Category: Faith

Three CRIES, One Grace: My Journey TO LIFE in God

I didn’t choose God like picking a book off a shelf. Faith wasn’t a decision I mulled over—it was a lifeline I grabbed when the darkness of my soul nearly swallowed me whole. This is my story: three cries from a broken life, answered by one grace that remade me. It’s not neat, but it’s real—and if you’re searching for purpose, it’s for you too.

The Void That Defined Me

A gnawing emptiness shadowed me from the start. Childhood wasn’t a warm memory—it was a jagged edge, a void nothing could fill. Hobbies fizzled, distractions faded, and the world seemed to spit me out like Jonah from the whale. Schools branded me hopeless, a lost cause not worth the effort. Church folks tried to reel me in, but their Sunday smiles turned hollow by Monday—I saw the masks. Oddly, I found more truth among unbelievers, rough souls who didn’t judge me like the “righteous” did. Still, I was a misfit, adrift in a life that had no slot for me. Sin’s weight grew, a stranglehold tightening, and I teetered on the edge—ready to end it all.

The Light That Found Me

Then an accident pinned me down—bedridden, trapped, with nothing but time and a sealed Gideon’s Bible on the shelf. Curiosity cracked it open, and I tore into it like a starved man, devouring every page. The Gospels hit hardest, but I didn’t have some grand epiphany—not yet. I just ate, clueless, while God’s Word sank deep, an incorruptible seed (1 Peter 1:23). Days later, it broke loose: a heavenly shift—peace flooded in, the kind Jesus promised, “My peace I give unto you” (John 14:27). Joy surged, and my old crutches—cigarettes, alcohol, filthy words—turned sour. I didn’t pray a formula; grace crashed in unbidden, remaking me from the core.

That’s when I knew why I believe. He’s the light of all humanity (John 1:4), a brilliance only the broken can truly see. In my abyss, that light pierced through—not random, but personal, as if I’d been chosen, predestined for rescue (Eph. 1:4-5). It was God’s goodness, His grace, shattering my despair like dawn through a storm. I was famished, crushed by sin’s burden, and like a dying man lunging for bread, I grabbed it—the life I couldn’t conjure. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8), and I did. I tasted Him, and I’m changed forever.

The Cry That Birthed Me Anew

The shadows didn’t just weigh me down—they crushed me open. Weeping, I’d whisper, “Somebody help me!”—a plea from a soul collapsing under sin. That’s when the Father drew me (John 6:44). Jesus, the Great Physician, came for the brokenhearted (Luke 4:18), and my cry stirred His compassion. I wasn’t righteous or polished—I was a wreck, a child begging. The proud don’t need a Savior, but I did. He heard me, pulling me from the wreckage of my chaos.

Friends saw it: “This isn’t Bob.” The old me—ringleader of ruin—vanished. Those who thrived on my darkness ditched me; one called me a “good chap” gone astray. They drifted off, but I wasn’t alone—I’d been born of God (John 1:13). How do you wrap that in words? With man, it’s impossible; with God, it’s a miracle. I thought this was just for me, a fluke for the few, but no—salvation’s for all (Titus 2:11). I loved the shadows until they broke me. Jesus knocks on every heart (Rev. 3:20)—mine, yours, everyone’s. I was lost, now I’m found—because of Him.

A Call to the Searching

This isn’t a fairy tale for the chosen few—it’s a lifeline for the wrecked. If you feel that void, if darkness chokes you, cry out. Crack open His Word, taste His goodness. He’s the Life of man, the Physician who heals, and He’s still reaching today. Three cries—despair, discovery, deliverance—led me to one grace. Will you let Him in?

DESECRATION and Grace: The HOLY TRIAD of God’s Reign

The Bible unveils a “holy place”—first the tabernacle, then the temple, shadows of a deeper reality (Hebrews 8:5). I see it now as a triad, three pillars where God’s kingdom stakes its claim: the political sphere, pulsing through the White House, mightiest office reigning over earthly kings; the Church, America’s charge to bear the gospel’s light, whose fall imperils Christendom; and the individual soul, a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). Daniel declares, “The God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed” (Daniel 2:44), and I’m convinced it reigns today—not in triumph, but in contention, desecrated by Satan’s claw yet upheld by a grace I’ve tasted. This isn’t whimsy; it’s a lens to pierce our lawless age of April 2025, a truth to make us wise and evade the “man of lawlessness” rising (2 Thessalonians 2:3). I lay it bare—credible, urgent, a call to see the snake’s bore and the line that holds the world from his sway.

The Political Sphere: The White House

The White House stands as more than stone—it’s the nerve center of worldly might, the most powerful office on earth, its decrees bending kings and nations like a shepherd’s rod sways the flock. Scripture affirms God “removes kings and sets up kings” (Daniel 2:21), and I see His hand wrestling here, in this holy sphere—not divine in essence, but set apart by its dominion. For years, I watched desecration take root: pride flags raised as idols on its lawn each June, a rainbow banner supplanting the cross; policies bent to appease abortion’s altar—millions of lives lost since Roe v. Wade, a stain unwashed even after its fall. Lawlessness poured forth—open borders bled chaos, cities burned in riots, unchecked by a spirit not of God but of Babylon’s daughter, “mother of harlots and abominations” (Revelation 17:5).

The 2024 election was a war of kingdoms, lawlessness against order, Godlessness against grace. I saw anarchy rise—human trafficking surged through shadowed routes, cartels grew rich with blood money, streets drowned in fentanyl’s tide—until a new tenant swore the oath in January 2025. Flawed—his tongue cuts, his past stumbles—but orders shifted ground: border patrols doubled in Texas, trafficking rings raided from Ohio to California, a grace on the world, frail yet a lifeline cast across the waves. Daniel 4:26 says, “The heavens do rule.” I’ve wrestled—can law hold this dark? The White House shines when its edicts bow to justice—shielding the weak, binding the lawless—not man’s whims. Yet Revelation 18’s merchants, drunk on her wine, claw back—lobbyists weave agendas through April’s halls, ideologues twist truth into shadows. It teeters, a linchpin or a fall—I watch with breath held.

The Church: The Ecclesia

The Church, Christ’s body, is the second pillar—“salt of the earth,” “light of the world” (Matthew 5:13-14), restraining evil until He returns (2 Thessalonians 2:6-7). America once stood as its head in the West, tasked to blaze the gospel across the earth, a charge to anchor God’s order. If she falls, the West crumbles; if that goes, Christianity’s husk is razed, and Israel’s walls fall—the snake bores deep, seeking to unravel all. I see apostasy breaking her: prosperity preachers hawk gold over the cross, megachurch scandals bare greed masked as faith—millions gained while truth fades—while drag queens bless pulpits, rainbow robes mocking the sacred in St. James Episcopal. Worship turns theater—Jesus flipped tables for less, naming it a “den of thieves” (Matthew 21:13); Paul warned of Satan’s ministers cloaked as righteous (2 Corinthians 11:14-15). This is desecration—a pest piercing Christendom’s shell, a rot spreading wide.

Yet grace holds—the ecclesia restrains the lawless one, thwarting Satan’s sway. In the last presidency, the enemy struck—politics warped, pulpits twisted, hearts poisoned—but it failed, the remnant firm. I’ve seen it stand: in Georgia’s pews, they reject rainbow banners; across Asia’s rice fields, South America’s slums, Africa’s sun-scorched plains, they pray, casting out lies with scripture’s steel. A preacher’s flock grew from 50 to 200, dozens baptized in a muddy creek, hymns rising against the wind’s chants. Cocooned by the Holy Ghost, led by Christ, this core endures—the gates of hell batter but won’t breach God’s shield. I’ve seen the Spirit’s fire there, a warmth pulsing through cracked walls, defying the cold beyond. The husk breaks—lawlessness tests—but the remnant reigns, its light fierce across the earth.

The Individual: The Soul

The individual soul—you, me—is the third holy place, God’s temple (1 Corinthians 6:19), where the battle cuts personal. Our age mirrors Noah’s—“every intention was only evil continually” (Genesis 6:5)—a flood reborn. Rebellion runs wild; Godlessness spreads. Babylon’s wine of wrath (Revelation 18:3) pours from screens—porn streams flood views, TikTok peddles self-worship to kids, minds molded before prayer. Lawlessness grows—anger festers, perversion twists love, pride chokes humility. I’ve seen it—a child parroting filth from a phone in a grocery aisle; a teen lost to fentanyl, his temple broken in a ditch off the road. Satan defiles these temples, cracking what’s holy, staining the innocent.

But grace breaks through—I’ve tasted it. A soul says “No,” sparked by a laugh or a verse: “He who began a good work in you will complete it” (Philippians 1:6). It’s surrender—turning from filth, step by step. A young man turned from his phone’s poison to prayer after a sermon pierced his heart; his eyes cleared by Easter, a light kindled anew in his gaze. I’ve seen that shift—a spark against the flood, growing to a flame through nights of wrestling. One redeemed soul lifts the Church—picture a mother in a small congregation, weeping as she returned from years lost; a steadfast Church guides the state—her voice ringing strength to steady a faltering land. This fight’s ours—lawlessness tempts, Babylon beckons—yet grace sparks what’s cracked, a hope enduring.

The Triad’s Truth

Here’s the revelation I stake: God’s kingdom reigns—through the White House, mightiest among kings, when it bows to His law; through the Church, America’s torch, whose remnant restrains the lawless one; through the soul when it spurns Babylon’s cup. If the U.S. falls, the West collapses; if Christianity’s razed, Israel’s fate hangs by a thread—the snake bores to topple God’s order. In the last presidency, the enemy swung—lawlessness flooded—but it failed, the ecclesia holding fast in muddy creeks and shadowed slums, a grit forged in prayer and steel. Yet should the rapture snatch this remnant, the safety pod breaches—all hell breaks loose, a recoil shattering resistance, “darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people” (Isaiah 60:2), sleeper cells artfully infused into the West’s architecture springing alive by the tiger spirit of antichrist, kicking off the great tribulation, a trouble unlike anything seen. With the ecclesia at the helm, the dark world’s rage chants death to Israel and Christendom—the end crashing in like a storm long held at bay. One can only imagine when the kernel is plucked from the husk, that which restrains all darkness, its fallout unleashed. Daniel 7’s beasts rage; Revelation 18’s harlot seduces with her wine; yet grace rides the flood, as Noah’s ark endured. April 2025 echoes Matthew 24:12—“Lawlessness will abound”—but the gospel presses on, a lifeline in chaos.

The White House teeters—will it hold? The Church’s husk fractures—America falters, yet the remnant digs in, unbowed under Christ. Souls drown—do we rise? Satan desecrates all three, coiling through power, pews, hearts, but grace redeems—not fully, not now. “The kingdom of God is at hand” (Mark 1:15)—present in this triad, a truth to discern. See the desecration, the lies; see the snake’s aim, the line he can’t break till the trumpet sounds; cling to the grace—for the Lord reigns, His holy places endure, a beacon in the twilight.

The FIFTH Cup (Original SONG included)

The table groans under its burden, set with care in the flickering lamplight. Four cups rise like sentinels, each a promise clawed from the bones of Egypt. The first spills liberation—“I will bring you out,” God declares, and Pharaoh’s yoke shatters into dust, the chains of oppression grinding to nothing beneath His heel (Exodus 6:6). The second washes slavery’s stench away, a bitter tide of tears surging back, stinging throats raw as it recedes. The third gleams with redemption, an arm outstretched through time’s veil, seizing what’s His with unrelenting fire. The fourth seals it—“I will take you,” a people forged in the desert’s crucible, wine staining their lips dark and thick as blood, a covenant pulsing with belonging (Exodus 6:7). Passover hums with these four beats, a drumroll of deliverance etched deep in the soul of a nation.

Yet the story doesn’t end there. A fifth promise lingers in the text: “I will bring you into the land…” (Exodus 6:8). This vow of a homeland, a resting place for God’s people, sparked a debate among the Rabbis, recorded in the Talmud (Pesachim 118a). Should a fifth cup be poured to honor this final stage of redemption, the gift of the Land of Israel? Some argued yes, seeing it as the culmination of divine promise; others hesitated, noting its conditional weight, unfulfilled in times of exile. The dispute unresolved, Jewish tradition often pours this fifth cup at the Seder but leaves it untouched—a silent vessel, named for Elijah, the prophet destined to herald the Messiah and the final redemption. In this “Cup of Elijah,” hope simmers, a fragile whisper of a world made whole.

But there’s another cup, heavier, darker. The fifth. It hulks at the table’s edge, poured yet untouched, a shadow curling in the candlelight. In Jewish tradition, it yearns for Elijah’s return; yet the prophets glimpsed a deeper vein running through it. Jeremiah quaked before it: “Take this cup of the wine of my fury,” God roars, and kings choke on its dregs; cities fester, nations lurch like drunks through their own filth (Jeremiah 25:15-16). Isaiah reeled at the sight—a winepress trodden in divine rage, juice spilling red as gore, drenching the earth in judgment’s flood (Isaiah 63:3). This “Cup of Wrath,” absent from the Seder’s table but vivid in prophetic warnings, isn’t a sip of peace or a toast to glory. It’s a chalice brimming with a storm—God’s judgment, black and bottomless, waiting for someone to lift it.

Who could drink it?

Night throttles the garden, thick with midnight’s weight. A man kneels alone, sweat beading red, dripping like oil into the dirt. “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me,” he rasps, voice fraying into the dark (Luke 22:42). Jesus stares into a pit no one else can see, its edges gnashing with a fury sharper than nails, deeper than death. Fear sours the air; his breath hitches, ragged, as if the flood’s already rising in his chest. Disciples slump in the grass, snoring through the world’s unraveling, blind to the chalice trembling in his hands. This isn’t a martyr’s serene tableau—it’s a man facing the fifth cup, the wine of wrath meant to drown nations. In Christian thought, this cup merges with the Seder’s fifth, transforming Elijah’s hope into a crucible of suffering. He lifts it. He drinks. The tempest burns in his veins, his chest heaves under its weight, and the storm breaks over him alone.

And what a breaking—God casts off His anointed, wroth with the one He chose (Psalm 89:38). The covenant of His servant lies void, his crown profaned, cast to the ground (89:39). Hedges broken, strongholds ruined, he stands spoiled by all who pass, a reproach draped in shame (89:40-41). His enemies’ hands rise, their laughter rings, his sword dulled, his glory snuffed out, throne toppled, youth cut short (89:42-45). The fifth cup pours not just pain but desolation—abandonment absolute, loss no tongue dares preach.

Isaiah saw him coming—a servant, face battered beyond human, flesh shredded for sins he never owned. “He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our iniquities,” the prophet mutters, “the punishment that brought us peace broke him raw” (Isaiah 53:5). Silent as a lamb, he takes the blade—God’s will a millstone, grinding him to dust (53:7, 10). John hacks it blunt: “He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:2). Propitiation—not a bribe to soothe a tyrant, but a swallowing of the deluge. The fury meant to torch us sears his lungs, spills his blood, and on a hill of skulls, he drowns in it—body broken, a ruin beneath a torn sky.

The nations should’ve drowned instead. Jeremiah watched them reel—empires buckling, streets thick with ash and screams, kings clawing at their throats as the cup’s wrath burned through. Cities crumbled, brick by brick, a world unmade in slow, choking spasms. The four cups sang of rescue—out of bondage, out of chains, redeemed, claimed—yet every note drips with his blood. He drank, and the cosmos shifted. The storm meant for us broke over Golgotha, judgment turned inward, and the wall between Jew and Gentile fell. From the wreck rose one new man, a body fused by his wounds (Ephesians 2:14-15). Reality’s weave tore and restrung itself in that moment—freedom not just from Pharaoh, but from the winepress, the thunder no one else could bear.

For centuries, the fifth cup sat at the Seder, a mute ache—exile’s dust on every tongue, prayers stretched thin, a longing for Elijah’s horn. In Jewish tradition, it remains the Cup of Elijah, a symbol of hope for future redemption. In Christian eyes, it gapes empty, its truth laid bare for those with eyes to see. The cup’s drunk, the body’s one, the promise lives—not a shadow of what’s to come, but a wound healed by the Spirit. Do you see it? Do you raise it in your heart?

### Experience the Song: “The Fifth Cup” by VelvetThorn Worship

Dive deeper into the message of “The Fifth Cup” with this spine-chilling Christian worship song I created under my project, “VelvetThorn Worship”. Reflecting the sorrow and triumph of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice in Gethsemane, this original anthem is perfect for Holy Week, Good Friday, or personal worship. Let the haunting music and powerful lyrics draw you closer to the weight of sin and the mercy of redemption.

🎧 Listen Now: [The Fifth Cup – Christian Worship Song](https://youtu.be/g_wX7gp3JTQ)
🔔 Subscribe to [VelvetThorn Worship](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0uoHClN13HCEovypF_eCoH3_0T6XRi5Q) for more inspiring music.
💬 Share how this song touches your heart in the comments on YouTube!

**Full Lyrics – The Fifth Cup** 

Intro 

Verse 1 
The table groans beneath its weight, 
Four cups of promise, sealed by fate. 
The first brings out, the second cleans, 
The third restores, the fourth sets free. 
But there's a fifth, untouched, unseen, 
A shadowed cup, where wrath has been. 

Chorus 
He drank the fifth cup, 
The wrath that was mine, 
The silence shattered, 
Redemption in time. 

Verse 2 
In the garden, midnight's veil, 
A man alone, His soul assailed. 
"Take this cup," He pleads in pain, 
Yet drinks it down, to break sin's chain. 

Chorus 
He drank the fifth cup, 
The wrath that was mine, 
The silence shattered, 
Redemption in time. 

Bridge 
Pierced for our rebellion, 
Crushed for our iniquities, 
The punishment that brought us peace, 
Broke Him raw, set us free. 

Outro 
The fifth cup's empty, 
The wrath is gone, 
In Christ’s great mercy, 
We are reborn. 

#ChristianWorship #TheFifthCup #HolyWeek #VelvetThornWorship
```

The RESURRECTION of the DEAD: A Profound Spiritual Lesson in the Gospels

In the gospels, we witness Jesus performing incredible miracles, one of the most striking being his raising of the dead. The physical resurrection of individuals like Lazarus, the widow’s son, and Jairus’ daughter astonishes us and speaks powerfully about Jesus’ divine authority. However, if we are to truly understand the significance of these miracles, we must look beyond their physical nature and see them as part of a larger spiritual narrative. The real depth of these resurrections is not just about physical life returning to dead bodies but about Jesus preparing the way for a deeper, eternal resurrection of the soul—one that would be fully realized through His death, resurrection, and the coming of the Holy Ghost.

In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him (1 John 4:9).

In 1 John 4:9, the Apostle John underscores the manifestation of God’s love through the sending of His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, into the world, ‘that we might live through him.’ This spiritual life begins now, as Paul writes in Ephesians 2:1 and 6, ‘And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins… and hath raised us up together and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.’ Here, Paul captures both the immediate renewal of the soul and its eternal position in Christ, a resurrection from spiritual death to vibrant life. This new life is about more than mere survival; it represents a transformation empowered by God’s love and grace, healing the sickness of sin and aligning believers with His will. The verse invites a deeper understanding of salvation, showing that it is not only a future promise but a present reality, wherein the love of God continually transforms and revives the believer’s spirit. Furthermore, this transformation is brought to fruition through the promise of the Holy Spirit. Jesus said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that hears my word and believes on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life. Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now is when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall live. “For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:21-22). This verse clearly articulates the concept of the resurrection of the dead, emphasizing that it refers to a raising to life according to the spirit rather than the body itself.

As Jesus declared in John 14:12, believers would do greater works than He did—not merely in miraculous deeds, but in the spiritual empowerment provided by the Holy Spirit. This divine empowerment, bestowed upon believers after Christ’s ascension, equips them to live out this spiritual renewal in every facet of life, enabling them to carry out the greater works Christ spoke of—that is, they would become life-givers as well, imparting the very life and power of the Spirit to others through the transformative work of Christ in them. This is exemplified in the mission given to the Apostle Paul: “To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith” (Acts 26:18). In this way, Paul’s commission reflects the broader calling for believers to bring about spiritual renewal and transformation through the work of the Holy Spirit.

This may come as a surprise to some, but could it be that the resurrection we often await—a future raising of the body—rests upon a spiritual resurrection that has already begun? Scripture calls this the ‘first resurrection’ (Revelation 20:6), a present reality for those in Christ. As Paul declares in Ephesians 2:6, ‘And hath raised us up together and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus,’ we are already lifted from spiritual death, seated with Him in the heavenly realms. This is not to deny the future renewal of our bodies but to affirm that it hinges on the eternal life already at work within us. Jesus Himself said, ‘The hour is coming, and now is when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall live’ (John 5:25). Without this spiritual awakening, how could our bodies be quickened by the Spirit? For the spiritually dead, any raising would lead only to judgment—the ’second death’ (Revelation 20:14)—but for those alive in Christ, the first resurrection secures an inheritance that the physical will one day fully reflect.

How can we expect our physical bodies to be quickened by the Spirit of God without first experiencing spiritual renewal? Shouldn’t the presence of eternal life within us make our bodies eligible to be raised to life? If a person is spiritually dead, how can they be raised except to face the second death? Revelation 2:11; 20:6,14; 21:8

It deeply troubles me when ministers of the gospel attempt to imitate Jesus by trying to raise the dead physically, using it as a means to showcase their ministerial power and validate themselves before men. Yet Jesus said, “Ye shall do greater things than these,” and they seem to have no understanding of what the New Testament is truly about. While the Spirit of God can raise someone who has experienced physical death, this pales in comparison to the power of raising someone who is spiritually dead. If we limit death to mere physical separation, its significance diminishes. However, death is not just the separation of the body; it is a spiritual condition, representing estrangement from the living God.

Physical Resurrection as a Foreshadowing of Spiritual Resurrection

While Jesus raised the dead physically, these acts were not simply displays of miraculous power. They were signs, symbols, and foretellings of a far greater reality—spiritual resurrection. These miracles pointed to Jesus’ ultimate mission: to conquer spiritual death, remove the jurisdiction of sin, and destroy the power of Satan over humanity. Through His death and resurrection, He opened the way for the Spirit to awaken souls, fulfilling His promise that those who hear His voice shall live.

In the gospels, when Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25), He is not merely speaking to a physical truth but to a far-reaching spiritual reality. The raising of the dead was a precursor to what Jesus would accomplish through His death and resurrection. The physical resurrections demonstrated His authority over death but also highlighted a deeper, more eternal promise—the restoration of humanity to God through spiritual rebirth. The work that Jesus did physically on earth was a foreshadowing of the spiritual resurrection that would come with the outpouring of the Holy Ghost at Pentecost.

The spiritual death resulting from Adam’s sin (Genesis 3) also brought about physical death, not the other way around. Spiritual death set the stage for the eventual physical death of the body. This can be understood by recognizing that the spirit of man is the “candle of the Lord” (Proverbs 20:27), and if that candle is extinguished, the whole body is in darkness—as the Gospels point out in Matthew 6:22–23: “The light of the body is the eye; if therefore thine eye be single (ἁπλοῦς – haplous-spiritually healthy), thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil (πονηρός – ponēros, a state of spiritual blindness or moral corruption—moral evil or wickedness—used to describe things or actions that are inherently corrupt, malicious, or harmful), thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!” Here, the “eye” symbolizes the condition of the spirit within a person. Just as the eye governs the flow of light into the body, the state of the spirit determines whether the individual is filled with spiritual light or darkness. When the spirit is dead or corrupted—like a candle that has been extinguished—the whole person remains in spiritual darkness. This spiritual condition permeates every part of life, leading to confusion, brokenness, and separation from God. As James 2:26 says, “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so the spirit that is made alive alone can give light to the whole body.” This underscores that the spirit, once revived in Christ, is the source of light for the whole person. For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 4:6). Only by bringing the spirit of man back to life through Christ can the body also expect resurrection, as the restoration of the spirit is the precursor to the physical resurrection. The reawakening of the spirit to new life through Christ guarantees that the body, too, will be transformed and quickened in the fullness of time. This is why Jesus Christ declared, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit (John 3:5, 6).

The Greater Works of Spiritual Resurrection

The Greater Works: Spiritual Life Through the Gospel

In John 14:12, Jesus delivers a stunning promise: “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.” At first, this seems almost impossible to grasp. Jesus raised Lazarus from the tomb, gave sight to the blind, and stilled the storm—how could His followers possibly exceed such feats? The key lies in understanding that Jesus was not speaking solely of physical miracles but of a far greater work: the spiritual resurrection of souls, made possible through the Holy Spirit after His ascension.

This promise came to life on the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost descended upon the disciples in tongues of fire. Peter, once a fisherman who denied Christ, stood before a crowd in Jerusalem and preached the gospel with such power that “about three thousand souls” were added to the church that day (Acts 2:41). This was no mere physical healing—it was a mass resurrection of hearts, a turning from spiritual death to life in Christ. Where Jesus raised one Lazarus, the disciples, empowered by the Spirit, raised thousands into eternal life through the proclamation of the gospel. This, Jesus declared, was the “greater work”—not because it diminished His miracles, but because it addressed humanity’s deepest need: reconciliation with God.

Consider, too, the transformation of Saul of Tarsus. A persecutor of the church, he was struck blind on the road to Damascus, only to rise as Paul, a vessel of the gospel who would pen much of the New Testament (Acts 9:1–18). His physical blindness was healed, yes, but the greater miracle was the awakening of his spirit—a resurrection from the death of sin to a life that would ignite the early church. These examples reveal that the “greater works” are not about outdoing Jesus in spectacle but about extending His mission through the Spirit’s power, bringing life where death once reigned.

From Old Covenant Signs to New Covenant Reality

To fully grasp this shift from physical to spiritual resurrection, we must consider the context of Jesus’ ministry. When He walked the earth, Israel still operated under the Old Covenant, a system of signs and shadows awaiting fulfillment. The physical resurrections—like the widow’s son raised by Elijah (1 Kings 17:17–24)—were powerful yet temporary. The boy lived again, but he would one day die anew. These miracles were foretastes, pointing to a reality that could only be unveiled after Jesus’ death and resurrection ushered in the New Covenant.

Hebrews 9:8 tells us, “The way into the holiest of all was not yet made manifest, while as the first tabernacle was yet standing.” Until Christ, the Testator of the New Covenant, shed His blood, the full outpouring of the Holy Spirit remained sealed. The physical miracles Jesus performed were like rays of light breaking through a veil, illuminating what was to come. When He raised Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:35–43), it was a sign of His authority over death—but it also foreshadowed the day when, through the Spirit, countless souls would be raised to eternal life. The Old Covenant offered glimpses; the New Covenant delivered the reality.

Contrast Elijah’s miracle with the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:7–29). Elijah restored a body to life, but Jesus, through a single conversation, revived a soul. She left her waterpot—not because her physical thirst was quenched, but because her spirit had tasted living water. Her testimony then sparked a revival in her village, a ripple effect of spiritual life that outshone any temporary restoration. This is the New Covenant promise: not just signs, but transformation, fulfilled at Pentecost when the Spirit empowered believers to become conduits of resurrection.

Awakening to Our Resurrection Life

This brings us to a staggering truth: believers in Christ have already experienced this spiritual resurrection. Paul writes in Ephesians 2:5–6, “Even when we were dead in sins, [God] hath quickened us together with Christ… and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” This is not a future hope deferred to the end of days—it is a present reality. When we are born again, we pass from death to life (John 5:24), our spirits awakened by the same power that raised Jesus from the tomb (Romans 8:11). We are, even now, seated with Him in heavenly places, far above the dominion of sin and death.

Yet how often do we live as if this were true? Many believers fix their eyes on a distant resurrection, awaiting a physical transformation while overlooking the spiritual victory already won. Could it be that we miss the fullness of our resurrection life because we’ve yet to grasp its present power? Imagine the implications: if we are seated with Christ, how should that change the way we face temptation, fear, or suffering? The early church understood this. When Paul confronted the Areopagus in Athens (Acts 17:22–34), he didn’t perform a physical miracle—he preached the risen Christ, and souls like Dionysius and Damaris were raised to faith. This is our calling too—to live as resurrection people, wielding the gospel as a life-giving force.

This misunderstanding isn’t new. Even today, some emphasize physical healings or prosperity as the pinnacle of faith, echoing the crowds who sought Jesus for loaves rather than the Bread of Life (John 6:26–27). But the true miracle is the soul set free from sin’s chains, a victory that endures beyond this frail body. As Hebrews 12:22 declares, “Ye are come unto mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem”—not will come, but are come. We enter by faith, as children, already partakers of the first resurrection.

Conclusion: Living as Resurrection People

The physical resurrections of the Gospels—Lazarus stepping from the tomb, the widow’s son restored—were breathtaking previews of Christ’s power. Yet they were but shadows of the greater work He entrusted to us: to raise the spiritually dead through the gospel, empowered by the Holy Ghost. Just as Jesus called Lazarus forth by His voice, we are called to step into the world as agents of resurrection, bearing the life of Christ to those entombed in darkness.

Picture a church fully awake to this reality: death defeated, sin powerless, every believer a beacon of eternal light. This is not a distant dream—it is the victory Christ has already secured. The first resurrection has begun in us, and its power pulses through our lives today. Let us not linger in the tomb of ignorance or fear, but rise to walk in the Spirit, proclaiming with Paul, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1 Corinthians 15:55). For we are more than conquerors, alive in Him, now and forever.

The Blessed LONGING: Seeking the FULLNESS of GOD in a World of Deficiency

There is a deep, innate longing within the human soul—a vacuum, an ache that many of us cannot name but can feel. It is a longing for more, for something beyond what we can see, touch, or fully comprehend. For the true seeker, this longing is the desire to experience God in His fullness, to be fully filled with His Spirit, to walk in the tangible presence of His glory. And yet, for many of us, this fullness often feels out of reach.

We find ourselves in the tension of yearning for God’s presence while living in a world of apparent insufficiency. We long to see Him, to experience the touch of His Spirit in tangible ways—yet we often face seasons where we feel distant, where the vacuum of longing seems unfulfilled.

But could it be that this vacuum, this very emptiness, is not a sign of God’s absence but of His divine invitation to seek Him? Could it be that this longing within us is a reflection of what was lost in the Garden of Eden—and yet a promise of what will one day be restored in Christ? Indeed, the fullness of God is something we must seek, and in seeking, we draw closer to the very heart of God.

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29), pointing to a faith that transcends physical sight. This blessed longing is not just about the desire to see or experience God tangibly but is about the faith that believes without seeing. It is this kind of faith, rooted in trust rather than sight, that deepens our relationship with Him, even in our seasons of longing. The vacuum of longing becomes a divine invitation to embrace faith without sight, a call to trust in God’s promises even when we cannot physically experience His fullness.

The Vacuum as a Divine Invitation

The vacuum within us, this longing for more of God, is a deliberate and profound part of God’s design. If God did not want us to experience His fullness, He would not have created within us such a divine yearning—a longing for something beyond ourselves. It’s a reflection of the spiritual void that humanity faces since the Fall of Adam, when we were originally created to walk in perfect fellowship with God. The ache we feel is both a result of the Fall and a sign of what will be restored in Christ.

In the Garden, Adam and Eve experienced perfect communion with God. Their sin broke that fellowship, and in its wake, humanity has been left with a longing for that original relationship. This vacuum, this thirst for more of God, drives us to seek Him more fully. And yet, as we see, this very absence is also a divine invitation. God could have chosen to fill this gap immediately, but He has chosen instead to call us into deeper pursuit. We are meant to search for Him with all our hearts (Jeremiah 29:13), knowing that in the seeking, we are drawn closer to Him.

Romans 8:22-23 adds a profound layer to this understanding of longing, not just as a personal experience but as part of a broader cosmic reality. Paul writes, “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.”

In this passage, Paul links our individual longing for redemption to the groaning of all creation. Just as we feel the ache of unfulfilled desires for God’s presence, creation itself longs for the ultimate fulfilment of God’s promises—the restoration of all things. This longing is not merely an individual experience but part of a larger, divine narrative of redemption that encompasses the whole world.

The tension we feel between the “already” of our salvation and the “not yet” of the fullness of God’s Kingdom is reflected in creation itself. We, as human beings, are caught in the overlap of the two ages—living in a fallen world while also being recipients of God’s firstfruits through the Holy Spirit. Our personal longing is, therefore, a small but significant part of a cosmic groaning that looks forward to the redemption of our bodies and the restoration of all creation. This connection between personal longing and cosmic redemption ties our individual experiences of yearning directly to God’s ultimate plan to restore and redeem not only humanity but all of creation.

The Paradox of Seeking and Longing

In this pursuit, there is a paradox: the more we seek God’s fullness, the more we become aware of our lack. Yet, this lack serves to refine and perfect our faith. It’s not that God does not want to meet us in our longing, but that He desires to test and refine our faith as we wait. The absence of immediate fulfilment is the very thing that causes our faith to grow stronger, just as gold is refined by fire. Our longing is not a sign of failure or spiritual deficiency but part of a divine process that deepens our trust in God.

This paradox is not just a personal experience but reflects the very nature of the Kingdom of God. Jesus taught that the Kingdom is both “already” present and “not yet” fully realised. In Luke 17:21, He declares, “The kingdom of God is in your midst” (or “within you”). This present reality of the Kingdom, which is already here in the person and work of Jesus, is experienced through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit and the life of the Church. We experience the “already” of God’s Kingdom in the sense that we have received the first fruits of the Spirit, a taste of His Kingdom to come, and have been transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the Kingdom of His Son (Colossians 1:13).

However, while we experience the “already,” we also live in the tension of the “not yet.” The fullness of God’s Kingdom is still to come—the complete restoration of all things, the new heavens and new earth, and the final victory over sin and death. In this “already-not-yet” time, we feel the tension of longing for what has been promised but has not yet been fully realised.

This tension manifests in our spiritual journey as we experience both God’s presence and the absence of its fullness. Ephesians 1:13-14 speaks of the Holy Spirit as a “seal” and a “guarantee” of our inheritance, yet we still long for the final redemption of our bodies and the complete fulfilment of God’s promises. The Spirit’s indwelling presence is a foretaste, a deposit, of the fullness that is to come. And so, we experience a paradox: the Kingdom is “already” here, but not yet fully realised, and our longing for God reflects this in-between time.

In this sense, our longing is not a sign of spiritual failure but a vital part of the Christian journey. It reflects the heart of the “already-not-yet” tension we live in. As we wait for the final fulfilment of God’s promises, we long for more of His presence. This yearning for the “not yet” helps deepen our intimacy with God in the “already,” teaching us to rely on His Spirit and trust in the hope of future glory. Just as Romans 8:23 reminds us, “We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies,” we live in a state of longing, even as we experience the “firstfruits” of the Kingdom today.

This paradox is further illustrated by the life of the Apostle Paul, who spoke of his deep yearning to know Christ more fully, even if that meant experiencing suffering. He desired the fullness of God but understood that true fellowship with God involves both the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings (Philippians 3:10). Paul’s longing was not disconnected from the “already-not-yet” tension but was a reflection of it. As he sought God’s fullness, he recognised that the trials and suffering he endured were part of the refining process that deepened his relationship with Christ. Just as gold is refined by fire, so too, through suffering and longing, our faith is strengthened.

In this pursuit of God, through trials, perseverance, and longing, we grow spiritually. The “already” reality of God’s presence gives us strength to endure the “not yet” fulfilment, knowing that as we press on, we are being transformed into Christ’s image. This tension between the now and the not yet is a central theme in the Christian walk, teaching us to rely not on what we can see or touch, but on the promises of God that we trust by faith.

The Role of Trials and Waiting in Sanctification

This theme of longing for God’s fullness while enduring the absence—the gap between what we know to be true about God and what we feel in the moment—is a crucial aspect of the sanctification process. Trials test our faith, and it is precisely in the midst of waiting for the fullness of God that our faith is refined. It’s a process that demands perseverance and trust. James 1:2-4 makes this clear, stating that the testing of our faith produces perseverance, leading to spiritual maturity. The absence, the seeming vacuum of God’s presence, is not only a trial but also a tool for transformation.

In the wilderness of waiting, we are given an opportunity to press in further, to cultivate deeper faith, and to trust that God is at work even when we cannot perceive His presence. It is in this tension between what we seek and what we experience that our faith is refined, tested, and purified.

Yet this process goes beyond mere endurance—it leads to something even greater. Romans 5:3-4 reminds us that “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” This verse deepens our understanding of the sanctification process. It’s not just about enduring trials but about how those trials produce a greater hope. As we endure suffering and waiting, our perseverance is tested, and from this perseverance, our character is shaped. But the ultimate outcome is hope—a hope that does not disappoint because it is anchored in the promises of God.

The “vacuum” of God’s presence, while painful, is not without purpose. In fact, it becomes a furnace in which our character is refined. The deeper our longing, the stronger our perseverance; the stronger our perseverance, the more our character reflects the likeness of Christ. Through this process, we develop an unshakeable hope, a hope that empowers us to keep pressing forward, knowing that the fullness we long for will one day be realised.

The Blessed Fellowship of the Spirit in the Present

While only a few will enter into the deepest fellowship with the Spirit in this present age, that does not mean that God is withholding His presence from His children. The Holy Spirit has been given to all believers as a guarantee of the fullness to come. Even now, God is at work in our lives, transforming us, renewing us, and filling us with His presence, though not always in the dramatic or tangible ways that we might desire.

Ephesians 1:13-14 speaks of the Holy Spirit as a seal of our inheritance, saying, “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession.” The Holy Spirit, though He does not always manifest Himself in powerful ways, is still at work within us, and He is the down payment of the fullness we will one day experience in eternity.

In the meantime, we press on in faith, knowing that the longing we feel is not wasted. Our faith, though it may feel weak at times, is precious in God’s sight. It is through our longing, our waiting, and our seeking that we grow deeper into the fullness of Christ. This is where faith without sight shines—through the Holy Spirit, we experience God’s presence even when we cannot see or touch Him directly.

However, the fruit of the Spirit offers us a powerful reminder that God’s presence is still at work within us, even in times of longing and waiting. In Galatians 5:22-23, Paul outlines the evidence of the Spirit’s work: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” These qualities are tangible signs of God’s ongoing presence, even in the absence of dramatic spiritual experiences. While we may long for a greater revelation of God or a more tangible encounter with the Holy Spirit, the fruit of the Spirit assures us that He is still moving within us.

In our waiting, the Holy Spirit cultivates these virtues in us—love when we feel alone, joy in the midst of sorrow, peace when turmoil surrounds us, and patience when it feels like fulfilment is delayed. These fruits of the Spirit are not simply abstract ideals; they are evidence of God’s work, a quiet but profound testimony to His ongoing presence and transformative power.

Even when we feel the vacuum of longing or the weight of waiting, the Holy Spirit is shaping our character to reflect the likeness of Christ. These qualities become not only the markers of spiritual growth but also the proof of God’s faithfulness. Through them, we experience the kingdom “already” present in us, as they bring glimpses of the future fulfilment when we will experience God’s presence fully and without restraint.

The Ultimate Fulfilment: Glory to Come

Ultimately, the fullness of God that we long for will only be fully realised in the age to come. In 1 John 3:2, we are reminded that “when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” The fullness we seek will be perfectly fulfilled when we are glorified, when our bodies and souls are transformed to be like Christ, and when we are fully united with Him. In that day, the vacuum will be no more. We will experience the fullness of God in ways that we can scarcely imagine.

Revelation 21:3-4 gives us a glorious picture of this future hope:

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’”

In that day, all tears will be wiped away, and the deficiency of our current experience of God will be forever gone. We will be one with Him, seeing Him face to face, experiencing the fullness of His glory and presence. This is the hope that fuels us as we continue on the journey of faith. Until that day comes, the vacuum within us reminds us to seek, to believe without seeing, and to trust that God will fill us with Himself in ways we cannot yet fully understand.

In addition to this glorious promise, Isaiah 25:8 provides a powerful image of God’s ultimate victory over suffering and death, enriching the eschatological picture of our future hope:

“He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces.” (Isaiah 25:8)

This verse expands on the hope given in Revelation, showing that death and sorrow will be completely vanquished. Not only will God be present with His people, but He will also defeat the very forces of suffering and death that have plagued humanity since the fall. In that day, there will be no more mourning, no more separation, and no more fear of death. God’s final victory over death is a promise that strengthens our longing for the future fulfilment, reminding us that our current longing is not in vain but is a preparation for the eternal joy that awaits us.

Until that day, the vacuum of longing within us is a reminder to seek Him with greater anticipation. It draws us forward, reminding us that the suffering and separation we experience now will be replaced by eternal communion and fulfilment with God. This longing, though painful, stirs in us a hope that transcends the present moment and fuels our perseverance, knowing that our future with God will be far more glorious than we can even comprehend.

Conclusion: The Blessed Longing

The vacuum within us is not a curse but a blessed longing—an invitation from God to enter into deeper communion with Him. This longing reflects both the loss of perfect fellowship with God in the Garden of Eden and the promise of restoration through Christ. As we long for God’s fullness, we are reminded that though it will not be fully realised until we are glorified, this longing is not a sign of abandonment but an active, divine invitation to seek Him with all our hearts.

This longing, though it can be painful, is a key part of our spiritual journey. It is through our yearning for His presence that we are drawn into a deeper knowledge of God and a fuller experience of His Holy Spirit. It is also through longing that we are shaped and transformed, as our faith is tested and refined through waiting and trials. The journey is not easy, but it is a journey that produces perseverance, hope, and spiritual maturity, leading us closer to the ultimate fulfilment we will experience when Christ returns.

As we press forward in faith, we cling to the hope of the “already-not-yet” Kingdom, where the Holy Spirit gives us a foretaste of the glory to come. Our longing reflects our pilgrim status in this world—it is a longing that fuels our perseverance as we await the future redemption of our bodies and the fulfilment of all things. Ultimately, we long for a day when the vacuum of longing will be filled with the fullness of God’s glory—a day when suffering and death are swallowed up forever, and we are fully united with Christ in eternal joy.

May we continue to seek Him in the midst of this blessed longing, knowing that He is faithful to fill the hearts of those who truly desire Him. In the waiting, in the longing, and in the seeking, we are being transformed into His image, and one day, we will see Him face to face in the fullness of His glory—and we shall be like Him (1 John 3:2).

The Hidden Truth About FAITH: It’s Not What You’ve Been Told

Introduction:

Faith. It’s a word that gets thrown around often in religious, spiritual, and even secular contexts. People talk about having faith to achieve their goals, believing that faith can move mountains or unlock personal success. But what if I told you that much of what we think we know about faith is not quite the full picture?

Over the years, faith has been packaged as a tool for personal gain, a means to fulfill desires, or a quick fix for problems. But is that the true essence of faith? Is faith simply about getting what we want in life, or is there something deeper at play?

In this article, we’re going to explore the hidden truth about faith—what it really is, what it was meant to do, and how it works in the life of a believer. We’ll peel back the layers of misconception that have clouded its true meaning and uncover the transformative power of faith, not just as a means to an end, but as a vital relationship with the Creator and a life-altering force.

If you’re ready to challenge the way you’ve thought about faith and embark on a journey of rediscovery, then keep reading. It’s time to look beyond the surface and discover the truth that can change everything.

Key Scriptures to Set the Foundation for Faith

As we dive into understanding the true nature of faith, let us first lay the groundwork with the words of scripture, which provide a powerful foundation for the faith we are called to walk in:

  1. “Earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.” – Jude 1:3
    This verse reminds us that the faith we are called to is not a modern invention, nor a tool to be used for personal agendas. It is the same faith ONCE delivered to the saints—the original, unaltered truth that must be guarded and held firmly, without distortion.
  2. “Them that have obtained like precious faith with us through the righteousness of God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.” – 2 Peter 1:1
    Faith is a gift that we obtain through the righteousness of Christ, and it is precious—valuable beyond measure. It is not something we manufacture on our own, but rather, it is bestowed upon us through the work of Jesus.

3 “Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.” – Hebrews 12:2

The essence of our faith is found in Christ—He is both the beginning and the completion of our faith. We are called to look to Him, the one who perfects and matures our faith through His work in us.

“Unlike the time when Jesus walked the earth under the still-intact Old Testament covenant—when the apostles pleaded, ‘INCREASE our faith’ (Luke 17:5)—such a request is no longer required and is not applicable under the New Covenant, as the Holy Ghost had not yet been given to them, and the way into the holiest of all had not yet been made manifest while the first tabernacle was still standing (Hebrews 9:8). But our stance is not so in Christ. Now faith has COME! Their stance was that, before faith CAME, they were kept under the law, SHUT UP unto the faith which should AFTERWARDS be revealed (Galatians 3:23).” Faith comes by hearing the word of God – Romans 10:17 And the word of God increased; and the number of the disciples multiplied in Jerusalem greatly; and a great company of the priests were obedient to the faith. Acts 6:7 Now when they heard this, they were pricked in their heart, and said unto Peter and to the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren, what shall we do? Acts 2:37 These verses highlight the corresponding nature of hearing the Word and the stirring up of faith in the heart. As the Word of God is proclaimed, it stirs faith within those who hear it, and this faith leads to obedience. The growth of the disciples and the conversion of a great company of priests demonstrate that true faith, stirred by the Word, results in a life of obedience to God’s call. 

Faith is not merely intellectual assent, nor is it mere belief; it leads to a heartfelt repentance, a response to God, and submission to His will. True faith is transformative, moving beyond mental acknowledgment to a genuine change of heart and life that aligns with God’s purposes. And this kind of faith cannot be concocted or forged by man; it must come from God to an elect soul. Christ is the author and finisher of faith, period. It was the Spirit of Christ that had sway on the Old Testament believers as well – Galatians 3:8; 1 Peter 1:11. An elect soul is one that receives the seed of faith, a good ground in this context, prepared by God to respond to His call. This faith is divinely planted and nurtured, and it takes root in the heart of those whom God has chosen, producing a transformation that leads to repentance and submission to His will.

“So, in regeneration, everything included in the package of grace is initiated by the gift of faith. By what law? By the law of faith. This faith is imputed to the elect of God.” Romans 3:27 Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law. Romans 3:28 For by grace are ye saved through (the imputed) faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast. Ephesians 2:5,8

Now we’ve been instructed to build ourselves up on that most holy faith which we’ve received is in its seed form. The spiritual life that we’ve inherited in Christ can only be built upon this law of faith. Anything outside of faith is sin, for whatsoever is not of faith is sin – Romans 14:23

Then there is the trial of faith and the testing of faith, which are crucial in perfecting and establishing it. That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perishes, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ – 1Peter 1:7. Count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith works patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing. James 1:2-4 

The word “temptation” used here is translated from the Greek peirasmos (πειρασμός). In this context, it refers not to enticements to sin, but to challenges or trials that test the believer’s faith and character. These trials are meant to refine and strengthen faith, and believers are encouraged to count it all joy when facing such difficulties. These tests and trials not only refine and strengthen faith, but they also serve to sanctify the believer, helping them grow in holiness and Christlikeness as they endure and persevere in the midst of difficulties.

Today, many people believe that we are primarily called to the work of God or ministry. In reality, however, the true calling of a believer in Christ is to become like Christ and to be perfected, just as our Heavenly Father is perfect. This often leads to neglecting the work of the Holy Spirit within us. While we are entrusted with the work of God, we must keep the work of Christ in our hearts as a parallel focus. Without first being built up ourselves, we attempt to go out and build others. We, who have the plank in our own eye, seek to remove the speck from our brother’s eye.

To partake of the divine nature and His holiness must be our utmost longing and desire, for without holiness, no one shall see the Lord. We do not need to work alone; instead, we must allow Christ to live in us. Our conformity to His Word and our willingness to comply with His will are what are truly required. 

We cannot attain the standard of God on our own, but because we were crucified with Christ and no longer live, it is Christ who lives in us – Galatians 2:20. Those who are in Christ have crucified the flesh with its affections and lusts – Galatians 5:24. Therefore, we can only submit to the work of Christ through the Spirit and His Word, allowing Him to transform us from within. That is where this precious faith comes into play. It is through faith that we are able to submit to the work of Christ, trusting in His transformative power through the Spirit and His Word, enabling us to live according to God’s will.

See, God has already equipped us, and all we need to do is submit to His work through His Word. It is by yielding to His Word that we allow His power to transform us and enable us to walk in His ways. We must allow the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus to supplant the law of sin and death that resides in our members, constantly attempting to take us captive. This battle occurs as it wrestles with the law of our minds, but by the Spirit, we are empowered to overcome and live according to the new law of life in Christ.

A spiritually immature person is unskilled in the word of righteousness; they are still a babe in Christ, yet carnal (1 Corinthians 3:1-3; Hebrews 5:13). However, those who have attained maturity in the Spirit are not like this. They are conformed to the image of their Master on the inside, reflecting His character and nature in their thoughts, actions, and desires. This inner transformation manifests as spiritual maturity, aligning them with Christ in both spirit and truth. As it is written, “The disciple is not above his master, but every one that is perfect shall be as his master” (Luke 6:40). Out of the good treasure of his heart, he brings forth good things. His inner transformation, shaped by Christ, overflows into actions and words that reflect the goodness and righteousness of God. As the heart is renewed, so too are the works that flow from it. Luke 6:45 

One who is endowed with earthly, sensual, and devilish wisdom exhibits fighting and discord as their assets. For where envy and strife exist, there is confusion and every evil work. In contrast, the mature in spirit, possessing a spiritual mind, is endowed with the wisdom that comes from above. This wisdom is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace (James 3).

Now the question arises: if they were shut off from faith, how is it that Abraham became the father of faith? And how do we reconcile Hebrews 11 and 12, which reveals a cloud of witnesses who fought for faith and were counted as righteous? The answer lies in understanding that, although the law under the Old Covenant could not bring righteousness through works, faith was always the means by which the righteous lived. Abraham, though a heathen, was called by God to receive the promise, which indicates that it was God’s mercy and grace that enabled him to respond in faith. His faith, as stated in Romans 4:3, was counted to him as righteousness. These witnesses in Hebrews 11 and 12 exemplify the enduring power of faith, even before the fullness of the New Covenant was revealed. Their faith, despite being before the revelation of Christ, was counted for righteousness because it pointed forward to the promise of salvation through Him. This shows that faith, even in the Old Covenant, was always a gift from God, and without His intervention, no one would be able to respond in faith. Human beings, in their total depravity, cannot generate faith on their own. It is God who opens the heart and mind to see and know Him, granting the grace to respond.

But there is one exception to the working of faith, which pertains to the gifts of the Spirit. As stated in 1 Corinthians 12:9, “To another faith by the same Spirit.” This is a unique endowment given to a chosen few, a special gift of faith that operates supernaturally for the edification of the body of Christ and the fulfillment of God’s will. Unlike the general faith that comes from God to all believers, this gift is specifically granted for particular purposes and is a manifestation of the Spirit in the life of the believer.

“Without faith it is impossible to please God” (Hebrews 11:6) means that it is not a call to generate faith on your own, nor is it a demand or command from God to work to concoct faith in the heart, which is absurd and an impossibility. Given humanity’s total depravity, where we are incapable of responding to God as He intends, and recognizing that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, the faith that pleases God must come to a person through Christ. It is through Christ alone that faith is granted, and it is this faith that enables us to please God. Faith is not something we can manufacture, but rather a gift from God that transforms the heart and aligns it with His will.

As it is written, “so that no flesh should glory in His presence” (1 Corinthians 1:29). This emphasizes that no one can claim righteousness or boast in their own works before God. Faith, being a gift from God, ensures that all glory and praise are directed toward Him alone. It is by His grace and mercy that we are able to respond in faith, and this humility before God removes any grounds for human boasting. Our salvation, and the faith by which we are saved, is entirely the work of God, ensuring that He alone receives the glory.

James 1:6-8, which says, “Ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavers is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord. A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways,” reveals a deeper understanding of faith. While it may seem like a person without faith is downcast or lacking enough faith, it is crucial to understand that wavering and instability in faith do not necessarily mean a complete absence of faith.

The key lies in recognizing that the trying of faith perfects it (James 1:3). A faith that has not been tested or tried can easily waver, becoming double-minded and unstable in its response to life’s challenges. The instability mentioned here is not about a lack of faith altogether, but about an immature, untested faith that has not yet been proven in the crucible of trials. In this sense, faith that has been tried is the anchor that stabilizes one’s life, keeping the ship of life from capsizing. Without trials, faith may not yet be fully formed and may lead to uncertainty, but the testing of faith is what brings about its maturity and steadfastness. Therefore, instead of judging someone as lacking faith, we should recognize that the process of growth in faith involves trials and perseverance.

The test of faith is crucial because it is through testing that faith matures, becomes steadfast, and proves its genuineness. Without the trial of faith, it would remain unrefined and vulnerable to wavering. Just as gold must be refined in fire to remove impurities, so must faith be tested to strengthen and perfect it. The trials we face reveal the true nature of our faith and shape it into something that can endure and withstand life’s challenges. Without these tests, faith remains untested, and we risk becoming unstable and double-minded, as James 1:6-8 describes. Therefore, the test of faith is not only inevitable but also necessary for spiritual growth, making faith the anchor that holds firm through life’s storms.

“For let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord” means, that without attaining that level, one won’t see things happening around as teh desires of the heart or the vision that God has placed within you can only come to fruition when faith reaches its maturity. What does the Bible say?  But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, AFTER that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, establish, strengthen, settle you. 1 Peter 5:10

 

Hebrews 12:5-11 confirms the process by which we come to maturity and inherit the righteousness of God. These verses speak of the discipline and training of a loving Father, who disciplines His children for their good, so that they may share in His holiness and bear the fruit of righteousness.

In these verses, we see that God’s discipline is not a sign of rejection but of His love and commitment to our growth. Just as a father corrects his child to guide them toward maturity, so God allows trials and testing to refine our faith, perfect our character, and conform us to the image of Christ. Hebrews 12:10 says, “For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but He for our profit, that we might be partakers of His holiness.”

The ultimate goal of this discipline is righteousness, as verse 11 highlights: “Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.” Through the trials and the discipline that God allows, we are shaped and perfected, and we inherit His righteousness. This process of growth in faith and holiness leads us to spiritual maturity and greater conformity to God’s will.

If the author of our salvation, Jesus Christ, had to be taught obedience and made perfect through suffering, as Hebrews 2:10 and 5:8-9 state, how much more do we, as His followers, need to undergo similar processes of growth and refinement? Hebrews 2:10 says, “For it became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings.” Likewise, Hebrews 5:8-9 states, “Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; and being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him.”

Christ, being fully God and fully man, underwent the suffering and process of learning obedience in His human experience. His perfection through suffering and obedience was not for His own sake but for ours, so that He could become the perfect and ultimate Savior. If He, the sinless Son of God, needed to be made perfect through suffering, how much more do we, who are in need of transformation, need to undergo trials and discipline to grow in obedience and maturity?

This illustrates that spiritual maturity and obedience are not achieved apart from suffering, discipline, and testing. Just as Jesus was perfected through His obedience and suffering, we too are called to embrace the refining process, trusting that our trials are shaping us into His image and preparing us to inherit the righteousness of God.

Hebrews 12:1-2 serves as a powerful encouragement for us to persevere in faith, drawing strength from the great cloud of witnesses who have gone before us and from the example of Jesus Himself. The “great cloud of witnesses” are those mentioned in Hebrews 11, who endured trials, suffering, and persecution, yet remained faithful to God. They paved the way for us, demonstrating that faith, even in the midst of hardship, leads to victory.

The call to “lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us” highlights the need to remove anything that hinders our walk with God. Whether it’s sin or distractions, we are urged to set these aside and run the race with endurance. The key to enduring is “looking unto Jesus,” the ultimate example of faith, who is both the author and the finisher of our faith. He began the work of salvation, and He will complete it in us.

Jesus endured the ultimate suffering—”the cross, despising the shame”—for the joy set before Him, which was the redemption of humanity. By looking to His example, we are reminded to endure, not to become weary or faint in our minds, but to press on in faith. Jesus faced great opposition and contradiction from sinners, yet He remained steadfast. In doing so, He shows us that, though we may face trials and hardships, we are not alone, and our faith can be strengthened as we follow His example.

Sadly much of modern Christianity, particularly in certain circles, has shifted the focus of faith away from the perseverance, suffering, and spiritual growth that the Bible teaches. Instead, there is a prevalent teaching that emphasizes using faith as a means to accumulate wealth, material success, and earthly comfort. This prosperity gospel teaches that faith is a tool to receive worldly blessings, which distorts the true nature of faith as revealed in Scripture.

In contrast, Hebrews 12:1-2 calls believers to a life of endurance, to look to Jesus as the model of perseverance through trials and suffering. True faith, as exemplified by Christ, is not about attaining earthly success but about enduring through challenges and remaining faithful to God’s calling, regardless of circumstances. Jesus’ example of suffering and sacrifice for the joy set before Him teaches that faith’s purpose is not to gain material wealth but to grow in holiness, to endure suffering, and to ultimately inherit eternal life with God.

Unfortunately, many modern teachings emphasize an earthly view of faith, focusing on personal prosperity and worldly success, while neglecting the call to suffering, sacrifice, and spiritual maturity. This misinterpretation diverts the believer’s focus from the true purpose of faith—to live in obedience to God and to be conformed to the image of Christ, who, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross. Faith in the New Covenant is not about acquiring earthly possessions, but about being refined, strengthened, and sanctified through life’s trials and looking forward to eternal rewards.

“The Spirit of God has instructed us about ‘the steps of faith’ that we all must walk in—a model to follow—just as we are called to walk in the steps of that faith of our father Abraham, which he had being yet uncircumcised” (Romans 4:12). This verse speaks to the foundational nature of faith in the life of the believer. Abraham’s faith serves as a profound example, as he believed God’s promise before the covenant of circumcision was even given. His faith was not based on outward signs or rituals, but on a deep, trusting relationship with God.

The “steps of faith” refer to a life of obedience to God, even when the path ahead is unclear. Just as Abraham stepped out in faith, trusting God’s promises despite not knowing the outcome, so are we called to walk in faith, following God’s guidance and promises. The Spirit of God, who instructs us in these steps, reveals that true faith transcends external markers like circumcision, rituals, or works. It is about trusting God’s Word and walking in the obedience of faith, just as Abraham did, even before the full revelation of the covenant.

In walking in the steps of Abraham’s faith, we are learning to trust God beyond circumstances, relying on His promises rather than visible signs. This is the kind of faith that God honors, a faith that believes His Word, even when the fulfillment seems distant or the way uncertain.

The faith that we receive from God must be perfected, just as Abraham’s faith was perfected over time. Romans 4:20-21 speaks of Abraham’s unwavering faith: “He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; and being fully persuaded that, what he had promised, he was able also to perform.” Abraham’s faith was tested and refined through various trials and delays, but he remained steadfast, trusting God’s promises.

Similarly, the faith that God imparts to us is not meant to remain stagnant or underdeveloped. It is meant to grow, be tested, and be perfected. James 1:3-4 explains that “the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” Just as Abraham’s faith was perfected through the testing of God’s promises, our faith is strengthened and perfected through trials, endurance, and reliance on God’s faithfulness.

A perfect faith is not one that is without doubt or struggle, but one that, through the testing, becomes stronger and more resolute. It is a faith that does not stagger at God’s promises but stands firm, knowing that God is faithful to fulfill what He has spoken. Our faith must grow in the same way, becoming more and more strong and unwavering, reflecting the example set by Abraham, who trusted in God’s ability to fulfill His promises, even when they seemed impossible.

Many people seek shortcuts to spiritual maturity, such as fasting or other methods, in an attempt to expedite the things of the Spirit. While these practices are not inherently wrong and can be part of a sincere walk with God, they cannot replace the essential process of faith being tested and refined over time through trials and challenges. Just as a shortcut in any other area of life often bypasses necessary growth, seeking to shortcut spiritual maturity bypasses the essential trials that perfect faith.

Aged faith, the kind that has been “pickled” in trials and tests, is the kind of faith that God desires to perfect. It is through enduring hardship, facing challenges, and overcoming adversity that faith is strengthened, purified, and made steadfast. As James 1:3-4 teaches, “the trying of your faith worketh patience,” and this patience leads to a mature, complete faith—one that is “perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”

God’s way of perfecting faith often involves long seasons of growth where we are stretched and tested, where we are forced to rely on His promises rather than our own strength or quick fixes. Just like aged wine, which gains depth and richness over time, so does faith that has been tested in the furnace of affliction. This is the kind of faith that endures, that does not stagger at God’s promises, and that reflects His glory. So, while fasting and other practices can certainly enhance our spiritual life, they are not substitutes for the deep and enduring work that God does in us through trials, which perfect our faith according to His plan and timing.

The waiting itself is indeed a trial. It can be one of the most difficult aspects of the Christian walk because it challenges our patience, trust, and reliance on God’s timing. Waiting for God’s promises to be fulfilled, or for direction in life, can feel like a prolonged trial. In fact, the waiting period often becomes a test of faith in and of itself.

The waiting process refines us, teaching us to lean on God and trust that His timing is perfect, even when we don’t understand it. Psalm 27:14 encourages us, “Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.” Waiting calls for courage and endurance, and it is often in this season that our faith is truly tested.

As we wait, we are learning to surrender our own sense of control and timing to God. The longer the wait, the more we are tested in our willingness to trust that He knows what is best for us. It is a trial because it forces us to confront our impatience, our desires for instant gratification, and our lack of control.

But it is also a trial that has the potential to build a deeper, more enduring faith. As we endure in waiting, we become more aligned with God’s purposes and more conformed to the image of Christ, who waited on the Father and trusted in His perfect timing. Just like Abraham, who waited for God’s promise of a son for many years, or the Israelites, who waited in Egypt for deliverance, waiting is part of God’s refining process, preparing us to receive His promises when the time is right. It’s in the waiting that our faith matures, as we learn to depend on God, rather than our own strength or understanding.

When prayers aren’t answered right away, it is a call to hold on to faith, and it can be incredibly grievous. Waiting for an answer to prayer, especially when it feels like God is silent or distant, is one of the most challenging experiences for a believer. It tests our trust in God’s character and His timing, and it often brings us face to face with our fears, doubts, and anxieties.

However, this period of waiting is also where faith is refined. As the Psalmist says in Psalm 130:5, “I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in His word do I hope.” It’s in these moments of silence that we are called to trust not in our circumstances, but in God’s faithfulness to His promises. When answers are delayed, it can be a test of our patience, our endurance, and our commitment to believe that God is still at work, even when we can’t see immediate results.

It is grievous because our natural instinct is to seek immediate relief, to have our prayers answered according to our own timing and desires. But God’s ways are higher than our ways, and He often allows these times of waiting to stretch our faith, deepen our dependence on Him, and refine our character.

James 5:7-8 encourages us, “Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receives the early and latter rain. Be ye also patient; stablish your hearts: for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh.” Just as a farmer waits for the harvest, we are called to be patient, trusting that God is working in ways we cannot always see. Even when prayers seem unanswered, God is still moving, still refining us, and still at work in our lives.

So, while it is grievous, it is also an opportunity for faith to grow, for our relationship with God to deepen, and for our trust in His perfect will and timing to be strengthened. It may not be easy, but in the end, this kind of perseverance in faith produces the kind of character and spiritual maturity that God desires in us.

This period of waiting is a precious opportunity, even though it may feel challenging or grievous at times. Instead of falling into the trap of murmuring, complaining, or doubting, we are called to view it as a refining process—something that holds eternal significance. The Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 4:17, “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

When we endure trials with faith and patience, without giving in to murmuring or despair, we are aligning ourselves with God’s purpose for our growth and sanctification. The waiting period, though difficult, is designed by God to build character, develop perseverance, and deepen our trust in Him. By choosing to honor God through our faithfulness during the wait, we are storing up treasures in heaven, as it contributes to an eternal weight of glory that far outweighs our temporary suffering.

Instead of viewing waiting as a burden, we can see it as an opportunity for spiritual growth—an opportunity to show God that we trust Him even when the answer seems delayed. This perspective shifts our focus from the temporal discomfort to the eternal reward. Every moment of faithful waiting is seen by God, and He promises that these moments, though difficult, will yield something far greater in eternity.

In the midst of waiting, we can choose to glorify God by surrendering our will to His, trusting in His perfect timing, and resting in the assurance that He is working all things together for our good. This transforms the waiting from something that might cause frustration into something that strengthens our faith and prepares us for greater glory. The process may be hard, but the outcome—an eternal weight of glory—is worth it.

 

The TEST of TRUE FAITH: Submission, Love, and Obedience to God’s Word

Introduction

In today’s Christian landscape, many believers tend to disregard what might be considered the “little doctrines” of the Bible—instructions that earlier generations revered and obeyed with deep reverence. Practices such as a woman covering her head while praying or prophesying, submitting to her husband, or the idea that it is a shame for a man to have long hair and emulating Christ in everything—even to the extent of loving their wives as Christ loved the church—are often dismissed as outdated or irrelevant. Yet, are these teachings not part of sound doctrine? Does God value them, and why do many believers today set them aside?

These questions are critical because they reveal whether Christians truly walk in submission, love, and obedience to God. The Word of God calls us to be doers, not hearers only, lest we deceive ourselves (James 1:22). This article will explore the significance of these teachings, the reasons they are often disregarded, and their place in a life of faith that honors God.

Are These Instructions Part of Sound Doctrine?

The teachings, such as women covering their heads (1 Corinthians 11:5-6), submitting to their husbands (Ephesians 5:22-24), and the shame of long hair on men (1 Corinthians 11:14), are rooted in Scripture. These instructions were not arbitrary cultural norms but part of the apostolic teachings to the early church. They hold weight because they reflect God’s design and order.

These doctrines often fall under the category of “church order” or “practical outworkings of faith.” They reveal deeper principles: the relationship between Christ and the Church, the roles of men and women, and the acknowledgment of God’s authority in creation.

Additionally, the phrase “because of angels” in 1 Corinthians 11:10 connects the practice of head coverings to the spiritual realm, emphasizing its profound significance beyond human understanding.

“Because of Angels”

Paul’s reference to angels in 1 Corinthians 11:10 underscores the importance of head coverings as a sign of authority. This phrase has profound implications:

  1. Angels as Witnesses: Angels are present during worship and observe the order and reverence displayed by believers. They recognize and respect God’s divine hierarchy, and head coverings symbolize a believer’s acknowledgment of this order.
  2. The Role of Angels in Spiritual Realms: Angels operate within God’s divine order, and any deviation from this order by humans can cause disruption. By maintaining proper signs of authority, believers align themselves with God’s established structure, which angels uphold.
  3. Protection and Submission: Some interpretations suggest that adhering to God’s order, symbolized by head coverings, offers spiritual protection. It demonstrates submission to God’s authority and prevents believers from stepping into realms of spiritual vulnerability.
  4. A Cosmic Testimony: What believers do in worship impacts not only the earthly but also the heavenly realm. Head coverings serve as a visible testimony to the interconnectedness of God’s creation and the acknowledgment of His authority.
  5. Repercussions of Neglecting Angelic Roles: Ignoring the responsibilities of angels in human affairs can have spiritual consequences. Angels are tasked with upholding divine order and protecting believers. Disregarding their role could lead to spiritual isolation, loss of protection, and dishonor in worship. It reflects a lack of reverence for God’s design, potentially disrupting the harmony between earthly and heavenly realms.

This connection to angels reveals that these practices are far from arbitrary; they reflect the profound spiritual realities in which believers participate.

Submission and Christ-like Love as Acts of Faith

The structure of headship and submission outlined in 1 Corinthians 11:3—”the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is man, and the head of Christ is God”—is not about domination but divine order. Christ’s submission to the Father, though equal with Him, is the ultimate model for us (Philippians 2:5-8). Submission and headship within marriage reflect this relationship.

For the man: Loving his wife as Christ loved the Church (Ephesians 5:25) requires self-sacrifice. Christ gave everything for His bride, even His life. Similarly, a husband must lead with humility, service, and a Spirit-transformed heart.

For the woman: Submitting to her husband “as unto the Lord” (Ephesians 5:22) is an act of trust and love, both for her husband and for Christ. This submission is not servility but a reflection of God’s wisdom and order.

Both roles demand dying to self, making submission and sacrificial love acts of worship and proof of devotion to Christ. “You cannot say that you love Christ when you can’t love the humans that are in front of you.” Without love and submission in earthly relationships, our profession of faith is hollow.

Trials as Tests of Faith

Trials and testing of our faith are imperative. These tests, often likened to passing through fire, are designed to refine and strengthen us. As Peter writes, “The trial of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:7). He further encourages believers not to be surprised by fiery trials, as they are a means of partaking in Christ’s sufferings (1 Peter 4:12-14).

Consider Abraham, the father of faith. God tested him through various trials, proving the authenticity of his faith before counting him righteous. James highlights that Abraham’s faith was made perfect through his works during these trials (James 2:22). Similarly, believers are called to walk in the steps of Abraham’s faith (Romans 4:12), demonstrating obedience and trust in God through every test.

The Adornment of Inner Beauty

The Bible emphasizes inner beauty over outward adornment. Peter writes, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Peter 3:3-4).

Modern Christians often prioritize external appearance, influenced by worldly trends, over the biblical call to modesty and reverence. Such pursuits lead to spiritual decay, shifting focus from godly virtues to fleeting, superficial values. In contrast, godly women of old, like Sarah, are commended for their trust in God and their respect for their husbands (1 Peter 3:5-6). The adornment that pleases God is the beauty of holiness, not the fleeting allure of worldly fashion.

The Danger of Walking in the Flesh

Paul warns Timothy of the perilous times in the last days: “For men shall be lovers of their own selves… lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof” (2 Timothy 3:2-5). This describes the state of many professing Christians who prioritize self-gratification over self-denial.

Walking in the flesh manifests in rejecting biblical principles, such as submission, headship, and modesty. Paul warns: “Now the works of the flesh are manifest… they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God” (Galatians 5:19-21). Such behavior leads to spiritual ruin and is evidence of a heart that does not truly abide in Christ.

The Fear of God and Perseverance in Faith

Scripture repeatedly calls believers to live with reverence and fear of God: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Philippians 2:12). Without the fear of God, people walk in rebellion, deceiving themselves into thinking they can live as they please under God’s grace (Romans 6:1-2).

The example of Israel in the wilderness serves as a stern warning. Though they experienced God’s deliverance, most perished because of unbelief and disobedience. Paul warns: “Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12). This reminds us that salvation is not static; it requires perseverance and faithfulness.

A Call to Faithful Obedience

In these last days, as lawlessness abounds and love grows cold (Matthew 24:12), Christians are called to stand apart. Faithful obedience to God’s Word—even in the “little things”—is a testimony to the world and evidence of true faith.

Paul’s charge to Timothy applies to us: “Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season… For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine” (2 Timothy 4:2-3). “Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them: for in doing this thou shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee” (1 Timothy 4:16). Let us hold fast to the truth, walking in submission, love, and reverence for God, so that we may be found faithful when Christ returns.

Conclusion

The “little doctrines” of submission, headship, modesty, and reverence reflect profound spiritual truths. They are not burdens but blessings, drawing us closer to God and aligning us with His design. As believers, we must walk in trembling and fear, examining ourselves to ensure our faith is genuine (2 Corinthians 13:5).

Let us encourage one another to embrace a life of obedience, love, and submission—not to earn salvation but as a joyful response to the One who saved us. May we endure to the end and offer a countercultural testimony of holiness and faithfulness, bringing glory to God in all things. “May we be found faithful when Christ returns, enduring to the end for His glory.”

“Divine Intervention: The Transformative Power of FAITH and GRACE”

In theological contemplation, a profound journey unfolds as we navigate the complex interplay of faith, grace, and divine intervention. The core or essence of faith—God’s gift that stirs the soul—is akin to a seed sown in fertile soil, which is the soul of man, and gets germinated under the guiding influence of the Holy Spirit. This transformative process, marked by the union of heaven and earth, illuminates the way to spiritual rebirth and renewal. Through the lens of Scripture and personal reflection, we explore the profound impact of faith and grace in awakening the dormant spirit, ushering in a new life illuminated by divine light. Join me on a thought-provoking exploration of the sacred union between faith and grace, where the hand of God extends to illuminate hearts and minds, leading souls from darkness to light and from bondage to freedom.

“Faith comes by hearing” (Romans 10:17, meaning God’s Word awakens belief)! When a weary soul—the good ground, ready to receive in his God-given free will, yet moved by the convincing and convicting power of the Holy Spirit—opens the soil (door) of his heart (soul) to the knock of the Word seed (Revelation 3:20, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock”), and absorbs it or embraces Him, a blessed union takes place. This Word comes wrapped in faith—the Spirit of His Son in our hearts, crying, “Abba, Father” (Galatians 4:6), given unto us as His Holy Spirit (1 Thessalonians 4:8; 1 Corinthians 2:12). This applies even to those led by the Spirit of God into a spiritually mature state (Romans 8:14; Hebrews 5:13-14). Heaven meets earth in that moment: “When wisdom enters your heart, and knowledge is pleasant unto thy soul; discretion shall preserve thee, understanding shall keep thee: to deliver thee” (Proverbs 2:10-12), for Christ is “the power of God, and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:24). “The entrance of thy words gives light; it gives understanding unto the simple” (Psalm 119:130). The Bible calls this being “born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which lives and abides forever” (1 Peter 1:23).

The formerly barren area quickly begins to bloom because of this heavenly intervention. “This desolate land is become like the garden of Eden” (Ezekiel 36:35). “For the Lord shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody” (Isaiah 51:3). “For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost” (Romans 14:17). This rebirth, where heaven meets earth, isn’t just a beginning—it’s a destination. The spirit is alive because of the righteousness that God imputes unto us (Romans 8:10, Amplified: “the Spirit is life because of righteousness”; see also Romans 4:6; Psalm 32:2—“Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputes not iniquity/sin, and in whose spirit there is no guile”). “Now, being dead in your sins and the uncircumcision of your flesh, hath he quickened together with him, having forgiven you all trespasses” (Colossians 2:13). And now, “YE ARE COME unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect” (Hebrews 12:22-23)—those who “cannot sin” (1 John 5:18), created “after God in righteousness and true holiness” (Ephesians 4:24), the saints in light (Colossians 1:12), who abide in Him (1 John 3:6)—“and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaks better things than that of Abel” (Hebrews 12:24).

This rebirth sets the stage for an even deeper reality. For “God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. We (now) have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us” (2 Corinthians 4:6-7; see also 12:9; 1 Corinthians 1:27; 2:3-4). Our intellect was blind before the birth of this sacred seed within the heart. But Jesus anointed and awakened our inner eyes (John 9:6; Isaiah 42:7: “to open the blind eyes”); “thy Word hath quickened me” (Psalm 119:50); “And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1, 5; Colossians 2:13). For “by grace—a free, undeserved gift—are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8).

Some might argue that God never imposes His will, suggesting He persuades us repeatedly, leaving the ultimate choice to accept Him in our hands—an idea rooted in human free will, as Arminians might say. But is that correct? I don’t think so, and I find the Bible doesn’t fully support it either. Instead, I had to acknowledge that God had to save us, that He had to take the initiative, that He had to declare, “Let there be light,” and that light had to illuminate our hearts (2 Corinthians 4:6). Upon close inspection of the holy writings, I declare that no creature could turn down or thwart God’s invitation. “Many receive calls” (everyone is invited), but only a chosen few are “accepted in the beloved” (Ephesians 1:6). They are called “the elect of God,” “the remnant of Israel,” or “the residue of men.” God’s sovereign choice shines through Scripture: “He hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world” (Ephesians 1:4); “God hath from the beginning chosen us to salvation” (2 Thessalonians 2:13); “The election hath obtained it, and the rest were BLINDED” (Romans 11:7); “Knowing, brethren beloved, your election of God” (1 Thessalonians 1:4). If our efforts were involved, how could we call it grace, election, or God’s gift? God’s love takes the lead: “He commends his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8); “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19); and Jesus declares, “Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you” (John 15:16).

The first thing the Lord commanded Apostle Paul to do was “to open their eyes” (by the power of the Holy Ghost and the Word of God) “and turn them from darkness to light, and from Satan’s control to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and inheritance among those who are cleansed by faith in him” (Acts 26:18). Why would God have to open our eyes if “free will” could choose? A soul must be saved, delivered by the preaching of the cross. A slave must be released before he or she may say, “I am free,” and someone must pay for their liberty. For “it is God which works in you both TO WILL and TO DO of his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13). Yes, we used free will, but it had to be REVIVED by God before it could function. The quickening occurs first. The dead must be brought back to life before they can be called alive. God said, “I will cause breath to enter you, and ye shall live” (Ezekiel 37:5).

‘Total depravity’—the idea that sin has corrupted every part of human nature—implies that it has eroded our ability to exercise free will. I didn’t come to this through some system or school of thought; it’s what the Scriptures pressed upon me as I wrestled with them. I have free will, no doubt about it, but left to myself, it only tends toward evil since my soul is dead—spiritually lifeless apart from God—and I am unable to use the realm of my will that still exists within me to achieve anything good: ‘For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not’ (Romans 7:18). As I dug deeper, I saw this wasn’t just my story but a truth woven throughout the Word. ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?’ (Jeremiah 17:9). Even our best intentions falter, for ‘there is none righteous, no, not one… there is none that seeketh after God’ (Romans 3:10-11). I once thought I could reach for God on my own, but every other notion dissipated when I read, ‘Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? then may ye also do good, that are accustomed to do evil’ (Jeremiah 13:23). It hit me: my will, though real, was bound—enslaved to sin—until God’s voice broke through. ‘The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God. They are all gone aside, they are all together become filthy’ (Psalm 14:2-3). What I gleaned wasn’t a label like ‘depravity,’ but a stark reality: apart from God’s intervention, my free will couldn’t climb out of the pit—it needed Him to lift me. What benefit does it then offer? Is it able to save me? If my free will could assist me, I wouldn’t require saving grace…

Are we able then to confirm “irresistible grace”—God’s overwhelming love that draws us to Him without fail? While some believe grace can be resisted, I see in Scripture that God’s call is effectual: “As many as were ORDAINED TO ETERNAL LIFE BELIEVED” (Acts 13:48). Isn’t it true that it’s this irresistible grace that does the heavy lifting for us?

This divine initiative isn’t just a cosmic truth—it’s personal, as I’ve seen in my own life. I still don’t understand how and why the Lord reached out to me and saved me, even though I was the chief of sinners, the weakest, and most broken of them all. Before I would even know Christ Jesus personally or be saved by Him, I saw this mystery play out in others too. Many of my friends tried and longed to come out of their sinful lives of misery. They would say, ‘If I come to Christ, I would go around and save all those around me’—a noble dream—but then, in the same breath, they’d confess, ‘I just can’t submit to Christ.’ What a juxtapose! It struck me: their hearts yearned for freedom, yet something held them back, as if their wills were tethered to the very chains they despised. And there I was, in my own pit, crying for redemption while they longed to do things for Christ. Deep pangs overwhelmed me to the point that I felt I would die—I longed for death rather than living like that. If Jesus had not saved me at that point, I wouldn’t be alive today, learning of His goodness and sharing this life with you. It baffled me then, and it echoes now: how could I, or they, bridge that gap when our strength faltered? It still baffles me how the Lord saved me. I could trace His protection and care back to when I was dead in sin, and He wooed me with His eternal Spirit. How could I be saved if it weren’t for God’s grace? Can I proudly claim my first step of having faith and trust in Christ?…

Wouldn’t that imply that I chose Christ? Jesus Christ is the author of our faith, isn’t He? Hebrews 12:2; Ephesians 2:8. Where would I find such characteristics within myself when everything in my life was rot and death? The only explanation I can conceive of is that God foreknew and predestined us (Romans 8:29-30), chose us in Christ (Ephesians 1:5, 11), and elected us according to His foreknowledge (1 Peter 1:2). I obtained the precious faith to respond; IT CAME TO ME, not the other way around—“The faith… which is by him hath given” (Galatians 3:23; 2 Peter 1:1)—“whose heart THE LORD OPENED” (Acts 16:14).

What began in my heart reflects a plan that stretches back to eternity. God’s grace did not arrive on the day you believed—it was set in motion when “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8) poured out His love. “God commends his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). That’s when God lavished His grace on humanity, which is why Abraham and his descendants were spared and justified by faith. Didn’t they all “eat the same spiritual meat” and drink from “that spiritual Rock that followed them: and that Rock was Christ” (1 Corinthians 10:3-4)? It was Christ in the wilderness congregation whom their fathers revolted against and refused to obey, casting Him out (Acts 7:37-39)—the prophet Moses predicted, saying, “A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up… him shall ye hear” (Deuteronomy 18:15; Acts 3:22, 37). “When the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son” (Galatians 4:4), “who verily was foreordained before the foundation of the world, but was manifest in these last times for you” (1 Peter 1:20). Every time the Israelites offered a sacrifice on the altar to atone for their transgressions, God accepted it as an offering anticipating the cross of Calvary, on which the blood of His own Son would be spilled. This is because God saw this Lamb slain from the beginning of time, sacrificed in His heart. Witnesses of it were the apostles of the Lamb, who declare, “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life; for the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear witness, and shew unto you that eternal life, which was with the Father, and was manifested unto us” (1 John 1:1-2).

God’s love for us was made evident in this: “He sent his only Son into the world so that we could live through him” (1 John 4:9). Jesus said, “Many prophets and kings have desired to see his day but have not seen them” (Luke 10:24); “Of which salvation the prophets have enquired and searched diligently, who prophesied of the grace that should come unto you” (1 Peter 1:10), “which the angels desire to look into” (1 Peter 1:12) and witnessed (1 Timothy 3:16). “The Son of God was manifest for this purpose, that he might destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8) and deliver “us who through fear of death were all our lifetime subject to bondage” (Hebrews 2:15). The day grace and truth were revealed in Christ was His birth—“For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ” (John 1:17). Emmanuel, meaning “God with us” (Matthew 1:23), “God was manifest in the flesh” (1 Timothy 3:16), “the Lord from heaven” (1 Corinthians 15:47). “The Lord hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jeremiah 31:3). “For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to ALL MEN” (Titus 2:11); “now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself” (Hebrews 9:26). “We who, because of him, believe in God” (1 Peter 1:21). “For as by one man’s disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous” (Romans 5:19).

In addition to dethroning sin and its power, His sacrifice fulfilled the Father’s promise to pour the Spirit of God upon all flesh. A period of grace was ushered in for the entirety of creation with the arrival of the Spirit.

In this contemplative journey exploring the interplay of faith, grace, and divine intervention, it becomes evident that the transformative power of these elements—rooted in God’s sovereign love—is profound and life-altering. The narrative underscores the pivotal role of faith as a seed sown in fertile soil, germinating under the influence of the Holy Spirit. This transformative process symbolizes a rebirth and renewal, where the union of heaven and earth brings about a spiritual awakening. Moreover, the discussion on grace emphasizes that salvation is a gift from God, underscoring the divine initiative in the process of redemption. The concept of election and God’s sovereign choice in salvation is highlighted, challenging the notion of human free will as the sole determinant in accepting or rejecting God’s invitation. Ultimately, the text invites reflection on the profound mysteries of faith, grace, and divine intervention, illustrating a journey of spiritual growth and enlightenment guided by the hand of God.

Yet, the New Testament reveals a stark truth: not everyone senses their need for a Savior. Some souls stand content, convinced of their own wholeness. They are the “righteous” Jesus spoke of—not righteous in God’s eyes, but in their own. To them, their virtues gleam like polished armor, hiding the decrepitude beneath. Scripture calls all humanity depraved—“There is no one righteous, not even one” (Romans 3:10)—yet these refuse to see it. Their sanctimony is their doom, a self-made prison barring them from the light. Picture a man standing tall, chest puffed with pride, declaring his soul whole—while the Savior he claims to follow passes him by, seeking the broken instead. Jesus said it plainly: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:13). Again, “It is not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick” (Matthew 9:12). His mission was clear—yet so many miss it, blinded by a righteousness of their own making. This is the paradox of pride: those who need Him most often see Him least, while the wretched and weary find their way to His feet. And worse, even those who’ve tasted His grace can forget its source, trading humility for a gavel. So, as we marvel at the grace that saves, let us never lose sight of our own poverty apart from Him—for it is in that brokenness that His light shines brightest.