JRMITCH85 Uncategorized

Revealing The Change

6 Now I watched when the Lamb opened one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures say with a voice like thunder, “Come!” 2 And I looked, and behold, a white horse! And its rider had a bow, and a crown was given to him, and he came out conquering, and to conquer. 3 When he opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come!” 4 And out came another horse, bright red. Its rider was permitted to take peace from the earth, so that people should slay one another, and he was given a great sword. 5 When he opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” And I looked, and behold, a black horse! And its rider had a pair of scales in his hand. 6 And I heard what seemed to be a voice in the midst of the four living creatures, saying, “A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius, and do not harm the oil and wine!” 7 When he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” 8 And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him. And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts of the earth. 9 When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. 10 They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” 11 Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been. 12 When he opened the sixth seal, I looked, and behold, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black as sackcloth, the full moon became like blood, 13 and the stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale. 14 The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place. 15 Then the kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, 16 calling to the mountains and rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb, 17 for the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand?” 

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Re 6:1–17.

We live in the friction between the orderly and predictable and the volatile and chaotic atmosphere. In the Antelope Valley we are a community that has been built on the precision of engineering and the structured growth of the suburbs and here there is a deep-seated craving for the industrial predictability of a well-oiled machine. Yet, we find ourselves navigating a reality defined by global instability and systemic problems that no simple planning application can solve. As we approach Revelation, particularly the breaking of the seals in chapter six, we seek a reclamation of order. It is not a cryptic map designed to satisfy the curiosity of the speculative mind. Rather, it becomes a sophisticated diagnostic tool for the twenty-first-century disciple by giving a glimpse into the spiritual mechanics of how Jesus becomes King. We see that the Lamb does not secure His kingdom through a seamless administrative transition or a series of optimized processes. Rather, He brings about His reign through the systemic dismantling of the world’s powers, forcing us to realize that the Lamb’s perspective reframes every storm as a necessary step in the reclamation of all things.

The storms begin as the seals are opened up, as the opening of the first four seals functions as a systematic audit of the secular structures we often mistake for unshakeable foundations, revealing that what we call normal is a fragile establishment awaiting disruption. In the first seal, the white horse with its bow and crown represents the deceptive diplomacy of a manufactured, top-down peace that lacks any moral framework, which challenges us to look at our alliances and political positioning, for they are weak and not ready for a significant challenge. The red horse follows, whose sword and blood signal the removal of restraint and the sudden collapse of civil order, proving that human military peace is a fragile temporary absence of conflict rather than true security. The third seal introduces the black horse with its scales and grain, illustrating the brokenness of global economics illustrated through a sudden weakness of the supply chains we rely on for our basic needs. Finally, the pale horse of death and Hades exposes our biological insecurity, where even the highest levels of industrial productivity and innovation fail in the face of pestilence and mortality. Each horse points out that even the strongest parts of the world have only an illusion of stability, because when facing the judgement of God all of the structures crumble at the feet of the Almighty; thus serving as a diagnostic report that strips away the illusion of suburban stability and forces a shift in reliance from the world to the Lamb who holds authority to open the seals.

As the narrative transitions from human tragedy to a catastrophic brokenness, the breaking of the final two seals reveals the accelerated decay that occurs when the world’s spiritual foundations are stripped away. The fifth seal presents a striking paradox where judgment is signaled through the removal of the faithful; as the souls of the slain cry out for justice, we see that when the salt and light are extracted from the system, the world’s moral and social rot reaches terminal velocity. For the modern faithful, this reminds us that victory is not found in dominance but in the sacrificial character of Christ that often looks like defeat. Which then sets the stage for the sixth seal, a transformation where nature itself rolls up like a scroll and the physical constants we rely upon begin to dissolve. The ultimate irony of this moment is found in the reaction of the world’s most powerful figures, from kings to generals, who are not fleeing a predatory lion but are instead terrified by The Lamb. In their final, desperate calculation, they choose the falling rocks of a collapsing world over the One that rolled the stone away. This proves that without a change in perspective, even the most brilliant will seek shelter in the very systems that are failing them. Thus it reminds us to place our faith not in the fallible world, but in the everlasting Almighty.

By inspiring this allegiance in the faithful, God illuminates in this moment that Revelation and the tearing open of the seals reveals the change by connecting the revelation of the scroll to the creation of the world. Tearing open the seals is not an act of destruction but a deliberate process of re-creation. This overlapping of biblical history connects the revelation of the scroll directly back to the dawn of Genesis, showing us that the End is inextricably linked to the Beginning. Just as the first chapter of Scripture outlines six days of divine work to bring order out of chaos, the opening of the six seals represents six stages of decisive action intended to deconstruct a fallen system. This strategy reveals that judgment is the necessary labor pain required to birth a new creative order. In the world with its faulty foundation, there must be a clearing before a new structure can rise, this parallel is vital. It reframes the chaotic events of our world not as evidence of a failed Creator, but as the systematic removal of everything preventing the world from being good again.

The mission of the church in this present moment requires a fundamental shift in our operational blueprint, moving from the industrial leadership of a CEO to the missional path of the Lamb. This transition is governed by a strict constraint: you cannot lead a new world using the old tools of the world. While the world’s leadership relies on the industrial and coercive mechanisms of fear, authoritarianism, and deception to maintain its position by eliminating perceived threats, the Lamb introduces a revolutionary model of power through powerlessness. This missional authority is not found in the roar of professional dominance but in the silence of sacrifice and the victory of vulnerability. For the faithful, the mandate is to perform a rigorous audit of your life to determine if you have become a consuming force or if you are living with transparency and grace. We must trust that God’s seal offers us protection through the trial rather than an escape from it, which empowers us to reject coercion entirely. By refusing to use the tools of the all-consuming leadership to solve the world’s problems, we demonstrate that our ultimate allegiance belongs to the One whose kingdom is not built on the leverage of the world, but on the enduring strength of the Cross.

Therefore, as we witness the opening of the seals and the subsequent breaking down of the world order, we must refuse to look upon these events with dismay or fear. Each seal functions as a vital warning against placing our primary trust in the fragile systems that uphold the world, redirecting our gaze toward the sovereign hand of God as He opens the scroll to reveal the profound transformation He is bringing to pass. As followers of Christ, we find our hope in the reality that the injustice and pain of this world are not eternal, but are instead the labor pains of an impending birth. This is not senseless destruction; it is the systematic emergence of a new creation. We are anchored by the image of the Lamb, who is the Lion of Judah who conquers as a slaughtered Lamb and the King of Kings who reigns by serving. In the midst of our darkness our success as disciples depends entirely on our alignment with the Lamb. He alone is the Almighty who leads us into grace, and He is the only one worthy to open the seals of history and reveals the change into a kingdom that can never be shaken.

JRMITCH85 Character, Faith, Hope

Changing Our Eyes

Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. 2 And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” 3 And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, 4 and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. 5 And one of the elders said to me, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” 6 And between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. 7 And he went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who was seated on the throne. 8 And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. 9 And they sang a new song, saying, “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, 10  and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.” 11 Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, 12 saying with a loud voice, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” 13 And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” 14 And the four living creatures said, “Amen!” and the elders fell down and worshiped.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Re 5:1–14.

We often walk through life wearing goggles that are tinted by the exhausting belief that the world’s brokenness can be mended through the sheer force of human will. We look for a charismatic guru or a political savior to step forward and claim the scroll of destiny, yet the vision of John as seen in Revelation 5 shatters this optical illusion with a deafening, heavenly silence. This scene illuminates our condition, because as God holds the scroll containing His “Last Will and Testament” for creation, the search for someone worthy to open it turns up empty, exposing the bankruptcy of both secular power and religious hierarchy. John’s excruciating weeping in this moment isn’t just grief; it is the existential realization that our achievements are fundamentally unworthy. To truly see, we must remove the lenses of human effort and accept a perspective where hope does not rise from our own strength, but from the only One capable of resolving the crisis of worthiness.

This shift in perspective leads to the greatest bait-and-switch. Standing in the wreckage of our shattered expectations, John is told to look for a Lion, the ultimate symbol of raw, conquering power, but when he turns, he sees a “Lamb standing as if it had been slain.” The Lion does not become a Lamb, nor does the Lamb later transform into a predator; rather, the Lion is the Lamb. Our cultural fascination with dominance and “strongman” optics clouds our vision, making it difficult to comprehend a holiness that triumphs through vulnerability. Yet, Christ’s power is not a lack of strength, but a perfection of it. Adorned with seven horns representing total authority and seven eyes signifying an omniscience born from being a victim of the very imperial systems we often trust for security, He rules from the center of the throne. He brings worthiness to the unworthy not through competitive force, but through a union forged in the marks of the cross, proving that true sovereignty is found in the One who was sacrificed to heal the world.

A change from the sound of the lion to the vision of the lamb demands a total re-evaluation of how we define power by forcing us to choose between two irreconcilable models of sovereignty. While we are conditioned to recognize beastly power that relies on brute force and the desperate necessity of staying on top by crushing enemies, the lamb-like power of the throne stands in stark contrast. The lamb achieves victory not through the mechanics of destruction but through meek obedience and the transformative word of His mouth, presenting a radical claim that upends our instincts because Christ never rules from the militaristic view of subjugation. The religious community is tempted to pick up the tools of dominance that the world uses to achieve the goals of heaven, falling for a misrepresentation of the Gospel that suggests God will eventually abandon the cross in favor of brute force to accomplish His Will. Unfortunately, in order to believe this would suggest that violence rather than love is the source of salvation. Viewing reality from God’s perspective requires us to reject the urge to swap the crown of thorns for a helmet of iron and recognize instead that the victory of the cross was not temporary but is the final revelation of how true power actually works.

Our capacity for understanding the power God uses does not originate from our own sources of information or intellectual striving but flows instead from a posture of humility that seeks the mind of Christ. The shift toward the knowledge of the Lamb leads us to recognize that being on top of the hierarchy of power and privilege often blinds us to the very truths we claim to possess. Unlike the coercive rationalism of the world that seeks to force agreement through intellectual or social subjugation, the Lamb adopts patience as its primary method by allowing the truth to speak and maintaining a radical willingness to let the news be rejected. By viewing the world from below, we align our vision with God and discover that those with whom we disagree are actually necessary to our own process of finding truth. This perspective teaches us that we do not need to be powerful or positioned on the top rung of the ladder to matter because true knowledge manifests as kindness and grace in the face of questioning. Rooted in the intention to leave others better off than we found them, seeking the mind of Christ means refusing to waste a single moment of a precious life adding to the world’s pain through the pursuit of dominance.

Through our eyes and distorted vision we are guided to idolatry where we define worship by whatever we rely on for security. This is a high-functioning idolatry that occurs when our social connections bind us stronger than our baptism, thus trusting in human systems of subjugation rather than divine grace. In our fear, we grasp for the instruments of war to provide safety and order, choosing the path of conflict over the Word of God. This shift in loyalty exposes a fundamental misunderstanding of the Gospel, for if we believe Jesus conquers by killing his enemies, we are simply worshipping Caesar; just under a different name. To work our way back to the Lamb is to recognize that His victory is unique because He conquers by shedding His own blood rather than the blood of others. We must abandon the pursuit of power through dominance and return to the One who proves that true sovereignty is found in sacrificial love rather than the tools of the powerful.

To step away from the allure of the lion-like strongman and realign our hearts with the Lamb, we must first admit that our reliance on dominance is a symptom of deep-seated fear. Transforming our worship requires a radical migration of trust, moving from the visible security of the crowd to the invisible, cruciform power of Christ. This is not a passive surrender but an active, daily choice to view our neighbors, our enemies, and our own failures through the lens of the cross. By intentionally divesting from the pursuit of beastly power, we begin to see that holiness does not require the humiliation of others to prove its worth. Instead, we find a steady, unshakeable peace in the Lamb who rules through sacrifice, inviting us to exchange our heavy helmets of iron for the lightness of His grace.

JRMITCH85 Character, Decisions, Faith, Hope

Throne For One

After this I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven! And the first voice, which I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet, said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.” 2 At once I was in the Spirit, and behold, a throne stood in heaven, with one seated on the throne. 3 And he who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald. 4 Around the throne were twenty-four thrones, and seated on the thrones were twenty-four elders, clothed in white garments, with golden crowns on their heads. 5 From the throne came flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder, and before the throne were burning seven torches of fire, which are the seven spirits of God, 6 and before the throne there was as it were a sea of glass, like crystal. And around the throne, on each side of the throne, are four living creatures, full of eyes in front and behind: 7 the first living creature like a lion, the second living creature like an ox, the third living creature with the face of a man, and the fourth living creature like an eagle in flight. 8 And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and within, and day and night they never cease to say, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” 9 And whenever the living creatures give glory and honor and thanks to him who is seated on the throne, who lives forever and ever, 10 the twenty-four elders fall down before him who is seated on the throne and worship him who lives forever and ever. They cast their crowns before the throne, saying, 11  “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.”

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Re 4:1–11.

In a world of eight-second attention spans and fierce brand loyalties, worship has evolved into a daily, counter-formative act that often misdirects our deepest devotion toward sports teams, political parties, and consumer identities. We frequently crown these modern-day royals with a level of passion and allegiance that belongs to the Divine alone, failing to realize that these earthly honors are merely pale, hollow replications of true glory. True worship is not a curated performance for our entertainment, but a conversation initiated by the Triune God. By giving God glory, we intentionally deny it to ourselves and to the ideologies we often treat as idols, thus acknowledging, through a spirit of grace and gratitude, that we are not self-made creatures. This shift in focus requires a radical transition, using the call to worship in Revelation to physically and mentally transport us from the fog of mundane anxiety through the door that is open to us into the vivid scenery of the heavenly realm. As we echo the eternal cry of “Holy, Holy, Holy,” the crowns we once offered to fleeting trends and leaders fall away, replaced by a singular, transformative focus on the only One truly worthy of our praise.

Looking at heaven, John’s vision anchors the universe not in the struggle of human ambition for power but around the central symbol of the Throne. Instead of glancing toward earthly powers scrambling to fill perceived voids of authority, John reveals that the seat of ultimate power is and has always been occupied. This visual scene reveals a God whose character is defined by a combination of Jasper and Carnelian, reflecting an interplay between healing holy light and fiery, judgmental red. Additionally, encircling the seat of sovereign dominion is a Green Rainbow, a vertical, eternal circle that stands in stark contrast to the fleeting arcs of the earth. The halo of emerald serves as a token of God’s Covenant with the world, leading us to understand that God’s mercy is not a secondary thought but a force that informs and encompasses His judgment. While the thunders of divine justice are real, they are forever wrapped in the emerald of grace to ensure that we are forever under His steady and merciful reign.

When we focus on the throne, we ultimately encounter a divine hierarchy that paradoxically levels humanity’s pride by redirecting all glory toward the Creator. At the forefront of the worshipping church are the Elders, who represent the full sweep of the People of God, from the twelve tribes of Israel to the twelve apostles. Though they possess crowns of victory, their defining act is the casting down of those crowns as an acknowledgment that any human authority or achievement is purely derivative and secondary to the Almighty God. The Four Living Creatures, who serve as the ideal of creation by embodying the diverse facets of the created order, echo the actions of the Elders. The Lion represents righteousness through strength used for equity, while the Ox signifies the diligence of tireless service in the cultural mandate. The Man provides the pinnacle of intelligence and sympathy, just as the Eagle offers the contemplation of a high-soaring vision for divine truth. Together, these figures illustrate that worship is not an artificial addition to existence but the natural and intended state of all creation. We are strongly cautioned against rearranging worship to put our own desires at the center. When we recognize that none in humanity possesses inherent worthiness to be worshipped, we finally align ourselves with the cosmic order and find our purpose in the adoration of the One by whom and for whom all things were made.

The Almighty occupies the Throne and exposes the vanity of all earthly contenders. This divine centerpiece serves as a direct rebuttal to the vying powers of idolatry, reminding us that when the Lamb is truly seated at the center of our lives, there is simply no room for any rival authority. This echoes the conviction of theologians, pastors, and followers of Christ that the church must reject any order that claims absolute authority belonging to God alone. Today, we must identify and cast down modern throne usurpers that subtly creep into our sanctuaries and our lives. We often succumb to the consumer idol when we evaluate worship by whether we like the music rather than whether God is glorified, or we mistake a spiritual pep rally driven by marketing and emotional hype for the genuine movement of the Holy Spirit. Perhaps most dangerously, we risk the ideological idol when we allow any political or other dogmatic stance to garner our worship alongside the Lamb on the throne. We are bound to worship God only as he has instituted through his Word and not according to our own preferences or cultural trends. By rejecting the worship of the creation in all its deceptive forms, we clear the way to offer our total devotion to the Creator who alone is worthy of the glory and honor described in the celestial throne room.

Ultimately, worship serves as a mission that does not end with the benediction but begins with a formal commissioning; we do not leave the throne, but are sent by it to act as agents of God’s Throne in a world of pretenders. According to the principles of our faith, each of us is charged to carry the reality of the heavenly realm into the mundane, and to publicly acknowledge and resist any earthly power that demands our loyalty. To fulfill this call, we must embrace the circle of grace even when life feels like crashing thunder, taking the cultural mandate found in the strength of the Lion, the diligence of the Ox, the sympathy of the Man, and the vision of the Eagle into our workplaces and communities. By doing so, we ensure that our lives become a living extension of the throne room, proving that our purpose is found only in the adoration and service of the Creator.

JRMITCH85 Uncategorized

We Are Known By God

7 “And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: ‘The words of the holy one, the true one, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens. 8 “ ‘I know your works. Behold, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut. I know that you have but little power, and yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. 9 Behold, I will make those of the synagogue of Satan who say that they are Jews and are not, but lie—behold, I will make them come and bow down before your feet, and they will learn that I have loved you. 10 Because you have kept my word about patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth. 11 I am coming soon. Hold fast what you have, so that no one may seize your crown. 12 The one who conquers, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God. Never shall he go out of it, and I will write on him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down from my God out of heaven, and my own new name. 13 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ 

14 “And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: ‘The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation. 15 “ ‘I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! 16 So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. 17 For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. 18 I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. 19 Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent. 20 Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me. 21 The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne. 22 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ ”

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Re 3:7–22.

We find ourselves in a season where the Church often feels paralyzed, locked in a metaphorical prison of our own making. Whether it is the iron bars of cultural pressure, the shackles of internal division, or the stifling walls of spiritual lethargy, we feel restricted and unable to do what we want, and powerless to do what we ought. We are stuck, and in this confinement, we are desperate for hope. It is precisely here, in the shadow of restriction, that we must look to the Apostle John. Exiled on the barren, rocky island of Patmos, John was physically imprisoned, cut off from his community and his work. Yet, it was in this place of isolation that heaven didn’t send a message in a bottle, but rather it broke in with a visitation. God did not merely send John information to study, but he was sent a Person to see, as the veil revealed that Christ is not a distant auditor checking boxes from afar, but is alive and active, walking among the churches. To understand the hope we have in our own prison, we must understand that Christ is the anchor of our hope as the One who walks among us is also the One who sees through us and knows us, and even with all of that Christ still stands for us.

That look at the churches ultimately transforms into a simple phrase that Jesus repeats with precision, “I know.” When He speaks this to the churches, He is not merely indicating he is aware of their calendar of activities, but He opens up a covenant lawsuit. The risen Christ, standing as both King and Judge, issues a verdict on their faith, love, endurance, and obedience. Jesus pushes away the public relations and the reputation to reveal the true spiritual state of His people, because public perception means nothing, and reality is everything. We see this vividly when we look at the disparity between how the world saw these seven churches and how Jesus saw them. In Ephesus, though they had impressive doctrine, Jesus saw their love had cooled into heartless orthodoxy. While in Smyrna, they were afflicted and poor, but Christ viewed them as truly rich. The church in Pergamum displayed courage in the face of hostility; however, Jesus still indicted them for being compromised in holiness. Thyatira’s Christians were growing in service and love, but had a dangerous tolerance for internal corruption. While Sardis had a famous reputation for being full of life, but yet God pronounced them dead.

Nowhere is the contrast between worldly metrics and divine reality sharper than in the letter to Philadelphia. Here was a church situated in a frontier city, a missionary crossroads that had been literally shaken by earthquakes and plagued by civic instability. To the naked eye, they appeared fragile, a community possessing little to no power. However, Jesus introduces Himself to them not merely as an observer, but as “the Holy One, the True One, who has the key of David.” He reminds them that He alone controls access, opportunity, and final vindication. They kept His word despite their apparent weakness, He offered them three staggering promises. First, He sets before them an open door, which is a missional opportunity that no human force can shut, granted not to the impressive, but to the faithful. Second, He promises a great reversal, assuring them that their opponents will one day be forced to acknowledge that this overlooked community is the one beloved by the Lord. And finally, to a people living in a city terrified of the ground shaking beneath them, He promises they will be a pillar in the temple of my God, the embodiment of immovable, unshakable security. We see in Philadelphia that a church with little power but great faithfulness can carry enormous kingdom weight.

In stark contrast stands Laodicea, a warning against the danger of comfortable uselessness. This city was wealthy and self-sufficient, but its water supply was its fatal flaw. While nearby Hierapolis boasted hot healing springs and Colossae offered cold, refreshing mountain water, Laodicea had to pipe its water in. By the time it arrived, it was lukewarm and nauseating—good for nothing but to be spit out. When Christ calls them “lukewarm,” it isn’t a rebuke about a lack of emotional heat or spiritual zeal; rather Jesus rebukes their lack of usefulness. They were neither healing like the hot springs nor refreshing like the cold water. They had succumbed to the ultimate self-deception, declaring, “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.” When Christ strips away their bank accounts to reveal that they are “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked”. To this self-reliant people, He offers three specific remedies: exchange material security for a faith purified by trial, lay aside self-made status and embrace righteousness that covers their shame, and confess their spiritual blindness to receive sight from the Spirit, which is especially poignant in a city famous for treating physical eyes. In Laodicea we see that Christ’s harshest words are not for the persecuted but for the comfortable.

It is a sobering audit that forces us to look in the mirror. Christ’s verdicts expose how often our metrics of success and His are worlds apart. Jesus walks among us today, and His words “I know” are not meant to drive us into despair, but to lead us toward freedom, just as He did with the seven churches. He looks past our public persona to reveal the specific things we need to work through in our hidden compromises, and the prisons of our own making, formed through the habits that stifle our light. He exposes these areas not to shame us, but because we cannot be healed of what we refuse to acknowledge. But here is the vital balance: His gaze is not only searching; it is validating. He also sees the quiet faithfulness that no one else notices. He sees where you have endured like Smyrna, where you have kept His word with “little power” like Philadelphia, and where you have labored in love despite exhaustion. He knows the secret battles you have won and the silent sacrifices you have made. The eyes of fire do not just burn away the chaff; they also illuminate the gold. In this, we find our greatest comfort: we are fully known, yet fully loved, by the only One whose opinion actually matters.

Ultimately, we must ask why God bothers to disrupt us when we feel perfectly comfortable in our prisons. Why does He expose our blindness or our coldness? His rebuke is not a denial of His affection, but the ultimate proof of it; He loves us too much to leave us in the dark. This divine discipline demands a response, not guilt, but a return to righteousness and faith. It is a call to trade cold duty and religious performance for loving obedience. And while this letter is addressed to the whole church, the invitation is personal for it states: “He who has an ear, let him hear.” You cannot force the whole church to change, but you can be a force for change within it. It is better to be crushed and faithful than comfortable and useless. God gives us a job to do and a people to be because He sees not just who we are, but who we can be in Him. Francis Schaeffer asked the question: “If the Holy Spirit left our church this week, how long would it take us to notice?” We will only notice if we find ourselves living in the constant presence of Christ, who walks among us.

We hear the words of Christ while huddled in a prison of our own making, paralyzed and unable to do what we ought. But the vision of Revelation reveals that the door to this prison is locked from the inside. The Lord, the One with eyes of fire who sees everything, stands at that door and knocks. He does not batter it down with overwhelming power, instead He invites fellowship. He promises, “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him”. The Church and followers of Christ must cast off the works of darkness, the quarreling and jealousy that keep us shackled in the dark, and exchange it for light. We are called to put on the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. His looking upon us with knowing eyes refines us, burning away impurities, not to destroy us, but so that we may stand with joy and confidence in God’s Holy Presence. We do not have to hide in our cells any longer, we are invited to open the door, and walk in the light of the love of a God that knows us.

JRMITCH85 Uncategorized

Revealing Jesus Is The Point

1 The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show to his servants the things that must soon take place. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, 2 who bore witness to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ, even to all that he saw. 3 Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near. 

4 John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, 5 and from Jesus Christ the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth. To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood 6 and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 7 Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen. 8 “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” Vision of the Son of Man 

9 I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. 10 I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet 11 saying, “Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamum and to Thyatira and to Sardis and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea.” 12 Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, 13 and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. 14 The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, 15 his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. 17 When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, 18 and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades. 19 Write therefore the things that you have seen, those that are and those that are to take place after this. 20 As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands, the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Re 1:1–20.

The Book of Revelation often comes with a heavy reputation. For many of us, it conjures up images of confusing charts, terrifying beasts, and debates about timelines that leave us more anxious than anchored. We tend to approach it like a riddle to be solved or a code to be cracked, obsessing over the “when” and the “how” of the end times. But if we start there, we miss the entire heartbeat of the book. As we begin this journey together, I want to suggest that the key to unlocking this final book of the Bible isn’t found in a timeline, but in a person. The title itself gives it away: it is not “The Revelation of the End of the World” or “The Revelation of Future Events.” It is, very simply, The Revelation of Jesus Christ.

The word “Revelation” comes from the Greek word apokalypsis, which means an “unveiling” or a “revealing.” It’s the image of a curtain being pulled back to show what is actually there. We often use the word “apocalypse” to mean disaster or catastrophe, but its biblical meaning is far more hopeful. It is about pulling back the curtain of our current reality, with all its chaos, sorrow, and confusion, to reveal who is really on the throne. The point of this book is not to obscure the truth with symbols, but to reveal the Truth Himself. It is designed to show us Jesus in a way we perhaps haven’t seen Him before: not just as the suffering servant or the teacher in Galilee, but as the risen, ruling, and reigning King of the cosmos.

At the core of the introduction, we see the Apostle John, exiled on the island of Patmos, hearing a voice like a trumpet. When he turns to see the voice, he doesn’t see a calendar of events; he sees a Person. He sees the Son of Man, clothed in a long robe, with a golden sash, eyes like a flame of fire, and a voice like the roar of many waters. This is Jesus, unveiled in His glory. It’s a vision so overwhelming that John, who once leaned against Jesus’ chest at the Last Supper, falls at His feet as though dead. This response is crucial. When we truly see Jesus in His holiness and power, our first response is often a reverent fear. We realize that He is not a tame God that fits neatly into our boxes.

This is exemplified by the glorified Jesus reaching out and laying His right hand on John, and speaking words that should echo in our hearts: “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one.” The point of revealing Jesus is not to terrify us, but to comfort us. Because He is the First, He was there before our problems began, He is the Last, He will be there after they are long gone, and because He is the Living One who died and is alive forevermore, He holds the keys to everything we are afraid of, even death itself.

Let’s keep the main thing the main thing. We aren’t here to speculate about the future; rather, we are here to meet the One who holds the future. If you find yourself lost in the symbols or fearful of the signs, come back to the center. Look for Jesus. Revealing Him is the point. When we see Him clearly, standing with the lampstands and holding the stars in His hands, we see Jesus ruling over history, and it changes how we live in the present. We can stop living in fear of what is to come, because we know Who is already here.

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In The Light Of A New Year We Begin Again

1 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. 2 The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. 3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Ge 1:1–5.

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Jn 1:1–5.

At the beginning of a new year, the image that comes to mind is that of a blank slate: crisp planners, empty calendars, and clean pages that have yet to be marked. January feels fresh, full of possibilities, and the shelves are lined with tools for organizing and reinventing life. Many people head to the gym with renewed determination, crowding the space for the first couple of weeks as they try to improve themselves. That same impulse toward new beginnings should exist spiritually as well, stirring a hunger to pick up Scripture with a fresh commitment and to start again with God. Beneath that desire lies a deeper awareness that something inside is not right, that there is hurt, groaning, and a genuine need for change.​

This need for a true new beginning is reflected in the opening of Genesis, where the earth is described as without form and void, with darkness over the face of the deep and the Spirit of God hovering over the waters. The picture is one of confusion, emptiness, and shapelessness—a world in chaos. Into that chaos, God does not struggle or force anything; God simply speaks. With the words “Let there be light,” light appears, order begins, and God separates light from darkness and calls it good. Even today, the phrase “Let there be light” echoes in places like the University of California’s motto, expressing a commitment to bringing illumination and understanding into confusion. This is how God works: by the power of a spoken word that brings order, meaning, and goodness where there was once only disorder.​​

The prologue of the Gospel of John picks up this same theme of beginnings, declaring that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John intentionally echoes Genesis to show that the arrival of Jesus is a new creation event, an act of re‑creation in a dark world. By using the Greek term logos, John speaks both to the Hebrew story of creation by God’s word and to the Greek understanding of logos as the ordering principle of the universe. Logos is no mere concept; it is a person, Jesus Christ, through whom all things were made, in whom is life, and whose life is the light of humanity. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it, even when that darkness takes the form of rejection, suffering, and the cross.​​

Because of this, the hope for a new year is not found in a reset button that erases the past, but in God’s ongoing work of re‑creation. No one can truly wipe away their history or pretend their failures never happened, and Scripture does not begin with a world that is already good, but with one that is disordered and chaotic. God speaks into that chaos and only then declares it good, just as Christ confronts sin rather than skipping over it. Personal chaos, stress, anxiety, fear, broken relationships, does not vanish the moment someone turns to Christ; those patterns continue to threaten and return. The call is to remember where those patterns came from, to understand the past rather than ignore it, and to let God’s word keep speaking order and light into the places where darkness tries to reemerge.​

In a world where each morning’s headlines reveal new sites of chaos and brokenness, God still says, “Let there be light,” and invites people to be that light in the new year. This invitation is not about forcing change or overpowering others, but about quietly and consistently reflecting the light of Christ through everyday life. The world does not need more clever religious slogans or symbols to identify Christians; it needs men and women whose kindness, consideration, love, and integrity make the presence of Christ visible. Each sunrise and sunset becomes a reminder to “do it again,” to begin again in being light in the darkness. To step into this year, then, is to accept the opportunity to live outwardly what God has begun inwardly, letting the eternal light placed within shine so that others can see and know there is a God who still brings order out of chaos and invites everyone to begin again.

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Witness and Witness

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 And all went to be registered, each to his own town. 4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, 5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. 6 And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. The Shepherds and the Angels 8 And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. 10 And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12 And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 14  “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” 15 When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. 17 And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. 18 And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. 20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. 

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 2:1–20.

We find ourselves in a season that pulls us in two directions. Out in the world, the pace quickens to a frantic rush. The lights are bright, the music is giddy, and the lists are long. It is a season of doing, of buying, of wrapping, of planning. Yet, at the heart faith is a story that begins not with a rush, but with a profound and holy stillness. It begins on an ordinary night, in the quiet fields outside Bethlehem, where a few shepherds were keeping watch over their flocks. Nothing was happening. The world was asleep. And it was into that silence that the heavens broke open with the song of angels. The central purpose of Advent is to seek the quietness in our own hearts, and to pause, as the shepherds did, and truly listen to the angel song that pierces the noise of our lives, which is the “good news of great joy” that is for all people. In Jesus, God did not just send a baby; He sent us a series of transformative gifts, wrapped not in paper and bows, but in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger. These gifts understood as Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love guide us to an understanding of why God sent the Savior in the form of a vulnerable baby, and to receive them is to understand our purpose. And to share them is to fulfill our highest and most sacred calling.

The season of Advent is, above all, a season of hopeful waiting. But the hope that Scripture speaks of is not the flimsy optimism our world so often peddles. It is not a feeling that things might get better. Biblical hope is a steadfast, rugged trust in the unchanging character of God and in His ancient promises—promises that find their ultimate and breathtaking fulfillment in the birth of Jesus. This is a hope that confronts worldly disappointment head-on. We have all known the ache of a broken heart, the sting of failure, the long shadow of grief. However, the hope found in Christ is different, because God offers it even to the “worst of sinners,” with a promise that when we turn to Him, He will pardon us, reconcile us, and never forsake us. In the Old Testament, the words for hope carry the meaning not of simple wishes, but of waiting with eager but patient expectation. Trusting that God will fulfill His promises precisely because of His faithful character. The angel’s announcement grounds it in historical fact. This Savior was “born this day in the city of David.” This happened on a real day, when Caesar Augustus was emperor and Quirinius was governor of Syria. It happened in a real city, a place you can visit today. Our hope is anchored in the fact that God broke into human history on a specific day, in a specific place, for a specific purpose. It is this certain and historical hope that provides the unshakable foundation for the next gift He brings.

When the heavenly host appeared, their song was strategically precise: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace…” This was not a call for a mere ceasefire or the absence of conflict. The peace they proclaimed was the deep, biblical concept of shalom which is a cosmic state of wholeness that blossoms organically from a just and righteous order. The world offers a fragile peace, dependent on treaties or fleeting goodwill, but Christ brings a peace that fundamentally reorders our reality. Because Christ tears down the barrier of sin, establishing our peace with God, a new reality dawns within us: the unshakeable peace of God that defies our circumstances. This tranquility that “surpasses all understanding,” guards our hearts and minds even when the storms of life rage around us. This reconciled peace is not passive, but it fuels the reconciliation between people. For when we are at peace with our Creator, we are empowered to become agents of His peace in a divided world. The Apostle Paul teaches that Christ Himself gives us our peace by breaking down the dividing walls of hostility between Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, right and left and continues to reconcile all people to one another in His one body. Once our relationship with God is restored through hope and peace, it naturally overflows into a profound and unshakable joy.

The angel’s message to the terrified shepherds was one of “good news of great joy.” And just like hope and peace, joy is radically different from worldly happiness. For it is not an emotion based on a personal achievement or a desire fulfilled. Rather, it is rooted within a deep sense of safety and freedom sourced from God’s loving and unchanging presence, thus this joy can even be experienced in the midst of sorrow. The angel announced this joy to the shepherds, but Mary poured out her joy to all of us through her song, the Magnificat, which reveals the anatomy of joy. She begins with, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.” Thus Mary teaches us that joy flows from God-magnification. It begins with a posture of humility, which is an honest recognition of our own spiritual poverty, and dependence on God. The source of joy is not in what we have, but in Who has us. It is the joy of knowing God, and of being loved by Him, because we realize that through Jesus our sins have been forgiven. This is why the Apostle Paul could speak of being “sorrowful yet always rejoicing,” because this joy runs deeper than pain. It is a current of gladness that flows from the very heart of God, a heart that is, in its essence, selfless and perfect love.

Thus the greatest of the Advent gifts is God’s demonstrated love through The Incarnation, where God becomes flesh and dwells among us, becoming the supreme manifestation of God’s love. This gift is not just one of God’s attributes but exists as His very essence. The Apostle John states that God is love. Which ultimately is revealed in Christ, is a promised love because the Gospel was not a divine afterthought, because it was promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, and rooted in the ancient covenant God made with David. The baby in the manger is the fulfillment of a love story centuries in the making. Additionally, it is a powerful love, because it has the power to fundamentally change our identity. In the heart of the Roman empire, which defined people by status and power, believers were given a new name, saints. In a world that defines us by our performance and our failures, this love bestows upon us a new identity rooted not in what we do, but in whose we are. It is a love that silences the accuser and grounds our worth in the unshakeable affection of our Creator. Finally, it is a pervasive love. The Gospel was designed to break down every barrier. Paul’s mission was “to call all the Gentiles,” a living testament that God’s love knows no boundaries of ethnicity, culture, or geography. This gift is for “all people.” Our ability to love, therefore, is not something we conjure up on our own. It is always a response. As 1 John 4:19 reminds us, “We love because he first loved us.” Having received and become witnesses to these incredible gifts, God calls upon us to respond to the grace with obedience rooted in faith.

We are now commissioned to be His witnesses. This is not an optional extra for the spiritually elite; it is the natural, necessary, and joyful response to a genuine encounter with the living God. To receive these gifts is to be charged with sharing them. For this sacred task, God gives us a perfect model within the Christmas story in Luke 2. The shepherds model an active and urgent witness. After hearing the angelic announcement, they did not debate or delay. They said, “Let us go,” and they “came in a hurry.” And after they had seen the child, they “made known the message” to everyone they could. Let us not forget who these people were as they were social outcasts, despised by respectable society, whose testimony was not even admissible in a court of law. And yet, God entrusted His most important news bulletin to them first, proving forever that He gives His message to the humble. They received the message of God from the quiet fields of Bethlehem and carried to the world a firsthand witness to the very heart of God. We have received the gifts of Hope, an anchor in the darkness; Peace, the wholeness of God’s presence; Joy, the song of a humble heart; and Love, the very essence of our Creator. With these gifts come our sacred task, which is to be witnesses to what we have received, seen, and heard, just as the first witnesses responded. The angels filled the sky with a song: “Glory to God in the highest.” And the shepherds, after seeing the child, returned to their fields “glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen.” The first Christmas was not a silent night, but rather it was a night filled with praise, so we cannot go out keeping to ourselves about what we encounter in silence, but we can join the heavenly chorus. Our hearts, once cluttered by the noise of the season, are now tuned to the song of heaven. We enter into a waiting and weary world, carrying the light of Christ and singing His praises. Let us become living echoes of that good news of great joy. In the words of the song of old, Go, Tell It on the Mountain, that Jesus Christ is born!

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Love To The Whole World

Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith for the sake of his name among all the nations, including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,

To all those in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Romans 1:1-7.

While love is a powerful emotion that shapes our art and culture, it is often most palpably felt in the anticipation of a reunion, an excitement that seemingly cannot be contained. We are all familiar with the emotional resonance of viral videos showing soldiers returning from deployment or loved ones reuniting after long absences, and advertisers frequently capitalize on this sentiment during the Christmas season to suggest their products can complete these connections. However, Advent allows us to anticipate an enduring love found in Christ Jesus, a love that is not merely emotional manipulation but a transformative force that turns the world from an opponent of God into the very mission field Christ came to save. In the opening verses of Romans, the Apostle Paul offers a formal introduction and a theological handshake to a church he has never met to establish the foundation of the faith. In this opening, Paul unpacks a revolutionary love that is not fleeting or sentimental but is distinctively promised, powerful, and pervasive.

In a world captivated by fleeting trends and novel ideas, Paul begins by strategically grounding our faith in an ancient promise rather than a new philosophy. He insists that this love was not a divine afterthought but is deeply rooted in the Holy Scriptures, connecting Jesus directly to the Messianic prophecies of the Old Testament. Paul identifies Jesus as a descendant of David “according to the flesh” (kata sarka), a phrase that underscores Christ’s genuine human nature and validates the covenant found in 2 Samuel. This connection is theologically indispensable because it fulfills the prophecy of Micah, who foretold that a ruler would emerge from Bethlehem, a village explicitly called too little to be among the clans of Judah. By affirming Jesus as the seed of David, Paul validates His claim as the rightful Messiah and King. This doctrine of the Incarnation signifies that God’s love is not an abstract force but a tangible reality with a human lineage. Our hope is therefore not based on volatile feelings but on the unwavering faithfulness of a God who kept His word to send a King from an overlooked town, verifying that He works through humility to fulfill His historical promises.

Beyond its historical roots, this divine affection carries a transformative power that redefines human identity in radical ways. Paul introduces himself as a doulos of Christ, which translates to “bond-slave.” This term shattered the Roman ideal of the free citizen, as it was the most abject term used to denote a slave and represented the antithesis of honor, power, and significance. It signified a will completely swallowed up in the will of a master. He then further overturns the world’s hierarchy by addressing the believers in Rome as saints. Unlike the modern conception of a spiritual superstar, the Greek term hagios refers to all believers who are set apart by God, not because of heroic virtue or achievement, but simply because of God’s call. For a small, insignificant community living under the shadow of the eventual persecution of Nero, being called beloved by God was a defiant cry of hope. It declared that their true identity and security rested not in the emperor’s favor but in their unshakeable standing as God’s children. This is a truth Jesus Himself prayed for when He asked that the world would know the Father loves the disciples just as He loves the Son.

Continuing the mission, this love is inherently pervasive and intended to break down barriers to reach all of humanity. Paul’s greeting of grace and peace is a paradigm-shifting summary of the Gospel that fuses the Greek charis with the Jewish shalom. This blessing signals that the Gospel is universal and designed to dismantle the wall between Jew and Gentile. The mission is explicitly for all the nations, and Paul includes his Roman audience in this global mission by affirming that they are living proof of the Gospel’s reach. This universal offer requires a responsive hearing, or the obedience that comes from faith. It is not a demand for legalistic works to earn favor but a natural response of trust to the good news that God’s love knows no boundaries as it reaches every nation and person regardless of their background.

Ultimately, the opening greeting of Romans establishes the Gospel not merely as a set of doctrines but as the active power of God that fundamentally changes who we are, transforming those who were once enemies into beloved children and captives of sin into willing slaves for Christ. As we navigate the Advent season, we see that the baby in the manger is the fulfillment of this grand story. He is the Promised King of David’s line, the Powerful Son of God, and the source of Pervasive grace for all nations, in whom there is no longer Jew or Gentile. This reality offers us more than the temporary emotional high of a commercialized holiday; it fills the one waiting with a determination to overcome any current circumstance because we understand the love God has for us. Therefore, let us respond to this love not with mere sentiment but with the surrender of responsive hearing, becoming agents of grace and peace in a divided world that desperately needs to know there is a love strong enough to heal its deepest divisions.

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Joy Through Humility

46 And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, 47  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48  for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49  for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50  And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51  He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; 52  he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; 53  he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. 54  He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55  as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 1:46–55.

Music and poetry have long served as vehicles to reveal the hidden depths of the human heart, using melody and lyric to convey emotions that mere prose cannot capture. While genres like country and folk are often credited with emotional storytelling, worship music holds a distinct purpose: it is written not only to invoke an emotional connection with the Almighty but to lay the believer bare in humility before Him. During Advent, we look to the song of Mary known as the Magnificat as the ultimate expression of this posture. To understand her song, one must first understand the singer. Mary was not a queen safe in a palace, but a poor teenager from an obscure village, marginalized by the mighty Roman Empire and facing a potentially life-threatening scandal. She was pregnant, unmarried, and powerless, possessing a story the world would likely dismiss or disgrace. Yet, in the face of fear and rigid social codes, Mary chose to sing a radical anthem of joy. This joy was not a result of her circumstances, but a theological outpouring allergic to pride; it was the joy that comes when one steps back to admire all that God has brought through Christ Jesus.

This radical joy is rooted in a profound humility that seeks to magnify God rather than the self. When Mary declares, “My soul magnifies the Lord,” (Luke 1:46), she does not mean she is making God larger, as He is already infinite, but rather that she is extolling Him to make His greatness visible and clear to others. Just as a magnifying glass makes an object clearer to an observer, Mary’s humble life becomes the lens through which the world sees God. This praise is structurally and thematically parallel to the song of Hannah in 1 Samuel, revealing that Mary’s mind was saturated in the Scriptures. She weaves together concepts from the Psalms, Isaiah, and the Torah, placing her own story within the continuum of Israel’s history. In a modern culture obsessed with self-magnification and brand-building, Mary invites us to a counter-cultural shift: honestly acknowledging our spiritual poverty and finding gladness in our absolute dependence on God. It is this posture of humility that serves as the fertile ground for the revolution of God’s kingdom.

The content of Mary’s praise provides a rich articulation of God’s character, celebrating Him as Savior, Mighty, Holy, Merciful, and Faithful. Her declaration identifies the “Mighty One” as the God of the Exodus who performs great miracles, now demonstrated through the virgin conception. She recognizes that His holiness is what necessitates salvation, and His mercy is the active faithfulness extended to those who fear Him with the utmost reverence and awe. Crucially, Mary anchors the birth of Jesus in the ancient, unconditional covenant God made with Abraham, understanding that the Incarnation is not an isolated miracle but the fulfillment of a redemptive plan for the entire world. By connecting her personal experience to Abraham, Mary transcends her own moment in history, offering a timeless assurance that God remembers His mercy. Thus, the song is not an abstract expression; instead, it demonstrates that God is faithful across generations and that His character is the foundation of all hope.

Through the Magnificat, God’s nature is revealed to have radical, concrete consequences for the world’s social and political order. Mary operates as a prophet, delivering a message promoting and unveiling a significant reversal that reorders values where the powerful are brought down, and the lowly are lifted up. She speaks of these revolutionary acts in the past tense, “He has scattered… He has put down,” even though it appears that the proud still sat on their thrones. With the eyes of faith, Mary sees that God’s choice of a poor maiden from Nazareth is the decisive invasion of history; the victory is guaranteed because the King is already in her womb. For the marginalized, this is an anthem of liberation, but for the comfortable, it is a challenge to find freedom not in status, but in joining God’s work. The Incarnation signals that the world is being turned right-side up, acting as an earthquake at dawn that shatters human schemes and establishes a kingdom operating on principles opposite to the world.

Mary’s song serves as the enduring template for Christian worship and leadership. It challenges us to move beyond a superficial Christmas spirit and embrace the call from Mary’s song: to lead from humility, actively pursue justice for the oppressed, and rely on God’s faithfulness. True worship requires our joy to be made complete by removing pride and focusing entirely on the character and actions of God. This Advent, we are called to reject the joy of cozy nostalgia and instead practice the revolutionary joy Mary proclaimed. We must consciously shift our focus away from ourselves, finding practical ways to “exalt the lowly” through charity and advocacy, and anchoring our hearts in the promises of Scripture. By doing so, we participate in the holy disruption of the gospel, testifying that God is indeed saving His people just as He promised.

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Bring Peace To Our World

1  Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to the royal son! 

2  May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice! 

3  Let the mountains bear prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness! 

4  May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the children of the needy, and crush the oppressor! 

5  May they fear you while the sun endures, and as long as the moon, throughout all generations! 

6  May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth! 

7  In his days may the righteous flourish, and peace abound, till the moon be no more!

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 72:1–7.

In a world defined by conflict and division, the peace we often witness is nothing more than a fragile, temporary truce maintained by negotiation or a delicate balance of power. However, the season of Advent invites us to look beyond these secular versions of stability toward the deep, holistic peace promised in Scripture: shalom. Unlike a mere cessation of hostilities, shalom represents comprehensive well-being, wholeness, and universal flourishing. While King Solomon, whose very name, Shlomo, means “peace,” enjoyed a reign that extended from the Euphrates to the border of Egypt, even his dominion was ultimately marred by human failure. No earthly leader can perfectly sustain the lofty ideals of peace; thus, the genuine peace we await in Advent is not a passive state achieved by human hands, but a dynamic reality founded on divine justice and destined for universal dominion under Christ the King.

This biblical peace is not an abstract concept but the direct outflow of justice and righteousness. Psalm 72 establishes a non-negotiable theological sequence: true shalom can only exist when it is built upon the foundation of righteousness and justice. In the Hebrew imagination, righteousness is the ethical blueprint of God’s character, while justice is the active application of that standard to correct wrongs and restore community order. When a ruler governs according to these divine attributes, the result is a flourishing that permeates all of creation, where even the “mountains will bring peace to the people.” This imagery teaches us that shalom is not a man-made compromise, but a cosmic state of wholeness that blossoms organically from a rightly ordered society.

Furthermore, the credibility of this peace is measured by its impact on the most vulnerable members of society. The job description of the Just King is focused entirely on his unwavering commitment to the powerless, making the defense of the needy the engine of true peacemaking. Crime and oppression are not merely violations of abstract laws but violations of people; therefore, the King’s justice is restorative, seeking to rescue the victim and repair the harm done. By intervening on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves and reversing their powerlessness, the King provides the “truth-telling” necessary for healing. Consequently, our participation in Advent peace must move beyond sentimentality to the humble, determined work of intervention and advocacy for the downtrodden.

The hope we embrace during Advent is also global in scope, envisioning a transformation that reorders the entire world. The King’s influence is described as life-giving, descending “like rain upon the mown grass” to bring renewal to the earth. This justice is generative rather than zero-sum; it creates an environment where abundance and life flourish, symbolized by grain growing even on the tops of mountains. This vision of global submission is a missional mandate, inviting believers to participate in the expansion of the King’s reign. By supporting global missions and serving the needs of others, we bring tribute to our King, ensuring that His peaceful dominion extends to the farthest reaches of the earth.

Ultimately, true shalom is not a product of human compromise but the fruit of divine justice established by Christ. The recurring failures of earthly political systems serve as a reminder that our ultimate hope cannot rest in human hands but must be fixed steadfastly on the return of Jesus Christ, the only King possessing the perfect righteousness required to fulfill these promises. Yet, while we wait, we are called to reflect His character as agents of peace in a broken world. This Advent, by committing to defend the cause of the poor and championing laws that protect the vulnerable, we not only honor our King but offer the world a tangible foretaste of the eternal shalom that will define His coming reign.