In Acts 19, we meet Demetrius. He was a silversmith who made a good living crafting silver shrines of the goddess Artemis. For Demetrius and his colleagues, business was booming.

Until it wasn’t.

The gospel began spreading and people started turning from idol worship and toward The Way. Suddenly, idolatry was losing its profitability. Demetrius, worried about losing income and, perhaps, influence, stirred up the city. His no little protest against Paul quickly led to a riot.

To our ears, Paul's message may not sound controversial. For us, faith is a matter of choice. But don't miss how irrational and disruptive his message was to a poly-theistic world. To reject the gods of the Roman world would be to reject Roman civil life itself. You can hear that nervousness when Demetrius acknowledged that Artemis' reputation might suffer.

But the real trouble for Demetrius happened when people began living differently. That’s what I appreciate most about this moment. The problem wasn’t so much the preacher and his sermons but the response of the people. Panic didn’t set in when the word was in the pulpit but when faith got real.

As a preacher, that's something I pray for. Not good sermons, but real faith. Faith that reshapes priorities. Discipleship that impacts more than Sunday mornings.

When people follow Jesus with intention, things shift. Hearts change. Families change. Whole communities can change. Acts 19 shows us that even profit margins can tremble at the name of Jesus.

That's the kind of change we long for. A world where industries built on insecurity, exploitation or illusion feel pressure to change, too.

Sometimes it feels like the world doesn't just ignore the poor. It runs right over them.

The people with the most power or platform seem to have the loudest and more important voice. Meanwhile, those carrying the heaviest burdens get pushed further to the margins. And far too often, we not only overlook this reality, we participate in it. We let it happen. We might even benefit from it. 

But the psalmist doesn’t say, “I hope the Lord will help.” He says, “I know that the Lord maintains the cause of the needy and executes justice for the poor.” That’s faith rooted in trust and experience. That’s someone who has seen God act before and expects God to act again in a particular way with a particular alignment.

God defends the vulnerable. God notices when others overlook. God doesn’t take a that's-too-bad approach. God upholds their cause. That means God is involved, not distant. Active, not passive. "So you say you love the poor? What are their names," Gustavo Gutiérrez asked. God knows their name. Do we?

God secures justice and takes up the cause of the needy. And if that’s who God is, then we should resist anything that harms, silences or exploits the most vulnerable among us. As we do, we know we don’t carry the burden alone. We don’t have to fix everything ourselves. This already matters to the Lord.

In my tradition, when someone is baptized, they’re asked: “Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?” In my years of pastoral ministry, I’ve never heard anyone answer “no.” I’ve also never met anyone who said they doubt those things are real.

But I do wonder if we keep some of those words up on a high shelf. As mere lofty ideals, that freedom and power stay there out of our normal use and away from our everyday convictions. We believe in justice in theory, but we don’t always know what to do with it when evil hides behind systems, status or even religion.

As a kid, TV shaped my images of good and evil. God looked like a white-bearded man in the sky. The devil wore red, had horns and carried a pitchfork. But real evil is sneakier than that. It doesn’t always come with a costume. It shows up quietly, clothed in lies, inequality, pride and power grabs. It breaks peace. It divides community. And worst of all, it often wins.

Evil, injustice and oppression can even veil as right as they lie, cheat and hurt people. As peace makers, what's more frustrating and discouraging than watching evil prosper?

So, when you feel discouraged by what evil gets away with, pray. Pray like the psalmist. Is there other tangible work to do in the fight against injustice and evil? Of course. Some call that good trouble. But our willingness to pray in earnest and honesty shapes how we respond. Praying like the psalmist reminds me that when the wicked seems to win, God isn't done yet.

Stay blessed...john

Some days, it feels like everything is coming at you.

How many unkind words can you really take all at once? How many times does a simple misunderstanding spiral into something overblown? When have you felt the weight of someone else’s agenda pressing in on you? Even if it’s not full-on spiritual warfare, you can can feel like you’re under attack. From people, from life's pressures and even from past wounds that haven’t fully healed.

Psalm 140 gives us a way to pray in those moments.

First, start with who God is. “You are my God,” the psalmist says (v.6). That’s not just theology. That's a relationship. A life lived in communion with the Lord. When you feel cornered or overwhelmed, that reminder grounds you. It tells you my God is near. My God is listening. My God is mine.

Then the psalm offers a vivid image. Your God that loves you and is with you, is your shield. Sometimes we just need God to cover us. Our heads are where thoughts can linger, fears can grow and plans may form. When the day feels like a battle, ask God to guard not just your body, but your mind and your motives.