At The Feet of Jesus:

Ever had your car’s GPS steer you wrong? The other day, I followed the GPS on my phone to a new place and still ended up lost. I did everything right, followed each turn and every direction, but somehow Google Maps led me to the wrong spot. I’m sure that has happened to you, too. Still, it made me think about how nice it would be if we had a GPS for life, something that could give us clear, step-by-step directions when we do not know which way to go.

Thankfully, we do. God has already given us one in His Word. Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Scripture does more than point us toward heaven; it helps us through the twists and turns of daily life. When we read it and apply it, God’s Word guides our choices, attitudes, and relationships with wisdom and peace.

But just like a GPS, it only works if we actually use it. You can have the best navigation system in the world, but if you never open the app or enter the destination, you will never reach your goal. The same is true spiritually. A Bible that stays closed cannot guide you. When we neglect God’s Word, confusion often follows. Think about the frustration you feel when Siri sends you to the wrong place. You probably muttered a few choice words under your breath when you ended up somewhere you did not want to be. Many people will face that same reality in life, realizing too late that ignoring God’s direction has taken them far from where they were supposed to be.

Proverbs 3:6 reminds us, “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” When we take time each day to read God’s Word and invite the Father into our decisions, He faithfully provides the direction we need. If you feel lost today, open His Word and let Him show you the way forward. Even if you cannot see the whole road ahead, His truth will always light your next step, and eventually, you will end up right where you were meant to go. 

 

Many years ago, my family and I visited Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. If you’ve never been, it’s quite an experience—an underground world of twisting tunnels and vast caverns that stretch for hundreds of miles beneath the earth. On one of our tours, the park ranger led us into a large chamber, then asked everyone to raise a hand in front of their face. He turned off the lights, and for the first time in my life, I experienced complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hand, though it was only inches from my face. The blackness was so deep it almost felt heavy, pressing in from every side.

I’ve often thought about that moment when I read Jesus’ words about “outer darkness”—the way He described hell as a place where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth (Matthew 8:12; 22:13; 25:30). While we tend to picture hell as fiery and hot, Scripture also paints it as a place utterly without light, hope, or the presence of God. That kind of darkness isn’t just physical—it’s spiritual. It’s the total absence of the One who is light and life itself.

Hell is not a comfortable topic for preachers these days (I can’t remember the last time I heard a preacher mention it), but it is a necessary one. There is a need for those of us who are in the light to warn others that sin separates. Eternal destinies matter. The reality is that wide is the path that leads to destruction and there are many who are crusing down the highway of life without thinking about where they will end up one day. 

God doesn’t want anyone to live—or die—without His light. Jesus came to rescue us from that eternal darkness, offering instead the promise of His presence forever. But if we never warn others, or even take this truth into our own hearts with a healthy fear of the Lord, we may succumb to the darkness. 

So when the world feels dim or you sense shadows creeping into your heart, remember this: you don’t have to live in darkness. The same Savior who spoke light into existence still says, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life” (John 8:12 NKJV).

 

As someone who wrestles with depression, there are days when my thoughts threaten to drown me. During those times, negativity and uncertainty can pour over my soul, making me feel like I am standing under Niagara Falls with a Dixie Cup. And before anyone rushes to remind me how I should feel as a Christian, let’s be real: the abundant life isn’t always easy. Sometimes, it’s downright brutal.

Jeremiah knew that struggle. In Jeremiah 38, the prophet is thrown into a cistern—a deep pit carved from rock, damp and dark, meant to collect rainwater. But this one held no water, only dirt or mud. Jeremiah sank into the darkness and remained there for many days (Jeremiah 37:16), abandoned and left to starve. Imagine the chill of those stone walls, the echo of silence, the feeling that God Himself had gone quiet. Yet even in that long darkness, God hadn’t forgotten him. The Lord moved the heart of a man named Ebed-Melek, who courageously approached the king and pleaded for Jeremiah’s release. With ropes and old rags to cushion him, and some men to help, they gently pulled the weary prophet out of the pit and back into the light.

That image speaks deeply to me. God doesn’t leave us in the dark forever. Sometimes, His rescue comes not through thunder or miracles, but through the compassion of another person willing to reach into our dark place. And it strikes me that Ebed-Melek didn’t try to rescue the prophet by himself. He took others with him (30 men) to help him lift the prophet before he succumbed to despair and died (Jer. 38:10). 

So this morning, if you’re the one stuck in the pit, hold on—God sees you. He’s working behind the scenes to send someone with ropes and rags of grace. And if you’re standing in the sunshine, look around—someone near you might need a lifeline. Don’t judge. Don't remind them of how they ought to feel, or make them feel inadequate because they are struggling. Just do what needs to be done to help them move from the darkness into the light. Reach down and help them find their way back. In fact, take the church with you when you do. I suspect that pulling Jeremiah out of the pit might have been tough for one person to do, but with thirty men all focused on rescuing one soul, the burden was easier to bear. 

Is there someone around you who needs you to bring ropes and rags of grace today? Instead of asking God to send someone else—or offering well-meaning but empty words—why not be the answer to their prayer? Grab a rope and start pulling. You might just help someone find their way out of the darkness and back into the light. Just saying.

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” — Psalm 40:2 (NIV). 

 

And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” – 1 Kings 19:12 (NKJV)

Have you ever prayed for God to show up in some mighty, unmistakable way—and nothing happened? Elijah knew that disappointment. After standing boldly for God on Mount Carmel, he found himself hiding in a cave, worn out and afraid. He longed for God to do something powerful to change his situation. Instead, the Lord met him in a way Elijah didn’t expect.

The wind tore through the mountains, the ground shook beneath him, and a fire blazed before his eyes—but God wasn’t in any of it. Then came a gentle whisper. And in that still small voice, Elijah discovered what his heart needed most: not God’s power, but His presence.

It strikes me that God was with Elijah the entire time. Even in the cave—dark, lonely, and silent—Elijah wasn’t alone. God didn’t abandon him; He simply chose a quieter way to reveal Himself. Sometimes, we’re so focused on wanting God to move mountains that we miss the miracle of Him simply being with us in the cave.

When God seems silent, remember—His presence is often closer than His power is visible. He may not always shake the earth or send fire from heaven, but He never leaves your side. Take time today to rest in that truth. Instead of asking God to prove His power, invite Him to remind you of His presence. Because when you know He’s near, even the cave becomes holy ground.

 

Have you noticed how things that were once clearly right are now up for debate? It seems as if the biblical values that once shaped our lives are now fading into a fog of compromise. Standards shift. Commitments don’t last. Convictions bend under pressure. Half-truths become the norm. Yet the reality is this—our generation isn’t facing anything new. The same patterns have surfaced throughout history.

In Jeremiah 35, God paints a picture for us. In this often-overlooked chapter, God tells Jeremiah to offer wine to the Rechabites—a simple request to most people—but they refuse to drink any wine at all. Why? Because generations earlier, their ancestor Jonadab commanded them not to drink wine, build houses, or plant vineyards, so they followed this advice. Times changed and centuries passed, yet the Rechabites remained faithful to what was handed down. For over 200 years, they honored that instruction. God then uses their loyalty to challenge Judah: “Look at this family—they obey a human command from their forefather. But My people ignore My voice again and again.”

God wasn’t honoring the Rechabites simply because they didn’t drink wine—He was honoring them because they listened and obeyed. In a world full of compromise, they stood firm. As times changed, they held fast to the instruction passed down. 

And God rewarded them with a promise: “Jonadab son of Rechab will never fail to have a descendant to serve Me” (Jer. 35:19).

We may not be asked to avoid vineyards, but we are called to live by God’s standards—even when they’re unpopular. When everyone else cuts corners, will you walk in integrity? When the world says, “follow your heart,” will you follow God’s Word? When obedience costs you something, will you remain faithful? The Rechabites show us that obedience is not about convenience—it’s about covenant. And while abstaining from wine might be a small thing, even one small step of obedience honors God. He sees it. Who knows, God might just use your obedience as an example to draw others to Him. 

We’ve all seen the paintings—Jesus on the cross with a jagged crown of thorns pressed into His brow. It’s a heartbreaking image, but recently I heard a preacher explain that crown in a way that stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t just torture. It was theology.

When Adam sinned, God declared in Genesis 3:18 that the ground would be cursed and “both thorns and thistles it will produce for you.” From that moment on, thorns became a physical reminder of humanity’s rebellion—a symbol of sin, curse, and separation from God. Every thorn that pierced a farmer’s hand and every tangle of briars in the field testified to the same truth: this is what sin has done. Generation after generation felt the weight of that curse as they labored against the ground, constantly reminded of the cost of disobedience.

Fast-forward to the crucifixion. As Roman soldiers mocked Jesus, they twisted together a crown of thorns and shoved it onto His head. They thought they were humiliating Him. But in the sovereignty of God, something much deeper was happening.

Jesus wasn’t just wearing pain… He was wearing the curse.

The very symbol of sin was placed on the sinless Savior. He carried our curse to the cross so we wouldn’t have to carry it anymore. What once represented death now points to redemption. What once screamed “condemnation” now whispers “grace.” The crown of thorns became the crown of life.

If Jesus was willing to wear my curse, why am I still wearing the things He already carried? Guilt, shame, regret—those thorns no longer belong on my head. Today, let’s loosen our grip on the burdens Christ already bore. Lay them at the foot of the cross and walk in the freedom He purchased—because the curse has a new name: victory.

Unfortunately, the area where I live has an epidemic of pine beetles. Most of the trees in my backyard have been affected by these nasty little creatures. If you’re familiar, the beetle burrows under the bark of the tree, and as it multiplies, it carries a fungus that destroys the nutrient and hydration system of the pine, slowly killing it. The tree doesn’t collapse overnight—it simply dies of thirst from the inside out.

The trouble is, I never saw a single pine beetle, but I’ve certainly seen the evidence of their destruction. What was once a tall and mighty pine, stretching toward the sky, became little more than a rotted stick of wood. By the time I noticed the dying trees, it was already too late to attempt a rescue. The only recourse was to cut them down and stack the wood along the fence for firewood.

It strikes me that our lives can be much the same. The things that damage our relationship with God often work in secret, hiding from the light—an unkind thought, an angry intention, a quiet resentment we justify or ignore. Outwardly, everything may look healthy, but inside, those small, unseen sins can block the flow of God’s grace and drain our spiritual strength.

That’s why David prayed in Psalm 139:23–24, “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” He understood that God’s searchlight isn’t meant to condemn us, but to heal us—to reveal what’s hidden so we can be made whole again.

Like the trees in my yard, we sometimes need our Heavenly Father to peel back the bark of our hearts and expose what lies beneath. When we allow Him to do that gentle work, His grace begins to flow freely again, bringing renewal where decay once lived. So today, take a quiet moment and invite God to search your heart. Don’t fear what He might uncover—His goal isn’t to shame but to restore, to help you grow strong and thriving once more in His Spirit.

Reflection:
What hidden thing might God be asking you to surrender today so that His life can flow freely again in you?

The heart of God still beats for the lost. His Word declares that He “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4). That truth has not changed, even if our pulpits have grown quiet about it. In an age where “feel-good” sermons often replace messages of repentance, the urgency of the Gospel still stands firm. Christ came “to seek and to save those who are lost” (Luke 19:10), and His mission remains our calling today.
The tragedy of our times is that many have grown comfortable hearing about God’s love but rarely about His holiness. We preach grace but avoid repentance. We sing about heaven but seldom warn about hell. Yet the same Jesus who stretched out His arms in mercy also spoke of judgment for those who reject Him. Salvation was never meant to be a half-hearted decision or a whispered prayer to ease the conscience. It’s a complete surrender—a death to self and a new birth in Christ. Anything less is a counterfeit gospel.
If the fire has faded in our churches, perhaps it’s because the fire no longer burns in our hearts. The Gospel that once turned the world upside down still has the power to change lives, but it must first change us. Ask God to rekindle your passion for the lost. Let the flames of conviction burn again until you can’t help but speak of His saving grace. When the Church regains her burden for souls, the world will once again see the light of Christ blazing through the darkness.

Ever grow weary in doing good? Let’s face it: being kind requires intention, effort, and often more than a bit of selflessness. Pastors know this truth all too well. The call to ministry is filled with joy, but it is also marked by sacrifice. There are always more sermons to write, more sick to visit, more prayers to pray, and more ministries to oversee. And in today’s world, every action and word can feel like it’s being scrutinized—not only in the church pews, but potentially online for the world to see.

In the midst of all this, it’s easy to forget that pastors are human too. They have families who need them, bodies that need rest, and hearts that can grow weary. I often look back on my own ministry days and wish I had taken more time to pour into those closest to me. The truth is, even shepherds need tending.

The Apostle Paul wrote, “Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart” (Galatians 6:9, NKJV). Those words apply to every believer, but they carry special weight for pastors. The harvest may not always be visible in the moment, but God sees their labor of love.

This October—Pastor Appreciation Month—take a moment to encourage your pastor. A note of thanks, a simple prayer, or a kind gesture can breathe life into someone who spends so much of their own life pouring out for others. And if you are a pastor, may you be reminded that your faithfulness matters more than you know—both to God and to the flock He’s entrusted to you. 

My special-needs son has a love language: food. If you put mac and cheese, pizza, BBQ, chicken strips, or even Doritos in front of him, he’ll enjoy every bite. But it wasn’t always that way. When he was younger, he was one of the pickiest eaters you could imagine. He would only touch a certain chicken nugget from a particular place (Hint: Golden Arches).

So what changed? He grew. He began to try different things. Little by little, he developed a taste for new flavors prepared in different ways. His understanding of food didn’t come all at once—it followed his experiences. Each new bite opened the door to something more. There were moments of hesitation, times when he wasn’t sure about dipping his spoon into the bowl, but whenever he did, it always led to a broader, richer palate.

The same is true in our walk with God. Psalm 34:8 says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” Notice the order—first, we taste. We pray, open His Word, take small steps of trust, and walk in obedience. As we do, we begin to experience His presence, His provision, and His promises. Our faith deepens not just because we’ve heard about His goodness, but because we’ve lived it, tasted it, and seen His promises proven true.

You may not fully understand what God is doing in your life at this moment. That’s okay. Understanding often follows experience. Just as a child learns to enjoy new flavors, we learn to trust the Lord as we continue to “taste” what He sets before us. Every season, whether sweet or bitter, gives us another chance to discover that His goodness never runs out. So today, make it your prayer: “Lord, help me to keep tasting and seeing Your goodness day by day. Let every experience draw me closer to trusting You, until my understanding deepens into wisdom.”

Who knows, you might develop a new love language. 

Ever been impressed by an act of kindness? I have. There have been moments in my life when someone’s kindness or forgiveness touched me so deeply that it completely changed my outlook. Sometimes it was a simple gesture, other times it was a word of encouragement or even a prayer I didn’t know someone was praying for me. God has often used those moments to meet me right where I needed Him most.

Paul knew the transforming power of kindness. In Ephesians 4:32, he writes, “And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.” Notice the flow—kindness springs from a tender heart, and a tender heart is nurtured through forgiveness. 

But forgiveness is not easy. People hurt us, betray us, or speak against us, and the natural response is to hold on to the pain. When we let those wounds fester, bitterness hardens our hearts, and kindness gets pushed aside. That’s why Paul points us back to Christ. He reminds us that we are to forgive others because we have already been forgiven.

So, what happens the next time someone wrongs us? Instead of repaying hurt with hurt, we can let God’s forgiveness soften our hearts. Make us tender. We can choose to show kindness, extend compassion, and even forgive—because Christ has done the same for us.

Today, ask God to make your heart tender. Let His mercy toward you overflow into the way you treat others. After all, if God had not been tenderhearted with us, none of us would stand a chance. But because He forgave, we can forgive—and because He loved, we can love. Who knows, your act of kindness or forgiveness might be the very thing someone needs to draw them to the Heavenly Father and change their eternity.  

The other day, I went into full meltdown mode. I mean, a panic-stricken, no-holds-barred temper tantrum. I’ll spare you the details, but in short, I let my circumstances take control. I worried about providing for my family. I second-guessed every decision. I carried fears that felt far too heavy. I even questioned whether I truly loved God or was worthy to be called His child. There were tears, a lot of anger, and some deep frustration that poured out like the water flowing over Niagara Falls. 

When the storm passed, I sensed God speaking to my heart. The real issue wasn’t that I didn’t love Him—it was that I had surrendered the battlefield of my mind. My fear and anger had grown because I was setting my thoughts on everything else but Him.

I think you can relate. It’s so easy to get stuck on the temporary—bills, deadlines, disappointments—instead of the eternal. Paul reminds us in Colossians 3:2-3, “Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” The word Paul uses for “set” (phroneo) is in the present imperative, meaning that it describes a continual action. It means deliberately and continually focusing our thoughts on Christ. It might mean we need to do it a thousand times a day. The point is to keep doing it.

That’s the real struggle of the Christian life: our thinking. The enemy often chooses our minds as the battlefield, and if we leave our thoughts unchecked, they can derail our walk with God. But the good news is we don’t fight alone. Our lives are secure—hidden with Christ.

So the next time anxious or negative thoughts flood in, pause and ask yourself, “Where am I setting my mind right now?” Then shift your focus. Open Scripture, whisper a prayer, or speak God’s promises out loud. Even jot Colossians 3:2 on a card or in your phone. And when fear rises, remind yourself: My life is hidden with Christ—even on manic Mondays when a full-blown meltdown seems to be in order.

Do you recall the moment when the Word of God first touched your heart? For me, it was a fall Sunday morning when I was twelve. The pastor was preaching on sin and repentance, and I realized for the first time that while God loved me, there was a problem. Even though I was a “good boy” most of the time, I still needed Him to forgive my sin and make me a new creation.

The Old Testament tells us about King Josiah, who ascended to the throne at the tender age of eight. Years later, while repairing the temple, his workers discovered a forgotten scroll of God’s law. When the words were read to him, Josiah’s heart broke, and he wept. His response of repentance changed not only his life but also the direction of an entire nation (2 Kings 22).

How different this is from the world we live in today. We prefer sermons that entertain us, words that encourage us, and teachings that flatter us. But somewhere along the way, we have lost the ability for the Word of God to break our hearts. Yet Scripture reminds us that without repentance, there is no real relationship with God. Acts 3:19 (NKJV) says, “Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.”

That “refreshing” comes only when we are willing to be broken before Him. Repentance isn’t something we do just once at salvation—it’s a daily posture of humility before God. If we want to see Him move in our lives, our families, and our communities, we must allow His Word to search us, expose hidden places, and bring us back to Himself. When we let repentance soften our hearts, we don’t just find forgiveness—we discover the life, freedom, and refreshing presence of the Lord.