Psalm 12:8 closes David’s brief but blazing lament with a stark picture: wickedness isn’t merely present—it’s applauded. Across the psalm, David grieves a culture where truth evaporates, flattery thrives, and the faithful seem to vanish (vv. 1–2). The climax: when disgrace is lifted up, the wicked roam freely. It’s a sobering diagnosis of any age—ours included.
The Christian life is not merely a journey of external obedience—it’s a spiritual war between two natures. Paul writes in Galatians 5:17, “For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other…” This internal contradiction is not symbolic—it’s real, daily, and often painful. The flesh doesn’t passively resist the Spirit; it actively hates what the Spirit does.
The opening verses of John’s Gospel are unlike any other. Instead of beginning with a genealogy (like Matthew and Luke) or a fast-paced introduction to Jesus’ ministry (like Mark), John begins with eternity itself.
In a world where autonomy is idolized and self-determination is celebrated, the idea that God has the final authority—not just over creation but over eternal destiny—feels uncomfortable to many. Yet Scripture consistently teaches that God is sovereign, not only in what happens but in why and how it unfolds.
In a world driven by performance and platform, Scripture quietly reminds us that true elevation doesn’t come from striving, but from skill refined in faithfulness. Proverbs 22:29 is not simply a motivational verse—it is a divine principle rooted in both wisdom and providence. A man who is mahir—skilled, disciplined, and sharp in his work—will not remain in obscurity forever. God honors excellence and often uses it as a means to advance His purposes in the world.
It starts subtly. A sermon on helping the poor. A ministry focused on feeding the hungry. A leadership meeting centered around community outreach goals. All good things. But over time, without realizing it, the message begins to shift—from Christ crucified to Christ-inspired causes. Before long, the Gospel sounds less like the declaration of Jesus’ finished work and more like a call to social improvement.
Romans 8:29–30 The Apostle Paul, under the weight of divine revelation, pens one of the most awe-inspiring truths in Romans 8:29–30—a truth often referred to as the golden chain of redemption. “For those whom He foreknew He also predestined… called… justified… glorified.”
As riots break out in Los Angeles, and chaos spreads across Western streets, many are asking: What is happening to our world? The images are raw—burning businesses, broken windows, unchecked violence, and the unraveling of basic societal order.
As Yeshua stood in the Garden of Gethsemane, the weight of the cross looming, a mob approached with swords and torches. Peter, full of zeal and loyalty, drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear. But Jesus rebuked him—not because He feared the mob, but because He surrendered to a greater purpose.
The Gospel is not about what we do; it’s about what Jesus has done. Acts of service, feeding the poor, and pursuing justice are expressions that can extend from the Gospel’s transformative power, but they are not its essence. The Gospel is the good news that “Messiah died for our sins according to the Scriptures… He was buried, and He was raised on the third day” (1 Corinthians 15:3–4, TLV), “and offers eternal life to all who believe” (John 3:16).
