Tag: Humility

Paul’s Lost Letter: Sometimes We Need to Be Rebuked

Rebuke isn’t something we naturally seek out. It stings, wounds our pride, and can leave us feeling vulnerable. But in 2 Corinthians 7, Paul shows us that rebuke—when done with love and a heart for restoration—has the power to bring life-changing results.

Paul refers to a letter he had written to the Corinthians, now lost to us, in which he rebuked them sharply. He admits he regretted sending it at first, knowing it caused them sorrow. But he also acknowledges that their sorrow wasn’t pointless; it was a godly sorrow that brought repentance and spiritual renewal. Instead of wallowing in shame or rejecting his words, the Corinthians allowed the rebuke to change them. They responded with zeal, clearing themselves of wrongdoing and realigning their hearts with God.

This passage teaches us a profound truth: rebuke, though uncomfortable, can be an incredible gift. Sometimes we need others to speak truth into our lives, pointing out blind spots or sin we’ve grown too comfortable with. Receiving rebuke requires humility, the willingness to admit we’re not always right, and the courage to change.

On the other hand, giving rebuke isn’t easy either. Paul didn’t relish the thought of confronting the Corinthians. He wrote with tears, not anger, because his goal wasn’t to hurt but to heal. True rebuke comes from a place of love, not superiority, and seeks restoration, not condemnation. It’s not about pointing out flaws to tear someone down but about calling them back to the fullness of life in Christ.

Ultimately, rebuke is a means of grace. When we lean into it, whether as the giver or the receiver, we experience the transforming work of the Gospel. It reminds us that God’s desire isn’t to leave us in our brokenness but to restore and renew us. Rebuke, though painful, is often the first step toward deeper fellowship with Him.

So how do you handle rebuke? Do you resist it, or do you allow it to refine you? Are you willing to lovingly confront others when God calls you to, even if it’s uncomfortable? Let’s remember that the goal is always restoration and the joy that comes when we align ourselves fully with God’s will.

Your Best Life Now

The title may give you pause, especially if you’ve heard it used in ways that promise a prosperity-focused, trouble-free existence. Yet as we turn to 2 Corinthians 6:4-13, Paul offers us a very different vision of what “your best life now” truly looks like. It’s not about ease or worldly success but about enduring with integrity and grace through every circumstance life throws at you.

Paul writes, “Rather, as servants of God, we have commended ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships, and distresses” (v. 4, NET). The list that follows is sobering: beatings, imprisonments, sleepless nights, hunger. It’s a far cry from the kind of life we might associate with the phrase “best life.” Yet Paul calls us to redefine success in light of the Gospel. To live your best life now is to live a life of faithfulness—no matter what.

This passage is not a call to seek suffering for its own sake but to rise above circumstances with integrity and steadfastness. Paul describes a life lived “in purity, in knowledge, in patience, in kindness, in the Holy Spirit, in genuine love” (v. 6). Even when surrounded by opposition, betrayal, or hardship, the call remains the same: to conduct ourselves in a way that reflects God’s character.

Why? Because how we live in the present carries eternal significance. The world may misunderstand, ridicule, or even persecute us, but our worth is not defined by worldly measures. Paul experienced being “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything” (v. 10). This paradox highlights a life deeply anchored in Christ, untouchable by external circumstances.

Here’s the challenge: How do we respond when life feels anything but “best”? When trials come, do we reflect the peace and power of the Spirit, or do we falter in fear and frustration? This isn’t about perfection but about growth—leaning into God’s grace to sustain us when our strength fails.

In verse 13, Paul exhorts the Corinthians, “open wide your hearts also.” The best life is one lived open to God and to others, vulnerable yet strong, humble yet bold. It’s not marked by worldly wealth or comfort but by the richness of a life lived in fellowship with Christ and His people.

So, yes, in Christ, you can live your best life now—but not in the way the world might expect. It’s a life of faithfulness, endurance, and hope, one that glorifies God in all circumstances and points others to Him. And as we endure in this life, we hold to the promise of eternal joy in the life to come.

Be Fully Present

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15, NET)

Paul’s exhortation in this verse is simple yet profoundly challenging. It calls us to a kind of empathy that goes beyond surface-level acknowledgment into full participation in the lives of others. In a world that often values efficiency over connection and distraction over attention, this command pushes us to slow down and truly engage with the people around us.

What does it mean to rejoice with someone who is rejoicing? Often, jealousy or comparison can creep in, dulling our ability to genuinely celebrate others’ blessings. Similarly, to weep with those who weep means more than offering a quick word of sympathy. It requires setting aside our comfort and opening our hearts to feel the weight of someone else’s sorrow.

Being fully present is more than just a relational skill—it’s a reflection of Christ. Jesus was the ultimate example of presence. In the joy of a wedding feast, He turned water into wine to enhance the celebration (John 2:1-11). In the depths of grief, He wept with Mary and Martha over Lazarus’s death, even though He knew resurrection was moments away (John 11:35). Jesus met people exactly where they were, without rushing to fix or judge but always fully engaged.

Paul’s instruction here fits into the larger framework of Romans 12, which begins with the call to present our bodies as a living sacrifice (Romans 12:1). Part of that sacrifice is giving our time, attention, and emotional investment to others. It’s an act of humility to set aside our agendas, our worries, and even our judgments to simply be with someone else in their moment—whether of joy or sorrow.

How often do we let distractions or self-interest keep us from being fully present? Do we listen to understand, or are we just waiting for our turn to speak? Do we celebrate someone’s success with genuine joy, or do we secretly compare their gain to our lack? Do we truly sit with those in pain, or are we quick to offer platitudes and move on?

Paul’s command is both an invitation and a challenge. To embody Christ’s love, we must be willing to step into the emotional realities of those around us. In doing so, we not only honor them but also worship God through our relationships.

Take a moment today to look around and ask: who in your life needs someone to rejoice with them? Who needs someone to weep with them? How can you set aside your distractions and enter into their moment with the love and presence of Christ?

Are You Protecting God’s Glory or Your Own?

The dramatic scene in Acts 19:23–41 paints a vivid picture of how the Gospel disrupts the power structures of the world. Paul’s ministry in Ephesus was so impactful that it began to undermine the worship of Artemis, the city’s central deity. But the uproar in the Ephesian theatre wasn’t driven by deep devotion to Artemis. Instead, it was fueled by financial loss and the potential erosion of influence. Demetrius the silversmith rallied others, worried that Paul’s teachings would not only ruin their trade but also diminish Ephesus’s status as the guardian of Artemis’s temple. Their reaction reveals that their real allegiance wasn’t to Artemis—it was to their own power and position.

How often do we find ourselves in the same trap? It’s easy to criticize the Ephesians, but their motivations are uncomfortably familiar. Do we make decisions to protect our influence or reputation? Are our choices shaped more by what maintains our comfort or standing than by what aligns with God’s will? Consider the times when serving God’s purposes would have cost you something. Did you hesitate because the price seemed too high?

Paul, in contrast, embodied the humility of Christ. He consistently laid down his own rights and desires to advance the Gospel, even when it meant hardship or rejection. This mirrors the attitude of Christ described in Philippians 2:6–8: “Though he existed in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself.” Jesus became nothing, willingly giving up His position so that we might share in His glory.

What would it look like for you to lay down your own power and position for the sake of Christ? Are you willing to let go of the things you hold onto most tightly—your reputation, your career, your influence? The Gospel invites us to become less so that Christ might become greater (John 3:30). It’s a hard calling, but it’s also a freeing one. When we stop striving to protect our own status, we find true security in the eternal treasure God offers.

The challenge is clear: let go of the things that keep you tethered to this world’s systems. Like Paul, be willing to risk it all for the sake of God’s kingdom. True glory doesn’t come from power or position in this life but from humbly following Christ, trusting that He will exalt you in His time (1 Peter 5:6).

Zeal Gone Awry

The trial of Jesus before the Sanhedrin is one of the most tragic displays of religious zeal gone wrong. Convinced of their duty to protect God’s honor, the religious leaders allowed their passions and mob mentality to override justice, mercy, and reason. What should have been a trial became a forum for slander, manipulation, and violence, with many of the leaders and bystanders becoming part of a vicious cycle. Jesus, the very person they were supposed to recognize as the Messiah, was instead labeled a blasphemer and beaten in their outrage.

We all have passions and causes we care deeply about. In fact, a righteous zeal can be powerful when we’re moved by a godly cause. But zeal without humility and discernment can lead us to the same dangers faced by the Sanhedrin. Their unwavering conviction left no room for compassion or introspection. How often do we see, even in ourselves, that good intentions and passionate defense of our beliefs can devolve into defensiveness, anger, or even cruelty when we feel challenged?

The actions of the Sanhedrin remind us to remain humble, recognizing that zeal for truth or righteousness must be tempered with God’s Spirit. Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek, to walk with humility, and to love even our enemies. When we lose sight of these teachings, our own zeal can go awry, blinding us to the heart of God’s message and turning us into people we would later be ashamed to recognize.

We’re called to balance conviction with compassion, courage with humility, and action with prayer. May we be passionate for God’s kingdom and its values, but may we also be vigilant, that we never sacrifice our character in the process. When our hearts are governed by the love of Christ, we can stand firm in the truth without losing our way to the passions that seek to rule us.

Humble, Not Hero

In Luke 22, Peter boldly declares that he’s ready to go to prison and even die for Jesus. It’s a passionate commitment, one that shows his desire to be faithful no matter what. But Jesus, in His wisdom, responds with words that pierce through Peter’s confidence: “I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.” Peter is certain of his loyalty, yet Jesus knows what’s coming.

How often do we, in a burst of conviction, declare all we will do for God? Like Peter, we can find ourselves wrapped up in a fervor that makes us feel invincible. Yet, there’s a powerful truth here: God doesn’t need our grand statements of loyalty; He wants our surrendered hearts. Instead of telling Him how much we’re willing to do, maybe we should be asking where He wants us to go, allowing Him to direct our steps.

In those moments when we’re tempted to make big promises to God, perhaps it’s more humble and honoring to pause, listen, and ask Him to use us however He sees fit. This doesn’t mean avoiding bold steps of faith. It simply means approaching our relationship with God from a posture of humility, acknowledging that He knows our limits and, just as He did for Peter, offers grace when we fall short.

Jesus intercedes for us, even now, knowing our frailties and loving us through them. He calls us not to be heroes in our own strength but to be faithful followers, trusting that He will work through our willing hearts. When we let go of the need to prove our devotion and embrace a quiet openness to God’s leading, we’re finally in a position to let His strength shine in our weakness.

Clean, But Not Clean Enough

In John 13, Jesus took a basin and towel to wash the disciples’ feet, a humbling act of service that challenged their understanding of cleanliness and purity. When Peter hesitated, Jesus gently reminded him that, while he was already “clean,” his feet still needed washing. Jesus wasn’t just talking about physical cleanliness—He was highlighting a truth about our walk of faith.

We’ve been made clean by Jesus’ sacrifice, accepted into His family, and freed from the power of sin. But like Peter and the disciples, we still walk through a world filled with brokenness, and inevitably, some of that dust clings to us. We may not need a full cleansing again, but we do need to keep coming to Jesus to have our feet washed. This humility of daily “cleansing” reminds us that our need for Jesus never goes away.

While we aim to live lives that honor God, we’re reminded that our strength doesn’t come from our own perfection. Instead, it comes from returning again and again to the One who washes us. He renews us, helping us release whatever shame, bitterness, or pride we may pick up as we move through life. Jesus’ love and grace restore us, grounding us in a peace that surpasses understanding.

So, as we walk forward today, let’s remember this beautiful invitation to come back to Jesus, knowing He is faithful to cleanse us. We’re already made new, yet in our ongoing journey, we need His touch each day. May we walk humbly, seeking His grace, and trusting that He never grows tired of washing our feet.

Title: Power vs. Responsibility: Thoughts on Christian Leadership

Christian leadership is fundamentally different from worldly leadership, where authority is often equated with power and influence. Jesus, however, flips this script, embodying and teaching a leadership style built on responsibility and service rather than control. In Mark 10, after James and John ask for places of honor, Jesus clarifies that greatness in His kingdom is marked by servanthood, not status: “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all” (Mark 10:43-44). In Matthew 20 and Luke 18, Jesus reinforces this servant-first mindset, revealing that real influence in God’s kingdom doesn’t depend on personal gain or ambition but on a commitment to the well-being of others.

Even Jesus Himself, the ultimate leader, demonstrates this humility and submission. Though He has been given “all authority in heaven and on earth” (Matthew 28:18), He attributes this authority to the Father’s will. He willingly submits to the Father, revealing that true authority is always accountable to God. This accountability isn’t about restriction but rather about anchoring leadership in divine responsibility. Jesus models that Christian leaders are responsible not only for leading others well but also for living under God’s guidance, accountable for how they steward the trust and responsibilities given to them.

The world measures leadership by power and control, but in God’s kingdom, leadership is defined by humility, service, and self-sacrifice. True Christian leadership is not an exercise in authority but an act of profound responsibility and accountability to God and others. As we seek to influence those around us, may we remember that we’re not called to make our own mark but to humbly serve in a way that reflects Jesus, our ultimate leader.

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.

Work the Hardest, Take the Least

In Luke 13:22-30 and 14:7-14, Jesus is both teaching and modeling a value that is deeply counter-cultural: the path to greatness in God’s kingdom is through humility, service, and selflessness. When the disciples are jockeying for position, and the crowd assumes that only the “qualified” will enter the kingdom, Jesus gives them a clear message—many who assume they’re first will find themselves last.

In these passages, Jesus first addresses the need to strive to enter the narrow door. The Greek verb used here, agonizomai, suggests a kind of intense, strenuous effort. It isn’t a matter of casual belief or superficial faith; it’s a dedicated pursuit that requires heart and soul. But even in the intensity of striving, Jesus goes on to say, we shouldn’t expect to take the highest seat.

In Luke 14:7-14, Jesus turns His attention to humility in social settings, giving a memorable illustration of guests at a banquet. Instead of seeking the place of honor, He instructs us to choose the least place, allowing the host to elevate us if he chooses. The kingdom, Jesus shows, is not about achieving high status but about taking on the role of the servant—the one who works hard without expectation of reward.

When we live with this humility, we free ourselves from the burden of recognition and avoid the risk of entitlement that Jesus warns can keep many out of the kingdom. Serving and loving others from the least position may seem unrewarding on the surface, but it aligns us with Jesus’ heart and reflects His sacrifice. And just as God exalts the humble, He promises to one day elevate those who took the lowest place in this life.

The challenge Jesus offers is this: When we’re eager to see growth or success, let’s not make it about ourselves. Instead, let’s “work the hardest and take the least,” joyfully serving others as we follow Jesus’ example. Only in letting go of the pursuit of self-gain do we find ourselves truly embracing kingdom values.