Tag: Faith

What Is Jesus Worth To You?

When Jesus told the rich man to sell all he had and give it to the poor, He wasn’t just making a statement about wealth; He was getting to the heart of what really matters to us. Jesus, in His unique way, challenged the rich man—and all of us—to think deeply about what we value most. Is there anything that, if Jesus asked, we would hesitate to give up? For the rich man, his wealth was more than just possessions; it was his security, identity, and comfort. When asked to let it go, he walked away saddened, revealing just how attached he was to something that would eventually fade.

This story doesn’t necessarily mean that every Christian must give away all they own, but it does reveal that we’re each called to hold everything we have with open hands. The point isn’t that Jesus is set on taking everything from us; it’s that He wants us to be willing to place everything in His hands. That includes our wealth, but it extends to our ambitions, our relationships, and even our plans for the future. It’s about who or what sits on the throne of our hearts.

Jesus’ question to the rich man is a question He extends to each of us: What is Jesus worth to you? Is He worth more than your possessions, dreams, or even comfort? True discipleship isn’t about poverty or self-denial for its own sake, but about aligning our hearts with what will truly last. When we recognize that Jesus is our highest treasure, we find that nothing else compares.

Tainted Love

Jesus’ prayer for Lazarus, offered publicly just before He called Lazarus from the tomb, was intentional and direct. It wasn’t a show of personal piety but a clear call to witness God’s power so that “they may believe that you sent me” (John 11:42). Jesus demonstrated that public faith—done for the right reasons—can have a profound impact. Like a light set on a hill, some faith acts are meant to be seen, leading others toward the hope we have in God.

This concept isn’t new in Scripture. Daniel famously prayed in front of an open window despite a law against it, standing firm in his dedication to God regardless of who saw or what consequences he faced (Daniel 6:10). His actions, like Jesus’ prayer, pointed beyond himself to the God who is worthy of trust even in hostile circumstances. Public faith like this shines in humility, not self-promotion, serving to inspire courage and commitment in others.

Yet, we’re also cautioned about letting public expressions of faith become tainted love—acts done for personal validation rather than God’s glory. Jesus criticized the Pharisees for practicing righteousness to be “seen by men” (Matthew 6:1), aiming not to glorify God but to elevate their own image. Their so-called love for God was tainted by a desire for recognition, and Jesus makes it clear that this approach leads nowhere.

For us, the challenge is simple yet profound: we can and should live our faith openly, but only if the aim is to lead others to God rather than elevating ourselves. True love for God will be untainted by pride, focused on glorifying Him in all we do. So, the next time we feel led to act in faith publicly, let’s pause and consider—are we motivated by a pure heart that longs to point others to Christ, or is there a hint of tainted love? Ultimately, there’s only one name worth exalting.

Evidence & Excuses

Ever notice how, for some people, there’s never “enough” evidence for God? You could show them miracles, point to transformed lives, or share fulfilled prophecies—but they still hesitate. In Luke 16, Jesus confronts this mindset in the story of the rich man and Lazarus. We meet a man who waited too long. From his place of torment, he begs for someone to warn his brothers, hoping to give them “enough” evidence to believe. But Jesus’ response is stark: “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them” (Luke 16:29). In other words, the truth is already in front of them if they’re willing to see it.

Jesus’ words reveal something crucial about faith: it isn’t a scavenger hunt for irrefutable proof but a journey of seeking, trusting, and responding to the evidence already present. Often, what we’re really looking for isn’t more evidence but the courage to act on what we know. Like in Matthew 13, Jesus explained that His parables were meant to be understood by those willing to seek—those with open hearts and searching minds.

Our desire for “more proof” can sometimes be a guise for something deeper: a desire to stay in control. A demand for unending evidence often masks our reluctance to submit our lives to a holy God. We may say we want to believe, but often we’re more comfortable holding onto the illusion of self-determination. Admitting that God’s way is true means surrendering to His authority—a step that can feel like losing our grip on our own destiny.

The rich man’s plea for “more” shows us that delaying faith can lead to missing out on the real opportunity to believe—right here, right now. Romans 1 reminds us that God’s nature is evident in creation, and Hebrews 11:6 tells us that “without faith, it is impossible to please God.” Faith begins where control ends, and sometimes our quest for “more proof” only keeps us from seeing the truth that’s already evident.

In our hearts, the question isn’t whether there’s enough evidence. It’s whether we’re willing to act on it—and willing to yield. Today, ask yourself: am I holding back because I truly need more proof, or am I reluctant to give up my own way? God has shown us enough to trust Him. Now, we must decide whether we will.

He Who Dies With the Most Toys Still Dies

Growing up as a millennial who often identified with Gen-X culture, I vividly remember the iconic “No Fear” t-shirts that were all the rage in the 90s. One slogan stuck with me: “He who dies with the most toys still dies.” At the time, it seemed like a clever pushback against the materialism of the culture around me, but there was more truth in it than I realized. It calls out the futility of measuring life by our possessions.

Jesus addresses this very issue in Luke 12:22-34 when He challenges His followers to stop worrying about what they’ll eat or wear. He points out that, in life, we often want more than we need. This isn’t just about greed; it’s about a deeper issue—trust. Instead of trusting that God will provide for us, we often rely on ourselves, stockpiling resources in the hope that we’ll feel secure. Like the rich fool in Luke 12:16-21, we build bigger barns, gather more, and look to our possessions for peace. But even if we gain everything we think we need, it’s still not enough, because deep down, we don’t trust that God’s provision is sufficient.

We’re not all that different from the rich fool. We live in a culture that tells us security comes from having “enough”—enough money, enough success, enough recognition. The problem is that our definition of “enough” keeps changing. When we focus on accumulating more, we’re really saying that God isn’t enough for us. We don’t trust Him to give us what we need, so we try to take care of ourselves.

Jesus offers a better way. He tells us to seek first God’s Kingdom and trust that everything else will fall into place. What He promises isn’t a life of luxury, but a life free from the constant anxiety of trying to secure ourselves. Faith is trusting that God knows our needs better than we do—and that, ultimately, our treasure isn’t in what we can accumulate here on earth. It’s in heaven, where no amount of wealth or possessions can ever compare.

At the end of the day, the slogan still holds true: “He who dies with the most toys still dies.” But for those of us who trust in God’s provision, we’ve found something better than toys. We’ve found true peace, true security, and a treasure that will last for eternity.

Prayer 101 with Professor Jesus

Prayer was one of the most profound gifts that Jesus left to His followers, and He didn’t leave us without guidance. In fact, He taught us exactly how to pray in both Matthew and Luke’s Gospels, offering us a template that goes beyond mere words. It shows the heart and posture we should have in our communication with God. But is this prayer meant to be a formula we repeat, or does it highlight the essential attributes our own prayers should reflect?

When Jesus teaches us to pray with the words “Our Father,” He sets the foundation: prayer begins with relationship. God is not some distant deity, but our loving Father. This familial term invites us into a close, intimate space with the Creator of the universe. But it’s not all about us, is it? The phrase continues, “hallowed be Your name.” We are reminded to approach God with reverence, seeking His glory above all else. This balance of intimacy and reverence is crucial—prayer isn’t just casual conversation; it’s communion with the Almighty.

As we move through the Lord’s Prayer, we see a pattern emerge: acknowledge God’s holiness, align ourselves with His kingdom purposes, ask for daily sustenance, and seek forgiveness while extending it to others. This pattern shapes the priorities of prayer. Jesus is showing us that prayer isn’t simply about rattling off requests. It’s about inviting God’s kingdom into our hearts and lives, shaping our desires to match His.

What’s more, Jesus’ teaching on prayer doesn’t stop with the Lord’s Prayer. He goes on to compare God to a neighbor who is initially reluctant to help but finally gives in to persistent knocking (Luke 11:5-8). At first glance, this comparison can seem strange, even irreverent. Why liken God to a reluctant neighbor? Jesus is not saying that God is annoyed by our prayers, but rather highlighting the power of persistence. The point is clear: even a grumpy neighbor eventually responds to persistence. How much more will our loving Father hear us when we come to Him in prayer?

Persistence, reverence, alignment with God’s will, and trust in His provision—these are the marks of prayer that Jesus teaches us. It’s not about mindless repetition, nor is it about manipulating outcomes. Instead, it’s about being deeply rooted in relationship with God, seeking His will, and trusting Him to provide.

When we look at Jesus’ other prayers in the Gospels, such as His prayer in Gethsemane, the same elements are present. Even in His darkest hour, Jesus submits to the Father’s will, trusting in the goodness of God’s plan even when it meant His own suffering. This pattern of trust, surrender, and persistence permeates all of Jesus’ prayers, giving us a clear model for our own.

Ultimately, prayer isn’t about getting what we want. It’s about becoming the kind of people God can use to bring about His kingdom. We pray not to change God’s mind, but to align ourselves with His heart.

When Faith Isn’t Enough

There’s a popular verse that says faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains (Matthew 17:20). So what happens when someone prays in faith—believing with all their heart for a miracle—only to find that their mountain doesn’t move? What do we say to the person who truly believes for healing, only to lose a loved one to cancer, or to watch their own health fail? When the Bible says “the prayer of a righteous person avails much” (James 5:16), how do we reconcile that with unanswered prayer?

For many Christians, these are heart-wrenching moments of crisis. Faith feels like it’s failed, but the reality is far more complex. Prayer, faith, and God’s purposes are not transactional but relational. And just because a specific answer doesn’t come doesn’t mean faith is irrelevant—it just means God’s plan is greater.

Jesus Himself dealt with this tension. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He prayed for the cup of suffering to be taken from Him (Matthew 26:39), but He also prayed for the Father’s will to be done above all. This shows us that faith is not about manipulating outcomes to fit our desires, but about trusting God’s greater will, even when it contradicts our hopes.

The crux of the issue is understanding that faith isn’t a guarantee for our specific desires but trust in God’s perfect plan. A Molinist perspective sees God’s sovereignty and human free will in harmony. God, in His infinite wisdom, knows all possible outcomes. He sees not just our immediate suffering but the eternal good that He is working through it. When we pray in faith, we are invited to participate in God’s will—not to command it.

Jesus performed countless miracles during His earthly ministry, but even He did not heal everyone or remove every obstacle His followers faced. The Apostle Paul pleaded three times for God to remove a thorn in his flesh, and God’s answer was “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Faith isn’t about always getting what we ask for—it’s about receiving God’s grace in all situations, trusting that His will is good.

So what do we say to the person whose prayer seems unanswered? We remind them that God’s will is ultimately for our eternal good, and that His plans reach far beyond what we can see or understand. The promise of the Gospel is not a comfortable, pain-free life, but the hope of eternal glory (Romans 8:18). In the meantime, God often uses suffering to deepen our faith, grow our character, and reveal His strength in our weakness.

Does faith play a determinative role in prayer? Yes, but only in concert with God’s will. Even the smallest faith is effective, not because of the size of our faith, but because of the size of our God. The mountains in our lives may not always move the way we expect, but the God who made the mountains is always with us.

Faith, ultimately, is trust—trust that God is good, even when the outcome is not what we hoped for. And in the end, for the Christian, death itself is not defeat but the final victory. Physical healing may not always come, but ultimate healing—eternal life with God—awaits all who trust in Him. Faith isn’t just for this life; it’s for the life to come.

The Rock and the Stumbling Block: Lessons from Peter’s Journey

In Matthew 16:13-23, we see one of the most remarkable shifts in a disciple’s relationship with Jesus. It begins with Simon Peter’s stunning confession that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. Jesus blesses Peter and renames him: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (v.18). But just moments later, Peter rebukes Jesus for predicting His suffering and death, and Jesus responds with one of the harshest rebukes in Scripture: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns” (v.23).

How do we reconcile these two events? How can Peter, in one moment, be called the foundation of the future church, and in the next, be likened to Satan? These contrasting scenes reveal deep truths about Peter’s journey and the tension in our own Christian lives.

When Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah, he is making a profound statement that demonstrates divine revelation. Jesus emphasizes this by saying, “flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” (v.17). The name change from Simon to Peter (meaning “rock”) symbolizes stability and strength, qualities that will eventually characterize Peter’s leadership in the early church. Jesus’ promise to build His church on Peter is not simply about the man, but about the confession of faith that Peter makes—that Jesus is the Christ.

This moment is a picture of how God often works in our lives: He reveals truths to us and calls us to things we cannot fully grasp in the moment. Peter’s new name is a sign of the leadership role he will grow into, but it doesn’t mean he is fully formed or without weakness. This is crucial for understanding what follows.

Right after Jesus tells the disciples that He must suffer and die, Peter—likely filled with fear and confusion—takes Him aside and rebukes Him: “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” (v.22). Peter’s reaction, while emotionally understandable, is a rejection of Jesus’ mission. He cannot reconcile the idea of a suffering Messiah with his expectations of a victorious one. But by opposing Jesus’ path to the cross, Peter is unknowingly aligning himself with the same temptation Jesus faced in the wilderness—one that would have Him avoid suffering and take a shortcut to glory.

Jesus’ rebuke of Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” is not a dismissal of Peter as His disciple but a sharp reminder of the danger of thinking from a purely human perspective. Jesus had just called Peter a “rock,” but in this moment, Peter becomes a “stumbling block.” The Greek word here, skandalon, refers to something that causes someone to trip. Peter, in his attempt to protect Jesus from suffering, becomes an obstacle to God’s plan of salvation.

Peter’s journey in this passage reflects the Christian experience in many ways. First, like Peter, we often receive divine revelation about who Jesus is and what He calls us to, but we may not fully understand the cost or the process. Peter wanted the glory of the Kingdom without the suffering of the cross. How often do we desire the benefits of following Jesus without embracing the hardships or sacrifices?

Second, Peter’s misstep shows us that it’s possible to be both called by God and still get things wrong. Jesus didn’t retract His promise to build the church on Peter after the rebuke. This is an important reminder: even when we fail, God’s calling on our lives remains. Jesus didn’t discard Peter for his misunderstanding; instead, He corrected him and continued to disciple him.

Finally, this passage teaches us that following Jesus means having “in mind the concerns of God, not human concerns” (v.23). It’s easy to be like Peter, to try to fit God’s plans into our limited perspective. But discipleship requires us to trust Jesus’ wisdom, even when it doesn’t align with our expectations. Peter thought he was helping Jesus by telling Him to avoid suffering, but in reality, he was working against God’s redemptive plan. Similarly, we might resist hardship in our own lives, not realizing that God often uses trials to shape us and accomplish His purposes.

Just as Peter had to learn that God’s ways are not his ways, we, too, must submit to Jesus’ lead, even when it takes us to uncomfortable or difficult places. The “rock” Peter would become was formed through a process of refinement, a journey of stumbling and restoration that mirrors the Christian walk.

Why Isn’t God More Obvious?

It’s a question that people have asked for centuries: If God exists, why isn’t He more obvious? We long for unmistakable signs—something dramatic to shake us out of doubt or unbelief. But this very demand for a sign is addressed by Jesus Himself in both Mark 8:11-13 and Matthew 16:1-4. When the Pharisees approached Jesus, demanding a sign from heaven to prove who He was, His response was blunt: “No sign will be given to you except the sign of Jonah.” Essentially, Jesus was saying that if they couldn’t see what was already in front of them, no further proof would change their minds.

Why, then, does Jesus reject the Pharisees’ request for a sign, and what does that say about us today? First, we have to understand that the Pharisees weren’t looking for evidence out of an earnest desire to believe. They had already seen countless miracles—healings, exorcisms, and even resurrections—but refused to acknowledge the significance of what was happening. The request for a sign wasn’t about seeking truth; it was a way to test or trap Jesus, hoping to discredit Him. Their hearts were hardened, and even the clearest revelation wouldn’t have softened them.

Jesus’ response was not an unwillingness to demonstrate His power but rather a statement that God’s work cannot be reduced to spectacle. He had already shown them who He was through His life and ministry, and yet they remained blind. This is why the “sign of Jonah”—a reference to His future resurrection—was the ultimate sign they would receive. If they couldn’t see the truth in His words and works, not even the resurrection would open their eyes.

This speaks directly to the question of why God isn’t more obvious. In many ways, He is obvious. The beauty and order of creation, the intricacy of the human conscience, the life and death of Jesus, and the power of Scripture are all profound revelations of God. But like the Pharisees, many of us demand something more, not because we lack evidence, but because we struggle with the implications of surrendering to that evidence. The desire for a more “obvious” God often stems from a reluctance to submit to Him.

The issue, then, is not God’s hiddenness but our willingness to see Him. We may claim to seek clarity, but the deeper question is whether we truly want to find Him. As Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matthew 5:8).

In a world filled with distractions, it’s easy to look past the everyday ways that God reveals Himself. We may not get the signs we think we need, but we have something better: the life of Christ, the testimony of Scripture, and the witness of transformed lives.

So, why isn’t God more obvious? Perhaps the better question is: Are we willing to see Him as He has revealed Himself? If we continually ask for more signs without acting on what we’ve already been given, we’re not so different from the Pharisees. And just as Jesus called them to repentance, He calls us to trust what has already been shown—the cross, the resurrection, and His ongoing work in the world.

Looking Isn’t Seeing, and Hearing Isn’t Listening

The disciples’ experience on the stormy sea teaches us a profound truth: we can look right at something and not truly see it. In Matthew 13, Jesus tells parables, and while the crowds hear Him, few really listen. Similarly, on the boat in Luke 8, the disciples see Jesus perform miracles but don’t fully understand what they’re witnessing. Even though they’d already seen Jesus heal the sick and cast out demons, they still didn’t expect Him to calm the storm with just a word. When the wind died down, they were shocked: “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey Him!” (Luke 8:25).

The first lesson here is that it’s okay not to understand everything we see or hear at first. Like the disciples, we may have moments where we look at the world or even at God’s work and find ourselves confused. We might wonder why things happen the way they do or question God’s plans. That’s natural. But the key is what the disciples did next—they asked questions. Jesus’ closest followers were allowed to ask, to seek clarity about the parables and the mysteries of the Kingdom. When we seek God, asking questions and searching for understanding, we open ourselves up to receiving answers in time.

This brings us to the second takeaway: we must trust Jesus in the storms of life, even when we don’t fully understand. The disciples’ fear of the storm mirrored their fear of uncertainty—how could Jesus allow this to happen? But Jesus wasn’t simply focused on their safety; He was focused on their faith. He rebukes them for their lack of it, saying, “Where is your faith?” (Luke 8:25). Jesus never promised a storm-free life, but He did promise that He would be with us in the storm, and that’s where trust comes in.

William Lane Craig once said that God’s ultimate goal is not to provide a “comfortable home for His human pets,” but to accomplish His kingdom purposes, which sometimes means allowing difficulty. This perspective transforms our expectations. We may not have an easy life, but we know that God’s promises are trustworthy, and His goals go beyond our immediate comfort—they’re about His eternal Kingdom.

Just as the disciples didn’t understand at first how Jesus could have control over the forces of nature, we don’t always see how God is working in the chaos of our lives. But we do know enough: Jesus is with us, and His plans are good. In time, everything will be made clear, just as a lamp is brought out to shine and illuminate the darkness (Mark 4:21-23).

So, when we don’t understand, let’s keep asking questions, and let’s trust Him through the storm. After all, as Paul said, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8)—a far greater comfort than any temporary earthly relief.

Crushing Anxiety: Jesus’ Challenge to a Control-Obsessed Culture

Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 6:34 to “not worry about tomorrow” may seem nearly impossible to apply in today’s fast-paced, future-oriented culture. The demands of work, family, finances, and even church life often leave us anxious about what lies ahead. But this command speaks just as powerfully now as it did to His original audience. In their day, many struggled to meet daily needs, and the future brought uncertainty. Yet Jesus called them, and us, to trust in God’s provision for every day rather than letting tomorrow’s worries rob us of today’s peace.

The anxiety that many of us carry is often a symptom of a deeper issue: our desire for control. We plan meticulously, hoping to safeguard against uncertainty, but when the unexpected happens, the illusion of control crumbles. Jesus’ instruction is a reminder that no matter how well we plan, we can never truly control tomorrow. Instead, He invites us to rest in the knowledge that God holds both today and tomorrow in His hands. It’s not a call to irresponsibility or carelessness but to faith that relinquishes the need to micromanage every outcome.

Jesus provides the antidote to this anxious striving by pointing us toward the care of the Father. He paints a vivid picture of God’s provision in the natural world, how He feeds the birds and clothes the lilies (Matthew 6:26-30), and asks us to trust that we are worth even more to Him. This trust allows us to focus on the present, embracing the moments we are given without being paralyzed by fears of what the future might hold.

This lesson challenges us deeply. In a culture driven by calendars, clocks, and deadlines, Jesus offers a counter-cultural way of living. Instead of obsessing over the uncertainties of tomorrow, we are invited to live each day fully, leaning on God’s grace and provision. Planning is not the problem; it’s when our plans turn into anxieties that we step away from trust. Jesus knew what it was like to be surrounded by demands, yet He continually withdrew to be with the Father, refusing to let the world dictate His peace.

This call to trust extends beyond simply easing our own anxiety; it shapes how we serve others. When we aren’t consumed with worry about the future, we are freed to love, serve, and give more generously in the present. Our confidence in God’s provision becomes a testimony to those around us, pointing to a hope that transcends human concerns.

Jesus’ teaching challenges us to let go of our attempts to control the future and place our trust in God. Each day has its own troubles, but it also has its own grace. As we learn to rest in that grace, we reflect a deeper faith that trusts God for tomorrow—because He’s already there.