Keep the Fire From Shrinking

As the Day Begins

“Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; and walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us.” — Ephesians 5:1–2

There is something beautiful about the early days of faith. Prayer feels fresh. Scripture seems alive on every page. Worship carries a sweetness that is difficult to describe. A person who has newly come to Christ often speaks about Him freely because the experience of grace is still close to the surface. Yet A. W. Tozer raises an uncomfortable question in today’s reading: why do we so easily assume that this spiritual fire must eventually cool into routine?

Paul’s words in Ephesians point us toward another possibility. He does not tell believers merely to remember how they once felt. He tells us to become “followers,” or imitators, of God and to “walk in love.” The Greek verb peripateō carries the idea of conducting one’s life, moving through daily existence in a particular way. In other words, spiritual vitality is not meant to be preserved as an old experience; it is meant to become a present pattern. The Christian life stays fresh when our attention remains fixed not on yesterday’s encounter with God, but on God Himself today.

Tozer makes an insightful observation when he writes that only “engrossment with God” can maintain spiritual enthusiasm because God alone possesses “everlasting novelty.” His point is not that prayer, worship, Bible reading, and Christian service become unnecessary. Rather, these practices become lifeless when they are separated from the Person toward whom they are supposed to lead us. We can become tired of religious routine, but we do not exhaust the riches of God.

Think about the difference between looking repeatedly at an old photograph of someone you love and actually sitting across the table from that person. The photograph is meaningful, but relationship requires presence. In the same way, yesterday’s spiritual memory can encourage us, but it cannot substitute for today’s fellowship with the Lord.

This morning, perhaps the most important question is not, “Do I still feel as excited as I once did?” A better question is, “Am I still turning toward God?” Feelings rise and fall. Circumstances change. Seasons of life become crowded, painful, quiet, or demanding. But the Lord remains inexhaustible.

Paul connects imitation of God with love because Christ Himself becomes our pattern: “walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us.” The Christian who keeps growing is not necessarily the person experiencing constant emotional intensity. It is the person increasingly shaped by Christ’s love. Spiritual maturity may look quieter than conversion enthusiasm, but it should never become spiritually smaller.

The danger is not that our emotions change. The danger is that our attention changes.

If our focus slowly shifts from God to habit, from Christ to church activity, from communion to obligation, then “Christian shrinkage” begins almost unnoticed. We still do many of the same things, but the center has moved. Yet the remedy is wonderfully simple: return our attention to God Himself. Speak with Him honestly. Read Scripture to meet Him rather than merely complete a task. Pause long enough to recognize His presence. Look for one opportunity today to imitate His love.

The Lord has not become less interesting. Grace has not become less amazing. Christ has not become less worthy. The Holy Spirit has not become less active. Often the freshness we think we have lost is waiting for us in renewed attention.

Heavenly Father, I thank You that You never grow stale, distant, or exhausted. You are endlessly worthy of worship and endlessly generous toward Your children. Forgive me when I have allowed familiarity to replace wonder or routine to replace communion. Draw my attention back to You today. Teach me to walk as Your beloved child, not merely completing religious duties but enjoying fellowship with You. Help me recognize Your goodness in ordinary moments and imitate Your character in the way I speak, work, think, forgive, and love. Keep my faith from shrinking into habit when You have invited me into living fellowship with Yourself.

Jesus the Son, thank You for loving me with a love that did not remain theoretical. You walked among us, served us, suffered for us, and gave Yourself for us. Teach me today to walk in that same love. When I am impatient, remind me of Your patience. When I am tempted to protect myself, remind me of Your sacrifice. When faith feels routine, turn my eyes again toward the cross and resurrection. Keep me from living on yesterday’s experience of You. Let me know You afresh today through obedience, prayer, Scripture, and the opportunities You place before me.

Holy Spirit, awaken my heart to the presence of God throughout this day. Guard me from spiritual dullness and from confusing activity with intimacy. Make familiar Scriptures fresh by helping me see Christ within them. Interrupt me when I begin moving through the day without awareness of God. Produce Your fruit within me, especially love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Give me an attentive spirit so that even ordinary moments become places of fellowship with the Triune God.

Thought for the Day: Do not spend today trying to recreate an old spiritual feeling. Turn your attention toward the living God, walk in Christ’s love, and allow fresh fellowship to keep your faith growing instead of shrinking.

For further study, Ephesians 5:1–2 provides a concise biblical picture of Christian maturity: believers imitate God as beloved children and demonstrate that family resemblance by walking in the self-giving love revealed in Christ. This means genuine spiritual growth is measured less by emotional intensity than by increasing Christlikeness in everyday life.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

Created to Reign With Christ

Heaven: The Reward of Sharing the King’s Rule

When most Christians think about the rewards of Heaven, we naturally think about rest, reunion, worship, and being forever in the presence of God. All of those are wonderful biblical hopes. But Scripture describes another reward that we may not think about nearly as often: God intends for His redeemed children to reign with Christ. Heaven is not merely about escaping everything that went wrong here. It is about God restoring what He intended humanity to be from the beginning.

That purpose takes us all the way back to creation. God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule…” (Genesis 1:26). Adam and Eve were not simply placed in Eden to admire it. They were given responsibility within it. Humanity was created in the image of God and commissioned to exercise stewardship under God’s authority. As Mark Hitchcock explains, Adam and Eve were created to function as rulers under the Triune God over His newly created world.

Sin shattered that arrangement. Humanity rebelled against the One whose authority we were supposed to represent. Scripture subsequently describes Satan as “the ruler of this world” (John 12:31) and “the god of this age” (2 Corinthians 4:4). Yet Satan’s apparent victory never overturned God’s purpose. Genesis 3:15 immediately points toward the coming Redeemer who would crush the serpent’s head. From that moment forward, Scripture begins telling the story of God reclaiming what sin had corrupted.

Jesus is the center of that recovery. Where the first Adam failed, Christ—the last Adam—obeyed. Where humanity surrendered its stewardship through rebellion, Jesus secured redemption through obedience, death, and resurrection. Psalm 2 pictures the Father giving the nations to His Son, while Revelation 11:15 announces the ultimate result: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ, and He will reign forever and ever.”

Here is where the promise becomes wonderfully personal. Christ does not merely restore His kingdom while we stand nearby watching. He invites His redeemed people to share in His reign.

The many passages describing this future reward speak with one voice, so we do not need to dissect every reference separately. Second Timothy 2:12 tells believers that enduring with Christ leads to reigning with Him. Revelation 3:21 pictures Christ allowing the faithful to sit with Him on His throne. Revelation 5:10 describes the redeemed as a kingdom and priests who will reign upon the earth. Revelation 22:5 carries the promise beyond every temporary stage of God’s kingdom and declares that His servants “will reign forever and ever.” Taken together, these passages reveal God’s consistent intention: faithfulness in this life prepares His children for meaningful responsibility in the life to come.

This changes the way we understand heavenly rewards. God is not handing out spiritual trophies merely so some believers possess more than others. The picture is closer to a loving Father preparing His children to participate in the family work. Jesus hinted at this principle repeatedly. In His parables, faithful servants who responsibly handled what their master entrusted to them were given greater responsibilities when the master returned. Our opportunities today—serving someone unnoticed, teaching Scripture faithfully, resisting temptation, loving difficult people, giving generously, caring for the vulnerable—may seem ordinary, but Heaven sees them as preparation.

Hitchcock describes reigning with Christ as the culmination of God’s original purpose for humanity. That observation helps us connect Genesis with Revelation. The Bible begins with people created in God’s image and commissioned to rule under Him. It ends with redeemed people living in God’s presence and reigning with Him forever. What sin interrupted, grace restores. What Adam lost, Christ recovers.

That ought to affect tomorrow morning.

Your present faithfulness matters because your future with Christ involves more than residence; it involves service. Perhaps that is why Jesus taught that faithfulness in little things matters so greatly. God notices what no one else applauds. He sees obedience that costs you something. He sees the quiet ministry, the resisted temptation, the forgiving heart, the cup of cold water, and the prayer offered when nobody knows you prayed.

One day, those who belong to Christ will discover that no act of faithful service was wasted.

Heaven will certainly mean rest from sin, sorrow, sickness, and death. Yet biblical rest does not mean eternal inactivity. We will serve the King without exhaustion, worship without distraction, and participate in His kingdom without the corruption that presently infects human power. Authority will no longer be about dominance. Under Christ, ruling will finally become what God intended it to be—loving stewardship exercised beneath the perfect authority of the King.

The Greek verb frequently translated “reign” in Revelation is basileuō (βασιλεύω), meaning to reign or exercise royal authority. Revelation 22:5 does not portray redeemed humanity merely existing forever; it portrays God’s servants participating meaningfully in His eternal kingdom. That is remarkably close to the commission first given in Genesis.

So when life feels insignificant, remember where the story is going. The believer washing dishes, caring for an aging parent, preaching to a small congregation, comforting a grieving neighbor, resisting private temptation, or quietly serving someone who can never repay the kindness may be practicing for eternity.

God is preparing His children not merely to enter His kingdom, but to serve within it beside the King who redeemed them.

May the Lord strengthen you to live faithfully today with eternity in sight, knowing that every act of obedience offered to Christ has meaning beyond what you can presently see. May you serve joyfully, endure faithfully, and look forward expectantly to the day when the King says that the work entrusted to you has been well done.

Blessings,
Pastor Hogg

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

Today’s Spiritual Disciplines

May the Lord bless your spiritual walk today and remind you that the God who began His work within you remains faithful to carry it forward. Spiritual disciplines are not simply religious tasks to complete; they are places where we deliberately make room for Scripture, prayer, reflection, repentance, and the transforming presence of God. Today’s daily devotions invite us to look both toward eternity and deeply within the heart as we continue our Christian walk.

Created to Reign With Christ — Heaven
We begin by looking toward the believer’s eternal future and God’s original intention for humanity to reign under His authority. Christ restores what sin disrupted, and faithful service today becomes preparation for meaningful service with Him in His kingdom.

Keep the Fire From Shrinking — As the Day Begins
Ephesians 5:1–2 reminds us that spiritual vitality is maintained not by chasing yesterday’s emotions but by remaining occupied with God Himself. The morning reflection encourages us to walk in Christ’s love and keep our attention fixed on the inexhaustible character of God.

When Being Good Is Not Good Enough — In the Life of Christ
Matthew 5:20 takes us beyond outward religious behavior into the righteousness that comes from a transformed heart. Jesus does not call us to become better Pharisees; He calls us into new life through divine grace and the work of the Holy Spirit.

When God’s Warning Becomes History — The Bible in a Year
Jeremiah 40:3 shows us the seriousness and reliability of God’s Word. Judah’s experience reminds us that divine patience should lead to repentance and obedience rather than the mistaken assumption that God’s warnings can safely be ignored.

Grace Does Not Make Sin Safe — On Second Thought
Psalm 139 and Galatians 6 remind us that God knows our choices completely while still extending mercy and restoration. Grace never makes sin harmless; instead, grace frees us to confess honestly, accept correction, and sow toward the life of the Spirit.

The Father Who Comes Looking — DID YOU KNOW
Luke 15 shifts our attention from the failures of the two sons to the pursuing love of the father. Whether failure appears as rebellion or self-righteousness, God’s grace moves toward us and calls us home.

When Ordinary Things Become Holy — As the Day Ends
Second Corinthians 12:9 reminds us that Christ’s grace is sufficient even in weakness and routine. Ordinary responsibilities become sacred when they are consciously offered to Christ and carried out for His sake.

May these Scripture reflections strengthen your faith journey today and help spiritual disciplines become less about obligation and more about living attentively in God’s presence.

Pastor Hogg

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

Leave the Grudge at the Cross

As the Day Ends

“Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’” — Luke 23:34

There are burdens we carry because life placed them on us, and there are burdens we keep carrying because we refuse to put them down. Resentment is often one of the latter. Someone wounds us, misunderstands us, embarrasses us, or treats us unfairly, and long after the incident has passed, we continue rehearsing it. Yet from the cross Jesus gives us another way. While nails held Him there and His enemies remained beneath Him, He prayed, “Father, forgive them.”

A. W. Tozer observed that Jesus “held no grudge against anyone,” even those involved in His crucifixion. Jesus was not pretending evil was harmless. He understood their sin better than anyone. Yet He refused to allow their wrongdoing to produce bitterness within Him. Forgiveness does not call evil good; it refuses to let someone else’s evil become a permanent tenant in our heart.

That matters tonight because resentment grows quietly. Tozer warned that the resentful person can become increasingly suspicious, defensive, and consumed with protecting reputation and rights. We may think holding a grudge keeps another person accountable, while in reality it often keeps us emotionally tied to the injury. Jesus shows us how to rise above what Tozer called the “swampland of personalities” by placing the matter into the Father’s hands.

Triune Prayer

Heavenly Father, as this day ends, I bring You every hurt I have carried from it. You know what was said, what was misunderstood, and what still troubles me. Forgive me where resentment has taken root. I surrender my need to replay the offense, defend myself endlessly, or secretly wish that another person would hurt as I have hurt. Give me the freedom to trust Your justice and rest beneath Your care.

Jesus the Son, You forgave while suffering. You did not allow cruelty to make You cruel or hatred to make You hateful. Teach me to follow Your example. Where forgiveness feels difficult, remind me that I am not excusing sin; I am placing judgment into Your hands. Give me enough grace to stop feeding resentment tonight and enough humility to remember how much I myself have been forgiven.

Holy Spirit, search the hidden corners of my heart before I sleep. Show me any bitterness I have disguised as righteousness or any grudge I have defended as wisdom. Replace suspicion with discernment, anger with peace, and the need to control outcomes with trust. Guard my thoughts through the night and awaken me tomorrow with a cleaner heart, ready to love without carrying yesterday’s wounds into a new day.

Thought for the Evening

Before you sleep, name one resentment you are carrying and deliberately place it before God. You may not be able to change what happened, but by His grace you can refuse to let it shape who you become.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

The Comfort That Calls You Forward

DID YOU KNOW

There are times when comfort is all we think we want. We are tired, bruised by life, disappointed in ourselves, or simply worn down by circumstances we did not choose. In moments like those, the words of Isaiah 40:1–2 sound especially tender: “Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.” Israel had lived through judgment, exile, and loss, and now God was announcing that their season of punishment would not last forever. The message was not merely, “Endure a little longer.” It was, “Come home.”

What makes this passage even richer is that Isaiah’s promise of comfort does not end with emotional relief. The study for today connects Isaiah 40 with the coming Suffering Servant of Isaiah 52–53, showing that God’s answer to human exile would ultimately be more than relocation or political restoration. God would deal with the sin that caused separation in the first place. That means biblical comfort is never merely God patting us on the shoulder while leaving us unchanged. God comforts us by restoring us, forgiving us, and then calling us into a new way of living.

Did You Know that biblical comfort is not merely relief from pain, but restoration into the purposes of God?

Isaiah 40:1–2 is addressed to a people who had experienced the consequences of rebellion. They had lost stability, homeland, and confidence. Yet God does not speak as though His relationship with them has ceased. He still calls them “my people.” That phrase matters. Judgment had not erased covenant identity. Discipline had not cancelled divine affection. Even after failure, God was still speaking words of restoration.

That is one reason this passage speaks so powerfully into ordinary Christian experience. There are seasons when we feel spiritually displaced. We may not be living in literal exile, but guilt, grief, poor choices, and disappointment can leave us feeling as though we are far from where we were supposed to be. We may think, “I have made too much of a mess of things,” or “Surely God is finished with me.” Isaiah gives us a different picture. God’s discipline may be real, but so is His desire to restore.

The study compares this longing for comfort to the prodigal son in the pigsty. He had wandered, wasted, and finally come to himself. He was not looking for privilege anymore. He simply wanted to go home. Yet when the father saw him, the response exceeded what the son expected. The father did not merely permit his return. He restored him.

That is how grace works.

God’s comfort is not always the removal of every consequence, but it is the assurance that failure need not have the final word. When we return to Him, we do not find a locked door. We find the Father who calls us His own and begins the work of restoration.

Did You Know that the greatest comfort God gives is not escape from suffering, but forgiveness through the Suffering Servant?

Isaiah’s message of comfort eventually leads us toward the Servant described in Isaiah 52:13–53:12. There we encounter One who is wounded, rejected, and burdened with the sins of others. The study rightly connects Israel’s restoration with the greater work God would accomplish through Jesus Christ. God did not merely bring people back from exile. He addressed the deeper exile produced by sin.

Isaiah 53:5 says, “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him.” That verse changes the meaning of comfort. The deepest human problem is not merely sadness, loneliness, poverty, or uncertainty. Those things are real, but beneath them stands the greater problem of separation from God.

Jesus entered that problem completely.

The cross tells us that grace is free to us but was never cheap. Our forgiveness came through sacrifice. The Servant suffered so that those estranged from God could be brought near. The punishment that belonged to us was carried by Him.

That means Christian comfort is not sentimental optimism. It is rooted in an event.

Christ died.

Christ bore sin.

Christ rose.

Christ reconciles.

When grief comes, we still grieve. When consequences remain, we still walk through them. But underneath everything stands the settled truth that those who belong to Christ are no longer condemned. Romans 8:1 declares, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

Sometimes what we most need is not an explanation for everything that has happened. We need assurance that what happened has not separated us from God.

That assurance is found at the cross.

Did You Know that comfort from God is meant to strengthen discipleship rather than replace it?

Luke 14 contains some of Jesus’ strongest language about discipleship. He speaks about counting the cost, carrying the cross, and refusing to place anything above allegiance to Him. The study brings Isaiah’s comfort together with Jesus’ demanding call and makes an important point: those who have received much grace are called to live fully in it.

We sometimes want comfort without cost.

We want Jesus to calm our fears, soothe our grief, forgive our failures, and remove our burdens—and He does meet us in all those places. Yet He also says, “Whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27).

That sounds almost contradictory until we understand what grace actually does.

Grace does not merely make us comfortable with ourselves. Grace frees us from the power of sin so that we can follow Christ.

The comforted Christian is not supposed to remain sitting beside the road admiring the kindness of God. We are meant to get up and walk with Him.

There is a spiritual danger in turning comfort into the destination. We can become so focused on feeling better that we forget Jesus is forming us into people who live differently. He comforts us so that fear no longer controls us. He forgives us so that guilt no longer defines us. He strengthens us so that we can obey when obedience becomes costly.

Paul expresses this movement beautifully in 2 Corinthians 1:4, saying that God “comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble.”

Notice what happens.

Comfort becomes ministry.

What God gives us moves through us toward someone else.

A wound healed by grace may someday become the place from which you encourage another wounded person. A season of grief may deepen your ability to sit quietly beside someone who is grieving. A failure forgiven may make you gentler toward someone who is struggling.

God’s comfort is never intended to terminate in us. It equips us to become instruments of His comfort in the world.

Did You Know that sometimes the cost of comfort is leaving behind what once made you comfortable?

Jesus says in Luke 14:33, “Those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.” He is not teaching that every Christian must literally possess nothing. He is exposing the question of ownership. Anything we cannot place under Christ’s authority has begun to possess us.

That is where the cost of comfort becomes unexpected.

We may ask God to comfort us while simultaneously clinging to the very habits, attitudes, relationships, or priorities that keep us spiritually restless. We want peace without surrender. We want renewal without change. We want God to make us comfortable while leaving untouched the things He is asking us to release.

Job 9 reminds us of another side of this. Job wrestled with circumstances he could neither control nor explain. There are moments when comfort does not come through solving the mystery. It comes through acknowledging that God is greater than the mystery.

Christian discipleship often requires releasing our demand to understand everything before trusting God.

That may be one of the hardest forms of surrender.

Sometimes comfort comes when circumstances improve. Sometimes it comes when they do not. Yet in either case, God remains faithful.

John Barry and Rebecca Kruyswijk summarize the movement of this study by observing that those who receive the grace of the Suffering Servant become not merely comforted people but restored people, equipped as instruments of God’s work.

That is the invitation before us.

Receive the comfort.

Bring the failure home.

Stand beneath the grace of the cross.

But then ask what that grace is making possible.

Perhaps God is restoring your courage so that you can serve.

Perhaps He is healing your grief so that one day you can comfort someone else.

Perhaps He is loosening your grip on something because His next step requires open hands.

Whatever the circumstance, do not settle for comfort alone. Let God’s comfort become strength, and let that strength become discipleship.

The comfort of Isaiah ultimately points us toward Jesus, and Jesus does more than tell us that everything will be all right. He gives Himself to us, forgives our sins, restores our relationship with God, and then says, “Follow Me.”

Sometimes the greatest evidence that we have truly been comforted is that we are ready to get up and follow Him again.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

When God Moves In

On Second Thought

There is a difference between visiting somewhere and living there.

A guest may come into your home, sit at the table, share a meal, and leave before the evening is over. A resident is different. A resident has a key. A resident belongs there. A resident knows what is in the closets, what needs repaired, what has been neglected, and what ought to be put in order.

That is the picture behind today’s study.

Romans tells us that through faith in Jesus Christ we have been justified and brought into peace with God. “Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1). That peace is not merely an emotional calm. It is a restored relationship. The hostility caused by sin has been dealt with through Christ. We are no longer standing outside trying to make ourselves acceptable to God. Through Jesus, we have been welcomed home.

But the Christian life does not stop with being welcomed.

God comes to dwell with us.

The study reminds us that the very name Immanuel means “God with us.” In the Old Testament, God’s presence was especially associated with the tabernacle and later the temple in Jerusalem. The innermost place represented the holy presence of God among His covenant people. Yet through the life, death, resurrection, and gift of the Holy Spirit through Christ, something remarkable happens: the language of God’s dwelling place moves from a building to His people.

Paul says in 1 Corinthians 6:19, “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?”

That changes how we think about ourselves.

Your body is not simply the container carrying your mind through life. Your life is not merely your private property to manage according to personal preference. For the believer, there is sacred occupancy.

God has moved in.

Charles Stanley describes this reality by saying that when we accept Christ, God comes to live within us and our body becomes His temple and dwelling place. That language should not produce fear so much as reverence. Think of the dignity contained in it. The Creator does not merely shout instructions from a great distance. He comes near. He abides with His people.

Jesus promised precisely this. In John 14:23 He says, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

Notice that phrase: make our home with them.

Christianity is not simply agreeing with truths about God. It is life lived in communion with God.

That is one reason sin becomes such a serious matter for the Christian.

Sin is not merely breaking an external rule. It introduces what the study calls darkness into the “holy chamber” of the heart. We should be careful with that language, because sin does not drive God away every time we stumble, nor does His grace suddenly evaporate whenever we fail. Romans 5 emphasizes exactly the opposite: our standing with God rests upon what Christ has accomplished.

Yet grace never makes sin harmless.

If someone you deeply loved moved into your home, their presence would inevitably affect the way you lived. You would begin considering not merely, “What do I want?” but, “How will this affect the one who shares this space with me?”

That is an imperfect but useful picture of holiness.

The Holy Spirit’s presence changes the questions we ask.

Instead of asking, “Can I get away with this?” we begin asking, “Does this honor the One who dwells within me?”

Instead of, “Is this technically forbidden?” we begin asking, “Does this belong in the house?”

Instead of, “Will anyone know?” we remember that God is already there.

Holiness grows when we stop treating God as a visitor and begin living as though He truly resides within us.

Romans 5 gives this truth an important foundation because Paul does not begin with human effort. He begins with justification.

That order matters.

We do not clean ourselves up so God will move in.

God comes to us through Christ, and His presence begins transforming the house.

Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

He did not wait for us to become respectable.

He came for sinners.

The contrast Paul develops in Romans 5:12–21 between Adam and Christ takes this even deeper. Through Adam, sin and death entered human experience. Through Christ comes righteousness and life. Adam represents the old humanity marked by rebellion. Christ begins a new humanity marked by grace.

Paul writes that “where sin increased, grace increased all the more” (Romans 5:20).

That statement is sometimes misunderstood. Paul is not suggesting that more sin creates more grace in some advantageous sense. In Romans 6 he immediately rejects such reasoning: “Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means!”

Grace does not give sin permission.

Grace gives us power to stop calling sin home.

That is a very different thing.

There is something deeply pastoral in understanding holiness this way. Many Christians spend years thinking God tolerates them reluctantly. They imagine Him standing somewhere nearby with crossed arms, watching for the next failure. Romans gives us a different picture.

We have peace with God.

Christ has reconciled us.

The Holy Spirit dwells within us.

Grace surrounds us.

And from that place of security comes transformation.

Purity is not an attempt to convince God to love us. Purity is our response to discovering how completely He already has.

That reshapes confession too.

When we sin, we do not need to hide from God as Adam hid among the trees. We can return honestly. First John 1:9 tells us, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Confession is not informing God about something He somehow missed.

It is opening the door to a room we tried to keep locked.

Perhaps there is a room in your life like that.

Maybe it is resentment.

Maybe it is lust.

Maybe it is bitterness.

Maybe it is pride.

Maybe it is something small enough that you have learned to excuse it but persistent enough that you know it does not belong there.

The answer is not despair.

The answer is not pretending.

The answer is grace-filled surrender.

Say, “Lord, this room belongs to You too.”

There is a tenderness in that kind of holiness. God is not merely interested in eliminating bad behavior. He is restoring us to what human beings were intended to be—people fully alive in fellowship with Him.

The temple imagery matters because temples existed for worship.

That means your everyday life becomes worship territory.

The kitchen.

The office.

The bedroom.

The car.

The conversation nobody else hears.

The thought nobody else knows.

The choice made when nobody is watching.

All of it becomes sacred space because God with us becomes God within us.

And perhaps this is the great invitation of Romans: stop dividing life between “spiritual” moments and everything else.

You carry the presence of God into ordinary life.

On Second Thought

Here is the paradox: we often think becoming holy means concentrating harder on ourselves—watching every weakness, inspecting every thought, measuring every failure. Yet sometimes the more we stare at ourselves, the more discouraged we become. Scripture offers another direction. Holiness grows not merely by examining the darkness but by becoming increasingly aware of the One who has entered the room. A child walking beside a trusted father behaves differently not because the child is obsessively monitoring every footstep, but because the father’s presence changes the journey. Perhaps the path toward greater purity begins with thinking less about how badly we might fail and more about how wonderfully near God already is.

And there is another unexpected truth. We sometimes assume God will become closer once we finally get everything cleaned up. Romans reverses that order. God came near while we were sinners. Christ died while we were still sinners. The Spirit began His transforming work not after the house was perfectly arranged, but while renovation was still desperately needed. That means the mess you are struggling with today does not need to drive you away from Him. Bring Him into it. Open the room. Hand Him the key. The God who dwells within His people is not afraid of renovation. He moves in first—and then, in grace, He begins making the house look more and more like His home.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

Indwelling Holy Spirit, Romans 5, Christian Holiness, God With Us

When God Has Already Spoken

The Bible in a Year

There is a scene in Jeremiah 37 that feels remarkably familiar even though it happened more than twenty-five centuries ago. Jerusalem is under pressure from Babylon, King Zedekiah is frightened, and suddenly the prophet he had allowed to be imprisoned becomes very important. Zedekiah secretly brings Jeremiah out and asks him a simple question: “Is there any word from the LORD?” Jeremiah’s answer is equally simple: “There is.” Then comes the part the king did not want to hear—God’s word was not a promise that everything would turn out the way Zedekiah hoped. Jeremiah told him plainly that he would be delivered into the hands of the king of Babylon.

That exchange says something important about the way we sometimes approach God. We may ask, “Lord, do You have anything to say about this?” while quietly hoping His answer will confirm what we have already decided. Zedekiah wanted information from God, but his previous conduct showed little willingness to submit to God. There is a great difference between wanting a word from the Lord and wanting to obey the word the Lord gives.

John G. Butler describes Zedekiah as a man who was spiritually out of touch with God and lacked the wisdom necessary to rule well. Yet when the crisis became unavoidable, the king suddenly wanted divine guidance. That pattern has not disappeared. We can live for months making decisions from instinct, preference, pressure, or convenience, then suddenly seek God when the consequences begin closing in.

Jeremiah reminds us that God has not left us without direction.

There is still a word from the Lord.

That does not mean we receive new revelation every morning about every decision. It means God has already spoken through Scripture with remarkable clarity about the fundamental areas that shape a faithful life. Our problem is often not that God has been silent. Our problem is that His answer may require something from us.

Take our relationships. Scripture does not leave us guessing about how covenant love should behave. Marriage is described in terms of faithfulness, sacrifice, mutual care, holiness, forgiveness, and endurance. Ephesians 5 points husbands toward the self-giving love of Christ, while passages such as Colossians 3 call believers toward compassion, patience, and forgiveness. When relationships become difficult, we may search everywhere for techniques while overlooking the character God has already commanded.

God has spoken.

The same is true of morality. The original study emphasizes that Scripture gives definite moral boundaries. In an age when people sometimes imagine freedom as the absence of restraint, the Bible presents holiness as freedom from the destructive mastery of sin. Paul writes in Romans 12:2, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” God’s moral instruction is not designed to deprive His children of life. It is intended to teach us how life under His lordship was meant to be lived.

That means there are times when Scripture will confront us rather than comfort us.

Jeremiah certainly confronted Zedekiah.

The king probably would have preferred, “Do not worry. Babylon will withdraw. Jerusalem will be safe. Your throne is secure.” Jeremiah could not say that because a prophet’s responsibility was not to make the king feel better. It was to tell him what God had said.

A word from the Lord is valuable precisely because it does not change to suit the listener.

Scripture also speaks to our conduct toward others and our responsibility before God. The study moves into questions of misconduct and justice, reminding us that God cares about wrongdoing and accountability. The Bible consistently holds together justice and mercy. Romans 13 recognizes legitimate civil authority, Micah 6:8 calls God’s people to do justice and love mercy, and Jesus commands His followers to treat others with the same mercy they themselves have received.

For the Christian, this means we cannot divide life into compartments where God speaks in church but remains silent everywhere else. His Word addresses honesty in business, treatment of employees, faithfulness in relationships, speech about neighbors, treatment of enemies, responsibilities within family, and our response when we ourselves have done wrong.

Then there is money.

Perhaps few areas reveal our hearts as quickly.

Jesus said in Matthew 6:21, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Paul warned that “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6:10). Scripture does not condemn money itself. Abraham possessed wealth. Job possessed wealth. Some believers in the New Testament had sufficient resources to support ministry and care for others. The question is never merely, “How much do I possess?” The deeper question is, “What possesses me?”

The study rightly observes that ignoring biblical wisdom about money produces unnecessary misery. Scripture repeatedly teaches contentment, generosity, honest work, stewardship, care for those in need, and caution against making wealth our security. God’s Word does not promise that obedience will make everyone financially prosperous. It does promise something far better: freedom from allowing money to become our master.

That brings us back to Zedekiah.

He wanted God to speak because the walls were closing in.

Perhaps one of the healthiest spiritual disciplines we can develop is to ask Zedekiah’s question before the crisis rather than during it.

“Is there any word from the Lord about this relationship?”

There is.

“Is there any word from the Lord about how I should handle temptation?”

There is.

“Is there any word from the Lord about forgiveness?”

There is.

“Is there any word from the Lord about my money, my speech, my anger, my priorities, my family, my work, my worship?”

There is.

But there is one more question we should add:

Am I prepared to obey if God’s Word tells me something I did not want to hear?

That is where Bible reading becomes discipleship.

We are not reading Scripture merely to collect information about ancient Israel, kings, prophets, battles, journeys, and doctrines. As we travel through the Bible this year, we are listening for the voice of the God who revealed Himself through these events and ultimately through Jesus Christ.

Hebrews 1:1–2 says, “In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son.”

Jeremiah carried the word of God to Zedekiah.

Jesus is the Word made flesh.

And Scripture continually directs us toward Him.

There will be days when that Word comforts us. Other days it will correct us. Sometimes it will confirm that we are walking faithfully. Sometimes it will stop us in our tracks and tell us that the road we have chosen leads somewhere we do not want to go.

But every time God speaks, He speaks as the One who knows the path better than we do.

So when you open your Bible, do not merely ask, “What can I learn today?”

Ask something more personal:

“Lord, what have You already said—and am I willing to live by it?”

Because even now, when we ask whether there is a word from the Lord, Scripture gives Jeremiah’s answer:

There is.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

The Messiah Who Refused the Spotlight

In the Life of Christ

One of the more puzzling things we encounter while walking through Mark’s Gospel is how often Jesus tells people not to talk about what they have just seen. A demon recognizes Him, and Jesus commands silence. A leper is healed, and Jesus tells him not to spread the news. The disciples finally confess that He is the Christ, and Jesus warns them not to tell anyone. At first glance, that almost seems backward. Wouldn’t Jesus want everyone to know who He was?

Biblical scholars often call this pattern the “Messianic Secret.” The study behind today’s devotion points out that Mark repeatedly records Jesus silencing demons, instructing healed people not to publicize miracles, withdrawing from crowds, and even commanding His disciples to remain quiet about His identity. Yet the more I look at these passages, the more I think the word secret can mislead us if we imagine Jesus was trying to keep people permanently ignorant. Jesus was not hiding His identity because He did not want to be known. He was controlling how and when He would be understood.

That distinction is important.

Mark Strauss notes that when Jesus silenced the demon in Mark 1, He was defining His Messiahship “on his own terms.” That helps us understand what was happening. Jesus would not allow demons, crowds, political expectations, or even enthusiastic disciples to write the definition of Messiah for Him.

First-century people carried enormous expectations about the Messiah. Many hoped for a descendant of David who would defeat Israel’s enemies and restore national freedom. Bible.org summarizes the expectation as that of a Davidic, even militaristic champion, while noting that the suffering aspect of Messiah’s mission was largely missed. Jesus knew that if the crowds heard “Messiah,” many of them would immediately think army, throne, Rome, liberation. Jesus was thinking servant, sacrifice, cross, resurrection.

Those are very different pictures.

This is why Jesus would not allow His miracles to become the center of His identity. He certainly healed the sick, cast out demons, restored sight, cleansed lepers, and even raised the dead. Those acts revealed the kingdom of God breaking into a broken world. But Jesus had not come merely to improve people’s present circumstances.

Our greatest problem was never that we were sick. Our greatest problem was that we were separated from God by sin.

R.C. Sproul observed that people repeatedly misunderstood Jesus’ messianic mission, and that Christ ultimately came not merely to relieve human suffering but to give His life-giving message and accomplish redemption. That is why a Messiah known only as a miracle worker would have been tragically misunderstood.

Think about the healed leper in Mark 1:40–45. Jesus told him to say nothing but to go show himself to the priest. The man instead spread the story everywhere. We can understand his excitement. If I had suffered from an isolating disease and suddenly found myself completely healed, I doubt I could easily keep quiet either.

But Mark tells us what happened next: the publicity became so intense that Jesus could no longer openly enter towns. The man’s enthusiasm actually complicated Jesus’ mission.

There is an insightful lesson there for discipleship. Good intentions are not always the same thing as obedience. The healed man undoubtedly thought he was honoring Jesus by telling everyone. Yet Jesus had told him otherwise.

Sometimes we can become so enthusiastic about doing something for Christ that we neglect what Christ actually asked us to do.

Jesus also needed time away from the crowds because He was forming disciples. Public ministry constantly demanded His attention, but Jesus knew that His mission would eventually be entrusted to a small group of ordinary people. He needed time to teach them, correct them, pray with them, and gradually reveal what His Messiahship really meant.

That explanation becomes especially clear in Mark 8.

Peter finally declares, “You are the Christ.” It sounds like he has understood everything. But almost immediately Jesus begins teaching that the Son of Man must suffer, be rejected, be killed, and rise again. Peter objects.

There is the problem in miniature.

Peter had the right title but the wrong definition.

He knew Jesus was Messiah, but he had not yet understood what Messiah must do. That is why Jesus’ identity could not be separated from the cross. Before Calvary, proclaiming Jesus as Messiah without explaining His suffering could easily produce a distorted gospel.

The same danger still exists.

People can want Jesus as healer without wanting Him as Lord. They can want Jesus to repair circumstances without confronting sin. They can want Him to remove suffering while resisting His call to take up a cross. We can even admire the miracles of Jesus while avoiding the mission of Jesus.

You cannot fully understand who Jesus is until you understand why He went to the cross.

There is another reason Jesus silenced the demons. Their identification of Him was technically accurate, but they were unacceptable witnesses. Evil spirits knew who Jesus was—Mark makes that remarkably clear—but Jesus did not need testimony from the kingdom He had come to defeat.

Truth does not become holy simply because someone says something factually correct. The source matters. The purpose matters. The heart matters.

Jesus would reveal Himself through His teaching, His works, His obedience to the Father, His suffering, His death, and ultimately His resurrection.

His humility also stands in striking contrast to the religious culture around Him. Some religious leaders loved public recognition, prominent positions, visible displays of devotion, and the admiration of others. Jesus repeatedly withdrew from precisely the kind of attention they craved.

Ligonier makes an important observation about the Messianic Secret: Jesus did not behave according to the expectations of His contemporaries because God is not obligated to conform Himself to our expectations; our expectations must instead be formed by Scripture.

That speaks directly into our own walk with Christ.

We sometimes come to Jesus carrying our own definition of what He ought to do. “If Jesus is really Lord, surely He will fix this.” “Surely He will answer this prayer the way I expect.” “Surely following Him should make this road easier.”

Then Jesus leads us toward surrender rather than comfort.

The first-century crowds wanted a Messiah who would conquer Rome. God gave them a Messiah who first conquered sin and death.

They wanted a throne.

God gave them a cross before the throne.

They wanted visible victory.

God gave them a suffering Servant whose apparent defeat became the means of eternal victory.

And perhaps that is why this strange silence in Mark is so valuable to us. Jesus refused to allow anyone else to define who He was. Not the demons. Not the crowds. Not the religious leaders. Not Rome. Not even His closest disciples.

Jesus must be received as the Messiah He actually is, not the Messiah we would prefer Him to be.

When the resurrection finally came, the silence would give way to proclamation. What had once been guarded could now be preached openly because the cross had explained the crown. The disciples could finally proclaim not merely that Jesus was Messiah, but what kind of Messiah He was:

The Servant who suffered.

The Lamb who died.

The Son who rose.

The King who reigns.

And that is the Jesus we follow.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

Closer Than the Air You Breathe

As the Day Begins

“Am I only a God nearby,” declares the LORD, “and not a God far away? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?” declares the LORD. “Do not I fill heaven and earth?” — Jeremiah 23:23–24

There are mornings when God feels very near. Prayer seems easy, Scripture seems alive, and His presence feels almost tangible. Then there are mornings when heaven seems silent and God feels distant. Jeremiah 23 reminds us that our perception is not the measure of God’s presence. God does not become distant simply because we cannot sense Him.

A. W. Tozer observed that human beings tend to imagine God spatially, placing Him somewhere “far away beyond the starlit sky.” Yet Jeremiah gives us a different picture. God asks, “Do not I fill heaven and earth?” He is not confined to a building, a sanctuary, a mountaintop, or even what we call heaven. God is present everywhere without being contained by anything He has made.

The Hebrew verb translated “fill” is mālēʾ (מָלֵא), carrying the idea of filling, completing, or occupying fully. Jeremiah’s point is not merely that God can travel anywhere. It is that there is nowhere we can go where God is absent. Psalm 139 expresses the same truth: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” The answer is nowhere.

That changes how we begin today.

You may walk into a hospital room, an office, a classroom, a factory, a patrol car, a kitchen, or a quiet house and wonder whether God is there. Jeremiah answers before the question is finished: He is. You may carry grief nobody sees, temptation nobody knows about, or a decision nobody else can make for you. God is already present in that place.

But there is another side to Jeremiah’s message. God’s nearness is comforting, but it is also searching. The original setting of Jeremiah 23 concerns false prophets who imagined they could speak falsely and remain hidden from God. They could not. Neither can we. The God who is near enough to comfort us is also near enough to see us clearly.

That need not frighten the child of God. Through Christ, the One who knows us completely is also the One who loves us fully. Jesus is Immanuel—“God with us” (Matthew 1:23). The God who fills heaven and earth stepped into human history, walked dusty roads, touched the suffering, welcomed sinners, carried our sin to the cross, and rose again. God did not merely tell us He was near. In Jesus, He showed us.

So this morning, do not measure God’s nearness by your emotions. Feelings rise and fall like morning fog. God’s presence does not. Before you arrive anywhere today, God is already there.

Triune Prayer

Heavenly Father, thank You that I never begin a day alone. Before my eyes opened this morning, You were present. Before I knew what this day would hold, You already knew every conversation, interruption, difficulty, and blessing ahead of me. Forgive me for the times I live as though You were far away. Help me remember that You fill heaven and earth, and teach me to walk today with an awareness that I am always living before You. Let Your nearness steady me when circumstances become uncertain and humble me when I am tempted to depend only upon myself.

Jesus the Son, thank You for making the nearness of God visible. You came among us as Immanuel, entered our suffering, carried our sin, and opened the way for us to live in peace with the Father. Walk with me through this day. When I am impatient, remind me of Your gentleness. When I am tempted, remind me of Your obedience. When someone needs mercy, help me remember how freely You have shown mercy to me. May my words, choices, and attitudes make Your presence believable to those I encounter.

Holy Spirit, make me sensitive to Your presence throughout this day. Interrupt my hurried thoughts when I forget God. Convict me when I begin moving in a direction that does not honor Christ. Give me wisdom when I do not know what to say and restraint when silence would serve better. Fill ordinary moments with an awareness of divine presence. Teach me to recognize that wherever I am today, You are already there, working in ways I may not yet understand.

Thought for the Day

Do not spend today trying to bring God closer. Begin instead by remembering that He is already present. Walk slowly enough to notice Him, listen carefully enough to hear His Word, and live honestly enough to welcome His searching presence.

Jeremiah 23:23–24 teaches the biblical doctrine often called God’s omnipresence: God is fully present throughout His creation while remaining greater than creation itself. His presence provides both comfort and accountability. For the Christian, this truth reaches its clearest expression in Jesus Christ, Immanuel, and in the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. God’s nearness is therefore not dependent upon emotion, location, or circumstance; it rests upon His unchanging nature and promise.

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW

 

Still in the Family, but Missing the Prize

Heaven — Loss by Disqualification

There is something both encouraging and sobering about watching an athlete prepare for competition. The athlete may already belong to the team, wear the uniform, and have a place in the locker room, but that does not automatically mean he will receive the prize. Participation requires discipline. Victory requires perseverance. And that is precisely the picture Paul gives us when he talks about the Christian life.

Paul writes, “Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win” (1 Corinthians 9:24). He then describes athletes exercising self-control because they want a temporary wreath, while Christians are pursuing something imperishable. Finally comes his warning: “I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified” (1 Corinthians 9:27).

The Greek word translated “disqualified” is adokimos (ἀδόκιμος), meaning something tested and found unapproved or unfit. Paul was not afraid that Christ would suddenly revoke his salvation. His concern was that he could finish his ministry in a way that forfeited reward. Mark Hitchcock describes this distinction well: “The point of these texts is not loss of salvation, but disqualification for rewards.”

That distinction matters. A child can disappoint his father without ceasing to be his child. In the same way, Scripture presents salvation as God’s gracious gift while also teaching that our faithfulness matters and that God delights in rewarding obedience.

The Bible uses several groups of passages to establish this expectation. Jesus repeatedly spoke of His Father seeing what is done faithfully and rewarding it (Matthew 6:4, 6, 18). Paul described believers appearing before Christ so that each may receive what is due for the way life has been lived (2 Corinthians 5:10). First Corinthians 3 pictures our work being tested, with some work enduring and receiving reward while other work is burned away. Revelation closes with Christ declaring that He comes with His reward to repay according to what each person has done.

Taken together, these passages present a Father who saves us by grace and then delights to recognize what His grace produces in His children. Heaven is not earned by faithful service, but Scripture plainly teaches that faithfulness in this life carries eternal significance.

That is why Paul reaches back to Israel’s wilderness generation in 1 Corinthians 10. They had experienced God’s deliverance, provision, and guidance, yet many failed to enter the blessing God intended because they repeatedly turned toward idolatry, immorality, testing God, and grumbling. Their story became a warning for believers: spiritual privilege should never become spiritual presumption.

That last sin may surprise us. Grumbling seems small beside idolatry and immorality, but persistent complaining exposes something happening deeper in the heart. It quietly says, “God has not treated me as He should.” Gratitude keeps us running toward God; habitual resentment gradually convinces us that His course is not worth running.

Paul took this seriously enough to include himself. Apostleship did not exempt him from discipline. Preaching did not excuse careless living. Yesterday’s victories did not guarantee tomorrow’s faithfulness. He ran deliberately because he wanted to finish well.

And finish well he did. Near the end of his life Paul could write, “There is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day” (2 Timothy 4:8). The man who once feared disqualification could finally look toward the finish line with confidence.

Perhaps that should reshape how we think about heaven. God is not standing at the finish line reluctantly handing out prizes. He is the Father who has been preparing His children for home and who takes pleasure in saying that their faithfulness mattered.

So stay in the race. When you stumble, get up. When temptation pulls toward the sidelines, remember the prize. When obedience becomes difficult, remember that nothing faithfully offered to Christ is wasted.

May the Lord strengthen your steps, steady your heart, and give you the joy of someday standing before Christ knowing that, by His grace, you stayed the course and finished faithfully.

Blessings,
Pastor Hogg

FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE OR POST SO OTHERS MAY KNOW