“Thus says the Lord: ‘Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool; what is the house that you would build for me, and what is the place of my rest? All these things my hand has made, and so all these things came to be, declares the Lord. But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.’”

Isaiah 66:1–2

The Bible reminds us that there is only one proper response to the presence of this house where the Holy Occupant dwells: to tremble at his Word.

The One who is high and holy, who inhabits eternity, looks to the one who is willing to take the lowest place before him. The one who knows the damage that sin brings, and is awake to the reality of their inability to stand upright before God. The one whose sensitive heart is longing to please the One he adores.

These are the people among whom the Lord loves to dwell and bestow the blessings of his favor. These are the ones he longs to use and empower by his grace to exercise servant dominion, bringing his peace to the ends of the earth.

Is this not what we want in our lives, in our families, and in our community?

All of us, whether we’re teachers, tutors, aides, administrators, maintenance, or security, want to live well all of our days before the eyes of him to whom we must give an account.

So the question is: How do we do this? Where do we start on this journey of wisdom?

Wisdom would answer: the fear of the Lord.

As I thought about what would bless you the most today, I kept coming back to this idea of cultivating a fear of God.

What Does It Mean to Fear God?

The word cultivate comes from the word colere, meaning “to till” or “to garden.” This is where we get words like culture, from growing and tending crops to growing and tending human minds.

So as we contemplate what kind of culture we are building here at this institution among our students and among one another, I believe the seed that will come to determine whether our fields are ripe for harvest, or become leaves that eventually wither away and die, is the fear of the Lord.

We can’t sow this into one another as a community unless it is the foundation upon which our individual lives are built.

This is not something we can produce by our own striving, efforts, discipline, or superior techniques. The only way we get Christian behavior is if we have Christian hearts.

The only way we get Christian hearts is if we know God in such a way that our hearts tremble before his beauty and splendor and we are remade from the bottom up, and from the inside out.

The only way we are able to walk in wisdom is if we understand that we get to cultivate a greater love for God because he is the one who is first cultivating us (Philippians 2:13).

For those of us that already fear God, let us understand that humility demands we grow in this fear, bringing holiness to completion.

The Puritan John Owen wrote:

“The fear of the Lord [is] an internal inclination of the heart, disposing it to love him and delight in him above all: to fear the Lord and his goodness, and to fear him for his goodness; to trust in his power and faithfulness; to obey his authority; to delight in his will and grace; to love him above all, because of his excellencies and beauty. This is to glorify him.”

Fundamentally, walking in the fear of the Lord and glorifying Him means that in all we do, our aim is to make God look great.

This is what every image bearer was created to do.

It’s not a paralyzing terror that makes us cower away from him. It’s a sober recognition of who he is that makes us run toward him. He is so great, and awful, and terrifyingly beautiful that we would not dare to be anywhere else but hiding in Him.

Isaiah puts it this way:

“I, I am he who comforts you; who are you that you are afraid of man who dies, of the son of man who is made like grass, and have forgotten the Lord, your Maker, who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth, and you fear continually all the day because of the wrath of the oppressor, when he sets himself to destroy?”

Isaiah 51:12–13

The fear of the Lord comforts us like the roar of a mighty lion thundering against our enemies from over our shoulder.

This is the superior fear that casts out every other terror.

As Hwin the talking horse says to Aslan in the Narnia book The Horse and His Boy, “I’d sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else.”

Our God is not tame. He’s not safe, but he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.

He is in a class all of his own, completely set apart from us, unlike any other created thing. He is utterly unique. Catching but a glimpse of him should cause us to approach in awe of his majesty.

We never approach God flippantly or with a cavalier spirit.

To fear God means to love him more than anything or anyone else because he is the greatest treasure we possess. He occupies the place of supreme importance in my life. To fear him means to revere his supreme worth and matchless value.

Every single fact woven into this universe starts with that truth.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.

If we don’t start with God, we can’t know reality as it actually is and we can’t live rightly in this world.

We must live every moment as if God exists and he is the one with whom we must reckon.

And of course, the centerpiece of reality is Jesus Christ, in whom the Bible tells us are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, who created all things and upholds all things by the word of his power. Him we are called to set apart as holy (1 Peter 3:15).

He is the Supreme Object of our love because he first loved us.

The prophet Isaiah tells us:

“And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. And his delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.”

Isaiah 11:2

The life of the Lord Jesus was radically oriented around doing the will of his Father in heaven for the glory of His Kingdom. This is exactly what he has called us to:

“And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you, but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul…”

Deuteronomy 10:12

This is the type of orientation and heart posture we are made to reflect in every area of our lives.

Drawing the Sail

We acknowledge that unless the Lord builds the house, they who build it labor in vain.

We know that cultivating a rich sense of the fear of the Lord in our lives is not something that can be done by us. It is a work of the Spirit.

Jesus likens the Spirit to trying to control the wind. We do not have the power to command the breeze.

But what can we do to draw our sails so that when God from on high is pleased to breathe upon us it will propel us into heartfelt obedience and service unto him?

I want to consider a few ways we may go about cultivating a greater fear of God in our lives.

1. Know God

“Let us press on to know the Lord.”

We will fear God more when we see him for who he truly is.

The more clearly we know God, the more rightly we respond to God.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.”

Proverbs 9:10

Are we devoting ourselves to the study of God? Are we loving him with all of our minds?

Our hearts are so prone to wander and construct idols made in our image that are not the true and Living God of Scripture.

Ask yourself when you read God’s Word:

“Am I worshipping God for who he has revealed himself to be or for who I would like him to be?”

Are there passages in the Bible that, when you read them, still make you squirm?

The God of the Bible is not one we would ever invent in our own imagination. We should be studying his attributes, his character, his promises, so that we remember who we are dealing with and arrange our lives accordingly.

Are we giving God our attention, so that our affections are shaped by Him?

Because what we love is what drives our behavior.

2. Keep Your Heart Tender Toward Him

“Blessed is the one who fears the Lord always, but whoever hardens his heart will fall into calamity.”

Proverbs 28:14

We cultivate the fear of the Lord by keeping our hearts soft and responsive to his correction.

Have you noticed something about the nature of apostasy? People don’t just wake up one morning and decide to abandon the Christian faith, or their marriages, or their responsibilities.

Spiritual drift takes place slowly and subtly over time.

This is the danger of always being in a Christian environment. Are you truly listening to his voice or has it become background noise?

Are you not only hearing the Word, but also doing it and living it?

Are you staying soft towards God?

Hard hearts don’t happen in one massive failure but in thousands of microscopic compromises.

Are you testing God because you think you know better in your wisdom?

“I know what God says, but I think my way makes more sense.”

“I know this is wrong, but my circumstances make it more understandable.”

“I know having this attitude towards them is wrong, but they really brought it out of me.”

If we are relying on our reason over and against God’s revelation, we are putting him to the test.

If so, repent.

Stay soft in your heart by continuing to behold the Son of God in splendor.

3. Hate Evil

“The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil.”

Proverbs 8:13

We cultivate a fear of the Lord when we learn to hate what God hates.

Fearing the Lord means having a settled opposition against anything that destroys what he loves.

This begins with the sin in our own hearts as we learn to put to death our fleshly desires by the power of the Holy Spirit.

This also means keeping short accounts with one another, confessing sin and always striving to be in fellowship with one another, rather than allowing a root of bitterness to spring up and defile our community.

It means opposing evil wherever we see it, whether in our hearts, amongst our community or even in the public square.

Often, the reason we tolerate evil out there is because we’re tolerating it amongst one another first. We’re so weighed down by the guilt of our own sin that we have no strength to call the world to repentance.

We can’t have brave hearts unless we first have clean hearts.

If we truly love what God loves then we will hate what he hates. I love children, therefore I hate abortion. I love truth, therefore I hate the lying lips of a politician. I love marriage therefore I stand against any force that would seek to redefine the family. I love justice therefore I hate when partiality is shown to the strong in order to oppress the weak.

If we are to fear God, we must have a holy disdain for what angers him.

4. Live Courageously

“The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.”

Proverbs 29:25

The fear of God gives us courage to obey him when we are tempted to fear people.

If we’re fearing God then that means we will take risks to love others and reach them with the truth because we care more about what God thinks.

If we can get along in our lives without ever having to show courage, that means we’ve been compromising.

Whether it’s the courage that we need to share the Gospel with unbelievers, or the courage that we need to stand for righteousness in a godless age, to have the difficult conversation, or make the difficult decision, all of these things should be driven by the fear of God.

When we are courageous, we can give our lives away in the service of others, rather than be focused on self.

That is true freedom.

5. Love God’s Word

“Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who greatly delights in his commandments!”

Psalm 112:1

The fear of the Lord teaches us to delight in God’s wisdom rather than negotiate with it.

Cultivating a fear of the Lord adopts an attitude of heartfelt obedience to God’s commands.

We never want to be people who merely obey the standard because that’s the Christian thing we’re supposed to do, but who love obeying the standard.

God’s commandments are never burdensome. To the Christian, they become a duty of delight.

But here’s the thing, this can only happen if we are constantly bringing ourselves back to the joy of salvation.

6. Rejoice in the Gospel of Our Salvation

“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.”

Psalm 130:3–4

The more deeply we understand God’s mercy, the more deeply we rejoice and reverence Him.

How does marveling at God’s forgiveness lead us to grow in the fear of God?

Because when we think about the grace of the Gospel, and how God saved us, he ransomed us not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of his only Son.

When we constantly consider the sheer vastness of the tremendous cost to God, we begin to wonder once again at the depths of his love.

What did it take to bring peace between you and your Creator?

What price did God have to pay in order to vindicate his holiness and take care of your sins?

It was the sinless Son of God.

That was the price.

And that, more than anything, should cause our knees to go weak as we praise and worship God for his abundant mercy and infinite kindness toward us in Christ.

Thank you, Jesus!

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If you’ve already read Monday’s teaching article, this journal is designed to help you slow down and let God’s Word search your heart. No rush. You can complete it in one sitting or work through it throughout the week.

My prayer is that it becomes a place where the Lord reshapes the way you think through His Word.

THE HEART JOURNAL

There is no timer and no schedule to keep. Complete this journal in one sitting or over several days. Move slowly. The goal is not to finish pages, but to know Christ more deeply, trust Him more fully, and allow His truth to reshape the way you think. Session One — Read Read Isaiah 45:9–12, Psalm 139:13–18, and John 9:1–7. Record your observations below.

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This might seem like a strange phrase for a biblical Christian to use given how enamored our modern culture is with “self.” Self acceptance sounds a lot like the language of self-help, self-esteem, and self-discovery that has become so commonplace in our day. We live in a culture that insists the answer to our deepest struggles is found by looking inward. We are told to believe in ourselves, embrace ourselves, love ourselves, and define ourselves according to our own desires.

These humanistic philosophies have not only dominated secular psychology and culture, but have increasingly found their way into the church. As biblical categories have slowly been replaced with therapeutic ones, many Christians have rightly sought to reaffirm the sufficiency of Scripture for understanding the human heart. I share that conviction wholeheartedly. The Bible is not merely one voice among many competing for our attention. It is God’s authoritative revelation, sufficient to diagnose the deepest problems of mankind and sufficient to provide the only lasting hope for our souls.

For that reason, I reject any understanding of self acceptance that begins with man rather than God.

At the same time, I believe the Scriptures do present a theology of the “self” that we cannot afford to ignore. God has much to say about who we are, why He made us, and how we should think about ourselves in relation to Him. These truths are profoundly different from the self-esteem movements of our age because they do not begin by asking us to think more highly of ourselves. They begin by calling us to think rightly about God.

That starting point changes everything.

The longer I have walked with Christ, the more I have become convinced that what many people describe as a struggle with self acceptance is actually something much deeper. Beneath our dissatisfaction with ourselves often lies a dissatisfaction with God’s wisdom. We may never say those words aloud, but they reveal themselves every time we wish God had made us differently.

Some wrestle with their appearance. Others with their personality. Some struggle with disabilities, chronic illness, anxiety, their family, their abilities, or the circumstances God has ordained for their lives. Whatever form it takes, many people eventually asks some version of the same question:

“God, why did You make me like this?”

That question has echoed through my own heart for most of my life.

Learning self acceptance is not ultimately about learning to admire yourself. It’s not about becoming more confident in your own abilities or learning to celebrate everything about yourself. Rather, it is soul care for the heart that wrestles with its Creator. It is learning to trust that God is wise, that He is good, and that He did not make a mistake when He made you.

Not that I’ve already arrived at that destination. Like Paul, I press on toward the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. This has been one of the great sanctifying works of God in my own life, and I suspect I’m not alone. Every one of us carries something we wish were different about ourselves. The question is not whether that struggle exists. The question is whether we will trust the One who made us.

I know that struggle well because I’ve lived it.

The Boy Who Wanted to Be Someone Else

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Funerals are not.

Yet this year, my son’s tenth birthday began with a funeral.

A dear friend of our family recently passed away after a long battle with illness. She loved Jesus deeply, loved people well, and her absence was felt by everyone who gathered to remember her.

Knowing it was his birthday, we told our son he didn’t have to come. We wanted him to know it was okay to celebrate instead of grieve.

Without hesitation, he said he wanted to be there.

Not because he had to.

Because he wanted to support his friend who lost his Nana.

As parents, we were already proud of that decision. It showed a level of compassion from him that we have come to expect and frankly, take for granted.

But then something happened that none of us expected.

Toward the end of the service, the family invited anyone who wanted to share a memory to come up to the microphone and address everyone in attendance.

There was a brief silence.

Then our ten-year-old stood up.

He was the first person to walk forward.

I remember thinking, Is he really doing this?

Of course he is. I can think of other times where my son’s courage has inspired me before.

This was simply a different setting where there were people he didn’t know.

With remarkable composure he shared something simple but profound: he was thankful that she was with Jesus and that she wasn’t hurting anymore.

It wasn’t a polished speech. He didn’t display dramatic emotion.

Just the sincere hope of a child whose confidence rested in the promises of Christ.

As his parents, we were beaming with pride. We still are.

Not because he spoke publicly.

Not because he was brave enough to stand in front of a room full of grieving adults.

But because his words came from a heart shaped by compassion and anchored in hope.

What made the moment even more meaningful is that he knows something about suffering.

He has watched his mom endure painful health struggles. He’s seen frightening moments that no child should have to witness. He knows what it feels like to wonder if someone you love will be okay.

He’s shed his share of tears in bed at night, cradled in my embrace, asking the hard questions about God and his sovereignty over our lives.

Those experiences could have made him fearful.

Instead, by God’s grace, they have made him compassionate.

He didn’t speak up because he had all the answers.

He spoke because he wanted hurting people to remember the greatest answer of all: that death does not have the final word.

Scripture tells us to “weep with those who weep.” Sometimes we assume that requires having the perfect words.

My son reminded me that it doesn’t.

Sometimes faithfulness simply looks like showing up and stepping forward.

Sometimes courage looks like taking a few nervous steps to a microphone.

Sometimes hope sounds like a ten-year-old reminding a room full of adults that Jesus keeps His promises.

As I watched him walk back to his seat, I realized something.

I thought I had brought him to the funeral.

But God used him to minister to us.

Here’s what is extra sweet about this though.

The lady who passed was the one who brought her daughter to the same church fifteen years ago.

Then, a week later that young woman would invite her friend to come.

That young girl, who was in a dark place, ended up accepting the invitation. She would go on to become my wife, as well as the mother of the child who stepped forward to take the microphone and point everyone towards Jesus.

And there we were, sitting in the same room fifteen years later, listening to our son honor a God-fearing lady whose faithfulness played a role in his very existence to bless that room.

These are the beautiful mysteries of the kingdom of God.

Jesus said that unless we become like little children, we will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Children often believe what adults complicate. They trust where we hesitate. They speak with a simple confidence that reminds us of truths we’ve allowed grief, fear, or busyness to cloud.

On his birthday, I expected to celebrate the life of my son.

Instead, God used my son to remind me how to celebrate the hope of the gospel.

It’s a birthday we will all remember for the rest of our lives.

This might seem like a strange phrase for a biblical Christian to use given how enamored our modern culture is with “self.” Self acceptance sounds a lot like the kind of self-help ideologies that we have become familiar with as secular psychology and worldly therapies have displaced biblical truth in our time.

These humanistic agendas have made inroads into the church of Jesus Christ in recent decades as well, causing believers to reaffirm the sufficiency of the Scriptures to deal with our problems. I believe this instinct is entirely correct and reject any starting point that does not begin with the Bible for diagnosing man’s problems of the heart.

This is why I also believe that the Word of God gives us a theology of the “self” that we should not confuse with contemporary mantras of self-improvement or self-esteem as defined by fallen man.

Learning self-acceptance is soul care for the heart that wrestles with its Creator.

Not that I’ve already arrived at the destination of trusting God for who I am, but one thing I seek to do is press forward to what lies ahead. It is the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus that propels me to come to terms with the way that God made me.

Many people struggle to accept themselves the way they are. Maybe they have a physical or mental disability. It could be that they struggle with something that was passed down to them or is a result of how their environment shaped them. Or it could be that their personality, emotional state, and unique temperament creates friction in their relationships with God and others.

“Woe to him who strives with him who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’ or ‘Your work has no handles’?

Isaiah 45:9.

I was born missing fingers on my right hand and without part of my pectoral muscle.

As a young boy, I knew I was different from other kids. I was reminded of these differences time and again when they stared at me and pointed them out. The snickers, taunts, and looks of pity I endured in my early years replayed in my head over and over.

Out of habit, I developed the protective instinct of hiding my hand in public and when other kids were around. I was ashamed of my disability and the barriers it erected between my peers and me.

From a young age I remember crying out to God and to my parents asking why He would make me like He did.

This put a chip on my shoulder throughout my school years as I was always striving to show everyone else why I was worthy and that they should accept me. I didn’t want to be picked last because I was seen as a detriment to the team’s success. I didn’t want to be left out of social circles or events just because I looked different.

I didn’t want special privileges to even the playing field.

I wanted to earn other people’s approval and was sure I could if they just gave me a chance.

My life was filled with adversity not because of what happened to me, but because of the internal struggle I had going on inside of me.

I couldn’t trust God for who I was.

I didn’t want to accept myself.

In fact, I prayed countless times that God would heal my physical appearance, believing that if He did I could live a much more fulfilling life. At this point, I don’t doubt God’s ability to provide physical healing. But to this day, He never answered that prayer in the way that I would have hoped.

What He has shown me is that my greatest need is not to be healed from what makes me look different.

My greatest need is to accept myself because God loves me and created me the way I am to bring glory to Him, flaws and all.

I see now that a failure to accept myself is actually quarreling with my Maker if I truly believe what God says about Himself.

My God does all things well.

He does not make mistakes.

The disability I have had since birth did not take Him by surprise.

This must mean He had a purpose for making me the way He did.

One of the anchors for reminding my own heart of this comes from Psalm 139:13–16.

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

It is good and right that I should praise God because He made me.

I owe Him everything for the gift of life.

In His perfect wisdom and loving kindness, He knit me together in the womb of my mother with the body, mental abilities, and personality He wanted me to have that would make Him look great.

I am who I am because of God’s sovereign hand upon my life from before I was conceived.

The Great Artist intricately wove me together according to His marvelous design.

My physical, mental, and emotional makeup are what they are because that’s how He made me to be. If He wanted something different, He would have created me that way.

It’s not the impersonal forces of nature, or merely the effects of a fallen world, but God who is responsible for my physical disability.

Why did He do this?

Once again, Scripture is illustrative.

As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.

John 9:1–3.

This story from the Gospels explains the why: that the works of God might be displayed in him.

A man was born blind and lived his whole life blind so that God’s work would be showcased in his life.

The glory of God is worth a man being born blind—or born without fingers and a pectoral muscle.

Here is the key to the longings of my heart for acceptance.

What I so desperately craved from the world was to show myself worthy.

Worthy of being treated the same.

Worthy of love.

Worthy of value, dignity, and honor.

In the Gospel message, every longing is answered.

At the cross of Christ, I am treated the same before God’s law and condemned by the same standard as anyone else (Romans 3:19-20). There is no partiality with God. He doesn’t look at man’s outward appearance in matters of judgment. He looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).

I am guilty for my sins.

I deserve hell, just like everyone else.

Yet God chose to forgive me, redeem me in Jesus Christ, giving me all the purpose and acceptance I could ever desire.

I was never worthy.

But I was made—and am being renewed by the Redeemer—to show how worthy He is of every infirmity.

He loves me and wants to use the way He created me to glorify Himself through me.

He alone knows what’s best for me and is loving enough to use everything I perceive as weakness to manifest His unfailing strength and power to save.

Not only that, He is sovereign enough to not allow my defects to stop Him from bringing glory to His own name.

In fact, because He made me the way He did, this will ensure that His name is magnified as I learn day by day to trust in Him for the way that I am.

The only proper response is thanksgiving, worship, and a commitment to use these infirmities in a way that honors Him.

He has a plan for me.

He ordained all of my days in advance before one of them came to be.

His creation of me and His plan for me are inseparable.

He equipped me for the unique purposes He has for me.

And, dear reader, the same is true for you.

Whatever your limitations, trust God for who you are.

He made you just the way you are, flaws and all, because He knows what’s best for you and wants to use you uniquely to bring Him glory.

He loves you.

Give Him your infirmity and tell Him He is worthy of it all.

You can stop wrestling with your Maker.

In retrospect, it was the right choice. But it didn’t come without consequence.

I stood on principle and didn’t look back. I knew things would never be the same again. And they haven’t been.

I’m thankful for the growth God has brought in my life and in my marriage as a result. My children have not wanted for much of anything. I’m grateful that He has now put me in a place where I am able to work alongside other believers in the high calling of educating the next generation. He provided the opportunity for something new, and I walked through the door.

With that has come new relationships and unexpected avenues of His provision.

None of this changes the reality that I still need help.

If I’m honest, it feels silly—needy, even desperate—to write something like this on a blog.

For years, people saw me as a public figure because of my face on the internet. They praised me from afar and told me how much my words and ministry meant to them. Some still do.

I was always humbled that anyone listened and found value in what I had to say. Glory to God.

Few people, however, have known the real me.

Fewer have had a front-row seat to my sins like those closest to me. That’s probably because I never really let anyone.

My insecurity.

My indecisiveness.

My complacency.

All the things I often imagine would disqualify me from God’s grace.

Yet I praise Him that none of those things have, or ever will.

Even so, I still struggle for hope sometimes.

Choices have consequences—even when they are the right ones.

Life doesn’t stop.

Decisions still need to be made. Needs still have to be met. Your people still need your leadership, your care, your protection, and your provision while you bear the weight.

Expenses only increase, even when half of your income disappears and you don’t possess many marketable skills.

I imagine there are other young men walking this same road.

For millennials like me, this world is very different from the one we grew up in. At times, it feels designed for me to fail in the calling God has given me.

Everywhere I look, I see the forces of darkness arrayed against this way of life.

All I want is to be faithful where God has placed me in the moment He has placed me.

Some have resorted to bitterness and resentment.

I would rather resign myself to the Lord and His mercy, for I deserve none of His kindness.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I lack understanding.

I see my need to navigate this world skillfully, and I know I am ill-equipped.

If anything, the last several months have impressed upon me that I am in over my head.

I need wisdom.

With Agur, I confess:

“Surely I am too stupid to be a man. I have not the understanding of a man.”

— Proverbs 30:2

And the words of Solomon’s prayer ring continually in my ears:

“And now, O Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of David my father, although I am but a little child. I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of your people whom you have chosen, a great people, too many to be numbered or counted for multitude. Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, that I may discern between good and evil, for who is able to govern this your great people?”

— 1 Kings 3:7–9

Please don’t misunderstand me.

This is not a pity party.

Nor is it a cry for help.

It is simply the recognition that I am a king who needs to be fitted by the King to rule better.

To rule myself.

To shepherd the people under my care.

And I lack.

So with Solomon I pray:

Lord, I can’t do this on my own. I need Your help. Show me what to do. Give me wisdom so I can take the actions my people need in order to thrive under my leadership. I do not know how to go out or come in. Intervene on behalf of Your servant and show me the way.

I believe this is a prayer the Lord delights to answer.

His faithfulness endures forever.

If any part of this resonates with you today, I would be grateful if you would remember my family in your prayers as we seek the King of kings and His help for the days ahead.

Together, let us take heart in the Father of mercies, who provides for all His children and delights to give good gifts to those who ask Him.

As we were going through a green light, the driver of the vehicle coming the other direction decided to make a left turn directly in front of us and I had to slam on my brakes in order to avoid the collision.

As we continued driving, my heart was racing knowing that we were much closer to an accident than my children realized.

I immediately had the inclination to begin praying and thanking God for keeping us safe.

If we’re honest, I don’t believe we do this nearly enough.

I know I certainly don’t give God glory when I arrive secure and intact at every destination. We simply take for granted that we’re going to get where we’re going and back in one piece.

Scripture has a lot to say about presuming on the grace of God. Yahweh judges his people throughout history for presumptive sins that forget to acknowledge him for his faithfulness, without continuing to live in humble dependence on his saving mercy.

This is not only true from an eternal perspective. It is a principle that touches our lives at the most mundane level.

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.

James 4:13–17

Notice that James, the New Testament book on wisdom reminds us that when it comes to all of our coming and going, God is in complete control of our fragile lives.

We are vapors who do not know what tomorrow will bring. We do not have the power to guarantee our continued existence apart from a dependence on his pure grace.

This is why our thinking, decisions and actions should all be governed by a recognition of his total sovereignty over every moment of our lives.

We do not boast in our arrogance as if our abilities, achievements, or the power of our superior planning will see us through.

What’s particularly striking to me is the last verse in this section: “so whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”

We know this is speaking to the reality that God not only expects us to stop doing what is wrong, but to positively do what he commands in alignment with his revealed will. Failure to do so is identified as sin.

Here’s the question, what is the sin James is referring to in light of the immediate context?

It is the failure to live like we are finite and God is infinite.

At bottom, it is a failure to fear God and reckon with the fact that he is the one who has granted us our breaths and heartbeats. We often move about freely and carelessly without considering that these things only happen “if he wills.”

According to Romans 1, the most fundamental sin is a failure to acknowledge God and give thanks to Him when His blessings of care, protection and provision are so abundantly visible that we are without excuse for doing so.

How many more car rides has he allowed you to have where you hurriedly arrive at your destination only to forget his mercy in allowing you to get there safely?

We got home today because the Lord willed it.

Things could have been different.

He was pleased to show us favor and for that it is good and fitting that we should praise Him.

This should be our way of life.

It shouldn’t take a near death experience to remind us to give thanks.

May these vapors never presume on the Lord’s kindness.

Think about it.

Everyone experiences suffering. Hardships and trials mark the human race. We all experience loss, adversity, and various afflictions.

But there’s something unique about suffering for righteousness sake.

Unbelieving suffering, that is, suffering outside of Christ, can never result in joy. It may teach non-Christians lessons about the importance of community, personal discipline, and maybe even self-sacrifice. But I have never seen an unbeliever rejoice in the midst of sorrow.

That can only come from a Christian perspective of eternity with an intimate awareness that suffering has purpose.

That transcendent meaning points to an unshakable reality beyond the loss that has infinite value.

Hardship does not create it, but simply reveals it.

All hardship involves the loss of something or someone we value.

We value health when our bodies are in pain.

We value relationships when our friends and family leave us.

We value hard work when the fruits of our labor go up in smoke.

We value safety when our lives and families face threats to our well being.

We value power when the situations we try to control go south.

We believe these to be important, which is why suffering their loss shakes us to the core.

But believers know there is an unshakable hope revealed in the absence of everything we hold dear.

A hope that thieves cannot steal, that the elements cannot touch, and that death itself cannot take away.

This is a superior hope that is greater than all other earthly treasures.

It is the hope of Jesus Christ and the eternal inheritance that he holds for every faithful saint.

The promise that he holds out for his own is that all of their suffering is productive. His love is such that it can bend every hardship toward the service of his people and use it to bring glory to his name.

When we are able to lose everything because we know that we get to keep Jesus, this makes God look great to the world.

Anything that hardship can take or prosperity can give pales in comparison to the one with everlasting treasures at his right hand.

He is infinitely valuable.

Infinitely worthy.

Infinitely satisfying.

And this is why there is always reason to rejoice, even in the midst of the hardship.

Today I’m reminded that there is time for every season under heaven, including a time for mourning and lamentation (Ecclesiastes 3:1–4).

As Christians who have grown up under the blanket of western civilization with all of its creaturely comforts, lamentation can be a foreign concept to us. We tend to push things like suffering and death away from our consciousness. We live in a steady stream of endless entertainment and distraction so that we don’t have to think about such things until they come crashing down on us.

But Scripture tells us that the heart of the wise is in the house of mourning (Ecclesiastes 7:2–4). I suspect that because God has put eternity into our hearts that this is where he desires our ultimate focus.

We must come to grips with the reality that we live between the poles of death’s defeat and the consummation of all things where death itself will be destroyed. The grave has been overcome, and yet we are still shedding tears and feeling the pain of loss when we grieve as those with the hope of eternal life.

Until then, wisdom can be found in the halls of mourning because our lament serves to usher in the great consummation. We know the world is broken. We are groaning with creation for the final redemption of all things, working together with God now as agents of this renewal.

Our hearts are yearning for it all to be made new.

The shadows are deepening, but they will not be able to stop the light from getting through.

Our tears have a critical role to play in God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven. We long for the return of our Bridegroom.

Although we do not now see him, we look forward to the day when he will wipe away every tear and there will be no more pain, mourning or death.

None of the tears we cry are ever shed in vain. When they are shed in Christ, the Kingdom draws nearer. He knows them all, just as he knows the hairs of our head and each day of our lives.

He has given meaning to all of these, ordaining the sorrows for his glory and our good.

You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?

-Psalm 56:8

It jolts us out of our routines and shakes us awake from our lethargic slumber. Most effectively, it takes our focus off of ourselves and our problems which seem so consuming.

Death is the ultimate perspective.

It brings to our memory the often forgotten fact that time is limited. One day, we will live the last day we were destined to live. We will wake up for the last time. Go to bed for the last time. Kiss our kids for the last time. Eat our last meal. Get dressed one more time, and a million other unconscious choices we make every day.

When someone in our circle passes on, our worries suddenly don’t seem so threatening. We tend to slow down and begin operating with a sense of purpose.

This life isn’t all there is. There’s something else coming that makes these moments in time feel small compared to what will last forever.

Maybe death has the ability to focus our minds because it reminds us that how we spend our hours counts before the eyes of heaven. We get lost in the illusion that we’re just going to be granted tomorrow and that the Lord won’t demand our lives.

Are we alert?

Are we watchful of the passing moments?

Are we just seeking to pass time or are we redeeming the time?

What we see as wasted time is actually time that is being invested, whether intentionally or carelessly?

So, where are we pouring in?

Who are the people that need our investment?

What gardens have we been given to tend, water, harvest, and protect?

This is what matters most.

Serving the Lord by spending our days loving those he has given us.

It’s striking to me that as Paul is comforting believers who have faced loss in the early church with the coming of the Lord, that he calls on them to be vigilant:

For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober. For those who sleep, sleep at night, and those who get drunk, are drunk at night. But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, having put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.

1 Thessalonians 5:4-11

Death is coming for us all. But be encouraged. God has not destined us for wrath, but for obtaining salvation.

Let us live ready to meet the Lord, with faith working in love.

One day we will breathe our last and enter into the joy of our Master to “well done, good and faithful servant.”

When we read the greatest sermon ever preached, it is almost as though we can hear the soundtrack of a father instructing his son in the book of Proverbs. The voice of wisdom echoes through the Sermon on the Mount. Christ is not abandoning the wisdom tradition of Israel; He is revealing Himself as its fulfillment.

The book of Proverbs reminds us that the first step toward wisdom is the recognition that we lack it. “The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom” (Proverbs 4:7). Wisdom is not stumbled upon accidentally. We are commanded to pursue it. Solomon exhorts the son to “raise your voice for understanding” and “seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures” (Proverbs 2:3–4).

The implication is profound: our treasure reveals what we value most. Wisdom is to be desired above riches because wisdom teaches us to treasure what God treasures. Christ takes up this same theme in the Sermon on the Mount when He commands us not to lay up treasures on earth “where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal,” but instead to lay up treasures in heaven that cannot perish (Matthew 6:19–21).

The treasures of the Kingdom cannot be stolen, corrupted, or exhausted. They anchor the soul because they are rooted in God Himself.

Seeking the Kingdom First

This is why Jesus repeatedly calls His disciples to ask, seek, and knock (Matthew 7:7–11). Like the son in Proverbs crying out for wisdom, the believer seeks all that he needs from his heavenly Father, trusting that God delights to give good gifts to His children. Wisdom recognizes that man is not self-sufficient. True wisdom lives dependently before God.

In reverential awe of who God is, wisdom rightly orders our loves and priorities. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:7), and Christ teaches that this rightly ordered life seeks first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness (Matthew 6:33). Wisdom trains us to reject divided loyalties because “no one can serve two masters” (Matthew 6:24). The wise man learns to hate double-mindedness and pursue wholehearted allegiance to God.

The Righteousness of the Kingdom

This wisdom also produces true righteousness. Proverbs consistently contrasts the righteous and the wicked, not merely externally but at the level of the heart (Proverbs 4:23). Jesus deepens this reality in the Sermon on the Mount by exposing a righteousness that exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees (Matthew 5:20).

Kingdom righteousness is not performative religion designed to be seen by men. It is a righteousness that flows from a transformed heart.

Christ warns against practicing righteousness “before other people in order to be seen by them” (Matthew 6:1). Whether giving, praying, or fasting, the concern of the righteous man is not public applause but pleasing his Father who sees in secret (Matthew 6:2–18). This righteousness rests ultimately in God’s saving deliverance and responds to His grace with covenant faithfulness.

Treasuring the Law in the Heart

This is why wisdom treasures the law of God internally. The blessed man delights in God’s law (Psalm 1:2), and Proverbs commands the son, “Let your heart keep my commandments” (Proverbs 3:1).

Jesus assumes this same inward reality throughout the Sermon on the Mount. The Kingdom citizen does not merely avoid murder; he puts away sinful anger (Matthew 5:21–22). He does not merely avoid adultery; he wages war against lust (Matthew 5:27–30). The law is treasured in the heart because the heart loves the God whose character the law reveals.

The moral law is not arbitrary. It reflects the very character of God woven into the fabric of creation itself. Wisdom recognizes this and therefore submits joyfully to God’s commands.

Christ, the Embodiment of Wisdom

But Christ does not merely teach wisdom; He embodies it. The call of wisdom becomes incarnational in the Sermon on the Mount because Jesus Himself is Wisdom Incarnate.

The son in Proverbs is constantly exhorted to listen. “Hear, my son, and accept my words” (Proverbs 4:10). In the Sermon on the Mount, the greater Son speaks with divine authority: “You have heard that it was said… but I say to you” (Matthew 5:21–48).

The disciples are not merely called to admire wisdom abstractly; they are called to look to Christ Himself and imitate Him. Our original calling to image God, corrupted by sin, is being restored as we behold the glory of Christ and are conformed to His image (Romans 8:29; 2 Corinthians 3:18).

The Single Eye and Undivided Allegiance

This is why Jesus’ warning about the eye is so crucial. “The eye is the lamp of the body” (Matthew 6:22–23). Proverbs similarly warns the son to keep his eyes fixed straight ahead and not swerve from the path of righteousness (Proverbs 4:25–27).

What we behold shapes us. Our allegiance must therefore be pure and undivided.

The call to holiness is ultimately the call to imitate God. Jesus commands, “You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). Peter echoes this command: “Be holy, for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:15–16). We are to love because He first loved us, and we are to love others as Christ has loved us (John 13:34).

The Measure We Use

This love is not sentimentalism detached from God’s law. Biblical love fulfills the law (Romans 13:10). The chief principle remains unchanging throughout Scripture: the measure we use will be measured back to us.

Christ says, “With the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you” (Matthew 7:2). Proverbs echoes this covenantal principle repeatedly. Whoever digs a pit for another will fall into it himself (Proverbs 26:27). Whoever closes his ear to the cry of the poor will himself call out and not be answered (Proverbs 21:13). The righteous are repaid on earth, and how much more the wicked and the sinner (Proverbs 11:31).

This same principle reverberates throughout Scripture. Obadiah declares, “As you have done, it shall be done to you; your deeds shall return on your own head” (Obadiah 15). Paul echoes the same reality when he warns that “whatever one sows, that will he also reap” (Galatians 6:7).

The wicked weaponize reciprocity for vengeance, but the righteous apply it through mercy, generosity, forgiveness, and covenant faithfulness. This is why Jesus summarizes Kingdom ethics with the Golden Rule: “Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12).

Greater Than Solomon

When we compare Proverbs with the Sermon on the Mount, we discover that Jesus is the fullest expression of wisdom itself. Solomon was a shadow; Christ is the substance.

The Queen of Sheba traversed the desert to hear Solomon’s wisdom (1 Kings 10:1–9), but Jesus declares, “something greater than Solomon is here” (Matthew 12:42).

How much greater, then, is the accountability of those who hear the voice of Wisdom Incarnate?

Christ does not call us merely to admire His teaching intellectually. He calls us to build our lives upon it. The prudent son of Proverbs recognizes danger and turns away from it (Proverbs 22:3), but the greatest danger is not temporal hardship, it is refusing the Lordship of Christ.

Building on the Rock

This wisdom is what we desperately need for present faithfulness and final judgment alike.

Jesus concludes the Sermon on the Mount with the image of two builders. The wise man is not merely the hearer of Christ’s words but the doer of them:

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock” (Matthew 7:24).

The wise builder is the one who hears the voice of Wisdom Incarnate and obeys.

Summer is upon us in the desert.

The heat is setting in.

The sun is rising earlier.

Now is the time where we generally make excuses to stay indoors for the next 6 months.

I’m sure I’ll get there when temperatures soar to the mid 110’s.

But today I felt renewed.

Over the summer I made a loose agreement with myself to read Proverbs every day.

Whether one chapter or the whole book, “in all toil there is profit.”

Something struck me after my first few times through.

The concept of wisdom has become overly spiritualized, especially in the church.

Our age equates wisdom with experts throwing out fortune cookie soundbites.

The culture loves talking heads that are superficially profound but morally bankrupt.

Our sources of knowledge and understanding are futile.

They offer us little value other than to entertaining us with information we never apply.

Like a house of cards that’ll come down with one stiff breeze.

But Biblical wisdom is different.

It’s earthy. Blue collar. Hard won.

It’s foundation is the fear of the Lord.

And nothing could be more practical.

This thought occurred to me while I was doing yard work this morning.

Driving back the weeds, ploughing the sacred space God has allowed me to steward.

Space to reflect as I plodded along diligently.

I looked down at my hand and saw the skin coming off from the garden hoe.

The fruit of my effort.

The reward for doing battle against the wilderness.

I put down my tool of dominion and laughed.

Oh the mundanity.

Simple joy found in normal productivity.

The work has to be done.

But must it be without mirth?

For it to be real work, need it lack merriness?

May it never be.

For the Maker sees this humble offering.

The toil offered under the sun that sweats.

That bleeds.

And he smiles.

This is enough to make his creature delight.

For he is good to provide both the work and the joy that comes from the toil.

Wisdom is won through subduing creation for his glory.

Work is worship.

So touch the dirt and you’ll have something worthy with which to stroke the keyboard.

Whether weeds or words, all things praise His Name.

Not only is this position out of step with the witness of the Christian church throughout history, it is also an affront to the God of heaven whose wrath burns against the sin of child sacrifice and the nations who practice such abominations. (Leviticus 18:21, Psalm 106:37–40)

As has pointed out in his response to Klusendorf, the modern Pro Life movement has emphasized an educational campaign to change the hearts and minds of the culture in general and young women in particular for decades. I was constantly exposed to their failed methodology for years working in the cause for abolition. It was a failure then and it remains a failure now because Big Pro Life does not rest its authority on the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the foundation of God’s Word in the fight against abortion.

Central to their strategy is the idea that women must be exposed to the lies of the abortion industry, media, education system, and pop culture so that they have their eyes opened to the fact that what’s in the womb is truly human. Then, once the scales fall and public opinion shifts, there will be enough support for the Pro Life cause and the full outlawing of human abortion.

But here’s the problem: abortion numbers are higher than ever post-Roe. Child murder is more accessible, affordable, anonymous and convenient than it’s ever been. Waiting for an indeterminate period of time before establishing justice, coupled together with the failed strategy of the modern Pro Life movement’s education campaign, betrays two Biblical realities.

The Role of Sin in the Human Heart

In his article, Klusendorf pragmatically argues that securing a conviction for aborting mothers is infeasible, and one of the main reasons that equal protection should be opposed. He ties this to the woman’s ignorance. She doesn’t know what the abortionist knows.

Not only is this patently false by observing our bloodthirsty culture’s obsession with death and love of self, it rests on an unbiblical anthropology.

Starting with the Bible, we are reminded that all human beings know the true God, but reject the revelation in creation. (Romans 1:18–25) Central to this is the natural function of our bodies as men and women. Only a fool would argue in our day that this is not what we are witnessing as men and women forsake the design of their bodies, truth that all of us inherently know as image bearers of God.

The Scriptures are abundantly clear that our problem is not a lack of light or evidence, but a sinful suppression of the truth about the Creator and our created purposes. This means that in spite of cultural indoctrination, every woman knows that being pregnant means carrying a human life.

If the problem is “she just doesn’t know,” then the solution will not be the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of her sins, but more information. This is why the authority of Christ and His Word must be at the forefront of the abortion discussion.

The Role of the Law in Changing Culture

The other reality that Klusendorf and Big Pro Life don’t seem to grasp, whether unintentionally or on purpose, is the role of law in shaping culture.

For decades, the modern Pro Life movement has advanced legislation that exempts women from facing any criminal prosecution for taking the lives of their own children in the womb.

In his article, he rightly highlights the cultural indoctrination that has occurred in our nation:

“For half a century, American women were told that abortion was not only a legal right but a positive moral good. Major institutions—academia, law, politics, entertainment, media, and even mainline denominations—reinforced that view, and still do. At the same time, the teaching of basic biology surrounding prenatal development was, and is, all but absent in public schools. Many medical professionals and parents consider teaching these facts propaganda.”

Acknowledging these realities, we must also acknowledge that conservatives, Christians and Pro Lifers of every stripe have been complicit with this apostate cultural indoctrination as well.

How so?

By pushing legislation that automatically grants aborting mothers legal immunity and impunity for the crime of murder, the majority of the Pro Life movement has taught the culture that when a woman procures an abortion, she is doing nothing wrong.

After all, if abortion is not illegal for everyone, how can we insist that babies in the womb are full human beings and are just as deserving of every legal protection as everyone else?

Here is the heart-rending irony.

Klusendorf and Pro Life Inc believe that the culture is not ready for justice yet (i.e. all parties held legally accountable for murder). They argue we need to educate the masses to get the favorable political conditions needed to pass our true intention (equal justice). But the fatal flaw of this mindset is that legislation which automatically acquits the guilty is educating women and the culture in the opposite direction.

Every bill they support that exempts women undermines the central claim of Pro Lifers that anyone who commits an abortion intentionally kills an innocent human. If the baby in the womb is actually human, why is that human not protected like everyone else?

The Gospel, the Law, and Justice

It is only in understanding human nature as the Bible teaches that we will ground our Pro-life advocacy in the Gospel and its power to save sinners. The Holy Spirit must be the one to open the eyes of abortion-minded mothers, and the culture at large, to the horror of sin and the only hope of Christ.

Additionally, it is only in legislating what we say we mean in accordance with the truth that the culture will be taught what is right.

If we say it’s a human life in the womb, and that it must be illegal for anyone to take that life, then we must write laws that tutor the unrighteous as to the requirements of God.

The law is a tutor. (Galatians 3:24) Some of its chief functions are to punish the lawless (Romans 13:1–4), but also to hold out divine standards to the world of righteous and unrighteous conduct.

When we publish righteous laws that say no one is allowed to commit murder, even in an abortion, the culture is informed as to what is right.

Lastly, we should be much more concerned about appeasing the wrath of God against our nation for committing child sacrifice than we are appeasing the very culture that hates God. (Isaiah 5:20, Proverbs 14:34)

Christians should bask in these realities and allow themselves to be consumed by the love of Christ and the beauty of his heart toward sinners. However, this should always be held in tension with the images that we receive from the inspired Word of God that depict Christ as a Conquering Warrior and a Fearful Judge. The book of Revelation especially reminds us of this side of Jesus that has been minimized in our day with the ascent of a feminized church. To be sure, different portraits have been emphasized at different times for different reasons, but the masculine Jesus on display in John’s vision captures something that the modern evangelical church desperately needs to recover.

As John is given the vision of the Risen and Reigning Lord, here are seven things that leap off the page about Jesus:

Fearful Judge

John crumbles before the presence of Christ and has to be personally comforted by Jesus.

“When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘Fear not…’”
— Revelation 1:17

The Christ in view here is not be trifled with. He is not a God who we casually stroll into the presence of flippantly. His face is shining in its full strength with the brightness of glory. His beauty hurts to see for it is both glorious and terrifying. Here, we see what it means to fear the Lord. His glory makes our knees buckle, but at the same time is able to pull us up to our feet and robe us in the safety of eternal refuge.

Very God of Very God

Not to be academic, but only one who is deity himself dwelling in bodily form could command such a response from mere mortals. He reveals himself as the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last. Only Yahweh, the true God of the Bible, self-existent, self-sustaining, the Creator of the ends of the earth is the First and the Last. When human beings bow down before Jesus, it is because the unanimous truth of Scripture expects us to know Him as God and worship as such. This is why later in Revelation John is directed by the angel to worship God alone (Revelation 22). Jesus receives worship.

All Authority

Jesus holds the seven stars in his right hand. In the Bible, stars symbolize rule and power. Christ, unlike the Caesars of the first century who were believed to have command of the stars, and even control over life and death, are held in the hand of the one who has authority over all earthly rulers and holds them accountable to his all powerful word (Revelation 1:16). Not only is he the Ruler of kings on earth, but he draws near in judgment over worldly powers to exercise justice among the nations and for those who disobey His Word.

Conqueror of Death

No one is like Jesus because no one else has conquered death. The resurrection of Christ has earth shattering implications for the entire world because the One who trampled death is the one who has the right to tell everyone else what to do. Unlike the founders of other world religions and the self-styled deities of men who wear fading crowns, the King of kings took the worst that death had to offer and emerged in triumphant victory, trampling our greatest enemy under his feet. He alone holds the keys of Death and Hades. He alone knows the way out of the grave because he left behind an empty tomb.

Judge of the Church

Jesus holds the church in his hand and walks among the lampstands throughout every age to ensure the faithfulness of His Bride. The one who was raised victorious commands the angels of the churches to deliver the divinely inspired mail he has delivered to them. The church is to hear these words from the True and Faithful Witness, receive them as the Word of God, and obey them wholeheartedly. For churches that disobey, Christ comes and personally removes their lampstands. This covenantal presence flows from God’s control and authority over all things. He is the Head of the church and he draws near to bless and to curse. The call is that his people would persevere in the provision of comfort that he gives. He sees their toil. He knows their tribulation. And he will ultimately vindicate those who truly belong to Him whose faith is purified through suffering.

The Reigning Lord

This is an enthralling portrait of the reigning Lord, the one who governs all of history for his glory. He is the one who is and who was and who is to come. He is in full possession of the Spirit’s power, shining radiantly in the fullness of glory. Nothing is hidden from this enthroned Son of Man whose eyes are like flaming fire. He has ascended to the Right hand of the Father, pouring out his Spirit upon his people to live faithfully as overcomers. He reigns and rules over the kingdoms of men and sovereignly ordains all that comes to pass. There is nothing weak about this Jesus. His face is like the sun shining in its full strength.

Redeemer and Kingmaker

There is yet another glory in this vision that must not be overlooked. The One whose face shines in radiant strength is the same One who has loved us and freed us from our sins by his blood (Revelation 1:5). His victory was not secured by raw display of power alone, but through the shedding of his own blood to redeem a people for himself. And this redemption is not merely deliverance, but transformation. He has made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father. Those once bound in sin are now brought near, consecrated for service, and established under his reign. There is nothing weak about this Jesus. The blood that frees is the blood of a conquering King, and the people he saves are raised up to share in his rule and reflect his glory.

Here’s the irony: pastors don’t want to politicize the church by applying Scripture to the issues of our day because they want to “focus on the gospel.” All that does is invite apostate politics into the church, because they will not preach against the sins of our age.

This leads to parishioners thinking behaviors that God detests are acceptable. This uncritical adoption of the status quo becomes cultural norms, which then become public policy—eventually codified into laws that militate against the church and Christian moral norms.

Then pastors and churches are perplexed as to why evil is advancing in our day.

Of course, secularism and its corrosive influence on society have been devastating. Of course, paganism in various forms is once again rearing its head. But what has the church allowed to happen under our watch by failing to proclaim the full counsel of God’s Word and the Gospel of the Kingdom?

Largely, we have become negligent man-pleasers who care too much about the approval of people and not enough about pleasing God. Refusing to preach to the heart on what are fundamentally moral issues—not merely political ones—has not produced spiritually healthy Christians who can engage a decadent culture with truth.

If we won’t get our house in order and preach on sin, judgment, God’s holiness, and the reign of Christ, we will be utterly steamrolled by our adversaries. God will not bless a timid church.

We have His Holy Spirit. We have His Word. We have the assurance of His presence.

Let us trust Him, get our households in order, and prepare to bear the reproach He endured as we advance His kingdom in the world.

Does this make sense to me?
Do I agree with this?
Does this fit with how I see things?

It feels responsible. It feels thoughtful. But underneath it is a dangerous reversal.

We begin to act as if our understanding is the standard by which God’s Word is measured.

Scripture never gives us that role.

God’s Word is not true because we can fully explain it. It is not reliable because it aligns with our instincts. It is not authoritative because it fits neatly within our categories.

It is true because God has spoken.

The problem is not that we think. The problem is what we do with our thinking.

Instead of bringing our minds under the authority of Scripture, we often place Scripture under the authority of our minds. We sit in judgment over what God has said, deciding what feels reasonable, what seems fair, and what we are willing to accept.

That posture doesn’t lead to clarity. It leads to distortion.

Because the issue is not with God’s Word. The issue is with us.

Our understanding is limited. It is shaped by sin, influenced by culture, and often driven by preference. There are things God has revealed that will confront and even unsettle us. That should not be surprising. We are finite. He is not.

If everything about God made immediate sense to us, He would not be God.

This is where Scripture gives us a very different direction.

We are not called to filter God’s truth through our thinking. We are called to bring our thinking into submission to His truth.

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5)

We normally associate this verse with the apologetic task of reaching outsiders. But rarely do we apply it to ourselves. The command applies to our own reasoning as well. It’s intentional. It’s active. It assumes that our thoughts will drift, that arguments will rise up, and that opinions will try to position themselves above what God has said.

And it calls us to deal with that directly.

Taking thoughts captive means we don’t automatically trust them. We examine them. We test them. We ask whether they align with Scripture or stand in opposition to it.

Some thoughts need to be corrected. Others need to be rejected entirely.

Because not everything that feels true is true.

This is where many Christians struggle. We want to honor God’s Word, but we also want it to make sense on our terms. When it doesn’t, we feel tension. And instead of letting that tension drive us toward deeper trust, we try to resolve it by reshaping what Scripture says.

We soften it. We reinterpret it. We explain it away.

All of that keeps us in control.

But we are to submit to God’s truth, not enter into negotiation with God’s truth.

He has called us to trust Him.

That doesn’t mean we abandon thinking. It means we rightly order it. Our minds are not the authority. They are the instrument. They are meant to be shaped, corrected, and renewed by what God has said.

This is where growth actually happens.

Not when we feel confident in our own understanding, but when we are willing to let Scripture challenge it. Not when everything fits neatly, but when we trust God even where it stretches us.

Over time, something shifts.

Instead of asking, “Does this make sense to me?” we begin asking, “Has God said it?”

Instead of trying to bring God down to our level, we allow His truth to lift our thinking higher.

This is the difference between a self-centered approach to truth and a God-centered one.

A self-centered approach starts with autonomy. It assumes that the individual has the right and the ability to determine what is true. God’s Word becomes something to evaluate.

A God-centered approach starts with revelation. It recognizes that truth comes from outside of us. God’s Word becomes the standard that evaluates us.

That distinction changes everything.

Because if your understanding is the standard, truth will always shift. It will expand or contract based on your perspective, your experiences, and your preferences.

But if God’s Word is the standard, truth remains fixed. It doesn’t bend. It doesn’t adjust. It stands.

And that’s exactly what we need.

Not a truth that adapts to us, but a truth that anchors us.

So the question isn’t whether you think deeply. It’s whether your thinking is submitted.

Are you using your understanding to measure God’s Word?

Or are you allowing God’s Word to measure your understanding?

One places you at the center.

The other puts God where He belongs.

And only one of those leads to truth.

From his anointing onward, the favor of Yahweh rests on David. Scripture repeatedly emphasizes that the Lord gives him victory wherever he goes (2 Samuel 8:6, 8:14). David prospers because God is present with him.

That makes his sin in 2 Samuel 11 all the more devastating.

When David takes Bathsheba and orchestrates the death of Uriah, the prophet Nathan confronts him and announces judgment. The consequences are personal and immediate. Evil will rise against David from within his own house (2 Samuel 12:10-11), and the child born from this union will be struck with illness.

“The Lord afflicted the child that Uriah’s wife bore to David, and he became sick.” (2 Samuel 12:15)

The text does not soften this at all. The affliction is attributed to God. This is covenantal judgment.

A Common Interpretation

This passage is often cited in discussions about what happens to infants who die. When David says,

“I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23)

some take this as a statement of confidence that the child is in heaven, and therefore as indirect support for the idea that all infants who die are saved.

That’s a serious theological claim and I would hesitate to make it on the basis of one verse. It asks more of the text than the text is trying to give.

The focus of this passage is not to resolve the eternal destiny of infants. It is to show the weight of David’s sin, the certainty of God’s judgment, and the shape of David’s repentance.

The Weight of Judgment

The death of the child is not presented as an isolated event. It is explicitly tied to David’s sin.

“Because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child who is born to you shall die.” (2 Samuel 12:14)

The child suffers as a result of David’s actions. The situation is meant to feel heavy. Scripture doesn’t try to relieve that tension quickly.

At the same time, Nathan also declares something remarkable:

“The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” (2 Samuel 12:13)

Judgment and mercy appear side by side. David doesn’t receive the death penalty his sin deserves, yet consequences still unfold within his household.

David’s Response

David’s behavior during the child’s illness is intense. He fasts, weeps, and lies on the ground, pleading with God.

“David therefore sought God on behalf of the child. And David fasted and went in and lay all night on the ground.” (2 Samuel 12:16)

He holds onto the possibility of mercy:

“Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child may live?” (2 Samuel 12:22)

But once the child dies, everything changes.

“Then David arose from the earth and washed and anointed himself and changed his clothes. And he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped.” (2 Samuel 12:20)

He stops fasting. He eats. He worships.

This confuses his servants, but David explains his reasoning. While the child was alive, there was still room to plead.

After death, there is no reversal.

What Does “I Shall Go to Him” Mean?

David’s statement needs to be read in that context:

“I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23)

The emphasis is not on the destination of the child, but on the finality of death. David is acknowledging a universal human reality. The child cannot come back to the land of the living, but David will one day join him in death.

This language is consistent with how the Old Testament often speaks about death as going down to Sheol, the realm of the dead (see Genesis 37:35; Job 7:9-10; Ecclesiastes 9:10). It is a statement about inevitability, not a detailed description of the afterlife.

David is not offering a systematic theology of infant salvation. He is expressing acceptance of an irreversible judgment.

From David to the Greater Son

But this passage doesn’t end in silence. It points forward.

The story of David always moves toward the promise of a greater Son. After judgment falls, hope is not extinguished. It’s redirected.

The New Testament presents Jesus as that promised Son of David (Matthew 1:1; Romans 1:3). And his relationship to death reframes everything we see in 2 Samuel 12.

During his earthly ministry, Jesus explains why his disciples do not fast:

“Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? … The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.” (Mark 2:19-20; see also Matthew 9:15)

Fasting belongs to absence, to longing, to the ache created by separation.

David fasted because he was staring down the barrel of a separation he would not be able to overcome. Death creates a boundary none of us can cross.

But Jesus speaks as the one who crosses that boundary.

The Son Who Crosses the Boundary

Where David could only say, “I will go to him,” Jesus comes down to us.

“No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.” (John 3:13)

He enters into death itself, not for his own sin, but for the sins of others.

“Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief.” (Isaiah 53:10)

This is the deeper pattern that 2 Samuel 12 anticipates. A son connected to David suffers under the hand of God. But unlike David’s child, this Son’s death is not only judgment. It is also atonement.

And it is not the end.

Through resurrection, Christ does what David could not do. He does not merely go down to the dead. He rises and opens the way through death.

Reading the Passage Rightly

This means 2 Samuel 12 should not be used as a proof text for questions it does not directly answer. It does not settle the destiny of every infant who dies. It does something else.

It confronts us with the seriousness of sin.
It shows us the reality of divine judgment.
It models repentance that moves from pleading to worship.
And it directs our attention beyond David to the Son who fulfills his story.

If we try to extract only a comforting answer from the passage, we risk missing its deeper purpose.

Suffering in Light of Christ

The death of David’s child is meant to trouble us. It should.

But Scripture doesn’t leave suffering unexplained. It places it within a larger story that culminates in Christ.

If suffering is viewed in isolation, it will always feel arbitrary or unbearable. But when it is seen in light of the cross, it is no longer without meaning.

The Son of David was crushed, not for his own transgression, but for the redemption of others. That reality does not remove pain, but it transforms how it is understood.

David’s words acknowledge a boundary he could not cross.
Christ’s work declares that the boundary itself has been broken.

And that is where the passage ultimately leads us.

We fast because we are those who yearn for the Righteousness of the Bridegroom. The Son who is no longer dead, but has ascended to the Right Hand of power.

He is the one in whom heaven and earth meet and the way is opened for us to go to our Heavenly Father.

May His Kingdom come.

This is why theology matters.

Theology is not an academic exercise reserved for scholars. It is the lifeline that protects both the mind and the heart. Without it, we don’t drift into deeper worship. We drift into confusion, distortion, and eventually, idolatry.

Good theology guards us because it anchors us in what is true.

It begins with a right source of knowledge.

Epistemology answers the question of how we know what we know. For the Christian, truth is not discovered within. It is revealed from above. God’s Word is the foundation. Without that, we are left building on shifting sand, relying on instincts, experiences, and cultural narratives that cannot bear the weight of truth.

From there, theology proper gives us a biblical view of God Himself. It protects us from reshaping Him into something more comfortable or culturally acceptable. God is not defined by our preferences. He is who He has revealed Himself to be. When we get God wrong, everything else begins to unravel.

Christology then brings the focus to the person and work of Jesus Christ. It guards us from reducing Him to a moral teacher or inspirational figure. Jesus is fully God and fully man, the only mediator between God and man, and the only one who accomplishes redemption. If we misunderstand Christ, we lose the gospel itself.

Pneumatology, the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, ensures we understand how God works in us and through us. The Spirit is not a vague force or emotional experience. He is God, actively applying the work of Christ, convicting of sin, illuminating truth, and sanctifying believers. Without a right view of the Spirit, we either drift into emotionalism or attempt to live the Christian life in our own strength.

A right understanding of God then shapes how we understand ourselves.

Anthropology, the doctrine of man, keeps us from adopting the world’s view of self. We are not autonomous, self-defining individuals. We are created beings, made in the image of God, accountable to Him. Our identity is not something we invent. It is something we receive.

This clarity becomes even more necessary when we consider sin.

Hamartiology gives us a biblical understanding of what is actually wrong with us. Without it, sin gets softened into dysfunction, brokenness, or external pressure. But Scripture is clear. Sin is rebellion against God. It is the root problem beneath every other issue. If we misdiagnose sin, we will misdiagnose everything.

And if we misunderstand the problem, we will misunderstand the solution.

Soteriology, the doctrine of salvation, gives us hope grounded in truth. It reminds us that salvation is not something we achieve, but something God accomplishes. It centers us on the work of Christ and keeps us from drifting into self-reliance or despair.

Theology also shapes how we live together.

Ecclesiology, the doctrine of the church, provides clarity about community. It defines what the church is, how it functions, and why it matters. Without it, we reduce the church to preference or convenience instead of seeing it as God’s ordained means of growth, accountability, and worship.

This framework does more than inform us. It protects us.

It helps us recognize false teaching because we know what is true. It exposes self-deception because our thinking is measured against Scripture. It teaches us how to interpret our emotions instead of being ruled by them. It gives us the tools to evaluate cultural narratives instead of absorbing them uncritically. It teaches us how to interpret suffering, not as meaningless pain, but as something God uses for His purposes.

This is what good theology does. It trains us to see clearly.

And that clarity matters because drift is subtle. We rarely wake up one day and decide to abandon truth. We move away from it slowly when our thinking is not anchored.

This is why the church must hold fast to sound doctrine, not as an intellectual exercise, but as a matter of faithfulness. Theology is what enables us to discern truth from error, to resist deception, and to respond rightly in every area of life.

Only a biblical theology can show us when we are beginning to drift, and only then can we respond in a way that brings glory to God.

John Owen captured the heart of it well:

“God is the only proper object of our worship, and his glory is the end of all our actions.”

If that is true, then knowing Him rightly is not optional. It is essential.

And God has not left us guessing.

His Word is sufficient. It is relevant. It is authoritative. It is the final standard for truth, for life, and for worship.

Everything we need to know Him, love Him, and serve Him rightly has already been given.

The question is whether we will build on it.

…holding firmly the faithful word which is in accordance with the teaching, so that he will be able to both to exhort in sound doctrine and to refute those who contradict it.

Titus 1:9

You don’t fall in a moment. You erode.

And the erosion rarely starts where you think it does.

“Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned?” (Proverbs 6:27)

We live in a time where lust has been repackaged, softened, and made socially acceptable. It doesn’t always announce itself as outright pornography. It shows up in “harmless” scrolling, suggestive images, flirtatious content, and women who know exactly how to present themselves to capture your attention without crossing lines that would make you uncomfortable.

But Scripture doesn’t measure sin by how explicit it is. It measures it by the heart.

Don’t deceive yourself into thinking that because she’s not naked and it’s not labeled porn that you’re not actually sinning against the wife of your youth. The issue isn’t just what you’re looking at. It’s what you’re cultivating.

Every glance you entertain trains your desires. Every moment you linger strengthens the pull. Every compromise, no matter how small, is forming a man who will either stand or collapse when it matters most.

Self-mastery doesn’t disappear overnight. It dies a thousand tiny deaths before the legacy-destroying compromise eventually comes.

That’s how sin works. It doesn’t need your full surrender all at once. It just needs your permission in small, repeated moments.

This is why Scripture doesn’t tell you to manage lust. It tells you to flee it.

“Flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace.” (2 Timothy 2:22)

Fleeing is decisive. It’s immediate. It doesn’t negotiate. It doesn’t linger. It doesn’t try to prove strength by staying close to temptation.

Because real strength isn’t found in how long you can stand near sin. It’s found in how quickly you turn from it.

Men who fall didn’t lack warnings. They ignored them.

They convinced themselves that small compromises didn’t matter. That they were still in control. That they could draw lines and not cross them.

But sin doesn’t respect your lines.

What you tolerate today will demand more tomorrow. What feels small now will not stay small. The dragon doesn’t stay a hatchling. It grows.

And if you don’t kill it early, it will come for everything.

Your clarity. Your discipline. Your marriage. Your witness.

So guard your heart. Guard your gaze.

Not casually. Not occasionally. Intentionally.

This is not about behavior modification. It’s about war.

You are either putting sin to death, or it is putting you to death.

Repent where you’ve grown casual. Don’t justify it. Don’t minimize it. Call it what it is and turn from it.

And don’t stop at fleeing. Pursue righteousness.

Fill your mind with what is true. Train your eyes to look away. Build patterns that strengthen your obedience instead of feeding your weakness. Surround yourself with men who will hold you accountable and refuse to let you drift.

You are not called to manage lust. You are called to master it by the power of the Spirit.

It may not be labeled OF. It may not look like the world’s definition of “serious sin.” But if you let it stay, it will prove to be your undoing all the same.

Cut the head off the dragon.

Not later. Now.

Because the man you are becoming is being shaped in the moments you think don’t matter.

And you are called to a higher standard.