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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.

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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.

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Hope In The Unexpected

36 “But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. 37 For as were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day when Noah entered the ark, 39 and they were unaware until the flood came and swept them all away, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Then two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. 41 Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left. 42 Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43 But know this, that if the master of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Mt 24:36–44.

The season of Advent serves as a time of profound anticipation where the Church looks back to the manger and forward to the second coming of Jesus. While many believers have been shaped by popular culture to view this future hope as an evacuation from a doomed world, Scripture paints a different picture. We are not waiting for a secret departure but for the parousia, a technical term denoting the official arrival of a king to transform his city and begin his reign. Our hope is grounded in a royal arrival rather than a rescue mission that abandons creation.

This distinction becomes clear when we carefully examine Matthew 24 and strip away the influence of modern novels and movies. Jesus explicitly compares His return to the days of Noah, where the unrighteous were unaware until the flood came and swept them all away. In this biblical parallel, being taken corresponds to judgment and removal, just as the flood waters removed the wicked. Conversely, Noah and his family were the ones left behind on the earth to inherit the new era, meaning that those who remain are actually the blessed ones preserved for salvation.

This interpretation is reinforced by the consistent pattern of judgment found throughout the Gospel of Matthew. In the parables of the wheat and the tares, the dragnet, and the sheep and the goats, it is always the unrighteous who are first removed from the kingdom to face judgment. The wheat, the good fish, and the sheep remain to inherit what the Father has prepared for them. Even in the parallel passage in Luke, Jesus clarifies that those who are taken are brought to a place of judgment where vultures gather, further confirming that the removal is a somber fate rather than a joyful escape.

Recognizing this truth shifts our theological framework from a desire for spiritual escape to a robust hope in the restoration of all things. The biblical vision is not about discarding the cosmos but about the renewal of heaven and earth under the lordship of Christ. This perspective aligns with the “new creation” model, which expects God to purify and perfect the physical world rather than destroy it. Such a hope encourages us to value the earth and our physical existence as part of God’s redemptive plan.

Therefore, our Advent waiting must be characterized by active stewardship rather than passive idleness. The parables of the ten virgins and the talents instruct us to remain faithful and productive, investing our lives in the work of the Gospel while we await our Master. We do not look for a secret exit but stand ready to welcome King Jesus when He returns to cleanse His creation. We wait with the confident hope that we will be the ones left behind to inhabit the renewed earth and dwell with Him forever.

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Coming To The Table With Thanksgiving

100 A Psalm for giving thanks. 1  Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! 2  Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! 3  Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. 4  Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! 5  For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 100:title–5.

Many families have a myriad of traditions that they carry out during the Thanksgiving holiday here in the US. Most will cook some sort of poultry and have a number of sides, all gathering around the table for a meal. The people around that table might be family, friends, or in some cases complete strangers. There are a good number of people that carry out traditions that have survived through many generations. One of the great traditions that many partake in is volunteering at food kitchens every year, or that if there is anyone that needs a home for dinner most families will make an extra space for anyone that is not going to be near their family. Thanksgiving often brings the best out of many of us, and it is rooted within the sense that no matter what has happened we can find a spirit of thanksgiving for the blessings that we have experienced. This spirit of Thanksgiving has a long tradition within the worshipping community. It is with a sense of Thanksgiving that we are called to come to worship, and a sense of thanksgiving that reminds followers to lean upon God in all things. For the table of thanksgiving that we approach in worship has been set before us, and we are called to simply come. Just like at many a Thanksgiving table, the table that we approach with worship is open to anyone and everyone to experience the blessings of God.

For at the core of our worship lies the understanding that we are creatures made by a loving God, a truth that grounds our emotions in theological reality. Therefore, true worship must be cognitive to be effective; knowing that “the LORD, He is God” ensures that our right feelings are the goal of right thinking. This acknowledgment that God created us, and not of our own creative endeavors that establishes our existence as a created reality, thus shattering our self-realized pride while simultaneously affirming our value through the lens of redemption. We are not merely universal creatures but distinctively belong to the Creator and we are “the sheep of His pasture,” a metaphor that transitions our understanding from a distant Creator to an immanent Shepherd who offers sovereign care. Consequently, our worship is an inevitable, grateful response of a flock that recognizes the voice of the One who guides, protects, and provides.

This internal meditation on God’s character as Creator and Covenant Lord naturally propels us toward prescriptive, external action, for a heart filled with gratitude that cannot remain passive. The psalm commands us to “make a joyful shout”, a public, triumphant acclamation of God’s sovereignty that rejects private, quiet faith in favor of an external loud declaration. We are further instructed to “serve with gladness,” a directive that fuses submission to the Almighty with delighting in His goodness, thereby discarding reluctant legalism and affirming that a redeemed heart finds its highest pleasure in obedience. Finally, the summons to “enter” His gates marks the necessity of corporate, gathered worship, calling the covenant community out of their scattered lives to assemble in a consecrated space for the primary purpose of communal praise. Thus worship requires a multi-faceted understanding that we are a greater part of the plan of the Creation, and are not mere witnesses, but participants in worship.

Ultimately, this structure of worship serves as a dynamic pattern of covenant renewal that transforms both the worshiper and the surrounding community. Recognizing that our dignity is derived from God acts as a powerful antidote to both arrogance and despair; it declares that while the image of God in humanity may be defaced by sin, it is not eliminated, thus demanding that every person be treated with incalculable worth. While our culture is often dominated by criticism, this insistent call to joy serves as a counter-cultural protest song, redirecting our focus from fallible earthly powers to the one true King. Thus, our corporate gathering becomes the LORD’s service, a holy encounter where God meets with, serves, and renews His people, empowering us to bring transformation to the very geography where we worship.

For at its core worship and approaching God’s table begins with an understanding that we must be thankful for all the blessings God has bestowed upon us, including our very lives. That which outpours from that is pure and blessed worship that is prescriptive and life giving, which flows out of us as an active outpouring of grace, not just watching, but living out our thanksgiving. This in turn becomes action where we become those that bring a blessing to the poor, sharing the Gospel through our voices and our actions. The fact that our generosity comes out most when we celebrate Thanksgiving is no mistake, because it is when we take a thankful mindset we also put on the Gospel for the world to see and experience. This giving renews our community and cannot only happen during the holiday season but must be a focus and an outpouring of worship inside and outside the church. As we approach our Thanksgiving tables this week, we must remember that God calls us to giving thanks for all that the Almighty has done, and through our worship: meditating on God’s goodness, joyfully exalting, serving, and coming together we are able to glorify God and share with our world all that we have received and share with others the grace of the Gospel.

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Coming To The Table: With Purpose

6 Now we command you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you keep away from any brother who is walking in idleness and not in accord with the tradition that you received from us. 7 For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, because we were not idle when we were with you, 8 nor did we eat anyone’s bread without paying for it, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you. 9 It was not because we do not have that right, but to give you in ourselves an example to imitate. 10 For even when we were with you, we would give you this command: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. 11 For we hear that some among you walk in idleness, not busy at work, but busybodies. 12 Now such persons we command and encourage in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. 13 As for you, brothers, do not grow weary in doing good.

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), 2 Th 3:6–13.

The main reason many people dread group projects in school is the inevitable imbalance of effort; frequently, a minority of the students do the majority of the work while everyone receives the same grade. This dynamic breeds resentment, as the engaged student works tirelessly to ensure the team succeeds, while the disengaged student contributes nothing yet reaps the benefits. A similar tension was plaguing the church in Thessalonica, where some members were laboring for the community while others neglected their duties, perhaps assuming there was no point in working. Just as in a classroom, this disparity created deep fissures within the congregation. The hardworking members grew resentful, and the idlers, rather than helping, began criticizing those who were actually upholding the message of Christ. As we examine Paul’s message, we are forced to look within our own congregations and ask if we are allowing a similar division between active workers and passive recipients to damage our witness to the outside world.

The call of the Gospel is a call to participation, not spectatorship, because God’s work is never truly finished. In Thessalonica, the problem wasn’t a lack of opportunity or physical inability, but a willful unwillingness to work, likely stemming from a misguided belief that Christ’s imminent return made daily labor unnecessary. This mirrors a common issue in modern churches where a minority of the congregation often shoulders the majority of the service and financial giving. Paul warns against this consumerist mindset, urging the entire body to contribute to the good of the community. He didn’t just preach this; he lived it, inviting them to imitate his own refusal to be a burden. By working with his own hands, Paul moved his teaching from abstract theory to concrete reality, standing in sharp contrast to the destructive influence of those who had abandoned their responsibilities to live off the generosity of others.

There is a profound danger when idleness transforms into destructiveness; those who aren’t working for the common good often find time to complain about how things are done. Paul uses a clever play on words in the Greek, mēden ergazomenous alla periergazomenous, to describe these people not as busy workers, but as “busybodies” who mind everyone’s business but their own. Instead of contributing, they meddle, stirring up division and gossip that distracts leaders from the actual work of the Gospel. This unruly behavior is scandalous for those professing Christianity because it actively harms the church’s reputation among outsiders. Recognizing that such conduct is not in accord with the Gospel, Paul issues a strong command to withdraw from those walking in this disorderly manner, not to be cruel, but to protect the integrity of the work and prevent the disruption from spreading.

However, the goal of addressing this disorder is always redemptive; the intent is not to treat the offender as an enemy, but to admonish them as a brother to bring about restoration. While the topic of discipline is often uncomfortable in the modern church, a healthy community must know how to lovingly correct those who go astray so that the faithful do not grow weary in doing good. Ultimately, our faith is not an abstract belief but is demonstrated through practical, everyday diligence. By fulfilling our duties with integrity and refusing to cut corners, we offer a powerful visible witness to the world. We are called to persevere without becoming cynical, ensuring that when we do encounter irresponsibility, we respond with a spirit of love that seeks to lift others back up into the productive life of the Body of Christ.

Ultimately, we cannot allow division, whether from idleness or meddling, to rise within the church and compromise our mission. The tension between the few who work tirelessly and those who do little but complain is a distraction from our primary purpose. As Paul reminded the Thessalonians, our main calling is to share the Gospel with the world. While his original audience was sidetracked by a misunderstanding of eschatology, we face the same core issues today; people still twist scripture or embrace apathy to justify their own passivity. We must reject the notion that the church’s work is only for a minority. By refusing to be mere spectators and instead using our voices and hands to bring glory to God, we can break free from these distractions, embrace the grace of Jesus, and faithfully work to bring His message of good news to the darkest of places.