Tag: Christian Value

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When Hope and Depression Share the Same Heart

depression and faithWhen hope and depression share the same heart, Christ becomes essential. While I was in Kyrgyzstan, I had a conversation that stayed with me. A woman shared that her mother — a trained psychologist — is battling depression. What makes her situation more complicated is not just the illness itself but also the theology surrounding it. Some in their Christian community believe that a Christian should not experience depression. The reasoning seems straightforward:

Christ is our hope. If hope exists, depression should not be present. It sounds faithful, but it is not entirely biblical.

“I find myself frequently depressed—perhaps more so than any other person here. And I find no better cure for that depression than to trust in the Lord with all my heart and seek to realize afresh the power of the peace-speaking blood of Jesus.” – Charles Spurgeon

Speaking Thoughtfully About Depression

Before referencing Scripture, we need to define terms precisely.

There is a difference between everyday sadness and clinical depression. Clinical depression involves a persistent low mood, loss of interest, changes in sleep or appetite, difficulty concentrating, and physical exhaustion that can last for weeks or longer. It is widely recognized in medicine and psychology as a real health condition that impacts both emotional and physical well-being.

This isn’t about reducing the soul to chemistry; it’s about recognizing that we are embodied beings. Spiritual faith doesn’t dismiss physical processes. The Bible was written in a pre-modern medical context, yet it often speaks openly about deep emotional pain.

Scripture Does Not Hide Despair

The book of Lamentations clearly shows that sorrow has a place in faith. The author describes suffering, bitterness, and a soul that is “downcast” (Lamentations 3:20). These words remain in Scripture — they are not removed.

Yet in the same chapter, we read:

Lamentations 3:21, “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope…”

Notice what happens. The despair is real. It is voiced. It is not denied. Hope emerges not by pretending sorrow doesn’t exist, but by remembering who God is in the midst of it.

Hope and lament coexist.

Elijah and the Collapse After Victory

In 1 Kings 19, Elijah has a major spiritual victory when fire comes down from heaven. But soon after, he flees into the wilderness and prays for death.

“I have had enough, Lord… Take my life.”

God does not accuse him of weak faith. He gives him sleep, provides food, and restores his strength before speaking to him softly.

Scripture demonstrates that there is no conflict between spiritual devotion and emotional exhaustion. A prophet can love God deeply and still go through despair.

The Psalms and Honest Faith

Almost one-third of the Psalms are laments.

“How long, O Lord?”
“My tears have been my food day and night.”
“Darkness is my closest friend.” (Psalm 88)

Psalm 88 ends without resolution. There is no triumphant closing line. Yet, it remains Scripture.

The Bible does not sanitize suffering. It elevates it.

Even Jesus said in Gethsemane, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). Sorrow is not evidence of spiritual failure.

The Danger of Simplistic Theology

Our darkness does not threaten Christ. He encounters us in it — and sometimes the most faithful thing a believer can do is cling to Him while the night still lingers.

When we tell a suffering believer that their depression reflects a lack of faith, we risk increasing their shame, which is already substantial. We also risk alienating them from the community that is intended to share their burdens. Furthermore, we risk misrepresenting Scripture.

Christian hope isn’t emotional immunity; it’s an anchor (Hebrews 6:19). Anchors aren’t needed in calm seas but are crucial during storms.

Depression, in various forms, affects many of us throughout our lives—through grief, prolonged stress, illness, or loss. That reality does not threaten Christianity. In fact, the Bible’s honesty about despair is one of its strongest points. It presents us with faithful people who struggle with darkness but still trust God.

Faith doesn’t lessen our humanity; it shows us how to steer through it.

A Message to the daughter — and to the Church

To the daughter who loves her mother: your mother’s struggles are not signs of spiritual failure. They show that she is human. The fact that she understands the mind does not protect her from suffering. Knowledge does not make her immune.

To the church: the safest place in the world for someone battling depression should be the body of Christ, not a courtroom or a theological debate. It should serve as a refuge.

Hope doesn’t depend on the absence of sorrow; it relies on God’s presence within it. The author of Lamentations acknowledged the darkness and remembered the Lord through it. Maybe that is the more faithful approach.

Hope isn’t the denial of sorrow; it’s a choice to trust that God stays present even when the soul feels downcast.

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Silence is the Medium of Loss, Rage, Disappointment, and Resignation.

SilenceSilence is the medium of loss, rage, disappointment, and resignation. It begins when the heart loses language, and even the most eloquent become wordless in suffering.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. said, “I’ve spent my life hearing noise, but nothing hits harder than the silence that tells the story words cannot carry.”

John 16:33, “I have said these things to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

The Paradox

One of the paradoxes God gives us is love. Love lifts us to emotional heights that act like drugs in our brains. It has been described as flying or falling. The paradox is that when love is lost, the same chemistry that caused euphoria now results in unbearable pain.

The greater the love, the greater the pain.

God doesn’t just ask us to love; He commands it. And obedience to that command makes us vulnerable to pain. To step into another’s life is not to fix their pain, but to share it. It is to let them know they are seen, noticed, and not alone.

Sometimes it feels like sitting across from a friend who has suffered a devastating loss, with nothing in your hands and nothing on your tongue. No scripture quoted, no wisdom offered, no attempt to rescue them from their grief. Just presence, shared air, and the quiet acknowledgment that something sacred and terrible has happened, and you are willing to stay there with them.

2 Timothy 2:3, “Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus.”

Creative Silence vs. Raging Silence

I am a man who loves solitude, venturing into the woods where God’s creatures abound, and the only sounds are distant birds singing and a gentle wind rustling through the leaves. It is during these quiet moments that clarity surrounds me. This is the creative silence of God’s calling, not the raging silence of loss. Creative silence allows my mind to lower its defenses and think freely about the issues I carry. The raging silence of loss is like a fortified castle, with its drawbridge up, preventing anyone or anything from entering. It is frozen, mid-sentence, staring into a black void of thought.

I see it in eyes that no longer meet mine, in conversations that end after a single sentence, and in people who once spoke freely but now only answer when spoken to.

2 Corinthians 1:4, “He encourages us in every trouble, so that we may be able to encourage those who are in any trouble, through the very encouragement with which we ourselves are encouraged by God.”

The Challenge

Loving one another is one of the most critical and challenging commands God has given us. Loving God and loving others both cost us. One requires surrender. The other requires vulnerability. Neither is easy, but both are commanded. Love is sacred because it wounds and heals at the same time.

Galatians 6:2, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

Entering someone else’s silence requires courage. You must face the unknown, stepping into a realm that’s difficult to understand, with pain whose source is unfamiliar and not easily grasped. The aim isn’t to understand or seek answers but to connect. It’s about offering the warmth of human kindness when the world feels cold. It’s about sitting quietly with silence. And it is about the strength within you given by Christ.

Ephesians 3:19-21, “and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”

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The Parable of the Talents: Six Great Truths

Story of the 10 TalentsThe parable of the Talents in Matthew 25:14-30 gives us six great truths. 

The First Great Truth: Different Talents, Same Divine Intent

In Matthew 25:14-30, Jesus shares a story that speaks directly to our modern desire for fairness and our obsession with comparing ourselves to others. In the Parable of the Talents, the master distributes wealth—vast wealth—but not equally. One servant gets five talents, another two, and another just one. Scripture explains why: “He gave to each according to his ability.” There’s no apology, no explanation, no defense of fairness. The master doesn’t victimize the man with one talent or guilt the man with five because of his wealth. He entrusts each person with what suits him, then observes what each will choose to do.

This is the first great truth of the parable: God does not distribute opportunities equally, but He distributes them purposefully. Every servant received exactly what was aligned with his design. And that truth extends into your life as well. You are not an afterthought of heaven, or an accidental oversight in God’s distribution of gifts. You were shaped with intention, precision, and purpose. Your strengths and weaknesses, your joys and sorrows, your passions and wounds are part of the divine design God has crafted for your calling.

The Second Great Truth: Resources Do Not Define Your Destiny

The second truth of the parable is perhaps the most freeing: your starting point doesn’t matter spiritually, eternally, or cosmically. What matters is how you choose to use what God has entrusted to you now. The servants with five talents and two talents doubled their resources, and although their results weren’t identical, their reward was. Both heard the exact words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” They were not praised for equal outcomes but for equal faithfulness.

Success is not about having much, but about doing a lot. They worked, invested, created, and built. The size of the gift was never the measure—faithful stewardship was. God does not compare your life to anyone else’s; He looks at whether you are obedient with the gifts, resources, and opportunities He placed in your hands.

The Third Great Truth: When Fear Buries Purpose

The servant with one talent did not fail because he had less. He failed because he refused to act. Fear drove him to bury what he had—to protect it, hide it, and ultimately waste it. He justified his fear, but fear never yields results. Fear keeps what God intended to increase. In the end, the master did not accept fear as a valid excuse for unfaithfulness.

This truth runs deep in our world today. We live in a culture that tells us our identity is shaped by what we lack—our disadvantages, hardships, or inequities. But Scripture teaches the opposite: you are not defined by your lack; your Creator defines you. God does not judge you based on what others have received. He judges you based on what you do with what you have received.

The Fourth Great Truth: You are Perfectly and Uniquely Designed for Your Assignment

Every part of your story—your personality, skills, experiences, resources, relationships, education, upbringing, trauma, victories, and even your scars—is part of the sacred toolkit God created specifically for your calling. Nothing is accidental, or wasted, or missing that God intended for you to have. You are perfectly designed—not generically, but uniquely—for the purpose He has set before you.

Adam Allred of Doughboy Nation states this clearly: “God doesn’t measure you against anyone else. He measures what you did with what He put in your hand.” That captures the core message of the Parable of the Talents. God never questions, “Why didn’t you have more?” Instead, He asks, “What did you do with what I gave you?” Your life represents your set of talents: your mission, your responsibility, your opportunity.

The Fifth Great Truth: Faithfulness, Not Fairness, Is Heaven’s Standard

At the end of the parable, the master rewards the faithful servants with the same invitation into his joy. They did not achieve equal results, but they demonstrated equal faithfulness, and that is the currency of God’s kingdom. Then, in a moment that challenges our modern ideas of fairness, the master takes the unused talent from the unfaithful servant and gives it to the one who already had ten. If the story were about fairness, that moment would seem unjust. But the parable is not about fairness—it’s about stewardship. God amplifies what is used and diminishes what is wasted.

The Final Great Truth: Your Starting Line is not Your Finish Line

This parable conveys a profound truth: your life is the talent God has entrusted to you. You did not choose your starting point; your family, circumstances, advantages, or limitations, but you are fully responsible for how you respond. The world may emphasize inequality, but God emphasizes intentional creation.  Privilege is the domain of the world, but God focuses on purpose. The world may compare results, but God measures faithfulness.

One day, each of us will stand before God, and His question will not be, “How much did you have?” but “How faithful were you with what I placed in your hands?” The powerful truth—the truth that sets us free—is that the same “Well done” is available to everyone, regardless of whether they started with five talents, two, or one. You were created with a divine purpose. You were placed in this specific moment in history for a reason. And you already have everything you need to fulfill the purpose God designed for you.

Your starting line is not your finish line, your limitations are not your identity, and your past is not your verdict. You were made for multiplication, designed for impact, and given a purpose. So take what God has placed in your hands and use it with courage. Use it with faith. Keep using it until the day you hear the words that echo beyond time itself: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Jeremiah 32:19, “Great are your purposes and mighty are your deeds. Your eyes are open to the ways of all mankind; you reward each person according to their conduct and as their deeds deserve.”

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A God Created Out of Hunger

The God who is, not the God we makeIs your God created out of hunger? There is a quiet danger in faith that doesn’t present itself as rebellion. It feels reasonable. Even reverent. It begins when we try to understand God using only the raw materials of our own experience.

Exodus 20:3 “You shall have no other gods before me.”

The Origin of Hunger

We are finite creatures, bound by time, limitation, and need. Hunger is one of our earliest teachers. We learn the world first through absence—what we lack, what we want, what we fear losing. And because hunger is our native language, we are tempted to use it as our primary reference point for God.

But when we do that, something subtle happens.

We start shaping God in our own image — not intentionally, not rebelliously, but instinctively, carving Him from the wood of our own longing. We imagine a God who thinks as we do, reacts as we would, and values what we value. That god becomes understandable, predictable, and — most dangerously — familiar.

Habakkuk 2:18 19, “What profit is an idol when its maker has shaped it, a metal image, a teacher of lies? For its maker trusts in his own creation when he makes speechless idols! Woe to him who says to a wooden thing, awake; to a silent stone, Arise! Can this teach? Behold, it is overlaid with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all in it.”

Made in His Image

Scripture says we are made in God’s image. Our temptation is to distort that truth and shape God in our own image.

Genesis 1:27, “So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”

The issue isn’t that such a god is entirely false. The issue is that he is small. A God born from our desires will always be limited by them. He can’t correct us because he is created from our assumptions. A god created by us can’t confront us because he shares our blind spots. He can’t surprise us because he never exceeds us.

This is why idolatry in Scripture is often described in terms of simple materials—wood, stone, metal —not because the materials themselves matter, but because they are easy to handle. A god we can shape is a god we can coexist with. A god we can live with rarely changes us.

The True God

Revelation 1:8 “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”

The true God resists this simplification. God refuses to fit neatly into our boxes. He answers Moses with “I AM,” not with an explanation. God responds to Job not with reasons but with vastness. He enters the world in Christ in a way no one expects and still cannot be contained.

And yet, even knowing this, I feel the pull.

I want a God I can predict. A God who agrees with my conclusions. A God who confirms my instincts and sanctifies my preferences. I am tempted—daily—to trade awe for familiarity, mystery for manageability.

But a God small enough to be comfortable is too small to be worshiped.

Psalm 139:14, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

Perhaps the most authentic stance is not certainty, but reverence. Not mastery, but surrender. To allow God to stay God—even when that means acknowledging how little I truly understand.

If I ever find that God fits perfectly within my grasp, it might be time to question whether I have been carving again.

Instead of becoming who we want Him to become, Jesus is who we need Him to be — a gracious God who calls us to repent of our sins and trust in His sacrifice on our behalf.

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The Quiet Violence of Innocence

Violent InnocenceWhile reading recently, I encountered a term that initially sounded academic, almost theoretical: violent innocence. At first, I thought it described others—two people or organizations engaged in passive conflict, each claiming innocence while quietly undermining one another. It seemed like a more refined version of passive-aggressive behavior. But as I reflected on it further, it became more unsettling. Not because it described others so accurately, but because it revealed something inside me.

What Is Violent Innocence?

The definition I found was simple but piercing:

Violent innocence refers to a process where an individual or institution inflicts harm while simultaneously claiming innocence, denying responsibility, and defending a self-image of being “good” or “undefiled.”

The violence is subtle. The innocence seems real. And the harm exists in the space between who we believe we are and what our actions — or inactions — actually cause.

James 4:17, “If anyone knows the good, they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin.”

That’s the harsh truth: we can sin just by doing nothing. We can cause harm without yelling or fists. We can hurt others simply by refusing to love.

I Never Thought of Myself as Violent

As a Christian, I have always reserved the term violence for physical or emotional cruelty. Violence comes from rage, evil, or malice—qualities I do not associate with my life. Yet Jesus elevated the standard far beyond physical acts.

Titus 3:14, “Our people must learn to devote themselves to doing what is good, to provide for urgent needs and not live unproductive lives.”

In God’s perspective, violence isn’t just physical harm like broken bones or bruised feelings. It can also be shown through neglect, indifference, silence, refusal to act, withholding mercy, or withholding truth. Harm can come from absence just as easily as from actions.

We depend on artificial rules and protocols to stop us from acting, which in turn protects us from responsibility. We ignore a need, choose comfort over compassion, or justify our inaction with polished excuses — we take part in a form of harm we might never recognize in ourselves.

And we do it while maintaining the belief that we are good.

The Violence of Our Excuses

Almost every day, we get the chance to help someone — and almost every day, we find a reason not to. I don’t have time, or I’d rather not get involved, or even better, they created their situation; now they have to face the consequences.

These statements seem harmless, even rational. But beneath them is a calculation: my convenience outweighs their need.

Proverbs 3:27 “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.”

Withholding good is not neutral. It shapes the world around us. It shapes our own hearts.

Violent innocence flourishes in this space — where we safeguard our perception of goodness by dismissing the opportunities we pass up.

The Most Damaging Violence: Withholding the Gospel

Here is where the concept becomes painfully personal. As believers, we carry the message of eternal hope — the only hope that rescues the soul. Yet, there are countless moments when we could speak but choose not to. We soften the edges. We stay polite. We remain safe.

If the gospel is life, then silence is not harmless. It is a failure of love.

1 Corinthians 9:16, “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!”

Matthew 28:19, “Go and make disciples of all nations.”

When we withhold the truth that could save someone’s eternal life, our innocence turns into a form of violence. Not physical violence — but spiritual neglect. Eternal neglect.

This isn’t about guilt; it’s about responsibility. It’s about love brave enough to risk discomfort for another’s soul.

Letting Go of the Protected Lie

Violent innocence lets us comfortably believe we’re harmless. But Jesus didn’t call us to be harmless. He called us to love—bold, sacrificial, inconvenient love.

Galatians 6:2, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

To bear a burden, we must first be willing to feel its weight.

We need to allow God to uncover the harm concealed within our innocence—not to condemn us, but to set us free. Innocence isn’t the absence of wrongdoing; it’s the presence of active love.

My prayer is this:

Lord, break the illusion of my innocence and grant me the courage to love.

Let me never cause harm through silence, neglect, or convenience. Let my life demonstrate the mark of someone who took action — someone who loved — even when it was costly.

1 John 3:17, “If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?”

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Cain and Abel: Effort vs. Obedience

Cain’s Offering: Effort and Achievement

Cain offered God the fruits of his effort. He cleared the land of rocks and thorns, plowed the soil, planted, watered, fertilized, and protected his crops. His offering was the result of sweat, discipline, and hard work.

Abel’s Offering: Trust and Obedience

Abel, meanwhile, brought the firstborn of his flock. He couldn’t control how the sheep grew or multiplied. He simply cared for them, led them to pasture, and trusted God with the rest. His offering wasn’t about effort—it was about obedience.

Hosea 6:6, “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

The Contrast Between Effort and Obedience

That’s the difference: Cain gave what he produced. Abel gave what God provided.

We often adopt Cain’s mindset. We take pride in what we do “for God”—such as attending church, participating in small groups, going on mission trips, being generous, and involved in ministry. We count conversions, hours served, and dollars given. We create spiritual scorecards and secretly hope God is impressed.

But what He really desires is obedience.

“If you know that God loves you, you should never question a directive from Him. It will always be right and best. When He gives you a directive, you are not just to observe it, discuss it, or debate it. You are to obey it.” – Henry Blackaby

Cain’s Reaction and God’s Judgment

When God rejected Cain’s offering, Cain became bitter. He felt ignored, even though he had worked harder than his brother. He wanted acknowledgment, but instead he heard these words:

Genesis 4:11 – 12, “Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground… When you work the ground, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth.”

The skills Cain relied on became his source of frustration. The same thing happens to us. When we seek recognition through our efforts, our work can feel empty. Success might come, but our souls remain unsatisfied.

The Peace of Abel’s Path

Matthew 12:7, “And if you had known what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the guiltless.”

Abel’s path appears different. Obedience brings clarity and peace. Those who walk in it know their identity and purpose. They don’t judge worth by results but by faithfulness. They understand that it is God—not them—who produces fruit and transforms lives.

God Works in the Small Moments

1 John 2:3-4, “And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says “I know him” but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him.”

I believe God encounters us in the moments, not the milestones. He isn’t waiting to see if we cross the finish line first or win the trophy. He’s focused on the next step we take. Do we trust Him enough to obey, even when it feels small or unseen?

What looks like a “participation trophy” to us can mean everything to Him. It demonstrates consistency, trust, and obedience—faith lived out in everyday life.

Living It Out Today

So don’t worry about outworking everyone else. Focus on out-trusting them. Master the small acts of obedience God places before you. Leave the results in His hands.

Isaiah 1:19, “If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land.”

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He Saved You So You Can Experience All These Promises

Saved for small things of great valueHe saved you so you could do all these things. Mathew said it to Mary in an episode of The Chosen. He reminded her that, regardless of her iniquities, she mattered to God and others. It reminded me of a story from my own life. The idea that my voice could echo through eternity haunts me. I’m captivated by the thought that I might say something so meaningful that at least one person would pass it on. I don’t believe I possess that much wisdom; luckily for me, Christ does.

Deuteronomy 7:9, “Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; He is the faithful God, keeping His covenant of loving devotion for a thousand generations of those who love Him and keep His commandments.”

The First Things

It made me reflect on one of the pivotal moments in my life and gave me hope. In the early nineteen-eighties, I was a gym rat. The way I handled my anxiety was by pushing myself to my physical limit so that my brain would quiet down. The pain and exhaustion would overpower my anxiety, and for a while, I would feel normal. I wasn’t a Christian then, I was an insecure, driven, hot mess. My expectations was set too high, and I was failing myself.

As God would have it, He intervened. I developed myopia while running, I would get tunnel vision that caused me to stop until it went away, then I would start running again. I mentioned this to a cardiologist I played racquetball with. He suggested I see him. I did. That visit led me through a maze of tests over nine months, culminating in a trip to the emergency room. Charles, my cardiologist, got out of bed at two in the morning to check on me. While we were talking, my heart stopped. The next thing I remember is Charles in a white mask telling me it was going to be OK.

Isaiah 65:23, “They will not labor in vain, nor will they bear children doomed to misfortune; for they will be a people blessed by the Lord, they and their descendants with them.”

The Next Thing

“Wherever Jesus has been proclaimed, we see lives change for the good, nations change for the better, thieves become honest, alcoholics become sober, hateful individuals become channels of love, and unjust persons embrace justice.” – Josh McDowell.

Fast forward several years and a few pacemakers later, Charles retired from medicine. The note I wrote to him was about his echo. At that time, the idea of having an echo hadn’t taken hold. But if Charles had never gotten out of bed at two in the morning, I might not be alive. I am sure I am one of the many lives he has saved. Each one has a purpose and a mission to expand God’s kingdom. Some answer the call, others ignore it. But those who do are part of Charles’s echo. People he will never see, conversions he will never know, on this side of heaven.

Psalm 103:17-18, “But from everlasting to everlasting the loving devotion of the Lord extends to those who fear Him, and His righteousness to their children’s children—to those who keep His covenant and remember to obey His precepts.”

I chose to embrace Christianity. Surprisingly, not because of my near-death experience, which should have been enough, but because of my anxiety. I have been involved in multiple ministries, sharing the gospel with many different people. Every one of these is credited to Charles. It is his echo. Without him, they may never have happened. God saved Charles so he could do these things, and He saved me so I could do them too. He also saved you so you might do the things He has for you.

Your Thing

God has forgiven our sins. He is glorified whenever we do anything in His name. We are alive in this moment because He has a plan for us. The plan He has for us involves the plans He has for others. That is our echo. We each have that potential. Doing the little things right creates the big events of the future. Matthew was right; we exist to glorify Christ, and if He woke you up today, He is not done with you. Shout into the abyss and start an echo.

Galatians 6:9, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

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He Said ‘Come’—So He Did, and Everything Changed

The man in the middleBecause the man on the middle cross said I could come, that is what the thief might have said when standing before God. He didn’t mention Bible studies or mission trips. Acceptance wasn’t guaranteed by theology or learning; it was guaranteed because one man said he could come. That man was the representation of our living God. He was part of the Trinity, and He died so that we may live.

Romans 11:33-34, Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has become His counselor?

We complicate salvation. It becomes a mystical and complex mix of rules and actions. We shape it into something we should do or say, fitting what Christ did on the cross into a set of beliefs and standards that reflect our understanding of human behavior. Christians cannot escape cause and effect. Everything has a cost we must pay, even when we know it’s not nearly enough.

Greatest Generation

My dad taught me early on that anything worth having is worth working for. He believed that the value we assign to what we own is directly related to the sacrifice it takes to get it. He was part of the “Greatest Generation” that gave everything for our freedom during World War II. They knowingly and intentionally stormed the beaches of Normandy. Forty-four thousand twenty-seven soldiers died that day taking that beach. Sacrifice was a core part of who he was.

Isaiah 55:8-9, “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

We attach a human cost to every action and reaction. Humans are not capable of thinking outside of their experiences. Even our fantasies are grounded in experience.  Our imagination is a composite of various sights and sounds from our past. How can we be expected to understand true grace as demonstrated on the cross?

The Thief

Luke 23:41, “We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

The thief didn’t have time to consider theology. His sin overwhelmed him and led him to hang beside Jesus. Nailed to a cross, he was unable to do good deeds or show kindness. It was too late to read or debate God’s word. All the efforts we made to secure our place among the believers who have gone before us were beyond his reach. He stored no crowns or jewels up in heaven waiting for him. Yet, Christ saved him.

Ephesians 2:8-9: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.”

We struggle to understand that we are saved by grace so that no one can boast. We avoid this truth by claiming that our good works are a sign of God’s grace. Unlike the thief, we use our time and opportunities to show ourselves and others that we are saved.

Entrance Into Heaven

Luke 23:43, “Jesus answered him, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.’”

The thief was lucky that it was God and not us who admitted him into heaven. For God, it was enough that Christ invited the thief and the thief accepted the gift of that invitation. We would have wondered how he got there. He didn’t have the pedigree; no church membership, no experience of giving to the poor, no sacrifice of tithing, not even a single attendance to Bible study. How could he possibly qualify? Everything has a price, even if that price is beyond our ability to repay.

“God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, “I love you.” – Billy Graham.

Christ paid that price in full. Nothing we can do will ever take away that gift willingly given by Christ. Don’t focus on performance. Like the thief, be always thankful that the King of Kings invited you. Stay humble in His presence.

Micah 6:8, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

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“The Danger of a Single Story—and How to Embrace Many Narratives”

To choose to write is to reject silence.There is a risk in forming a narrative from a single story. But we do it all the time.

Someone is rude to us, and we form an image of that person. We see how someone dresses, and we create an impression of their life. Most of us read a news article and develop an opinion. We read a Bible verse and build a belief.

Matthew 7:1-2, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Context is everything. The backstory shapes the interaction. Most outbursts don’t come from the current event but are the result of past experiences. Life often boils over.

Until the lion tells the story, the hunter will always be glorified. — African Proverb (popularized by Chinua Achebe).

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I recently watched a TED Talk by Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie called “The Danger of a Single Story.” She explained how easy it is to form assumptions based on limited exposure, such as one article, one image, or one encounter. “The problem with stereotypes,” she said, “is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.”

1 Samuel 16:7, “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

That resonated with me deeply. I’ve seen it play out in conversations about culture, poverty, politics, and faith. I’ve also caught myself doing it — jumping to conclusions before hearing the whole story.

Even in Scripture, we fall into this trap. We build entire theologies around single verses, ignoring the broader narrative. We isolate Jesus’ words without understanding the people He was addressing or the cultural backdrop of His day. When we do that, we risk distorting both the message and the heart behind it.

Because of my volunteer work I have had the privilege of listening to the backstories of incredible people in extremely adverse circumstances. People who I am convinced will change the world around them in spite of the political, economic and cultural issues holding them back. We are all created in the image of God, unique and perfect for the purpose for which God planned for us before all of creation. Most of us become trapped in a broken world and never achieve that purpose. Our voice is silenced and we are lost.

Stepping Back

John 8:7, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

But if we step back and listen longer — if we seek the whole story — something shifts.

Instead of judgment, we offer grace.

Instead of fear, we extend curiosity.

Instead of division, we build understanding.

The challenge is this: Will we choose the harder path of listening, learning, and unlearning the single stories we’ve absorbed? Will we allow room for complexity, contradiction, and growth in others and ourselves?

The next time someone crosses your path or a headline catches your eye, pause. Ask: Is this the whole story? Or just the easiest one to believe?

Maybe That’s Why I Write.

Colossians 3:12, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people… clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

There are days like this when I feel a strong desire to make a difference. I know I’m not a well-known influencer. I don’t have a huge platform or a viral message.

But I have simple words; words that might reach one person. Words that could start an echo, even if I never hear it.

So, I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep listening beyond just a single story. I’ll continue choosing grace, complexity, and truth — because sometimes, the smallest voice can shatter the loudest assumptions. Today, you and I are part of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s echo. We are the reverberation of her voice that she will never hear. I challenge you to start your echo in truth and grace.

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Silence is Rarely Silent

Sound of SilenceThe Sound of Silence

Silence is rarely silent. Often, it is louder than the surrounding voices. When we sit back and allow contrary and even destructive voices to drown out the voices of compassion, our silence becomes a statement. It reflects who we are and who we choose to be: apathetic.

Zechariah 7:9: “Show kindness and compassion to one another.”

When we turn away from someone in need and ignore those struggling to survive or be recognized, our inaction resonates louder than words. It suggests that their lives are less significant than ours. We proclaim that our chaotic, confusing, and busy existence is more valuable than compassion or grace, as if their stories matter less than ours.

“Sometimes loneliness makes the loudest noise.” ― Aaron Ben-Ze’ev

The Sound of Apathy

Silence is rarely silent. Not offering a kind word or an act of compassion often does more harm than harsh words. It leaves the other person feeling invisible and without value. Some argue that anger is better than apathy because at least anger still involves feeling. Apathy, however, is a void; it’s the absence of love, empathy, and connection.

Matthew 5:7, “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”

The powerful aspect of compassion is that it transforms us. When we choose to see others and enter their lives, we begin to perceive a richer, more understanding world. We come alive by helping others feel alive. That’s not a burden—it’s a gift. Silence eats away at the core of who God made us. It degrades the essence of who we are, created in His image.

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” – Leo Buscaglia.

The Sound of God’s Whisper

Silence drowns out the whisper of God’s love calling us to action. God doesn’t force us to care; He doesn’t demand action. He gently whispers through love, inviting us to respond not out of obligation but out of gratitude. Loving others isn’t a requirement for earning God’s love—it’s a result of receiving it.

Proverbs 11:17. “Those who are kind benefit themselves, but the cruel bring ruin on themselves.”

Yes, life is demanding. We have schedules to keep, responsibilities to manage, and our wounds to heal. But the challenge isn’t whether we’ll face obstacles; it’s whether we’ll rise above them. Whether we’ll choose the path of love, even when it’s inconvenient. Life will offer you the rationalization needed to move on in silence. But is that God’s nature? God never chose silence when we were in need. He gave His son that we may live. And if we want to reflect His heart, neither can we.

Galatians 6:2, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

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