Tag: Bible

“The Hypocrisy Hangover – In Search of Authentic Faith.”

Hey Friends,
let’s get real for a minute. This isn’t your feel-good Christianese blog article wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. We’re going deeper today. Let’s think critically together for a moment. We’re talking about that uncomfortable space between what we say we believe and how we’re actually living. Does that make sense? It’s that gray area in between, where no one else is looking. The real you. The one that doesn’t put on a mask and isn’t dressing or looking the part that’s phony or inauthentic.

We throw around words like “grace” and “forgiveness” like they’re hashtags. #Blessed #SoGrateful. But are we really living in the overflow of that grace? Or are we just hoarding it, keeping it locked up in our spiritual bank accounts, afraid to spend it on the messy, imperfect people around us? Silently we judge, and we mentally cast the first stone while ignoring the large boulder in our own hearts. (Okay, it’s getting personal today…sorry/not sorry).

Think about it. We’re quick to judge, quick to point fingers. We build these little kingdoms of “right” and “wrong,” drawing lines in the sand, deciding who’s in and who’s out. And then we wonder why the world looks at us and sees hypocrisy, not hope.

Ouch. That stings, right? But truth hurts sometimes. See, I’m not pointing fingers at you. I’m pointing a finger with you. Because I’m in this boat too. We’re all in this boat. We’re all wrestling with the gap between who we want to be and who we actually are. It’s a continual struggle. And, I want to be honest with you – I’m so tired of fake faith and phony Christianity.

But here’s the good news: God’s not surprised by our mess. He’s not shocked by our struggles. He knows we’re imperfect. That’s the whole point of grace! It’s not about pretending we have it all together. (so take off the mask and stop playing church just to look good) It’s about admitting we don’t have it all worked out, and then leaning into the One who does. It’s about authenticity. It’s about being real. It’s about accepting grace in our messy lives.

So, what’s the answer? It’s not another program, another self-help book, another “7 Steps to Spiritual Superstardom.” It’s simpler than that. It’s about love. Radical, messy, inconvenient love. The kind of love that crosses those lines we’ve drawn in the sand. The kind of love that sees the image of God in everyone, even the people who drive us crazy – even those who didn’t vote like us…(more toe smashing – sorry/not sorry).

It’s about getting off our spiritual high horses and getting down in the dirt with people. It’s about listening more than we talk. It’s about serving more than we’re served. It’s about extending grace even when it feels undeserved (because, let’s be honest, it always is).

This isn’t easy, friends. This is hard stuff. This is the kind of stuff that stretches us, that challenges us, that makes us squirm in our seats. It’s gonna get messy. But it’s also the kind of stuff that changes the world.

So, let’s stop playing church and start being the church. Let’s trade our judgment for grace, our apathy for action, our comfortable Christianity for a faith that’s wild, messy, and real. Let’s bridge the gap between what we believe and how we live. Because the world isn’t waiting for perfect Christians. It’s waiting for people who are willing to love like Jesus.

Let’s go be those people. Alright? Let’s go.
Grace and Peace,
-Scott.

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Do You Really See the Fields?

Hey everyone,

Today I want to talk about a verse that always gets me thinking, John 4:35:

“Don’t you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months till harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.“

Now, on the surface, this is a pretty straightforward instruction from Jesus. He’s basically saying, “Don’t get caught up in the ‘how’ and the ‘when.’ Just look around you and see the opportunity for connection, for love, for the transformation that comes from experiencing God.”

But here’s the thing: what if “the fields” aren’t just about people? What if they’re also about our own lives? What if Jesus is saying, “Look at your own life – your dreams, your passions, your relationships. Are you seeing the potential for harvest? Are you seeing the seeds of joy, of creativity, of love that are ready to bloom?”

We often get so caught up in the “four months” – the timeline, the expectations, the fear of failure – that we miss the abundance right in front of us. We miss the ripe fruit waiting to be gathered. We miss all of the opportunities when we overanalyze or allow fear to hold us captive.

Jesus wasn’t afraid of the harvest. He saw the potential, the beauty, the abundance. He saw the divine in the ordinary.

So, I invite you today to open your eyes and really look at “the fields.” Look at your life. Look at the people around you. Where do you see the potential for harvest? Where do you see the seeds of joy, of love, of transformation ready to burst forth? The fields and the harvest aren’t always “out there” somewhere in some sort of ambiguous place, it’s right here in front of you. So today, look at the harvest. Really see it.

And then, let’s not just see it. Let’s cultivate it. Let’s nurture it. Let’s bring in the harvest.

Grace & Peace,

-Scott.

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The Weight of Religion Vs. The Lightness of Love…

Okay, let’s talk about religion.

Not the big “R” Religion, with its capital letters and booming pronouncements. I’m talking about the “r”eligion that creeps into our hearts and makes us feel superior, judgmental, and utterly disconnected from the very love we’re supposed to be spreading.

You know the type. The folks who wear their faith like a badge of honor, a shield against the messy, unpredictable reality of human life. They quote scripture like a weapon, wielding it to condemn others while conveniently ignoring the parts about grace, mercy, and radical forgiveness. Their messages divide people rather than unite them. I’m sure we’ve heard them a time or three…

This kind of “religion” is a heavy burden, a suffocating weight that crushes the spirit. It turns faith into a rigid set of rules, a checklist of dos and don’ts, rather than a vibrant, life-giving relationship with the Divine. It’s a performance, a desperate attempt to earn God’s approval, to prove our worthiness.

But here’s the thing: God isn’t impressed by our piety. God isn’t concerned with how many times we kneel or how loudly we sing, or how high our rank is in the church we serve. He’s not impressed.

Instead, God is drawn to the broken, the hurting, the ones who stumble and fall. God is drawn to those who recognize their own need for grace, who extend compassion to others, who see the divine spark in every human being.

Jesus, in his radical love, challenged the religious elite of his day. He called them out from their bully pulpits and political platforms. He dined with sinners, healed the outcast, and overturned tables in the temple, disrupting the comfortable order of things. He called us to a life of radical service, to love our enemies, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked. He called us to embody love, not just talk about it. (far too many people just talk about it but are devoid of any kind of action, because it’s easier and far less labor-intensive.)

True faith isn’t about adhering to a set of rules or checking off boxes on a spiritual to-do list. It’s about living a life of love, a life of compassion, a life of radical selflessness. It’s about letting go of our need to be right, to be seen, to be better than others, to control the narrative.

It’s about recognizing our own brokenness, our own need for grace, and extending that same grace to everyone we encounter. In a world full of turmoil, peace is something that’s precious and yet so difficult to find. It’s also about finding joy in serving others, in lifting them up, in walking alongside them on their journey.

So let’s shed the weight of religion, the suffocating weight of rules and judgments. Let’s burn our bully pulpits and our divisive platforms. Instead, let’s embrace the lightness of love, the freedom that comes from living in harmony with the Divine. Let’s choose to be a light in the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world that desperately needs it.

Let’s live out our faith, not as a performance, but as a dance – a joyful, messy, and unpredictable dance of love.
Grace and Peace.
-Pastorsponderings.

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Peace, Trouble, and Courage in the Chaos…

There’s this moment in John 16:33 that I keep coming back to. Jesus’ words echo like they’re meant to vibrate through the centuries, landing in our ears right when we need them most: “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

What a line. It’s like Jesus drops this truth bomb right into the middle of everything. And it’s not fluffy, feel-good talk—he’s telling it like it is. This world, it’s full of trouble. Chaos, pain, uncertainty. You don’t need me to list it out because you already know it, right? It’s the breaking news that scrolls across your screen. It’s the hard conversations you’ve had this week. It’s the weight you’ve felt pressing on your chest when you wonder if you’re going to make it through.

But Jesus doesn’t stop with the trouble. He says, take heart. Which isn’t just a gentle pat on the back. It’s a rallying cry. A declaration. It’s like he’s saying, “Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s heavy. But don’t let that be the end of the story.”

Because here’s the kicker: I have overcome the world.

And you start to feel the weight of those words, don’t you? This isn’t just some vague optimism. It’s Jesus saying, “I’ve faced it all. Every ounce of pain, betrayal, and darkness. And I’ve come out the other side.”

Now, this isn’t a promise that all your troubles will vanish, like some magic trick. It’s not Jesus saying, “Follow me and life will be smooth sailing.” No, it’s deeper than that. It’s a promise that trouble doesn’t get the final word. That the darkness doesn’t win. That whatever you’re facing right now doesn’t have the power to undo the hope and peace that’s found in him.

So, what does it mean for us to take heart? Maybe it’s leaning into the truth that we’re not alone in this. That we’re held by a love that’s stronger than any storm we’re weathering. Maybe it’s a reminder that peace isn’t found in everything going perfectly, but in the presence of the one who’s already conquered the chaos.

Taking heart looks like courage, doesn’t it? But not the kind of courage that pretends everything’s fine. It’s the courage to admit that things are hard and still trust that hope is real. It’s finding peace, not because the world is trouble-free, but because Jesus has overcome the trouble.

And let’s not miss this—“I have overcome the world” is a now-and-not-yet kind of promise. There’s a victory that’s already happened, and there’s a renewal we’re still waiting for. We live in that tension, don’t we? But even in the tension, there’s peace to be found.

So wherever you are today, whatever trouble you’re carrying, hear these words: Take heart. Take heart because you’re not alone. Take heart because the story isn’t over. Take heart because Jesus has overcome, and that changes everything.

May you find courage in the chaos, hope in the heartbreak, and peace in the presence of the one who’s with you every step of the way.

Grace and Peace.
-Pastorsponderings.

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“I Can See Clearly Now: Removing the Cultural Blinders.”

Have you ever wondered how much of what you believe is shaped by the culture around you? How much it is shaped by your childhood, your Sunday School class, that old church lady or man who frowned every time you laughed during a church service? How often do we confuse what we’ve absorbed from our past and surroundings with what God is truly saying? It’s like wearing sunglasses indoors. Everything looks a little darker, and you don’t even realize it until someone asks, “Why are you still wearing those?”

We all wear cultural blinders. They shape how we see God, how we see others, and even how we see ourselves. These blinders aren’t always bad; they’re just there. They’re the stories we’ve been told, the assumptions we’ve never questioned, and the unspoken rules we’ve learned to follow. But what if some of those stories, assumptions, and rules are keeping us from seeing clearly? Why aren’t we asking the right questions? Or even asking questions at all? Why do we just assume that we already know?

The Problem with Cultural Blindness

One of the biggest dangers of cultural blinders is that they limit our vision. Jesus talked about this all the time. Remember when he said, “You have heard it said… but I tell you…” (Matthew 5)? He was challenging the cultural scripts people had internalized—the ones that said, “Love your neighbor and hate your enemy” or “An eye for an eye.”

Jesus wasn’t just tweaking the rules; he was flipping the entire script. He was saying, “The way you’ve been taught to see the world isn’t the way God sees it.” And if we’re honest, we need that same challenge today. Could it be that there’s a script that we’ve blindly accepted that might need to be flipped?

The Filters We Don’t See

Think about the stories our culture tells about success. Bigger, better, faster, more. It’s a narrative that’s so pervasive we barely notice it. And yet, Jesus comes along and says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit… blessed are the meek… blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matthew 5:3-6). He’s inviting us to see success in a completely different way.

Or consider how we’re taught to categorize people. Who’s in, who’s out. Who’s worthy of our time and attention. And then Jesus tells a story about a Samaritan—someone the cultural script labeled as an enemy—and makes him the hero (Luke 10:25-37). Jesus is constantly disrupting our categories, asking us to see people as God sees them. It’s dangerous. It’s counter-cultural. It’s amazing.

Removing the Blinders

So, how do we begin to remove these blinders? It starts with humility. We have to admit that we don’t see the whole picture. As Paul writes, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12). Part of growing in our faith is acknowledging that our vision is incomplete and asking God to help us see more clearly. It can be scary to admit this. It’s daunting to accept change in our preconceived notion of “having it all worked out.” So what needs to change? What is still blinding you from fully seeing?

Here are three practices to help:

  1. Question Your Assumptions Start by asking, “Why do I think this way?” Whether it’s about God, relationships, or the world around you, take the time to examine your beliefs. Are they rooted in Scripture, or are they shaped by cultural norms? Philippians 2:12 reminds that we should “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.” When we begin to question our assumptions we begin to remove the sunglasses that has prevented us from properly seeing.
  2. Listen to Other Voices Sometimes we need to step outside our echo chambers. Read books, listen to sermons, or have conversations with people who see the world differently. It’s amazing how much we can learn when we’re willing to listen. But be brave when you listen. Don’t just embrace the comfortable. Or the things that already speak to your accepted understanding of Church, Others and the Divine. Be prepared to dig deeper and as you listen begin to ask the hard questions.
  3. Ask God for Fresh Eyes Make it a habit to pray, “God, help me see what you see.” This simple prayer can open your heart to new perspectives and reveal the blind spots you didn’t even know you had.

The Freedom of Clear Vision

When we remove the cultural blinders, we start to see the world the way God intended. We see people as made in his image, without bias and rooted understanding. We see success as faithfulness, not achievement. We see love as the highest calling. And most importantly, we see God not as a reflection of our culture, but as the Creator who’s constantly inviting us into something deeper, truer, and more beautiful.

So maybe it’s time to take off the sunglasses. To step into the light. To let God show us what we’ve been missing all along. Because when we see clearly, everything changes.

Grace and Peace.
-Pastorsponderings.

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“Risk, Trust, Multiply: The Kingdom Math of the Talents”

I used the word Math…please don’t leave. Check this out:

The Parable of the Talents is one of those stories Jesus tells that cuts right to the heart of how we live, doesn’t it? You can find it in Matthew 25:14-30. It’s a tale about a man, his servants, and an outrageous amount of money—talents, as they called them back then. But this story isn’t just about economics; it’s about something far more profound.

Let’s dive in.

A wealthy man is going on a journey. Before he leaves, he entrusts his property to his servants. To one, he gives five talents. To another, two talents. And to the last, one talent. Now, a talent was no small thing. It was a unit of currency worth about 20 years of wages for a laborer. Imagine being handed 20, 40, or 100 years’ worth of earnings all at once. Can you feel the weight of that responsibility?

The man’s instructions? Not explicitly stated, but implied: Do something with it.

The first two servants get to work. They invest, trade, create, risk. And they double what they were given. But the third servant? He digs a hole. He buries the talent. He hides it.

When the master returns, there’s a reckoning. The first two servants present their doubled investments, and the master’s response is ecstatic: “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!”

But the third servant? He’s afraid. He tells the master, “I knew you were a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.”

And the master’s response? Not what we might expect from a story that starts with such generosity. The master calls the servant wicked and lazy. He takes the one talent and gives it to the one who has ten. And the servant is cast out, into the darkness.

Whew. Heavy, right? So, what’s going on here?

First, let’s talk about the fear. That third servant? He was so paralyzed by fear—fear of failure, fear of judgment, fear of the master—that he did nothing. And isn’t that what fear does? It locks us up. It convinces us to play small, to play safe, to not risk, to not create, to not step out, not to speak up. Fear whispers, “What if you fail? What if you’re not good enough? What if it all goes wrong?” And so we bury our talents. We hide what we’ve been given. We stop ourselves from speaking up with the grains of wisdom God has given us.

But the other two servants? They get it. They understand that the talents aren’t just resources; they’re opportunities. Opportunities to participate in the work of the master. Opportunities to create something, to build something, to grow something. And sure, there’s risk involved. But there’s also trust. Trust that what they’ve been given is enough. Trust that the master’s joy is found in their faithfulness, not their perfection. It’s never been about being perfect.

This parable invites us to ask some big, uncomfortable questions: What have I been given? What opportunities, resources, gifts, passions, abilities, relationships are in my hands right now? And what am I doing with them? Am I investing them, risking them, using them for something bigger than myself? Or am I burying them, hiding them, letting fear call the shots? This isn’t about inflating our egos, or making us look important, it’s about using what God has entrusted to us. All of it is Gods.

And here’s the twist that we can’t miss: The master’s joy isn’t about the amount returned. It’s about the fact that the servants were faithful with what they had. The first servant had five talents, and the second had two. Different amounts, but the exact same affirmation: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

You see, the parable isn’t about how much you have. It’s about what you do with what you’ve been given. It’s about the courage to show up, to risk, to trust, to invest, to create. It’s about participating in the work of the Kingdom, right here and right now.

So, what if we lived like the first two servants? What if we stepped out of our fear and into faith? What if we trusted that the gifts we’ve been given—no matter how big or small—are enough? What if we stopped burying our talents and started using them to bring light, love, and hope into the world?

Maybe that’s what Jesus is inviting us to in this parable. Not just to see what we’ve been given, but to step into the joy of using it. To risk. To create. To trust. To live fully into the Kingdom work we’ve been called to. And that Kingdom is right here and right now. With us.

Because when we do, we’re not just holding onto what we’ve been given. We’re multiplying it. And that’s where the joy is.

Grace and Peace.
-PastorsPonderings.

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Discovering Grace in Everyday.

Life has this way of pulling us in a thousand directions at once, doesn’t it? There’s the constant hum of obligations, deadlines, and distractions—a never-ending playlist of demands. And in the midst of it all, we can start to feel like we’re losing the plot, like we’re just moving through the motions. I call it “getting lost in the sauce”…

But here’s the thing: even in the chaos, there’s grace.

Grace is not about striving harder or being perfect. It’s about discovering that God is present in every moment—the messy, the mundane, the miraculous. The sacred is right here, in the very fabric of your ordinary day. It’s both ordinary and mysterious all at the same time.

Think about how Jesus lived. He walked dusty roads. He shared meals with fishermen and tax collectors. He paused to notice people—a woman at a well, a man in a tree, children running toward Him. He didn’t rush through life; He moved with intention, always present, always open to the beauty and possibility in the moment.

And maybe that’s the invitation for us. To slow down. To breathe deeply. To notice.

One of my favorite fiction authors, Brandon Sanderson once said, “Enjoy memories, yes, but don’t be a slave to who you wish you once had been. Those memories aren’t alive. You are.”

So my fellow ponderers, notice the laughter of a friend. The warmth of sunlight breaking through your window. The kindness of a stranger. The joy of a child’s giggle. These aren’t just random moments; they’re whispers of grace, reminders that you’re not alone in this. And that you are alive. What a gift this is!

Scripture reminds us, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

Close. Not far off, not out of reach. Close.

What if we lived as though that were true? What if we embraced the idea that God is not only with us in the big, life-altering moments but also in the small, overlooked ones? I call those small things microblessings. They are often overlooked and taken for granted. But God is present within all of it, and with you.

So today, let’s practice looking for the sacred in the ordinary. Let’s believe that grace is woven into the very fabric of our lives, waiting to be noticed, waiting to be embraced. Take notice. Look around you. Breathe deep the blessings and grace of God. It’s there for you to receive.

You are loved. You are held. And you are walking in grace—even now.

Peace to you.

-Pastorsponderings

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Taste and See: The Beauty of Trusting in God.

There’s something magnetic about the way the psalms draw us in, isn’t there? They’re raw, human, unpolished. They take us to the very core of the human experience—joy, pain, fear, gratitude. Today, let’s pause with Psalm 34:

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. … Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.”

Did you catch that? Fear and radiance, shame and goodness—all intertwined. The psalmist isn’t merely saying, “Believe this.” He’s inviting us to experience it, to live it, to feel it deep in our bones.

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me.”

Seeking is active. It’s not passive waiting; it’s stepping into the mystery, bringing our messy, tangled fears before God. When you seek, you’re opening your heart to the possibility that maybe—just maybe—there’s a love big enough to hold you, even in your darkest moments.

And then? Freedom. Deliverance. The kind of peace that makes fear lose its grip.

“Those who look to him are radiant.”

Radiance—it’s not about physical beauty or perfection. It’s about what happens when you live with the weight of shame lifted off your shoulders. It’s the glow of someone who knows they’re deeply loved, fully seen, and completely accepted.

Have you ever noticed how light seems to pour out of people who’ve encountered that kind of love? Their joy isn’t tethered to circumstances; it flows from something deeper, more unshakable.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

This isn’t a theoretical proposition. It’s an invitation to dive in. To taste. To see. To engage all your senses. The psalmist is saying, “Try it. Take the leap. Experience God’s goodness for yourself.”

Think about tasting—really tasting—a piece of ripe fruit. You don’t analyze it from a distance. You bite into it. The sweetness floods your mouth. It’s immediate. Real. That’s the kind of encounter with God the psalmist is talking about.

So, what’s the invitation here?

It’s not to have all the answers. (we certainly don’t) It’s not to tidy up your life or figure out your theology. (it’s still a work in progress) It’s simply to come. To seek. To look. To taste. To take refuge in a God who is good—always good—even when life feels anything but.

What would it look like for you to bring your fears to God today? To trust that he meets you right there, not with condemnation, but with deliverance?

What if you leaned into his goodness—not as a concept, but as a reality you can taste and see and know?

Let’s live this day tasting, seeing, trusting. Because when we do, radiance isn’t just a possibility; it becomes the very rhythm of our lives.

Grace and peace.

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The Prodigal Within: Confronting the Parts of Myself I’d Rather Not See

We all know the story of the prodigal son – that wayward child who demanded his inheritance, squandered it in wild living, and finally came crawling back home to his father’s embrace. The scripture literally says, “when he came to his senses” (Luke 15:17, NIV) It’s a beautiful tale of redemption, one we’ve heard countless times from pulpits and Sunday school classes…and maybe an old flannel-graph or two. But lately, I’ve been wrestling with an uncomfortable truth: the prodigal son isn’t just a character in a parable. He lives within me. There. I’ve said it. (Phew, what a relief).

You see, I’ve spent years pointing fingers at others’ shortcomings while expertly avoiding the mirror. I’ve sat in church pews, Bible balanced perfectly on my lap, nodding along to sermons about transformation while carefully tucking away the parts of myself that needed transforming most. I’ve become a master at seeing the speck in my brother’s eye while ignoring the plank in my own. Can you relate? I sure hope you can. Because I think this shadow-self, this prodigal lives within us all.

But God, in His persistent grace, hasn’t let me stay comfortable in my spiritual blindness. He’s been gently, yet firmly, turning my gaze inward, inviting me to examine those shadowy corners of my heart I’ve worked so hard to ignore. This isn’t just another devotional about self-improvement or a three-step guide to better Christian living. This is my raw, honest journey of confronting the prodigal within – the parts of myself I’d rather pretend don’t exist.

Let me start by confessing something that makes me deeply uncomfortable: I am a master of selective Christianity. I’ve perfected the art of highlighting the verses that make me feel good while skillfully dodging the ones that challenge my comfortable patterns. For years, I’ve chosen to focus on God’s promises of prosperity while conveniently overlooking His calls to die to self. I’ve championed grace for others in public while harboring private judgments that would make the Pharisees proud.

This journey began years ago, on an ordinary Wednesday evening, during what should have been a routine small group meeting. We were discussing the Beatitudes – familiar territory, I thought. But when someone asked, “What does it really mean to be poor in spirit?” I opened my mouth to give my usual polished answer and suddenly stopped short. In that moment, the Holy Spirit held up a mirror, and for the first time, I truly saw myself. Have you had that mirror experience too?

In that moment, I saw the pride masquerading as spiritual wisdom. I saw the selfishness dressed up in religious duty. I saw the fear hiding behind my confident exterior. Like the prodigal son, I hadn’t physically left my Father’s house, but my heart had wandered far from home. I was living in a far country of my own making, feeding on the husks of religious performance while starving for genuine transformation.

This isn’t a story about wallowing in guilt or shame. Rather, it’s about the extraordinary discovery that the same Father who runs to meet the physically prodigal son also races toward those of us who’ve wandered within the walls of the church. It’s about finding that true repentance begins not with outward actions, but with the courage to face ourselves honestly before God.

How honest are we about this prodigal within? When the Holy Spirit lifts that mirror before us what do we see and what do we intentionally ignore?

Confronting our Prodigal Self
When we confront instead of flee, true growth begins to take root within us. Only when we begin to accept that which we have long ignored will we truly experience freedom from the slavery of self. It’s liberating. You should try it sometime…there I go again judging you when I still have work to do.

Something more to ponder today.
Questions to consider:
1) What is preventing you right now from confronting your prodigal self (your shadow-self)?
2) What is the Holy Spirit saying to you?
3) How can you intentionally accept God’s honest, yet loving assessment of you?
Being vulnerable before God is hard. What can you do to set aside five minutes today to just sit before that mirror? Don’t flinch, just sit and listen. He desires to clothe you and throw a party for his child who was once lost but is now found.
(Repeat again tomorrow).

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4 Wrong Ways To Read The Bible (And you may not know you’re doing it)

Let’s first admit that the Bible is an important source of help and guidance in our lives.  We need the kind of Bible-readinghope and helps that the Bible can offer to us…but there are ways in which people can misinterpret and mistreat the bible.  Today I would like to outline just four ways that this can happen, and I know you will relate in some way…so here goes:

4 Wrong Ways To Read The Bible (And you may not know you’re doing it).

  1.  8The Magic 8 Ball Bible Reader…
    “Dear Magic 8 Ball, if He or She is the right one for me please let me know…”  Can I be honest, I have used the Bible from time to time in this manner.  We use many of these narratives, poetry, wise sayings to help us decide what to do in this life.  First of all, I don’t miscount that the Holy Spirit can use certain passages to help us, but if all that we do is put our fingers on random passages and BELIEVE that it’s my fortune or some sort of Divine answer, I think we’re way off base.  The Bible isn’t some sort of magic 8 ball that helps us find our soul mate or win the lottery or find the right car…so perhaps we ought to stop treating it like that.
  2. The “I’m right, you’re wrong and I’m going to prove it” Bible Reader…debate
    Have you ever gotten into religious debates with people?  It could have happened at a coffee shop, in school, or on a social media site.  The next thing you know you’re both sparring over who is right and who is wrong.  So you reach for your Bible so you can shoot them down and prove that you’re right and get the final word in…(and score a major victory on your religious debaters score card in heaven).  If the reason we use the Bible is to prove others wrong all of the time, I fear we are mistreating the bible once again.  Don’t mistake “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope…” (1 Peter 3:15) passage for being the same thing as using the Bible to club someone over the head and proving how right you are.  Stop using the Bible as your weapon to prove others wrong, it’s just not helping to reach people for Jesus.
  3. abbyThe “Dear Abby” Bible Reader…
    Sorry Dear Abby and Ann Landers fans.  Even though the Bible contains many life lessons from other people in history as well as books of wisdom, the Bible is not an advice column.  It will not always have an answer for every life problem you will encounter.  That isn’t to say that the Holy Spirit can’t guide and direct you, it just means that the Bible may not have a specific answer that you’re looking on a given subject.    Similarly to the “Magic 8 Ball” reader, the scriptures of these various books put together over a thousand year or two may not always contain some magical advice for someone living in our era.  In a broader aspect of course there are many, many teachable moral principles that we can draw from reading the Bible, but make sure it is read in context with the surrounding history and verses.
  4. The “Out Of Obligation” Bible Reader…forced-marriage
    The last wrong way we can sometimes read the bible is out of some sort of forced obligation.  We grudgingly reach for our bibles and we paw through the “required” reading for the day and then get on with life.  Although we read the obligatory passages we haven’t REALLY read them nor applied them to our every day living.  The “Out of Obligation” Bible reader tends to read the Bible like a homework assignment…from a class they don’t like and have little to no passion for it.  If we read the bible simply because we feel obligated to, the passion and love of the bible will not be present.  This “wrong way” of bible reading will not help us grow (most of the time) it will only make us feel like we are forced to do it, and we might end up feeling as if none of this was ours in the first place.

Read the Bible.
bible1I’m not saying don’t read it, just make sure that you’re reading it for the right reasons.
Be careful not to treat it as something that it’s not, nor ever intended to be.
Pray.
Ask God to help you in this.
Connect. 
Get connected with a Bible study group (with the same mindset as you) who can challenge you, help you and hold you accountable.

Something more to ponder today…here’s to reading the Bible appropriately and with the right motives and intentions!

NOW IT’S YOUR TURN:
What do YOU think?  Comment below and leave me some feedback on this subject.
Join the conversation!

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