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.
John Wesley wrote: "God is continually breathing, as it were, upon the soul; and his soul is breathing unto God. Grace is descending into his heart; and prayer and praise ascending to heaven: And by this intercourse between God and man, this fellowship with the Father and the Son, as by a kind of spiritual respiration, the life of God in the soul is sustained, and the child of God grows up, till he comes to the 'full measure of the stature of Christ.'"
Wesley wrote that to answer the question of how we are born again in Christ. He called it spiritual respiration. Like our breathing keeps us physically alive, communion with God keeps us spiritually alive. Breathing is constant and essential. So, too, should be our awareness of God.
Our faith, then, isn't static, stale or mechanical. It is a living, relational rhythm with God. As God breathes grace into us, we respond with prayer and praise. That, says Wesley, is how God keeps us alive in Christ.
When we stop breathing spiritually, our soul begins to suffocate. We hold our spiritual breath by neglecting prayer, worship and service to God. As such, these practices are not ways to get in good with God. Instead, they are our responses to God's grace that help maintain the divine rhythm. And that is how we maintain fellowship with the Lord.
My wife is jealous of how quickly I can fall asleep. I've always told her it's because I know how to breathe to fall asleep. More people are learning how to use breathing techniques to control anxiety, quiet anger and find focus. So, breathing is more than having breath. It's having life!
Take care of your breathing. Breathe in grace. Breathe out praise.
Today, a group from our church watched an episode of The Chosen. The episode centered around Jesus' sermon on the mount. In previous episodes, the disciples and Jesus had been preparing for this moment. His message seemed to resonate with them in a profound way. I promised the group I'd try to preach a good enough sermon to follow suit.
I've heard of many people praying for the right miracle. I'm sure you have, too. Today's episode has me wondering if we should also pray for the right message.
The prophet Jeremiah preached to the people for twenty-three years (Jeremiah 25:3). In that time, the people did not respond. He said the people "neither listened nor inclined" their ears to hear. That's a long time to ignore what God is telling you. It's easy to focus on how stubborn the people were, but I also can't help thinking about how loving God must be to keep speaking for so long.
God will send prophets to speak the messages we need to hear. Preachers, too. While we may want miracles to rescue us, it is the messages that redirect us. And, most times, that may be what we need more of from God.
When things fall apart, we're quick to blame the devil. Maybe even God. But how much of what happens is a consequence of our unwillingness to truly hear? We're often better at explaining ourselves than examining ourselves. For God's people, their exile would be the way to unlearn what their comfort and selfishness had taught them.
Today is a good day to stop and listen for something God may have been patiently trying to tell you. Something you've been too busy, too distracted, or too certain to hear. Don't wait twenty-three years to hear the message that could change everything.
One day, Jesus cursed a fig tree, drove people out of the temple, and flipped some tables. The funny thing is, as Mark tells it, Jesus isn't angry. These aren't outbursts, but faith lessons. Each move is a deliberate teaching action.
The next morning, Peter sees the fig tree Jesus had cursed. He seems surprised. But Jesus had said no one would ever eat fruit from it.
So, what was the problem? The fig tree was like a staged home. Oh, the furniture looks beautiful and makes a wonderful impression on those who enter. It is perfectly presentable. But it is lifeless; no one lives there. The fig tree had leaves that appeared to be ready to bear fruit. But it was all show. An empty promise.
Since Jesus' actions in the temple are sandwiched by the lesson of the fig tree, it seems appropriate to make a connection. Namely, that Jesus wanted us to learn a difference. The difference was between religious activity and spiritual authenticity. Maybe busyness versus fruitfulness.
Even today, we face that same temptation. We live in a highlight-reel culture. We post everything that looks good about our life and even our faith. We filter our flaws and hide behind Bible verses. We might even attend every religious event and know all the right words. But we are spiritually dehydrated. And that leads us to unfruitfulness.
Thankfully, Jesus doesn't shame us. Instead, he calls us out to bring us back to his abundant life. God is not looking for a show. God desires fruit. An empty faith cannot move mountains. So, the invitation today is to live authentically before God because the Lord wants fruit, not foliage.
As you reflect on this story, think about the leaves you let show. Do they represent real spiritual fruit or merely a religious facade? Let the love of God within you match what you show on the outside.
Many preachers have heard the warning: No one comes to church on Sunday wondering what happened to the Jebusites.
That's a reminder that when we preach, our job isn't just to give a history lesson. Our people don't need lectures, but wisdom and inspiration that help them make sense of their lives right now. God's word doesn't live in the past. It also speaks to our present.
I think about that opening quote sometimes when we talk about exile. Most of the people I have pastored don't know what it's like to be carried off to another land; I don't. Exile sounds like an abstract idea. At least, we think it does.
Psalm 137 shows us we might understand exile more than we realize. Unless you've been torn from your homeland, stripped of everything familiar in life, even separated from your family, you haven't experienced the kind of exile the psalmist writes about. But when he says, "By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down, and there we wept when we remembered Zion," you can hear their sorrow. The people are in a faraway place, and all they can do is remember and weep.
The Israelites didn't just lose a city. They lost their identity and their belonging. They lost their sense of who they were and, perhaps, where God was.
Maybe we haven't been taken from our homes, but we do know what it's like to feel far from God, far from peace and even far from ourselves. That can be what exile looks like today.
Maybe it's time to ask ourselves, "Where have I been living in exile? What peace have I lost? What part of my life feels far from God?"
The good news is that God brings us back home. Brings us back to faith, back to peace and back to purpose. So, today, look for one way you can move closer to "home."
Joy is deeper than happiness. Happiness can rise and fall with each day. But joy is rooted in the eternalness of God. So, you can be unhappy and still have joy, because true joy doesn't come from you. It comes from God.
And faith teaches us that joy is not dependent on our circumstances. Instead, joy comes from learning to trust in who God is and the promises God makes. That's an important consideration because none of us escapes sorrow or pain in this life. We all face our share of unhappiness and heartbreak. But even in our trials, we still have joy.
That doesn't mean God throws calamity on us. God doesn't play games with our suffering. Testing isn't to fail us, but to form us. Testing doesn't expose your weakness to shame you. It reveals your strength to shape you. And as we let it do so, we learn to persevere. So, perseverance isn't sitting on your hands waiting for a trial to pass. Instead, perseverance is active faithfulness. A spiritual muscle that grows by pressing against resistance.
How we respond to trials is an important reflection point. We often want the product of faith without the process. That's natural. Nobody wakes up asking for suffering. However, maturing in faith doesn't come through shortcuts. It grows as we learn to stay. It grows when you decide to trust God not just for quick miracles but for the long road of faith ahead. We can't always avoid difficulty, but we can trust God through it.
Considering all that, it's important to see that God wants you to get through the trial, whatever it is you're facing. But, even more than that, God wants to make you whole. So, whatever trial you find yourself in, don't just ask God for relief, but for faith to endure, faith to grow and faith to see what's being formed in you. As you do, you'll know the joy God gives.
