THE DEEPER WAY OF HOLINESS

Holiness is often misunderstood. Many imagine it as distance from the world, a tightening of rules, or a grim determination to avoid visible sins. But the deeper way of holiness is not first about what we refuse; it is about who we love. It is not a retreat into cold restraint, but a drawing nearer to God until His life reshapes our own. True holiness begins not with the hands, but with the heart yielded fully to Him.

The Bible tells us plainly that God’s will for His people is sanctification (1 Thessalonians 4:3). This sanctification is not merely moral improvement; it is transformation. It is the slow, sacred work of God conforming us to the image of His Son. The deeper way is not found in outward conformity, but in inward renewal—where motives are purified, desires are reordered, and love is made sincere.

Jesus pressed this truth when He taught that purity is not only about external behavior, but about the inner life. He warned that anger nurtured in the heart carries the seed of murder, and lust entertained within carries the weight of adultery (Matthew 5:21-22; 27-28). He was not raising the bar to crush us; He was revealing how deeply God intends to heal us. Holiness is not God demanding perfection from a broken heart—it is God restoring the heart itself.

The deeper way of holiness is also a way of love. The Word of God declares that God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world so that we would be holy and blameless before Him in love (Ephesians 1:4). Love is not the alternative to holiness; it is the soil in which holiness grows. Where love for God deepens, obedience becomes less forced and more joyful. We begin to hate sin not merely because it is forbidden, but because it grieves the One we adore.

This deeper holiness requires abiding, not striving. Jesus taught that a branch bears fruit only by remaining in the vine, and that apart from Him we can do nothing (John 15:4-5). Holiness is fruit, not manufacture. It grows as we remain close to Christ—listening to His word, confessing our sins, trusting His grace, and walking daily in the light. The more we behold Him, the more our lives are quietly shaped into His likeness.

The deeper way of holiness is not dramatic or boastful. It is often hidden—seen in patience when provoked, humility when praised, faithfulness when unnoticed, mercy when wronged. It is a life steadily surrendered to God, confident that His grace is sufficient and His Spirit is at work even when progress feels slow. This is holiness that endures, because it is rooted not in human effort, but in divine love.

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Holy God, draw us beyond shallow religion into the deeper work of Your grace. Cleanse our hearts, shape our desires, and form Christ within us. Teach us to walk with You in quiet obedience and steadfast love. Amen.

BDD

FOLLOW AND TRUST JESUS

To follow Jesus is more than to admire Him from a distance; it is to leave the familiar ground beneath our feet and place our whole weight upon His word. Trust is not formed in the abstract—it is forged in the daily decisions of obedience, when the path ahead is unclear and the cost feels real. He does not merely call us to believe certain truths about Him; He calls us to come after Him, to walk where He walks, and to rest our lives in His faithfulness.

Jesus spoke plainly about the nature of discipleship. He said that anyone who desires to come after Him must deny himself, take up his cross each day, and follow Him (Luke 9:23). In that single sentence, the Lord reorients our understanding of life. Trusting Jesus means surrendering the illusion of control; following Him means accepting that the way of life often passes through sacrifice before it reaches glory. Yet this call is not harsh—it is honest. The One who asks us to lay down our lives is the same One who laid down His life for us.

Trust grows as we learn His heart. The Word of God tells us that Jesus is gentle and lowly in heart, inviting the weary and burdened to come to Him and find rest for their souls (Matthew 11:28-29). He does not manipulate or mislead. He does not promise ease, but He promises presence. He walks ahead of His people, not driving them with fear but drawing them with love. When we follow Him, we are never following blindly; we are following the Good Shepherd who knows the way because He is the way (John 14:6).

There will be moments when obedience feels costly and faith feels fragile. In those moments, we remember that trusting Jesus is not trusting our own strength, wisdom, or consistency. It is trusting His character. The apostle Paul reminds us that the Son of God loved us and gave Himself for us (Galatians 2:20). That love did not falter at the cross, and it will not falter in the ordinary trials of our lives. What He begins, He is faithful to complete.

To follow and trust Jesus, then, is to live with open hands—receiving His mercy, submitting to His lordship, and believing that even when the road is narrow, it leads to life. The world offers many voices, many shortcuts, many counterfeit hopes. Jesus alone offers Himself. And He is enough.

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Lord Jesus, teach us to trust You where we are tempted to fear, and to follow You where we are tempted to stay comfortable. Lead us in Your truth, hold us by Your grace, and keep our hearts fixed on You. Amen.

BDD

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE

Where do we go from here—after the shouting has exhausted us, after trust has thinned, after the lines have been drawn so sharply that even friends feel like strangers?

It is a fair question, and an urgent one.

The temptation is to look outward first—to new leaders, better systems, stronger arguments. But the Word of God consistently turns us inward before it sends us outward; it calls us to repentance before it calls us to reform.

We begin where we should have begun all along: with humility. God has never promised to heal a land simply because people are loud or convinced they are right. He promises healing when His people are honest before Him. He says that if His people, who bear His name, will humble themselves, pray, seek His face, and turn from their wicked ways, then He will hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land (2 Chronicles 7:14). Notice the order—humility first, repentance next, healing afterward. Skipping steps only deepens the wound.

From there, we return to the slow work of faithfulness. The kingdom of God rarely advances through spectacle; it grows like seed in the soil. Jesus said the kingdom is like a man who scatters seed on the ground; he sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how (Mark 4:26-27). We want immediate transformation; God often works through quiet obedience—through ordinary believers choosing truth over convenience, love over retaliation, patience over outrage.

We also relearn how to see one another. The world trains us to reduce people to labels; Christ teaches us to see neighbors. Jesus told us to love not only those who agree with us, but even our enemies, to pray for those who oppose us, so that we may reflect the character of our Father in heaven (Matthew 5:44-45). That command is not weakness; it is moral courage. A church that cannot love across differences has forgotten the cross that reconciled enemies to God.

Where do we go from here? We go back to the Gospel—not as a slogan, but as a way of life. Paul reminded the church that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and that He entrusted to us the message of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:18-19). If reconciliation is central to God’s work in the world, it must be central to ours as well. The church exists not to mirror the anger of the age, but to model a different way of being human.

And finally, we go forward in hope. Not optimism grounded in circumstances, but hope anchored in Christ. We fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who endured the cross, despised the shame, and now reigns in glory (Hebrews 12:2). History is not spiraling out of control; it is moving toward a promised end. The risen Christ is not pacing heaven in anxiety. He is building His church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18).

So where do we go from here? We go lower—into humility; deeper—into faithfulness; wider—into love; and forward—into hope. We walk the narrow road again, not because it is easy, but because it is true. And we trust that God still does His best work with people who are willing to be changed before they try to change the world.

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Lord, lead us from pride into humility, from fear into faith, from anger into love. Teach us to walk faithfully in confusing times, trusting You to bring light out of darkness. In Jesus’ name, amen.

BDD

SOMETHING IS WRONG IN THE WORLD

Something is wrong in the world; most people feel it, even if they cannot quite name it. The headlines change, the arguments rotate, the villains and heroes are swapped out depending on who is telling the story, but the uneasiness remains. We are louder than ever, more connected than any generation before us, and yet strangely hollow. We speak constantly and listen rarely; we know everyone’s opinions, yet we scarcely know our neighbors. The problem is not merely political, cultural, or technological. Those are symptoms. The sickness runs deeper—into the human heart.

The Bible has never been naïve about this condition. It does not flatter us with the idea that the world is basically fine and only needs better management. It tells the truth, and the truth is sobering. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). That is not a commentary on one party, one nation, or one era; it is a diagnosis of fallen humanity. When the heart is disordered, everything downstream suffers—our loves, our loyalties, our words, our actions.

This helps explain why outrage has become a currency. Anger feels powerful; it gives the illusion of righteousness without the burden of repentance. We shout about justice while excusing cruelty, demand accountability while avoiding self-examination. Jesus warned us about this posture when He said that before we rush to remove a speck from our brother’s eye, we ought to deal honestly with the beam lodged in our own (Matthew 7:3-5). That teaching is not a call to silence or apathy; it is a call to humility. A world without humility will always be a world at war with itself.

Something else is wrong as well: we have confused information with wisdom. We are flooded with data and starving for discernment. The Word of God draws a clear line between the two. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding” (Proverbs 9:10). When reverence for God is replaced with confidence in ourselves, wisdom evaporates. We become clever, but not wise; informed, but not transformed. And clever people without wisdom can do tremendous damage.

The apostle Paul described our moment with unsettling clarity. He wrote that in the last days people would be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, ungrateful, unholy; having a form of godliness but denying its power (2 Timothy 3:1-5). That list does not belong to one generation alone, but it reads like a mirror held up to our own. We are religious enough to use God’s name, but often unwilling to submit to God’s ways. We want the comfort of faith without the costly work of obedience.

Yet Christ never leaves us in despair. He tells us what is wrong, but He also tells us what is right and Who can make things new. Jesus did not come merely to improve society; He came to rescue sinners and remake hearts. He said that the thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy, but that He came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly (John 10:10). That abundance is not found in dominance, applause, or control; it is found in reconciliation with God and the slow, steady healing of the inner person.

This is why no movement, election, or ideology can finally fix what ails us. Laws can restrain evil, and they should; education can illuminate minds, and it should; but only Christ can resurrect a dead heart. The Gospel does its work from the inside out. When hearts are changed, homes change; when homes change, communities change; when communities change, the world begins to look different.

Something is wrong in the world—but something is also right. Christ is still reigning. Grace is still powerful. Forgiveness is still available. Light still shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5). Our task is not to despair, nor to demonize, but to bear witness—to live as people who have been with Jesus, who speak truth without venom, who love without compromise, who hope without naïveté.

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Lord Jesus, we confess that the world is broken, and so are we. Search our hearts; heal what is sick; humble what is proud. Make us people of truth, love, and quiet faithfulness in a noisy age. Let Your light shine through us, for Your glory. Amen.

BDD

CHRIST OUR EVERLASTING HOPE

Hope is not a thin wish whispered into the dark; it is not optimism propped up by good circumstances or positive thinking. Biblical hope is anchored, weighty, living. It has a name. Christ Himself is our hope.

The world speaks of hope as something fragile, easily lost when plans fail or promises break. But the Gospel presents hope as something given, not generated; received, not manufactured. The apostle Paul blesses the church by saying, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13). Hope is not found by looking inward; it is poured into us as we look outward and upward, trusting the faithful character of God.

Christ is our hope because He entered history, not as an idea, but as flesh and blood. He stepped into our brokenness and carried it all the way to the cross. The resurrection did not merely prove His power; it secured our future. Peter writes that God “has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are guarded by the power of God through faith” (1 Peter 1:3-5). Our hope lives because He lives; it remains because He reigns.

This hope steadies the soul. Scripture describes it as “an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, which enters the presence behind the veil” (Hebrews 6:19). Storms still come; suffering still presses hard. Yet hope does not drift with the waves, because it is fastened to Christ, who has already gone before us into the presence of God. Our future is not uncertain, even when the present feels unsteady.

Christ is also our hope in the present struggle against sin and despair. Paul speaks of “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). Hope is not merely something we wait for; it is Someone who dwells within us by faith. His presence assures us that transformation is possible, that grace is stronger than guilt, and that the story God is telling with our lives is not finished.

This hope reshapes how we endure pain. We do not deny grief, nor do we pretend wounds do not ache. But hope reframes suffering by placing it within God’s redemptive purpose. Paul reminds believers that “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18). Pain is real, but it is not final. Hope gives us permission to weep while still trusting that God is at work beyond what we can see.

Christ our hope also shapes how we face death. The grave is not a locked door; it is a passage already opened by the risen Lord. Jesus declared, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live” (John 11:25). Because of Him, death does not have the final word. Hope looks beyond the cemetery and sees the promise of life everlasting.

In a weary world, this hope must be held firmly and shared gently. We do not boast in ourselves; we testify to Christ. We do not offer slogans; we offer a Savior. When others see peace that does not crumble and joy that does not depend on ease, they are witnessing the quiet strength of Christ our hope.

He is our hope when faith feels weak; our hope when prayers feel heavy; our hope when tomorrow feels uncertain. He was faithful at the cross; He is faithful at the throne; and He will be faithful until the day faith becomes sight.

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Lord Jesus, You are our living hope. Anchor our hearts in Your promises, steady our souls in every storm, and help us to trust You fully until the day we see You face to face. Amen.

BDD

THE CROSS THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING

The cross of Christ stands at the very center of the Christian faith, towering above all human wisdom and glory. What appeared to the world as weakness was, in truth, the mighty power of God at work for our salvation.

The apostle proclaimed that the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to those who are being saved it is the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:18). Strip Christianity of the cross, and nothing remains but empty morality and powerless sentiment.

At the cross, we see the seriousness of sin and the depth of divine love joined together. Sin was not dismissed, excused, or ignored; it was judged fully and finally. The spotless Son of God bore our iniquities in His own body, becoming a curse for us so that we might be brought near to God (Isaiah 53:5; Galatians 3:13). If anyone doubts the ugliness of sin, let him look to the cross. If anyone doubts the love of God, let him look there again.

The cross humbles the proud heart. No one comes to Calvary boasting in merit or achievement. All stand on level ground, guilty and undone, saved only by grace. The apostle declared that he resolved to know nothing among the Corinthians except Jesus Christ and Him crucified (1 Corinthians 2:2). Here is the wisdom that silences human pride: salvation accomplished not by human effort, but by divine sacrifice.

Yet the cross does not merely forgive; it transforms. Those who have been united with Christ in His death are called to walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4). The old self, once ruled by sin, has been crucified with Him, so that we may live unto God. The cross severs our allegiance to the world and binds us in love to the Savior who gave Himself for us.

To live beneath the shadow of the cross is to live with gratitude, reverence, and hope. The same cross that paid our debt also guarantees our future, for the One who died there did not remain in the grave. Because Christ was lifted up, He now draws all who trust Him to Himself (John 12:32). The cross, once an instrument of death, has become the doorway to life everlasting.

Let us never grow casual about Calvary. Let us preach it, cherish it, and cling to it with unwavering faith. For in the cross of Christ, God has spoken His final word on sin, love, and redemption.

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Lord Jesus, keep the cross ever before my eyes. Teach me to see my sin rightly, to trust fully in Your sacrifice, and to live a life shaped by gratitude and obedience to You. Amen.

BDD

THE WORD THAT STANDS FOREVER

The Bible is no ordinary book set among others upon the shelf of human thought; it is the living voice of the living God, breathed forth by heaven and given to earth for the salvation and sanctification of souls.

The prophet declared that the grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever (Isaiah 40:8). Empires rise and crumble, philosophies sparkle and vanish, but the word of God abides—unchaken by time, unweakened by opposition, and unexhausted in its power.

It is by this word that sinners are awakened and saints are sustained. The psalmist testified that the law of the Lord restores the soul, makes wise the simple, rejoices the heart, and enlightens the eyes (Psalm 19:7-8). Where human counsel falters, God’s word speaks with clarity. Where the heart is wounded, it applies a healing balm. Where the path is dark, it casts a steady light. No other book dares to claim such authority, nor could any other book fulfill it.

The Bible does not merely inform the mind; it confronts the conscience and commands the will. The apostle taught that the Word of God is living and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4:12). We do not stand above the Bible as its judges; we stand beneath it as those who are judged, corrected, and reshaped by its truth.

Yet this sacred volume is also a book of grace. Within its pages we meet Christ Himself—not as a distant figure of history, but as the risen Lord who speaks still. From Genesis to Revelation, the scarlet thread of redemption runs unbroken, pointing the sinner to the Savior. Jesus rebuked those who searched the Scriptures while refusing to come to Him, for they testified of Him all along (John 5:39-40). To treasure the Bible rightly is to be led, again and again, to the feet of Christ.

Neglect of the word of God is never a small loss. It leaves the soul malnourished, the church weakened, and the conscience untethered. But where the Bible is read with humility, believed with conviction, and obeyed with love, there the Spirit works powerfully. Faith is born by hearing, and hearing by the word of God (Romans 10:17). Revival has never come by novelty, but by a fresh return to this ancient and holy word.

Let us then hold fast to the Bible—not as a relic of the past, but as the sure and sufficient guide for life and godliness. Read it reverently. Obey it courageously. Trust it fully. For the word that once spoke light into darkness still speaks life into the human heart.

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Gracious Lord, give me a deep hunger for Your word. Open my eyes to behold its truth, bend my heart to obey it, and lead me through it to a deeper love for Christ. Amen.

BDD

HE HOLDS HIS SHEEP FAST

There is great comfort in knowing that our salvation does not hang upon the frail thread of human resolve, but upon the mighty hand of the Savior. The believer’s confidence rests not in how firmly he clings to Christ, but in how firmly Christ holds him. Our Lord Himself declared that His sheep hear His voice, He knows them, and they follow Him; He gives them eternal life, and they shall never perish, nor shall anyone snatch them out of His hand (John 10:27-28). This is not the language of uncertainty, but of divine security spoken by the Shepherd of souls.

The heart of man is changeable, easily discouraged, and prone to wander. We resolve, and then falter; we promise, and then forget. Yet the covenant love of Christ does not fluctuate with our moods or measure itself by our strength. The apostle Paul reminds us that He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, will surely give us all things necessary for life and godliness (Romans 8:32). The cross stands as the unshakable proof that Christ’s commitment to His people is deeper than our failures and stronger than our fears.

This truth humbles the proud and lifts the weary. It humbles us because it strips away all boasting. If we stand, it is by grace. If we endure, it is because Christ intercedes for us even now. The Gospel assures us that He always lives to make intercession for those who come to God through Him (Hebrews 7:25). Our names are carried not only on His heart, but into the very presence of the Father. What accusation can stand when the risen Christ Himself speaks on our behalf?

Yet this doctrine also calls us to holy devotion. The same Lord who holds His sheep fast also leads them forward. He preserves us not in indifference, but in obedience. His grace does not loosen the reins of righteousness; it tightens them with love. We follow because we are His, and we love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). Assurance does not produce carelessness; it produces gratitude, reverence, and a longing to please the One who has shown us such mercy.

Let the trembling believer take heart. Christ does not abandon His own. He does not grow weary of those He has redeemed. The nails that once pierced His hands now testify that those hands will never release the souls entrusted to Him. Rest, then, not in your grip on the Shepherd, but in the Shepherd’s grip on you.

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Lord Jesus, thank You for holding me when my strength fails. Teach me to trust Your faithfulness, to walk in grateful obedience, and to rest in the assurance of Your saving grace. Amen.

BDD

HE IS FAITHFUL IN THE QUIET PLACES

Much of the Christian life is lived far from the spotlight—in ordinary rooms, on familiar roads, in conversations no one else hears. We often imagine that faith is proven in great moments of courage or public witness, yet Jesus forms His people most deeply in the quiet places. He taught that those who follow Him must learn to be faithful in what is small before being entrusted with much (Luke 16:10). Daily obedience, offered quietly and consistently, is precious in His sight.

The Bible reminds us that the Lord sees what others overlook. When Samuel was sent to anoint a king, he learned that God does not measure as humans do; people look at outward appearance, but the Lord looks upon the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). Our hidden prayers, our unseen acts of kindness, our silent resistance to temptation—none of these are wasted. Christ is present in them all, shaping a heart that belongs fully to Him.

Jesus Himself often withdrew to solitary places to pray. Before great decisions and after demanding days, He sought communion with the Father (Luke 5:16). If the Son of God valued those quiet moments, we should not be surprised that our strength is renewed there as well. It is in stillness that we learn to listen, to trust, and to remember that our life is sustained not by noise or urgency, but by abiding in Him.

Faithfulness in the quiet places also prepares us for trials. The apostle Peter wrote that after we have suffered for a little while, God Himself will restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish us (1 Peter 5:10). Restoration does not happen overnight. It is formed through patient endurance, nurtured by confidence in Christ’s nearness even when the path is hard and the future uncertain.

Walking with Jesus is not about chasing constant excitement; it is about learning contentment in His presence. He promised that He would be with His people always, to the very end of the age (Matthew 28:20). That promise holds true in crowded sanctuaries and in empty rooms alike. The same Lord who commands the seas also walks beside us in the quiet places, faithfully shaping our lives for His glory.

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Lord Jesus, help me to be faithful in the quiet places of my life. Teach me to walk with You when no one else is watching, and to trust that You are at work in every small act of obedience. Strengthen my heart to rest in Your presence. Amen.

BDD

A LOVE THAT WILL NOT LET GO

There is a love that does not loosen its grip when we stumble, nor withdraw when we falter. It is not fragile, not conditional, and not intimidated by our weakness. It is the love of Jesus Christ—personal, pursuing, and unwavering. Many know about Him; fewer truly know Him. Yet the heart of the Gospel is not merely that Christ is to be believed in, but that He is to be walked with, trusted, and loved in a living relationship.

This love begins not with our reaching upward, but with His coming down. The Word of God teaches that God demonstrated His love toward us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). He did not wait for improvement, understanding, or worthiness. He entered our brokenness and claimed us as His own. That is the nature of a love that will not let go—it initiates, it pursues, and it remains.

A personal relationship with Jesus means learning to rest in that love even when the heart is restless. There are days when faith feels strong and days when it feels threadbare. Yet the apostle Paul assures us that nothing—neither life nor death, neither present struggles nor future fears—can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39). Our grip on Him may weaken, but His grip on us does not.

This love corrects as well as comforts. Jesus does not cling to us in order to leave us unchanged. The one whom the Lord loves, He disciplines, shaping us for holiness and life (Hebrews 12:6). His love refuses to abandon us to sin, despair, or self-deception. It holds us close enough to heal, and firmly enough to transform.

To live in relationship with Jesus is to wake each day aware that we are known completely and loved fully. He is not distant or detached. He walks with us, intercedes for us, and invites us to cast every care upon Him because He truly cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). Even when we wander, His love goes after us—not to condemn, but to restore.

In the end, our hope does not rest in our consistency, our strength, or our ability to hold on. It rests in His faithfulness. A love that will not let go is a love that carried a cross, endured the grave, and rose victorious so that we might never be alone. This is the love of Jesus—and once it takes hold of a life, it never releases it.

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Lord Jesus, thank You for loving me with a love that will not let go. Teach me to trust You, to rest in Your faithfulness, and to walk daily in the assurance of Your presence. Hold me close, and shape my life by Your love. Amen.

BDD

WALKING WITH CHRIST DAILY

Walking with Christ is not a dramatic sprint punctuated by rare spiritual highs; it is a steady, deliberate pace—step after step—taken in trust. Jesus did not call His disciples to admire Him from a distance, but to follow Him closely, learning His ways along the road.

He said that if anyone desires to come after Him, that person must deny self, take up the cross daily, and follow Him (Luke 9:23). Daily is the key word. Faithfulness is not proven in moments of intensity, but in ordinary obedience when no one is watching and nothing feels extraordinary.

To walk with Christ daily means allowing Him to shape how we think, speak, and respond. It is waking up aware that our life is no longer our own. The apostle Paul testified that he had been crucified with Christ, and that the life he now lived was animated by trust in the Son of God who loved him and gave Himself for him (Galatians 2:20). That kind of life is not lived on autopilot. It is a conscious yielding of the will, a quiet surrender that says, “Lord, lead, and I will follow.”

This daily walk is nourished by the word of God. The psalmist declared that God’s word serves as a lamp to guide our feet and a light that shows us the path ahead (Psalm 119:105). Lamps do not illuminate miles into the distance; they give just enough light for the next step. God rarely reveals the entire journey at once, but He is faithful to give sufficient light for today. Walking with Christ means trusting that His light is enough, even when tomorrow remains unclear.

Abiding in Christ is also essential. Jesus taught that remaining in Him is the only way to bear lasting fruit, because apart from Him we can do nothing of eternal value (John 15:4-5). This abiding is not passive; it is relational. It is prayerful dependence, attentive listening, and ongoing repentance. When we stumble, we do not stop walking; we rise, confess, and keep moving forward with Him.

Walking with Christ daily will not remove every burden, but it will give meaning to every step. It will steady the heart, clarify the conscience, and anchor the soul. The road may be narrow, but we do not walk it alone. The Shepherd walks with us, and His presence turns ordinary days into holy ground.

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Lord Jesus, teach me to walk with You today. Order my steps by Your word, steady my heart in obedience, and help me trust You for each step ahead. Lead me, and I will follow. Amen.

BDD

INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC IN WORSHIP IS NOT WRONG — AND YET I HONOR THOSE WHO DISAGREE

I want to say this plainly at the outset: I am not writing out of spite, bitterness, or a desire to distance myself from men who shaped me. I am writing out of conviction. There have been giants among us—faithful Christians, careful students of the word of God, men of prayer and discipline—who believed that instrumental music in Christian worship is sinful. Jimmy Allen. Winfred Clark. Cecil May Jr. Many others. These were personal friends. They were not careless men. They were not lightweights. They loved Christ, revered His authority, and labored sacrificially for the souls of others. I honor them. I learned from them. And I still disagree with them.

Disagreement does not equal disrespect. The church has too often confused the two.

The anti-instrumental position, despite being defended by sincere and brilliant men, is—at its core—logically indefensible. Not because it lacks passion, but because it lacks a coherent biblical principle that can be applied consistently without collapsing under its own weight.

The central argument has always been framed around silence. God specified singing; therefore, instruments are excluded. But this reasoning assumes more than it proves. Specification only excludes when the nature of the command demands exclusion. When God told Noah to build an ark of gopher wood, alternatives were excluded because the material itself was essential to the command. But when the New Testament commands believers to sing, it gives a form of expression, not a restriction on accompaniment. Singing describes the action; it does not define every circumstance surrounding that action.

We sing with pitch. We sing with rhythm. We sing in harmony. None of those elements are explicitly authorized in the text, yet no one calls them sinful. Why? Because we instinctively understand that the command to sing includes everything necessary to sing well. To single out mechanical accompaniment as uniquely forbidden—while accepting songbooks, pitch pipes, tuning forks, microphones, and four-part harmony—reveals the inconsistency. The principle being applied is not actually biblical; it is selective.

Appeals to the early church fare no better. Yes, many early Christians worshiped without instruments. But absence is not prohibition. Poverty, persecution, and cultural context explain much of early practice. More importantly, even if you believe that the “restoration” principle is valid—and I believe that it, too, is invalid and cannot be applied in any consistent way—restoration is not reenactment. We do not reject church buildings because first-century Christians met in homes. We do not reject written sermons because Jesus taught orally. If you were called to restore anything, it would be actual doctrine, not archaeology. (See my article, “There is Nothing to Restore” by searching “restore” on the Articles page)

Nor does the appeal to Old Testament worship solve the problem. If instrumental music was sinful by nature, God would not have commanded it so extensively under the Law. If it suddenly became sinful under Christ, we would expect a clear, unmistakable prohibition—not an argument built on inference and silence. The New Testament does not downgrade music; it deepens it. It moves worship from shadow to substance, from temple to heart—not from fullness to restriction.

I know why good men held this position. They feared innovation. They feared drifting from apostolic authority. They feared pleasing culture more than God. Those fears were not foolish. They were pastoral. They were protective. But good motives cannot rescue a weak argument.

We do not defend truth by building fences God never built.

The irony is that the anti-instrumental position often demands more from silence than it allows anywhere else. It turns liberty into law and conscience into commandment. And in doing so, it binds where God has not bound—something Scripture explicitly warns us against.

I remain grateful for the men who disagreed with me. I still quote them. I still read their books. I still thank God for their influence. But reverence for teachers must never outweigh reverence for truth. Even great men can be wrong—not because they were dishonest, but because tradition can harden into certainty if never reexamined.

Unity in Christ does not require uniformity of opinion on matters God has left free. The church is strongest when it distinguishes between the gospel we must defend and the traditions we must be willing to question.

I can honor my fathers in the faith without inheriting every conclusion they reached. And I can love the church enough to say, calmly and clearly, that the case against instrumental music is not just unconvincing—it is unsustainable.

Truth does not fear examination. And faith does not require us to silence honest reasoning.

There is nothing wrong with being non-instrumental. No one is required to use instruments any more than one is required to sing in a church building. But the anti-instrumental position—the claim that it is wrong for others to do so—simply will not hold up under honest scrutiny, in my opinion.

BDD

CHOOSE THE DAY YOU WILL LIVE

What kind of day do you want to have? That question reaches deeper than schedules, circumstances, or headlines. Most days do not arrive already labeled as good or bad; they unfold according to where we place our attention and trust.

A good day is often chosen before it is ever felt. It begins when the heart decides to lean toward what is true and life-giving rather than what is loud, anxious, or discouraging. The Bible reminds us that this day is not random or wasted; it is a gift formed by the Lord Himself, and the call is clear that we are invited to meet it with rejoicing and gladness (Psalm 118:24).

You may not control everything that comes your way, but you can decide how you will meet it, with faith instead of fear, gratitude instead of complaint, and hope instead of cynicism.

That decision does not stay private for long. The posture of your heart quietly shapes the atmosphere around you. When you enter a conversation carrying peace instead of irritation, patience instead of suspicion, you change more than the moment, you bless the people in it.

Joy grows stronger when it is practiced, not because life is easy, but because God is faithful. Every kind word, every restrained reaction, every act of thankfulness becomes a small confession that the Lord is present even in ordinary hours. In choosing to see the good, you are not denying the hard; you are declaring that the hard does not end the conversation—Christ does.

Over time, these daily choices form a way of living. A good day becomes less about everything going right and more about walking rightly. It is learning to see interruptions as opportunities for grace, delays as invitations to patience, and challenges as moments to trust God more deeply.

This kind of living does not ignore reality; it redeems it. It acknowledges the weight of the world while refusing to let that weight crush the soul. In a culture trained to react, choosing joy becomes a quiet act of courage and faith.

So today, before the noise begins and the demands pile up, decide what kind of day you will live. Decide to look for God’s goodness already at work. Decide to speak life, extend grace, and carry light. A good day is not something you wait on; it is something you walk into with your eyes fixed on the Lord, trusting that He is present in every step.

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Lord, You are the giver of this day. Help me to receive it with gratitude, to walk through it with faith, and to reflect Your goodness in every place You lead me. Teach my heart to choose joy and my mind to rest in Your truth. Amen.

BDD

A CALL FOR SANITY IN A SCREAMING AGE

I’m not a political commentator or a zealot for anything other than Jesus. I’m just a preacher from Alabama. I’m not an extremist. I’m not trying to hurt anyone—I just want to help if I can. And I need far too much grace and forgiveness myself to judge or condemn you.

So I’m simply speaking as a concerned citizen: if the moderate and sensible men and women of goodwill on all sides do not come together, this will not turn out well. We need to think more and shout less—talk more and stop drawing lines.

We’ve been overtaken by people who act like children. Adults learn how to speak respectfully, listen carefully, and work together. They seek common ground. And if they believe in Jesus, they must also believe in the brotherhood of humanity—that every person we meet is a unique creation of Almighty God, made in the image of God.

We can do better.

Obviously, something has gone terribly wrong with our public life. Not merely politically, but spiritually and morally. We are not just divided; we are discipled by outrage. We have trained ourselves to think in absolutes, to speak in slogans, to sort every human being into neat and hostile categories. If you do not agree with me entirely, you must be against me completely. If you question one plank, you must be loyal to the whole platform of the other side. Nuance is treated as weakness. Thoughtfulness is mistaken for compromise. Silence is assumed to be cowardice.

And yet many people are silent for reasons far more complicated than fear or apathy.

There are thoughtful men and women who do not agree with many things the current administration promotes. They see excesses. They sense drift. They feel concern. But they do not rush to join the loudest voices on the right, because those voices often come bundled with their own forms of blindness and cruelty. In the same way, there are those on the left who remain quiet, not because they lack convictions, but because dissent inside a tribe is punished as harshly as opposition outside it.

We live under an unspoken rule: you must choose a side, and once chosen, you must defend everything your side does, or risk being cast out.

That rule is toxic.

It produces people who no longer think, only react. It creates a culture where disagreement is moralized, where every issue is framed as a final battle between good and evil, and where love for neighbor is sacrificed on the altar of ideological purity. In such an atmosphere, it becomes nearly impossible to say something as simple and sane as this: I agree with some things, I disagree with others, and I refuse to reduce human beings to caricatures.

Take the cultural issues that inflame us most. There are real questions about how we protect the weak, how we define boundaries, and how we cultivate virtue in a confused age. These are serious matters that deserve sober discussion, not mockery or hysteria. It is possible to believe that encouraging certain behaviors is unwise, or that some public expressions cross lines, without hating anyone or denying their dignity. It is also possible to reject cruelty, bullying, and dehumanization without affirming everything done in the name of tolerance.

But our current climate does not reward that kind of careful speech. It rewards volume, certainty, and outrage. So many choose silence, not because they have nothing to say, but because anything short of total alignment is treated as betrayal.

The tragedy is that the loudest voices now shape the narrative, while the most reasonable voices retreat. The result is a public square dominated by extremes, where love is dismissed as weakness and restraint is confused with indifference.

Followers of Christ, especially, must resist this madness. We are not called to be the chaplains of any political machine. We are not commanded to baptize a platform or sanctify a party. We are called to speak truth with humility, to love without qualification, and to refuse the lie that righteousness requires rage. The Word of God does not train us to shout people down; it forms us to bear witness, to exercise self-control, and to pursue peace without surrendering conviction.

The world does not need more partisan fury. It needs moral clarity joined to compassion. It needs people brave enough to say, I will not be owned by either extreme. I will think. I will listen. I will love. I will speak when conscience demands it, and I will remain silent when speech would only add fuel to the fire.

Balance is not cowardice. Reason is not betrayal. Love is not weakness. In an age addicted to outrage, calm faithfulness may be the most radical witness left.

Let me make a proposal—simple, fair, and desperately needed.

If you would speak out against abortion being treated as a casual form of birth control, perhaps others would find the courage to speak out against the mistreatment of immigrants made in the image of God.

If you would raise your voice against drag queens reading stories to children, perhaps others might also raise their voice against the way the current president speaks—how mockery, cruelty, and dehumanizing language corrode the soul of a nation.

If you would speak out against racism—calling it what it is: evil, moral sickness, sin—others might actually listen to you when you speak about your views on culture, politics, or faith. Silence on clear injustice undercuts credibility. You don’t have to adopt slogans or focus on anything other than Christ; you just have to tell the truth. Racism dehumanizes people made in the image of God, and that should never be negotiable for anyone who claims the name of Jesus. When you draw a clear line there, people know where you stand—and they’re far more likely to hear you when you speak about everything else.

Moral concern cannot be selective without becoming hollow. If we expect honesty from others, we must model it ourselves. If we want balance, we must practice it. And if we desire a culture shaped by truth and love, then we must be willing to challenge what is wrong on our own side as readily as we challenge what is wrong on the other.

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Lord Jesus, keep our hearts from hardening and our minds from being captured by anger. Teach us to speak with wisdom, to love without fear, and to stand for truth without losing compassion. Make us peacemakers in a divided land, and let Your Spirit govern our words and our lives. Amen.

BDD

WHY YOU SHOULD BELIEVE IN JESUS CHRIST

Life can feel messy, confusing, and sometimes downright unfair. We chase success, money, relationships, or recognition—but at the end of the day, none of it fills the emptiness inside. There’s something bigger we were made for, and that something is Jesus Christ.

Jesus isn’t just a figure from history or a moral example. He’s alive, He’s real, and He’s the only one who can fix what’s broken inside you. He saw our mess, our failures, our doubts—and He stepped into it anyway. The cross wasn’t just a symbol; it was the ultimate rescue mission. (Romans 5:6-8)

Believing in Jesus changes everything. It’s not about rules or guilt; it’s about freedom. Freedom from fear, freedom from shame, freedom from trying to carry the world on your shoulders. He gives peace that actually sticks, joy that doesn’t depend on your circumstances, and hope that rises even when life knocks you down (Philippians 4:7).

Look at His life—He healed the sick, gave hope to the hopeless, and loved the unlovable. Then He faced death, conquered it, and rose again. That power isn’t just history—it’s alive today, and it’s available to you. (John 3:16)

Believing in Jesus also gives life a compass. He teaches you how to love, how to forgive, and how to keep moving forward when the world seems to fall apart. Life won’t be perfect, but it will have purpose—and that purpose comes from Him. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

The choice is yours: keep chasing empty things, or step into the life He offers—full of grace, hope, and a love that never quits. Jesus isn’t asking for perfection. He’s asking for trust. He’s asking for your heart.

___________

Jesus, I’m tired of running in circles. Help me trust You, follow You, and let Your love change my life. Show me the joy and peace that only You can give. Amen.

BDD

THE GREATEST SECULAR SONGS OF ALL TIME (IN MY OPINION) — NUMBERS 60-51

Music has a way of speaking to the soul that transcends time. It can lift us when we are low, challenge us when we are comfortable, and make us pause when life moves too quickly. Secular songs, in particular, often capture the human experience in ways that feel intimate yet universal—moments of joy, longing, courage, and reflection set to melody. The following list represents a small portion of the songs that have left an indelible mark on me, not just for their popularity, but for the way they resonate with the human heart.

50. “LOVELY DAY” — BILL WITHERS

Few songs can start a morning or lift a spirit like Bill Withers’ Lovely Day. Withers’ voice is both warm and unwavering, carrying a quiet assurance that no matter the troubles surrounding you, a day can be beautiful if you choose it. The simplicity of the lyrics mirrors the simplicity of true joy—it is not earned or bought, it is embraced. Every note of the chorus seems to carry sunlight itself, making it a timeless anthem of hope and optimism.

49. “I BELIEVE” — BLESSED UNION OF SOULS

Released in the 1990s, I Believe by Blessed Union of Souls captures the power of faith—not necessarily the religious kind, but faith in love, in people, and in oneself. The song’s soaring chorus encourages persistence and courage, reminding listeners that believing in better days or in personal transformation is never wasted energy. Its earnestness is unpretentious yet deeply moving, making it a perfect companion for reflection and determination.

48. “RESPECT” — ARETHA FRANKLIN

Aretha Franklin’s Respect is more than a song; it is a declaration. Every note, every phrase commands attention, demanding dignity and acknowledgment while celebrating self-worth. Franklin’s voice is bold and unwavering, and the song’s energy is infectious—encouraging listeners to claim the respect they deserve while standing firm in who they are. It is timeless empowerment, a secular hymn for asserting value and humanity in the face of disregard.

47. “THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND” — ANDREW GOLD

Written and performed by Andrew Gold, Thank You for Being a Friend is the kind of song that reminds us of the power of loyalty, kindness, and companionship. Its melody is warm and inviting, carrying the gratitude of someone who has witnessed another person’s constancy. Simple in its approach but profound in its effect, it celebrates the quiet yet transformative impact a friend can have on life, leaving the listener reflective and comforted.

46. “STRANGE FRUIT” — BILLIE HOLIDAY

This one is haunting and unforgettable, a song that refuses to let the listener look away from injustice. Its dark, mournful melody is a stark contrast to the weight of its lyrics, which recount the horrors of racial violence in America. Holiday’s delivery is chillingly calm, forcing us to confront the cruelty of humanity while honoring the dignity of those who suffered. It is not an easy listen, but it is necessary—a secular song that serves as a mirror to society and conscience.

45. “AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’” — FATS WALLER

Pure joy captured in musical form. The playful rhythm, Waller’s charismatic voice, and the clever, flirtatious lyrics make it a delight from start to finish. Beyond its entertainment value, it celebrates honesty, affection, and charm in everyday life. The song’s energy feels alive, like a warm evening in a smoky jazz club, reminding listeners of the simple pleasures that music can bring.

44. “THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGING” — BOB DYLAN

Bob Dylan’s anthem is as relevant now as it was in the 1960s. With a voice both weary and resolute, Dylan calls for awareness, courage, and adaptation in the face of societal change. The song’s message is clear: nothing remains the same, and progress requires both attention and action. Its sweeping cultural impact combined with the timelessness of its lyrics makes it more than a song—it is a rallying cry, a reflection of collective responsibility, and a mirror to history itself.

43. “THE WONDER OF YOU” — ELVIS PRESLEY

The Wonder of You by the King is a song of admiration, gratitude, and personal connection. Presley’s voice carries both warmth and sincerity, conveying a deep appreciation for someone who uplifts life through love or presence. The song is intimate yet grand, encouraging listeners to reflect on those in their lives who provide support, inspiration, and joy. It reminds us to recognize and cherish what we often take for granted.

42. “BRAVE” — SARA BAREILLES

This is a modern anthem of courage and self-expression. Its upbeat rhythm and clear, confident vocals urge listeners to step forward, speak honestly, and embrace their truths. There is a universality in its message: whether facing personal fears, societal pressures, or emotional struggles, the song insists that being brave is both a personal act of liberation and an inspiration to others.

41. “KEEP THE FAITH” — MICHAEL JACKSON

Another Jackson anthem (no one did more positive music than MJ) is about resilience, hope, and perseverance. With Jackson’s unmistakable energy and passion, the song encourages listeners to endure hardship and hold on to belief in themselves and in a better future. Its rhythm is motivating, its lyrics uplifting, and its spirit contagious, making it a timeless reminder that strength and optimism often arise from struggle.

BDD

RACISM — STRAINING A GNAT AND SWALLOWING A CAMEL

Let’s be honest. No one whose church is comfortably segregated gets to lecture the world on morality. You don’t get to thunder about holiness while quietly maintaining racial boundaries and calling it “tradition” or “culture.” That kind of “faith” may be tidy, but it isn’t Christian.

If you’ve been a Christian for years and the only place you feel at ease is around people who look exactly like you, something has gone wrong. The Gospel doesn’t just save souls; it shatters walls. Jesus didn’t die to create gated religious communities. He died to form one new people, drawn from everywhere, bound together by grace, not skin tone.

I once attended a school that wanted me to sign a pledge. No secular music. No movies. A neat little checklist, designed to keep everyone visibly clean. I refused to sign it. And here’s the thing: the entire time I was there, I never saw anything but white faces. Not in the classroom. Not in chapel. Not in leadership. The rules were strict; the fellowship was narrow.

That’s when it hit me. This is exactly what Jesus was talking about.

The Gospel record Jesus calling out religious leaders who obsessed over tiny details while ignoring massive moral failures. He said they strained out a gnat and swallowed a camel. They were meticulous about the small stuff and blind to the big stuff. External compliance had replaced internal transformation.

Policing playlists and clothes and movies and someone’s language while ignoring prejudice is distraction—not holiness.

Jesus said the world would know His followers by their love, not by their rulebooks. Love crosses lines. Love makes room. Love doesn’t hide behind purity codes while refusing to sit next to people who don’t fit the preferred mold. When a church can enforce behavior but can’t reflect the diversity of God’s creation, it’s not protecting the Gospel; it’s shrinking it. It is mocking it, intentionally or not.

Racism is not a side issue. It’s not “political.” It’s a Gospel problem. Every person is made in the image of God. Period. A faith that can’t see that clearly is already compromised, no matter how clean its hands appear.

Jesus didn’t come to make us respectable. He came to make us new. And sometimes the most dangerous thing in the room isn’t the music someone listens to or the movie they watch, but the quiet, unchallenged sin everyone has learned to live with.

Strain the gnat if you want. But don’t pretend you’re righteous while the camel is still sitting in your throat.

BDD

CHRIST — OUR REASON FOR LIVING

Life presses the same question upon every soul sooner or later: Why am I here? We may distract ourselves for a season with work, pleasure, ambition, or routine, but the question waits patiently beneath it all. The Bible does not answer this with a vague philosophy or a passing motivation. It answers with a Person.

Christ Himself is our reason for living.

The Apostle Paul said it plainly when he wrote that for him, to live was Christ, and to die was gain (Philippians 1:21). Life was no longer measured by success, comfort, or longevity. It was defined by union with Jesus. Paul’s breath, labor, suffering, and hope were gathered into one purpose: belonging to Christ and making Him known.

Christ is our reason for living because He is our Creator and our Redeemer. All things were created through Him and for Him, and in Him all things hold together (Colossians 1:16-17). This means our lives are not accidents drifting through time. We were made with intention, sustained by His power, and drawn toward His purposes. Outside of Him, life fragments. In Him, life finds coherence.

Jesus also gives meaning to living by giving Himself for us. He said that He came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly, not merely existence, but life marked by restoration and fullness (John 10:10). This abundance is not excess or ease; it is life reconciled to God, freed from condemnation, and rooted in grace. When Christ becomes the center, living is no longer about self-preservation, but about faithful response.

Christ our reason for living also reshapes how we endure hardship. The Gospel teaches that we were buried with Him through baptism into death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4). New life does not mean trouble-free life. It means life no longer ruled by sin, fear, or despair. Even suffering is given meaning when it is carried in fellowship with Christ.

This is why believers can live with quiet resolve in an unsteady world. We are told that we no longer live for ourselves, but for Him who died for us and was raised again (2 Corinthians 5:15). Our days are not empty. Our obedience is not wasted. Our faithfulness, even when unseen, matters eternally because it is offered to Christ.

To live for Christ is not to withdraw from the world, but to engage it rightly. It is to love because He first loved us. It is to serve because He became a servant. It is to hope because He lives. When Christ is our reason for living, even ordinary moments are caught up into something holy.

Life apart from Christ asks us to invent meaning and sustain it by our own strength. Life in Christ rests in a meaning already given, secured by His cross, and confirmed by His resurrection. He is not one reason among many. He is the reason. And in Him, life finally makes sense.

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Lord Jesus, You are our life and our purpose. Teach us to live for You in every moment, trusting that our days are held in Your hands. May our lives bring honor to Your name, now and always. Amen.

BDD

CHRIST OUR JOY

Joy is often confused with brightness of circumstance; with ease, laughter, or the temporary relief that comes when burdens lift. But Christian joy is not born in comfort; it is born in Christ. It does not rise and fall with headlines, health reports, or the moods of the day. It stands steady because it is anchored not in what we feel, but in who He is.

The Son of God came with joy as part of His very mission. The angel announced His birth as good news of great joy for all people (Luke 2:10). This joy was not a distraction from the world’s sorrow; it was God’s answer to it. Christ stepped into a broken world, not to deny its pain, but to plant within it a joy that suffering itself could not uproot.

Jesus spoke of this joy as something He gives, not something we manufacture. On the night before the cross, He told His disciples that He had spoken these things so that His joy might remain in them, and that their joy might be full (John 15:11). The timing matters. He said this while betrayal was near, while suffering loomed. His joy was not postponed until resurrection morning; it was already present, rooted in obedience to the Father and love for His own.

This is why Christ can be our joy even when life is heavy. The Apostle Paul, writing from imprisonment, urged believers to rejoice in the Lord always, and then said it again for emphasis (Philippians 4:4). Paul did not rejoice in chains; he rejoiced in Christ. The joy was not the absence of hardship, but the presence of the risen Lord who could not be confined by stone walls or iron bars.

Christ our joy means that joy is no longer fragile. When success fades, when relationships strain, when the body weakens, Christ remains. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). His love does not fluctuate. His promises do not expire. His kingdom does not tremble. And because our joy is tied to Him, it endures when everything else feels uncertain.

This joy also reshapes how we see the world. The Word of God says that the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17). Joy becomes a quiet testimony. It tells the watching world that Christ is sufficient; that grace is real; that hope is not wishful thinking, but a living Person who walks with us even now.

To confess Christ as our joy is not to deny sorrow. Jesus Himself was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3). Yet even in sorrow, He trusted the Father, and for the joy set before Him endured the cross (Hebrews 12:2). Our joy follows the same path. It passes through the cross, through surrender, through trust, and emerges not shallow, but deep; not loud, but strong.

Christ does not merely give joy; He is our joy. When we look to Him, abide in Him, and rest in His finished work, joy quietly takes root in the heart and grows, steady and unshaken, by the grace of God.

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Lord Jesus, You are our joy when strength fails and answers are slow. Teach us to rest in You, to rejoice in You, and to trust You fully. Let Your joy remain in us, and let it be made full, for the glory of God. Amen.

BDD

MLK — TRUTH, CONTEXT, AND THE MEASURE OF A MAN

There is a strange ritual in every generation; we raise up voices of courage when they are safely buried, then rummage through their wounds as though truth were found in scavenging. Recent noise surrounding newly released files about Martin Luther King Jr. has followed this tired pattern. Old accusations, filtered through hostile eyes, are paraded as though they were fresh revelations; whispers dressed up as wisdom; suspicion mistaken for discernment. It is not courage. It is not clarity. It is not justice.

Dr. King was not a plaster saint. He never claimed to be. He was a man of flesh and breath, bearing the weight of fear, fatigue, pressure, and relentless hatred. But he was also a man who bent his knee to Christ, who shaped his public courage in the furnace of private prayer, who carried the cross of nonviolence through streets slick with blood and fire. To reduce such a life to selective accusations drawn from agencies that openly sought his destruction is not honesty; it is historical vandalism.

The word of God teaches us how to judge rightly. We are warned that there are witnesses who speak from malice rather than truth, and that a lying tongue is an abomination before the Lord (Proverbs 6:16-19). We are told that love does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in truth (1 Corinthians 13:6). Truth is not rumor. Truth is not surveillance notes compiled by men who feared the gospel’s power to dismantle unjust systems. Truth is what bears good fruit over time.

Look at the fruit. Segregation shattered. Laws transformed. Consciences awakened. A nation forced to hear words it had long suppressed. Dr. King did not accomplish these things by charisma alone, nor by political cunning, but by rooting his message in the teachings of Jesus: love your enemies; pray for those who persecute you; overcome evil with good (Matthew 5:44; Romans 12:21). These were not slogans for him; they were a costly way of life.

Some now ask why we defend him. The answer is simple. We defend truth against distortion. We defend context against caricature. We defend the principle that God often uses imperfect vessels to accomplish holy purposes. The Bible reminds us that Elijah was weary, David was broken, Peter was impulsive, and yet the Lord worked mightily through them, not because of their flawlessness, but because of their surrender (1 Kings 19:4-8; Psalm 51; John 21:15-19).

To attack King now, decades after his voice was silenced, is easy. He cannot answer back. He cannot clarify. He cannot repent of what was private or explain what was distorted. But Christ sees. And Christ judges not as men judge, for He looks upon the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). That truth should sober every keyboard prophet and sanctify every historian.

The church must not join the mob. We must be a people slow to accuse, careful with sources, and deeply aware of how power manipulates narratives. We can acknowledge human weakness without surrendering to cynicism. We can tell the truth without delighting in destruction. We can honor a man’s legacy without pretending he was without need of grace.

Martin Luther King Jr. stood against injustice because he believed Jesus meant what He said. He paid for that belief with threats, imprisonment, slander, and ultimately his life. The foolishness now swirling around his name says far more about our appetite for scandal than it does about his soul.

Let us be better than that. Let us judge fruit, honor courage, and leave final judgment where it belongs.

Martin Luther King Jr. was a great man. A giant of a man.

And all perceptive men and women of goodwill know it.

BDD