Tag: Jesus

A Greater Priesthood

In Hebrews 7, the author pauses to unpack the story of Melchizedek, a mysterious figure from Genesis. At first glance, Melchizedek’s brief appearance as “king of Salem” and “priest of God Most High” might seem like a random historical footnote, but there’s so much more going on. The writer of Hebrews uses Melchizedek to show us something profound about Jesus and what His priesthood means for us.

Melchizedek is unique. He’s both a king and a priest—two roles that were strictly separate under the old covenant. Kings came from David’s family line, while priests descended from Aaron. But Melchizedek doesn’t fit into either category. He appears with no genealogy, no record of birth or death, and the author of Hebrews sees this as a picture of Jesus—eternal and unlike any other priest.

Here’s why this matters. In the Old Testament, priests acted as go-betweens, offering sacrifices to cover the people’s sins. But their work was temporary and incomplete. Sacrifices had to be made over and over because they could never fully deal with sin. Jesus, however, offers something better. His priesthood, like Melchizedek’s, doesn’t depend on human ancestry or temporary rules. It’s eternal. And instead of offering sacrifices repeatedly, Jesus gave Himself—once and for all—to make a way for us to be right with God forever.

The connection to Melchizedek isn’t just an interesting Bible trivia fact. It’s a reminder that Jesus’s priesthood was part of God’s plan all along. When Abraham, the father of faith, gave Melchizedek a tenth of his spoils and received his blessing, it pointed forward to something greater: a priesthood that’s not bound by human limitations. Jesus is that greater priest, and His work changes everything.

What does this mean for us? It means we have someone who represents us before God perfectly and eternally. It means we don’t need to rely on our own efforts to get right with God or wonder if we’ve done enough. Jesus’s sacrifice is enough. It’s finished. And because of Him, we can approach God with confidence, knowing we’re loved and forgiven.

It also challenges us to move beyond a rule-based faith. The old covenant—with its rituals and sacrifices—pointed toward Jesus. Now that He’s come, we’re invited into something far better: a relationship with the living God. Jesus’s priesthood means we’re not just forgiven; we’re also brought near to God, adopted into His family, and given hope that lasts forever.

The story of Melchizedek reminds us that God’s plan has always been bigger than we can imagine. It’s a plan that brings freedom, forgiveness, and peace. Let’s rest in that truth today and live with the confidence that Jesus has done it all.

IN, Not FOR

Philippians 2:15 says, “Do everything without complaining” and verse 17 adds, “I will rejoice even if I lose my life, pouring it out like a liquid offering to God, just like your faithful service is an offering to God. And I want all of you to share that joy.”

We are called to be joyful in all circumstances. But we are a fickle people and too often we turn into the freed Israelites in the desert — whining constantly. Finding things to grumble and complain about. Yeah we’re free, but the food is terrible! That’s why a two-week trip took 40 years! I’m reminded of this classic episode of The Ren & Stimpy Show entitled “Stimpy’s Invention”. In this particular episode Stimpy — the loveable simpleton — creates a ‘happy helmet’ that forces his pal Ren — the irritable schemer — to always be happy. Well, as the episode unfolds Ren manages to eventually destroy and free himself from the helmet and is boiling with rage. Then, from out of nowhere, he breaks out into a beaming smile and declares that he LOVES being angry and thanks his pal Stimpy for show him that. This outrageous scenario (like most comedy) is especially hilarious because it shines a mirror on us…

WE love being angry.

It is our default position. In fact, if you walked past and angry person and a deliriously happy person would be more likely to give the happy one a side-eye ‘what’s wrong with HIM’ look! But we should live lives marked by love. Lives marked by joy. Lives that demonstrate the hope that is within us. Lives which demonstrate that hope SO loudly that it causes people to ask us ‘why’. Do we do that?

Moreover, what do we do when our situation is trying or difficult or exhausting or overwhelming? How do we be joyful for that?? But here’s the thing; I don’t think we need to be joyful FOR all circumstances, we need to be joyful IN all circumstances. The situation we find ourselves in might be terrible, even unbearable. But our joy is in our hope and our hope is not in this world. Our hope is in Jesus. The Jesus who has overcome the world. The Jesus who is causing all things to work together for the good of those who love Him.

Sometimes those valleys are the consequences of sin’s corruption in a fallen world. Sometimes the valleys are caused by poor choices we’ve made. Sometimes the valleys are God showing us something we need to learn. But no matter WHY we are there, it’s important to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus. We WILL emerge from the valley eventually. Either here on earth, or on the other side in glory. And THAT is what we are joyful for. The eternal promise.

That’s why we can be joyful IN all circumstances, even if we are not joyful FOR all circumstances.

Good Enough? Not Even Close!

In the opening chapters of Galatians, Paul confronts a troubling idea: that righteousness before God can be earned through human effort. For some early Christians, the path to holiness seemed tied to strict adherence to the Mosaic law—a rigorous system that no one could keep perfectly. Paul knew firsthand how impossible it was to attain righteousness this way. The law, as Paul explains, is not a ladder to God; rather, it’s a mirror, showing us just how far we fall short.

This is why Paul’s words still ring true: the law wasn’t given to save us but to reveal our need for a Savior. If it were possible to be “good enough” on our own, then Jesus’ sacrifice would be unnecessary. But in our imperfection, Christ’s perfect obedience becomes our saving grace. Jesus fulfilled the law in ways no one else could, and because of our relationship with Him, we’re declared righteous—not by our actions, but by His.

When we live with this understanding, good works take on a new meaning. They’re not a checklist for salvation or proof of our worth but rather a response of gratitude for what Jesus has already done. We live righteously because we’re loved and saved, not in an attempt to become loved or saved. This mindset frees us from the endless cycle of trying to “measure up” and invites us to rest in the assurance that Christ has already bridged the gap.

Let’s not allow ourselves to be drawn back into performance-based religion. Instead, let’s remember that our worth is found in Christ’s fulfillment of the law and His deep, unwavering love for us. We live righteously not out of obligation but out of joy, thankful for a salvation we could never earn but freely receive.

In Defense of Peter

The account of Peter in Gethsemane is a stirring reminder of how human we are, even when we deeply desire to follow Jesus. Peter, who had walked with Christ, witnessed miracles, and even claimed he would follow Him to the death, shows us that the spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak (Matthew 26:41). We might critique Peter for his actions that night—falling asleep, impulsively wielding a sword, and then ultimately denying Jesus—but perhaps, his story is also ours. In Peter, we find relatable lessons that urge us toward deeper discipline, patience, and boldness in our faith.

At Gethsemane, Jesus invited Peter, James, and John to keep watch with Him during His agonizing prayer. But Peter’s spirit gave way to fatigue, and three times he fell asleep as Jesus wrestled with the reality of the cross. In these moments, we see a call to better discipline. Just as Peter needed discipline to stay awake and pray, we, too, are called to “watch and pray” that we do not fall into temptation. Distractions and weariness can easily pull us away from prayer and obedience, but discipline helps us continually seek God’s strength, especially in trying times.

Next, we see Peter’s struggle with patience. When the soldiers arrived to arrest Jesus, Peter acted instinctively, drawing his sword to protect his Lord. He acted out of zeal, but it wasn’t what Jesus had asked of him. Jesus had already made it clear that He must go to the cross, yet Peter acted on impulse, unwilling to wait for the Lord’s guidance. Here, we learn the importance of waiting on God, resisting the urge to take matters into our own hands. Jesus often leads us through unexpected paths, and patience allows us to stay in step with His timing, trusting that He has a purpose beyond what we can see.

Finally, after Jesus was arrested, Peter’s courage seemed to fade. Standing by the fire, surrounded by strangers, Peter denied knowing Jesus—not once, but three times. His boldness faltered when it was most needed. It is easy to judge Peter’s fear, but it’s also a moment to recognize our own hesitations to fully identify with Jesus. True boldness means openly claiming our faith, even when it feels risky. We may face fear, awkwardness, or discomfort, but Jesus is our strength. Through Him, we find the courage to stand firm, even when the stakes are high.

Peter’s journey in Gethsemane reminds us that Jesus isn’t looking for flawless followers—He seeks willing hearts. Yes, we may stumble as Peter did, but God’s grace meets us in our weakness. As we grow in discipline, patience, and boldness, we find that Jesus is always there, shaping us into people who are prepared to follow Him, even when it’s hard. Let’s remember that Jesus restored Peter after his denials and used him to build the Church. In the same way, He is patient with us, guiding us into lives that glorify Him, no matter how many times we fall.

The Height of Arrogance

In Matthew 21, Mark 12, and Luke 20, Jesus tells a powerful parable of a landowner who leases his vineyard to tenants. When harvest time comes, he sends servants to collect his share, but the tenants beat, stone, and kill each one. Finally, he sends his son, thinking they’ll surely respect him. Instead, they plot to kill the son too, hoping to seize his inheritance. Furious, the landowner ultimately judges these tenants, killing them and giving the vineyard to others who will honor him.

What’s shocking about this story isn’t just the violence—it’s the tenants’ absolute arrogance. These tenants are metaphorical for Israel’s leaders who repeatedly rejected God’s prophets, and finally, God’s Son. Their actions expose an entitlement to God’s blessings, assuming they could reject His ways yet still keep His favor.

Jesus’ parable confronts us, too. In what ways do we ignore or downplay the cost of grace? It’s easy to take God’s mercy for granted, to feel entitled to His patience, assuming His favor even when we resist Him. But God’s grace is not a license to disregard His voice. To persistently ignore Him and expect blessing shows a heart not yielded to God but steeped in pride.

This parable calls us to humility, to recognize that God’s mercy is not something we can demand or abuse. It’s an invitation to listen, repent, and align our hearts with His. Ultimately, God’s grace is abundantly generous, but it’s meant to transform us, not excuse us.

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.

What is the Unforgivable Sin?

When Jesus warned about the unforgivable sin, it raised a question that has troubled many believers: What exactly is this sin that cannot be forgiven? As we look deeper into His words from Mark 3:28-30 and Matthew 12:31-32, we see that He refers to “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit” as something from which there is no return.

Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is not a fleeting thought, a moment of doubt, or even a single bad decision. It’s a deliberate, hardened rejection of the Holy Spirit’s testimony about Jesus. In the specific context of Mark 3, Jesus is responding to the Pharisees who accuse Him of casting out demons by the power of Satan. Essentially, they are witnessing the power of God right in front of them and, instead of accepting it, they attribute it to the devil.

This sin is so serious because it reflects a heart that is completely closed off to God’s work, refusing to recognize His grace and power. When we reject the very Spirit who brings conviction, repentance, and forgiveness, we cut ourselves off from the possibility of being forgiven. The Spirit’s work is to point to Jesus, to testify of His salvation, and when that testimony is consistently, willfully rejected, we are left with no other means of reconciliation with God.

But what does this mean for us today? It’s important to understand that this sin is not about a specific word or action in a moment of weakness. Blaspheming the Holy Spirit is about a continual, unrepentant stance against God. It’s choosing to remain in opposition to Him, attributing His good work to evil, and closing your heart to His grace.

The thought of an unforgivable sin can be unsettling, but if you are concerned that you’ve committed it, that very concern shows you have not. A heart hardened to the Holy Spirit wouldn’t be troubled by such thoughts. The unforgivable sin is a conscious, final rejection of God’s truth, where the heart becomes so resistant that repentance no longer seems possible.

Consider this: the Bible says that “the words you speak will either acquit you or condemn you” (Matthew 12:37). What are the words of a repentant heart? Confession and humility. What are the words of a hardened heart? Denial and rejection. The unforgivable sin is to stand against the work of the Spirit in such a way that, instead of confessing Christ, we attribute His power to evil.

The good news is that for those who turn to God, no sin is beyond His reach. For all the fear that this warning might stir, Jesus extends forgiveness to anyone willing to repent. He is slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and ready to forgive those who seek Him. The unforgivable sin isn’t something that sneaks up on us — it’s a deliberate, hardened choice to turn away from God, even when His truth is made plain.

Forgiven Little, Loving Less: Why You Might Be Missing the Full Picture

In Luke 7:36-50, we find the story of a sinful woman who interrupts a dinner at the house of a Pharisee named Simon. She falls at the feet of Jesus, weeping, and pours expensive perfume on His feet, wiping them with her hair. Simon is shocked that Jesus would allow this woman, known for her sinful reputation, to touch Him. But Jesus uses this moment to teach a profound lesson about forgiveness and love.

Jesus tells a parable about two debtors: one who owes a large debt and another who owes a smaller one. Both debts are forgiven, and Jesus asks Simon which of the two will love the creditor more. Simon answers that it is the one who had the larger debt forgiven. Jesus agrees and says to Simon, “He who is forgiven little, loves little” (Luke 7:47).

This story illustrates an important truth about sin, forgiveness, and love. The woman’s extravagant love for Jesus stems from her awareness of the great debt she owed—her sins were many, and her forgiveness was much. But Simon, who saw himself as righteous, believed he owed little to Jesus. His view of sin was small, and as a result, his love for Jesus was shallow.

A Theology of Sin

At its core, sin is not just bad behavior; it is a rebellion against God, a failure to meet His standard of holiness (Romans 3:23). All of us are born into this state, separated from God (Ephesians 2:1-3). Sin is more than just breaking moral rules—it is the rejection of God’s authority, resulting in both personal and cosmic consequences.

Throughout the Bible, we see the seriousness of sin:

Isaiah 59:2 explains that sin creates a barrier between us and God, cutting off our relationship with Him.
Romans 6:23 tells us that the wages of sin is death—spiritual separation from God that leads to eternal separation unless reconciled through Christ.
James 2:10 reminds us that even if we fail in just one part of the law, we are guilty of breaking all of it.

The Bible’s portrayal of sin makes it clear that every human being is in a state of great need—each of us is a debtor to God. Sin isn’t a small misstep; it’s a complete severance of our relationship with God, one that can only be restored through the grace extended in Christ. Without this understanding, we are likely to minimize the gift of forgiveness that God offers.

A Small View of Sin Leads to a Small Love for God

Jesus’ point to Simon—and to us—is that the way we view our sin directly impacts how we relate to God. When we minimize sin, we minimize the need for God’s grace. This results in a shallow, distant relationship with Him. If we think our sin is small, we’ll see Jesus as little more than a moral teacher or good example. But if we understand the depth of our need, we will respond with deep gratitude, just as the woman in Luke 7 did.

The truth is, we all owe a great debt—whether we realize it or not. The woman in this story knew her need for forgiveness, and her love for Jesus reflected her awareness of how much she had been forgiven. Simon, in contrast, saw no great need for forgiveness and, consequently, showed little love.

Why This is Good News

Here’s the beauty of this story: Jesus doesn’t rebuke the woman for her past or even for the nature of her sins. Instead, He honors her act of love and forgives her because of her faith. This tells us that no matter how great our sin, God’s forgiveness is greater. But it also serves as a reminder that if we don’t fully acknowledge our need for forgiveness, we may miss out on the depth of the relationship God wants to have with us.

The challenge for us today is to ask: How do I view my sin? Do I minimize it, thinking of myself as mostly good and only in need of minor forgiveness? Or do I recognize the profound debt I owe—a debt that Christ paid in full? Those who are forgiven much, love much. And the truth is, we have all been forgiven much. If we fail to see the greatness of God’s grace, it is because we have too small a view of sin.

The great news is that we are not left to bear the weight of our sin. Jesus has already borne it for us. When we understand this, it transforms our relationship with God, just as it did for the woman at the feet of Jesus. The more we grasp the depth of our forgiveness, the more we will love Him in return.

Worship Without Walls: Making Peace with Others

Reading through Mark 3, Luke 6, and Matthew 5, we come across a powerful teaching that echoes across all three Gospels: the importance of reconciliation with others before offering anything to God. In Matthew 5:23-24, Jesus says, “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.”

This teaching is profound, challenging our natural inclination to put religious rituals ahead of relational harmony. It reminds us that true worship cannot be separated from the condition of our hearts and the state of our relationships. Let’s explore why Jesus emphasizes this and how it applies to us today.

In Jewish culture, the offering of sacrifices was central to worship. The altar was a place where individuals connected with God, seeking forgiveness, thanksgiving, and blessing. Yet, in this passage, Jesus places reconciliation with others above these sacred acts. Why? Because for Jesus, relationships reflect our understanding of God’s love and grace. Worship becomes hollow if we harbor bitterness or resentment toward others.

Imagine coming to worship on a Sunday morning with a heavy heart, filled with anger or frustration toward a family member or friend. No matter how beautiful the songs are or how fervent your prayers, something feels off. That’s because unresolved conflict creates a barrier not only between you and others but also between you and God.

Jesus’ instruction is radical because it forces us to prioritize peacemaking. Notice that the onus is not just on those who have wronged others but also on those who have been wronged. We are called to make the first move, to seek reconciliation even if we feel justified in our hurt.

Why is this so important? Because in God’s kingdom, reconciliation mirrors the gospel itself. Just as Christ reconciled us to God through His sacrifice, we are to embody that same heart of reconciliation in our relationships. The act of forgiving and asking for forgiveness is a reflection of the cross, where Jesus brought peace between humanity and God.

Jesus’ teaching challenges the religious tendency to separate the “sacred” from the “ordinary.” We may think that offering a gift at the altar or participating in a church service is a purely spiritual act, disconnected from our daily lives. But Jesus makes it clear that authentic worship is deeply connected to how we treat others. If there’s enmity between us and a brother or sister, our worship is incomplete.

In our modern context, this might look like making amends with someone before taking communion or resolving an ongoing conflict before serving in ministry. God desires wholeness in our hearts and in our relationships. He longs for worship that is not only vertical but also horizontal—reaching out to those around us with love, grace, and forgiveness.

As we reflect on Jesus’ words, let’s ask ourselves: Is there someone I need to reconcile with? Are there any unresolved conflicts that are hindering my worship? God doesn’t want our offerings if our hearts are divided. He wants us to be at peace with one another.

This might mean sending a text, making a phone call, or sitting down for a difficult conversation. Whatever it takes, prioritize reconciliation. Only then will our worship be a true reflection of God’s grace and love.