–23). The same power that raised Jesus from the dead now works in us to produce holiness and strength.

Discipleship without the Spirit becomes labor without life. But when the Spirit fills us, the Christian walk ceases to be duty and becomes delight. The Spirit does not make us perfect overnight, but He makes us alive. And in that life, Christ is formed within. Let us yield daily to His quiet leading, letting His wind blow through every thought and desire, until our hearts echo the faith of Ezekiel’s valley: “Thus says the Lord God…I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live.”

Holy Spirit of Christ, breathe upon me again. Move within the dry valleys of my heart and make them green with Your life. Teach me to walk in Your ways, to love as Christ loved, and to live in constant fellowship with You. May every word I speak and every step I take bear the fruit of Your presence. Fill me, renew me, and make me a vessel through whom the breath of Heaven flows. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Bryan Dewayne Dunaway

WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE?

It is a question that gnaws at every human heart sooner or later—why do bad things happen to good people? It presses upon us with an unrelenting weight, for we know the goodness of God and we feel the misery of the world; we see the innocent suffer, the faithful bear burdens, the righteous tested, and we wonder—how can this be, and yet God remain just and holy? As the psalmist cried, “Why, O Lord, do You stand afar off? Why do You hide in times of trouble?” (Psalm 10:1).

One of the most troubling questions is this: why would a good God allow evil, pain, and suffering to dwell in His creation? How can a loving Father permit the innocent to cry, the faithful to fall, the righteous to endure trials they never asked for? Job wrestled with this, saying, “Why is life given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in?” (Job 3:23). And yet, Scripture never turns away from our anguish; it points unerringly to the cross, where the answer is revealed not in words alone, but in the suffering of the One who is truly good.

For the only time a truly good person bore the worst imaginable suffering—was when Jesus Christ died. The Son of God, holy, sinless, betrayed, beaten, mocked, and nailed to the accursed tree (Isaiah 53:3–5). The Lord of Glory, the One who held the stars in His hands, was struck down by the sins of the world (2 Corinthians 5:21). Yet in His agony, He did not falter in love; He did not forsake His purpose; He did not cease to care. He is the ultimate Good, bearing the ultimate Bad, that we might live.

Here is where hope rises even from the shadow of despair: the Christian life does not promise freedom from hardship, nor the absence of sorrow, nor that the righteous shall escape suffering. But it does promise an ever-present Helper, a Shepherd who knows every pain, a Savior who walks with us through every valley (Psalm 23:4). As the writer of Hebrews declares, “For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Jesus Himself, fully God and fully man, is with us in every trial.

Therefore, when bad things happen to good people, we lift our eyes to Calvary; we see Jesus—God incarnate, sinless, yet suffering—who turned the sting of evil into the gateway of salvation (1 Corinthians 15:55–57). As believers we do not minimize suffering, but we trust a God who is good, who redeems suffering, and who walks with us one cross at a time. And in that trust, even the darkest questions begin to have a glimmer of light.

Lord Jesus, my Good Shepherd and faithful High Priest, I come to You weary and burdened, perplexed by the trials of life and the weight of suffering; grant me grace to trust Your goodness even when my eyes cannot see, to cling to Your love even when the world strikes hard, and to rest in the shadow of Your cross where every sorrow is known and every pain is redeemed; shape my heart by Your presence, strengthen my faith by Your Spirit, and let me walk each day leaning on Your mercy, until I see fully the glory You have prepared for those who love You. Amen.

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AS LONG AS I CAN SEE THE LIGHT

There is something haunting and deeply human in Creedence Clearwater Revival’s classic, As Long as I Can See the Light—a song that drifts like a weary traveler’s prayer. CCR, with John Fogerty’s unmistakable, soulful voice, often carried the grit and honesty of everyday life; their music felt like dust roads, quiet nights, swamps for lovers, and hearts longing to find their way home. And this song—slow, yearning, tender—speaks of wandering yet never losing sight of the light that guides, welcomes, and calls the traveler back.

That genius, Fogerty, hinted, I believe, that the song was about being on the road yet always keeping the light of home burning in his heart. There is a longing for belonging woven through every word—a desire to return, a hope that someone will leave the light on until he finds his way. And in that simple picture—so earthy and so human—our souls hear an even deeper truth; for the Christian walk is a journey, sometimes tired, sometimes stumbling, always in need of a Light beyond ourselves.

Jesus said plainly, beautifully, authoritatively, “I am the Light of the world” (John 8:12). He is the shining certainty in our shadows, the lamp for our feet, the One who pulls us through the fog of doubt, the One who welcomes us even when we wander. And as long as we can see His light—no matter how faint our faith feels, no matter how far we think we’ve drifted—we are not lost. The soul that looks to Christ is never abandoned, never forsaken, never denied the path home.

Paul echoes this hope when he says that “we all, with unveiled face, behold the glory of the Lord, and we are being transformed into His same image from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18). As long as we keep our eyes fixed upon Him—as long as His radiance stays before us—something glorious is happening within us; we are being reshaped, renewed, re-formed into the likeness of the One who saved us. His light does not merely guide us—it changes us. It reaches into the darkest rooms of the heart and fills them with grace.

So the song whispers a truth the Scriptures shout—keep your eyes on the Light. Keep Jesus before you, steady and bright; keep His Word alive in your heart; keep His presence close, even when your steps feel slow. For the Light of the world is not merely a distant glow; He is the God who walks with us, the Savior who stays by our side, the Lord who leads us home, again and again, until wandering gives way to worship and the journey finally ends in His everlasting embrace.

And as long as we can see the Light—we will make it. His grace will carry us. His radiance will guide us. His glory will transform us from glory to glory, until all shadows fade in the brightness of His face.

Lord Jesus, Light of the world, keep my eyes fixed on Your shining presence as I walk this winding path. Let Your radiance guide my steps and steady my heart when I feel weary or far from home. Transform me, Lord, from glory to glory, as long as I can see Your light. Amen.

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HOW COULD JESUS BE BOTH GOD AND MAN?

The question rises softly yet urgently—how could Jesus Christ be both God and man—how could the Eternal clothe Himself in mortality, how could the Infinite walk among the finite, how could the Word take on flesh and dwell with us, full of grace and truth (John 1:14). The answer does not come in cold logic only, though logic supports it; it comes in the warm revelation of Scripture, where the Lord shows Himself as He truly is. From everlasting to everlasting He is God—and yet, in the fullness of time, He stepped into the very world His hands had fashioned (Galatians 4:4).

He is God, for the Scriptures declare that “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God”—not lesser, not created, but God Himself, eternally existing, eternally radiant (John 1:1). He receives worship as only God may; Thomas fell before Him and said with trembling adoration, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28). He forgives sins with sovereign freedom (Mark 2:5–7); He commands the winds with effortless authority (Mark 4:39–41). Everything about Him bears the scent of deity, the weight of eternity, the majesty of the One seated above all.

Yet He is man—gloriously, mysteriously, perfectly man. He came not as a phantom, not as an illusion, but as a child born of woman, wrapped in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger, growing in wisdom and stature and favor with God and men (Luke 2:7, 52). He hungered in the wilderness, He grew weary at Jacob’s well, He wept at Lazarus’s tomb, He suffered under Pontius Pilate; every fiber of His earthly life was authentic humanity. He was “made like His brethren in all things,” able to sympathize with every weakness, able to stand where we stand, yet stunningly—beautifully—without sin (Hebrews 2:17; Hebrews 4:15).

This union of God and man—what the early Christians called the Incarnation—is no contradiction but a miracle, a mystery we receive with reverence. The Word did not cease to be God; He did not surrender His deity—He added to Himself something He had never possessed before: true humanity. “Though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor,” stepping down into our condition without relinquishing His divine nature (2 Corinthians 8:9). Two natures, unmixed yet inseparable; one Person, Jesus Christ the Lord—Son of God, Son of Man.

And why did He take on flesh—why did God walk among us—why did the Sovereign stoop so low? He came to save, to redeem, to lift us from the dust of our sins and draw us into the life of God. Only One who was truly man could bear our guilt; only One who was truly God could bear it away. He became our Mediator, the bridge over the gulf, the ladder between earth and heaven—“for there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 2:5). The cross required deity and humanity woven perfectly into one Person, for salvation required nothing less than God entering our world and giving Himself for us.

So we bow before the Holy Mystery—Jesus Christ, God in flesh, man without sin, Savior without rival. We marvel that the Creator walked among His creation with sandaled feet, that the Ancient of Days carried a carpenter’s tools, that the One who spoke galaxies into existence allowed wicked hands to crucify Him—because love demanded it, because grace overflowed, because the heart of God beats for the salvation of His people (Romans 5:8). And as we behold Him—God and man—our hearts rest, our faith steadies, our hope rises; for in Him heaven and earth meet, justice and mercy embrace, and sinners like us find life everlasting.

Lord Jesus, eternal God who stepped into our frail humanity, draw my heart to worship the wonder of Your coming. Let the mystery of Your divinity and Your true humanity steady my faith and deepen my love. Teach me to rest in the truth that You became like us to save us and now walk with us in compassion. Hold me close, God-in-the-flesh, and let Your incarnate grace shape my life today. Amen.

THE DANGER OF TWISTED SCRIPTURE — AND THE CALL TO HANDLE IT WELL

One of the greatest challenges facing the people of God today is the ease with which Scripture can be twisted; a verse lifted from its context can be used to defend almost anything, and a passage read carelessly can become the foundation for entire systems of error. Peter warned that some distort Paul’s writings — and by extension all Scripture — to their own destruction (2 Peter 3:16). The danger is real, and the consequences are sobering; whenever the word is bent to serve human agendas, the truth of Christ is clouded, and souls are led astray.

Yet Scripture itself teaches us that this twisting is nothing new; even in the garden, the serpent tried to manipulate God’s words, questioning His goodness and reshaping His commands (Genesis 3:1–5). Jesus faced the same tactic when Satan quoted Scripture to tempt Him, using truth torn from its setting to justify disobedience (Matthew 4:6–7). The enemy has always known that the most effective lies are half-truths — verses misapplied, commands misunderstood, promises misplaced. The church must therefore remain discerning, testing every teaching and examining every claim (1 Thessalonians 5:21).

But while Scripture can be mishandled, it can also be handled well — faithfully, reverently, correctly. Paul urged Timothy to present himself as a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth (2 Timothy 2:15). This “right dividing” is not mechanical; it is spiritual and moral — reading the text with humility, observing its context, honoring its purpose, and allowing Scripture to interpret Scripture. When the heart is pure and the motive is love for Christ, the word becomes a lamp that truly guides rather than a tool that misleads (Psalm 119:105).

Handling Scripture correctly also means hearing it as the living voice of God, not as a weapon to win arguments or a quarry from which we mine proof-texts. James calls us to receive the implanted word with meekness because it alone can save the soul and shape the life (James 1:21). We approach the text not as masters but as disciples; not seeking to force it into our systems, but allowing it to confront us — to rebuke, correct, and teach us — so that we may be complete in Christ (2 Timothy 3:16–17). When our posture is teachable, the Scriptures become a well of wisdom instead of a battlefield of opinions.

Therefore let us guard our hearts, handle the Scriptures with integrity, and refuse the lazy reading that leads to error. Let us read broadly and deeply, holding passages in their context and doctrines in their balance, knowing that the Spirit who inspired the word also illumines the humble mind (1 Corinthians 2:12–13). And in all our study, let us remember that the aim of Scripture is not to win debates but to reveal Jesus Christ — the Word made flesh — who leads His people in truth, and who promises that those who continue in His teaching will know the truth that sets them free (John 8:31–32).

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ASSEMBLING WITH BELIEVERS FOR ENCOURAGEMENT — NOT JUST “GOING TO CHURCH”

There is a world of difference between merely attending a service and truly assembling with the people of God; one is physical presence, the other is spiritual participation. Scripture calls us to draw near with sincere hearts, holding fast our hope, and stirring one another toward love and good works (Hebrews 10:22–24). When we gather in this spirit — hearts open, burdens shared, praises rising — we taste something deeper than routine; we step into the living fellowship Christ designed for His people.

The early believers did not simply “go to church”; they devoted themselves to one another, continuing steadfastly in teaching, in fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in prayers (Acts 2:42). Their gatherings were not motions to be performed but life to be lived, grace to be exchanged, comfort to be poured out, and strength to be replenished. In that atmosphere of shared devotion, fear dissolved, boldness appeared, and joy overflowed — because God meets His people most richly when they meet one another sincerely.

True assembling is an act of holy mutuality; I bring my faith to encourage yours, and you bring your hope to lift mine. Paul reminded the Romans that he longed to see them so they might be mutually strengthened by one another’s faith (Romans 1:11–12). Something beautiful happens when Christians gather not as spectators but as family — walls fall, peace settles, and courage rises, because each person becomes a vessel through whom Christ ministers His presence.

When we merely attend, we often leave unchanged — but when we assemble, we arrive expectant and depart renewed. The writer urges us not to neglect meeting together, especially as the Day draws near, for these gatherings are meant to uphold weary hearts and awaken sleeping souls (Hebrews 10:25). The enemy loves isolated believers, but he trembles when he sees Christians refusing to walk alone, choosing instead the shared strength of fellowship and love.

Assembling also anchors us in accountability — gentle, loving, redemptive accountability — where brothers and sisters help us walk in the light as He is in the light (1 John 1:7). When we gather honestly, without masks or pretenses, we find grace in abundance; confession becomes healing, burdens become lighter, and the fellowship becomes a refuge where Christ’s compassion is made visible and tangible.

So let us come together with intention; not to satisfy custom or soothe conscience, but to breathe in the encouragement of God’s people and breathe out the encouragement they need. Let us draw near, listen deeply, give freely, and love generously — trusting that Christ Himself walks among the lampstands, strengthening those who gather in His name (Revelation 1:12–13). When the assembly becomes more than a habit, it becomes a lifeline; and in that sacred rhythm, Christ shapes us, comforts us, and sends us back into the world with renewed hearts.

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WE’RE AMAZING—BECAUSE GRACE IS AMAZING

Keb’ Mo’ sings with honesty about frailty, struggle, and the quiet courage it takes to get back up again. His words echo something deeply biblical—this sense that we are broken and blessed at the same time, that we fall yet rise, that we carry scars but also shine with God’s mercy. Scripture says, “We have this treasure in earthen vessels” (2 Corinthians 4:7). We are fragile jars of clay, yet God chooses to put His glory inside us. That mixture of weakness and wonder is what makes life—every life—amazing.

In Christ, we are never defined by our failures. The world may point to what we lack, but God points to what He gives. “By the grace of God I am what I am” (1 Corinthians 15:10). His grace does not erase our humanity; it redeems it. Keb’ Mo’ sings about standing tall even when life knocks you down, and the gospel takes that truth deeper: “The righteous may fall seven times and rise again” (Proverbs 24:16). You are amazing—not because you never stumble, but because God keeps lifting you, shaping you, forgiving you, and using you.

So say it in faith today—not as pride but as praise: “I’m amazing, because His grace is amazing.” Let that truth seep into your spirit. God calls you His workmanship (Ephesians 2:10), His beloved (Colossians 3:12), His chosen one (1 Peter 2:9). He is not finished with you, and He is not ashamed of you. The same God who brings music out of sorrow and hope out of heartbreak is writing a song in your life too—a song that says, even in my weakness, He makes me strong… and that makes me amazing.

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WHEN EXAMPLES BECOME LAW: A Reflection on True Biblical Authority

There is a quiet temptation in the human heart to turn every detail of Scripture into a rule. We crave certainty. We fear freedom. We sometimes prefer a system over a Savior. This leads some believers to treat every New Testament example as if it were a binding command, as though whatever the early church did in one moment must be repeated in every moment.

Yet the Scriptures never teach this. The New Testament calls us to obey Christ’s clear commands and to walk by faith, hope, and love, but it never tells us to convert every historical action into a law. When we do that, we place a burden on the conscience that the Lord Himself never laid upon His people.

The inspired examples of the New Testament are precious and instructive, but inspiration does not automatically create legislation. The apostles themselves acted differently in different contexts, not because they lacked conviction, but because the gospel allows flexibility where it is not compromised and where the Lord has not spoken directly. Paul circumcised Timothy in one place (Acts 16:3), yet refused to circumcise Titus in another (Galatians 2:3–5). He ate whatever was set before him among Gentiles (1 Corinthians 10:27), yet urged sensitivity around weaker consciences among Jews (1 Corinthians 9:20–22). He traveled by varying means, taught in synagogues, houses, schools, and open spaces, and adapted to the needs before him. If every apostolic action were binding, then every variation would become a contradiction. The New Testament itself shows that examples are descriptive (they tell us what happened) rather than prescriptive (commanding or prescibing a rule) unless the Lord explicitly makes them a command.

The apostles—and the Spirit who inspired them—give us careful warnings about elevating human deductions to divine authority. Jesus rebuked those who taught as doctrines the commandments of men (Matthew 15:9), and Paul cautioned believers not to be held captive by human tradition or man-made rules (Colossians 2:8; Colossians 2:20–23). He taught that the kingdom of God is not a matter of food and drink but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17). He declared that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty (2 Corinthians 3:17).

A necessary inference, no matter how reasonable it may appear, is still a human inference; it is not a divine command. Logic is helpful, but logic is not lord. Christ alone is Lord. To elevate our deductions to the level of His commandments is to create a new law that the apostles never taught and the Spirit never inspired.

True obedience is not found in binding every example; it is found in obeying what the Lord actually commands. The New Testament clearly instructs us to repent and believe the gospel (Mark 1:15), to be baptized into Christ (Acts 2:38), to love one another (John 13:34), to proclaim the Word (2 Timothy 4:2), to partake of the Lord’s Supper in remembrance of Him (1 Corinthians 11:24–26), and to walk by the Spirit (Galatians 5:16). These stand across every age because they are given as explicit commands, not merely shown in isolated circumstances.

Meanwhile, the gatherings of the churches differed from place to place; the frequency of meetings varied; the methods of teaching shifted; the locations changed as needed; and the Spirit guided the church through wisdom, charity, and adaptability. Scripture presents this variety not as disorder but as the natural movement of a living body under the direction of a living Lord.

Christ’s yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:28–30). The Lord has not placed His people in a maze of deductions but on a clear path of faith. When we refuse to bind examples as laws, we honor both the Scriptures and the Savior. We embrace the liberty of the Spirit. We hold fast to the doctrines that are truly apostolic. And we walk with confidence, knowing that our obedience rests not on human inference but on the voice of Christ who calls His sheep by name and leads them gently in the way everlasting.

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IF YOU WANT TO GET TECHNICAL ABOUT IT: Examples Are Not Binding

Some believers insist they are merely seeking “Bible authority,” yet their method relies on turning incidental actions in Scripture into universal commands. They preach a system that takes narrative moments and converts them into binding patterns, elevating examples into laws. But if one truly wants to “get technical,” both Scripture and sound reasoning show that this approach collapses under its own weight.

I. The New Testament Speaks in Commands, Not Coded Patterns

The New Testament does not hide its commands; it proclaims them plainly. When the apostles intend to bind something, they use imperative verbs. When they simply report events, they use indicatives.

This distinction is built into the Greek grammar of the Spirit-inspired text. An imperative (ἐντολή, entolē—command, John 14:15) communicates a duty. An indicative states what happened. No responsible interpreter confuses the two. Yet the binding-example approach claims that the form of the narrative (indicative) can carry the force of the imperative. That is linguistically indefensible.

Scripture consistently treats apostolic commands as commands and apostolic actions as actions. Paul says, “I command…not I but the Lord” (1 Corinthians 7:10). He distinguishes this from his judgment or example (1 Corinthians 7:12, 25, 40). Luke reports what the church did when circumstances required it (Acts 2:46; Acts 20:7; Acts 21:26), yet never marks these historical details as laws for future generations.

If the Spirit intended examples to be binding, the Spirit would have said so. He never does.

II. Apostolic Flexibility Destroys the Binding-Examples Theory

Those who bind examples must face a devastating dilemma: the apostles themselves did not follow one unchanging pattern.

Paul circumcised Timothy (Acts 16:3), yet refused to circumcise Titus (Galatians 2:3–5). He kept Jewish customs among Jews (1 Corinthians 9:20), yet lived freely among Gentiles (1 Corinthians 9:21). He observed certain days at times (Acts 20:16), yet taught others that such observances were optional matters of liberty (Romans 14:5–6; Colossians 2:16–17). He met with believers on the first day of the week (Acts 20:7), yet also taught “daily in the marketplace” (Acts 17:17) and “from house to house” (Acts 20:20).

If all examples are binding, every variation becomes a contradiction. No reasonable interpretation can force contradictory examples into universal rules. The apostles themselves moved freely under the guidance of the Spirit, and any theory that denies their Spirit-led freedom collapses immediately.

III. If Examples Are Binding, Then Absurdities Become Law

Those who claim “we must follow the pattern” must explain why they do not follow all patterns. The logic, when consistently applied, demands absurdity.

SYLLOGISM 1:

1. All apostolic examples are binding.

2. The apostles traveled, taught, ate, preached, met, and served in dozens of different ways.

3. Therefore, all Christians must do all these things in all these ways—a practical impossibility.

SYLLOGISM 2:

1. If an example is binding, then the context is irrelevant.

2. But every example in Acts is context-driven—persecution, geography, culture, missions, and circumstance.

3. Therefore, binding examples requires divorcing Scripture from its God-given context.

This is not reverent. It is reckless.

No serious reader would treat any other document this way—not a constitution, not a contract, not a letter, not a piece of literature. Yet some claim the Lord of glory constructed the most important document in human history in a way no reasonable communicator would ever employ.

This dishonors the very God whose Word they claim to defend.

IV. The New Testament Reveals the Real Basis of Authority

The New Testament grounds authority not in examples but in:

• Direct commands (ἐντολαί) — John 14:21

• Doctrinal teachings — 2 Timothy 3:16–17

• Apostolic traditions delivered in words — 2 Thessalonians 2:15

• Moral principles — Galatians 5:13–26

• The law of love — Romans 13:8–10

Examples illustrate these truths but do not legislate them.

Paul explicitly denies that human inference creates divine obligation: “Who are you to judge another’s servant?” (Romans 14:4). “Let no one judge you…in food, drink, festivals, or days” (Colossians 2:16). “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty” (2 Corinthians 3:17).

If examples were binding, there would be no liberty—only endless chains of deductions.

V. Commands Are Clear Because Christ Is Merciful

The gospel is not a scavenger hunt. It is not a cryptic puzzle. It is not a legal maze built out of narrative clues. When Christ calls His people to obey Him, He speaks with clarity, not obscurity.

The Lord who died for sinners is not the Lord who hides His will behind textual riddles.

He gives commands that are unmistakable.

He gives principles meant to guide every generation.

He gives freedom where He chooses not to command.

Those who trust Him do not treat every example as law; they trust that He has spoken where He intends to bind and remained silent where He intends to free.

A rigid, example-based system is not biblical, not logical, not grammatical, and not consistent with apostolic freedom. It creates burdens the New Testament never created. It mistakes narration for legislation. It elevates human inference above divine command. And it turns the living gospel into a dead code.

If anyone truly wants to “get technical about it,” the case is settled: Examples do not bind. Christ does. BDD

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL—AND SO AM I

The world is loud with voices that wound, yet the Scriptures speak a quieter truth—one strong enough to silence every lie. “I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). God did not create anyone by accident. He shaped each life with care. He breathed His image into every soul. He stamped eternal worth on every heart.

Christina Aguilera once sang that no matter what others say, “I am beautiful.” The Bible goes further and says why—because the God who made heaven and earth crafted you in His image (Genesis 1:27). The beauty He gives is not fragile or fading. It is not earned by performance or destroyed by critics. It is rooted in the love of Christ who “gave Himself for us” (Ephesians 5:2). If He thought you unworthy, He would not have died to redeem you.

In Christ, beauty is not vanity; it is identity. You are loved with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3). You are chosen, cherished, and called His workmanship—literally His masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10). When the world speaks words that crush, His voice speaks words that heal. “You are Mine” (Isaiah 43:1). That is beauty no mirror can measure and no insult can remove.

So say it in faith today—not from pride but from worship: “I am beautiful, and you are beautiful, because He made us, loves us, and lives in us.” Let this truth quiet the noise, lift your eyes, and anchor your heart in the One who makes all things new.

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PRAYER: THE SOUL’S CLIMB TOWARD GOD

Prayer is the mind lifted and the heart laid bare. It is the act by which weak humanity seeks strength from the Almighty. Scripture tells us that the Lord searches our hearts and understands every thought (Psalm 139:1–2). Nothing in us is hidden from Him. When we pray we step into holy honesty. We bring our questions, our burdens, our wandering thoughts, and our trembling hopes. Prayer becomes the soul’s admission that we are insufficient and that God alone is the fountain of wisdom and strength. True prayer is the slender nerve that moves the omnipotence of God, for it lays hold upon His promises.

Prayer is more than confession of need. It is the believer leaning into the love of Christ. The Lord hears the cry of the righteous (Psalm 34:15), and His ear is never dull to the whispers of His children. When anxiety presses against the mind and shadows fall across the path, the peace of God rises to guard the heart and mind through Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:6–7). In prayer the believer finds quiet rest. Here we speak to the One who knows our frame and remembers we are dust. Here grace flows gently, and the soul discovers fresh courage the way dawn slowly pushes away the night.

Prayer also forms discipline within the believer. Just as steady hands shape lasting work, steady prayer shapes a faithful life. The Lord commands His people to pray without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17), not by endless words but by a posture of dependence. Prayer trains the heart to trust and the will to obey. It cleanses the conscience, settles the spirit, and reminds us that earth is not our final home. The one who prays consistently learns to walk by heavenly rhythms. Each moment becomes an opportunity to incline the ear toward the Shepherd whose voice still guides His flock (John 10:27).

And prayer brings us to the feet of Christ Himself. He is our living High Priest who ever lives to make intercession for us (Hebrews 7:25). When we pray we are not sending words into an empty sky but approaching a throne of grace where mercy is abundant and help is near (Hebrews 4:16). The Spirit helps our weakness and carries our groanings upward (Romans 8:26). In this holy exchange the believer meets the Savior who bears our burdens and comforts our fears. Prayer becomes the clearest expression of faith. We speak to the unseen God because His love has made Him known in Christ, and in His presence the weary heart finds both rest and renewal.

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THE BIBLE AND MENTAL HEALTH

There is a quiet ache that runs through the human family. It whispers in the lonely hours. It lingers in troubled minds. It hides behind the forced smile and the polite greeting. Scripture does not ignore this ache. It enters it with the compassionate heart of God. From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible speaks to the storms within us and meets them with divine tenderness. The One who formed our minds understands their burdens. He draws near to the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18) and invites the weary to rest in Him (Matthew 11:28). These words reveal that mental heaviness is not foreign to faith. It is the very place where the gentleness of Christ shines brightest.

The Bible never shames the believer who struggles. Elijah sat under a juniper tree and prayed that he might die (1 Kings 19:4). David cried day and night and asked why his soul was cast down (Psalm 42:3; Psalm 42:11). Job cursed the day of his birth and could not understand his inner darkness (Job 3:1). These moments are not recorded as failures but as windows into the reality of human suffering. The Lord met each of these saints with compassion. He gave Elijah rest and nourishment (1 Kings 19:5–8). He steadied David through truth and presence (Psalm 23:4; Psalm 27:1). He answered Job out of the whirlwind and led him into deeper trust (Job 38:1; Job 42:5–6). The God who rules the heavens stoops to comfort the hurting.

Mental conflict often feels like warfare in the unseen places. Paul understood this. He admitted to being pressed on every side yet not crushed (2 Corinthians 4:8). He spoke of fears within and conflicts without (2 Corinthians 7:5). He acknowledged that anxiety weighed heavily on him daily (2 Corinthians 11:28), yet he pointed believers toward the peace of God that guards the heart and mind through Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7). This peace is not the absence of trouble; it is the presence of Christ in the midst of it. When thoughts race, the Spirit directs us toward what is true and noble and just (Philippians 4:8). The Word becomes an anchor for the inner life—reminding us of promises no darkness can extinguish.

The Bible teaches that believers flourish in community. God never designed His people to suffer alone. We are commanded to bear one another’s burdens and thus fulfill the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2). Two are better than one because if one falls the other lifts him up (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10). The early church prayed together, broke bread together, and strengthened one another daily (Acts 2:42–47; Hebrews 3:13). Isolation magnifies inner struggles; fellowship brings light into hidden places. When Christians speak Scripture with compassion—the weary find strength. When the church becomes a place of gentle honesty—the suffering discover hope.

Above all, Scripture points us to the healing presence of Christ. He is the Great Physician who restores the whole person (Mark 2:17). He binds wounds and heals the brokenhearted (Psalm 147:3). He renews the mind by His transforming grace (Romans 12:2). At the cross, He entered the depths of human anguish (Isaiah 53:3–5) and in the resurrection, He conquered every force that oppresses His people (Revelation 1:18). To belong to Christ is to belong to One who understands every sorrow and walks with us through every valley (Psalm 23:4). There is no mental burden too heavy for His shoulders and no night too dark for His light. He calls us to cast every care upon Him for He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). His grace is sufficient in weakness; His strength is made perfect in the places that feel most fragile (2 Corinthians 12:9).

The Bible and mental health belong together because the God of Scripture is the God who sees the heart. He knows the thoughts we cannot express. He holds the fears we dare not speak. He leads His children with patience and fills them with hope that does not disappoint (Romans 5:5). And He promises a day when every tear will be wiped away and every troubled mind will finally rest in His presence (Revelation 21:4).

BDD