Wednesday, May 21, 2025

MAY 21, 2025

  “The only cure for suffering is to face it head on, grasp it round the neck and use it.” 

― Brennan Manning

1 CHRONICLES 3-5

1 Chronicles 5:23–26 tells the sobering story of the half-tribe of Manasseh—brave warriors, renowned men, and respected leaders—who, despite all their earthly strength and standing, fell. They weren’t defeated by a stronger enemy, but by their own unfaithfulness. They prostituted themselves to the gods of the surrounding nations, and in doing so, they lost everything. Their exile wasn’t random—it was the natural consequence of spiritual neglect. God stirred up the spirit of a foreign king to carry them away, and they were scattered to places far from the land of promise. Their downfall came not from a lack of power but from a lack of loyalty.

JOHN 8:1-20

John 8:1–11, on the other hand, offers a sharp and beautiful contrast. A woman, caught in adultery—broken, vulnerable, dragged into public shame—finds herself face to face not with exile, but with mercy. The teachers of the law came seeking judgment. They came wielding the Law, ready to condemn. But Jesus did something unexpected. He did not deny the sin, but He exposed the greater truth: no one standing there was without fault. And rather than wielding power to crush, He used power to restore. He gave her freedom, not just from her accusers, but from the cycle of sin itself. “Then neither do I condemn you… Go now and leave your life of sin.” Grace didn’t ignore the failure—it redefined the future.

JOURNAL 

One of the hardest things I still wrestle with—no matter how far I come—is reading the Bible daily. I hesitate even writing that, but it’s true. Sometimes I sit down and feel this weighty expectation, like I should want it more. There’s a strange resistance in me. It’s rarely the reading itself that stirs frustration—but the anticipation of it, the sense of duty over desire. And yet, almost every time I read, something shifts. It calms me. Grounds me. Not in a magical way, but in a real way—like fog lifting just enough to see the next step.

I’ve realized I need it—not because God demands it, but because without it, I drift. Subtly, almost unnoticeably at first. But then the distractions multiply, the pace quickens, and before I know it, I’ve lost sight of what matters. That’s exactly what happened to the people of Israel. The half-tribe of Manasseh wasn’t weak. On the contrary, they were famous warriors, capable and established. But when they lost their spiritual footing—when they stopped listening—they became vulnerable. Their exile wasn’t a punishment as much as it was a reflection of their distance from God.

And I see that in myself. I can build things—relationships, goals, rhythms—but if I disconnect from the Source, it all starts to feel hollow. Suffering, as Brennan Manning said, isn’t something to be avoided. It’s something we face, grab hold of, and somehow—by grace—use. And often, Scripture is where I face it. In its pages, I see my heart exposed, my habits confronted, my pride brought low. But I also find hope, like that woman in John 8. I find a Jesus who doesn’t flinch at my failures. Who doesn’t play the game of shame, but instead calls me to something better.

Yes, it’s worth noting that this story in John wasn’t found in the earliest manuscripts. But you know what? It feels so true to the character of Jesus that I cannot help but believe it reflects His heart. This story doesn’t just defend a woman—it defends the gospel itself. Jesus doesn’t ask, “Is she guilty?” He asks, “Who among you is without guilt?” And that question levels the room.

There are days I want justice—when I feel wronged or betrayed. But I’m reminded here that Jesus is always aiming for redemption, not just resolution. He’s not interested in blame as much as He is in breaking the cycle. That changes how I look at the people who hurt me. And it changes how I see myself.

Some days, the Word feels like a mirror. Other days, it feels like a lifeline. But no matter how I come to it—begrudging, bored, burdened—it meets me. And I’m reminded again why I need it.

Not because I’m trying to earn anything. But because without it, I forget who I am.


44Then Jesus cried out, “Whoever believes in me does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. 45The one who looks at me is seeing the one who sent me. 46I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness. 

JOHN 12:44-46

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