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Safety vs. Secrecy: Safety is stewardship; secrecy is corrosion. If my locks keep burglars out, they serve wisdom. If they keep my church family away, they choke fellowship. Boundaries vs. Barricades: Healthy boundaries allow life to flourish; barricades preve

The Truth That Refuses to Disappear “Hear the word of the LORD, O children of Israel, for the LORD has a controversy with the inhabitants...

In a distracted age, attention is worship. Learn biblical practices to fix your eyes on Jesus, unite your heart, and resist algorithmic formation.

This is my first flip book. In John 17, we overhear Jesus praying not only for His disciples, but for us. He prays that we would be kept in the Father’s name, sanctified in the truth, unified in love, and brought home to see His glory. His words are not distant—they are personal, reaching across centuries to hold you today.

Culture tells us that meaning and success look like wealth, security, status, and legacy. But those markers are often built on flawed premises—metrics that measure acclaim, not eternal value.

Here is a paradox: while man sacrifices children to gain freedom, God sacrificed His Son to give freedom. At the Cross, Jesus took on

Irony is God’s highlighter, circling the cracks in our stories until we cannot ignore them. From Athens to the Cross, from fine-tuned physics to dopamine’s traps, every contradiction whispers the same truth: God is speaking through reversals, and change is waiting on the other side.

Culpability is where responsibility collides with guilt—the moment ownership costs something because it tells the truth about us.

Control wears many disguises. Sometimes it is loud, demanding, unyielding. Other times, it creeps in quietly, hidden in tones of sarcasm or the whisper of a passive-aggressive remark. But the intent is the same: to bend people and circumstances toward our will.

Weakness Transformed “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9 The Quiet...

The world says keep up—Jesus says come. One leaves you breathless at a hollow finish line; the other anchors you in eternal rest.

Think about it. We now live in a world where we can get the gist of almost anything in seconds. Want to know the news? There’s a headline for that.

The world keeps chanting, “You are what you achieve.” Jesus breaks through with a better word: “Come to me, and I will give you rest.”

Fruitless soil cannot save us. Time is mist. The Gardener kneels in mercy, digging deep, calling us to repent, to abide, to bear fruit. The cross has broken the ground—life is planted. The question is not if Christ is working, but if you will yield before the ax is laid to the root.

Exaltation is one of the most sought-after treasures on the wide road. People strive to be noticed, to be validated, to be admired. Yet in the Kingdom, exaltation is never grabbed — it is given.

The crown in Christ’s Kingdom is not seized from others but formed in the dust of service. On the narrow road, to reign is not to rise higher but to stoop lower.

To be strong, you must be weak.

Dust can name you. Labels stick like roadside posters—competitor, parent, failure, influencer—until the mirror fragments. One eye sees applause, the other embarrassment; the heart keeps asking, Who am I when no one is clapping? We scroll and post, editing the highlight reel, but by sundown each crafted identity feels stale.

A rope reminds us that connection is not automatic. It must be held. It must be trusted. So it is with the rope that binds humanity to the Father. This rope is no invention of ours. It is Christ Himself who anchors it above. “For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 2:5, ESV).

Life without Jesus is like a silent film: the images may flicker, but the voice, the music, the meaning are gone. Without Him, our days are busy yet hollow, shadows without substance. But with Him, the silence breaks—eternity sings, identity is restored, and every fragment of life gains purpose.