What is accomplished by God’s power is often accomplished through God’s people. God’s love doesn’t just stay inside us. It moves through us toward others. John Wesley once said that love for our neighbor is the proof that we’ve “passed from death to life.” In other words, real faith always shows up in real relationships.
Holiness is not just about having kind feelings or private devotion. It grows as we live together in love. Wesley called this _social holiness_. That is the idea that we become more like Jesus not in isolation, but in community. We learn patience, forgiveness, compassion, and service when we walk with one another.
For Wesley, this wasn’t theory. Early Methodists visited prisons, cared for the poor, and taught children. Their love for God naturally overflowed into action. But their acts of mercy weren’t separate from their spiritual growth. They were part of it. As they served, prayed, confessed, and encouraged one another in small groups, they discovered that holiness was something they shared.
That’s why Wesley said, “The gospel of Christ knows no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.” Our faith can’t remain private if it’s going to stay alive. The Christian life is meant to be lived together around tables, in prayer circles, through service projects, and in the everyday encouragement of one another within the community.
When we live this way, our love becomes a witness. Wesley warned that “the grand pest of Christianity is faith without works.” Holiness that doesn’t reach others isn’t all that holy. But when believers love one another deeply, that love draws people in. As such, evangelism isn’t a program. It’s what happens when grace overflows.
May we live our holiness together, so that the world sees Christ through the love we share.
John Wesley once said that holiness is “the end of all ordinances of God.” In other words, everything God gives us, prayer, Scripture, worship, community, is meant to draw us toward one goal: love made complete within us. Holiness begins in God’s heart and finds its fulfillment when God's love transforms ours.
Wesley’s idea of Christian perfection wasn’t about being sinless. It was about being made whole in love. It’s the renewal of our hearts in God’s image, where Christ’s Spirit so fills us that love becomes our motive, our joy, and our way of life. Holiness is not something we achieve through our own efforts. It is the gracious work of God within us.
Wesley once asked, “Who would oppose loving God in such a way?” His question reminds us that holiness isn’t a burden. It's an invitation that shows us that God desires to renew our hearts so completely that we live in a steady flow of love for God and for others.
Now, this journey of holiness is not just solitary. True holiness always reaches outward. The love God plants within us grows through our relationships, our kindness, and our willingness to serve. To live wholly for God means allowing God's Spirit to turn our attention away from self and toward the needs of others.
Sometimes, the church forgets this calling. We measure success by activity or numbers instead of the quiet work of grace within us. But holiness remains the real measure of growth. The increase of God’s love in our lives!
Do you remember those car commercials with the slogan, 'The relentless pursuit of perfection'? If human hands can reshape metal, fiberglass, and cupholders, how much more can God reshape a heart? Holiness is that ongoing work. God’s love poured into us, forming us day by day into the image of Christ.
My pastoral journey began more than twenty years ago. In those early years, I was fortunate to have been blessed with mentors who taught me how to plan, budget, lead, and resolve conflicts. Their lessons were practical and helped me understand how to guide people and build ministries with care and purpose. As the years went on, another question began to stir in me: What is all this leadership really for?
That question has changed how I see ministry. Leadership in the church is not just about managing programs or growing churches. It is about shaping lives. It is about helping people learn how to follow Jesus in real, everyday ways. Many models of church leadership seem to assume that discipleship will happen naturally as people participate in church activities. But I’ve learned that discipleship must be intentional. If we’re not careful, we end up focusing more on keeping the church running than on helping the church become holy.
When I look at our Wesleyan heritage, I see that John Wesley didn’t assume discipleship. He organized it. He knew that holiness was not achieved in isolation but formed through community, through small groups, prayer, and accountability. Wesley understood that grace shapes us, holiness refines us, and community sustains us.
That’s the kind of leadership the church still needs: leaders who help others grow in grace, love deeply, and live faithfully. We are called to nurture disciples, not just manage ministries.
Today, I invite you to reflect: In your own leadership, home, or relationships, are you helping others grow closer to Christ, or are you just keeping things running smoothly? Ask God to guide you in forming lives, not just maintaining church to-do lists. Let your leadership, in whatever form it takes, become an act of holy love.
In Acts 24, Felix listened to Paul's defense. The text tells us that the governor "was rather well informed about the Way." We know his wife was Jewish. So, she could have let Felix in on the information she had heard about this growing movement. As a political leader, he may have already been aware of the events that had been taking place. He may have investigated for himself what all the fuss was about.
It seems like something he knew about the Way impacted what he was willing to do for Paul.
I'd be curious to find out what he knew. I'm always somewhat curious to sense what people know about our faith. Sometimes, people who are not Christian may know more about the Christian faith than those who are. In our modern world, a simple web search can teach us far more about anything than Felix could ever think possible.
But I want to reflect on what we show the world about Christianity. Today's passage reminds us of the Way. That label pointed people to Jesus and identified his followers as those who followed his way. I'm all for bringing that ID and expectation back! Learning about a religion's background and history is one thing. But showing the world the Way with our daily lives is something different.
People notice our patience, integrity, generosity, humility, and how we treat others more than they notice our theological arguments. I'm convinced much of the supposed negativity directed toward Christianity is a result of many Christians not living up to those standards.
That means every interaction is a chance to demonstrate the Way. Is that a lot? Does that seem like a heavy burden? Perhaps. That's why we always pray for Spirit's help.
It's important for us to take time often to reflect on what our lives reveal to the world about Jesus. How are we embodying the Lord so that others can see how powerful the Way is?
Some people say, “The next generation just isn’t listening.” Let's assume that's right. Well, what if they're not listening because we’ve stopped talking about God? Oh, we talk about God stuff. Church. Church programs. Church budges. Church attendance.
We talk much about what's wrong with the world and all that used to be right. There's room for that, by the way. But when was the last time we told our children what God has done for us? When was the last time we shared how God brought us through, not in some general sense, but in if-it-hadn't-been-for-God detail?
Listen to the psalmist's loud praise. He says, "I will lift you up high, my God, the true king. I will bless your name forever and always.” Not, “I’ll keep a low profile and hope that's enough for someone to notice.” That's not bold enough for the psalmist. He refuses to let silence erase the story of God’s goodness.
The reality is that our faith has always been an echo from someone else. You didn't start or create your faith. One generation speaks so that another can hear. One life tells the story of God's goodness so another can believe. And if we stop echoing, what happens to the story? Maybe we've stopped giving people something worth listening to.
And maybe revival doesn’t begin with louder music or even better programs. Maybe it starts around the dinner table, in the car ride home, in the ordinary moments where we say, "God answered this prayer.” “God kept us when we didn’t think we’d make it.” “God is still good.”
As you think about how God has been good to you, make a decision. Let’s not just pass down our traditions. Let’s pass down our testimony.
To reject our faith's call for social justice is to ignore some of the Bible's most uncompromising words. Take the prophet Amos, for example.
Amos was a shepherd and farmer chosen by God to speak up for true faithfulness. The prophet spoke to the prosperous northern kingdom. At this point, Israel looked well on the outside. They were religious, wealthy, and stable. Underneath their veneer of holiness, however, lay a foundation of systemic injustice. The poor were oppressed, the courts were corrupt, and the powerful people lived in comfort at others' expense.
Today's reading is like a courtroom speech. The Lord lists the "many" crimes and "numerous" sins of the people. You didn't have to be God to see them all in action. They weren't secret, hidden things. They were normalized parts of society. And if injustice lies underneath our success and prosperity, God is not impressed because we have failed to love and protect others.
So, what's the response? God says plainly, "Seek good."
To seek implies a continuous spirit. This is not a one-time choice or a "I've done my good deed for the day" mentality. Instead, this seeking is a way of life. To seek God, in part, is to seek the good of others. Every decision is a chance to choose life for another human being. So, Amos told the people to keep from harming others.
But he didn't stop there.
If you're seeking good, you'll run out of room for evil. You'll learn to love what is good. When we learn to love what is truly good, we will not be able to stand by and let others be deprived of it. That's when we decide to "establish justice at the city gate."
Today, ask yourself, where in my life have I confused comfort with faithfulness? And what would it look like to seek good there?
This past Sunday was a busy one. I wasn't home for much of the day. Even in the evening, I had some things that I needed to get done. Before that, though, I took a little time to watch a bit of NFL football. Usually, I don't listen to the commentators, but I'm glad I had the volume up this time. A statistic that one commentator shared caught my attention.
In the last five years, the player who has scored the most points might surprise you. It's not a highly-rated quarterback or wide receiver. It's not a powerful running back. I would've guessed it'd be one of those guys, since they score touchdowns every week to win games. But the highest scorer in the league is a kicker, someone who kicks field goals and extra points.
That got me thinking about how the little things matter.
Praying every day may not seem like much to you. Your Bible reading sometimes feels like it doesn't add up to much. Even the things you do for other people don't look like anything remarkable.
When did God ever say you had to make a big splash all the time? Our time on earth is made up of little moments that make life beautiful and good. Whatever you can do to take part in that is a blessing. Remember something Dr. Seuss said: "To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world."
I take that to mean the little kicks of life that we bring to others can often be the blessing they need when they need it. Imagine what we're missing if we take that away. Today, don't underestimate the ordinary. Steady obedience to God scores more for the kingdom than anything flashy. So, keep kicking.
We have to judge people better. That sounds strange because most of us have heard that Jesus said we shouldn't judge. We take that to mean we shouldn't judge anyone at all. But that's a hard sell. Plus, that's not what Jesus meant. At another time, he would say to judge people correctly.
Then there's the apostle Paul. He made the case to the Corinthians that we shouldn't judge people outside the church. That is, how can you judge someone who does not share your faith by your standards of faith? It's not our job to Christian police the world. If the Corinthians thought Paul meant they shouldn't associate with any sinners at all, they'd have to leave the world entirely.
Instead, what Paul was teaching them was that they should look within the church. Our calling is to live as people who take God's grace seriously. Especially as a congregation, we are to be honest about our struggles and look to hold one another accountable. By doing so, we let God create a community that reflects God's love and holiness.
The idea is not that we become finger pointers. Rather, we seek to respond to God's grace so much that we're willing to look inward at who we are, what we are. To repent and grow together in love. That doesn't happen by accident. And it doesn't happen by a desire to condemn. As we learn to judge correctly, we look for the transformation God truly desires for us all.
Dallas Willard said, "Grace is not opposed to effort. It is opposed to earning." That is to say that God's grace is not something we strive to earn. You can't work your way to earn God's love. Any attempt to do so is a misconceived notion. Grace opposes earning because earning doesn't need Jesus. We wouldn't need Jesus if we only had to follow some holy formula.
But grace understands our efforts. And our efforts aren't ways to influence God. Instead, we strive for the godliness God calls us to. Because of all that God has given us, 2 Peter 1 instructs us to make every effort to add to our faith. That means spiritual growth is not about earning God's love, but responding to what God has already given.
Grace allows us the room to grow, but we still have to put in the work. Even with a gym membership, you still need to show up and train. So, when Peter says to "make every effort," he means for us to set ourselves to grow in the Spirit through diligent pursuit of God's holiness.
Methodists should already understand this. That's where our name comes from. The early Methodists relied on methods to deepen their faith and to stay in line with the Spirit's work within them. They seemed to have known that if you don't actively seek to grow, you'll gradually move backward.
Finally, another reason you need to keep making the effort is that transformation doesn't happen all at once. Peter lists several qualities to add to your faith, one after the other. That seems to imply a process, not a one-time change. Every season of life needs its own effort. All that to say, your effort becomes a form of worship, saying, “God, I want to become who you already see me to be.”
None of us plans to go to prison. Yet, during my time with the Kairos community, I met men who thanked God for exactly that experience. Before that, they lived as they pleased, often without considering the impact of their actions on others. But prison changed everything. A strict schedule replaced freedom, and choices were limited. Their physical freedom was taken, but in that confinement, many discovered a deeper kind of freedom. They learned to live more responsibly, reflect, and rely on structure and guidance outside themselves.
Paul writes about a similar kind of spiritual “confinement” in 2 Corinthians 1:8-9. In Asia, he and his companions were overwhelmed, burdened beyond their strength, and even felt great despair. But it was through this that Paul realized he could not rely solely on himself. Just as the men in Kairos found freedom in boundaries and reliance on what they could not control, Paul found life-giving strength in surrendering to God. Sometimes it is in our most desperate moments that we are forced to depend on what truly sustains us.
What situations in your life feel beyond your strength right now? Maybe that's a place where God is calling you to trust more fully. Like Paul, we can surrender our burdens and trust that God will carry us through. Notice, too, that Paul received help through the prayers of other people. As we learn to lean on God, we also learn to support one another through prayer, encouragement, and presence.
God's faithfulness always remains. Our trials can become our testimony as we learn to see the paths God offers us to life, freedom from sin, and gratitude. Find that area where you feel overwhelmed right now. Invite God into it, trusting the Lord to carry what you cannot.
When I went for my treatments, I knew I’d be away from home for a while. I didn’t expect how much I would miss the small comforts, especially shared meals. One evening, I received a text message. A friend and colleague from Nigeria had sent another friend to visit me with Nigerian food. It was a great spread, and it was a kind gesture I will always remember.
That meal reminded me that food communicates in much the same way language does. It’s how we say, “You’re not alone.” Our basic need for food is a powerful reminder of our shared humanity. When our hunger is not satisfied, we all experience loss. Sharing food and meals, then, becomes more than just a means of nourishment. It becomes an act of recognizing our common life together. My friend couldn’t be with me in person, but through a shared meal, he showed solidarity, care, and friendship.
Throughout Scripture, meals carry sacred meaning. Abraham welcomed three strangers by preparing a meal, and through that hospitality, he entertained angels (Genesis 18). Jesus shared meals with sinners and tax collectors, breaking down walls of judgment with simple acts of presence. And on the night before his death, Jesus took bread and cup, forever transforming a meal into a sign of divine love and community.
In Acts 2, the early believers “broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.” The church grew not only through preaching and prayer, but through shared tables, through meals that built belonging and strengthened faith.
Every meal we share becomes a small reflection of God’s kingdom, a taste of grace that reminds us we are bound together by God's love.
So whether it’s a home-cooked dinner, a restaurant meal, or takeout brought to a hotel room, sharing food is a sacred act. It says, I see you. I care. You belong.
I've been reflecting on a prayer that was shared with me at the start of a new work week. It is a prayer for empathy, vulnerability, and curiosity. While these may not sound like your typical spiritual disciplines, they can help draw us closer to God.
Empathy helps us see others as God sees them. And that helps us see that people are not problems to be solved or opponents to be defeated. They are people to understand. Empathy asks us to listen and imagine what life feels like for someone else. Doing so often stretches us beyond our own comfort or certainty.
Vulnerability is a posture of faith that awakens us to the unknown. Being vulnerable means being willing to be changed, surprised, or even unsettled. We often resist change because it exposes our comfort levels. But if we let God surprise us, we discover strength and grace in new ways. Vulnerability, then, is not weakness. It is trust and the courage to believe that God’s Spirit can work through our uncertainty.
Curiosity renews faith. It keeps us asking questions, exploring the mystery of God, and noticing the sacred in our everyday life. When we lose our sense of curiosity, our faith can become rigid or afraid. When we allow curiosity to thrive, we see and experience grace in many more ways as we discover more of who God is and who we are becoming in Christ.
All this is to say that the journey toward holiness includes an openness we should discipline ourselves to pursue. God invites us to grow through Spirit-led change. So, may God lead us into empathy, vulnerability, and curiosity. And as we grow, may we help others do the same so that, together, we find ourselves more whole in the love of Christ.
Yesterday, I preached a sermon based on the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. I hid a joke in the message, but I don't think anyone caught it. The joke was wrapped in the idea that the Pharisee was the one you'd expect to get things right. The tax collector was someone most people would write off.
I didn't say it was a good joke! But the point still stands. It's like saying the criminal went home forgiven by God, while the pastor didn't even come close. Of course, that's not an impossible scenario. It does represent a reversal Luke likes to highlight in his story.
What I didn't emphasize in the message that I would want to spend more time on is the tax collector's prayer. It was short, but meaningful. We recognize that he asks God for mercy. But we might not fully appreciate the depth of his understanding of mercy. It wasn't just a cry to forgive my mistakes. Jesus ensures the tax collector speaks in a manner that demonstrates his belief and trust in God's atonement.
Someone like him might think God's atoning work can't or shouldn't apply to him. He knows he needs it. What chance does he have for it? Only that God is willing to give him grace. And that's what he understood more than the Pharisee. Of course, we're supposed to understand that the man was asking for something God is always willing to give. That's the point.
Your religious life may or may not be all that great right now. We go up and down, but God's grace remains constant and sure. That’s why the tax collector’s prayer matters so much. It isn’t about getting it all right. It’s about knowing who God is and trusting that God’s mercy reaches even you.
The thing about predicting the end of the world is that, someday, someone will be right about it. Until then, all the talk about the last days is just that. Talk.
Many Christians look at the state of the world and are sure this is what the Bible was warning us about. Maybe they're right. Or perhaps there have always been patterns of brokenness that emerge to the forefront of a society and culture.
Of course, I don't mean to downplay what we see. Like you, I notice the selfishness, greed, and misplaced love that get celebrated and perpetuated today. It fills our newsfeed and shapes our values because it's almost impossible to ignore. But I don't see those things and think about the end of the world. I see them as proof that we have always had the same choice. Will we love ourselves first, or love God most? Last days moments happen in every generation.
As the world chooses self-centeredness, what is our response? Many Christians are at the ready to call out the world's sins. Sometimes, though, that's self-righteousness dressed up as holiness. Today's text from 2 Timothy offers a simple response to what we see in the world: Avoid them!
Maybe spend less energy pointing fingers at people you barely know, and instead take the more introspective route. Make sure you're not settling for the lesser things yourself.
No, really, make sure.
A Christian label doesn't mean there's an inner transformation of the Spirit. It's possible to look faithful but live faithlessly. That's the danger I read again and again in scripture, and worry about more and more. So, avoid those things that lure you into that kind of life and find the abundance of God that comes from true obedience to the Lord.
Today, take inventory of your loves. Ask the Spirit to strip away anything in you that only looks godly and replace it with a living faith in Jesus.
I’ve often thought that my role as a pastor is a bit like that of a cheerleader or a waterboy. I'm there to offer encouragement and inspiration as you live out what God has called you to do. I used to think of myself as the church’s trainer, helping to get everyone ready for the work ahead. But after reading today’s text, I realize that role might already be taken.
There's a question of textual authenticity related to Luke 22:43-44. Those two verses don’t appear in some of the earliest manuscripts we have. So, scholars debate whether Luke originally wrote them or if they were added later. Whatever your view, these verses still draw us into meaningful reflection.
The passage tells us that an angel appeared to Jesus while he was at his lowest point, giving him strength. There’s a give and take in the angel's appearance. The angel gives, and Jesus receives. As he receives, he is strengthened.
Think about that. Jesus had already prayed one of the most difficult prayers of life. You know the word: “Not my will, but yours be done.” How has your life changed by praying that prayer? But after praying, Luke tells us that the angel strengthened him, and then Jesus prayed more earnestly.
One commentator describes the angel’s role like that of a trainer preparing an athlete. Trainers know when to push, when to guide, and when to help lift someone back to their feet. Think about when a player goes down in a game. The trainer is the first one on the field to help.
My hope is that we all experience that kind of divine help in our own struggles. At my church, we often call “angels” those people who show up just when we need them most. Their presence brings strength, God’s strength, right when it’s needed. I'm encouraged by that because it reminds me that the struggle doesn't always go away. But God still provides strength, often through our willingness to show up and walk alongside each other.
My wife and I added bubble parties to our small business venture. We love spreading joy, and there's something about bubbles that makes everyone happy. At a bubble party this weekend, I noticed something you've probably seen, too. Every time a child showed up to the party and saw all the soapy, floating spheres, the first thing they would say was, "Bubbles!"
I started thinking, What makes a child feel like they have to say it out loud every time? My guess is they can’t keep the joy to themselves. It’s like their hearts recognize something wonderful and their mouths just respond. They don’t analyze the situation. They don’t hold back. It's almost like they can't. They just say it: Bubbles!
Don't you think that's what praise should be? Real joy that we experience in God overflows from our hearts. When we pay attention to something beautiful that God has done, it’s natural to speak it, to sing it, and to let it rise like bubbles into the air.
A 19th-century Baptist minister wrote these words as part of an American folksong:
The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart, A fountain ever springing; All things are mine since I am his— How can I keep from singing?
But don't we sometimes keep ourselves from singing? The psalmist said, “Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have ordained praise” (Psalm 8:2). It's a gift that children see something we forget, that joy deserves a voice.
I wonder if our faith would feel lighter if we let praise come as easily as children do. When you notice God’s goodness today, say it out loud. Whisper it, sing it, or share it. Let your heart speak the joy it has found in God. You might find your praise rising just like those bubbles.
John Wesley understood holiness to be God's ultimate goal, calling it "the end of all ordinances of God." Holiness begins and ends as God's purpose and is the love-centered renewal of God's Spirit within us. Like grace, love is the divine initiative towards holiness, restoring humanity to perfect love. Holiness also becomes humanity’s participation in that redemptive process.
Wesleyan holiness moves toward Christian perfection. That is a term John Wesley spent considerable time explaining. Many people in Wesley's day, as do today, misunderstood what he meant by his use of perfection. In his sermon "Plain Account of Christian Perfection," Wesley explains how he came to understand this idea and how much it guided his work as a minister.
Plainly, Christian perfection is the fulfillment of God's desire for humanity. It is "a renewal of the heart in the whole image of God, the full likeness of Him that created it." That renewal is God's work, which leads us to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and teaches us to love our neighbor as ourselves. Further, Christian perfection is the fullness of Christ living within us.
After unpacking his distinguishing doctrine, Wesley asks who would oppose loving God in such a way. Who would speak against God's renewal of heart and mind? Why would any Christian stand against God's intention for every believer? Shall anyone limit what God is willing and able to do? Wesley certainly would not. At another time, Wesley would say, "If Christ be risen, ye ought then to die unto the world, and to live wholly unto God." That is to say, Christian perfection is the desire of God and the hopeful anticipation of those who have chosen to follow Christ.
Our Wesleyan understanding doesn't mean our life will be free from sin or mistakes. But, by God's grace, it will be marked by holiness that frees us from sin's enslavement and leads us to God's perfect love.
In his sermon "The Causes of Inefficacy of Christianity," John Wesley wrestled with the question, Why has Christianity done so little good in the world? For many of us today who have been shaped by the vitality of the Methodist movement, that is an odd question for Wesley to ask. We see Methodists as making significant contributions in the realms of spiritual and social renewal. So, what did Wesley see during his time that led him to question the Church's witness to the world? He was not questioning the church's accomplishments. He was making a judgment on its spiritual condition.
Wesley offers three responses. He observed an ignorance of correct doctrine, the neglect of Christian discipline, and a loss of discipleship rooted in self-denial. We could spend time on all three of his answers and relate them to our modern context. Today, though, let's focus on Wesley's third observation. He writes of the church's discipleship: "Plainly, because we have forgot, or at least not duly attended to, those solemn words of our Lord, 'If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.'" Wesley saw that the call to discipleship, to follow Jesus, had waned. It was either forgotten as a mandate or not given the attention it rightly requires. In either case, the result was a failure to answer the “intention" God set for the church.
This forgetting was not just a moral decline. It was a letting go of God's "gracious dispensation," something Wesley would describe in another sermon. The call to follow Jesus, which we understand as discipleship, is not sustained by our own resolve or actions. Instead, God's power works within us. When we forget this, discipleship becomes optional, and we become less of what God desires us to be. The world doesn't need a church full of itself. It needs the witness of a church that has surrendered itself to the call to follow Christ.
My wife and I have seen every episode of Call the Midwife. It's one of our favorite shows. The midwives of Nonnatus House have ministered to people in meaningful, Christ-like ways. Over fourteen seasons, there are several scenes that have really resonated with me. In this most recent season, an older nun asks a new postulant what God asked her to surrender in order to take on this new life. The younger devotee answers confidently, "Everything."
Of course, that is the right answer. But the older, wiser nun gently replies, "'Everything' is merely a word." She knows "everything" sounds noble and true. But it can also be a generality too broad to shape a faithful life. She follows up by asking, "What did your everything consist of?"
I've been thinking of the best way to answer that question since I first heard it. Everything's too easy an answer. And it may not be an honest one. How many of us live surrounded by junk drawers, storage buildings, garages and full closets of everything? We often hold on to more than we let go.
Everything is a good Sunday School answer. That's where we begin. But our faith and calling do not stop there. Part of our walk with Jesus is naming what God is actually asking us to leave behind. If we never identify everything, we won't actually leave anything. We'll become more attached to everything. Everything and more.
If we don't consider what our everything is, we'll keep collecting what doesn't connect us to God's love.
My encouragement to you today is to take some time to reflect on that question: "What did your everything consist of?" Be honest about what you haven't left. Write down three things that might be keeping you from fully following Jesus. Think of habits, attachments, or fears. Pray over each one, and ask the Lord for the courage to make room for something better from God.
The apostle Paul was the persecutor turned preacher. After his encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus, his life underwent a transformation. Whatever you might say about him, you can't ignore his passion. Once he started sharing the gospel, he never turned back. His life was marked by an unrelenting desire for the world to know Jesus. Nothing kept him from that mission. Not hardship or ridicule, not persecution or imprisonment.
In Acts 26, he had a chance to make his defense before King Agrippa. He explained his conversion and what his ministry has entailed since then. Festus, the Roman governor, thought Paul had gone over the deep end. But the apostle didn't let that stop him from addressing the king.
King Agrippa responds to Paul with his famous question: Are you so quickly persuading me to become a Christian? Paul's reply offers a guide for how we might approach evangelism and outreach.
Paul says, "Whether quickly or not, I pray to God that not only you but also all who are listening to me today might become such as I am." Paul could not put pressure on a king to persuade him to convert, and he didn't try to. All he could do was share his story of faith and let God do the rest. He didn't try to pressure the king or anyone else. His testimony was heartfelt and free of manipulation.
None of us can force someone else to believe. Trying to isn't a worthy goal. Instead, like Paul, we live with the passion God gives us and become faithful witnesses to God's love. Couple that with prayer and let God do the rest. Our role is not to win arguments, but to love people. Passion without pressure means that we trust all our conversations, every act of kindness, and every prayer become a part of someone else's journey to Christ.
