God's will isn't a mystery: Follow these 3 biblical truths



I believe that walking in God’s will and making decisions with confidence are impossible without the power of the gospel at work in our lives.

Why? Because the gospel is attached to our purpose, and the gospel transforms us. When we have placed our faith in Jesus Christ, we receive a brand-new heart (2 Corinthians 5:17), and a new heart will supernaturally result in a new direction.

Purpose is found in Christ alone. Keep your gaze fixed on him.

As we reflect on our purpose and the way we approach decisions (with the wisdom of God versus in the foolishness of this world), living out the three truths below will be a game-changer for our past, present, and future.

1. Repent of sin, turn to Christ in faith, and commit your life to God’s glory.

I like to say that no Christian ever graduates from the gospel.

Can I encourage you to go back to the gospel again and again? You need it, I need it, and it takes us back to the foundational reality that we can do nothing apart from Christ (John 15:5). The gospel is a wellspring of living water to the parched soul. The gospel turns the bitter heart sweet with grace. The gospel melts the heart of stone into a soft and submissive vessel. You need the gospel to live out God’s will.

There is no greater next step toward purpose than to turn from sin, put your faith in Jesus Christ, and commit to live for his glory. If you’ve never done that, today is the day of salvation — you can be born again and experience how Christ makes all things new.

If you’ve been saved by his grace, go back to that first love that changed your life and renew your commitment to live for him all the more.

2. Focus on Christ as the key to your purpose.

Identity is everything.

Walking in the will of God starts with walking in your identity. Jesus doesn’t save you and then say, “Okay, now you take it from here. Muster up the strength to be good enough, to stay saved, and get yourself to your destiny.” Instead, the Bible reminds us that growth begins with our gaze. Where are you looking? If not on Christ, you won’t make it.

Do you remember the story of Jesus walking on water and the lesson Peter learned in the process?

Matthew 14:28-31 tells us: “Peter said to Him, ‘Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.’ And He said, ‘Come!’ And Peter got out of the boat, and walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But seeing the wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and took hold of him, and said to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’”

Peter started out with his gaze fixed on Christ, even committing to do whatever the Lord asked. Before he knew it, he was walking on water! But the miracle was short-lived because Peter took his eyes off the one who called him out of the boat in the first place. He sank into the waves that the one who called him out of the boat controlled.

How often do we fall into the same pattern? We’re all in, only to take our eyes off the one who calls and sustains us. Purpose is found in Christ alone. Keep your gaze fixed on him.

3. Reject the worldly opinions of fools.

With what Proverbs says about fools in mind, along with Paul’s instruction to put away worldly patterns and walk in a manner worthy of your calling, you can confidently reject the opinions of those who live their lives for self-glory and self-satisfaction and boast that they are self-made.

Instead, choose to heed and treasure the divine wisdom God provides for your purpose.

There will be days when the Enemy will lie to you and put temptations in your path that invite you to take shortcuts, give up, or see God’s will as little more than a cosmic killjoy meant to ruin the fun of life. The devil is predictable, having tempted Christ with the same self-serving routine, only to fail. He will fail with you as well if you stick to God’s word over his wicked lies. One of the primary ways he will assault you is through the peer-pressuring opinions of fools.

Turn down the lies; turn up the truth.

Taken from "Walking in God’s Will" by Costi Hinn. Copyright ©March 2025 by Zondervan. Used by permission of Zondervan, www.zondervan.com.

Why You Should Use This Lent To Think More About Hell

As much as Jesus unconditionally loves us, He is also a preacher of hell.

Satan's target: Confronting the spiritual battle threatening your pastor



Is your pastor biblically unqualified? Then that situation pleases the devil while at the same time displeasing God.

But if your pastor is biblically qualified, then you should know that Satan hates him. Godly, qualified pastors are a particular source of demonic rage.

Ministry is spiritual warfare, and the God-hating devil takes aim at the leaders of Christ’s churches.

Let’s think about a few lines from 1 Timothy 3 that point to the devil’s plans. In 1 Timothy 3:1-7, Paul tells Timothy about the qualifications for church leaders (called “overseers” in 3:1, a term synonymous with “pastors” or “elders”). In 3:6, the leader “must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil.” In 3:7, “he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.”

In back-to-back verses, Paul mentions the devil, and this observation reminds us that pastoral ministry is spiritual warfare.

According to 1 Timothy 3:6, a pastor must not be a recent convert. A recent convert lacks the maturity and wisdom necessary for pastoral ministry. Moral steadfastness is vital for being qualified for ministry, and such steadfastness becomes evident over time. While a convert may become qualified for ministry at a later time, the timing has not arrived as long as the adjective “recent” still applies.

Self-conceit can grip the heart of a recent convert who is thrust into the responsibilities of pastoral ministry. And then the pastor may “fall into the condemnation of the devil” (1 Timothy 3:6). What is the role of the of here? Is this the condemnation which the devil will experience? Or is this some kind of condemnation that the devil gives? We know that the devil will be condemned (Revelation 20:10), but we also know that this pastor is called a “recent convert” — and converts are not condemned to hell.

Probably, then, this “condemnation of the devil” is “condemnation from the devil,” some kind of accusatory and defamatory activity from the devil against the pastor. Why would the devil act against the pastor in accusatory ways? In order to disgrace the pastor. And a recent convert may be especially vulnerable to the snares of pride and conceit.

In 1 Timothy 3:7, the potential pastor must be well thought of by outsiders. This requirement is “so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.” Looking at this purpose statement, we can see that “disgrace” is the devil’s snare that’s in view. If people outside the church could make legitimate accusations about a pastor’s character to show that he isn’t above reproach, then this compromised character will lead to the pastor’s disgrace.

The devil wants pastors to be disqualified and disgraced. The pastor lives a public life, so a pastor’s disgrace has public ramifications. We’ve all seen the headlines of ministers who have a moral failing, and the aftermath is brutal. It’s sorrowful for the pastor’s family, for the pastor’s church, and for those beyond the church who become aware of the moral failing.

The devil knows that a disgraced pastor will dishearten people, and discouragement is a vital tool in the enemy’s arsenal. He wants people to think of the gospel as untrue or, at least, as powerless. He wants people to wonder why they should bother with church when church leaders can be untrustworthy or hypocritical.

The devil also knows that a disgraced pastor emboldens the enemies of Christ. Rather than being discouraged, some people seize upon every story of moral failing and leverage it for their own ends. They may want to spread it like wildfire because they love juicy bits of gossip. They may want to stoke suspicion of organized religion. A pastor’s disgrace becomes fuel for devilish ambitions.

Ministry is spiritual warfare, and the God-hating devil takes aim at the leaders of Christ’s churches. The snare of their disgrace has the potential for widespread damage to the churches and lives of Christ’s people. Pray for your pastor, because Satan hates your pastor.

This essay was originally published at Dr. Mitchell Chase's Substack, Biblical Theology.

Atheists talk tough, but even they can't deny this inconvenient truth



It is widely accepted in the Western world today that morality is relative.

People who say this usually mean that morality is a matter of personal or cultural sentiment that has no objective basis in reality. Many modern people tend to think of the physical world as consisting of matters of fact (it’s not relative whether water is H2O), but of morality as being a matter of subjective opinion.

If we accept the modern, secular story of the world, this is a natural belief. If there is no higher authority on moral issues than individual or group opinion, then moral judgments are indeed subjective. Further, if the naturalistic story is true, and all that exists are matter and energy governed by natural laws, then good and evil are illusory concepts with no basis in reality.

After all, no material thing has the property of being good or evil; there are no good or evil atoms or molecules. Thus, neither good nor evil exists. Yes, one could have ideas about good and evil on this view, but they wouldn’t be any different from ideas about unicorns or leprechauns — none of these, in reality, would exist.

Many nonbelievers, when presented with this observation, will typically say something like, “I don’t have to be religious to know right from wrong,” or “Lots of atheists are good people,” or “Christians do so many evil things.” We can agree with all of these statements, but they miss the point that naturalism undermines any basis for objective moral values and duties.

The key word here is objective, meaning something that exists or is true regardless of what any person or group of people believes about it. Even if every person in an ancient culture believed that human sacrifice was a good and necessary practice, they would still be objectively wrong — that is, if an objective standard of morality exists. And the only plausible candidate for such an objective standard is God, whose very nature determines what is good.

'The religious fundamentalists are correct: Without God, there is no morality.'

Many who hold to a naturalistic worldview have never thought through its logical implications, especially in relation to morality. A number of leading naturalistic thinkers, though, have recognized and acknowledged that morality and naturalism are incompatible. This doesn’t mean that they became outlaws in their personal lives, but they certainly had to confront the cognitive dissonance of having deep moral intuitions (as all humans do), while also believing those intuitions have no relation to reality (though most don’t admit to this inevitable struggle).

Well-known biologist and atheist Richard Dawkins declared in his book "River Out of Eden," “The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference.” Dawkins recognizes that good and evil have no place in a naturalistic universe.

Existentialist philosopher and atheist Jean-Paul Sartre acknowledged that it was “very distressing that God does not exist, because all possibility of finding values in a heaven of ideas disappears along with Him. … As a result man is forlorn, because neither within him nor without does he find anything to cling to.”

Atheist philosopher Joel Marks recalled that he once believed in objective morality but was eventually driven to abandon that position. He experienced a “shocking epiphany” that “the religious fundamentalists are correct: Without God, there is no morality.” He was forced to conclude that “atheism implies amorality; and since I am an atheist, I must therefore embrace amorality.”

Atheist philosopher Julian Baggini confessed, “In an atheist universe, morality can be rejected without external sanction at any point, and without a clear, compelling reason to believe in its reality, that’s exactly what will sometimes happen.”

In a debate with a Christian at Stanford University, the late Cornell biology professor William Provine stated, “There are no gods, no purposes, and no goal-directed forces of any kind. … There is no ultimate foundation for ethics, no ultimate meaning in life, and no free will for humans, either.”

I belabor this point somewhat because it is difficult for most secular moderns to come to grips with. One can hardly blame them because the implications of naturalism are truly horrifying. It represents the complete dissolution of all objective meaning, value, purpose, and morality.

Thankfully, however, naturalism is not true, and there is an objective basis for right and wrong, which is God’s own supremely good nature. Because all human beings are made in God’s image, we have deep moral intuitions that help us discern right from wrong. This remains true even for those who reject belief in God, which is why many nonbelievers live basically moral lives, even while discounting the very foundation of right and wrong (Genesis 1:26-27; Romans 1:32; 2:14-15).

Due to the Edenic fall, our moral intuitions have been corrupted by sin, and we need the moral guidance God has provided in His Word. God’s commands in scripture represent our moral duties and obligations and provide a firm foundation for living a life that reflects God’s own wholly good nature.

This article is adapted from a post that originally appeared on the Worldview Bulletin Substack.

Can Queen Esther’s story save modern America?



In mid-March, Jews and many Christians alike will celebrate Purim, commemorating the events in Jewish history when Queen Esther put her life on the line to save her people from certain death.

The story, found in the Old Testament book of Esther, is about an exalted adviser to King Xerxes of Persia named Haman, who devised a plot to exterminate all the Jews in the kingdom. Esther, secretly a Jew, had a cousin named Mordecai, who caught wind of the scheme and advised Esther to approach King Xerxes and beg for the life of their people. But Esther was well aware of the law: A person could not approach the king unsummoned. If the king did not find favor with a royal subject, that person could immediately be dragged out and executed.

Whether we use our life, the gifts God has given us, and the time he has given us to honor our Creator is entirely up to us.

Queen Esther asked her cousin to gather all the Jews and have them fast, repent of their sins, and pray for three days before she made her risky approach into the king's chambers. At the end of the three days of fervently seeking the Lord, Esther felt confident approaching the king. Through a series of wise and timely actions that followed, Esther was able to turn the tables on Haman. Not only had Haman planned to exterminate the Jewish people, but he had also constructed gallows from which to hang Mordecai for refusing to bow before him.

Because Mordecai had previously saved the king’s life by exposing an assassination plot, Xerxes felt compelled to honor him. And Haman was assigned to dress Mordecai in royal robes and parade him on the king's own horse through the kingdom's streets so that everyone could cheer and honor him!

Well, the story ends with Haman himself being hanged from the very gallows he had built for Mordecai — and all of his wealth and power were given to Queen Esther and her cousin Mordecai.

Does any of this story have significance for us today in America? Could the example of Queen Esther be used by those of us in the church to benefit our nation?

For Christians around the world, the Lenten season began on Ash Wednesday. During these 40 days, believers are encouraged to humble themselves, fast and pray, and focus on personally drawing closer to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

This period of reflection and repentance can lead to a renewed spirit and focus on what God desires from our lives. And with lives that are changed and attuned correctly on the things of God, the lives of others, even an entire nation, can be affected for the good.

One of the key verses and ideas that comes from Queen Esther's heroic life is a word of encouragement spoken to her by her cousin Mordecai: “Who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

God did not make a mistake in Esther’s life, nor in the words spoken to her by her cousin, her wise adviser.

From this story, we must all be assured that every one of us was born for such a time as ours. Why? Because we know that God does not make mistakes, and we, in our time, are not an exception. God does not look down on a person and say, “Oops! Bill has not used his life properly. I should have had him born in the mid-1800s in America, and he could have stopped Abraham Lincoln from being assassinated! Ugh! My bad!”

Whether we use our life, the gifts God has given us, and the time he has given us to honor our Creator is entirely up to us.

And what a time and place in which we find ourselves today!

A window of opportunity allows each of us to help move America from its state of "fundamental transformation" over the past 16 years and participate — in great and small ways — to “foundationally restore” it to the vision of our Founding Fathers.

Pastor Jonathan Cahn recently delivered a powerful, prophetic message at the National Prayer Breakfast attended by members of Congress in Washington, D.C. In that message, he challenged Christians to use this window of opportunity to heed the plea of 2 Chronicles 7:14 (NIV):

If my people who are called by my name will humble themselves, and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

Many scriptures encourage us in this journey to restoration. For example, in Galatians 5, St. Paul provides two verses that work together to help point the way: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”

He goes on: “So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.”

And when it comes to dealing with “the sin that so easily entangles” (Hebrews 12:1), Paul says in 1 Corinthians:

No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

The Christian rock group Casting Crowns has a powerful song that reminds Christians of life's true purpose and focus. The group's song “Only Jesus” includes these lyrics:

And I, I don’t want to leave a legacy
I don’t care if they remember me
Only Jesus
And I, I’ve only got one life to live
I’ll let every second point to Him
Only Jesus

(The entire song is terrific and worth a listen, and the rest of the lyrics can be read here.)

Dovetailing with this, the popular daily devotional “My Utmost for His Highest,” from the February 24 entry, exhorts us with these words: “Many of us are after our own ends, and Jesus Christ cannot help Himself to our lives. If we are abandoned to Jesus, we have no ends of our own to serve.”

When our personal goals align with those of the Almighty who created us “for such a time as this,” we, like Queen Esther, can participate in what God is doing in our own “kingdom” today, with an eye on the one to come.

Editor’s note: A version of this article appeared originally at the Christian Post.

FACT CHECK: Were 14 Books Removed From The Bible In 1684?

A post shared on X claims that 14 books were removed from the Bible in 1684. They removed 14 books from your Bible in 1684. The Lost Books of the Apocrypha. Most Christians don’t even know they existed… But religious leaders fought to keep them hidden. Here’s the shocking truth about the forbidden books they didn’t want […]

Christ is king: Why the globalist agenda is doomed to fail



The world isn’t what it used to be — or at least, that’s how it feels.

Every day, we wake up to another headline that sounds more like a dystopian novel than real life. The moral decay, the erosion of individual freedoms, the blatant hostility toward biblical truth — none of it happened overnight, but the acceleration is dizzying. It’s easy to look around and think, "This is it. This is the end."

We may not always see his plan clearly, but we trust in the one who rules over all.

Just last year, the darkness felt particularly suffocating. Conservative parents protesting at school board meetings and Christians praying quietly at abortion clinics were targeted by the Biden Justice Department. Policies were enacted that undermined the family, eroded religious liberties, and weakened our national sovereignty.

Globalist elites smugly declare, "You will own nothing, and you will be happy," while living in luxury and flying their jets around the globe. Big Government, Big Tech, Big Finance, Big Pharma — all marching in lockstep toward a world devoid of personal liberty. And for those who resist? They are silenced, canceled, or crushed.

In moments like these, despair whispers in our ears.

The absolute sovereignty of God

When the world unravels, it’s easy to forget that nothing happens outside God’s control. Governments may rage, tyrants may scheme, and civilizations may crumble, but not one event unfolds apart from the sovereign hand of our king. History is not spiraling into chaos — it is marching toward fulfilling God’s eternal plan.

Scripture makes this clear: "The king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will" (Proverbs 21:1). Every ruler, government, and regime — even those that oppose God — are still subject to his authority.

We do not panic when the world grows darker or lose heart when persecution increases. Instead, we stand firm, knowing that the same God who works all things for our good (Romans 8:28) also works all things for his ultimate glory. We may not always see his plan clearly, but we trust in the one who rules over all.

How should Christians respond?

Knowing God is sovereign does not give us an excuse to retreat from the battle. Quite the opposite — it is the foundation for bold, fearless action. So how shall we then live?

1. Reject passivity & despair

It’s one thing to acknowledge God’s sovereignty; it’s another to live like we believe it. Too many Christians have surrendered to passivity, thinking God’s control means inaction while the world burns around them.

But throughout history, the faithful have fought, preached, worked, and suffered, trusting in God’s unfolding plan even when they couldn’t see the whole picture. First Corinthians 15:25 reminds us that Christ is actively reigning, subduing his enemies even now, and we have a role to play. When culture turns hostile and governments oppress, we do not despair — we pick up our tools, stand firm in truth, and advance with unwavering faith.

The gates of hell will not prevail against Christ’s church.

2. Live as people of hope & action

Our mindset should not be dictated by headlines but by the unshakable reality that Jesus Christ is king. We do not cower in fear; we step forward in faith. The kingdom of God is advancing, and we are called to be active participants, refusing despair and apathy. No matter how dark things seem, we press on because we know how the story ends — Christ wins.

As Martin Luther said, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

We do not wait for better days to act. We act now, living in faith, planting seeds for the future, and trusting that God will bring the harvest.

3. Strengthen the foundations

The erosion of a civilization does not begin with policies or politicians — it starts with the rejection of truth. When truth is abandoned, families weaken, churches compromise, and societies collapse.

To see lasting change, we must strengthen the foundations by taking responsibility for the next generation, reclaiming education, and equipping children to think biblically and stand firm. But it’s not just education. We must also build Christian institutions, churches that preach the full counsel of God, businesses that operate with integrity, and communities rooted in biblical values. The enemy seeks to dismantle these pillars, but we must be relentless in rebuilding them.

The church must lead by restoring truth, strengthening families, and reclaiming the cultural ground we have ceded. We do not need permission to live as God has called us — we need the courage to do it.

The long game

History turns quickly, and just when darkness seems overwhelming, God moves. The early church endured brutal persecution, yet the gospel spread like wildfire. The Reformers stood against a corrupt religious system, unleashing the word of God and transforming nations. Tyrants have repeatedly tried to stamp out the truth, only to fail. This should give us confidence!

Donald Trump’s re-election has shifted policies, reversing some of the damage inflicted by the Democratic Party. This has given us some breathing room in which to make progress. But our hope is not in any politician. Christ reigns now, and our mission remains the same, no matter who holds earthly power.

The church has outlasted empires. Rome fell. The Soviet Union crumbled. Countless oppressive governments have come and gone, yet the body of Christ remains, and his kingdom advances. "For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet" (1 Corinthians 15:25).

We do not fight for short-term victories alone — we build for the long haul. We do not merely survive — we advance. And we do so with full confidence that no globalist agenda, no failing civilization, and no oppressive government will overthrow the king of kings.

Christ reigns — now

If there’s one truth that should shape how we live, it’s this: Christ reigns. Not someday, not after some future event — now. He is seated at the Father's right hand, ruling over all things and bringing history to its appointed end. The collapse of nations, the rise of tyrants, the chaos of our age — none of it is outside his control.

That means we have no reason to fear.

Too many Christians today live as if they are on the losing side. But the reality is the exact opposite. The kingdom of God is advancing, and the enemies of Christ are being subdued. Every cultural battle, political upheaval, and struggle we face is just one more step toward the fulfillment of his plan. Our job is not to retreat or despair but to proclaim Christ, make disciples, and take dominion.

So press forward — not with fear but with faith. We build, we fight, we raise our children to love the Lord, and we take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. We do not measure success by election cycles or news headlines but by the unshakable promise of God’s word.

Victory is certain. Christ reigns. Now, let’s live like it.

Jesus keeps showing up in dreams. Are you paying attention?



Under the weight of reality, humans believe in miracles, although “believe” is an understatement. We “believe” in miracles the same way we “believe” in our own existence, our own two hands.

Sometimes it’s just latent — it needs to wake up.

If miracles don’t exist, then what are we even doing here, on this grassy, wet, populated cannonball spiraling through the Milky Way?

Revelation isn’t about wisdom; it’s about awakening.

Miracles are undeniable. Perhaps they are not scientifically provable, although this assumption, as you’ll see, is itself wobbly.

We don’t know how miracles happen. There’s no script or receipt. And this often, by nature, defies scientific examination. Over the past 2,000 years, one thing has proven true: All miracles come from Jesus of Nazareth, the Word.

In the digital network era of information, Christ has been gliding through the dreams of millions of nonbelievers.

Across the Middle East, where hostility toward Christianity runs deep, people have been dreaming of Jesus. Usually he introduces them to someone, a stranger, who miraculously appears in their life the next day.

Warning shot

When Abraham and Sarah entered Gerar, Abraham, afraid for his life, told everyone that Sarah was his sister.

King Abimelech, unaware of the truth, took Sarah into his household. That night, God appeared to him in a dream with a chilling message: "You are as good as dead because of the woman you have taken; she is a married woman" (Genesis 20:3).

Abimelech pleaded his innocence; he hadn’t known that she was married. God acknowledged this, but warned him: Return Sarah, or suffer the consequences.

This dream was more than a warning. It was a rare moment when a non-Israelite received a direct message from God.

Dreams, in the biblical world, are deeper than unconscious thoughts — they are places where heaven and earth meet.

Synchronicity

A few years ago, I dove into the ideas of Carl Jung, the Swiss psychologist who ushered in a new form of Christianity.

Jung saw dreams as a source of prophecy. He called them “paranormal phenomena” — things science can’t explain. If miracles had a theory, this might be it: events bound by meaning, not cause.

I like to think it’s playful. That the Creator, my Creator, leaves clues of His love.

One of his big ideas is synchronicity, the unexplainable occurrence of meaningful coincidences. Think “synchronized,” but the coordination is divine.

Mark Twain was born in 1835, a year in which Halley’s Comet passed Earth. He predicted he’d die when it returned. In 1910, the comet appeared again — the day after his death.

A song comes on just as you’re thinking of someone who died, like a message sent through static. Numbers, phrases, chance encounters. The book that finds you, the right person at the right time. Fate colliding in ways too romantic to ignore.

Synchronicity proves that everything is connected, often in beautiful ways. The whole experience is so well crafted that it feels literary, like a novel tangled with theme, foreshadowing, dramatic irony — all the devices of storytelling.

And dreams — they are agents of synchronicity.

Even before reading Jung, I doubted the idea of accidents and coincidences. But Jung gave me the science — the science of the unprovable. Suddenly, I was drowning in meaningful connections and vivid dreams. A bombardment of symbols. The outer world mysteriously syncs with the most private thing of all: my thoughts, the endless dialogue between a soul and itself.

Solomon’s dream of wisdom

Early in his reign, Solomon went to Gibeon to offer sacrifices. That night, God appeared to him in a dream and said: "Ask for whatever you want me to give you" (1 Kings 3:5).

It was a test. Solomon could have asked for power, wealth, or victory. Instead, he asked for wisdom — to rule well, judge rightly, and discern good from evil.

God was pleased. He gave Solomon wisdom beyond measure — and threw in riches and honor.

Unlike other biblical dreams, which often needed interpretation, this one was clear. No riddles. Just a conversation, a moment of divine intimacy. The dreams of Jesus have this same quality, as if he reveals himself in the sharpest, most cinematic way possible, like a preview for the final apocalypse.

The Greek apokalypsis doesn’t mean destruction. It means revelation. A dream given form, a vision laid bare. It is not about God’s wrath but His love. The Second Coming will not be a final explosion of divine fury — it will be love breaking through.

The apocalypse has already happened: at Golgotha, on a hill shaped like a skull. Year 33. The cross was the unveiling — the great revelation that shattered history into before and after.

Simone Weil and the dream of presence

Simone Weil is one of my favorite writers. Weil was a French-Jewish philosopher who, after having a mystical experience at the foot of a crucifix, became deeply influenced by Christian mysticism and theology.

Weil believed that we experience God’s love indirectly through the people and objects of the world.

She believed in a God who withdraws — not to abandon, but to make space for freedom.

His absence, she wrote, is what allows the world to breathe. Yet, in that very withdrawal, He leaves traces — signs scattered like constellations for the soul to follow.

Weil called this the “implicit love of God.”

At the heart of her thought is de-creation, a concept as startling as it is profound. Unlike destruction, which bulldozes and erases, de-creation is an undoing that reveals.

It is a return, not to nothingness but to origin, a movement backward to the moment before something was formed, when it existed in pure potential. In de-creation, Weil saw the soul’s highest calling: to be unmade and remade, to let go of the self until what remains is only presence itself — the light of love stripped of ego.

It is a dream of reversal, an unbuilding that does not diminish but restores. The world, Weil suggests, is not a prison to escape but a teacher guiding us toward that dream of return — toward the place where God waits, hidden and everywhere.

“Love is not consolation,” she wrote. “It is light.”

Hidden since the foundation of the world

Jacob, exhausted and alone, stopped for the night in a barren place. He laid his head on a rock and fell asleep. Then he dreamed a ladder, stretching from earth to heaven. Angels ascended and descended.

At the top, the Lord spoke: "Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth. ... I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go" (Genesis 28:14-15).

Jacob gasped awake. The ground beneath him suddenly felt sacred.

"Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it. ... This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven" (Genesis 28:16).

This dream was a turning point. Jacob may have been a fugitive, but he was not abandoned. The ladder — a bridge between heaven and earth — marked the moment he began to understand that God’s presence was not confined to altars or temples. It reaches everywhere, like the wind, unseen yet undeniable.

God's presence in creation is a mysterious paradox. His revelation is also His concealment, so that He reveals Himself in the world but remains beyond our full comprehension.

Revelation isn’t about wisdom; it’s about awakening. It’s about looking up at the sky: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:3-4).

Joseph, the dreamer

Joseph’s dreams shaped his life. As a boy, he saw visions of sheaves of wheat bowing before him; of the sun, moon, and stars bending in reverence. When he shared them with his brothers, their jealousy burned. Soon, they betrayed him, selling him into slavery in a foreign land.

But Joseph’s gift did not fade.

In an Egyptian prison, he interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh’s cupbearer and baker — one would be restored, the other executed. When Pharaoh himself was troubled by a dream of seven fat cows devoured by seven gaunt ones, no one could decipher its meaning except Joseph.

The dream was a warning: Seven years of plenty would be followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh, recognizing Joseph’s divine wisdom, elevated him to power.

The dream that almost stopped the crucifixion

In the middle of history’s most pivotal trial, when Jesus of Nazareth stood before Pontius Pilate, another figure — almost forgotten — received a warning from beyond.

Pilate’s wife, unnamed in Scripture but later called Claudia Procula in tradition, had a dream — and it shook her.

As Pilate sat in judgment, trying to navigate the political and religious storm around Jesus, a message reached him from his wife: "Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him" (Matthew 27:19).

A dream. Not a whisper from the high priests, not a threat from Rome, but a dream.

We don’t know what she saw — only that it tormented her. Perhaps she witnessed the brutal execution before it happened, or saw Jesus in divine glory, or simply felt an overwhelming dread. Whatever it was, she suffered. And she warned her husband to walk away.

Dream logic

Beyond the tiny raindrops of grace that rescue each of us throughout our lives, there’s proof everywhere, like the enormity of our universe, coded into every mystery of life.

Childbirth is a miracle. From the moment of conception and the clustering of cells to the first flutter of a heartbeat, life itself is a divine act. Parenthood is a miracle. Children are perhaps the most miraculous of it all.

The other day my 4-year-old told me, “You’re my king.” It knocked me sideways, the way I felt so honored that my child, my miracle, would see me, in all my flaws, as her king.

And then I crunched sideways the other way when I realized that God may feel similarly. So I’ll say it because people hear it even when they’re dreaming: Jesus is King.

Self-discovery trap: Finding truth on the battlefield of lies



The ancient Greeks said to “know thyself.” Unfortunately, Western culture has elevated that pursuit to a life goal, as in, “The purpose of my life is to discover who I am, find my happiness, etc.”

But focusing on ourselves is not what we were created to do.

Truth is the first weapon in the arsenal against lies.

That’s the key. We were created by Someone for something. Who we are can only truly be understood in relation to the Almighty Creator of the universe. That understanding, properly acted upon, brings us purpose and meaning and life and joy.

And, according to the apostle Paul, everyone starts in precisely the same place.

"And you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience, among whom we all also formerly conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, doing the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest" (Ephesians 2:1-3).

That’s the bad news. Fortunately, Paul doesn’t make us wait for the good news — it's the very next thing he shares.

Ephesians 2:4-10:

But God, being rich in mercy because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved — and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

Light vs. darkness, truth vs. lies

These glorious truths are a light to the world. However, we live in an increasingly dark world of lies. We don’t know who we can trust or believe as we watch current events unfold.

Sometimes we struggle with what to believe about ourselves. It only takes watching a few commercials to be told we aren’t living our best lives. We not only need that new thing, but we’re told we deserve it. Or we’re told we’ll be less without it — less attractive, less successful, less happy.

Always, happiness is held out as the primary goal of our lives. Whatever we must pursue to find happiness is worthy.

This philosophy has done more damage to families than perhaps any other. Is my spouse not making me happy any more? Dump him or her. After all, I have to be true to myself and what makes me happy. Or maybe I’m not being true to my own sexuality. Maybe I need to change my body to reflect my sexual inclinations. I gotta be me. This is my truth. (A lie if there ever were one.)

There is human wreckage left in the wake of these lies — this illusion of multiple truths. And it is staggering.

Those left behind in broken families — children and adults — are left grappling with the ugly reality of betrayal, abandonment, confusion, insecurity, and pain. And Satan steps right into this with more lies — always the lies. A voice whispering in their ears: You’re not worthy. You are less than. You will never be good enough. You will never be loved.

Make no mistake. This is a spiritual battle, and sadly, it is increasingly common (see Ephesians 6:12). But this is precisely the place where we must know who we are in Him. If you belong to God, you are His precious child, redeemed from the pit of hell for His glory. And since you are still alive, that means He has plans for you, also for His glory (re-read the passage from Ephesians 2 above).

Redeemed and precious to God. That is who you are.

Keeping truth top of mind

How do you remember who you are when you’re suffering an onslaught of lies from that pit of hell?

Fortunately, God has given you a complete set of weaponry to fight back. Paul writes in Ephesians 6:10-17:

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the might of His strength. Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace. In addition to all, having taken up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one, also receive the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God …

Notice that truth is the first weapon in the arsenal against lies. Of course it is! So here are a few more truths upon which to reflect.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 6:

Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you; but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God. … For you were bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body.

And Jesus says, "You are My friends if you do what I command you" (John 15:14).

Back to Paul: "For as many as are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons by whom we cry out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God ... (Romans 8:14-16).

The Bible has no shortage of truth about who you are in Him. We can meditate on these passages to permeate our hearts with these truths, helping ensure that what we’re telling ourselves is not contradicting His word.

What we say and believe about ourselves must be truth.

This article was adapted from an essay originally published on Diane Schrader's Substack, She Speaks Truth.

Christian sabotage: How 'loser theology' is poisoning the church



Why do evangelical Christians have so little power in our society?

According to some surveys, evangelical Christians compose roughly 25% of the U.S. population, and though we are known for our tendency to vote for conservative political candidates, we have little power outside our political preferences.

Smaller groups, by contrast, have much greater power in proportion to their numbers. A Gallup survey estimates that 7.6% of adults identify as LGBTQ, yet despite their numbers, they wield extraordinary power in our society. All major U.S. industries — from tech to business to entertainment to education to government — are dominated by radical feminists, pro-abortionists, LGBTQ activists, and godless secularists.

If evangelical Christians represent a quarter of our population, then where are the prominent evangelical entrepreneurs, up-and-coming business leaders, CEOs, innovators, and tech pioneers? They’ve got to be out there somewhere. So why don’t we know about them?

Something in the evangelical waters is limiting our potential and causing us to actively avoid gaining and asserting power in our society. We’ve been browbeaten by the evangelical elite class that scolded us for making an idol out of power. They say things like, “The most godly thing a Christian can do with power is to lay it down,” which sounds like something the devil said as a practical joke, not expecting us to actually fall for it.

But we did.

To be sure, Scripture warns us about the potential abuses of power. But it also promises that we will receive power and instructs us in the godly use of power. The core assertion of the Christian faith is that “Jesus is Lord,” we have a mandate from God to assert the supremacy of Christ in every area of life, and he has given us power to serve this end.

The worthless servant who squandered his power

Jesus told a parable about a nobleman who went on a journey after giving minas to 10 servants and instructing them to “engage in business until I come.” You know the story. The first servant was given one mina and gained 10 more. The master responded, “Well done, good servant! Because you have been faithful in a very little, you shall have authority over ten cities” (Luke 19:17). The second servant received five, gained five, and received a similar response.

The third servant, however, was given one mina, and he did nothing with it. He was afraid, hid the mina he was given, and was rebuked for his wickedness by the master, who subsequently took his single mina from him.

Pietism is the theology of the worthless servant.

There are many observations we can make here, but the most pertinent to this topic is that the worthless servant failed because he was afraid. In verse 21 he said, “I was afraid of you, because you are a severe man.” He was afraid of failure and afraid of the master’s severity.

The worthless servant’s biggest failure was his failure to take action because he did not trust the master. He did not account for the master’s grace. The master expected his servants to experience gains and losses, knowing that over time, the gains would exceed the losses and he’d receive the profit. But the worthless servant didn’t trust the master’s grace. He played it safe, put his mina in his piggy bank, and gained nothing.

In the economics of the kingdom of God, there’s abundant grace for courageous Christians who take Spirit-filled risks and fall flat on their faces. The master wasn’t angry that this servant took a risky action and failed. The master was angry that the servant didn’t even try.

As Christians, we know that the master of the parable is God, who holds the future in his hands and is sovereign over outcomes. What we experience as risk is not actually risk to God. So the application of the parable is simple. It is better to trust God, take a Spirit-filled risk, and fail than never to try in the first place.

This brings me back to my thesis: Something in the evangelical waters is limiting our potential and causing us to actively avoid gaining and asserting power in our society.

That “something” is pietism. Pietism is the theology of the worthless servant. It’s a risk-nothing, gain-nothing, do-nothing theology, and it is robbing evangelicals of our God-given potential, making us passive, weak, and ineffective for the kingdom.

The poison of pietism

Don’t get too hung up on the word “pietism.” I’m not criticizing piety, which can refer to a healthy devotion to the Lord. I’m criticizing pietism, which is a false piety that undermines true devotion to the Lord.

Pietism, as I describe below, is not a doctrinal system. It’s more of a spiritual impulse or set of bad habits, not limited to any particular denomination, and yet so common and reflexive as to go unnoticed in the lives of most sincere Christians.

If pietism were an outright heresy, with identifiable false teachers and supportive institutions, we could simply label it as such and call it out. But the poison of pietism doesn’t work that way. I call pietism a “poison” for two reasons.

First, the impulses of pietism are like toxins in the water supply of evangelicalism, shaping our most fundamental spiritual reflexes at the preconscious level, such that we don’t even know it's happening. Regardless of our particular theological tradition, all American evangelicals drink from a common evangelical water supply, from the evangelical history in America to prominent figures such as Billy Graham, parachurch ministries that cross denominational boundaries, publishing houses, conferences, and so on. So we can’t point to “Acme Christian Denomination” and say, “That’s where the problem is!” because the poison is in the evangelical water supply we’re all drinking from.

Second, a principle in toxicology says that “the dose makes the poison,” which means that an otherwise safe substance can become toxic if you ingest too much of it. “Pietism” is like a spiritual overdose of good, Christian reflexes that ends up crippling one’s spiritual life.

Sincere piety becomes toxic pietism when we overdose on spiritual realities that choke out and exclude real-world duties.

I am familiar with pietism because I have observed such bad habits in my own life, have tried to overcome them, and am writing this to help others recognize and turn from this tendency by God’s grace.

Definition of pietism

“Pietism” is a gnostic tendency to overemphasize spiritual realities at the expense of material realities. It relies on a fortune cookie, bumper-sticker, and ultimately fear-based approach to Scripture.

For example, Colossians 3:2 says, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” Here, Paul is talking about rightly ordered priorities; heavenly priorities come before earthly priorities. No one disagrees with that. But pietism takes it a step farther, into overdose territory, by concluding that earthly things don’t really matter and the only important things are your inner spirituality and getting to heaven. Thus, pietism tends to privatize Christianity, limiting its application to the heart so that it doesn’t extend to the public realm of the real world.

In practice, a pietist might think the most important thing about your job is to be nice to your co-workers, share the gospel in the lunchroom, and be nice to everyone. A pietist would certainly agree that it’s good for a high school student to pray at home before school. But he might wince at the thought of calling other students to gather around the flagpole to pray for Christ’s name to be glorified at school. A pietist would surely agree that sex trafficking is a great moral evil but may oppose an attempt to ban pornography in the legislature.

Why? Because he might say, “You can’t legislate morality.” (Actually, all legislation is moral, but that’s the subject of a different article.)

I saw a tweet the other day in which one man described “an almost symphonic surge of attacks on our most fundamental rights, by officials, newspapers, politicians, celebrities, & academics. It's not rhetoric anymore, it's an organized massing of institutional forces prior to big moves which seem imminent.” Right on cue, another man came along with this pietistic response: “We should not be trading in the business of fear. Christians are a people of truth, joy, and hope, because we know, love, and worship the King who is Truth, who bears joy by His Spirit, and brings assured hope. Let us be know [sic] for this instead.”

This response sounds holy and righteous, but this man is getting high on his own supply. It is not godly to dismiss real-world threats with a “fear not” wave of the hand.

Impracticality is a feature — not a bug — of pietism.

In the realm of politics, the pietist will say the most important thing to do when Christians have strong disagreements is to disagree charitably. If a pro-life Christian is speaking with a pro-abortion Christian (if there could even be such a thing), the most important thing is to be Christlike in disagreement. The pietist is more likely to judge another man’s character by the words and tone with which he expresses disagreement than the content of the disagreement itself. If the pro-abortionist speaks nicely, with calm, soothing words, and if the pro-lifer speaks passionately and angrily about the evils of abortion, how might a pietist evaluate the character of the two men? He would assume the pro-lifer’s character was insufficiently Christlike and the pro-abortionist is a man of high character. Why? Because the pro-abortionist was nice and the pro-lifer was mean. The pietist may credit the pro-abortionist for being a man of “high character” because he has an affable demeanor and kindness in his eyes, even though he supports a bloodthirsty policy of genocide against the most vulnerable.

In other words, the pietist sees the smile and thinks the pro-abortionist means well, has kindness in his heart, and is therefore a good man, even though the real-world action he supports is abhorrently wicked.

When challenged on this point, pietists often appeal to cheap slogans to avoid painful or difficult realities. They say things like “we need to take the high road” or “we should stay above the fray,” while the world slouches toward Gomorrah.

The fact that pietists value subjective abstractions and ideals makes them an easy mark for leftists, who also live by idealistic abstractions. Leftists are notoriously impractical because their thinking is idealistic. They are driven by a utopian vision of the world as they believe it should be, regardless of whether or not their vision is feasible practically. Leftists cannot cope with reality because they refuse to live in the world as it actually is, preferring to live in an idealized fiction of the world as they believe it should be.

This helps explain some of the head-scratching contradictions of pietists. They may claim to hold conservative convictions on paper, but refuse to fight for them in practice because that would mean getting their hands dirty. Fighting the left doesn’t feel very spiritual. They prefer to live in a world of spiritualized, utopian abstractions, hand-wringing over the evil in our society while doing nothing to stop it except evangelize and pray for revival. Thus impracticality is a feature, not a bug, of pietism.

Pietism and leftism often lead to the same results. The left pushes a radical agenda. The pietists do nothing to stop it. Then they lament the sad state we are in while crying, “How long, O Lord?”

Take illegal immigration, for example. Pietists ignore the obvious and disastrous consequences of illegal immigration in our country, preferring instead to focus on spiritualized abstractions about loving our neighbors, caring for orphans, welcoming the sojourners, and even how “God is bringing the nations to us!” All of those priorities are good and right in their proper place, with the proper “dosage.”

Of course, Christians should show hospitality and evangelize people in one’s own local community. But pietists overdose on this priority when they argue in favor of open borders, which is tantamount to a foreign invasion. How about loving the neighbors that already live here by preventing a criminal invasion?

But calling out the ugly fact that mass illegal immigration brings in violence and crime doesn’t seem “Christlike” to gullible, soft-hearted pietists, who are convinced that these people are all poor, helpless victims and innocent widows and orphans whom Jesus commands us to love. And the fact that leftists incentivize illegal immigration as an electoral strategy by offering free social services that overwhelm our economy doesn’t matter to pietists, who ignore these hard realities, choosing instead to listen to the feel-good sloganeering of caring for the “least of these.”

A theology of losing

Pietism is therefore a theology of losing. It would have us believe that Christians should lose. We’re supposed to lose. In fact, we’re more godly when we lose.

Pietists assume the best way to glorify God is to lay down our power before our pagan overlords and subject ourselves to God-hating, abortion-loving, child-transing perverts. And when those people have all the power — and we have none — they will surely persecute us for believing what the Bible says about them, which, of course, gives us the opportunity to demonstrate how Christlike, gentle, lowly, and radical we are. We should not resist this, they tell us. In fact, we should welcome it as the means God uses to purify his power-idolizing church.

In the meantime, we’re told that we should be agreeable, compliant, maximally nonconfrontational, syrupy sweet, and winsome. Don’t push back. Don’t oppose them while they invade and colonize our churches, seminaries, publishing houses, and institutions. Don’t push back while the radical feminists, drag queens, and gays take over our local school boards and city councils. We should let them sideline and marginalize us, so then we can attract them to Christ with our faithful presence.

And then, that magical moment will arrive.

Like the prodigal son, they’ll come to their senses and say to themselves, “What have I done?” And they will say to us, “I was sooo wrong about you! Please tell me why you’re so different! How do you have such joy and peace in this dark world? What’s the reason for the hope that is in you? Why are you, your wife, and your children so healthy and happy? And why am I, my wife, and her boyfriend so miserable? Is there a way we can find peace?”

Then you’ll think to yourself, “I knew it would work! I’ve been actively losing my whole life for just this moment! Now I’ll share the gospel with them, they’ll all get saved, and mass revival will break out! Then they can join me and we’ll all go back to losing together!”

Obviously, this is absurd. But these sentiments are far too common to dismiss as an outlier. Prominent evangelical voices like Russell Moore and Ray Ortlund have gleefully celebrated the decline of “Bible Belt” Christianity. Other evangelical voices like David Platt and David French advocate a “beautiful loser” kind of Christianity that is ambivalent about the state of the world. And as the church declines in the West, pietism is a cope these leaders use to feel superior for losing.

This essay was adapted from an article published at Michael Clary's Substack.