Tag: spiritual practices

Purpose & Integrity, Divine Alignment, Spiritual Rhythms, purpose, calling, integrity, alignment in action, divine alignment, divine presence, spiritual alignment, abiding, reflection, spiritual practices, daily walk, calling before clarity

Calling Before Clarity: Walking in Faith without a Map

Beth - blogger, coach, consultantLeave a comment

We live in a culture obsessed with certainty. From a young age, we are taught that security comes from having a plan, a strategy, and a clearly defined destination. We carry this same mindset into our spiritual lives, assuming that God will reveal the whole roadmap before asking us to move.

Yet Scripture tells a different story. God calls Abram before showing him the destination. Jesus calls Matthew before explaining the journey. Again and again, the pattern is the same: calling comes before clarity. Throughout Scripture, God often works through a rhythm of calling before clarity, inviting people to trust Him before they can fully understand where the journey will lead.

Imagine driving through thick fog at night. If you turn on your high beams, the light reflects off the mist and makes it harder to see. What you need is enough light for the next twenty feet. And when you travel those twenty feet, you discover twenty feet more.

The spiritual life often works the same way. You are called to a purpose, but asked to move before you have clarity of the whole picture.

This is the essence of divine alignment.

Purpose is not a distant destination we discover on our own; it is a doorway we choose to walk through. Trust is the actual room where we live. Faith is learned while walking, not while waiting for perfect clarity. The spiritual life is less about finding a destination and more about learning how to walk faithfully with God.

When we stop obsessing over the final destination and focus instead on a faithful daily walk with the One who initiates the invitation, our spiritual paralysis begins to loosen its grip.

Purpose Begins With Calling, Not Certainty

Why do we experience such tension when it comes to understanding our life’s direction?

The answer is simple: we often confuse our desire for control with a desire for God’s will. We want to see the end of the story before we write the first page. But we receive the calling to follow before we gain clarity.

In the modern world, purpose is often treated as something we create through self-discovery, career planning, or personal achievement. But Scripture presents a different picture. Purpose begins with calling. It starts with God, not with us.

True spiritual alignment means recognizing that we do not invent a purpose; we participate in God’s purposes already at work in the world. Faith is forged in the space between invitation and explanation. The posture of abiding asks us to release our grip on outcomes and accept the reality of calling before clarity.

Abram’s story illustrates this beautifully. God tells him:

“Go from your country … to the land I will show you.”

Notice what God does not provide: a map, a timeline, or a destination. Abram receives his calling long before he receives clarity.

Matthew experiences the same pattern. Jesus simply says:

“Follow me.”

No detailed explanation. No guarantees. Just an invitation.

Both men discover the same truth: Purpose begins with calling, not a map; integrity begins with response. Wisdom begins with obedience before understanding.

your calling, daily walk, stepping out in faith,

For both the ancient patriarch and the first-century tax collector, the path forward required a radical surrender to a calling before clarity. Their stories remind us that spiritual growth often begins when we stop demanding certainty and start embracing the invitation of calling before clarity.

Trusting the Caller More Than the Map

Before we evaluate our next step, we need confidence in the One who is calling us.

Psalm 33 reminds us:

“The counsel of the Lord stands forever … Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people whom he has chosen as his heritage.”

Notice that word: chosen.

Puzzle piece with 'Chosen One' illuminated

We often hear words like calling or purpose and immediately feel pressure. We imagine a test we must pass or an assignment we must complete. But the Psalmist reminds us that calling begins with grace. God invites us into what He is already doing in the world. It is an invitation to anchor our souls in His reliability, allowing us to find peace in a posture of calling before clarity.

Before God reveals a plan, He reveals His character. The goal of faith is not confidence in the path itself. The goal is confidence in the One leading the way.

When we begin to understand this, our perspective changes. We stop trying to convince God to bless our plans and instead learn to align ourselves with His purposes.

Divine alignment is not asking God to bless our plans; it is allowing our lives to align with His.

Suddenly uncertainty becomes less threatening. Instead of seeing the unknown as a problem to solve, we begin to see it as an opportunity to deepen our trust.

When Faith and Circumstances Collide

Taking the first step does not guarantee an easy road.

Often we respond to God’s invitation only to discover that the circumstances seem to contradict the promise. The fog grows thicker. Prayers remain unanswered. Waiting stretches longer than expected.

Paul reflects on this reality in Romans 4 through the life of Abraham. Abraham looked honestly at his situation. He saw his aging body. He saw Sarah’s barrenness. By every human calculation, the promise seemed impossible. Yet Abraham refused to place his trust in the circumstances alone. He trusted the character of God.

This is the difference between wishful thinking and faith.

  • Wishful thinking ignores reality.
  • Faith faces reality honestly while anchoring itself in God’s faithfulness.

Which leads to one of the most important truths of the spiritual life:

Faith is easy when the promise and the circumstances agree. Faith is forged when the promise and the circumstances disagree.

Integrity means remaining aligned with God’s truth even when your circumstances tell a different story.

When prayers seem unanswered or disappointment settles in, it is not necessarily evidence that you have missed your purpose. It may be an invitation to deepen your trust through honest reflection, remaining anchored to the God who brings dead things back to life.

Calling Before Clarity and the Lord’s Prayer

Jesus gives us a profound insight into this way of living through the Lord’s Prayer.

When the disciples ask Him how to pray, He teaches them:

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

This is the ultimate prayer of divine alignment.

Notice what Jesus does not teach us to pray. He does not say, “My plans be successful,” or, “My future be made clear.” Instead, He teaches us to align ourselves with God’s purposes.

We do not begin by asking, “What purpose can I create for myself?” We begin by asking, “What is God already doing, and how can I join Him through my daily walk?”

This shifts everything. We do not invent a purpose; we respond to a calling. A life rooted in calling before clarity is willing to pray, “Thy will be done,” even when the path ahead remains hidden.

Your Daily Walk and the Next Faithful Step

How do we actually live this way? Not through dramatic revelations or perfectly detailed plans. More often, wisdom grows through simple spiritual practices that shape our daily walk.

The first is reflection. Reflection helps us notice where God has already been present and active in our lives. Looking back reminds us of God’s faithfulness and gives us courage for the uncertainty ahead.

The second is prayer. Prayer is not primarily about getting answers. It is about releasing control. As we bring our anxieties to God, we loosen our grip on outcomes and learn to rest in His presence.

Together, these practices cultivate abiding. Abiding is the muscle memory of trust. It is the ability to remain spiritually grounded even when the future feels uncertain. Walking in faith without a map is not a special skill reserved for spiritual giants; it is a habit formed through small acts of trust practiced day after day.

Every act of obedience, no matter how small, becomes a practical expression of calling before clarity. Over time, these small responses shape both our character and our confidence in God.

When we stop demanding a five-year plan, we become free to ask a much more practical question: What is the single next faithful step God is inviting me to take today?

the way, the path, daily walk, the next step

Three simple practices can help navigate the terrain:

  • The Low-Beam Review: Identify the one step required of you today. Focus on the next twenty feet rather than demanding a map of the entire journey.
  • The Altar Reflection: Remember specific moments when God has been faithful in the past. Let memory strengthen trust.
  • The Ledger Relinquishment: Surrender outcomes in prayer. Release the need to control what only God can control.

Perhaps your next faithful step is an act of service. Perhaps it is forgiveness. Perhaps it is ending a destructive habit. Perhaps it is a difficult conversation you have been avoiding to restore integrity to a fractured room.

Whatever it is, alignment in action means taking that one step with trust and leaving the outcome in God’s hands.

Conclusion: Stepping Into the Room

Laying down the demand for certainty is one of the great invitations of the spiritual life. We do not need to solve the next decade in order to live faithfully today.

Remember:

  • Purpose begins with calling.
  • Integrity begins with response.
  • And over time, those responses become a life of wisdom.

At the end of the day, divine wisdom is rarely about seeing farther. It is about trusting deeper. A calling before clarity is not a flaw in God’s guidance. It is often the very means by which God frees us from our obsession with control and draws us into deeper relationship with Him.

You do not need to see the whole horizon. You only need enough light for the next twenty feet. Walking in faith without a map does not mean wandering aimlessly; it means trusting the One who knows the road even when you do not.

Relax your grip on the future, look into the eyes of the One who calls you, and take the next faithful step. He is already there.

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abiding, biblical wisdom, calling, divine alignment, divine presence, emotional intelligence, inner transformation, Integrity, justice, practical wisdom, reflection, self-awareness, spiritual practices

The Journey of a Spirit-Filled Life: From Gifts to Fruits

Beth - blogger, coach, consultant1 Comment

Pentecost is often remembered as one of the most dramatic moments in Scripture.

A violent rushing wind.
Tongues of fire.
People speaking in other languages.
Crowds gathering in amazement.

And rightly so. The story in Acts 2 is extraordinary.

But one of the mistakes we sometimes make is assuming that the Holy Spirit only appears in loud, emotional, public, or supernatural ways.

The deeper witness of Scripture tells a far richer story for a Spirit-filled life.

Sometimes the Spirit comes like fire. Other times, it appears as a violent wind. Or a quiet breath.
The Spirit appears in prophecy, in wisdom, in courage and even in compassion.
And still, the Spirit shows up in artistry, administration, and even in quiet faithfulness.

The story of Pentecost is not about one kind of spiritual experience. It is about the many ways the same Spirit moves through different lives, personalities, gifts, and callings — always drawing us toward inner transformation and deeper alignment with God.

This is the heart of divine alignment.

Not performance.
Not spectacle.
Not spiritual comparison.

But abiding in divine presence so deeply that our lives slowly begin to reflect the character of Christ.

The Spirit Creates Communion

In the Pentecost story, the miracle was not simply that people spoke in tongues.

The deeper miracle was that people heard and understood one another across barriers of language, culture, and nationality.

The Spirit reversed Babel.
We witnessed communion, where the Spirit gathered divided people into one body.

This matters profoundly for our lives today.

We live in a world of fragmentation:

  • political division
  • relational breakdown
  • emotional isolation
  • spiritual exhaustion
  • reactive communication
  • increasing disconnection from ourselves and one another

Living a Spirit-filled life is not merely mystical experience.
The work of the Spirit is reconciliation, alignment, healing, presence.

The Spirit restores our capacity to truly see and hear one another.

And that requires something deeper than emotional intensity.
It requires inner transformation.

And perhaps this is part of what makes the work of the Spirit so difficult to contain. The Spirit does not always move in the ways we expect, prefer, or try to control.

Sometimes the Spirit Arrives as Breath

In John’s Gospel, we encounter a completely different image of the Spirit.

The disciples are hiding behind locked doors, afraid.

Jesus comes among them and says:

“Peace be with you.”

And then:

“He breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’”

No fire.
No crowds.
No dramatic spectacle.

Just breath.

Not all Pentecost moments are dramatic.

Your Spirit-filled life may arrive quietly, gently, almost unnoticed, in the middle of fear and ordinary life.

This is the wisdom of abiding.

Divine presence is not only found in mountaintop experiences.
It is found in daily practice.
In silence.
In reflection.
In spiritual rhythms.
In rest and renewal.
In the quiet cultivation of awareness.

The Spirit does not only arrive in fire.
Sometimes the Spirit arrives as breath.

The Spirit Refuses to Be Controlled

In Numbers 11, Moses gathers seventy elders, and the Spirit rests upon them.

But two men — Eldad and Medad — remain outside the expected gathering place.
And yet the Spirit comes upon them too.

Joshua is alarmed.
“Stop them!” he says.

But Moses answers with one of the most beautiful statements in Scripture:

“Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his Spirit on them!”

Your Spirit-filled life refuses to be gatekept.

And once we begin to notice this pattern, we see it everywhere in Scripture.

The Spirit comes upon:

  • prophets who speak truth
  • artisans who create beauty
  • leaders who govern wisely
  • administrators who organize resources
  • servants who care for vulnerable people
  • ordinary people living with integrity and courage

The Spirit was never limited to one kind of holiness.

A Spirit-Filled Life: Creativity and Wisdom

One of the most fascinating details in the Bible is that the first person explicitly described as being “filled with the Spirit of God” is not a prophet or preacher.

It is Bezalel — an artist and craftsman.

God says in Exodus:

“I have filled him with the spirit of God, with ability, intelligence, and knowledge in every kind of craft.”

His Spirit-filled life empowered him to create beauty.

This is ancient wisdom we desperately need to recover.

Too often we divide life into “spiritual” and “ordinary” categories.
But biblical wisdom refuses that separation.

The Spirit can move through:

  • art
  • design
  • music
  • craftsmanship
  • architecture
  • writing
  • caregiving
  • leadership
  • practical service

Not all Spirit-filled work happens in sanctuaries.
Some happens in workshops, kitchens, and offices.
We find Spirit-filled conversations where we least expect it: with drug addicts under bridges, in a bar, or even with tax collectors.

This same pattern appears again in the story of Joseph.

After Joseph interprets Pharaoh’s dreams and proposes a strategy to survive the coming famine, Pharaoh says:

“Can we find anyone else like this — one in whom is the spirit of God?”

And what had Joseph done?

He had:

  • planned wisely
  • organized resources
  • prepared for crisis
  • created systems that would save lives

Joseph saved lives not through spectacle, but through wisdom, discipline, discernment, and faithful administration.

Sometimes a Spirit-filled life looks less like ecstasy and more like grounded wisdom.

Sometimes divine alignment looks like practical wisdom.

And this is precisely the point Paul is trying to make in 1 Corinthians.

Spirit-filled life, inner transformation, divine presence, alignment

Many Gifts, One Spirit

In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul addresses a church obsessed with comparison and spiritual status.

And Paul reminds them:

“There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit.”

The miracle of Pentecost is not that everyone becomes the same.
The miracle is that one Spirit works through many different lives.

Not every gift looks dramatic.
Not every gift is public.
The loud gift is not holier than the quiet one.

Paul mentions gifts like:

  • wisdom
  • knowledge
  • faith
  • healing
  • discernment
  • service
  • leadership
  • encouragement

Some of these gifts are visible.
Others are deeply inward.

Even faith itself may be a gift of the Spirit-filled life.

Some people carry a steadiness of trust that strengthens everyone around them. In moments of fear and uncertainty, they remain anchored. This too is Spirit-filled living.

Many sincere people quietly feel spiritually inferior. They think:

  • My faith is too quiet.
  • My gifts seem too ordinary.
  • I’m not charismatic enough.
  • I’m not emotionally expressive enough.
  • I don’t have dramatic spiritual experiences.

But Paul rejects spiritual comparison.

Your difference is not a deficiency.
It is by design.

The Spirit does not mass-produce identical human beings. The Spirit works uniquely through different personalities, callings, temperaments, and life experiences.

And Paul gives us one of the most important reminders in the entire passage:

“To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”

Spiritual gifts are neither private trophies nor status symbols.
They are not proof of superiority.

Instead, they exist to bless the community.

This is where emotional intelligence and spiritual maturity begin to intersect.

The spiritually mature person is not merely asking:
“What gift do I have?”

But:
“How can my life become a blessing to others?”

The Fruit of a Spirit-filled Life

And this brings us to one of the most important distinctions in the Christian life.

Gifts differ from person to person, but fruit is the calling of every single Christian.

The Bible does not say: “You will know them by their gifts.”

It says: “You will know them by their fruits.”

And perhaps that helps us understand one of Jesus’ most difficult teachings — the cursing of the fig tree.

From a distance, the tree looked healthy.
Alive.
Fruitful.
Covered in leaves.

Everything about its outward appearance suggested that fruit should be there. But when Jesus came close, there was nothing.
No fruit.

The deeper warning is not merely about the season for figs.
The deeper warning is about appearance without transformation.
About outward spirituality without inward reality.

A tree can look alive from far away.
It can have visibility.
Growth.
Religious language.
Public spirituality.

But when examined closely, there may be no fruit.

And the same can be true spiritually.

A person may display:

  • charisma
  • eloquence
  • spiritual language
  • public ministry
  • dramatic experiences

But the true evidence of the Spirit-filled life is not the leaves.
It is the fruit.

Not performance or spectacle.
Transformation.
Becoming more like Christ.

Because gifts are what the Spirit does through us.
Fruit is what the Spirit grows within us.

And when the Spirit truly takes root in a life, over time there begins to grow:

  • love
  • joy
  • peace
  • patience
  • kindness
  • generosity
  • faithfulness
  • gentleness
  • self-control

Gifts may appear suddenly.
Fruit grows slowly.

Gifts may attract attention.
Fruit reveals character.

Gifts can impress people.
Fruit nourishes people.

The Quiet Work of Inner Transformation

Perhaps the clearest sign of the Holy Spirit is not found in the loudest voice, the most dramatic testimony, or the most extraordinary gift.

Perhaps the clearest sign of the Spirit-filled life is slowly becoming more loving, peaceful, patient, gentle, truthful, aligned and whole. This is the deeper work of spiritual formation:

  • Inner healing.
  • Radical honesty.
  • Forgiveness.
  • Integrity.
  • Purpose.
  • Alignment in action.

Not perfection.
But transformation.

And this transformation rarely happens through one dramatic moment alone.

It is cultivated through spiritual rhythms:

  • prayer
  • reflection
  • rest
  • discipline
  • self-awareness
  • wise decision-making
  • honest relationships
  • daily surrender
  • abiding in divine presence

Many gifts.
One Spirit.
One body.

And one calling:
To become more like Christ. This is the true Spirit-filled life.

The Revised Common Lectionary for Pentecost
The Heart-Centered Way: Embody Divine Law for Authentic Living

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Listening to the Shepherd: Overcoming Life’s Noise

Beth - blogger, coach, consultant2 Comments

“We don’t lose the Shepherd because we reject Him—we lose Him because we slowly stop listening.”

That single sentence carries the gentle wisdom of this week’s readings. It is not a story of dramatic rebellion or a sudden turning of the back. It is the story of the quiet drift of distracted sheep. It is the story of how easily we move from the center of the Spirit’s presence into the static of the world’s noise.

I. The Architecture of Noise: Why We Drift

The hills of ancient Judea were quiet. They were vast and lonely enough that a shepherd’s voice could carry across a canyon, echoing against the limestone. In that world, silence was the canvas upon which the voice was painted.

Our 2026 world is not Judea.

We live in what we might call an “Architecture of Noise.” There is a constant, humming “noise floor” in our lives—a cocktail of notifications, professional expectations, simmering anxieties, and the relentless comparisons of the digital age. We are bombarded by twenty-four-hour news cycles and the even faster cycle of our own racing thoughts. In that roar, it is incredibly easy to miss a whisper.

We must be honest with ourselves: we don’t wander far on purpose. Very few of us wake up and decide to be lost. We simply follow one appealing patch of grass, and then another. A little more scrolling. A little less silence. A little more self-direction because we think we’ve figured out the terrain. Before we know it, the flock feels far away, the sun is setting, and the voice that has been leading us all along has grown faint.

The problem is not that God has stopped speaking. The Divine is always broadcasting. The problem is that we have learned how to live with so much noise that we no longer recognize the voice that leads us. We have become accustomed to the static.

II. Abiding: The Gate to our Sanctuary

In the Gospel of John, Jesus offers us a metaphor that we often misinterpret through a modern lens. We think of a gate as a hinged door or a cold iron fence. But in the ancient world, the “fold” was a simple circular wall of stacked stones with a single narrow opening. There was no wooden door to swing shut.

Instead, the shepherd was the gate.

When the sun set and the sheep were gathered inside the safety of the yard, the shepherd would literally lie down across that opening. He used his own body as the protective layer between the flock and the outside world. To get to the sheep, a predator had to physically step over or move the shepherd.

“Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep… Whoever enters by me will be saved and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

The ancient Shepherd didn’t just close a gate; He was the gate. He used His own body as the barrier between the flock and the noise of the world.

When Jesus says He is the Gate, He is telling us: “Your safety is my responsibility.” The “thief” in our lives—the voices of shame, the predators of “not enough,” and the frantic noise of our to-do lists—tries to coax us out into the dark. But abiding is the decision to stay behind the one who sleeps at the entrance. It is the relief of knowing that you don’t have to defend yourself tonight. You don’t have to be the one on guard.

Alignment, in this sense, is more than resting: it’s learning to stay. It is the mechanical act of coming inside and trusting the living barrier that stands between you and the noise. We enter the fold not to be restricted, but to be restored in a space where the wolves cannot reach.

III. Mindful Walking: The Gentle Pace of Being Led

There is a beautiful, rhythmic sequence in Psalm 23 that we often overlook because we are so familiar with the words.

“He leads me in right paths… He makes me lie down in green pastures… He restores my soul.”

Notice the order: He leads first. We walk mindfully in Divine presence. Restoration follows. We often want the restoration without the leading. We want the “still waters” as a destination we can drive to on our own terms. But the wisdom of the Psalm is that the restoration is a by-product of the proximity.

One of the most profound realizations in this text is this:

Notice—He leads. He does not chase.

In the ancient world, the shepherd walked ahead, and the sheep followed the sound. If the sheep ran off, the shepherd didn’t usually run them down in a panic; he kept calling. And when we find ourselves in the “darkest valley”—those seasons of grief, unemployment, or health crises—the rod and the staff are not weapons of control. They are tools of comfort. They are the tactile, physical proof that even when we cannot hear the whisper because our own fear is too loud, the Shepherd is still right there.

The staff is the touch of the Divine when the sound is gone. The path of life is not found by running ahead or figuring it out alone; it is found by staying close enough to be led.

The Shared Signal of the Fold, abiding, divine presence, discipline

IV. Acts 2: The Shared Signal of the Fold

One of the greatest lies of the modern age is that spirituality is a solo sport. We think we can “stay aligned” in total isolation. But the sheep teach us otherwise.

In Acts 2, we see the early believers devoted to a shared life: teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer. They understood a fundamental law of spiritual physics:

Drift happens alone.

Restoration happens together.

When we are alone, our internal noise becomes an echo chamber. We lose our perspective. We forget what the whisper sounds like because our own voice is the only one we hear. But in the “fold”—in the community of the church—we help each other remember the frequency. Their shared life created a low-noise environment. When one person’s ear was too tired to hear the Shepherd, the person next to them could say, “Listen, He is calling this way.”

When we drift from the table of shared life, we eventually find ourselves out in the cold, wondering how we got so isolated. The beauty of Acts is the reminder that we are the “backup signal” for one another.

V. 1 Peter 2: The Presence That Never Leaves

Finally, we must address the reality that sometimes, even when we are trying to listen, life is deeply unfair. 1 Peter speaks to those who suffer unjustly—people who are doing their best to stay aligned but are still in the valley.

“You have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.”

Christ’s own suffering was not a failure of alignment; it was the deepest expression of staying close to the Father’s will. His presence is our ultimate guardrail. There are days when your ears will be too tired or the world will be too noisy to tune in. In those moments, remember that He is the “Guardian.” He holds you when you cannot hold yourself steady. He is the shepherd who stays in the valley until the very last sheep is accounted for.

VI. A Daily Practice for Staying Close

You do not need a dramatic overhaul of your life to find this alignment. You only need small, gentle returns. Wisdom is built in these daily choices of attention.

Morning Silence (2–3 minutes): Before you check your phone, before the noise floor rises, say: “Good Shepherd, I am here. Tune my ear to Your whisper today.” Midday Check: In the heat of the day, pause for sixty seconds. Ask yourself: “Whose voice am I following right now? Is it the voice of urgency, the voice of ego, or the voice of the Shepherd?” Listen for the gentle pull back to the center.

Evening Return: As you close your day, offer it honestly. “Where did I sense Your leading? Where did I drift?” Offer the drift without shame. Step back into the fold—perhaps by reaching out to one person who helps you remember who you truly are.

Closing Word

The Shepherd is still speaking. The question is not whether the voice is there—but whether we are still close enough to recognize it.

Abundance is not a distant destination. It is not something you “achieve” after years of perfect behavior. Abundance is the state of being found. It is the quiet joy of staying close enough to the Source that the whisper becomes your second nature.

Prayer Good Shepherd, thank You that You never stop calling. Forgive us for the thousand small ways we stop listening. Teach us to lower the noise, to stay close to the fold, and to trust that even in the valley, Your rod and staff are comfort, not control. Make Your voice the most familiar one in our lives. Amen.

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Trust without certainty: Thomas’ journey to Faith

Beth - blogger, coach, consultantLeave a comment

The Gap Between Theory and Reality

Most of us have experienced the gap between theory and reality.

Think back to a time when you took on a major new responsibility. Perhaps it was becoming a parent, starting a new career, caring for an aging loved one, or stepping into a leadership role. Before the moment arrived, you probably did your research. You read the books, listened to the experts, and gathered advice from people who had gone before you. You felt prepared.

Then reality arrived.

In our journey, we often find ourselves learning to trust without certainty.

The books suddenly seemed less helpful at two o’clock in the morning when the baby would not stop crying. The carefully constructed plans gave way to exhaustion, uncertainty, and the uncomfortable realization that life rarely unfolds according to theory. In that moment, something important happens. The idea of being a parent dies, and the reality of loving a child is born.

The difference is not knowledge. It is relationship. It is the difference between knowing the manual and knowing the person.

Faith often unfolds in much the same way. Much of our spiritual growth begins with ideas, beliefs, and expectations. Yet sooner or later, life confronts us with situations where certainty disappears. We find ourselves learning to cultivate trust without certainty, discovering that faith is not simply about having the right answers but about remaining in relationship with God when the answers are incomplete.

Thomas, one of Jesus’ disciples, found himself standing in precisely that gap.

Thomas and the Courage of Radical Honesty

After the resurrection, the other disciples had seen the risen Christ. Thomas had not.

His struggle is often reduced to a problem of doubt, but the story reveals something deeper. Thomas is wrestling with an experience he missed. The others possess a certainty that he lacks. They have seen what he has not seen, and they are asking him to trust their testimony.

What makes Thomas remarkable is not his doubt but his self-awareness. Rather than pretending to believe what he does not yet understand, he practices radical honesty. He openly acknowledges his struggle and names what he thinks he needs.

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

Many of us know that feeling. Sometimes our questions about faith are not intellectual objections. They arise because we have not experienced what others seem to experience so easily. We hear stories of answered prayers, profound encounters with God, or moments of spiritual clarity, and we wonder why our own journey feels less certain.

What happens next reveals something remarkable about Christ. Jesus does not shame Thomas. He does not reject him. Instead, Jesus meets him exactly where he is. The place of doubt becomes the place of encounter.

In one of the most compassionate moments in the Gospel of John, Jesus invites Thomas to come closer. He offers the very evidence Thomas requested. Yet Jesus also points beyond Thomas when he says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

With those words, Jesus creates a bridge from certainty to trust.

Trust Without Certainty

Thomas receives the gift of seeing. Future generations of believers, however, will be invited into something different.

Most of us will never touch the wounds of Christ. We will never stand in that upper room and receive the kind of certainty Thomas desired. Instead, we are invited into a different kind of faith—one that learns to trust without certainty.

This is where the story begins to speak directly into our lives.

Many of us spend years searching for certainty. We want guarantees that God is present. We want proof that our prayers are being heard. We want reassurance that we are on the right path.

Yet mature faith often develops in another direction. Rather than receiving more certainty, we find ourselves learning to trust without certainty. We discover that faith is not the absence of questions. Faith is the willingness to continue walking with God in the midst of unanswered questions.

This movement from certainty to trust is one of the deepest forms of inner transformation. It changes not only what we believe but how we live.

Spiritual Rhythms and the Maturing of Faith

The psalmist describes this mature faith when he writes,

“I keep the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.”

This is not the language of a dramatic spiritual breakthrough. It is the language of spiritual rhythms.

The psalmist is describing a practiced awareness of God’s presence. Faith has become more than an occasional experience. It has become a way of life shaped by reflection, prayer, worship, and other spiritual practices that keep the heart oriented toward God.

This may be one of the greatest misconceptions about faith. We often imagine that trust is built through dramatic moments of certainty—an answered prayer, a powerful worship experience, or a profound spiritual insight. While such moments can be important, they are rarely sufficient to sustain us over a lifetime.

Trust is usually formed much more quietly.

It is formed through the spiritual rhythms we return to day after day. Prayer teaches us to bring our questions honestly before God rather than hiding them. Reflection helps us recognize patterns of grace that are easy to miss in the rush of daily life. Scripture reminds us of God’s faithfulness when our own perspective becomes clouded by fear or uncertainty. Worship lifts our attention beyond our immediate circumstances and reorients us toward a larger story.

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These spiritual practices do not remove uncertainty. Instead, they teach us how to remain present within it. They cultivate the capacity to abide in God’s presence even when answers are incomplete. Over time, what begins as a discipline becomes a disposition. We find ourselves developing a deeper trust—not because life has become more predictable, but because we have repeatedly encountered God’s faithful presence in the midst of unpredictability.

This is why trust without certainty is not a single act of faith. It is a way of life. It is the fruit of spiritual rhythms that gradually transform the heart and nurture a resilient faith capable of enduring both clarity and mystery.

The author of 1 Peter writes to believers who had never seen the risen Christ:

“Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him.”

These believers had learned something profound. They had learned to trust without certainty.

Peter describes their faith as gold refined by fire. It is a resilient faith, strengthened through testing, uncertainty, and perseverance. Rather than destroying faith, difficulty becomes the means through which faith is purified and strengthened.

Again and again, God brings renewal in places where fear, doubt, and uncertainty once dominated. Over time, believers discover that trust grows not through the elimination of hardship but through God’s faithful presence within it.

Faith Carried by Community

One of the most overlooked details in Thomas’s story is that he remained with the community even while he struggled.

He doubted, but he did not leave.

Before Thomas ever encountered the risen Christ for himself, he was sustained by the testimony of others. The community continued telling the story. They continued gathering. They continued holding faith on his behalf until he was ready to encounter Christ for himself.

The same remains true today.

There are seasons when our faith feels strong and confident. There are other seasons when uncertainty weighs heavily upon us. During those times, the community becomes one of God’s greatest gifts. Others hold hope when ours is fading. Others remind us of truths we can no longer clearly see.

Peter’s declaration in Acts captures this beautifully:

“This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses.”

Faith is never merely a private experience. It is a shared story. Sometimes we continue learning to trust without certainty because someone beside us is still carrying the story when we no longer have the strength to carry it ourselves.

A Final Invitation

Thomas touched the wounds of Christ and believed.

Most of us will not receive that kind of certainty.

Instead, we are invited into the ongoing journey of learning to trust without certainty. We are invited to recognize Christ through a lifetime of faithful encounters—in community, in Scripture, in prayer, and in the quiet persistence of grace.

Faith matures through spiritual rhythms. It grows through self-awareness, radical honesty, trust, and reflection. It is strengthened by spiritual practices and sustained by community. Over time, these rhythms shape a resilient faith capable of enduring uncertainty without surrendering hope.

Faith ultimately takes root not because everything has been proven but because we have come to trust the One who remains faithful.

Where might Christ be inviting you today?

Perhaps the invitation is not to find more certainty.

Perhaps the invitation is simply to take the next step in learning to trust without certainty.

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Transform your life choosing joy: lessons from Palm Sunday

Beth - blogger, coach, consultantLeave a comment

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24

This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it!

We often read those words as a simple encouragement—a reminder to be grateful when life is going well. But Psalm 118 offers something much deeper than positive thinking.

It offers a choice.

The psalmist does not say, “I feel joyful today.” He says, “I will rejoice.”

Each and every day I am choosing joy!

Joy, in this sense, is not merely an emotion. It is a decision. A spiritual practice. A way of approaching each day before our circumstances have given us a reason to celebrate.

That perspective becomes especially meaningful when we consider the events of Palm Sunday.

As Jesus entered Jerusalem, crowds lined the streets waving palm branches. Cloaks were spread before Him. Voices filled the air with shouts of praise:

“Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

The city was alive with excitement. The people were celebrating the arrival of a king.

And yet, within days, everything would change.

Palm Sunday invites us to consider a question that remains just as relevant today: What is the difference between celebrating for a day and choosing joy every day?

Why Celebration Isn’t the Same as Joy

There is nothing wrong with celebration.

Celebration is a beautiful response to God’s goodness. We celebrate births, weddings, graduations, answered prayers, and unexpected blessings. We celebrate victories, milestones, and moments when life seems to be moving in the right direction.

The people of Jerusalem had good reason to celebrate as Jesus entered the city.

For generations they had longed for deliverance. They hoped for freedom. They expected God’s promised king to restore their nation and overthrow their oppressors.

As Jesus entered Jerusalem, many believed that moment had finally arrived.

But there is a difference between celebration and joy: celebration is often connected to what is happening around us. Celebration rises and falls with circumstances.

On the other hand, joy is rooted in what is happening within us, it remains even when circumstances change.

The crowds on Palm Sunday had celebration.

What they lacked was the deeper transformation that could sustain joy when life did not unfold as expected.

When Expectations Shape Our Happiness

One of the most challenging realities of life is that our expectations often shape our emotional world.

We tell ourselves:

I’ll be happy when…

  • When the job comes through.
  • When the relationship improves.
  • When the diagnosis changes.
  • When the finances stabilize.
  • When life finally looks the way we hoped it would.

The crowd in Jerusalem had their own version of that story.

  • They expected a political king.
  • They expected immediate victory.
  • They expected Jesus to solve the problems they could see.

But Jesus was entering Jerusalem for something far greater than they imagined. He was not coming to claim a throne. He came to embrace a cross.

When Jesus failed to meet the expectations many had placed upon Him, the crowd’s enthusiasm quickly faded. The same city that shouted “Hosanna!” would soon cry “Crucify Him!”

What changed?

Not Jesus.

The people’s expectations changed.

And if we are honest, we often find ourselves in the same place. It is possible to celebrate Jesus publicly while resisting the deeper work He wants to do within us. We praise God when life is going well yet struggle to trust Him when life becomes difficult.

Palm Sunday invites a moment of self-awareness.

Are we seeking God primarily to change our circumstances? Or are we allowing God to transform our hearts?

The Spirit’s Path to Lasting Joy

The story of Holy Week reveals that God’s plans are often deeper than our expectations. Jesus entered Jerusalem humbly, riding on a donkey rather than a warhorse.

He came not as a conquering general but as a King of peace. His victory would not come through force, it would come through surrender. His kingdom would not be established through domination, but through sacrificial love.

  • Jesus would be rejected.
  • He would be crucified.
  • He would be buried.
  • And then He would rise.

Because of His death and resurrection, something new became possible: the Spirit of God would no longer simply work around people. The Spirit would dwell within them.

The same life that walked into Jerusalem now comes to live within every believer.

And that changes everything: Joy is no longer dependent upon favorable circumstances. Joy becomes the fruit of God’s presence within us.

The source of joy shifts from external conditions to internal transformation.

This is why Christian joy can endure seasons of grief, uncertainty, disappointment, and waiting. Because the roots of your joy reach deeper than circumstances. These roots are planted in the presence of God.

daily practice, inner transformation

Choosing Joy as a Daily Practice

If joy is a fruit of the Spirit, does that mean we simply wait for it to appear?

Not exactly.

Fruit is God’s work, but spiritual growth involves our participation.

The Christian life is filled with spiritual rhythms that create space for God’s transforming work.

  • Prayer.
  • Gratitude.
  • Scripture.
  • Worship.
  • Reflection.
  • Silence.
  • Service.

These practices do not manufacture joy, but they position us to receive it. This is where choosing joy becomes a daily practice.

Choosing joy does not mean pretending everything is fine, ignoring pain or denying reality. It means intentionally returning our attention to God’s presence in the midst of reality.

Some days that choice comes easily. Other days it requires discipline.

It requires us to remember that God’s goodness has not disappeared simply because life feels difficult. Choosing joy requires that we trust God is at work even when we cannot yet see the outcome.

It requires us to pause and notice grace in ordinary moments:

  • A conversation with a friend.
  • A sunrise.
  • A shared meal.
  • A prayer quietly answered.
  • A moment of peace in the middle of a difficult season.

Spiritual rhythms train our hearts to recognize these gifts.

Over time, choosing joy becomes less of a reaction and more of a way of life.

Not because life becomes easier, but because we become more aware of God’s presence within it.

From Palm Branches to Living Fruit

Paul describes the result of the Spirit’s presence in Galatians 5 as the fruit of the Spirit:

  • Love.
  • Joy.
  • Peace.
  • Patience.
  • Kindness.
  • Goodness.
  • Faithfulness.
  • Gentleness.
  • Self-control.

Notice that Paul does not describe separate fruits. He describes one fruit expressed through many qualities.

A Spirit-filled life is an integrated life: at the center of that life is joy.

Yet joy does not stand alone.

  • Love strengthens our ability to choose joy because we know we are held securely by God’s love.
  • Peace anchors joy when circumstances feel uncertain.
  • Patience sustains joy while we wait for God’s timing.
  • Kindness allows joy to overflow into the lives of others.
  • Goodness gives joy integrity and depth.
  • Faithfulness keeps joy steady over time.
  • Gentleness shapes how joy is expressed.
  • Self-control reminds us that joy is often a decision before it becomes a feeling.

Together these qualities form the character of Christ within us.

The crowd on Palm Sunday had palm branches, but they did not yet have the fruit. They had enthusiasm, yet lacked endurance. They had a moment of celebration. Nonetheless, they had not yet experienced the transforming work of the Spirit.

The invitation of the Christian life is not simply to celebrate Christ occasionally. Instead, it is to allow Christ to transform us continually.

Choosing Joy Every Day

Palm branches are beautiful; but they are temporary.

  • They are lifted high during moments of celebration.
  • They appear when expectations are high and hope is rising.
  • Yet palm branches eventually dry out and fade.
  • They are carried for a moment and then laid aside.

Joy is different.

Joy is not a celebration for a day; it is a daily practice.

  • It is choosing to trust God’s presence when circumstances are uncertain.
  • It is choosing gratitude when life feels ordinary.
  • It is choosing hope when prayers seem unanswered.
  • It is choosing to believe that this day—this ordinary, imperfect, challenging day—is still a gift from God.

The crowd celebrated Jesus for a day. The Spirit teaches us to choose joy every day. And as we continue to walk with Christ, what begins as a decision gradually becomes a way of life.

The palm branches fade; the fruit remains. And so today, whatever season you find yourself in, hear again the invitation of Psalm 118:

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Not because life is perfect.
Not because every prayer has been answered.
Not because every circumstance has unfolded the way we hoped.

But because God is present. And where God’s Spirit is present, joy can grow.

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Ignite Your Fire: The Spirit of Justice Leads to Peace

Beth - blogger, coach, consultant1 Comment

This Second Sunday of Advent the lectionary does something daring: it hands us four passages that, when read together without the usual Christmas filter, refuse to let us separate “spiritual life” from the concrete demands of justice. They introduce us to the Spirit of Justice. We are trading the gentle image of the baby in the manger for the ruler who strikes the oppressor with the rod of his mouth (Isaiah 11:4) and the Baptist with the axe already at the root (Matthew 3:10).

Strip away the candles and the countdown, and what remains is a single, non-negotiable claim running through every reading: the presence of the Holy Spirit is never invisible, never private, never merely devotional; it is publicly verified by the appearance of justice, equity, humility, and reconciled relationships—or it is shown to be absent. If the Spirit is in us, justice will come out of us.

I. The Spirit Defines Our Vocation: Justice for the Vulnerable

(Reading: Isaiah 11:1-5; Psalm 72:2-4)

The Spirit is not given for quiet, internal comfort; the Spirit is given for public work. The model for all Spirit-filled life is the Messiah, whose anointing leads directly to a change in the world’s power structure.

The Spirit of Justice is the Engine of Equity (Isaiah 11)

On the Messiah rests the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and the fear of the LORD. This profound spiritual description is immediately connected to one output:

“He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge for the poor, and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth.” (Isaiah 11:3-4)

The cause is the six-fold Spirit-anointing; the effect is justice for the poor. There is no spiritual maturity without social conscience.

Defining Justice and Equity:

Justice (Mishpat in Hebrew) is not merely punishing the bad; it is actively restoring right relationship, ensuring the poor have an advocate, a voice, and their material needs met.

Equity (Tzedakah) is the visible righteousness that ensures everyone receives what is due to them, correcting imbalances so the vulnerable are lifted up.

The Non-Negotiable Litmus Test (Psalm 72)

The Psalmist turns the Messiah’s vocation into a litmus test for any leadership—or any community—that claims to represent God:

“May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor.” (Psalm 72:4)

If our lives or institutions fail the test of delivering justice for the vulnerable, our claim to God’s authority is illegitimate. Justice is the fundamental job description of the Spirit-filled life.

II. The Spirit of Justice: Transformation by Repentance for the Hypocritical

(Reading: Matthew 3:7-12)

We cannot deliver justice in the public square if we are unrepentant in our hearts. John the Baptist ensures this ethical demand begins not with policy, but with radical, personal, internal change.

The Demand for Fruit

Repentance is redefined as transformed action. It is not a feeling of regret; it must “bear fruit worthy of repentance.” The fruitless tree is a metaphor for spiritual hypocrisy and ethical laziness.

The Purifying Fire

The Messiah comes to baptize “with the Holy Spirit and fire.” The fire is the transformative, judging force that separates the genuine, fruit-bearing life (wheat) from the superficial, unjust pretense (chaff).

The Spirit’s fire forces us to confront and burn off the unjust parts of our hearts, our self-serving habits, and our compromises with power. We must allow the fire to burn off the chaff of our lives:

  • Spiritual Pride: The belief that identity can substitute for behavior.
  • Comfort and Complacency: The tendency to ignore need or suffering to maintain personal peace.
  • Self-Serving Habits: The ways we use our gifts or resources exclusively for self-preservation.
  • Silence in the Face of Injustice: Our refusal to speak up when the vulnerable are crushed.

Inner purging is the prerequisite to outer justice.

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III. The Spirit Sustains Our Community: Welcome for the Adversary

(Reading: Romans 15:4-7, 12-13)

The ethical demands of the Spirit extend beyond individual action; they fundamentally govern the life of the community. Justice in the public sphere must be matched by righteousness in the relational sphere.

The Relational Diagnostic

This leads to the supreme “relational fruit” of the Spirit-filled life: the command of welcome:

“Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” (Romans 15:7)

This is the ultimate relational diagnostic. If the Spirit has poured out hope that brings together those historically divided (Jew and Gentile), then any divisions we maintain—based on race, class, politics, or theology—render our welcome unjust.

Steadfastness and Hope

The Spirit is given so we can sustain this difficult ethical demand. To “abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13) is to receive the spiritual power necessary to continue the humbling work of living in harmony with people we find challenging or uncomfortable.

The Spirit empowers the process of justice.

Conclusion: The Spirit’s Test for Our Lives

The lectionary’s question stands: Does the Spirit’s fire in us produce justice, repentance, and welcome? If the answer is no, our spiritual life is failing the only test that matters.

But the good news is that we don’t have to generate this power ourselves. It is the Spirit’s own fire at work in us, refining us, not destroying us. This purification is for a purpose: to build a community where the poor do not stand alone, where reconciliation is normal rather than surprising, where repentance is freedom, and where unwelcome strangers become brothers and sisters. That is the Spirit of Justice.

May God grant us grace to fail every lesser test—to let go of every superficial marker of spirituality—so that we pass this one.

May the Spirit of Justice burn away every root that bears no good fruit, until justice flourishes, welcome overflows, and the poor know they have allies in God’s people.

And may the world see in us the justice, mercy, and welcome of the Spirit who lives among us.

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Seeing is believing: how Thomas’ challenge shaped his faith

Beth - blogger, coach, consultantLeave a comment

Today’s lectionary reading brings us the story of Thomas after Jesus’ crucifixion and burial (John 20: 19-31). For most of us, it’s a well-known story. 

Jesus comes to the disciples who are meeting and praying together in hiding, but Thomas is absent this day. When he returns, they tell him that Jesus has risen and visited, but he doubts. 

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” (John 20:25)

And yet, when Jesus returns to visit a week later, Thomas is there and witnesses for himself that Jesus has indeed risen. 

“Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” (John 20: 27)

So, what would it take for your faith to be challenged and strengthened? 

What personal experience could you have that would confirm to you that God’s power in your life is real? 

Peter stumbled and fell into faith

Perhaps an easier example for us to relate to is Peter, the rock on which Jesus said the church would be built. We see many instances where Peter shows a great understanding of Christ, only to overshadow it with his doubting, hesitance, and failure of faith.

Peter was possibly the only one to see Jesus walking on water, yet this same Peter was hot-tempered and rebuked the children that wanted to come to Jesus. 

He’s passionate and impetuous: Peter was the first to say that he would accompany Jesus in prison and death, but at the moment of truth, denied that he even knew him.

This very same Peter was told off three times for falling asleep while accompanying Jesus in the garden for prayer. 

From euphoria to failure

Peter gets swept up in the euphoria of Jesus’s power and miracles.

I want that!

But he crumbles under persecution. 

He got it – Jesus was the messiah.

And he lost it – I’m too scared to follow this road of faith. 

Many of us, like Peter, have denied that we knew Jesus: with our words, or with our actions, or our priorities.

Perhaps you’ve lost faith, because of fear – just like Peter.

Nonetheless, Peter still becomes the pillar of the early church, an example for others to follow. 

Peter is the first to run to the empty tomb. He is also the first to jump out of the boat and swim to the shore to see Jesus after the resurrection.

In order to counter Peter’s denial of Christ three times before the crucifixion, we see Jesus ask Peter three times “Do you love me?”. Having failed three times, it’s important for Peter to confirm three times that he has overcome this failure in faith and believes. 

But his journey was plagued by missteps and mistakes.

Do your actions speak of faith or doubt? 

Inner transformation: Thomas’ doubts strengthen his faith

It’s easy to see how Peter’s mistakes turn into strength. 

But Thomas has a different road of challenges before him. They are more subtle, but equally strong.

And these are the mental doubts and stumbling blocks we face.

When we lose a loved one, or don’t get that dream job, it’s easy to fall into the mental loop of doubt and asking “Why?”

People around us are quick to give us empty platitudes:

  • “Everything happens for a reason…”
  • “God won’t give you more than you can handle…”
  • “God has a wonderful plan for your life…”

And for Thomas, that challenge was seeing the man and friend that he believed in killed to satisfy the bloodthirst of the mobs and political powerplays.

The monkey mind: making you second-guess yourself

I’m sure he had millions of thoughts running through his head:

  • We did so much for the sick, the needy and the masses, but they turned their backs on Jesus.
  • Everyone listened to Jesus’ teachings, but is this the end of our journey?
  • Jesus promised us the kingdom of heaven, but now all we have is death and despair. 

And when the disciples tell him that they’ve seen a resurrected Jesus, Thomas doesn’t jump with joy and faith. 

He’s cynical. He’s rational and thoughtful, not easily swayed by a cheerful friend.

He no doubt has a million thoughts running through his head as he tries to make sense of his experiences of the past three years. 

Radical honesty: Show me the money

Most of us have heard someone say “Show me the money.”

I don’t want any of your stories: I want to see the evidence. Don’t talk about the value you bring to the table, show me the value and benefits. 

And for Thomas, it wasn’t enough that others had experienced seeing Jesus. He needed to experience this for himself. 

When Jesus shows up, he doesn’t lecture Thomas. We might judge Thomas and read judgment into Jesus’ words to him, but does Jesus actually judge him?

Instead, Jesus says:

“Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Do not doubt but believe.” (v. 27)

Thomas said: “Show me the money!” and Jesus’ response is “Here’s the cold, hard cash.” Stop doubting. Here you go. 

His evidence is the wounds and scars, yet he overcame this. 

The challenge to overcome

For most of us, we find it easier to trust someone that has the battle scars than someone finely dressed, that hasn’t experienced life’s hard knocks. 

Want to know why Dr. Joe Dispenza is so popular? It’s not just what he’s teaching, but rather that he first had to get himself out of his semi-paralysed state and back on his feet again! Six of his vertebrae has compound fractures. He risked being a quadriplegic. But he overcame this challenge. 

We trust his scars and his journey. He walked the talk. Those scars tell a story of faith and healing. 

Similarly, people are willing to follow the teachings of Louise Hay who healed herself from cervical cancer through forgiveness and letting go.

Because, for many of us, seeing is believing.

We need to see the scars and wounds of others to believe that it’s possible for us to heal and get back on our feet. M

Much like Thomas, we say when I see the nail marks in his hands and the wound in his side, then I’ll believe that healing is possible.

We need these live examples to open our eyes to the possibilities of what could be. 

Self-awareness: What challenge are you facing?

So today, I ask:

What challenge are you facing and what example do you need to strengthen your faith? 

Perhaps you’ve lost your business and are struggling with financial difficulties: 

  • Job had everything – the richest man, a wonderful family with children and grandchildren, and a fantastic reputation – only to have it all disappear in a moment. Can you find inspiration in Job for seeing is believing?
  • David is another great example – reduced to living in caves, running and hiding despite having been anointed to be the new king.

If you’re looking for modern examples, there are many like J.K. Rowling who went from a broke mother to becoming a billionaire through her creative efforts in writing.  Even Richard Branson, the owner of Virgin, had a rought start to life.

For others, it’s getting through betrayal.

Wasn’t Jesus betrayed? And David, by his son Absalom? Or Joseph who was sold into slavery by his brothers. 

Perhaps the challenge to your faith is sickness.

And we have many examples of healing:

  • Natural healing – you break a bone, the doctor sets it back in place and immobilises it, and your body takes care of the rest! The doctor only has to make sure it’s aligned, so that when healing takes place, it’s all in the right place. 
  • Sometimes, the miracle we need comes in the form of a doctor and medicine! But isn’t that still healing. The knowledge and how to help the body to overcome sickness and injury pave the road to recovery.
  • Most of us, of course, just want the miracle healing. The instant, no rational explanation, kind of healing. Of course there are examples of this – in life and in the Bible. But this isn’t the most common type.
  • We also have examples of miraculous healing over time – like Dr. Joe Dispenza and Louise Hay that weren’t healed in a day, but rather healed little by little. How many of us are willing to hold our faith, day by day, for this healing?
  • And sometimes, the healing that happens is in the heart – with acceptance for what is, forgiveness and letting go of resentment. Perhaps there is no physical manifestation, but what gets healed is relationships and we let go of bitterness.  Isn’t this also a miracle? 

What scars and wounds do you need to see, like Thomas, in order to restore your faith?

Do not doubt, but believe.

John 20: 27