Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, “Give me a drink,” you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.” John 4:10

How does Jesus relate to someone weighed down with shame? He intentionally seeks them out and moves toward them with honor.

He expects intermittent eye contact. He expects to see someone braced, hidden in fear, expecting contempt instead of love. He invites them to come out of the shadows. He always has. Remember the lengths he went to just to reach one woman? He entered Samaria on a mission. He defied racial lines, gender lines, and moral lines to sit beside a women steeped in shame. He believed she was worth His time.

He did the same for a woman caught in adultery. Her accusers wanted a public stoning. Jesus intervened. He stooped to the ground, fingered the dust, and made room for a very awkward silence. Stones dropped. Mercy stood up and prevailed. He did not ignore, nor deny, her sin, but neither did He deepen her shame. He gave her truth wrapped in honor.

Anyone who struggles with shame will retreat further if I come at them with an air of superiority. They will not be drawn to Jesus if I preach to them from a place above them, trying to fix them before I have loved them. It is love that woos. And it is love that gives me the credibility to move to a place of words.

So who near me is afraid to lift their eyes? Who has already concluded they are unlovable, unworthy, and disqualified from a future? I must ask Jesus for His heart and His wisdom. He will ask me to approach with respect. He may suggest I lower my pace. He may ask me to keep my words to a minimum. Friendship first. Honor first. Building a bridge strong enough to support the truth.

Jesus, make me a place where wounded souls do not feel smaller, but safe. Let Your mercy rule me so that so that I see others through the tenderness of the cross.Amen

To put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians 4:22-24

Do you remember The Newlywed Game? Couples were asked questions that revealed how well they really knew one another. And, not just facts, but instincts. What will he do in this situation? What would he prefer given these two choices? Etc.

It makes me wonder ~ how well do I really know Jesus? Not just being able to recall the events of His life or the doctrines I affirm, but His ways. His tone. His instincts. The movements of His heart. How did He look at people? What stirred His compassion? What awakened His anger? How did He carry Himself in the presence of weakness, shame, sorrow, and betrayal?

This matters because we become like the One we love. The One that moves our heart the most shapes us. If I worship a Christ I barely know, my transformation will remain vague and shallow. But if I walk with Him slowly enough to really watch Him, sanctification begins to feel less like strain and more like surrender. I put off the old self as I fall in love with the new.

So for the next week, we’ll take a long look at Jesus.

How did He relate to those who lived with shame?
How did He handle the weakness of His disciples?
How did He navigate the relationship with His Father?
How did He face the devil without losing peace?

And what will happen to us as we watch Him?

I do not think we will come away untouched. I think we will love Him more. I think we will be comforted, convicted, and surprised by His beauty. We might even stumble momentarily. But I think we will also see more clearly where we are unlike Him. But that too will be grace.

Jesus, give us grace to stay near enough to You to be changed. Amen

And Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?”  Genesis 22:7

Can you feel this pivotal moment between Isaac and Abraham?  Isaac knows there’s going to be some kind of sacrifice.  The wood is ready, but where is the lamb?   With this question on his mind, he turns to ask his father.  Was it a casual inquiry or was he beginning to probe the unthinkable?

These kinds of moments are awful to live through.  Our gut knows that something is dreadfully wrong and we look to someone wise to tell us that this isn’t what we fear it is.  We feel like a child.  And we are.  We turn to the only wise Father to voice our questions.  Like Abraham, He welcomes us.  He understands our frame.  We are safe to need Him.

To live childlike with Him, even on good days, is to secure a posture that prepares us for the hard moments when we will cry out, “Abba, Daddy!”  We know it won’t feel awkward on our tongues.  With the right theology, it will be instinctive to run home for strength. 

The world says that maturity is becoming independent.  God says that maturity is to become more childlike.  The cynicism and fear that comes with age begs us to move us away from dependence on anyone.  We must intentionally cultivate childlike faith.  Life may seem like it is unraveling but God holds the threads. 

It’s possible, and necessary, to be tethered to the Rock of Ages.  How strong the cords of Love that held us fast! 

I need nothing, and no one, more than I need You, Lord.  Amen

Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of love. Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord, that he may come and shower righteousness upon you. Hosea 10:12

Is it possible to glimpse someone’s future by watching the pattern of their life? In many ways, yes. The repeated choices of righteousness or unrighteousness begin to trace a direction. If I understand the ways of the kingdom, I can often see where a person is headed. Patterns preach. They tell the truth about what a life is moving toward. What can interrupt a dark trajectory, however, is repentance.

If someone has a history of anger and I know him well, I can usually sense what will set him off. But I can not know whether an unrepentant heart may suddenly break open before God ~ even as I can not know whether a faithful saint may one day wander. But I do know the moral architecture of Scripture. We live in a sowing-and-reaping world. Seeds become harvests. To notice the likely fruit of someone’s life is not superstition, and it is not cruelty. It is biblical discernment. At times, to see clearly is simply to agree with God about where a path leads.

That clarity becomes especially painful when the life I am watching belongs to someone I love. What do I do when I foresee a shipwreck coming? I pray. I ask God to have mercy. I ask Him to shatter the schemes of the evil one who blinds the minds of unbelievers so they cannot see the glory of Christ. I ask Him to make my loved one spiritually needy enough to finally look up.

The past does not have to be the final prophet of the future. With God, the cycle can break. With God, repentance can turn a life around at the deepest level. With God, there is forgiveness, mercy, and a clean canvas on which grace can begin to paint again. He is able to redeem what looked certain, rewrite what seemed inevitable, and bring beauty out of what had all the markings of ruin.

Jesus, thank You for mercy that interrupts judgment, forgiveness that breaks dark patterns, and grace that gives a soul a future again. Amen

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
2 Corinthians 12:9

Last night I had a dream. I was in a large auditorium filled with strangers, though here and there were faces I loved—dear friends, even my parents. On the stage sat a grand piano under the glow of a single spotlight. It became clear that I was about to give a concert. And yet there had been no rehearsal and no prepared program. In spite of that, I was aware of a holy calm.

I climbed the stairs, sat at the piano bench, and waited for the opening words. Then they came: There is a current of grace. God’s grace. And when you find it, you can ride it instead of fighting it. You can lift your feet and let the Spirit carry you. From there, the music, the words, the atmosphere, everything seemed gathered into the current. Time disappeared.

For those of us who have lived much of our lives on a stage, performing becomes a familiar companion. I have known it as a pianist, flutist, singer, and Bible teacher. It is second nature to me. But the stage can also tutor the soul in the wrong things. A life in public can become a long hallway lined with others’ opinions, and it is a suffocating place to live.

Grace, however, is the holy current that moves beneath weakness, beneath inadequacy, beneath all the places where I don’t feel like I am enough. I do not have to thrash in that river. I do not have to impress anyone in my own strength. I can lift my feet and let myself be borne by the life of Another.

In this current, I’m called to write devotionals. Each morning feels like stepping onto a stage with no guarantee except this: His grace is enough. His thoughts are better than mine. His current still runs. My part is not to force revelation, but to enter the river.

Jesus, teach us to know the feel of Your current. Make Your grace so familiar, so unmistakable, that the moment we drop our feet back into the riverbed and begin resisting You, we feel the strain of it. Amen

By faith, after Moses was born, he was hidden by his parents for three months, because they saw that the child was beautiful, and they didn’t fear the king’s edict. Hebrews 11:23

Fear is one of Satan’s oldest and sharpest weapons against the children of God. Because we were not created for evil, darkness unsettles us. Cruelty feels foreign. We cannot find our way through its maze or make sense of it. No wonder Scripture says so often, Do not be afraid. God keeps repeating it because fear so easily becomes the atmosphere we breathe. I think I’m finally getting the message that I should be able to encounter evil without being moved to terror. That does not mean evil becomes less evil. It means God becomes weightier.

This small verse about Moses’ parents has escaped me. Pharaoh had issued a horrifying decree: every Hebrew baby boy was to be drowned. And yet Yocheved carried a son in her womb and did not live under the king’s edict as though it were the highest word over her life. She hid Moses after he was born, and when she could hide him no longer, she made a bold and costly plan, one that would eventually place him in Pharaoh’s own household. No wonder she is remembered for faith.

Her courage was immense in the eyes of God.Threats from the powerful can paralyze. They can create an atmosphere of dread that seeps into the bones of the weak. Yocheved teaches us what unshaken trust looks like. She hid her baby. She saw the beauty of her son. She discerned that this child’s life mattered in the purposes of God. And somewhere beneath her planning, her tears, and her risk-taking, there was confidence. The king’s decree was not ultimate. God was.

Darkness still flexes its muscles. We are not always able to tell which threats are empty and which are not. There will always come a moment that makes even the strong tremble. In that hour, faith becomes a lifeline. And whether I can trust God in the dark will depend, in large part, on whether I have learned to trust Him in the light. Faith is not improvised in the crisis. It is cultivated beforehand. The time to prepare for the dark is while the light is still shining.

I refuse to finish my life with fear winning. Keep training me. Amen