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Speak through Him, Valencia (2026)

18/08/2026

A simple home.
A simple meal.
Very few possessions.

And yet, there is food being shared.
There is a family sitting together.
There is still something on the table.

And that makes me think about how easily we measure God's blessings by how much we have.

More money.
More comfort.
More security.
More than enough.

But sometimes, God's faithfulness meets us in a very different place.

𝗜𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲.

I am not saying that poverty is a blessing.
It isn't.

Lack is hard.

Not knowing how you will pay the next bill is hard.

Watching your income disappear into necessities is hard.

Having to make difficult choices because there simply isn't enough is hard.

We don't have to romanticize hardship to recognize God's faithfulness in the middle of it.

Because sometimes, the blessing isn't that we suddenly have plenty.

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲.

Think about the widow of Zarephath in 1 Kings 17.

She wasn't living in abundance.

She had only a little flour and oil left.
Enough, she thought, for one final meal.

Yet God met her there.

The miracle wasn't that she suddenly became wealthy.

The miracle was that what looked like the end was not the end.
God sustained her.

And sometimes, His provision looks like that in our own lives.

A paycheck that seemed too small somehow carries us farther than expected.

A phone call comes at just the right time.

Someone quietly helps without knowing how badly we needed it.

An unexpected opportunity appears.

A door opens that we weren't even looking for.

A need is met through a person we never expected.

And sometimes, nothing dramatic happens at all.

There is simply still food in the refrigerator.
Still rice in the container.
Still something to put on the table.
Still strength to get up tomorrow.
Still grace for another day.

And we realize:
“𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗵𝗼𝘄, 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲.”

Maybe that's something we need to learn to recognize.

𝗘𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲.

But enough is still something to be grateful for.

Enough means there is still something to receive.
Something to share.

Another day to live.
Another step to take.
Another reason to trust God.

Sometimes we look at what is missing and forget to notice what is still there.

We look at the empty spaces and forget the provision.

We look at what we cannot afford and forget the needs God has already met.

We look at what we wish we had and forget how many times God has already carried us with what we did have.

And perhaps the question isn't always,
“Why don't I have more?”

Sometimes we need to pause and ask,
“Have I stopped noticing how faithful God has been with what I already have?”

Because I may not have everything I want.
I may not even have very much.

But if there is still food on the table...
If there is still someone beside me...
If there is still strength for today...
If there is still grace for the next step...

𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗚𝗼𝗱'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.

Not in abundance.
Not in excess.

But in the ordinary provision of another day.

And maybe one day, when I look back, I will realize that some of the seasons I thought were defined by lack were actually seasons where I learned the most about God's faithfulness.

Because He didn't always give me more.
𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗛𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱.

And somehow, it was enough to keep going.

So if you're in a season of very little right now, don't be ashamed to admit that it is hard.

But don't let the little you have blind you to the God who is still with you.

You may have little.
You may be struggling.
You may not know how the next month will look.

But you are not forgotten.

You only have to remember:
𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.

In the little.
In the waiting.
In the uncertainty.
In the simple meal.
In the rice still left in the container.
In the person who shows up.
In the door that opens.
In the strength to take one more step.

His faithfulness does not require abundance.

Sometimes,
𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲
𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝘀 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆.

18/08/2026

When Jesus entered the village, Martha welcomed Him into her home.

She served.
She prepared.
She carried the responsibility of hospitality.

There was nothing wrong with that.

The problem began when the good work in her hands began to overwhelm the heart within her.

Luke says:
“𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗮 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴.” (Luke 10:40)

She was being pulled in different directions.

Her hands were occupied with 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀, and eventually those many things became anxiety, frustration, comparison, and resentment.

She finally said:
“𝗟𝗼𝗿𝗱, 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲?”(Luke 10:40)

And Jesus gently answered:
“𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗮, 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗮, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘅𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝘆.” (Luke 10:41–42)

Jesus did not rebuke Martha for serving.

The problem was not the work in her hands.
It was the many things competing for her heart.

And that is what makes this passage so searching.

We can become distracted not only by bad things, but by good things that have taken too much of our attention.

Work can be good.
Ministry can be good.
Serving others can be good.
Carrying responsibility can be good.

But even good things can become distractions when they cause us to lose sight of 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁.

Then Luke turns our attention to Mary.

She “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.”

She was not simply sitting.
She was listening to Jesus.

She was receiving His Word.
She was giving Him her attention.
She was taking the posture of a disciple before her Teacher.

And Jesus said:
“𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗿.” (Luke 10:42)

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝘆.

Not another task.
Not another accomplishment.

Attentive fellowship with Jesus.
Sitting at His feet.
Listening to His Word, and
receiving from Him.

Because before our hands can faithfully serve Christ,
our hearts must remain attentive to Christ.

And this is why we should not turn Martha into a villain.

We need 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗮’𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀.

Hands willing to serve, work, lead, teach, give, help, and carry responsibility.

But we also need 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘆’𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲.

A heart willing to stop, listen, receive, and treasure Christ.

Because many things can fill our hands while quietly emptying our hearts.

We can work for Jesus while neglecting to be with Jesus.

We can become so occupied with the work of ministry that we lose communion with the One we are ministering for.

So the answer is not:
“Choose Martha" or “Choose Mary.”

It is:
BE BOTH.

Serve with Martha’s hands.
Listen with Mary’s heart.

Work diligently,
but remain attentive to Jesus.

Carry your responsibilities,
but never let them carry your heart away from Christ.

There will always be many things demanding our attention.

But Jesus reminds us:
“One thing is necessary.”

And when that one thing is first,
the many things can find their proper place.

𝗦𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀,
𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝘁 “𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀” 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺
“𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗿𝘆.”

17/08/2026

Your emptiness does not make God faithful.

He was faithful before you were empty.
He is faithful while you are empty.
And He will still be faithful when you are full again.

But sometimes, emptiness changes the way we see Him.

When everything is going well, we can easily become absorbed in what we have.

Our strength.
Our plans.
Our resources.
Our ability to provide for ourselves.

But when those things run out, something is exposed:

𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱.

And sometimes, in the place where we finally realize how deeply we need God, we begin to see more clearly how faithfully He has been carrying us all along.

This is what we see in Exodus 16.

They had been delivered from Egypt.
But now they were in the wilderness.

They had no fields to harvest.
No stores to replenish.
No visible source of food.

And eventually, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝘆..

Their emptiness brought their dependence into the open.
And that emptiness frightened them.

They began looking backward, remembering Egypt as though slavery had been better simply because there had been food on the table.

But God was about to teach them something they could never learn in abundance:

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗛𝗶𝗺.

So God sent manna.

Every morning, bread appeared on the ground.

But there was something unusual about God's provision.

He did not give them enough to stop needing Him.
𝗛𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗛𝗶𝗺.

They could not gather a lifetime's supply.
They could not store it and say,
“Now I am secure.”

They had to wake up the next morning and receive again.
And again.
And again.

Why?

Because God was turning their emptiness into a classroom for faith.

Their empty hands became the place where they learned the fullness of His faithfulness.

This is why the place where you feel most empty may become the very place where God's faithfulness becomes most unmistakable.

When everything you once depended on is still working, you may never realize how much you were depending on it.

But when the strength runs out…
when the answers do not come…
when the plans fall apart…
when you cannot fix what is broken…
when tomorrow feels uncertain…

you begin to see what was always true:
He was asking you to trust the Provider.

Your emptiness reveals your need.
And your need creates a space where His provision can be seen.

The wilderness did not produce God's faithfulness.
It revealed it.

Their empty hands did not make God a Provider.
They simply gave them a reason to look to the Provider.

And perhaps that is what happens in our lives too.

Sometimes we do not recognize how much grace has been carrying us until our strength can no longer carry us.

We do not realize how faithfully God has sustained us until we reach the place where we cannot sustain ourselves.

We do not always notice the Bread from heaven until we discover that our own bread is not enough.

But we must be careful here:

Emptiness is not proof that God is closer.
Fullness is not proof that He is farther away.

God is faithful in both.

He is faithful when the table is full.
And faithful when the cupboard is empty.

Faithful when prayers are answered.
And faithful when we are still waiting.

Faithful when the path is clear.
And faithful when we cannot see beyond the next step.

The point is not that we need to become empty for God to be faithful.

The point is that when emptiness exposes our need, we have an opportunity to recognize the faithfulness that was already there.

So if you are empty today, do not assume that God has forgotten you.

Look again.

Perhaps He is not giving you everything you want.
Perhaps He is not explaining everything you wish to understand.

But look at the manna.

Look at today's grace.
Look at the strength that carried you this far.
Look at the fact that you are still here.

His faithfulness did not begin when you became empty.

It was there before the wilderness.
It is with you in the wilderness.
And it will still be there when you walk out of it.

𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀.

17/08/2026

There will be days when you feel like you are barely holding on.

Your strength is fading.
Your prayers feel tired.
Your heart is carrying more than it knows how to say.

You have tried to keep everything together.
And now,
you are hanging by a thread.

If that is where you are,

then hear this:

𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱.

Mark 5 tells us about a woman who had been suffering for twelve years.

She had spent everything she had trying to get well.
She had gone to physicians.
She had tried.
She had hoped.

And Mark says,

“𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗲.” (Mark 5:26)

She had reached the end of herself.

Then she heard about Jesus.

And she made her way through the crowd.

She did not come with confidence in herself.
She came with desperation.

She said,

“𝗜𝗳 𝗜 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀, 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹.” (Mark 5:28)

And she reached.
Her hand found the hem.

And everything changed.

But the power was not in the fabric.
The power was in Jesus.

She was not trusting the garment.
She was reaching for the One wearing it.

And that is where this story becomes relatable for all of us.

Because sometimes we are that woman.

Sometimes we have tried everything.

We have held on to our plans.
Our strength.
Our understanding.
Our ability to fix things.

And eventually,

We discover that we cannot hold everything together.

Because we can be hanging by a thread attached to our own strength, and eventually fall.

We can be hanging by a thread attached to people's approval, and eventually be disappointed.

We can be hanging by a thread attached to circumstances, and eventually lose hope.

But if that thread is attached to Jesus,
𝗪𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲.

Because my salvation has never depended on the strength of my grip.
It depends on the strength of my Savior.

The did not need a stronger grip.
She needed to reach for Jesus.

And so do we.

When we are afraid,
We need to reach for Jesus.

When we are exhausted,
We need to reach for Jesus.

When we have no answers,
We need to reach for Jesus.

When our faith is barely a whisper,
We need to reach for Jesus.

And when all we can offer Him is a trembling hand,
𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵.

Because Jesus does not ask us to come when we are strong.
He simply invites us to come.
And the woman in Mark 5 did.

So if today you feel like you are hanging by a thread,
do not be ashamed of your weakness.

Just make sure you are reaching in the right direction.

Reach past the fear.
Reach past the shame.
Reach past the disappointment.

𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗝𝗲𝘀𝘂𝘀.

And if all I can do is reach
I will reach.

If all I can do is whisper,
I will call His name.

If all I can do is take one more step,
I will take it toward Jesus.

Because I may be hanging by a thread right now.
But that thread is attached to Christ.

And I know where I am reaching.
I’m gonna be alright.

17/08/2026

There is a reason sin is so deceptive.

It rarely begins by telling you where it will take you.
It doesn't usually begin with something that looks terrifying.

It simply whispers:

“Just one time.”
“It’s not that serious.”
“You can stop whenever you want.”
“You’re still in control.”

And because the first step feels so small, we don't notice where the road is leading.

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗼.

You thought it was only one compromise.
Then another.

One lie becomes another lie to cover the first.
One secret becomes another secret to protect it.
One glance becomes a habit.
One desire becomes something you secretly return to again and again.

At first, you say,
“I can handle this.”

Then one day you look back and wonder,
“How did I get this far?”

That is the deception of sin.

It rarely feels like a cliff when you take the first step.
It feels like a harmless path.

𝗦𝗶𝗻 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆.

What you thought you could control begins to control you.

What began as a choice becomes a habit.
A habit becomes a pattern.
A pattern becomes a chain.

And the person who once said,
“I can stop whenever I want,”

eventually finds himself asking,
“Why can't I stop?”

Jesus said,
“Everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin.” (John 8:34)

Sin promises freedom:
“Do whatever you want.”

But after you surrender to it long enough, it takes away your freedom.

It tells you,
“You are in control,”
while quietly taking control of you.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗮𝘆.

Sin shows you the pleasure.
It hides the price.

It shows you the moment.
It hides the aftermath.

It shows you what you might gain.
It hides what you might lose.

You thought you were only giving up obedience.

But sin can cost you your peace.
Your integrity.
Your relationships.
Your ability to trust.
Your sensitivity to God's voice.

Sometimes it costs years you can never get back.

A lie can cost you someone's trust.

Pride can cost you a relationship.

Unforgiveness can keep you imprisoned by something that happened years ago.

Lust can reduce people made in God's image into objects for your desire.

Greed can give you more possessions while leaving you with less contentment.

And hidden sin can make you look perfectly fine on the outside while your heart slowly grows distant from God.

That is why sin is more serious than we think.

Sin doesn't merely affect what you do.
It slowly shapes who you become.

Scripture tells us plainly:

“For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23)

But this is where the Gospel becomes beautiful.

Because the Bible does not only tell us how far sin can take us.
It tells us how far Christ was willing to go to bring us back.

When sin takes you farther than you ever intended to go,
𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

When sin keeps you longer than you ever intended to stay,
𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

When sin costs you more than you ever intended to pay,
𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝘆.

The cross tells us two things at the same time:

Sin is more serious than we think.
And God's grace is greater than we could ever imagine.

Therefore, the answer is not simply to try harder or become good enough.
The answer is to 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗝𝗘𝗦𝗨𝗦.

Because the closer you walk with Christ, the more clearly you see what sin really is and the more deeply you see the beauty of the One who gave Himself to rescue you from it.

So don't wait until the consequences become unbearable.
Don't believe the lie that you can always turn back later.

𝗧𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆.

If you've wandered,
come home.

If you've fallen,
come home.

If you've become trapped in something you once thought you could control,
come home.

If you've gone farther than you ever intended to go,
come home.

The same Jesus who warns you about sin
is the Jesus who opens His arms to receive you.

𝗥𝘂𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗶𝗻.
Not merely because you fear what it can do to you,
but because you have come to love the One who gave everything to save you.

Sin takes you farther.
Sin keeps you longer.
Sin costs you more.

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸.

Come home.
Jesus is still calling.

16/08/2026

Perhaps one of the deepest fears of the human heart is this:
“𝗜𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗺𝗲, 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲?”

Because we know that people can love us deeply,
until they discover something they cannot accept.

The world often loves what is beautiful in us.

Our success.
Our kindness.
Our strength.
Our achievements.

The version of us that makes them proud.

But when the hidden things come to light, love can become complicated.
Acceptance can become conditional.

People can say,

"I never knew you were like that."

So we hide.
We edit our stories.
We conceal our weaknesses.
We keep certain thoughts locked away.
We show people the parts of ourselves we believe are worthy of love,
and hide the parts we fear would make us unworthy of it.

But Jesus does not love us because He sees only the good in us.
𝗛𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴.

The real you.
The worst you.
The exposed you.
The struggling you.
The you that nobody else completely knows.

He knows every part of you.
The beautiful parts.
The broken parts.
The hidden parts.

And still—
He loves you anyway.

Do you see how beautiful that is?

When you know that you can be completely honest with Jesus and still be completely loved by Him, you no longer have to spend your life protecting yourself from being discovered.

You can confess.
You can surrender.
You can repent.

Because the most beautiful thing about being fully known by Christ is this:
You discover that being fully known means being fully loved.

Not partially loved.
Not conditionally loved.
Not loved only when you are doing well.

Fully loved.

Because the Savior who knows you completely
is the Savior who loves you eternally.

You are fully known.
Still loved.
Still wanted.
Still invited home.

Jesus knows the worst about you.
And nonetheless—
𝗛𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁.

15/08/2026

We spend so much of our lives trying to climb.

To become successful.
To be respected.
To be noticed.
To be admired.
To prove that our lives matter.

Why?

Because somewhere deep inside us is the fear that where we are is not enough.

So we reach for more—
another achievement,
another title,
another milestone,
another place where people might finally say,
“You made it.”

We keep climbing, hoping that somewhere above where we are now, we will finally find the worth, security, and significance our hearts are searching for.

But Jesus reveals a different kingdom.

A kingdom where the way up begins by going down.

The world says,
“Make yourself greater.”

Jesus says,
“Whoever would be great among you must be your servant.” (Matthew 20:26)

The world sees greatness in being served.
Jesus revealed greatness by serving.

The world reaches for the throne.
Jesus stepped down from glory.

He came down into our humanity.
Down into our suffering.
Down into our brokenness.
And down to the cross.

The One who deserved the highest place
chose the lowest road.

The One who deserved to be served
became a servant.

The One who had every right to remain exalted
humbled Himself for us.

And He went down into our darkness
so He could bring us up into His marvelous light.

And the closer we walk with Jesus,
the more our definition of greatness begins to change.

The more we see His greatness,
the less we need to prove our own.

The more we see His glory,
the less we crave our own.

The more we understand His holiness,
the more precious His grace becomes.

And the closer we come to His heart,
the more willing we become to kneel.

Because at His feet,
I don't need to prove myself.

I can bring Him the whole of me—
the tired me.
The broken me.
The ashamed me.
The afraid me.
The me that nobody else sees.

And I don't have to make myself worthy before I come.
I can simply come.

So after every mountain I've tried to climb,
every dream I've chased,
every achievement I've worked for—

if I find myself on my knees before Christ,
I have not fallen.
I have found where I belong.

Because if the highest place I ever reach
is at His feet,
then I have reached high enough.

If the greatest thing I ever see
is His glory,
then I have seen enough.

If the greatest treasure I ever possess
is His presence,
then I have everything.

And if one day everything else is stripped away,
the titles,
the achievements,
the possessions,
the recognition,
the applause,
and all that remains is Jesus,

may I finally realize that I was never truly lacking when I had Him.

Because the world may look at His feet
and see the lowest place.

But grace has taught me otherwise.

At His feet, there is mercy for my past.
At His feet, there is grace for my weakness.
At His feet, there is rest for my weary soul.
At His feet, there is forgiveness for my sin.
At His feet, there is peace for my troubled heart.
At His feet, I don't have to be enough.

Jesus is enough.

As for me,
I would rather be known at the feet of Jesus
than celebrated anywhere without Him.

I would rather kneel before Christ
than stand on a throne without Him.

I would rather have Jesus in the lowest valley
than have everything at the highest mountain without Him.

Because the greatest place is not where everyone can see me.
It is where I can see Him.

And the highest place I will ever be—
is at the feet of Jesus.

If that is where I spend my life,
then I have not lost anything.
I have found everything.

15/08/2026

Have you ever looked at someone else's ministry and wondered,
“𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲?”

Maybe someone else gets the opportunity.
Someone else gets the platform.
Someone else gets noticed.
Someone else seems to have the gift you wish you had.

And quietly, we begin to believe that being used differently by God means being valued differently by God.

But Numbers 1 gives us a different picture.

God was organizing Israel in the wilderness.

He counted the tribes.
He arranged their camps.
He prepared them for the journey.

But then He made a distinction:
“𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗲.” (v47)

Why?

Because the Levites had been given a different responsibility.

They were to care for the tabernacle.
They were to carry it when Israel moved.
They were to set it up when Israel stopped.
They were to camp around it and guard it.

“𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗽 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘆...” (v53)

Now notice something important.

𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗲.

The other tribes still belonged to God.
They still had their place.
They still had their purpose.

They simply did not have the same assignment.

And perhaps this is something we desperately need to remember.

𝗗𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀.

Judah had a different role.
Reuben had a different role.
Ephraim had a different role.
Levi had a different role.

But they were still one people.

One covenant.
One God.
One journey.
One destination.

God did not assign every tribe the same responsibility.
He gave each its appointed place within His people and called them to be faithful in it.

And maybe we have made ourselves miserable by comparing callings that were never meant to be compared.

We look at someone else's ministry and think,
“I wish I had their influence.”

We see someone else's gift and think,
“Maybe what I do doesn't matter as much.”

We see someone else's opportunity and wonder,
“Why didn't God choose me for that?”

But Scripture reminds us:
𝗚𝗼𝗱'𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗺.

The person preaching before thousands is not automatically more valuable than the person faithfully serving where no one sees.

The person holding a microphone is not more important than the person praying quietly in the background.

The person with a public ministry is not more precious to God than the person whose faithfulness is known only to Him.

Because 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁.
It comes from belonging to God.

Paul gives us the same picture:
“𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗻𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.” (Romans 12:4)

Different members.
Different functions.
One body.

You don't need someone else's calling to be faithful.
You don't need someone else's platform to be useful.
You don't need someone else's gift to be valuable.

𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀.

And this ultimately points us to Christ.

Jesus never measured His life by popularity, recognition, or human applause.
He came with a specific mission from the Father.

“𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗲.” (John 6:38)

Jesus did not need someone else's assignment.
He simply fulfilled His Father's will.

And that is our calling too.

Maybe God has not called you to what He has called someone else to do.
That's okay.

You are not forgotten.
You are not less valuable.
You are not less loved.

You have simply been entrusted with a different assignment.

So stop measuring your faithfulness against someone else's calling.

You are part of the body.
You have a place.
You have a purpose.

Be faithful where God has placed you.

Because in God's kingdom,
𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗲.

15/08/2026

What if the greatest problem in our lives isn't that we have too little time for God?

What if the problem is that 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲?

We still pray.
We still worship.
We still read our Bibles.
We still go to church.
We still serve.

But somewhere along the way, God becomes something we fit into our lives rather than the One around whom our lives are built.

And Numbers 1 gives us a picture that we should not miss.

When Israel was in the wilderness, God gave Moses specific instructions concerning the tabernacle.

The Levites were to camp around it.
And the rest of Israel was to camp according to their tribes and standards.

Why?

Because the tabernacle—the place representing God's dwelling among His people was at the center.

Israel's camp was not randomly arranged.
Their lives were literally organized around the presence of God.

The Lord said:
“𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗽 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘆...” (v53)

Think about the picture.

The tabernacle was in the middle.
The Levites surrounded it.
The tribes surrounded them.

𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗚𝗼𝗱'𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.

That was more than an arrangement of tents.
It was a picture of how God's people were meant to live.

God was not supposed to be somewhere on the edge of Israel's life.

He was not an afterthought.
He was not something they visited when they had time.

𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿.

And perhaps that is where we need to stop and look at our own lives.

Because whatever sits at the center of your life will eventually determine the direction of everything around it.

If comfort is at the center, your decisions will revolve around comfort.
If money is at the center, your life will revolve around gaining and protecting it.
If approval is at the center, your peace will depend on what people think of you.
If success is at the center, your worth will rise and fall with your achievements.

Even ministry can become the center.
Even family can become the center.
Even good things can take the place that belongs to God.

When God is no longer at the center, everything else slowly begins to take a place it was never meant to occupy.

Israel's arrangement in Numbers reminds us of something we often forget:

God was not meant to be placed somewhere within the arrangement of our lives. He is meant to be the center around which our entire lives are ordered.

But here's where the gospel becomes beautiful.

God didn't merely tell Israel to arrange their camp around His presence.

𝗛𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺.

And then, centuries later, something even greater happened.

John 1:14 says:
“𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗲𝘀𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘂𝘀.”

The God who dwelt among Israel in the tabernacle came near to us in Jesus.

Christ entered our wilderness.
He came into our brokenness.
He came into our disorder.

And He came not merely to become part of our lives,
but to become the center of them.

God can be in our lives without being at the center of our lives.

You can give Him an hour on Sabbath and still organize the rest of your week around yourself.
You can pray to Him and still make every major decision without Him.
You can serve Him and still build your identity around something else.
You can carry His Word and still arrange your life around your own desires.

So today, don't simply ask:
“Where is God in my life?”

Ask:
“What is my life arranged around?”

What sits at the center?
What determines my priorities?
What controls my decisions?
What gives me my sense of worth?

Because whatever is at the center will eventually shape everything around it.

Israel had a center.
And that center was the dwelling place of God.

We have Christ.

So let Him be more than a part of your life.
Let Him be the One your life revolves around.

Not in the background.
Not on the edge.
Not when you have time.

𝗔𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿.

Because when Christ is at the center,
everything else can finally find its proper place.

Speak through Him

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