JUNE 28, 2024

   “Lack of confidence, sometimes alternating with unrealistic dreams of heroic success, often leads to procrastination, and many studies suggest that procrastinators are self-handicappers: rather than risk failure, they prefer to create conditions that make success impossible, a reflex that of course creates a vicious cycle.” 

― James Surowiecki

JOB 13-15

1“Mortals, born of woman,

are of few days and full of trouble.

2They spring up like flowers and wither away;

like fleeting shadows, they do not endure.(14:1-2)

ACTS 8:26-40

26Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Go south to the road—the desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” 27So he started out, and on his way he met an Ethiopian^a eunuch, an important official in charge of all the treasury of the Kandake (which means “queen of the Ethiopians”). This man had gone to Jerusalem to worship, 28and on his way home was sitting in his chariot reading the Book of Isaiah the prophet. 29The Spirit told Philip, “Go to that chariot and stay near it.”

30Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asked.

31“How can I,” he said, “unless someone explains it to me?” So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.

JOURNAL 

In Job 14:1–2, we hear the aching honesty of a man crushed by life: “Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble. They spring up like flowers and wither away; like fleeting shadows, they do not endure.” Job isn’t being dramatic, he’s being real. Life is short. Life is hard. And sometimes, as Job experiences, even the righteous are brought low.

What makes his pain sharper is the misunderstanding of his friends. They’ve reduced God to a vending machine: sin equals suffering, righteousness equals reward. But Job’s story dismantles that formula. He’s not suffering because he did something wrong, he’s suffering precisely because he is living rightly. And that confuses the religious mind that always demands visible reward for invisible faith.

It’s easy, then, to fall into despair or, perhaps even more commonly—procrastination. Not just putting off tasks, but putting off purpose. As James Surowiecki notes, procrastinators often suffer from a mix of low confidence and unrealistically heroic fantasies. That’s me sometimes. I wait. I hesitate. I want the big, bold, cinematic moment of calling without the risk of actually stepping onto the battlefield. I fear failing, so I stall. And in that stall, purpose fades.

But contrast that with Philip in Acts 8:26–40. There’s no clarity, no map, no guarantee, just a simple command: “Go south to the road...the desert road.” And Philip goes. No hesitation. No excuse. Because obedience isn’t about certainty, it’s about trust.

And in that act of faithful obedience, Philip is led to one man, the Ethiopian eunuch, whose heart is ready. One quiet moment of obedience becomes a world-changing encounter. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asks. “How can I,” the eunuch replies, “unless someone explains it to me?” What if Philip had procrastinated? What if he waited until conditions were perfect?

Obedience rarely feels heroic in the moment. It often feels like desert roads, interruptions, and awkward conversations. But it is there, right there, that God moves.

So what is my path forward? Not one paved by formulas or outcomes. Not one dictated by success or suffering. My calling is clear: to live in daily obedience to the Spirit of God, just as Jesus teaches in Matthew 6:9–13. “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Not my comfort. Not my timeline. His will. His kingdom. His name hallowed through my simple, faithful, daily yes.

There will be days where I feel like Job, confused, discouraged, watching life wither like a flower. But there are also days where I can choose the way of Philip, quietly stepping onto a desert road, trusting that God will meet me there. I don’t have to be heroic, I just have to be obedient. And in that obedience, joy will find me. Not because the journey is easy, but because God is in it.

9“This, then, is how you should pray:

“ ‘Our Father in heaven,

hallowed be your name,

10your kingdom come,

your will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

11Give us today our daily bread.

12And forgive us our debts,

as we also have forgiven our debtors.

13And lead us not into temptation,^a

but deliver us from the evil one.^b ’

MATTHEW 6:9-13

JUNE 27, 2025

 “Failure should be our teacher, not our undertaker. Failure is delay, not defeat. It is a temporary detour, not a dead end. Failure is something we can avoid only by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.” 

― Denis Waitley

JOB 10-12

13“To God belong wisdom and power;

counsel and understanding are his.

14What he tears down cannot be rebuilt;

those he imprisons cannot be released.

15If he holds back the waters, there is drought;

if he lets them loose, they devastate the land.

16To him belong strength and insight;

both deceived and deceiver are his.

17He leads rulers away stripped

and makes fools of judges.

18He takes off the shackles put on by kings

and ties a loincloth^b around their waist.

19He leads priests away stripped

and overthrows officials long established.

20He silences the lips of trusted advisers

and takes away the discernment of elders.

21He pours contempt on nobles

and disarms the mighty.

22He reveals the deep things of darkness

and brings utter darkness into the light.

23He makes nations great, and destroys them;

he enlarges nations, and disperses them.

24He deprives the leaders of the earth of their reason;

he makes them wander in a trackless waste.

25They grope in darkness with no light;

he makes them stagger like drunkards.(12:13-25)

ACTS 8:1-25

On that day a great persecution broke out against the church in Jerusalem, and all except the apostles were scattered throughout Judea and Samaria. 2Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him. 3But Saul began to destroy the church. Going from house to house, he dragged off both men and women and put them in prison.

JOURNAL 

How does Saul become Paul? How does a man breathing murderous threats against the church (Acts 8:3) become the greatest missionary and author of much of the New Testament? It defies logic. It doesn’t follow a clean arc of redemption. But that’s the point, God does not work by our formulas.

As Job declares in Job 12:13–25, “To God belong wisdom and power; counsel and understanding are his.” He tears down what no man can rebuild. He binds and releases. He elevates nations and disperses them. He exposes darkness and brings it into light. Job understood what we so often forget: God alone authors both the rise and the fall. And within that, He is still good.

The persecution in Acts 8 seems like a moment of defeat. Stephen is buried. Saul is dragging believers into prison. But look closer: it is through this persecution that the church is scattered, and the gospel begins to move outward. What looked like loss was actually divine multiplication. Failure is not the end, it is often the beginning.

God does not avoid the mess. He enters it. And He allows us to walk through it—not around it. The only way through is through.

There’s a temptation in me and in all of us, to avoid the hard parts of life, the confusing chapters of Scripture, the painful trials of the present moment. But as Job models, and as Isaiah affirms, these very hardships are where God reveals His strength. “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak” (Isaiah 40:29). Not by removing the hardship, but by renewing the heart within it.

Sometimes I want a life that’s simple, predictable, fair. But what God offers me is far greater: a life that is purposeful, sanctifying, and eternally significant. He doesn't promise that I won't grow tired or fall—He promises to lift me when I do.

And so I return to Denis Waitley’s wisdom: “Failure is delay, not defeat.” Yes, the path is often detoured. Yes, the story includes pain. But every setback is an invitation, to deeper trust, to greater intimacy with God, to a more resilient and refined self.

So today, I receive this life as a gift. It will hold conflict. It will test me. But it will also shape me into who I was meant to become.  For it is there, when I am at my weakest, that He makes me soar.

The Lord is the everlasting God,

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

and his understanding no one can fathom.

29He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak.

30Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall;

31but those who hope in the Lord

will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.

ISAIAH 40:28-31

JUNE 26, 2024

   ...This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
~ Shakespeare, Henry V

JOB 7-9

32“He is not a mere mortal like me that I might answer him,

that we might confront each other in court.

33If only there were someone to mediate between us,

someone to bring us together,

34someone to remove God’s rod from me,

so that his terror would frighten me no more.

35Then I would speak up without fear of him,

but as it now stands with me, I cannot.(9:32-35)

ACTS 7:44-60

54When the members of the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. 55But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56“Look,” he said, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

57At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, 58dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.

59While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep.

JOURNAL 

"This story shall the good man teach his son..." Shakespeare’s words echo not just as poetry but as a rally cry for those of us called into struggle. Not senseless suffering, but sacred battle—waged not only on battlefields, but in hearts, homes, classrooms, and quiet moments of despair.

In Job 9:32-35, we find a man stripped of everything yet still grasping for a mediator—someone who could reach between heaven and earth and make sense of his agony. “If only there were someone to mediate between us,” Job cries. In Job’s words, I see the mirror of all humanity crying out for someone who understands both divinity and dust.

Centuries later, in Acts 7:54-60, that Mediator stands—literally. Stephen, filled with the Spirit, looks up and sees Jesus standing at the right hand of God. Not sitting. Standing. As if to receive his brother. As if to honor his courage. As if to say, You are not alone. You didn’t flinch. You spoke the truth. And I see you.

Stephen's death wasn't a tragedy—it was a catalyst. A seed planted. And Saul, standing there holding coats, would one day become Paul—an apostle of unstoppable grace. Sometimes the greatest victory is hidden inside the bloodiest moment. Conflict, it seems, is the crucible of transformation.

But somewhere along the way—especially in the last hundred years—we've begun to believe the lie that happiness is our birthright, that ease is the goal, that life is supposed to be smooth, curated, and soft. We've traded the battlefield for the marketplace. The soul for the illusion of control. And like me, so many have fallen into the subtle trap: If I’m not happy, something must be wrong.

Well—something is wrong. Eden was lost. And we’ve been aching ever since. But the ache is not pointless. It’s the echo of paradise. And in the ache, God implanted purpose. Not to escape conflict, but to redeem it. Not to fear the fire, but to be forged in it.

Sports teach us this. Brotherhood is formed through pain. Meaning is discovered in shared adversity. You don’t bond with teammates over sunshine and smoothies—you bond in the trenches, on fourth and long, when you’re sore and tired and still choose to show up. Even the one who wins the championship knows heartbreak—he knows the journey, the price, the scars.

So why are we surprised by suffering? Why am I still so shocked when peace doesn’t come wrapped in comfort?

Maybe it’s because I still forget the truth: that conflict is not the enemy. It’s the path. It’s the battlefield that forges sons and daughters of the King. It’s the moment that offers us the chance to be shaped into who we were always meant to be. It’s the platform upon which grace becomes visible.

In my life, I’ve often avoided conflict—not because I’m weak, but because I misunderstood it. I thought peace meant the absence of pain. But real peace, God’s peace, is forged in the fire—not in its absence.

Just as Stephen’s final breath sparked the transformation of Saul, just as Job’s plea for a mediator found its answer centuries later in Christ, we too are called into the arena—not to escape it. Not to make comfort the goal. But to find joy in obedience, in brotherhood, and in the good work we were created to do.

"For God is able to bless you abundantly," Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 9:8, "so that in all things, at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." Not comfortable work. Good work. Eternal work. And oftentimes, difficult work.

This is where joy is found—not outside the battle, but within it.

So, Lord, teach me to see conflict not as a curse but as the canvas on which Your glory is painted. Make me brave like Stephen, honest like Job, and resolute like the soldiers of Saint Crispin’s day. Give me a heart that longs not for safety, but for truth—and a soul that rejoices not in comfort, but in calling.

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers.

 8And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.

2 CORINTHIANS 9:8

JUNE 25, 2025

  “The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That's real glory. That's the essence of it.” 

― Vince Lombardi Jr.

JOB 4-6

1Then Job replied:

2“If only my grief could be weighed

and placed with my calamity on the scales.

3For then it would outweigh the sand of the seas—

no wonder my words have been rash.

4For the arrows of the Almighty have pierced me;

my spirit drinks in their poison;

the terrors of God are arrayed against me.(6:1-4)

ACTS 7:20-43

20At that time Moses was born, and he was beautiful in the sight of God.e For three months he was nurtured in his father’s house. 21When he was set outside, Pharaoh’s daughter took him and brought him up as her own son. 22So Moses was educated in all the wisdom of the Egyptians and was powerful in speech and action.

JOURNAL 

In Job 6:1–4, Job’s anguish is almost too much to bear. He cries out, “If only my grief could be weighed... it would outweigh the sand of the seas... the arrows of the Almighty have pierced me.” These are the words of a man crushed not by his failures, but by his faithfulness in the face of relentless trial. Job hasn’t sinned, and yet he suffers deeply—proof that righteousness does not insulate us from pain.

Similarly, in Acts 7:20–43, we see Moses, “beautiful in the sight of God,” raised with privilege and education, and yet misunderstood and rejected by his own people. He is prepared by God for a mission that will lead him through rejection, wilderness, and hardship before deliverance is ever seen.

Both men, like Stephen later in this chapter, show that doing what is right in God’s eyes often leads directly into adversity. Stephen, full of wisdom and the Spirit, will be stoned. Job will be stripped of everything. Moses will flee into exile. None of them are in trouble because they disobeyed. Rather, their suffering is the soil from which their testimony grows.

What does this say to me?

It reminds me that trusting and obeying God isn’t a strategy for ease or applause. It’s a path marked by surrender, mystery, and sometimes pain. True success, then, cannot be measured by comfort or status. It is not defined by outcomes, but by obedience. I am called to be an Outpost of the Kingdom - a living, breathing representative of heaven in this broken world.

As Romans 12:1–2 urges, I am to offer my body “as a living sacrifice... holy and pleasing to God,” refusing to conform to the world’s measurements of worth and instead being “transformed by the renewing of my mind.” My worship is not only what I sing but how I live - with courage, with persistence, with purpose.

That means I must let go of the craving for human validation. I must release the need to control outcomes. Glory isn’t found in accolades. It’s found in getting back up when the weight of life has driven me to my knees - still trusting, still loving, still moving forward.

This kind of life, rooted in identity rather than insecurity, is one of joyful action. It stretches me, demands something deeper. It calls forth my gifts and demands my discipline. It’s not passive or self-protective. It’s sacrificial, intentional, and alive.

Even in moments of disappointment, when applause is absent and progress feels hidden, I must remember: I might be exactly where God wants me. My identity is never determined by my circumstances. Instead, my circumstances become the canvas upon which God paints the expression of who I truly am.

So today, I choose again to live as an outpost. To live from my identity, not for it. To honor God not with results, but with surrender. That is where real glory is found.

1Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

ROMANS 12:1-2

JUNE 24, 2025

 " There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."            -Albert Einstein

JOB 1-3

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

and naked I will depart.^c

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;

may the name of the Lord be praised.”

22In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.

ACTS 7:1-19

1Then the high priest asked Stephen, “Are these charges true?”

2To this he replied: “Brothers and fathers, listen to me! The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham while he was still in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Harran. 3‘Leave your country and your people,’ God said, ‘and go to the land I will show you.’^a

JOURNAL 

Job, having just lost nearly everything, responds not with blame, but with reverence. And then in Acts 7, we find Stephen—bold, unwavering, preaching a breathtaking summary of redemptive history just before his martyrdom. He ends his life not with panic or bitterness, but with grace and vision, echoing Christ himself.

These two moments confront a modern, diluted theology that suggests God is only with us when life is easy and successful. In truth, their stories proclaim something deeper: that the presence of God is not proven by comfort but by conviction. And that miracles are not limited to healing or provision, but often show themselves in endurance, clarity, and peace in the face of suffering.

Einstein’s quote rings especially true in this light. To live as though everything is a miracle is not about wishful thinking or spiritualizing every inconvenience—it’s about choosing awareness. It’s about deciding, each day, to recognize that something sacred is unfolding even in the mundane. The laundry, the silence, the interruptions—all of it contains the fingerprints of a God who is always at work.

And yet, why do so many moments feel insignificant? Why do we drift through days without wonder? I think it’s because significance isn’t loud. We’ve trained our eyes to look for grandeur instead of grace. We’re drawn to crisis because it makes us feel like something matters. But the kingdom of God, as Jesus says in Luke 17:20-21, “will not come with observable signs… for the kingdom of God is in your midst.”

It’s here. Right now. In this moment. Not waiting on the next big thing. The challenge isn’t to find where God is moving—but to open my eyes to the fact that He already is.

If I want to be faithful in the moments that demand great courage, I must first learn to be faithful in the ones that don’t. That is the training ground. That is the invitation. Like Stephen, who was ready for his final sermon because he had lived a life rooted in Scripture, in obedience, in attention to the Spirit. And like Job, who could worship not because he understood—but because he trusted.

Today, I want to live with that same awareness. I want to recognize that I stand in the middle of miracles, whether I feel it or not. I want my eyes to be opened to the wonder of now. Because if I believe that God is writing an epic story, then I also believe that no scene is filler—every page, every line, every breath matters.

So let me live today as though everything is a miracle. Because in God’s presence, it is.

20When asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, “The kingdom of God will not come with observable signs. 21Nor will people say, ‘Look, here it is,’ or ‘There it is.’ For you see, the kingdom of God is in your midst.” 

LUKE 17:20-21