"Mind the gap."

British trains broadcast this recorded warning to passengers about to board, reminding them to avoid stumbling into the space between the station platform and the train.

The Bible explains how this one act of sacrificial love built a beautiful bridge over that infinitely large gap between you and your Creator.

But there’s a much bigger gap — a bottomless chasm of a gap — that we also desperately need to mind.

It’s the gap between us and the wholly holy God who made us.

I know. You don’t believe in a “sky daddy.” Or you do, but you prefer to avoid thinking about the ramifications of being a creation and not the Creator.

Either way, you know that you’re broken. Perhaps you rationalize your unhappiness by telling yourself the fiction that we are all just random bits of tissue, evolved from primordial ooze.

But telling yourself there is no meaning to life does not mean there is no meaning to life. You’ve just not grasped it yet.

And you can’t. Not on your own.

But again, that doesn’t mean the answers are not there. You’re just reluctant to look in the right place.

The answer you don’t want to hear

Yep, it’s the Bible. The beautiful story of who created you, and what He created you for.

Of course, you could start by just looking around — at the magnificent beauty in the world, at the unfathomable greatness of the cosmos, of the meticulously designed intricacies of the human body, of the irreducible complexity of the tiniest organism — and ask yourself honestly, is this really all random?

The people who insist that is the case are the most effective gaslighters in history. Because you’re being gaslit when someone tells you to ignore what you can plainly see with your own eyes.

And when you open your eyes to that, you have to wrestle with the existence of a Creator. And that’s when you should consider opening that Bible.

It explains how a loving, wholly holy God created people, not robots. They were and are free to choose. The first people chose wrong. Like we all would have, had we been the first. God was not surprised by this. After all, He’s God. He had a plan all along.

Why did He choose to do it this way? I don’t know. I’m not God. Neither are you.

But as He is holy and perfect and we are not, doing wrong put a permanent, uncrossable, gaping chasm between Him, the holy, and us, the unholy. We don’t have a way to reach Him.

And yet — He created us to be in relationship with Him. That’s a longing we all have, to be in relationship with our Creator, but we stifle it or tell ourselves it’s nonsense until we can’t even hear the little voice that tried to point us in the right direction.

The good news ...

And now we come to the good news, or gospel (which literally means "good news" in Greek). This part is in the Bible too, as it was, as I said, God’s plan all along.

Jesus, who is God, came to Earth. He allowed Himself to be crucified. And He rose again, as was witnessed by hundreds of people. He is alive now. He is still God.

The Bible explains how this one act of sacrificial love built a beautiful bridge over that infinitely large gap between you and your Creator. Your broken relationship with God has been permanently repaired.

So all that’s required to mind the gap is to access that beautiful bridge.

And that’s really quite simple. The Bible shows us the path, countless times.

In Acts 16, we’re told that the authorities had jailed the apostle Paul and his companion Silas for preaching that gospel, and God miraculously caused an earthquake to break open the jail doors and unshackle the prisoners. The jailer awoke, saw the open prison doors, and drew a sword to kill himself, believing his two prisoners had escaped. But Paul yelled to him that they were still there. The jailer rushed in: “And trembling with fear he fell down before Paul and Silas, and after he brought them out, he said, 'Sirs, what must I do to be saved?' And they said, 'Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved'” (Act 16:29-31).

Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved. That’s it. Faith in Jesus as Lord means you are saved from eternal separation from the Creator (hell) and rightly aligns you as who you were created to be.

Simple, but rich with meaning. Note the language. We are to believe in the Lord Jesus.

... and how to take it

Consider also (boldface mine):

“For the wages of sin is death, but the gracious gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

"If you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved; for with the heart a person believes, leading to righteousness, and with the mouth he confesses, leading to salvation” (Romans 10:9-10).

Many beliefs move a person closer to God. Acknowledging that there IS a God is a start. So is acknowledging that Jesus lived, died, and even rose again. But you can intellectually come to believe the second part of that passage (believe God raised Him from the dead) without confessing Jesus as Lord — because if someone is your Lord, by definition you submit to Him.

Make no mistake, God is already in authority over you. But He doesn’t force anyone to submit to Him. As James points out, even the demons know that Jesus is God, but they don’t willingly submit to Him (James 2:19). You have been granted the same freedom to reject Him as Lord and be your own god.

Millions choose that path. But the fact is, there is only one bridge to God — that bridge forged by Christ’s loving sacrifice on the cross.

HUM Images/Getty Images

Only one way

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

“Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but through Me'” (John 14:6).

“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. For the gate is narrow and the way is constricted that leads to life, and there are few who find it” (Matthew 7:13-14).

Don’t be misled. Any path that doesn’t involve walking over this bridge will not mind the gap. It is instead a path that will leave you without God for eternity.

It’s so easy to take a wrong turn. That’s why the gospel is such good news, that fulfills every need you have with a plethora of blessings.

What prizes await

When you accept the free gift offered through faith in the Lord Jesus, His grace transforms you.

And that moment of transformation is YOUR life’s pivot point. Kind of like the best Christmas morning you could ever have, because all at once you get to unwrap all these gifts:

The gift of faith, as we are granted the ability to believe the truth.

The gift of repentance, as we begin the pivot away from our old life (aka, begin to sin less).

The gift of justification, which means our accounts are settled with God. The price has been paid for every sin we have ever committed or will commit. Paid in full. Done. (Spoiler: Christians will still sin. See “sanctification” below.)

The gift of salvation, as we are welcomed into His eternal family and rescued from the domain of darkness. We are now His children.

The gift of relationship, as we are granted personal, unquestioned access to the God of the universe (in the Old Testament, only the high priest could access the “Holy of Holies” aka God; now we all can, as we are welcome to pray at any time).

The gift of the Holy Spirit within you. God comes to live in you.

The gift of sanctification, which means we will grow more and more like Him as we learn more and more of Him through His word. And the more we are like Him, the more we will burn with a desire to do for Him whatever He has gifted and called us to do. We are invited to come alongside Him and build His kingdom, which is the greatest adventure any of us could undertake.

So now you know how to access the bridge that will mind the gap, once and for all.

Whether you take that path is the most important decision of your life. God will not force you into His presence. But in His love, He has provided a simple choice you can make to live with your Creator now and for eternity.

If you choose wrong ... mind the gap, my friend.

Camp Hope offers Christ-centered healing to America’s veterans

It’s been roughly five decades since the term “post-traumatic stress disorder” emerged and gained traction, driven largely by the experiences of Vietnam War veterans. Forty-six years have passed since it became an official psychiatric diagnosis.

In that span of time, PTSD research has substantially advanced our understanding of its underlying neurobiology, led to the development of a wide range of evidence-based treatments, and significantly improved access to specialized care for traumatized individuals.

‘I want to show the VA that spends $571 million a year on suicide prevention that what we’re doing here at Camp Hope actually works.’

In other words, American vets today have access to more knowledge and resources than ever before.

And yet, some would argue that mainstream PTSD care is not treating the full person.

Chris Knight is the president of the PTSD Foundation of America — a nonprofit that takes a Christ-centered approach to helping veterans heal from combat-related trauma.

Rather than relying solely on mainstream treatments, the organization integrates professional counseling and therapy with intensive peer mentorship and a Christ-centered approach that places Jesus at the heart of the healing journey.

In a conversation that was as enlightening as it was encouraging, Chris gave me the ins and outs of the organization and shared testimonies of veterans who entered the program broken, addicted, and haunted by the horrors of their past and emerged healed, confident, and rooted in God’s grace.

A different path to healing

While the foundation provides a broad range of services — including outreach, peer support groups, advocacy, a 24/7 combat trauma helpline, and resources for veterans and families nationwide — its flagship program, Camp Hope, is where the deep transformation happens.

Camp Hope is a six-to-nine-month interim transitional housing and intensive peer-mentoring program located on a 5-acre campus in Houston, Texas. Its mission is simple but profound: Save lives by saving souls.

The program includes four progressive phases: The black phase (the first 30 days, more or less) is a strict “blackout” period with no electronics, outside distractions, or family visits, allowing veterans to focus on stabilization and daily routines. The red phase (minimum three months) emphasizes breaking old habits, emotional regulation, and trauma work. The yellow phase focuses on practical reintegration skills — vocational training, job readiness, financial literacy, and family relationships — while the optional green phase offers a supported transition back into civilian life.

The deepest reality

In these six to nine months, veterans receive the kind of comprehensive care for body, mind, and spirit that typical VA and secular PTSD programs simply can’t offer, according to Chris, because they miss the deepest reality: Only an identity rooted in Christ can truly sustain a person.

As a combat veteran with over 20 years of service, Chris intimately understands the painful challenge of shifting an identity once defined by the military to one centered on Jesus.

“The military is our life. It’s our culture. It’s ultimately our identity, and when we get out, we don’t know how to function. That’s why our identity must be placed in Christ,” he said.

This reorientation of selfhood is crucial in the healing process. While Camp Hope includes on-site psychotherapy provided by licensed mental health clinicians who specialize in trauma and addiction, these traditional counseling tools play a supporting role to the program’s core: intensive peer-to-peer mentoring.

It’s in these intimate relationships that veterans are able to fully overcome something Chris calls “moral injury” — the layered trauma that results from actions (or inaction) that violate one’s own deeply held moral beliefs and values.

He gave the following heartbreaking example:

During the Iraq War, insurgents employed a tactic where they would push women and children in front of American convoys to stop or slow the advancement, allowing for an ambush. Many American troops died because of this, so eventually a gut-wrenching decision was made: Keep driving no matter what. This put the soldiers in the driver’s seat in a moral dilemma where all paths led to violating their deepest held beliefs.

Chris explained that professional therapy and counseling are effective at addressing the psychological aspect of a moral injury, such as the one mentioned above, but to overcome the spiritual wounds, it takes the power of Christ and a healed brother who can both empathize with the pain and attest to the healing available.

“We walk them through where God was when their trauma occurred, why God allows horrible things to happen, and then through forgiveness, grace, and mercy,” Chris said. “In order for them to forgive themselves, we have to point them back to the highest power that died for us and forgives us of our darkest sins.”

Medication, counseling, and therapy only go so far, he told me, because “they don’t address the heart, which is why PTSD Foundation of America and Camp Hope are Christ-based.”

The results speak for themselves. Hundreds of combat veterans have completed the program, many of whom return to be staff members.

Here are some of their stories.

Alex Yutzey

Immediately following high school graduation, Alex joined the military, where for the next six years he served as an airborne infantryman. In that span of time, he would deploy to both Iraq and Afghanistan.

In these combat zones, Alex watched many of his brothers die. But to fulfill his sworn duties, he did what all military personnel are forced to do amid tragedy: Shove the pain down and keep moving forward.

While repression kept him alive in war, the same tactic deeply failed him in the real world. When Alex returned home, death came with him. In the years following his homecoming, he watched many more brothers die from suicide.

Emotional suppression continued to be Alex’s sole coping mechanism until one final death broke him: his grandmother’s.

Finally, the pain Alex had bottled up for years demanded to be felt, but he didn’t know how to confront such overwhelming heartache. PTSD and drug addiction defined the next several years of his life.

But Alex’s story was far from over. His wife found out about Camp Hope and relocated their family to Houston to create space for Alex to enroll in the program.

The treatment, mentorship, and hope he found completely transformed his entire life. His marriage, his future, and ultimately his life were saved.

After graduating the program, Alex stayed on at Camp Hope to be a driver. Over the next several years, he worked his way up and today serves as the director of the program, where he continues to live out his life’s mission to end veteran suicide, confront suffering in the veteran community, and guide his brothers and sisters toward healing, recovery, and a better way of life.

Nicholas Eckley

Nicholas entered the military already carrying emotional baggage from his difficult home life. For years, he walked a wayward path fueled by anger. After several bad decisions, he decided to make a drastic change and enroll himself in the United States Marine Corps.

The structure, identity, and brotherhood proved immediately beneficial. Nicholas grew from a broken young man into a courageous leader who eventually became a platoon sergeant. He led a team of men who would do anything for each other, and these bonds were life-giving.

But his deployment to Afghanistan changed things. Combat was brutal and tragic, but the worst part was that Nicholas couldn’t escape it when he came home. The memories permeated every area of his life — from his thoughts and reactions to his quality of sleep and relationships with others.

But these invisible wounds were only half of Nicholas’ suffering. He also returned from war with a physical injury from an IED blast. Like many wounded veterans, he was prescribed opioids, which led to a crippling addiction. It wasn’t long before the discipline and strength he had developed in the military gave way to isolation, frustration, and hopelessness.

His wife and children were the people who suffered the most from this change. Nicholas, unable to cope with the fact that he was hurting the people he loved most, attempted to take his own life.

This dark night of the soul, however, ultimately became the catalyst for change. He found his way to Camp Hope, bonded with other veterans who had walked similar paths, and reconnected with his faith in God.

In his testimony, Nicholas wrote, “Rebuilding my relationship with God wasn’t a single moment, it was a process. A daily decision. A willingness to surrender control and trust in something greater than myself. Through that process, I began to find peace where there had once been chaos, pain, and anger.”

Over time, Nicholas rebuilt his relationships with his wife and kids. Today, he is a proud husband, father, teacher, and coach who works with troubled students who need support, guidance, and someone who believes in them.

His testimony culminates in this powerful declaration: “I didn’t just survive what I went through. I was rebuilt because of it.”

Sam Kauahquo

Sam was 18 years old when he became a United States Marine. His two deployments to Iraq were a testament to his skill and courage. In just three years, he was awarded the Combat Action Ribbon, a Purple Heart, and received a combat meritorious mast.

He returned home proud of his accomplishments but deeply traumatized by the combat he’d experienced. His PTSD was so severe, it wrecked his life and his will to live.

He wrote, “I lost nearly everything and found myself battling suicidal thoughts that led to three attempts on my life, each one resulting in hospitalization. My darkest moment came during my final attempt, when I tried to end my life through self-asphyxiation.”

After this final suicide attempt, a fellow marine he had served with reached out and told him about Camp Hope.

Out of options, Sam enrolled in the program. Over the next several months, he found healing, purpose, and a renewed sense of direction.

By graduation, he was so radically changed that he decided to work for the PTSD Foundation of America for the next four years, helping fellow wounded veterans find the path to recovery.

Today, Sam is a husband, a father, and a college graduate who is currently building a nonprofit that integrates the game of golf with life lessons, faith, and structure to help people struggling with mental health issues.

“Camp Hope didn’t just save my life; it gave me a future. And today, I live that future with purpose, gratitude, and a commitment to helping others find their way out of the darkness with life lessons, God, and purpose,” he wrote.

A vision for the future

In our conversation, Chris painted a vivid picture of his dreams for Camp Hope. As successful as the program is, it has several limitations that he is eager to resolve.

“Camp Hope has been so successful that we’ve had to be very careful about spreading too much awareness because we only have so many spots. Our most immediate need is funding for expansion. When we have to turn a vet away, it’s just heartbreaking,” he told me.

His other vision for the future involves building transitional housing that would serve as an in-between place for veterans who have graduated the program but still need more time to transition back into everyday life.

Lastly, Chris dreams of opening Camp Hope to women. Currently, the program only serves men, but Chris is keenly aware of female combat veterans’ need for support and care.

Opening the program to women is a challenge, he admitted, because women have unique physical and psychological needs.

“Women come with children,” he said, “and because it’s difficult to find a place that accommodates children, female combat veterans will often neglect to get the care they need. Our goal is to build a facility that meets the needs of these women and their children.”

This project, he explained, will involve tailoring counseling and therapies specifically to women and their children, implementing an education system, providing child care, and building living facilities.

But Chris’ boldest vision expands far beyond the 5-acre boundaries of Camp Hope.

“Ultimately, I want to change how the nation treats trauma,” he said, “and that begins with something we call a COIN operation in the military. It means winning the hearts and minds of those we serve. I want to show the VA that spends $571 million a year on suicide prevention that what we’re doing here at Camp Hope actually works.”

In a system that continues to lose veterans every day despite allocating hundreds of millions each year, Camp Hope stands as living proof that real, lasting healing is possible when the heart is addressed along with the mind through the transforming power of Christ.

Chick-fil-A worker on why he didn't keep $10K cash left in restroom: 'That's not what Jesus would've done'

Chick-fil-A employee Jaydon Cintron told WITN-TV he was taking his break on Good Friday morning when he found two white envelopes in the men's restroom at the restaurant in Kinston, North Carolina. Kinston is about 90 minutes southeast of Raleigh.

“They were on the floor next to the toilet. My first thought was just like, ... OK, no, this isn’t happening,” Cintron told WITN. “Something is wrong.”

'Money is useless without character.'

But it was happening — and something most definitely was wrong for the person to whom the envelopes belonged.

Return to sender

You see, one envelope was labeled First Citizens Bank, and it contained $5,000; the other envelope was labeled Truist Bank, and it contained $4,333, the station said.

And how did Cintron react?

He told the station he simply picked up the envelopes and brought them to human resources.

A WITN reporter asked the 18-year-old why he didn't keep the cash for himself.

Cintron replied to the station with the following: "That's not what Jesus would've done. That's not what God would've wanted."

'True integrity'

Cintron added to WITN that his faith guides his thought process: "Money is useless without character."

Kinston Police Chief Keith Goyette told the station that "a lot of people will unfortunately take that money and run with it. But kudos to that employee at Chick-fil-A. [He] definitely deserves an award."

John McPhaul, owner of the Kinston Chick-fil-A, noted to WITN that Cintron embodies the restaurant's principles: "True leadership, true integrity is doing the right thing when no one's watching. And Jay did that in this case, and he should be commended for it."

The station said the restaurant tried to search security video in an attempt to identify the owner of the money but had no luck.

However, Chief Goyette told WITN the owner of the money came forward Monday morning to claim the $9,333.

It's own reward

Cintron revealed to the station that the owner of the money approached him and offered him a $500 reward for his good deed, but Cintron initially declined and told the man he expected no reward for what his faith told him was the right thing to do.

"I don't want anything out of this," Cintron told the station, adding, "I did this because that's what Jesus would do."

WITN noted that after declining the reward multiple times, the teenager finally accepted it — and numerous viewers agreed that Cintron deserves all the recognition he's receiving.

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Fine-tuned for life: How our one-in-a-million universe points to God

One of the remarkable scientific discoveries of the past several decades is that the universe and Earth appear fine-tuned for life.

Philosopher of science Stephen C. Meyer explains that fine-tuning “refers to the discovery that many properties of the universe fall within extremely narrow and improbable ranges that turn out to be absolutely necessary for complex forms of life ... to exist.”

Earth’s position in the solar system is in what scientists call the Goldilocks Zone, where it’s not too hot and not too cold.

It’s important to note that the term “fine-tuning” or “fine-tuned” is a neutral description that doesn’t imply the existence of God. It’s a designation routinely used by scientists and scholars of all stripes.

Although scientific findings are always provisional, it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that an incredibly powerful and intelligent being designed our universe to support life.

In what follows, we’ll look at the scientific credibility of fine-tuning, specific examples, possible explanations for it, and some objections to it. Fine-tuning is not surprising if Christianity is true, since God intended to create human and animal life (Genesis 1), but it is surprising in the case of naturalism, where it appears to be an astounding coincidence.

Believe the science

One will occasionally meet skeptics who believe fine-tuning is an idea invented by Christians but not taken seriously by scientists. This is a misconception, to say the least. Consider the following testimony:

Agnostic physicist Sir Fred Hoyle: “A common sense interpretation of the facts suggests that a super intellect has monkeyed with physics, as well as with chemistry and biology, and that there are no blind forces worth speaking about in nature.”

Atheist physicist Stephen Hawking: “The remarkable fact is that the values of these numbers seem to have been very finely adjusted to make possible the development of life.”

Agnostic physicist Paul Davies: “The entire universe is balanced on a knife-edge, and would be total chaos if any of the natural ‘constants’ were off even slightly.” “On the face of it, the universe does look as if it has been designed by an intelligent creator expressly for the purpose of spawning sentient beings.”

Atheist physicist Steven Weinberg: “Life as we know it would be impossible if any one of several physical quantities had slightly different values.”

It’s notable that cosmic fine-tuning was one of the reasons the distinguished atheist thinker Antony Flew changed his mind about God’s existence, as recounted in his 2007 book “There Is a God: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind.”

Against all odds?

Philosopher Robin Collins points out, “If the initial explosion of the big bang had differed in strength by as little as one part in 10⁶⁰[i.e., 1 followed by 60 zeros], the universe would have either quickly collapsed back on itself, or expanded too rapidly for stars to form. In either case, life would be impossible.”

This is a mind-boggling number. Collins likens this improbability to “firing a bullet at a one-inch target on the other side of the observable universe, twenty billion light years away, and hitting the target.”

He also observes that “if gravity had been stronger or weaker by one part in 10⁴⁰, then life-sustaining stars like the sun could not exist.”

If gravity were slightly stronger, stars would burn out in millions, rather than billions, of years (our sun is about 4.6 billion years old). If gravity were slightly weaker, most stars would never form at all — or would be too small and cold.

Oxford mathematician and philosopher John Lennox helps us understand this vast improbability as follows:

Cover America with coins in a column reaching to the moon (380,000 km or 236,000 miles away), then do the same for a billion other continents of the same size. Paint one coin red and put it somewhere in one of the billion piles. Blindfold a friend and ask her to pick it out. The odds are about 1 in 10⁴⁰ that she will.

A little closer to home, Earth’s position in the solar system is in what scientists call the Goldilocks Zone, where it’s not too hot and not too cold, allowing for liquid water to exist on its surface. The size of Earth also ensures that it has the right gravity to retain an atmosphere suitable for life without being too strong to inhibit the mobility of organisms.

Many other examples could be cited, but these illustrate the almost inconceivable odds against a life-permitting universe and Earth.

By design

These numbers are so surprising that they call out for an explanation, and there seem to be only three options: physical necessity, chance, or design.

Regarding physical necessity — that the universe had to have the properties that it does — there are no good reasons to believe this. As far as scientists can tell, the universe could have had a vast range of different laws, constants, and qualities.

To cite Davies again, “There is not a shred of evidence that the [parameters of our] universe [are] logically necessary. Indeed, as a theoretical physicist I find it rather easy to imagine alternative universes that are logically consistent, and therefore equal contenders for reality.”

Regarding chance, we saw earlier how incredibly unlikely it is that any possible universe would support life. When you combine the improbabilities of all the fine-tuned parameters together, the odds against life become overwhelming. The one remaining option is design. All our experience tells us that only rational agents design things, and thus a cosmic designer is the best explanation for the universe’s fine-tuning.

Multiverse muddle

Space prohibits an extended discussion of objections to fine-tuning. I’ll briefly address two that are frequently mentioned.

The first is known as the weak anthropic principle, raised by physicist Martin Rees, among others: “Some would argue that this fine-tuning of the universe, which seems so providential, is nothing to be surprised about, since we could not exist otherwise.”

Thus, we should not be surprised that the universe is fine-tuned for life, since we are here observing that it is. But as philosopher Douglas Groothuis points out, this confuses two related but distinct ideas: 1) the truism that we couldn’t observe anything unless the universe was life-permitting and 2) an explanation of why the universe is so finely tuned. Acknowledging the first observation doesn’t negate the need to explain why, against all odds, our universe is life-permitting.

Second, some thinkers appeal to the idea of a multiverse to explain fine-tuning. If billions, or even an infinite number, of other universes exist, one of those universes will inevitably permit life. We happen to be in the lucky universe that does.

God is in the details

There is no experimental evidence, however, that a multiverse exists, and some see it as an ad hoc proposal to avoid the theistic implications of fine-tuning. As physicist John Polkinghorne writes, “Let us recognize these speculations for what they are. They are not physics, but in the strictest sense, metaphysics. There is no purely scientific reason to believe in an ensemble of universes.”

While the multiverse hypothesis is complex, ad hoc, and lacks evidence, the design hypothesis is simple (one Creator) and, as noted earlier, draws on our universal experience that only minds design things.

Thus, fine-tuning provides compelling evidence that God exists and intended to create living beings. And this sounds very much like the kind of God we find described in Genesis — one who, from the beginning, “created the heavens and the earth” and declared his creation “very good” (Genesis 1:1, 31).

A version of this essay originally appeared on the Worldview Bulletin Newsletter.

How to choose godly friends

You’ve probably heard, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with." It’s catchy, but not new. Long before this became a mantra, Scripture was teaching this same truth, but with more spiritual weight.

Jesus modeled healthy, intentional friendships. He was deliberate about who he let into his inner circle. It wasn’t luck or happenstance. He chose with intention.

How often do we talk ourselves into friendships we shouldn’t have — with people we don’t even like?

Close friends can make or break you, and even more importantly, they can shape the trajectory of your life. Proverbs 13:20 goes beyond advice; it offers a clear strategy: Choose friends wisely, or risk being shaped by fools.

Science backs this up. Friendships influence career choices, health decisions, and spiritual well-being. Yet in modern society, close friendships are declining. Scholars now call it a “friendship recession.” Only 17% of Americans under 30 say they feel deeply connected to a community, according to a 2025 Harvard Kennedy School poll. In 1990, about 3% of Americans said they had no close friends; today, that number has reached double digits. Over the past three decades, meaningful, close friendships have sharply diminished.

If you want good friends who are truly in your corner, consider these key principles.

Pick friends like Jesus did: Quality over quantity

Jesus loved and ministered to countless people, but He invested deeply in only a few during his short but impactful life. He intentionally structured His relationships. The Gospels show Him teaching and healing crowds, sending out the 72 in ministry, and handpicking 12 disciples. Within that circle, He maintained an inner trio of Peter, James, and John, who witnessed pivotal historical events like the Transfiguration and the Garden of Gethsemane.

It would have been easier for Him to rub shoulders with the “frat boys” of his time — the good ol’ Pharisees. After all, they weren’t poor, lowly fishermen. The Pharisees were admired, influential, and outwardly “holy.” People wanted their approval; they regarded them as “prestigious.” I’m sure they wore fancy clothes and had the best things money could buy. But Jesus had nothing to do with them. He avoided their rotten influence, interacting only when necessary to answer their relentless, pesky questions.

Jesus didn’t chase popularity or status. He didn’t measure influence by who was “in” or who had the loudest voice in the room. Instead, he focused on people who were teachable, loyal, and aligned with His mission. His friendships were rooted in character and purpose instead of appearance or social standing. As 1 Corinthians 15:33 warns: “Do not be misled: ‘Bad company corrupts good character.’”

He surrounded Himself with people who, while imperfect, were willing to be challenged, changed, and called higher. He didn't just preach to the multitudes, He walked closely with 12, poured deeply into three, and entrusted the future of the church to them. Think of all the long walks Jesus took with His disciples. Walking on foot from places like Galilee to Jerusalem was roughly a three- to five-day commute. On these journeys, Jesus used them to teach and disciple and build meaningful relationships. Nothing went to waste.

His choice of who to do life with wasn't random; it was strategic and spiritually essential. Jesus modeled a clear principle in both friendship and kingdom-building: quality over quantity. Following Jesus’ example, we can intentionally choose friends while also becoming the kind of friend others need.

Francis G. Mayer/Getty Images

Want great friends? Start by being one

Before we can choose good friends, we must first be one. Jesus modeled the qualities of a high-caliber friend: loyalty, integrity, truthfulness, and love.

Scripture also offers examples —both good and bad. David and Jonathan embody loyalty and sacrifice. Mary and Elizabeth show a friendship rooted in faith and mutual support. Daniel and his friends strengthen one another and stand firm in conviction, even in captivity.

By contrast, Job’s friends accuse rather than comfort. Judas betrays. King Rehoboam rejects wise counsel in favor of foolish peers, dividing a kingdom.

Jonathan, though heir to the throne, chose covenant over envy in his friendship with David. Elizabeth welcomed Mary with joy rather than jealousy, despite the circumstances. Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego remained faithful under pressure, putting God above comfort, safety, and status.

These friendships share a common thread: character. They refused envy, ego, and compromise — even when justified by the world’s standards. Quality people attract quality friends.

We must cultivate these kinds of relationships, doing the inner work to become the kind of friend we hope to have.

Exercise the muscle of rejection

I’m a people person. Making friends has always come easily — but like most of us, I had to learn that not every friendship is worth keeping.

As a teenager, I desperately wanted to fit in with the “cool kids.” When I was invited to sit at their lunch table, I thought, “I’ve made it.” But after one regretful meal — filled with gossip, cruelty, and shallow conversation — I felt immediate buyer’s remorse. I didn’t go back.

Instead, I sat with my brothers and their friends — or alone. I realized that solitude is far better than compromising your character to belong. It may be lonelier, even uncomfortable, but it protects your integrity and spiritual health.

That’s what I mean by exercising the “muscle of rejection.”

How often do we talk ourselves into friendships we shouldn’t have — with people we don’t even like? Maybe they’re popular, well connected, professionally useful, or simply convenient.

But relationships built on convenience, obligation, or fear of confrontation dilute your inner circle. Over time, they shape your habits, attitudes, and decisions — often in ways you won’t notice until years later.

As my father-in-law likes to say (quoting Kenny Rogers): “Know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em.” Wisdom — and the discernment of the Holy Spirit — must guide these decisions. Not every connection is meant to last, and not every relationship deserves a front-row seat in your life.

For parents, this is even more critical. The friends we choose don’t just influence us — they shape our children’s worldview. Choosing wisely isn’t optional; it’s part of guiding the next generation.

Intentionality matters

Friends don’t show up on your doorstep; you have to put in the work. Gather people, host events, and create the opportunities you wish existed. Be the friend you wish you had. Seek relationships that are teachable, loyal, and mission-aligned. Choosing friends with discernment is not harshness; it’s stewardship. It’s about protecting your spiritual well-being, your family, and your calling. Jesus’ life shows us that strategic, purposeful friendships are not optional; they are foundational to living well and carrying out faithfulness.

Your inner circle will shape your mindset, your mission, and your life trajectory. Cultivate friendships with intention. Be ruthless. Reject the shallow and the convenient. Surround yourself with people who strengthen your faith, challenge your growth, and share your values. Exercise the muscle of rejection, and watch your life, and the lives of those around you, grow deeper and richer.

10 underrated New Testament names for your baby

The New Testament didn’t just shape Christian belief — it shaped early Christian life. And with it came a set of names that feel surprisingly modern and usable, even if most of them never made it into mainstream naming culture.

Here are 10 New Testament names worth a second look.

1. Phoebe

Romans 16:1-2

Phoebe was a deaconess in the early church and the trusted courier of Paul’s letter to the Romans — likely the first person to read and explain it.

Her name means “bright” or “radiant.” Familiar today, but often disconnected from its biblical roots.

Famous Phoebes: Phoebe Cates, Phoebe Waller-Bridge

2. Silas

Acts 15–18

Silas was a missionary companion of Paul, sharing imprisonment and persecution during the church’s earliest expansion.

Derived from Silvanus, meaning “wood” or “forest,” Silas is biblical without sounding overtly religious.

Famous Silases: Silas Robertson, Silas Marner (fictional)

3. Clement

Philippians 4:3

Mentioned briefly by Paul, Clement later becomes associated with Clement of Rome, one of the earliest Christian leaders outside Scripture.

The name means “gentle” or “merciful,” with strong early-church pedigree.

Famous Clements: Clement Attlee (British prime minister)

4. Justus

Acts 1:23; Colossians 4:11

Justus appears multiple times in the New Testament as a respected believer and associate of Paul.

Meaning “just” or “righteous,” the name is sturdy, Roman, and underused.

Famous Justuses: Justus von Liebig (chemist)

5. Junia

Romans 16:7

Junia is praised by Paul as “outstanding among the apostles,” making her one of the most intriguing figures in the early church.

Her name is Roman, elegant, and only recently rediscovered by modern readers.

Famous Junias: Mostly confined to antiquity

6. Aquila

Acts 18

Aquila, alongside his wife Priscilla, was a teacher and missionary who helped instruct Apollos.

The name means “eagle.” Strong, Roman, and distinctive.

Famous Aquilas: Aquila Kyros (composer)

7. Rhoda

Acts 12

Rhoda is the servant girl who famously forgets to open the door for Peter because she’s too excited about announcing his arrival.

Her name means “rose.” Brief appearance, lasting charm.

Famous Rhodas: Rhoda Janzen (author)

8. Apphia

Philemon

Apphia is greeted by Paul as a respected member of the church, likely a leader within her household.

Soft, domestic, and genuinely rare.

Famous Apphias: None — true deep cut

9. Tertius

Romans 16:22

Tertius is the scribe who physically wrote Paul’s letter to the Romans and signs the letter himself.

The name literally means “third.” Historically fascinating, practically bold.

Famous Tertii: Mostly confined to antiquity

10. Sosthenes (most uncommon)

Acts 18; 1 Corinthians 1:1

Sosthenes appears as a synagogue leader who later becomes a Christian associate of Paul.

The name means “of safe strength.” Impressive, ancient, and very much for the brave.

Famous Sosthenes: Almost exclusively ancient figures

See our list of 10 underrated Old Testament names here!

10 underrated Old Testament names for your baby

The Bible isn’t just the sacred source of Christian tradition — it’s also the ultimate baby-name book. While a handful of Old Testament names have stayed in steady rotation, scripture offers many others that are meaningful, dignified, and largely forgotten.

Here are 10 Old Testament names — ranked by modern familiarity — for parents who want something biblical, rooted, and just a little unexpected.

1. Amos

Book of Amos

A shepherd turned prophet, Amos delivered some of the Bible’s most direct warnings against corruption and moral complacency. His words still resonate: “Let justice roll down like waters” (Amos 5:24).

The name means “burden-bearer,” which sounds heavy until you realize that’s exactly the point. Short, serious, and literary, Amos feels timeless rather than trendy.

Famous Amoses: Amos Oz (novelist), Amos Lee (musician), Amos Alonzo Stagg (coach)

2. Asa

1 Kings 15; 2 Chronicles 14–16

Asa was a king of Judah remembered for religious reform and a sincere effort to remove idols. Scripture presents him as faithful, if imperfect.

Often translated as “healer” or “physician,” Asa is ancient, compact, and surprisingly modern to the ear.

Famous Asas: Asa Butterfield (actor), Asa Gray (botanist), Asa Hutchinson (former governor)

3. Boaz

Book of Ruth

Boaz is the upright kinsman-redeemer who marries Ruth and becomes the great-grandfather of King David. He’s portrayed as generous, attentive, and morally grounded.

The name likely means “strength.” Short, rugged, and unmistakably biblical, Boaz feels bold without being archaic.

Famous Boazes: Boaz Yakin (filmmaker), Boaz Mauda (musician)

4. Tamar

Genesis 38; Ruth 4

Tamar plays a complicated but central role in Genesis and becomes part of the lineage of King David. Her story is difficult but ultimately redemptive.

Her name means “palm tree,” a biblical symbol of resilience and endurance. Common globally, rare in the U.S.

Famous Tamars: Tamar Braxton, Tamar Novas

5. Jethro

Exodus 3; 18

Jethro was Moses’ father-in-law, a Midianite priest who famously advised Moses on delegation — saving him from burnout long before the term existed.

The name suggests abundance or overflow and carries undeniable presence. Memorable but not for the timid.

Famous Jethros: Jethro Tull (band), Jethro Burns (musician)

6. Elihu

Book of Job

Elihu is the youngest speaker in Job, stepping in when Job’s friends fall silent. He’s thoughtful, corrective, and framed as preparing the way for God’s response.

The name means “He is my God.” Distinctly biblical and rarely used today.

Famous Elihus: Elihu Root (statesman, Nobel Peace Prize laureate)

7. Obadiah

1 Kings 18; Book of Obadiah

Obadiah was a faithful official who hid prophets from Jezebel and also authored one of the Bible’s shortest prophetic books.

His name means “servant of the Lord.” Formal, weighty, and unapologetically biblical.

Famous Obadiahs: Obadiah Stane ("Iron Man," fictional but familiar)

8. Jair

Numbers 32; Judges 10

Jair served as a judge of Israel for 22 years and is remembered more for stability than spectacle — a rarity in Judges.

The name means “he enlightens.” Short, strong, and unfamiliar without being difficult.

Famous Jairs: Jair Bolsonaro (political figure)

9. Zerah

Genesis 38; Numbers 26

Zerah was the twin son of Judah and Tamar, remembered for his unusual birth, marked by a scarlet thread. His name endured through Israel’s genealogies.

Meaning “rising” or “dawning,” Zerah is poetic, compact, and ancient.

Famous Zerahs: Zerah Colburn (19th-century mathematical prodigy)

10. Huldah (most uncommon)

2 Kings 22; 2 Chronicles 34

Huldah was a prophetess consulted by King Josiah during a major religious reform — her authority unquestioned.

The name sounds ancient because it is. Deeply biblical, historically important, and virtually unused today.

Famous Huldahs: Huldah Pierce (American folk artist)

Come back tomorrow for our list of 10 underrated New Testament names!

Bernard Nathanson: Abortion architect who found mercy in Christ

Bernard Nathanson died nearly 15 years ago. His story matters now more than ever. Not because he was famous, though he was. Not because he was influential, though few Americans shaped the culture more profoundly. His story matters because it proves that no one is beyond redemption — and that truth has a way of breaking through, no matter how determined we are to suppress it.

Nathanson was born in New York to Jewish parents. He became an obstetrician and gynecologist like his father. But unlike his father, he devoted his career to ending pregnancies rather than delivering babies. At one point, he directed the Center for Reproductive and Sexual Health, then the largest abortion facility in the world. He later claimed responsibility for more than 75,000 abortions. Among them was his own child.

Our age desperately needs this kind of conversion — the courage to admit complicity and the humility to seek forgiveness.

He wasn’t merely performing abortions. In many ways, he helped build the movement that made them legal. Nathanson was among the central activists whose efforts culminated in Roe v. Wade. Today, nearly 30% of American pregnancies are unintended; about 40% of those end in abortion — roughly 1,500 to 2,500 each day, between 550,000 and 910,000 annually. Those numbers cast a long shadow over Nathanson’s legacy.

By his own account, he was an atheist. He married four times. He lived without God and, for a time, without guilt.

Then came the ultrasound.

Signs of life

In the 1970s, advances in medical imaging made it possible to view the womb in real time. For the first time, doctors could watch a living fetus during an abortion procedure. Nathanson asked a colleague who performed 15 to 20 abortions daily to record one on ultrasound. What they saw unsettled him permanently.

“Ultrasound opened up a new world,” Nathanson later wrote. “For the first time I could really see the human fetus, measure it, observe it, watch it, and indeed bond with it and love it.”

This was his first conversion — not religious, but moral. Fetal development was no longer a medical abstraction. It was human life unfolding along a continuous path. To interrupt that life became, in his words, intolerable.

He went farther. He called abortion a crime. He did not exempt himself. He knew he had not been a bystander but a central participant. The reckoning was unavoidable.

No looking away

In 1984, he directed "The Silent Scream," a film featuring ultrasound footage of an abortion in progress. It removed abstraction. What had been hidden behind euphemism became visible. The film galvanized pro-life movements worldwide because it forced viewers to see what had long been described away.

Nathanson became the abortion movement’s most formidable opponent precisely because he had once been its architect. He understood its language and its strategy. He knew how clinical terms soften moral reality. As he later admitted, statistics had been inflated and rhetoric sharpened to sway public opinion. He had helped construct the narrative.

Yet moral clarity did not bring him peace. The weight of 75,000 deaths — including his own child’s — pressed on his conscience. Ethical reversal is not the same as absolution.

In search of mercy

Through conversations with Father John McCloskey, an Opus Dei priest, Nathanson began his second conversion. This one was spiritual. In December 1996, Cardinal John O’Connor baptized him in a private Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He received confirmation and first communion that same day.

When asked why he chose Catholicism, his answer was simple: “No religion matches the special role for forgiveness that is afforded by the Catholic Church.”

That sentence reveals what ideology never could: Guilt demands more than argument. It demands mercy.

Father Gerald Murray, who preached at Nathanson’s funeral, compared him to Whittaker Chambers, the former Soviet spy who renounced communism and testified against it at immense personal cost. The comparison was deliberate. Both men had served destructive causes with conviction. Both knew their systems from the inside. And both chose to speak because silence was no longer possible.

Neither escaped consequences. Yet each chose truth over self-preservation.

Hard truth

Some readers will struggle to forgive what Nathanson did. The harm was real. It cannot be undone. But what he chose once he could no longer deny the truth also matters. The screams he confronted were silent, visible only through ultrasound. Once seen, they could not be unseen.

Our age desperately needs this kind of conversion — the courage to admit complicity and the humility to seek forgiveness. Wrongdoing is softened by clinical language. Responsibility is buried beneath justification. Technology makes victims invisible.

Nathanson’s life reminds us that seeing clearly carries a cost — but refusing to see carries a greater one.

He spent half his life destroying life and the other half defending it. Many spend their entire lives destroying life and never confront it.

Gary Cooper: Icon of stoic strength who learned how to kneel

Gary Cooper never played obnoxious, overbearing characters. He played men who weighed their words and meant them. In a trade of display, he mastered stillness. His screen presence was immense, but acting was only one part of his story — a story that led, in the end, to God.

Born Frank James Cooper in 1901, he was shaped by Montana ranch life and the reserve of English boarding schools. Before studios dressed him in costumes, life dressed him in discipline. He could ride, shoot, and stand his ground. These weren’t skills for the screen so much as habits of character.

'I am not afraid,' he said — and meant it. Of all the famous lines he spoke on screen, none carried the force of those four words.

His rise came just as Hollywood grew fond of show and swagger. The 1930s and 1940s rewarded fast talkers and flashing smiles. Actors like James Cagney, who barked and lunged through gangster films, or Errol Flynn, who fenced, flirted, and filled the frame with movement. Even romantic leads like Clark Gable leaned on charm and chatter. Movies prized motion. Dialogue came in bursts.

Quiet authority

Cooper worked the other way. In "High Noon," while other Western heroes would ride out guns blazing, his marshal waits. He listens. He walks the town. He watches the situation unfold before choosing when to act.

In "Sergeant York," his courage comes with doubt, which is why it feels believable. Alvin York begins as a hard-drinking farm boy with a taste for trouble. Faith interrupts his life, forcing him to wrestle with Scripture and conscience at the same time. When war comes, he goes only after weighing the cost. He fights to protect others and to return home to build a life.

Where others faced the camera with frantic talk and expansive gestures, Cooper stripped things down to presence and timing — long pauses; spare looks. His characters hesitated when others hurried.

Today, that strong, quiet type survives mostly as a memory. Clint Eastwood is still with us. But age has pushed him to the margins, and Hollywood no longer revolves around figures like him. The figure Cooper made famous is now more likely to be mocked than admired. His characters would be called rigid or out of date, even emotionally vacant.

Ease and appetite

That judgment says more about the present than it does about him. Cooper showed that a man proves himself not by how loudly he speaks, but by what he is willing to carry. He also learned that responsibility, without something higher to live for and answer to, becomes empty and isolating.

Although Cooper was raised Episcopalian, faith didn’t shape his early adult life. Religion was part of the scenery, not the script. Hollywood rewarded ease and appetite, and Cooper followed the flow. He drank too much. He leaned into a long pattern of adultery. Fame made temptation easy, and he rarely refused it.

His wife, Veronica “Rocky” Balfe, was a committed Catholic, as was their daughter, Maria. Their marriage entered rough water, and Cooper knew exactly why. Guilt was no longer abstract. In 1953, during a trip to Rome, he met Pope Pius XII at the Vatican. The meeting didn’t convert him on the spot, but it unsettled him. Faith stopped being a background habit and became a serious concern. He began to ask whether the life he had built could support the way he was living. The answer was no.

Back in America, Cooper grew close to Father Harold Ford, a priest the family called “Father Tough Stuff.” The nickname fit. Ford was unimpressed by movie stardom. He spoke of duty, devotion, and sacrifice, setting aside the celebrity and addressing the soul.

Washington Post/Getty Images

The strength of surrender

Cooper listened. What began as a conversation became routine. He started to pray. He returned to confession. He accepted limits where he had lived by impulse. In 1959, he formally entered the Catholic Church. There was no announcement tour. Faith entered his days quietly, through prayer and self-control.

When cancer arrived, belief stopped being optional and became essential. As illness closed in, the habits he had learned rose to the surface. He spoke of God’s will without panic and of the future without fear. There was no display in it, only resolve — the kind of courage that comes from faith in something higher. “I am not afraid,” he said — and meant it. Of all the famous lines he spoke on screen, none carried the force of those four words.

Cooper died on May 13, 1961, at the age of 60. He was buried in a Catholic cemetery in Southampton, New York, beneath a plain stone marker. His path wasn’t easy, but it reached a clear end. What began in excess finished in order.

For Christians, Cooper leaves behind a simple lesson. Faith shows itself in what a person does. You keep your word. You stay when leaving would be easier. Belief appears in conduct long before it appears in language.

He failed, corrected himself, and tried again. After running hard in the pursuit of pleasure, he stopped, knelt down, and looked upward. He defined himself by what he accepted and what he refused. Cooper is gone, but the example remains — a timely lesson from a timeless actor.

Do you follow a diluted Jesus — or the full-strength one?

One of the most revealing features of modern Christianity — across Catholic, Protestant, and nondenominational churches alike — is how Jesus is so often presented: gentle, affirming, and above all reassuring. He is described primarily as the “Prince of Peace,” a title that appears only once in scripture (Isaiah 9:6), or reduced to a generalized ethic of niceness often summarized as “Jesus is love.”

The problem is not that these ideas are false. It is that they are radically incomplete.

Jesus prays for His followers, not for the world as such. He commands love of neighbor, but He never pretends that truth and allegiance are optional.

Scripture presents God as merciful, gracious, and abundant in goodness and truth (Exodus 34:6), but the same passage insists that He “will by no means clear the guilty.” Love, in the biblical sense, is inseparable from justice.

When Jesus commands His disciples to love one another, the apostle Paul clarifies what this means: to fulfill the law and do no harm to one’s neighbor (Romans 13:8-10). Love is not affirmation of wrongdoing; it is obedience to God’s moral order.

This distinction was not always obvious to me.

Scriptural reckoning

For much of my life, I was a Christian in name only — attending church, absorbing familiar slogans, and assuming that the moral core of Christianity consisted of kindness paired with a firm prohibition against judgment or righteous anger. That changed four years ago when I began reading scripture seriously, first through a Jewish translation of the Old Testament and later through a King James Study Bible in weekly study with a close friend.

We made a simple but demanding commitment: start at Genesis and read every verse, in order, without skipping the difficult passages. We are now in Matthew 6. This approach differs sharply from curated reading plans that promise familiarity with the Bible while quietly filtering out the parts that unsettle modern sensibilities.

Reading scripture this way forces a reckoning.

Anger management

Consider Matthew 5:22, where Jesus warns against being angry with one’s brother “without cause” — a qualifying phrase absent from many modern translations. That distinction matters. Without it, the verse suggests that all anger is sinful. With it, scripture acknowledges a truth borne out repeatedly: Anger can be justifiable, but it must be governed.

Jesus Himself demonstrates this. He overturns tables in the Temple (Matthew 21:12). He rebukes religious leaders sharply. He experiences betrayal, grief, and indignation — yet never loses control. The lesson is not emotional suppression, but moral discipline.

Reading the King James Bible makes these tensions impossible to ignore. Its language is austere and elevated, but more importantly, it preserves a view of humanity that allows for courage, judgment, and resolve alongside mercy. This stands in contrast to many modern ecclesial presentations of Christ, which portray Him almost exclusively as a comforting presence whose primary concern is emotional reassurance.

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No more Mr. Nice Guy

But Jesus explicitly rejects this reduction. In Matthew 5:17-20, He states plainly that He did not come to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfill them. The New Testament does not replace the Old; it completes it. The Old Testament establishes the moral and civilizational framework. The New Testament builds the interpersonal life of faith upon it.

Jesus is eternal (John 8:58), one with the Father and the Spirit (John 14). He is not absent from the demanding and often terrifying episodes of Israel’s history. The same Christ who calls sinners to repentance is present when God judges nations, disciplines His people, and establishes His covenant through struggle and sacrifice.

This continuity matters because it exposes the weakness of a Christianity that treats faith primarily as therapy. Churches shaped around likability and marketability inevitably soften doctrine. Hard truths drive people away; reassurance fills seats. The result is a faith that speaks endlessly about peace while avoiding the cost of discipleship.

A pastor at my church recently put it well: It is better to hold a narrow theology — one that insists scripture means what it says — and to extend fellowship generously to those who submit to it, than to hold a broad theology that can be made to say anything and therefore demands nothing. Jesus prays for His followers, not for the world as such (John 17). He commands love of neighbor, but He never pretends that truth and allegiance are optional.

This is why Jesus’ own words about conflict are so often ignored. In Luke 22:36, He tells His disciples to prepare themselves, even to the point of acquiring swords. The passage is complex and easily abused, but its presence alone undermines the notion that Jesus preached passive moral disarmament. Scripture consistently portrays a God who calls His people to vigilance, readiness, and courage — spiritual first, but never abstracted from the real world.

Cross before comfort

Many of Jesus’ parables involve kings, landowners, or rulers — figures of authority, stewardship, and judgment. The Parable of the Ten Minas in Luke 19 is especially unsettling. There Jesus depicts a king rejected by his people, fully aware of their hatred, and describes the fate rebellion would merit if this were a worldly kingdom. The point is not to license violence, but to make unmistakably clear that rejection of Christ is not morally neutral.

Modern Christianity often flinches at this clarity. It prefers a Jesus who reassures rather than commands, who affirms rather than judges. But scripture presents something sterner and more demanding. Jesus does not seek universal approval. He seeks faithfulness. He does not promise comfort. He promises a cross.

As the late Voddie Baucham frequently observed, the cross is not a symbol of tolerance; it is a declaration of war against sin.

The question Christianity ultimately poses is not whether Jesus is kind — He is — but whether He is Lord. And if He is, discipleship is not a matter of sentiment, but allegiance.