Tag: prayer

Pouring Out, Lifting Up

(1 Samuel 1–2)

There’s a quiet power in Hannah’s story—one that speaks directly to anyone who has ever carried a burden silently, prayed a prayer desperately, or waited on God faithfully.

Hannah enters the narrative not with triumph but with tears. Year after year she bore the weight of unanswered longing. Yet what sets her apart isn’t simply her suffering, but her response. Scripture tells us that Hannah “stood up” (1 Sam. 1:9). That small, simple phrase marks a turning point. She rose from her place of discouragement and poured out her soul before the Lord with unguarded honesty.

No scripted prayer.
No polished language.
Just a heart laid bare before the God who listens.

And He did listen.

Hannah’s story reminds us that God is not moved by our performance—He is moved by our surrender. What she offered Him in tears, He returned in joy. What she released in prayer, He redeemed in His timing.

Then comes her song in 1 Samuel 2—bold, prophetic, overflowing with praise. Her voice, once choked with grief, becomes a testimony of God’s power to reverse circumstances:
“The Lord raises the poor from the dust… He lifts the needy from the ash heap.”

This is the rhythm of Hannah’s life, and often the rhythm of ours:
What we pour out before God, He is able to lift up in His grace.

For pastors, ministry leaders, and everyday believers, Hannah invites us into three timeless truths:

1. Honest prayer is holy prayer.
God meets us not in the prayers we think He wants, but in the ones that come from the unfiltered places of our hearts.

2. Waiting is not wasted.
Hannah didn’t see God’s silence as God’s absence. She stayed faithful, and God was quietly at work.

3. Worship is our witness.
Hannah’s song isn’t just gratitude—it’s testimony. It points beyond her blessing to the character of God Himself.

Perhaps today you’re carrying something heavy…
a decision, a fear, a disappointment, a prayer that feels unanswered.

Hannah’s story whispers to us:

“Stand up. Come before Him. Pour it out. God still lifts up what is surrendered to Him.”

May we learn from her courage to pray honestly, her faith to trust patiently, and her joy to praise boldly—believing that the God who lifted Hannah’s head is the same God who lifts ours.

Grace & Peace,
-Scott.

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In the Garden: Wrestling, Trusting, and Breaking Open


Text: Matthew 26:36-46

Hey friends,
Welcome back to Pastor’s Ponderings. It’s Pastor Scott here, and today I want to sit with you in a story that feels like it holds the weight of the world. Matthew 26:36-46—the Garden of Gethsemane. This is Jesus at his most human, wrestling with fear and sorrow, yet leaning into trust. If you’ve ever faced a moment where life felt too heavy, where you wondered if you could keep going, this one’s for you. Let’s step into the garden together.

It’s nighttime. The air smells of olive trees, their leaves whispering in the quiet. Jesus and his disciples enter Gethsemane—a name that means “oil press,” a place where olives are crushed to release their oil. Before a single word is spoken, the setting tells us something: this is a place of pressure, of breaking open.

Jesus tells most of his followers to stay put, but he brings Peter, James, and John closer. Then, something shifts. The text says he “began to be sorrowful and troubled.” The Greek words here don’t mess around—they mean deep grief, overwhelming distress. Jesus, the one who’s walked on water and fed thousands, is coming undone. He tells his friends, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.”

Let that sink in. Jesus is saying, “I’m so sad, I could die.” This isn’t a distant, untouchable Savior. This is Jesus feeling the full weight of what’s coming—the betrayal, the cross, the pain. If you’ve ever been in a place where fear or grief felt like it might swallow you, you’re not alone. Jesus has been there too.

And what does he do? He doesn’t hide it. He asks his friends to stay close, to “keep watch” with him. It’s such a vulnerable request. He’s not asking them to fix it or fight for him—just to be there. Isn’t that what we all crave in our hardest moments? Someone to sit with us, to hold space for our pain?

Jesus moves a little further and falls to the ground, praying, “Father, if it’s possible, let this cup pass from me.” The “cup” in scripture often means suffering, the hard stuff you have to drink down. Jesus knows what’s ahead, and he’s honest: he doesn’t want it. He’s asking for another way.

But then, in the same breath, he says, “Yet not my will, but yours be done.” That’s the heart of it—raw honesty paired with trust. He’s not pretending he’s okay with the cross. He’s wrestling, pleading, but choosing to trust God’s bigger story. Have you ever prayed a prayer like that? “God, I don’t want this, but I trust you.” It’s not neat or easy. It’s a struggle, a surrender.

Meanwhile, the disciples are… asleep. Jesus comes back and finds them dozing. “Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour?” he asks Peter. There’s a hint of frustration, but I hear sadness too. Jesus is carrying the weight of the world, and his closest friends can’t even stay awake. It’s so human, isn’t it? We let each other down, even with the best intentions. Yet Jesus doesn’t give up on them. He keeps them close.

He prays two more times, each prayer echoing the first: “If this cup can’t pass, your will be done.” Each time, he leans deeper into trust. By the third prayer, something has shifted. He rises, steady—not because the fear is gone, but because he’s given it over. He wakes his disciples and says, “Rise, let’s go. My betrayer is here.” The story barrels forward—Judas, the soldiers, the arrest—but Jesus is ready. The garden has done its work. He’s been pressed, and what flows out is trust.

So what does this mean for us? I see three invitations here.

First, it’s okay to feel the weight. Jesus did. Your fear, your sorrow, your “I can’t do this” moments—they’re not a sign of weak faith. They’re part of being human. Jesus shows us we can bring those raw emotions to God, no filter needed.

Second, community matters, even when it’s messy. The disciples fall asleep, but Jesus still wants them near. Who’s in your garden? Who are you showing up for? Even imperfect presence can be a gift.

Finally, there’s this mystery of surrender. “Not my will, but yours.” It’s not about denying what you feel or giving up what you want. It’s about trusting that God’s story is bigger, even when you can’t see it. In the crushing, something new is released—like oil from an olive, like life from a cross.

So, my friends, where’s your Gethsemane right now? What’s pressing you? What might happen if you brought it to God, honest and open? The garden isn’t the end of the story. It’s where everything breaks open, where trust takes root, where resurrection begins to stir.

Keep pondering, keep trusting, keep walking. I’m right here with you.

Grace and peace,
Pastor Scott

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The Peace That Doesn’t Make Sense

https://creators.spotify.com/pod/profile/scott-strissel8/episodes/Peace-That-Doesnt-Make-Sense-e319ni1?fbclid=IwY2xjawJjXMZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHp4ZVWk22DHhhd2tsSnnp1Pamtc0Xc97fBsyrBCJQjpQozlteUvk6g3nHH_7_aem_58zurbjMlyFOnm031KlYUQ

Hey, friends. Welcome back to Pastor’s Ponderings. This is where we sit together with the big questions, the quiet moments, and those ancient words that still rattle and hum with something alive. Today, I want to pull us into a little corner of Philippians—chapter 4, verses 6 and 7. Ready? Let’s step in.

Imagine this: Paul’s in a jail cell. Not some cozy retreat with Wi-Fi and a view—Roman jail. Chains on his wrists, damp stone walls, the kind of place where hope feels like it’s flickering out. And yet, there he is, scratching out these words: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Wild, right? How does a guy in chains write something that feels so… free?

Let’s linger on that first line: “Do not be anxious about anything.” Okay, Paul. Sure. You’re not doom-scrolling X at 2 a.m., watching the world tear itself apart. You’re not staring down a pile of bills or replaying that awkward thing you said three weeks ago that still stings. Anxiety’s this low hum we all carry, isn’t it? It’s the static of being human. And here’s Paul, tossing out this line like it’s no big deal. Don’t be anxious. About anything.

But what if he’s not pointing a finger here? What if this isn’t some guilt trip—“Oh, you’re anxious? Bad Christian!”—but an invitation? What if he’s whispering, “Hey, there’s another way to live”? Because anxiety—it’s heavy. It’s this invisible backpack stuffed with rocks, and we don’t even realize how much it’s crushing us until someone says, “You don’t have to carry that.”

And then he shifts: “But in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” Every situation. Not just the shiny wins or the polished Sunday moments—the messy ones too. The 3 a.m. panic spirals. The “I don’t know if I can keep going” whispers. Every single one. Bring it to God, he says—with thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving? In that? That’s the twist, isn’t it? “Thanks, God, for the chaos? For the uncertainty?” But maybe it’s not about faking it. Maybe it’s about hunting for something—anything—that reminds you you’re not alone. The breath still moving in your chest. That friend who texted right when you needed it. The way sunlight spills through the trees outside your window. Tiny threads of gratitude that tether you when the waves hit.

And here’s where it lands: “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Peace. Not the “everything’s fine” kind—Paul’s still in jail, after all—but something deeper. Something that doesn’t add up. It’s not logical; it transcends understanding, which is just a poetic way of saying it’s too big for our heads to hold.

I love that word, “guard.” Picture it—a sentinel standing watch. Your heart, your mind—they’re these tender, untamed places, and life comes at them with fists. But this peace? It’s there, pacing the walls, keeping vigil, so you can breathe.

So here’s what I’m chewing on: What if this isn’t just a verse to frame on the wall? What if it’s a rhythm we could step into? You’re anxious—fair enough, that’s real. But instead of letting it steer, you pause. You breathe. You pray—no filter, just whatever’s on your heart. You find one thing to say “thank you” for, even if it’s small. And then… you wait. You see if this peace slips in. Not because you’ve earned it, but because it’s a gift. A gift from a God who doesn’t flinch at your mess.

Philippians 4:6-7 isn’t a magic wand. It’s not a formula. It’s an experiment. Paul’s scribbling it from his cell, saying, “Try it. See what happens.” So maybe today, we do. We name the anxiety, we bring it to God, we whisper thanks for something—anything. And we watch. We see if that peace shows up, quiet and steady, standing guard.

What do you think? Worth a try?

Thanks for sitting with me here at Pastor’s Ponderings. Keep asking the questions, keep chasing the mystery, and if you have questions you would like us to ponder together, please leave a comment and let me know!

I’ll see you in the next one.
Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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Whispers to the Infinite: Unlocking the Dance of Prayer

(Check out the Spotify Audio Version of this Pondering Here)

Hey friends, you ever think about how wild it is that we get to talk to God? Like, the Creator of everything — spinning galaxies and the whispering winds, the One who dreamed up the taste of rain and the sound of laughter—that God leans in close and says, “Yeah, tell me what’s on your mind.” It’s not a monologue, you know? It’s not us shouting into the void, hoping the echo comes back with a nod. It’s a conversation. A back-and-forth. A dance of words and silence.

I mean, think about it—communication is this holy thread woven into everything. The way a sunrise speaks without saying a thing, the way a friend’s eyes can tell you they’re hurting before their mouth catches up. And prayer? Prayer’s like that. It’s not just words strung together, all polished and proper. It’s the raw stuff—your fears, your dreams, the ache you can’t name. It’s you showing up, messy and real, and God meeting you there, not with a clipboard and a checklist, but with a heartbeat that says, “I’m listening.”

Jesus, he got this. He’d slip away to the hills, not to perform some religious script, but to breathe, to talk, to listen. He’d say things like, “Ask, and it’ll be given. Seek, and you’ll find.” Not because it’s a vending machine deal—insert prayer, get prize—but because it’s about relationship. It’s about trust. It’s about daring to open your mouth and let the honest stuff spill out, knowing the One on the other end isn’t rolling His eyes or tapping His foot.

So what if we tried that today? What if we stopped treating prayer like a memo to the boss and started seeing it as a late-night chat with the best friend who never sleeps? What if we said, “God, here’s what’s heavy, here’s what’s beautiful, here’s where I’m stuck,” and then—here’s the kicker—we paused? We let the silence sit. We listened for that still, small voice that doesn’t always sound like we expect.

Because communication with God isn’t about getting it right. It’s about showing up. It’s about letting the words—or the lack of them—carry you closer to the One who’s been speaking your name since before you took your first breath. What would happen if we leaned into that? If we let prayer be less about saying the perfect thing and more about being fully, wildly, wonderfully heard?

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“Keep Building Yourself Up!”

Life has a way of throwing challenges at us that can leave us feeling drained, discouraged, or even a little lost. In those moments, we need something solid to hold onto—a reminder of where our strength comes from and how to keep going. That’s exactly what we find in Jude 1:20-21, a short but powerful passage that offers a blueprint for staying encouraged and rooted in faith.

The verses say: “But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.” (NIV) Let’s unpack this a little and see how it can lift us up today.

Build Yourself Up

Jude starts with an action: “building yourselves up in your most holy faith.” Think about that for a second. Faith isn’t a one-and-done thing—it’s a living, growing structure that we get to keep working on. It’s like adding bricks to a house, layer by layer. Every time we choose to trust God, every time we lean into His promises, we’re strengthening that foundation.

So how do we do that practically? It could be as simple as reading Scripture and letting it sink in, or reflecting on the ways God’s been faithful in the past. It’s not about having all the answers or feeling unshakable every day—it’s about showing up, even in small ways, and trusting that God’s at work in the process. You’re not alone in this construction project; you’re building with the best materials Heaven has to offer.

Pray in the Spirit

Next, Jude tells us to “pray in the Holy Spirit.” Prayer isn’t just a wishlist we hand over to God—it’s a conversation, a connection, a lifeline. When we pray in the Spirit, we’re inviting God’s presence to guide us, to speak to us, to fill us with peace that doesn’t make sense in the middle of chaos. It’s like tuning into a frequency where we can hear His voice more clearly.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, try this: take a deep breath, ask the Holy Spirit to help you pray, and just start talking—or even sit quietly. You don’t need fancy words. God hears the groans of your heart just as loudly as your spoken requests. That kind of prayer keeps us anchored, no matter what’s swirling around us.

Stay in God’s Love

Then comes the heart of it: “keep yourselves in God’s love.” This isn’t about earning God’s love—He’s already given it freely. It’s about staying in that sweet spot where you’re aware of it, resting in it, letting it shape how you see yourself and the world. It’s easy to drift away when life gets tough, to let doubt or fear take the wheel. But Jude’s saying, “No, stay here. This is where you belong.”

Picture it like sitting by a warm fire on a cold night. You don’t have to make the fire burn; you just have to stay close enough to feel its warmth. God’s love is that fire—constant, steady, and always there for you to draw near to.

Wait with Hope

Finally, Jude points us forward: “as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.” Waiting can feel like the hardest part, especially when we’re longing for answers or relief. But this isn’t a passive, hopeless waiting—it’s active, expectant, full of anticipation. We’re waiting for mercy, for Jesus, for the promise of eternal life that puts every temporary struggle in perspective.

That’s the ultimate encouragement: what’s ahead is so much bigger than what’s behind or even what’s right now. You’re not just surviving; you’re headed somewhere glorious, and Jesus is the one leading you there.

You’ve Got This

So, dear friend, wherever you are today, take heart. Build yourself up in faith, one small step at a time. Pray—messy, honest prayers—and let the Holy Spirit carry you. Stay wrapped in God’s love, because it’s yours to keep. And wait with hope, knowing that mercy is coming, and it’s bringing eternal life with it.

You’re not alone in this. God’s right there, cheering you on, ready to help you add another brick to that beautiful faith you’re building. Keep going—you’ve got this, because He’s got you.

Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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What is Faith? -Embracing the Mystery

Okay, friends, let’s talk about faith. Not the Sunday School, paint-by-numbers kind, or the cool flannel-graphs (I loved those) but the real, gritty, gut-level stuff.

We’re diving into Hebrews 11, verses 1 through 3, and I gotta tell you, these verses? They’re fire (more cringe eye-rolling from my kids).

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
Boom. Right out of the gate. Confidence. Assurance.

These aren’t just warm fuzzies, they’re verbs. They’re active. Faith isn’t passive, it’s a muscle. It’s something you do. It’s leaning into the unknown, believing in the unseen.  

Think about it. How much of your life is based on things you haven’t seen? Love? Hope? Justice? You can’t hold them in your hand, weigh them on a scale, but they’re real, aren’t they? More real, sometimes, than the chair you’re sitting in.

That’s faith.

It’s the deep-down knowing that there’s more to this story than what we can see with our eyeballs.

The writer of Hebrews goes on: “This is what the ancients were commended for.” Whoa. Think about that for a second. Abraham, Sarah, Moses, all those folks we read about in the Old Testament – their faith wasn’t some abstract concept. It was how they lived. It was the engine of their lives. It propelled them forward, even when things looked absolutely insane. They were commended, not for having all the answers, but for daring to trust in the questions.

And then, the kicker: “By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what was seen was not made out of what was visible.” Mind. Blown. This is huge.

The writer is saying that the very fabric of reality, the cosmos itself, came into being not from something we can see, but from something…else. Something beyond our comprehension. Something…divine.  

Think about that. Everything you see, everything you touch, everything you experience – it all originates from something invisible. Something beyond our grasp. That’s faith, right there. It’s acknowledging the mystery, the vastness, the sheer wonder of it all. It’s admitting that we don’t have all the answers, and maybe, just maybe, that’s okay. Maybe won’t don’t just stop at acknowledging this mystery, but we move closer and closer to embracing it as well.

So, what does this mean for us, today? Well, maybe it means we can stop trying to control everything. Maybe it means we can relax a little bit into the mystery – lean into it. Maybe it means we can start to trust that even when we can’t see the path ahead, there’s something there. Something good. Something beautiful. Something…more.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to embrace the unseen. To lean into the questions. To have faith. Not because we have all the answers (because we don’t), but because we trust that there’s a story being written, a story much bigger than ourselves.
And maybe, just maybe, we’re a part of it.

Grace and Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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When Faith Flickers – Finding God in the Shadows of Doubt.

After the death of a loved one, I felt lost. The prayers we had all prayed seemed to have been for nothing. I felt as if God were distant from me, and if I’m being honest, I was angry at Him for not answering my prayers when I needed Him most. I resented Him, and I felt my faith fading away. It wasn’t gone entirely, but I found myself questioning the rhythms and routines of my faith journey. Had I grown too comfortable? Is there more to faith than this? Am I doing it all wrong?

I have discovered that faith, like most things, can wane from time to time. I do not think it’s wrong to express moments of doubt. Because doubt, like shadows, can often cast its long amorphous tendrils over the spaces once illuminated by trust and assurance…but the light is still there.

Time, you see, though a human construct, can separate us from that path, and we begin to forget. What do we forget, you may ask? We forget the fulfillment of God’s promises. We lose sight of the many times we felt His presence with us, and instead we only recall the times when our prayers seemed to go unanswered. Time has a way of allowing those shadows to grow in us. And then our grip is loosened, and our resolve erodes. Often times when this happens, we berate ourselves because we lack faith. Inwardly we cower at the thought that others might discover our shortcomings. Why are we afraid to be vulnerable around other Christ-followers? Do we not realize that they struggle with their faith and doubt too? We often fail to acknowledge that they are also imperfect and just as vulnerable. And yet, oftentimes, our first inclination is to worry about what others might think of our struggles instead of sharing them. Could it be that when we share, we commiserate and encourage others? Instead of sharing, our first instinct is to hide and pretend to be something we are not – perfect. Here’s a confession for you: I am so tired of pretending to be perfect. I despise the masks that we force ourselves to wear. I hate the Christianese jargon that we spout when all of it is shallow and signifies nothing but words that fail to penetrate our hearts.

Can I be real for just a second? I fear that 90% of our offerings to God (worship services, the words we say, catch phrases and platitudes) are performed for the benefit of others and not God…and the flickering flame of our faith continues to dim, and we wonder why.

When Faith Flickers – Ask the Hard Questions.

I think it’s safe to say that God is not threatened by our questions; instead, He invites them as pathways to deeper faith and understanding. When we ask the tough questions it creates authenticity and, believe it or not, it deepens our relationship with Him. We no longer have to placate or utter words that have become routine and ritualistic. Instead, we begin to actually battle with the tangible problems of life. Many times, we tend to avoid the hard questions because they could cause doubt; but in reality, asking the tough questions brings perspective, and in so doing, our faith becomes resilient having been forged in deeper roots.

Don’t Be Afraid of Authenticity.

So throw off the mask, the false pretenses, the Christianese jargon, the constant worry about what others might think because you aren’t acting or dressing the part of what Church is “supposed” to look like. Here’s a newsflash – You are the church. It’s you. It’s been you all this time. God wants YOU to be real and honest with Him about your faith. He doesn’t need any more empty talk that placates but is void of action and credibility. It’s okay to doubt. It’s okay to ask the hard questions, especially when faith begins to flicker. It may seem that the shadows are growing darker around you, but embrace the path that you’re currently on. There’s something to be learned from it all. And when you begin to tackle the daunting, the seemingly insurmountable, and you face the thing you fear the most – you will discover God has never left you. He’s right there with you.

When your faith flickers, and the shadows of doubt may seem overwhelming, but remember that God is not distant or disinterested. He is present in your questions, your fears, and your struggles. Doubt doesn’t disqualify you from His love; it invites you into deeper dependence on Him.

God’s light shines brightest in the darkest moments, guiding you through uncertainty with His truth and grace. Like a steady flame, His faithfulness remains unwavering, even when your faith feels weak. Lean into Him, trusting that He will meet you in the shadows, rekindle your hope, and lead you into a deeper, more resilient faith.

When you walk with God, even flickering faith becomes the foundation for a stronger, enduring trust in His unchanging character and promises.

-Something more to ponder today.

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Finding What We Seek…

“One thing I ask from the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.” -Psalm 27:4

There is the old testament story about a woman named Hannah.
Hannah did not have any children of her own and she desperately wanted a child. So after one of the Jewish celebrations, Hannah goes to the temple and fervently prays to God to give her a child. She prays and weeps and is in deep anguish over this heartfelt need to be a mother. As she is praying and weeping, the priest Eli sees Hannah there, and he thinks she is drunk because her lips are moving but no words are coming out. So Eli goes and confronts her and even tells her to throw away her wine.

Imagine that for a second, this woman is crying out to God in one of her lowest moments and she can’t even catch a break without having Eli confront her in judgement. Hannah doesn’t lash out though, she just tells the priest why she is there and that she is not drunk. Hannah outlines her heartache and even says “I am very discouraged and I am pouring out my heart to the Lord.” (NLT translation).
The priest responds by saying, “May the God of Israel grant you the request that you asked of Him.”

Scriptures then tell us that Hannah goes home and is at peace and starts eating AGAIN. Let’s stop for a minute and recognize that in Hannah’s distress she had stopped eating and was so discouraged in her heart.

Have you ever been there?
Have you ever been so heavily burdened that you lose all appetite and thoughts of self-care?

One such moment comes to my mind in my life. My Wife had just tragically lost her mother in a horrible accident and for the next couple of days in the midst of our mourning we couldn’t eat and we barely slept. It was gut wrenching sadness and heartbreaking pain. Scripture tells us that there is a time for everything (Ecclesiastes 3)…and in our lives, most of us have experienced those times of mourning. I believe Hannah felt a certain kind of mourning in her life as well and that is why we are made to understand in 1 Samuel 1:9-28 that Hannah was not eating…or probably sleeping. Her heart was so heavy and burdened with this deep longing and sadness for a child.

In the Seeking – We Find.
Hannah sought out God in this dark moment of her life.
She knelt before God and didn’t care if anyone else was watching, and as she poured out her heart to God, and He was there listening.

Praying for Women to Hunger for God · TWR Women Of Hope


It had nothing to do with a priest answering Hannah’s pleas…although Eli certainly did that. There wasn’t some sort of mystical words that Eli spoke that eased her heart. Rather, it was Hannah’s faith in the God that she prayed to that allowed her to find peace again. There was a certainty that filled that place where her mourning had been. Faith blossomed while her mourning decayed and faded away.

There is a truth of us in this.
David certainly found it when he wrote this:
“One thing I ask from the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.” -Psalm 27:4

When we seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, ALL these things will be given to us (Matthew 6:33). But it starts with our seeking.
Are we willing to search God and know Him? To truly know Him?! Not know of Him. Or about Him. But to truly KNOW Him?

What does it look like in our modern day to “dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life”? Let me give you a hint: it’s not just about going to church, but that’s a great start. It is about allowing God to dwell in your life every moment of every day. To literally breathe Him in and out in your actions, thoughts and words. So much so that your old self-induced life fades away to be replaced with a self-less holy one that reflects Christ completely.

Then, when we are heavy burdened, when we face daunting days of uncertainty (that can seem be insurmountable at times) we can seek God. We can know Him, and we can get up from our places of prayer and be rejuvenated in life by His spiritual nourishment, provision and love.

Questions to Ponder today:
What is currently weighing on your heart?
Have you prayed about these things to God?
These prayers can be spoken out loud or silently. They can be written down or thought in your mind as you go about your day. But one thing that truly helps is that you verbalize your burdens to the Lord. Even though He already knows them, speak them to Him.
Lastly do you trust that God is not only listening to your prayers, but that He is in your life and is a participant in it?

May we find what we seek today…and may we be seeking God as well purposely strive to dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

-Amen.

Something more for us to ponder today.
To God be the glory.

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In Order To Truly Love, We need this….

“In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:” -Philippians‬ ‭2:5‬ ‭

Do you remember the golden rule?
Perhaps your parents taught you this principle of treating others the way that you want to be treated.

So how’s it going with that?
Especially when someone pushes all your buttons?
When someone cuts you off in traffic.
When someone talks down to you in a condescending way…

Then this golden rule becomes so much harder doesn’t it?
It is much, much easier to treat people nicely when they treat you nicely, but when they don’t all bets are off.

Let’s add other believers to this…
Isn’t it interesting that sometimes the hardest people to love…(now get this) – are other Christians. Why is that? Aren’t we working for the same cause? Aren’t we all loving Jesus? So why is it so hard to love other Christ-followers sometimes? Could it be that we all have some sort of idea how to best serve Jesus and if some other believe has a different view then watch out. You see, we sometimes think that our way of worshipping or serving Jesus is the only way and so we protect that methodology to the point that it (not Christ) becomes sacred. And so we fight tooth and nail for our method of service and worship instead of coming together in unity and working in our diverse worship and adoration of Jesus.

How do we change our mindset?
Could it be that the walls that need to come down in our churches and in our Christian world view has to do more with the battle of our minds and preconceived notions of what honors God in our practices? Could it be any more simple that this: That we simply love…others…with no “ifs” “ands” or “buts” involved? What would the Church look like if Christians lived and loved out Philippians 2:5 in the real world?

What is the mindset of Christ?

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John‬ ‭15:13‬ ‭‬

Jesus’ love and mindset was to disciple those around Him and He was willing, more than willing to lay down His life for those He called friend. And He calls all those who would seek Him – ‘Friend’.

Does our love for others resemble Christ’s love? Christ’s mindset?
Do we take this ‘golden rule’ to the next level in our relationships with those around us?

The Cold Hard Truth:
There will be those Christians we may not agree with.
We might find that our personalities, hobbies, likes and dislikes are vastly different…BUT…can we love them and have the same mindset as that of Christ. Can we love them regardless, or in spite of all of that? What we might find is that in the process of seeking the very mindset of Christ, in our every day life – we are given the very heart and love of Christ to love them more deeply and more genuinely.

May our relationships and the way we love others be the very mindset as that of Christ’s.

Something more to ponder today.
Blessings on you today!

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The Problem With Submission…

“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you.” -James 4:7-8

I have a tough time with one word in this passage.
It has nothing to do with God, faith or salvation…it has everything to do with how this word is used in the world, sometimes maliciously, in order to put people in their place.

What is the word?

“Submit”.

I don’t do well with submission.
Honestly, it makes me feel like a prisoner having to obey the warden. (Images of Shawshank Redemption come to mind)…

Perhaps it is because I have personally witnessed that word being used and abused.
Perhaps it is because I struggle with my own need for freedom.
Regardless of the why, there is still the issue with the how…how do I submit…and the ‘who’ – who am I to submit to?

For some of us it is the trust involved in such an act.
Questions like, “what if my trust is betrayed”, and “can I really trust them”?
Many time it isn’t even about submitting to God, but rather authority figures in our own lives; Bosses, business advisors, managers, family members…etc. Then, when we have been burned by submitting to a faulty human-led system, we transplant this disappointment and disillusionment upon God…as if He too is imperfect and will let us down.

I too have struggled with this notion, meanwhile transplanting my own mortal experience upon an immortal God. But have I short changed God when I’ve done this? Do I still struggle with these trust issues? Can I fully submit to God in spite of my past hurts and the numerous failed dumpster fires of attempted human submission?

Maybe I’m overthinking this…have you ever done that?
I’ve counted all of the variables, outcomes, pros and cons way before ever taking a step. My 1st Grade Teacher’s voice keeps ringing in my ear as she said, “look before you leap.” But maybe in this case, it’s the other way round?! Perhaps I just have to go for it and place my all before God when I do.

In James 4:7-8, perhaps it’s more about coming near to God than it is about submitting to Him…because wouldn’t we naturally do that anyway when we really, really know someone? After all, didn’t God come close to us first when He sent Jesus into this messed up world? He met us more than halfway as He hung on a cross for our sins.

You see, I know all of the theological implications of such an act. I know Jesus intellectually, but are there still times when my heart does not know Him…when I’m not near to God, in fact, I couldn’t be further from Him? Have you ever felt like that? We have all of the head knowledge, but when it really comes down to it, there’s a heart issue that still needs working out.

If you’re anything like me, perhaps you’re still trying to reconcile what submission looks like with God. I’ve been on this journey for quite some time, and I feel that the Holy Spirit has led me this far, I’m going to have trust Him in the things I have yet to figure out. He hasn’t given up on me, and I’m positive He certainly hasn’t given up on you either. Perhaps it’s not so much submission that He’s after, but rather a closer relationship with us. After all, doesn’t submission come from a place of trust? I cannot submit to something I don’t trust, and I cannot trust if I don’t come close enough to God.

The trouble with submission is we aren’t close enough to a God who desires a relationship with us…and I’m still working through this. I don’t have a Mary Poppins answer for you, just a notion and a nudge to deepen your relationship with the Almighty…we just might discover that is what was needed all along.

-Something more to ponder today.

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