Jesus Archives - The Hermeneutical Quill

SUPERMEN of God: The Spirit’s Power in BROKEN VESSELS

The world dreams of superhumans—heroes with extraordinary strength, wisdom, or courage, immortalized in myths and modern tales. Yet, these fantasies are not mere fiction but shadows of a profound reality: through the Spirit of the Living God, ordinary men and women become supermen of God, achieving feats that transcend human limits. From Samson’s raw power to David’s divinely guided precision, the Bible reveals a legacy of flawed, broken individuals transformed into giants of faith. These stories, accomplished in imperfect bodies, point to an even greater future when God’s children will shine in glorified, perfect bodies, fully unleashed in His power.

The Spirit’s Forte: Crafting Supermen

Superhuman prowess is not the product of human effort or imagination but the forte of the Spirit of God. Throughout Scripture, the Holy Spirit empowers unlikely vessels to accomplish the impossible, turning shepherds into warriors, stammerers into spokesmen, and sinners into saints. This divine enablement defies natural laws and human expectations, revealing God’s glory through human weakness.

Consider Samson, a man whose life was marked by recklessness and moral failure, yet chosen by God to deliver Israel. When the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, he became a force of nature: tearing a lion apart with his bare hands (Judges 14:6), slaying a thousand Philistines with a donkey’s jawbone (Judges 15:15), and toppling a pagan temple in his final act (Judges 16:30). Samson’s strength was not his own but a gift of the Spirit, proving that God’s power shines brightest in broken vessels.

Then there is David, the shepherd boy whose heart was attuned to God. Facing Goliath, a giant who mocked Israel’s God, David chose five smooth stones from a stream, visualizing victory through faith (1 Samuel 17:40). With a single, Spirit-guided shot, he felled the enemy, showcasing not just skill but divine artistry. David’s life—his military triumphs, poetic brilliance, and kingdom-building—reflects the Spirit’s transformative touch, elevating a flawed man into a “man after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14).

Giants of Faith in a Fallen World

Samson and David are but two among many biblical figures who became supermen of God. Moses, despite his speech impediment, parted the Red Sea and led a nation (Exodus 14). Elijah outran a chariot and called fire from heaven (1 Kings 18:46, 18:38). Daniel survived a lions’ den unscathed (Daniel 6:22). Each acted in a fallen, imperfect body, yet the Spirit equipped them to transcend their limitations. Their stories are not myths but historical testimonies of God’s power at work.

These feats were not for personal glory but for God’s redemptive purposes. Samson weakened Israel’s oppressors, David prefigured Christ’s eternal kingdom, and Elijah confronted idolatry. Their superhuman acts, accomplished through the Spirit, served as signs of God’s sovereignty and love for His people.

The Ultimate Superhuman Feat: Jesus, the Son of Man

Among these examples stands Jesus, the Son of Man, who accomplished the ultimate superhuman feat through the Spirit of God: defeating the enemy of our souls. Anointed by the Spirit at His baptism (Luke 3:22), Jesus walked on water, healed the sick, and raised the dead (Matthew 14:25, John 11:43). Yet, His greatest triumph came through the cross and resurrection, where He disarmed spiritual powers (Colossians 2:15) and destroyed the devil’s work (1 John 3:8). By the Spirit’s power, He shattered the chains of sin and death, offering redemption to all. Jesus’ victory, accomplished in a human body, fulfills and surpasses the feats of all who came before Him.

The Promise of Glorified Bodies

If God’s Spirit could work such wonders through fallen, broken bodies, what might be possible in the glorified, perfect bodies promised to believers? Scripture assures us that at the resurrection, we will receive imperishable, spiritual bodies like Christ’s (1 Corinthians 15:42–44, Philippians 3:21). Free from sin and decay, these bodies will fully reflect God’s image, unhindered by the frailties that limit us now. Imagine Samson’s strength without his flaws, David’s precision without his failures, or Elijah’s zeal without exhaustion. In this glorified state, God’s children will embody the ultimate superhuman reality, living in perfect harmony with the Spirit’s power.

A Reality, Not a Myth

The world’s fascination with superheroes reflects a God-given longing for transcendence, but true superhumanity is found only in the Spirit of God. Unlike secular myths or fictional heroes, biblical supermen like Samson, David, and Jesus were real, their feats documented as acts of divine intervention. Their stories challenge us to look beyond human potential to divine possibility. As Paul writes, “My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Through the Spirit, God transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary, not for our glory but for His.

A Call to Embrace the Spirit’s Power

The legacy of these supermen of God is not confined to the past. The same Spirit that empowered Samson, David, and Jesus dwells in believers today (John 14:17, Acts 2:38). We are called to live boldly, trusting the Spirit to work through our weaknesses to accomplish God’s purposes. Whether in acts of courage, compassion, or faith, we can become vessels of His power in a broken world. And as we await our glorified bodies, we carry the hope of a future where our potential in Christ is fully realized.

Conclusion: The Spirit’s Eternal Triumph

The supermen of God—Samson with his unstoppable strength, David with his Spirit-guided artistry, and countless others—demonstrate that superhumanity is no myth but a reality crafted by the Spirit of the Living God. Their feats, accomplished in fallen bodies, point to the ultimate victory of Jesus, the Son of Man, who defeated the enemy of our souls. All these were done through and by the Spirit of God. As we marvel at their legacy, we anticipate the day when, in glorified bodies, we will fully embody the divine power that transforms the ordinary into the eternal. Until then, may we walk in the Spirit, becoming supermen and superwomen of God for His glory.

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)

💬 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
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The CURSE of SANCTIMONY and the Grace That Breaks It

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. Sanctimony, it seems, is both a barrier to salvation and a temptation after it—a curse that only God’s grace can break.

The Unsaved: Sanctimony as a Curse

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.

Think of the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable, praying loudly in the temple: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers” (Luke 18:11). He’s not pleading for mercy; he’s boasting of merit. Contrast him with the tax collector, head bowed, crying, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13). One leaves justified; the other does not. We see this today: the moralist insisting, “I’m a good person,” the religious legalist tallying deeds, the secular humanist smug in self-sufficiency. Pride isn’t just a religious trap—it’s cultural. In an age of cancel culture, where moral superiority fuels outrage, sanctimony thrives, blinding people to their own flaws. They cannot turn to God like a child (Matthew 18:3)—humility is an impossibility to such. Their pride, like a stone wall, keeps grace at bay.

The Saved: The Leaven of the Pharisee

The trap doesn’t end with salvation. Those made whole by the Spirit of Christ can fall into a subtler snare: the leaven of the Pharisee. Jesus warned, “Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees” (Matthew 16:6)—a creeping pride that rises unnoticed. Some, once broken and redeemed, begin to sit as sanctimonious judges, condemning the weak who stumble beneath their lofty standards. They forget the grace that lifted them from the mire, deeming themselves holier than the rest.

Consider Augustine, the early church theologian. Before conversion, he was a proud rhetorician, reveling in intellect and sensuality, blind to his need for God. Even after salvation, he wrestled with pride, confessing how easily it returned. Today, it’s the believer, rescued from addiction, sneering at the struggling drunk; the church elder, once lost in sin, wielding doctrine like a whip rather than a balm. Worse, this evil stance can hinder the whole work of God to save the lost and brokenhearted. Their mission—to heal those in the slough of despond, deep in sin—shifts to playing church organizations, upholding structures over souls. How can anyone feel the pain or wretched state of another when the one called to tend the lost is hardened by pride and loftiness? It’s a devastating betrayal: they obstruct the Spirit’s work, shutting their hearts to His fruits meant to reach a dying world. They’ve traded the cross for a pedestal, forgetting Paul’s words: “By grace you have been saved through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8-9). Had God not intervened, they’d be no different from the wretched they scorn. Their righteousness isn’t theirs—it’s His—yet the leaven of pride blinds them to this truth.

The Impossibility of Salvation—And Its Possibility

Now we see why not everyone can be saved. Pride, that impossible wall, bars the soul from grace. The sanctimonious—whether unsaved or backslidden—cannot humble themselves as children must. Their self-sufficiency is a curse no human effort can break. To kneel, to cry out, “I am the sick one, the sinner”—this is beyond them. Left to themselves, they are lost.

Yet Jesus offers a breathtaking twist: “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). Even a soul drenched in pride can be pierced by grace—if the Father wills it. “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them,” Christ declares (John 6:44). How does He draw them? Sometimes through suffering, as with Job, whose pride was broken by loss until he saw God anew (Job 42:5-6). Sometimes through revelation, as with Paul, struck blind on the Damascus road to face his zeal’s folly (Acts 9:3-9). Sometimes through love, as with the prodigal son, welcomed home despite his shame (Luke 15:20-24). Salvation isn’t a human achievement; it’s a divine act. The sanctimonious soul, hardened beyond hope, might yet crumble—if God chooses to draw them near. This isn’t a promise that all will be saved, but a testament to God’s power: no heart is too proud for Him to reach, though many will resist His call.

The Remedy: Grace and Humility

What, then, is the way forward? For the unsaved, it’s a breaking—shattering the illusion of self-righteousness to see their need. For the saved, it’s a staying broken—clinging to grace as their lifeline. Both must return to the childlike faith Jesus demands, a dependence that boasts in nothing but Him. “Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 1:31), Paul writes, for apart from God’s mercy, we are all the base things of the world—chosen not for our merit, but His glory (1 Corinthians 1:27-28).

How do we live this? Through prayer, confessing our pride daily—“Search me, God, and know my heart” (Psalm 139:23). Through community, where the broken sharpen one another, as iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17). Through service, washing the feet of the fallen as Jesus did (John 13:14), remembering we were once them. The saved must never forget: it’s grace that saves and grace that sustains. To judge the broken is to deny the cross that redeemed us—and to hinder the Spirit’s work. Instead, let us weep with, lift up, and walk alongside those still lost.

Conclusion: The Father’s Draw

Salvation eludes the proud not because God cannot save, but because they will not see. Their sanctimony—before or after grace—is a veil only the Father can lift, a hardness that can derail His mission to the lost. In a world where pride fuels both religious hypocrisy and cultural wars, the call remains: yield to the One who chooses the weak to shame the strong. Where human will fails, divine grace prevails—if only He draws them near. For the unsaved, it’s a summons to surrender. For the saved, it’s a plea to abide, lest we obstruct the Spirit’s healing flow to a broken world. Will we resist, or kneel? The answer lies not in our strength, but in His.

From LITTLE FAITH to Precious GRACE: The Disciples’ Journey and Ours*

Introduction: The Spark

Peter’s boots were still wet from the Galilean fishing boats when he stepped onto the storm-tossed sea. Waves churned, wind screamed, and for a fleeting heartbeat, he walked—walked!—toward Jesus. Then his eyes snagged on the chaos, his heart sank faster than his feet, and down he plunged, swallowed by doubt. “O you of little faith,” Jesus said, voice slicing through the gale, “why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31). I used to hear that as a slap—Peter, believe harder. But lately, I’ve wondered: what if it wasn’t about faith’s size? What if Jesus was peeling back the sodden layers of Peter’s soul—and all the disciples’—to show them something raw, something frail, something crying for Him?

This isn’t a one-off slip. The Gospels thrum with it: “O you of little faith” rings out like a haunting refrain, from storms to bread baskets to a withered fig tree. By Matthew 16:8, it’s the third bread crisis, and they’re still blind. I started asking—why? Was Jesus just prodding their weakness, or was He sowing something deeper? What I found wasn’t a scolding but a story: a windswept journey from sinking in doubt to fishing for souls, from human lack to divine grace, all borne on the Spirit’s wings. It’s their story—and ours. Step into the boat; let’s ride the waves together.

The Deficiency Exposed

Picture this: the sun bleeds low over Galilee, and 5,000 hungry faces press in. The disciples clutch five loaves, two fish—barely a fisherman’s lunch. “Send them away,” they mutter, practical men with empty hands (Matthew 14:15). Jesus smirks, blesses the scraps, and suddenly they’re staggering through the crowd, hauling 12 baskets of leftovers—bread spilling, mouths agape. Fast forward: 4,000 now, seven loaves, a few fish—seven baskets left, crumbs still clinging to their tunics (Matthew 15:32-38). They’ve touched the miracle, felt its pulse. Yet, in Matthew 16:8, they’re on a boat again, breadless, voices hushed: “We forgot the loaves.” Jesus spins, eyes blazing: “O you of little faith, why are you whispering about this? Don’t you remember the five loaves for the five thousand, or the seven for the four thousand? Do you not yet perceive?”

Three times they’ve tripped this wire—bread, lack, doubt. Peter could wrestle nets in a squall, but walking on water? He sank, legs buckling, waves mocking. They could steer through storms, but calm one? They cowered, boat pitching, fear choking them (Matthew 8:26). Jesus keeps yanking them from their turf—fish, boats, grit—into a wild, supernatural deep where their tricks unravel. It’s no fluke. He’s not quizzing their recall; He’s stripping them bare. “You can’t do this,” He’s saying, voice soft but steel-edged. “Your hands are empty, your hearts flicker—don’t you see?”

They don’t—not yet. They’ve walked with the Prince of Life, watched Him snap nature’s spine, yet they grip doubt like a lifeline. It’s not just a lapse; it’s human degeneracy, a soul-sickness Jeremiah pins: “The heart is deceitful above all things, desperately sick” (17:9). Jesus knows it—He’s cracking it wide, not to shame them, but to show them their “utter worthlessness” without Him. Step one: expose the lack. Step two’s brewing.

By Matthew 17, the stakes climb higher. An epileptic man writhes, demon-tossed, and the disciples stand powerless—nets empty again (17:16). Jesus heals him, then turns, voice taut: ‘O faithless generation… If you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, this mountain moves’ (17:17, 20). A grain? They didn’t even have that, not a crumb. Their lack wasn’t just little; it was lethal—dead wood without the Spirit’s spark. Yet Jesus doesn’t discard them; He’s pointing, again, to the gulf only He can fill. “Their nil faith wasn’t the end—it was the forge.”

The Need for a Savior

When Jesus called, ‘Follow me,’ it wasn’t just to teach them tricks—it was to torch their self-sufficiency. He dragged them from familiar nets into a wild sea of storms, scarcity, and seizing demons, where every wave and wail stripped them bare. The natural world’s grip—vicious, unyielding—left them helpless, and that was the point. Only in the muck of their lack could they taste the reality: apart from Him, they were nothing.

“Why do you doubt?” Jesus asked, hauling Peter from the waves, water streaming from his cloak, beard dripping like a sodden net. It’s three words that slash deep, a blade to the marrow. He’d ask it again in the boat, wind snarling through the rigging: “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 8:26). And again, breadless and muttering like scolded kids: “Why don’t you perceive?” (Matthew 16:8). He’s not fishing for excuses—John says He “knew what was in man” (2:25). He’s holding up a cracked mirror, and the reflection’s stark: Peter’s legs trembling under the waves, the Twelve white-knuckling the boat’s edge, their hushed panic over a loaf they forgot. This isn’t a stumble—it’s a gulf, a soul-deep fracture no human can ford.

Peter sank because waves don’t kneel to fishermen’s swagger. The disciples gripped the boat because storms scoff at sailors’ guile. They fretted over bread—three times!—because miracles don’t root in hearts curled inward, hearts Jeremiah calls “desperately sick.” They’d seen Him turn scraps into feasts, yet their faith flickered like a guttering wick. “With men it is impossible,” Jesus would say (Matthew 19:26), and here’s the proof: even with the Son of God in their bow, they’re deficient, degenerate, adrift. But that’s the brilliance—He’s not shaming them; He’s showing them. Every “why” is a lantern swinging in the dark, every “little faith” a blazing sign: you need Me.

They had to feel this—their “utter worthlessness” gnawing at their pride—to crave the Savior standing there, dripping with sea and grace. He’s the “author and perfecter of faith” (Hebrews 12:2), not them. “Apart from me you can do nothing,” He’d say (John 15:5), and they’re living it—sinking, shaking, muttering proof. This isn’t the end; it’s the pivot. He’s splitting them open for a gift they can’t clutch alone.

The Promise of Greater Works

Jesus didn’t stop at miracles—He was kindling a wildfire. “Greater works than these will you do,” He promised, voice steady as dawn igniting Galilee, “because I go to the Father” (John 14:12). He raised Lazarus, shroud unraveling, bones creaking back to breath (John 11:44). He fed thousands, baskets brimming, kids giggling with fish-stained fingers. But He locked eyes with these roughnecks—Peter stinking of fish, Matthew with ink-stained palms—and saw a tidal wave: “Follow me, and I’ll make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19). Not just bodies jolted from tombs, but souls ripped from death’s jaws—thousands, millions, a net tearing across time.

Lazarus staggered out, alive but bound for dust again. Peter’s Pentecost sermon? Three thousand souls blazed awake in a single gust (Acts 2:41), eternal sparks stoked by the Word. Jesus hushed a storm for a boatful; the disciples preached through tempests to nations, chains rattling, hearts splitting wide. Every sign was a spark—water-walking taught Peter to leap, bread-breaking taught trust, storm-stilling taught awe. He wasn’t just patching leaks; He was training them to wield His power, bigger, bolder, unbound. “I go to the Father,” He said—His exit was their launch, the Spirit their torch (Acts 1:8).

He raised the dead to prove He could; He trained them to raise the spiritually dead because He would—through them. Their “little faith” was a seed, bruised in the deep, yearning for the Spirit’s rain to burst it open. Greater works weren’t a whim—they were His design, and He was rigging the nets to rip.

Jesus didn’t stop at their lack—He unveiled the gift’s reach. ‘This kind ‘comes out only by prayer and fasting’ (Matthew 17:21)—faith as a cry, not a grunt. Then, ‘Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven’ (18:18). Their ‘little faith’ had crumbled, but the faith He’d plant—imputed, alive—would crack mountains, leash darkness, ripple eternally. Helplessness forged them; this was their fire.

The Spirit’s Precious Gift

They stood on the Mount of Olives, necks craned, watching Him rise—robes fluttering, sky swallowing their Master like a flame snuffed out (Acts 1:9). Alone now, hearts pounding—fear and fire wrestling in their ribs—they waited. Like purple herons stretching parched beaks to a rainless sky, poised in Kerala’s shrinking marshes, they ached for the promise: “Stay until you’re clothed with power” (Luke 24:49). Days bled into prayer, huddled in that upper room—dust swirling, oil lamps guttering, voices threading hope through dread (Acts 1:14). Then Pentecost roared in—wind howling like a lion unchained, flames licking their heads, tongues bursting free like rivers unbound (Acts 2:4). Their “little faith” crumbled, but the faith He’d plant—imputed, alive—cracked mountains, leashed darkness, rippled into eternity.

They’d learned their lack—sinking in waves, fretting over crumbs, fleeing the cross—and it hollowed them out for this. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” Jesus had said (Matthew 5:6), and they’d starved, parched for life their hands couldn’t snatch. The Spirit was the monsoon, the “showers of blessing” I’d felt in Ezekiel’s echo (34:26). Peter, once a wave-walker turned wave-sinker, stood and thundered truth, nets hauling thousands. Their deficiency? Drowned. Their helplessness? Fueled. “Precious faith,” he’d call it later (2 Peter 1:1), because it wasn’t theirs to forge—it was grace, crashing in for all (Titus 2:11), turning their ash into flame.

This wasn’t a mend. The Spirit didn’t patch their “little faith”—He torched it, rebuilt it, sent it soaring. They’d waited like purple herons, beaks gaping in the dry, and the rain didn’t drip—it raged.

Grace Over Blame

If Peter’s soggy flop proves anything, it’s this: we’re all sinking sometimes. Ministers, hear me—those pews brim with disciples clutching torn nets, hearts flickering with “little faith.” Don’t club them with it; they’re bruised enough. Jesus didn’t leave Peter thrashing in the waves—He grabbed him, lifted him, sent him to fish souls from the deep. “My grace is sufficient,” He whispers through Paul (2 Corinthians 12:9), and that’s the anthem we need—loud, raw, relentless. Stop cursing the lack; start chanting the gift.

I’ve heard preachers growl, “Where’s your faith?”—fists pounding pulpits, eyes narrowed—like the disciples should’ve muscled it up by Galilee. But they couldn’t, and we can’t. Three bread miracles, crumbs still on their fingers, and they still muttered—degenerate, broken, us. Blame buries; grace builds. “No condemnation in Christ,” Paul shouts (Romans 8:1), and ministers should scream it too. Point them to the Spirit—tell them to stretch their beaks skyward like purple herons, beg for power (Luke 11:13), seize the grace that’s theirs.

The epistles sing it. Paul brags, “By the grace of God I am what I am” (1 Corinthians 15:10), not “Check my strength.” Peter, ex-sinker, pleads, “Grow in grace” (2 Peter 3:18). They knew their lack—that’s why grace hit like a monsoon, fierce and sweet. Ministers, don’t kick the boat-rockers; toss them the rope. Grace isn’t just the fix—it’s the wind, the fire, the soar.

Conclusion: Our Journey Too

So here we are—you and me, teetering on our own waves. Maybe your bread’s gone stale, bills stacking like storm clouds. Maybe the wind’s howling, and your net’s a knot. “O you of little faith,” He says, but lean in—it’s not a gavel. It’s a grip. The disciples sank, muttered, bolted—then stood, preached, conquered, all because the Spirit crashed in. “With God, all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26), and that’s our lifeline too.

I’ve doubted—bank dry, nights long, hope frayed. But this story’s alive: our “little faith” isn’t the grave; it’s the crack where grace floods. The Spirit’s here, not just for them but us—right now, nets trembling. From little faith to precious grace, the journey’s beating—step out, cast wide, feel Him lift you. The monsoon’s breaking. Soar.

The DEEDS John Knew: A Messiah REVEALED in Mercy

Why Jesus Answered with Actions, Not Armies

Opening: The Spark in the Quiet

I was mulling over Matthew 11 in my quiet time when Jesus’ words jumped out: “Go and tell John what you hear and see.” Why those specific deeds—blind seeing, lame walking, dead rising? It got me wondering—what did John already know about the Messiah? The question wouldn’t let go. Here was John the Baptist, the thundering prophet of the wilderness, now caged in Herod’s prison, sending disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one, or should we wait for another?” (Matthew 11:3). Jesus doesn’t reply with a title or a throne. He points to actions—miracles that ripple with meaning. It’s a moment that begs us to dig deeper: what lens shaped John’s hope, and how did Jesus’ deeds both fit and flip it?

John’s Prison and the Messiah He Expected

Picture John: wild hair matted, voice once roaring “Repent!” now hushed by stone walls. He’d baptized Jesus, seen the Spirit descend like a dove, heard God declare, “This is my beloved Son” (Matthew 3:17). That day at the Jordan, John knew—he pointed and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God” (John 1:29). But now, months later, he’s in chains, and Jesus isn’t storming fortresses. John’s own preaching had an edge: “The axe is laid to the root of the trees… His winnowing fork is in his hand” (Matthew 3:10, 12). He’d heralded a Messiah of fire and judgment, a kingdom-shaker. Yet Jesus was out there touching lepers, not toppling tyrants.

Was John doubting? Maybe. Or maybe he just needed clarity. Raised as Zechariah’s son, a priestly heir (Luke 1:5), John was no stranger to the scrolls. He’d quoted Isaiah 40:3—“Prepare the way of the Lord”—to frame his mission. He knew the Prophets’ promises: a shoot from Jesse’s stump (Isaiah 11:1), a preacher of good news to the poor (Isaiah 61:1), a healer of the blind and lame (Isaiah 35:5-6). Zechariah 9:9 even hinted at a humble king—“your king comes to you… riding on a donkey”—a detail easy to miss amid cries for liberation. Under Roman rule, John might’ve blended these with a hope for deliverance. He knew the Messiah’s deeds would signal God’s reign. But which deeds?

Jesus’ Answer: Deeds That Echo Isaiah

Jesus’ reply is no offhand remark. “Go and tell John what you hear and see,” he says, “the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them” (Matthew 11:4-5). These aren’t random—they’re a checklist from Isaiah’s playbook. “The eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then shall the lame man leap like a deer” (Isaiah 35:5-6). “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… to proclaim good news to the poor” (Isaiah 61:1). Jesus isn’t just doing miracles—he’s fulfilling prophecy, step by step.

Why the specificity? Because John knew the script. Jesus’ answer leans into that knowledge: “You’ve read the signs; here they are.” It’s confirmation tailored to a prophet’s lens. But notice what’s missing—no axe, no fire, no Roman ruin. Where John saw a winnowing fork, Jesus offers a healing hand—echoing Zechariah’s lowly king more than a warrior. The Messiah’s deeds signal God’s kingdom, yes, but they prioritize mercy over might, renewal over revolution. “Blessed is the one who is not offended by me,” Jesus adds (Matthew 11:6)—a gentle nudge. Was John tripped up by a Messiah who didn’t match the full picture he’d painted?

The Gap: Judgment Deferred, Compassion Now

That gap—between John’s fiery vision and Jesus’ quiet works—holds the tension. John wasn’t wrong to expect judgment; the Old Testament brims with it (e.g., Malachi 4:1, “the day is coming, burning like an oven”). Isaiah pairs healing with justice (11:4, “he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth”). Jesus would later speak of separating sheep from goats (Matthew 25:31-46). But here, the Messiah unveils phase one: compassion breaking in. The dead rise not to judge but to live. The poor hear hope, not doom.

John’s question isn’t failure—it’s human. Locked in darkness, he needed to reconcile the Messiah he proclaimed with the one he saw. Jesus’ deeds didn’t cancel the script; they reordered it. The prophets fused near and far—restoration now, reckoning later. Isaiah 53 whispers this too: a servant “pierced for our transgressions” (v. 5), bearing grief before bringing glory. Jesus lives that split: the “already” of mercy, the “not yet” of wrath. John’s lens wasn’t blurry; it just hadn’t zoomed out to the cross, where this suffering Messiah would fuse justice and mercy (Psalm 85:10).

The Deeper Truth: A Messiah for the Margins

Step back, and Jesus’ choice of deeds whispers something profound. Blind, lame, lepers, deaf, dead, poor—these aren’t power players. They’re the overlooked, the outcast. Isaiah’s promises weren’t just for kings but for the crushed (61:1, “the brokenhearted”). Jesus doesn’t march on Jerusalem; he kneels in Galilee’s dust—foreshadowing the cross, where he’d be “numbered with the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12). This Messiah redefines “kingdom” not as conquest but as care. John knew the signs, but Jesus shows their soul: God’s reign begins with the least, not the loudest.

That’s where my quiet-time question landed me. If John knew the deeds, why the doubt? Because they didn’t look like triumph—at least, not yet. Jesus answered with actions that fit the ancient promises perfectly—Isaiah’s healings, Zechariah’s humility, the servant’s sacrifice—yet flipped the script on how they’d unfold. The Messiah John heralded was real, just not the shape he’d braced for.

For Us: Seeing the Signs We Didn’t Expect

John’s story mirrors ours. We too carry scripts—about God, life, deliverance. We scan for thrones when he offers touch—ultimately, a cross. I’d expected a Messiah of might too, not one whose proof was a leper’s smile or a pierced side. But that’s the point: the signs we demand aren’t always the ones we get. Jesus didn’t just answer John—he answered me, and maybe you. “Tell what you hear and see,” he says. What do we see? A kingdom sneaking in through mercy, building to a day when the axe falls true. Blessed are we if we’re not offended by it—by a Messiah who rode a donkey, bore our sins, and calls us to the margins still.

‘YE ARE GODS’ (Elohim’s)- Examining the True Intent Behind His Statement”.

“Decoding Jesus’ Words: ‘YE ARE GODS’ (Elohim’s)- Examining the True Intent Behind His Statement”.

Is it Blasphemous to Consider Ourselves as divine beings?”

I’ve observed Christians having trouble answering this question. For so long, we have been debating whether it is blasphemous to think of ourselves as divine beings. Perhaps it’s past time for us to stop putting it off and find a solution. One party claims that it is heretical to even consider that we are “Elohim’s,” (gods) whereas the other believes that we are.

Elohim or ‘Elohiym’ is a plural noun for “gods” or “deities.” In the New testament the word ‘Theos’ has a broad usage. Strong’s Concordance defines it as, “a deity, especially … the supreme Divinity; fig. a magistrate.”

To understand the true meaning of Jesus’ statement, it is important to examine the Bible. Yes, Jesus said to the unregenerate, Ye are from beneath; I am from above: ye are of this world; I am not of this world (John 8:23). But is that how the Spirit of God addresses them that are born of Him? We have the mind of Christ, haven’t we? (1 Corinthians 2:16)

So let’s investigate to discover its genuine meaning.

When studying the Bible, it’s important to remember that the ministry to the Gentile Church began with Cornelius’ household in Acts 10 and that, according to tradition, the first Gentile church was established in Antioch (Acts 11:20–21), where it is stated that the followers of Jesus Christ were first referred to as Christians (Acts 11:26).

In the book of Acts, not only the conversion from Judaism to fully formed Christianity is being described, but also a brief note of the Law’s position. The disciples, like all Jews, celebrated the feast of Pentecost, and even after the Spirit had come to dwell among them, they continued to visit the temple and keep the prayer times. And according to Acts 10, the earliest followers of Jesus thought that in order to be fully eligible for God’s blessings, one had to adhere to Jewish ceremonial traditions.

So, the principles presented in the Scriptures prior to Acts 10 must be understood in the context of the entire narrative. Remember that while Jesus was on the earth, preaching all the parables and whatnot, he even forbade the Apostles from serving the Gentiles – Matthew 10:5,6 – since the law and the prophets were still in effect.

Jesus said, the law and the prophets were until John (Luke 16:16). Even in Acts 19 it was clear that some disciples were unaware of the existence of the Holy Ghost because they were only familiar with the concept of repentance baptism. In Acts 10 we see that God revealing to Peter in a vision that the gospel should be preached to the Gentiles.

Simply put, while the first tabernacle was still intact, the path to the holiest of all places had not yet become clear (Hebrews 9:8). A testament is invalid if the testator is still alive (Hebrews 9:16,17).

In order to avoid confusion, conflict, and chaos, let’s be careful not to choose one verse from the Synoptic Gospels or other parts of the Bible and exploit it or reject it entirely to support our ideology. Study (spoudazo – make effort, give diligence, endeavour, labour) to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needs not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth (2 Timothy 2:15).

When you hear someone quote a passage without comprehending what it really means, don’t lose your calm. You could provide clarification and a correction if you are aware of the term. Why, however, do you believe that you should completely reject it and the idea? It is disheartening to see the “Cessationists,” who contend that the Apostolic age marked the end of spiritual gifts, criticizing those who accept phrases like “ye are gods” without providing a correct context. As long as a passage is in the Bible, it has been inspired by the Holy Spirit – 2 Timothy 3:16, and there should be a deeper meaning behind the words He chose.

The question is: When the word of God describes us as new creatures in Christ, how could we go on distinguishing ourselves as mere men? False humility would portray them as worms and sinners and such, but God says the contrary. Let God be true and EVERY man a liar! Romans 3:4

To emphasize what I am attempting to elaborate on, I would like to incorporate my personal life experience.

Looking back into my life, I just cannot believe how decrepit, depraved, wicked and hopeless I was until God in Christ saved me and planted me in Him. Such a supernatural act of transformation is only possible via the gracious work of God’s word within the human soul.

God in Christ sought me and saved me and made me a NEW creature, transforming me into a new person as the incorruptible word fell into the soil of my heart and revived me – 1Peter 1:23. My former pals were unable to recognize me later. Why? This is how God transformed me–my entire being metamorphosed into a new person. My mentality, my speech, my attitude, my temperament, my behaviour, my attributes, my level of living, and my outlook on life have all changed to a greater extent.

I cannot understand how this transformation in myself has happened, but only God who created me in my mother’s womb could do this kind of recasting. This new species of human would be the result of a “hypostatic union”—a blend of earthly and divine concoction. And when combined with others of the same fold, it becomes a sanctuary for God to dwell in – 1Peter 2:5.

Why did Jesus say, ‘ye are gods’ (‘Elohim’s)? Can the regenerate one’s be assigned to this category or Is it blasphemous to consider ourselves god’s in the light of the Scriptures?

The unregenerate will perish like men (Psalm 82:7/Matthew 8:12) and are referred to as “the natural man” (1 Corinthians 2:14) and “the natural brute creatures” (2 Peter 2:12). But does the Spirit of God speak to those who are His children in that way? Definitely not! The regenerate, they have passed (departed, removed) from death unto life (John 5:24), and having been quickened by His Spirit – Ephesians 2:5 – are seated in heavenly places in Christ as kings and priests unto God the Father – Ephesians 2:6/Revelation 1:6/5:10/1Corinthians 4:8.

In Psalms 82:6, the judges of the Old Testament were referred to be “gods” (Elohim’s). “Gods” were used to refer to magistrates, judges, princes, mighty, and other figures of authority. The word Elohim, which is Hebrew, is translated as “judges” in Exodus 21:6 and 22:8, 9, and 28.

When a human magistrate is referred to as “god,” it implies that they hold authority over others, their civil power is to be feared, and that they derive their power and authority from God, as depicted in verse 8 of Psalms 82, who is considered the ultimate judge of the entire earth. Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers (delegated authority). For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever therefore resists the power, resists the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation (Romans 13:1-4).

Can a born-again Christian be said to have greater authority and power than the Old Testament saints? The word of God says, as many as received him, to them gave He power (exousia – magistrate, superhuman, potentate, delegated influence: — authority, jurisdiction, liberty, power, right, strength) to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name (John 1:12).

They were God’s servants, but we are God’s children/sons of God – Galatians 4:7/1 John 3:2. But the children of God are counted among the Elohim’s and Jesus was only reiterating the Old Testament Scripture in John 10:34. I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High (Psalm 82:6). Jesus’ accusers in the Jewish community sought to stone him because they said, “You, being a man, make Yourself out to be god (“Theos,” John 10:33). The verse “you are gods” from Psalm 82:6 is used by Jesus to justify himself. If Jesus had known that it was a reference to false gods, he would not have done so. But he quoted from the prophets to uphold what he was saying.

By the same token, Jesus gave us power (delegated authority) to become sons of God. As he is, so are we in this world (1 John 4:17). Who do you believe to have more authority and power? The church of Jesus Christ or the earthly monarchs?

God hath put all things under Jesus’ feet and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him that fills all in all – Ephesians 1:22,23. Do ye not know that the saints shall judge the world and the angels? (1 Corinthians 6:2,3) The saints of the most High shall take the kingdom, and possess the kingdom for ever, even for ever and ever – Daniel 7:18 – And the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the most High (Daniel 7:27).

This verse truly has prophetic implications for the Bride of Christ and the planet’s future judges, priests, and kings (Rev 1:6/20:6/1 Cor 6:2).

The church (the body of Christ) wields tremendous power not only to rule and reign as kings but also to judge the world and the angels – 2 Timothy 2:12/1 Corinthians 6:2,3. The gates of hell shall not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18) – For, the weapons of her warfare are mighty – 2 Corinthians 10:4. The eyes of your understanding being enlightened; that ye may know what the hope of his calling is, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints and what is the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe (Ephesians 1:18,19).

By the revealing of the sons of God in their glorified bodies, the creation itself shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption – Romans 8:18-23. Our spirit/the inner man is created after God in righteousness and true holiness – Ephesians 4:24 – and we who behold the glory of the Lord are changed into the same image (likeness, resemblance, representation) from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Corinthians 3:18). Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he (Jesus Christ) shall appear, he not only shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body (Philippians 3:21) but also shall become like him (1 John 3:2) – a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ (Ephesians 4:13).

If so, how could we continue to adjudge ourselves as mere men when the Bible declares us to be “new creatures” in Christ – 2 Corinthians 5:17? Should we see us in the light of the Bible or man-made ideology? When God says the opposite, them who practice ‘false humility’ would like to think of themselves as worms, sinners, and such similar things. Which, considering these principles, is defiance.

The redeeming work of God on the cross of Calvary took care of everything that prevented us from being profitable or fruitful. Nevertheless, we are responsible to shrug off or discard that which God hath severed or uprooted. Didn’t Christ disarm the enemy of our souls? Didn’t God in Christ condemn sin in the flesh of His only begotten Son? He did spoil principalities and powers, he made a shew of them openly, and triumphed over them in it (Colossians 2:15) – He did condemn sin – Romans 8:3.

God made Jesus Christ, who knew no sin, to be sin for us. But why? so that in him, we may become God’s righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21).

See how crucial the renewal of our mind is! The Israelites were still held hostage in their minds even after being freed from Pharaoh’s servitude. They believed themselves to be “half-Egyptian,” so to speak. They retreated once more into Egypt in their hearts – Acts 7:39. I wonder if Christians today are behaving in the same way—thus neglecting so great salvation God in Christ hath wrought (Hebrews 2:3).

According to the Scriptures, all of these things happened unto them (Israel) for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come (1 Corinthians 10:11).

Likewise, we must reckon ourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 6:11). Even when we were dead in sins, God hath quickened us together with Christ (Ephesians 2:5). We are more than conquerors, aren’t we? (Romans 8:37) Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifies (Romans 8:33).

I have learned a great deal as I moved closer to spiritual maturity. When I said, ‘Maturity’ it is a state of coming of full age in the spirit to recognize both good and evil, i.e., I am no more a babe in Christ, being tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine– Hebrews 5:13, 14/1Peter 2:2/1 Corinthians 3:1-3/Ephesians 4:14. The level of exhilaration you experience in the “Academy of the Spirit” cannot be matched by any other adventure in the world.

One of the pinnacles of my spiritual growth was the day the spirit of the WORLD truly left me.

During this stage, you will feel numb toward sin, both its weight and its once-easily-besotted nature that used to captivate us so easily – Hebrews 12:1/1Peter 4:1/2Corinthians 7:1/Romans 7:23; not to mention, the lustre of the world and its allurements too will vanish.

Even though the procedure was occasionally agonizing – Hebrews 12:5-11/1Peter 4:1,12,13, it was immensely satisfying and worth the effort. I can see that, in a sense, I have become incompetent according to the flesh, but my spirit has become alive and well. Therefore, even with the inherent sinful nature, I just cannot consider myself as a ‘mere man’ anymore, but a spiritual person who now possess a holy spirit, which after God is created in His own likeness, in righteousness and true holiness (Ephesians 4:24/Colossians 3:10).

Because of this and in light of what the Bible says, I would venture to consider myself to be a righteous man despite the inherent carnal nature that the fall has ensconced in all of us. For, if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us (1 John 1:8). For a just man falls seven times and rises up again (Proverbs 24:16).

Similar to how a child must experience multiple falls before learning to walk, we all have a tendency to stumble and go astray throughout our spiritual infancy. I must confess that during those formative years, I made some major mistakes. I loved the world and everything in it, but I was also prideful, haughty, harboured unchaste desires and such.

When I was a child (nepios – an immature Christian, a babe in Christ – yet carnal – 1 Corinthians 3:1-3/1 Peter 2:2), I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man (spiritual maturity), I PUT AWAY childish things (1 Corinthians 13:11). According to Romans 8:13 and Ephesians 3:16, when you grow in the spirit, you develop/attain inner strength (dunamis), which enables you to subdue or mortify the actions of the flesh. Some people think that once you have access to divine power, you will perform feats of strength and marvels. That may be the case, but the main goal of this power bestowment is to conform you to the image of Jesus Christ.

Even though I battled a lot of sin during my developing stage, it did not restore my pre-sanctified status, since I had already been made holy in Christ. I’m not endorsing sin in any way, but what I’m trying to say is that if we are sincere in our hearts and have a great desire to live righteously but are unable to, God will never leave us, no matter what condition we are in.

The wonder of it is that Jesus Christ lives in every true believer, and it is God that works in us both to will and to do according to His good pleasure – Philippians 2:13. Hence, Christ’s abiding presence in me, through His eternal Spirit makes me a holy Temple – Galatians 2:20/Colossians 1:27/1 Corinthians 3:16/6:19. I am crucified with Christ (I am dead with Christ – Romans 6:4,8/ Ephesians 2:5/Colossians 2:20/3:3), nevertheless I live, YET NOT I, but Christ living in every true believer. Christ living in me, is the hope of glory, Galatians 2:20/Colossians 1:27.

I assume I said “believer” in error. The Holy Spirit corrects me: the benchmark for a true believer is someone who was born of God – John 3:7. The Father God will pursue us with love, and He deals with us as Sons if we will but endure His chastening (Hebrews 12:5–11/Proverbs 3:11/Job 5:17/Deuteronomy 8:5/Isaiah 64:8). The Lord has compassion on those who fear him, just as a father has compassion on his children – Psalms 103:13/Deuteronomy 1:31/Jeremiah 3:4,19/ 31:20/Isaiah 63:16/Hosea 11:1/Malachi 3:17. The Scriptures also describe how the Lord would compassionately care for those under his care, just as a mother would – Isaiah 49:15, 66:13, and Psalms 27:10.

You do well if you believe there is only one God; the devils also believe and quake. Ergo, just believing in God does not count for sonship (James 2:19). And the Spirit will bear witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God (Romans 8:16).

When I was a babe in Christ, I considered myself a believer and a servant of God (my understanding of God was deficient); but as I grew in spirit, I came to realize my inheritance in Christ. BECAUSE ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father (Galatians 4:6). Thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ (Galatians 4:7).

I struggled for a long time with the thought that God had just adopted me and that I am a second-class citizen, but it wasn’t until God illuminated my understanding and pressed His truths into my being that I realized I was truly a child of God—born from above.

Paul addresses Onesimus, whom he begets during his time in prison as “which in time past unprofitable” but not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved (Philemon 1:10-16).

Since the presence of sin in us makes us inclined to stray from God, according to Romans 7:17, The Spirit of the Lord will raise a standard against the adversary when he enters like a flood (Isaiah 59:19).

Without the Holy Spirit, we will undoubtedly experience stunted growth and even potentially stop God’s work within us through our disobedience. The outcome depends on whom we yield ourselves to obey – Romans 6:16. The bottom line is that, if we live after the flesh, we shall die but if we through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, we shall live (Romans 8:13).

Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? (Romans 8:33) – And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous (1 John 2:1). Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need (Hebrews 4:16).

This indemnity in Christ doesn’t give us the privilege to be slack in our spiritual life. Just because Christ hath set us free doesn’t make us immune to sin, the devil, and the world. We must be on our guard always, lest we be beguiled, and our minds be corrupted by the serpent (2 Corinthians 11:3).

If we ignore our spiritual position in Christ and allow the false humility that has its carnal origins, that will only make us self-conceited who are rejoicing in pride.

In Christ, who do we become? Joint heirs with Christ and heirs of God (Romans 8:17).

Whom would you trust? The Bible or traditions/man-made doctrines?

The word of God enjoins us to reckon that we are dead with Christ – Romans 6:4,8/Colossians 2:12 – and God hath raised us up together with Christ and made us SIT together in heavenly places in Christ – Ephesians 2:6. Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh (2 Corinthians 5:16).

You can see how different we are from the rest of the world in this way! In order to save us from this present evil world, Jesus sacrificed himself in exchange for our sins (Galatians 1:4). By believing in him, God hath separated us from the world, sin, and the devil. As we live according to the Spirit—death, and sin, which once held sway, will lose its hold. You will be free from the power of sin as you acknowledge this truth (Romans 6:14).

Where are we seated right now? We have come to Mount Zion, and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable multitudes of angels to the general assembly and assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, to God the Judge of all, to the spirits of just men made perfect, to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks better than that of Abel (Hebrews 12:22-24).

Therefore, don’t be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind (supplant your assumptions with the law of the Spirit of life – Romans 8:2/Colossians 3:16), so that you may prove what is the good, well-pleasing, and perfect will of God (Romans 12:2). Do not love the world or the things that are found in it. We may use this world – Colossians 2:20-23 – but not to misuse it – 1 Corinthians 7:31.

According to 1 John 2:15, a man or woman who loves this world will not possess the love of God the Father. His love will not be in them, period. According to James 4:4, God adjudge people who make friends with this world as His enemies and categorizes them as adulterers (spiritual fornication/infidelity – by coalescing with the spirit of the world – Ephesians 2:2).

Know that it is a solid sign that either you are not living according to the Spirit or that you are still a babe in Christ who needs to mature according to the spirit if you are still struggling to overcome the burden and with the sin, which easily entangles you – Hebrews 12:1/Romans 7:23.

They that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts (Galatians 5:24).

The law of sin and death must be replaced with the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus, which entails being renewed in the spirit of our minds, according to Ephesians 4:23/Romans 8:2. Even though we perceive that we are still in this earthly body, we must consider that in the spirit we are seated above the earthly realm. If we disregard or are slothful or are unwilling to work out our own salvation – Philippians 2:12/Proverbs 18:9/24:30,31 – in PUTTING OFF the old man (depravity – filthiness of the flesh and spirit), which is corrupt, and PUT ON the new man, which after God is created, as stated in Ephesians 4:22/Colossians 3:8/2 Corinthians 7:1, and PUT ON the Lord Jesus Christ – Romans 13:14, we would not only fail to see ourselves in the light of the Scriptures but also constantly be aware of our fallen selves and our miserable, sad lives.

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom” (Colossians 3:16). It requires a lot of work for the message of Christ to fully abide in us – John 6:27/Proverbs 19:15/24:30. But, if we are preoccupied with how to build/establish our lives in accordance with this world, how can we be able to maintain it for eternal life? After all, John 12:25 states that anybody who loves his life in this world will lose it. Therefore, be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves (James 1:22). Let the word of God become our first love.

We can see that the Bible features two Adams.

Is there a distinctness in both Adams? In every respect, there is. What makes them dissimilar? The first man Adam, (is of the earth); he was made a LIVING SOUL; the last Adam was made a QUICKENING SPIRIT; and he is the Lord from heaven (1 Corinthians 15:45,47). And as is the earthy (the first Adam), such are they also that are earthy: and as is the heavenly (the last Adam), such are they also that are heavenly (1 Corinthians 15:48) – that which is born of the Spirit is spirit (John 3:6)

That being so, what do we learn from this? As is the heavenly (the last Adam), such are they also that are heavenly. According to Timothy–the church of the living God being the pillar and ground of the truth (1 Timothy 3:15) – the only entity which came to possession of the extreme great power of God (Ephesians 1:17-23/2Corinthinans 10:4) – how could we belittle and count ourselves but dung. We are nothing more than a bunch of clowns if we don’t learn who we are and whose we are.

The Spirit of God instructs us to examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith (Pistis – persuaded, assurance); prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates? (2 Corinthians 13:5)

Why did Jesus furnish the Church, His body with the necessary offices? One purpose is to perfect the saints of God, right? Ephesians 4:11-13

We know that whosoever is born of God sins not – 1 John 5:18 – And he that is spiritual judges all things, yet he himself is judged of no man (1 Corinthians 2:15)

We’re all royalty now, aren’t we? 1Pet 2:9/1 Corinthians 4:8/Revelation 1:6/5:10. Were His holiness and divine nature not ours to possess? 2 Peter 1:4/Hebrews 12:10 That is why Jesus Christ is said to as “the King of kings and Lord of lords.”1 Timothy 6:15/Revelation 17:14/19:16 – For the Lord your God (Elohiym) is God of gods (Elohiym), and Lord of lords – Deuteronomy 10:17. It couldn’t possibly imply that Yahweh (Jehovah) is the God of false gods, can it? Now therefore ye are no more strangers (xenos – a guest) and foreigners (paroikos – a by-dweller), but fellow citizens (sumpolites – a native) with the saints, and of the household of God (Ephesians 2:19).

You can see that the Hebrew word “Elohim” or “Elohiym,” when employed in the Bible, does not refer to a false god but rather to judges, mighty, princes, angels, God, etc. We see the Psalmist intones in Psalms 138:1, “before the gods (elohim’s) will I sing praise unto thee”.

When the book of Exodus 21:6/22:8,9 and 1 Samuel 2:25 render ‘elohim’ as “judges”—Psalms 8:5 (Strong’s number H430) translates ‘elohim’ as angles – KJV – inevitably ‘elohim’ can mean someone in authority, an angel or a child of God. God stands in the congregation of the mighty; he judges among the gods. I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High (Psalm 82:1,6).

Let’s recapitulate some of the main points:

Every time you see ‘Elohim’ being appended to humans it signifies a position of honour and authority. The glory of his inheritance in the saints, and the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe – Ephesians 1:18-19. Behold, I give unto you power (exousia – mastery (concretely, magistrate, superhuman, potentate, token of control), delegated influence, authority) to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you (Luke 10:19). But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: (John 1:12)

‘El, with its derived words ‘Elim, ‘Elohim, and ‘Eloah, is one of the most traditional and extensively used terms for Deity known to the human race. It is a collective phrase that refers to all deities as a whole. Even among men, it may signify a position of honour and authority.

The King James Version translates variously: judges, vast, mighty, God, gods, and angels.

Its New Testament counterpart is ‘Theos’.

In Acts 12:22 (ASV), the Jews referred to Herod as “Theos” because they were yelling, “The voice of a god (“Theos”) and not of a man!”

He called them gods, unto whom the word of God came – John 10:35 – At one point, Satan is even mentioned – 2 Corinthians 4:4.

Simply put, the Bible uses the Greek word for “god,” Strong’s 2316 “Theos,” to refer to more than just Jehovah.

For instance: According to the ancient Testament The Hebrew word “Elohim” (god) can refer to any important person (e.g. Abraham, Genesis 23:6). Aaron and Pharaoh both referred to Moses as “Elohim” (Exodus 7:1). (Exodus 4:16; compare Judges 5:8; 1 Samuel 2:25; Psalms 82:1) – to describe individuals who represent God or who are in His presence (1 Samuel 28:13). Elohim’s are the name given to angels (Psalms 8:5). So were judges referred to in Exodus 21:6. It is, therefore, a general term denoting majesty and authority, and it only started being employed as a proper name for the God of Israel in the later stages when the previous proper name Yahweh was deemed to be too sacred to be spoken.

Now the issue is at hand. Do we serve as God’s representatives here on earth? 2 Corinthians 5:20 Is He with us right now? Are we in His presence? The correct response is that we serve as both God’s ambassadors and His abode/spiritual house – 1 Peter 2:5/Ephesians 2:22/1 Corinthians 3:16/6:19. What does that make us then? Elohim’s, yes?

Jesus is not claiming that humans are divine or on par with God; rather, he is stating that they can be referred to as “gods” in a restricted sense since they serve as God’s emissaries on earth.

When the people of Lystra would have worshipped Paul and Barnabas as heathen gods, the apostle protests that God is not like men, and bases His majesty upon His creatorship of all things – Acts 14:15. God alone is to be worshipped. “God (Elohim) stands in the divine assembly (‘ăḏaṯ-‘êl); He judges among the gods (Elohim’s)” Psalms 82

Every time ‘Elohim’ is alluded to God it denotes one thing—that the God of Israel is the highest, the most exalted, among the ‘Elohim’s’. I am the Lord (Yhovah), and there is none else, there is no God (‘Elohim) beside me (Isaiah 45:5).

The term “gods” is used to describe the spiritual potential of a regenerate Christian; in other words, born again Christians have the potential to reflect the character and nature of God in their lives. This potential is realized through a process of spiritual growth and transformation, which involves developing a deeper understanding of God’s nature and character and aligning one’s own life with these values. This interpretation is supported by Jesus’ own words in John 10:34-36, where he quotes Psalm 82:6 and suggests that all human beings have the potential to be “sons of God.”

The verse also implies that unlike other creatures, human beings have a special relationship with God. As Jesus said, “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30). This statement suggests that Jesus had a unique relationship with God, which was based on his divine nature. However, Jesus also said that his followers could have a similar relationship with God. He prayed, “I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me” (John 17:22-23).

Jesus answered them, is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are gods (Theos)? (John 10:34,35)
He called them gods, unto whom the word of God came (John 10:35)
The disciple is not above his master: but every one that is perfect shall be as his master (Luke 6:40) – we speak wisdom among them that are perfect (that are made whole, mature in spirit) (1 Corinthians 2:6/3:1-3/1Peter 2:2/Hebrews 5:13,14)
And the Lord said unto Moses, See, I have made thee a god (‘Elohim) to Pharaoh: and Aaron thy brother shall be thy prophet (Exodus 7:1).
I have said, Ye are gods (‘Elohim); and all of you are children of the most High (Psalm 82:6)
God stands in the congregation of the mighty; he judges among the gods (Psalm 82:1)
Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people (1 Peter 2:9)
Know ye not that we shall judge the world and the angels? (1 Corinthians 6:2,3)