Don't Give Up...

There’s a powerful moment portrayed in The Chosen where Mary Magdalene seems to lose her grip on the identity Jesus gave her and drifts back toward the darkness He had freed her from. So many people resonate with that scene. I do too. We know what it feels like to fall back into old pits, old patterns, old shame.

But there’s something about that portrayal that stirs a question in me.

If Mary Magdalene had truly returned to her former life after being delivered, wouldn’t Scripture have told us? The Bible does not hide the failures of its heroes. Peter’s denial is recorded in painful detail. Paul’s persecution of Christians is laid bare. Their worst moments are preserved for all of history to read.

But Mary? After Jesus frees her, we never see her falter.

Instead, we see a woman so transformed, so convinced, so set ablaze with love for her Savior that she is the first to the tomb. The first to see the risen Christ. The first entrusted with the greatest news in human history. And when she tells the others, they don’t even believe her.

In a culture where a woman’s testimony carried little weight, Mary stood firm. She knew what she had seen. She knew Who she had encountered. And she did not waver.

Yet strangely, many of us consider Mary an exception to the rule. We don’t like to believe that God uses the ones who were caught in sins we consider beneath us. We want to believe He chooses the people we think should be chosen. But when we look at Peter and Paul, we see a very different picture. Peter walked in Jesus’ inner circle and still denied Him out of fear. Paul was educated, respected, and convinced he understood God so well that he persecuted His people. Their stories force us to confront what I mean.

We don’t want to believe that life’s betrayals and disappointments could ever tempt us to return to places that feel familiar. I want to believe that Mary had an advantage we don’t—that she knew Jesus in the flesh and in the Spirit, and that’s why she never strayed. But if I’m honest, that line of thinking can quickly become an attempt to justify and rationalize my own struggles.

Peter wasn't just one of the twelve disciples. He was one of the three who were most privy to Jesus' heart. He saw the miracles up close. He heard every teaching. And still, in a moment of fear, he denied the One he loved. Three times. Not because he hated Jesus, but because he feared man more than God.

Paul is similar. Brilliant. Educated. Certain he understood God perfectly. So certain, in fact, that he believed persecuting Christians honored Him. It took being struck blind on the road to Damascus for Paul to finally see clearly.

And yet, when we think of Mary Magdalene, we often reduce her to her past. We remember her sins before Jesus more than her faithfulness after Him.

But what if she wasn’t the exception?

What if Paul was?

It is often easier for God to reveal His love to someone who knows they are broken than to someone who is convinced they already understand Him. Pride is far harder to uproot than shame. Knowledge can be a thicker veil than sin.

Jesus washed Mary clean just as completely as He washed Peter of his denial and Paul of his violence. None of their sins were “too much.” Not sexual sin. Not betrayal. Not persecution. Not pride.

And once Mary was free, she lived like someone who believed she was truly free.

That’s the part we miss.

We assume that because we fall back into old struggles, that must be the normal Christian story. But Scripture shows us something else through Mary Magdalene: a heart so captivated by Jesus that the old life lost its grip.

Peter, in his shame, went back to fishing. Back to what he used to do. And Jesus came for him again on the shore and called him back out.

If you feel like Peter today—ashamed, discouraged, tempted to return to what’s familiar—Jesus will meet you there.

But if you feel like you should give up because you keep failing, remember Mary.

Remember that complete transformation is possible. Remember that freedom can be lasting. Remember that your past does not get to define your future with God.

The enemy wants you to believe that relapse is inevitable, that you’ll always go back, that your faith will always flicker.

Mary’s story whispers something different:

When love for Jesus becomes the defining fire in your heart, the old darkness loses its appeal. The spirit of familiarity has to bow before Jesus.

So don’t give up.

Don’t stop pursuing Him because you think you “should be better by now.” Don’t assume your struggle disqualifies you. Whether you are more like Peter, more like Paul, or longing to be like Mary, Jesus meets you in every place.

And He is still in the business of calling people out of graves, out of shame, out of pride, and into life.

Keep going.

Fan the flame.

The freedom He gives is real—and I’m still learning to walk in it too. It’s a lifelong journey. May we find people who are willing to walk it out alongside us, and may our lives quietly encourage even those who struggle to understand what God is doing, drawing all of us a little deeper into who He is.

Thoughts From an Immature Believer

I recently read an Instagram post about the parable of the wheat and the tares. The author framed it as two paths Christians must choose between in order to bring God glory. One path was described as boldly speaking God’s truth regardless of consequences. The other was characterized as silence—teaching that calling out sin is unloving and therefore should be avoided. The first path was labeled “the wheat,” the second “the tares.”

What troubled me wasn’t the call to faithfulness to God’s truth. It was the spirit behind how easily we seem to label one another.

It genuinely hurts my heart to see how quickly many of us slip into contempt for sinners—sometimes for those outside the faith, but often for those inside it. We convince ourselves that loudly opposing what God calls wrong is always righteousness, even when it’s done without love, humility, or self-examination.

For context, I’m writing this as someone who is currently in a season of loving discipline. Old pain I thought I had dealt with resurfaced, and I ran as far from Jesus as I possibly could. Yet He did what He always does—He left the ninety-nine and came after the one. Again.

Jesus is absolutely about correction. He is the Word of God, and His Word corrects us. I am deeply grateful for that correction, because I misunderstand and misapply Scripture more often than I care to admit. Jesus also teaches that those who follow Him will bear fruit, and that we are to exercise discernment—righteous judgment—by examining that fruit.

But I want to suggest, carefully, that we may often misunderstand what fruit actually looks like.

If we lived in Jesus’ time, many of us would likely have pointed to the Pharisees as examples of spiritual maturity. They were disciplined, knowledgeable, morally serious, and visibly devoted to God. By outward standards, their fruit looked impressive. Yet when we read the Gospels, we see that Jesus reserved His harshest rebukes for them.

Why?

Because beneath their religious performance was pride, contempt, and a lack of love.

As humans—especially religious humans—we have an unsettling ability to use our moral convictions to place ourselves above others. We begin to see their failures as proof of our superiority. Sometimes we even feel justified in calling them “tares,” confident that Jesus would never tolerate such hypocrisy in those who truly seek Him.

But is it possible we’re wrong?

Not just theoretically wrong—but deeply, dangerously wrong?

The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience (or forbearance), kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These are not optional accessories to Christian faith; they are its evidence. When we follow Christ, these qualities should increasingly mark our lives.

The Pharisees, for all their zeal, did not display these fruits. That is how we know they were not aligned with God’s heart. Yet they were utterly convinced they were right. Even Jesus Himself confronted them directly, and they remained unreceptive.

That should give us pause.

When we correct our own lives, these fruits must be present. When we speak into the lives of others, they matter even more. If we find ourselves mocking, dismissing, or publicly shaming people who claim the name of Christ—especially when their failures are obvious—then we should first take a long, honest look at our own fruit.

Are we actually reflecting Christ?

Because if not, we may find ourselves on the receiving end of His discipline—and it would be deserved.

Take gentleness, for example. Of all the fruits of the Spirit, it may be one of the least practiced and most misunderstood. Gentleness is not weakness. It is strength under control, modeled perfectly by Jesus Himself.

Scripture repeatedly emphasizes this:

• “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).

• “Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near” (Philippians 4:5).

• “Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Colossians 3:12).

• “Be peaceable and considerate, and always be gentle toward everyone” (Titus 3:2).

• “I am gentle and humble in heart” (Matthew 11:29).

• “Give an answer for the hope you have, but do this with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15).

• “The Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone” (2 Timothy 2:24).

Yes, I’m fully aware that Jesus flipped tables and drove people out of the temple with a whip—one He intentionally took time to make. That moment mattered. He was confronting exploitation, corruption, and abuse happening in His Father’s house. His anger was protective, not performative. And praise God, He still confronts systems and leaders who harm His people.

But that moment should not be used as permission for everyday cruelty.

Right now, Scripture tells us we are still waiting for the full number of the Gentiles to come in. If that’s true—and I believe it is—then perhaps our time is better spent loving people into the Kingdom rather than trying to identify and uproot the “fakes.” God is fully capable of sorting wheat from tares without our hostility.

To be clear, this reflection is about followers of Christ speaking to one another—not about leaders in positions of power who abuse their authority. Scripture is clear that such leaders should be confronted publicly, and God will deal with their hearts.

What I long to see is a Church that looks like a family: a body committed to edification, sanctification, and loving discipline. A people who fight together—not against each other—so that every member feels supported in their calling. A Church that holds one another accountable in love, not pride, and that actively removes the stumbling blocks that tempt us away from Christ.

Truth matters. Holiness matters. But so does how we carry them.

And if our defense of righteousness costs us love, we may want to ask whether we are defending Christ—or merely ourselves.

An excellent blog post on the Fruits of the Spirit Stop Trying to Grow Fruit

A Fool, Nonetheless, Yet...

There are times in our lives—most of us, anyway—when we step outside of our true character. My prayer is that those moments are brief, and that regardless of how painful they may be, they become lessons that permanently alter the trajectory of our future choices.

I’ve been spending time reading about the prodigal son, his extravagantly loving father, and his elder brother. There is so much revealed about God’s mercy, grace, and heart in that story, but I’ll leave a deeper exploration of it to another blog linked here: Understanding the Heart of God.

The Bible says in Proverbs 26:11, “As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats their folly.” I’ve seen this verse play out in my own life more times than I care to admit, along with the pain that accompanies it. If I’m being transparent, I’m currently in the middle of trying to figure out how to stop walking in that cycle. No one wants to be a fool. I think that’s partly why we’re so quick to point out the errors of others—it reassures us that at least we aren’t failing in that particular way. Maybe that gives us comfort. Maybe it doesn’t. Just a thought.

For this blog entry, I want to focus on the fusion of two biblical passages: Luke 15:11–32 and Daniel 4. Both tell stories of the Lord graciously restoring clarity of mind after individuals made choices that took them outside of His will for their lives. Both men had serious issues, yet God blessed them. Not only did they lose nothing in the end, but they were blessed even more abundantly. I don’t believe either man was ever the same afterward. Their descent into destruction gave them a much-needed, permanently altered perspective on life.

One man, driven by entitlement, demanded his inheritance from his father and squandered it completely—only to come to his senses, return home with a plan of repentance, and be treated like royalty. The other, a king, lost his sanity and lived among animals, yet was later restored to his throne and became even greater than before. Neither story makes logical sense. Who holds themselves in such high esteem, is deeply humbled because of their own foolishness, and then ends up more blessed afterward?

It would be completely understandable for onlookers to feel angry that these men were rewarded after turning away from what was right. Why would God do such a thing? Some might argue that in the first story, the father made a mistake—but I disagree. In the second, it is undeniably the Lord who restores and blesses. And for the record, I agree that neither man deserved to be blessed. But that is precisely where so many of us miss the heart of our Father when we observe the lives and failures of others.

May we allow God to search our hearts and reveal the hidden wickedness within us, rather than focusing on the wickedness around us. It’s healthier for us in every way. No one gets away with anything in His kingdom—whether or not we witness the correction ourselves.

The Word of God assures us that the pain we experience in this life is not wasted, but is ultimately for His glory—glory we are invited to share if we remain in agreement with Him. This is explored more deeply in another blog linked here: Pain Is Not Wasted. I am grateful for the opportunity to live the life He has designed for me, which consistently proves to be far better than anything I could have imagined. My prayer is that we all come to feel the same.

But They Don't Deserve It

But they don't deserve it, God...

Haven’t we all thought that at some point?

What’s worse—we’re often right.

We watch people we don’t believe deserve blessing get blessed, and something in us recoils. In our hearts, offense quietly takes root. We compare. We calculate. We wonder why obedience seems overlooked while recklessness appears rewarded.

Just for the record, I live on both sides of that tension.

I don’t deserve to hear the Lord’s voice or to be led by His love—yet here I am, walking with the Great I AM. At the same time, I struggle when people who intentionally cause deep emotional pain to others appear to thrive. Call me human—because we all are.

Over the last few years, the Lord has repeatedly drawn me to Luke 18, particularly the parable of the unrighteous judge and the persevering widow (Luke 18:1–8). It’s tempting to read that passage and conclude that God is moved only by persistence—that if we are loud enough, relentless enough, or irritating enough, He will finally respond. Maybe that’s where the phrase “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” comes from.

But Jesus isn’t presenting God as an unrighteous judge.

In fact, He is doing the opposite.

God is not distant, annoyed, or unwilling. He is not withholding until we wear Him down. He literally gave His own life so that we could come boldly before His throne. We don’t need to pester Him into compassion—He is compassion.

Immediately after that parable, Jesus tells another story that reveals how we are meant to approach God at all.

Luke 18:9–14 (ESV)
He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt…

Two men pray. One is a Pharisee—outwardly righteous, disciplined, obedient, and confident in his standing before God. The other is a tax collector—someone who wouldn’t even lift his eyes to heaven, but simply cried out, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

Jesus tells us that the tax collector went home justified.

I don’t think we fully grasp how repulsive a tax collector would have been in Jesus’ day. This wasn’t like working for the IRS (no offense to anyone who does). These men worked for the oppressors of God’s people. They partnered with the enemy. They enriched themselves by stealing from their own community.

And yet, Jesus says that man—the one painfully aware of his sin—was justified rather than the Pharisee who checked every visible box of obedience.

Why?

Because God looks at the heart. And God alone searches it.

This is not a license to walk in sin as though it doesn’t matter. That is not the heart of this message at all. What this is about is something far more subtle—and far more dangerous.

It’s about becoming greedy with the kingdom of God.

It’s about becoming the elder brother in Luke 15, angry that the prodigal is welcomed home with celebration. We say we want sinners to repent—but only if they end up with less than we have. Only if their restoration doesn’t make our obedience feel insignificant.

When we think that way, we reveal something sobering: that perhaps our walk with God was never about submission to His will, but about earning blessing for ourselves.

God’s heart toward sinners is not reluctant—it is eager.
Not resentful—it is redemptive.
Not transactional—it is overflowing with mercy.

And when we struggle with that, it doesn’t mean God is wrong.
It means He’s inviting us deeper—into humility, into surrender, and into His heart.

Because in the kingdom of God, grace has never been fair.
And thank God for that.

Frustration, Favor, and the Finishing Work of Christ

Merry Christmas!

I’m well aware this is not the actual date of Jesus Christ’s birth—and honestly, I couldn’t care less. What matters is that He was born. He was God's Son, lived a life led by the Spirit of God, died for our sins while we were still His enemies, counted us as the joy set before Him, and was resurrected on the third day. That is what we celebrate.

Over the past year—probably longer if I’m being honest—I’ve been walking backward in my relationship with Christ. I encountered adversity I wasn’t prepared to handle, and instead of giving it to Him, I searched the world for comfort. I intentionally drove myself into confusion because I didn’t want the truth to be true. I thought if I ignored it long enough, it would go away, people would change their minds about me, and we could all be friends.

It doesn’t work that way.

That approach only keeps people and situations in your life far longer than they were ever meant to stay. And once you’ve allowed yourself to drift far enough from Him, finding your way back is harder than most people realize. For the last fifteen years, I’ve preached that you can simply turn back to Him—that He’s right there, ready to receive you, and that you can move forward from the place you wandered off.

I still believe that.
But I’ve learned there are nuances you don’t understand until you have to live them.

First, the place you think you wandered away from faith usually isn’t where you actually did.
Second, you have to allow the Lord to reveal what you never dealt with in the first place—because that’s often why you strayed.
Third, release the urge to tear yourself down. There are plenty of people willing to do that for you, and they don’t need your agreement. Self-condemnation only slows the process.
Fourth, any justification you make for staying where you are isn’t really a justification—it’s an excuse that keeps you stuck.
Fifth, God’s favor is often found most clearly in the places you least deserve it, sometimes even more than in the seasons where you were actively expressing His love and truth.
Sixth, continue to speak truth over yourself and your circumstances regardless of outcomes. This is where faith is tested.
And finally, forgive yourself and come back. You may never receive compassion from the people you want it from most—and that’s okay. Some people’s pain prevents them from seeing you differently, and you can’t change that. Let them.

I am highly favored, deeply frustrated (and probably frustrating), and walking in the finished work of Christ. I’m grateful for what I’ve learned through years of studying the Word, and now I’m realizing how necessary it is to apply it. I feel stuck—but feelings lie.

My prayer is that those of us who believe our circumstances are nothing more than the irreversible consequences of our choices would begin declaring the truth of God’s Word over our lives. It may take time—especially if the choices that led us astray didn’t happen overnight—but we will return to where He desires us to be.

The Lord cares more about His glory than we do. So if it’s truly our heart to glorify Him, we can trust Him to lead us there. I’m not promising it will be easy, attractive, or unfold the way you hoped—but it will glorify Him. And that is what matters most.

Be blessed, and be a blessing. ❤️

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

‘Actions speak louder than words’ is a well known saying, and for the most part,

true. However, I've come to realize that discernment is still necessary.

People can smile in your face, yet can vilify you behind your back. People might

help you only to feel good about themselves, while still being judgmental. This is

why it's so important to ask the Lord to search our hearts in order to reveal any

wickedness, lest we do this to others.

The Lord loves answering those prayers. It's the human condition to want to feel

good about ourselves, but it's the sin nature to judge and compare ourselves.

Here's the thing though. We are all on a sea of glass, and no one is better than

another. Yes, there are people I would rather not associate with, and wouldn't

shed a tear if they never came to know God, but that's the sin nature in me, not

God's heart. I guess that's what being "normal" is, but children of God are called

to more, to much more.

In this life, all we can hope for is that God purifies our hearts so we stand before

Him sanctified. Humans will always accuse and hurl attacks towards others, and

many times it will be towards people we care for very much. We must forgive

them for their accusations and not hold it against them, or else we participate in

sin ourselves and step out of the divine transformation of our hearts that we've

been called to.

Some of us are pretty strange birds, and that's part of the beauty of life. There's

a whole internet world of cookie cutter families posting their lives in hopes of

gaining followers who want to mimic every move. There is nothing wrong with

taking things we respect or admire, and making them part of ourselves. I just

hope we are allowing the Lord to have His input on those characteristics.

The painful lesson I'm learning this season is to embrace who I am, and to not

hold it against those that don't want to understand or embrace me. Being

someone who tries to understand everything about everyone, is challenging for

me. I want to relate with people who do not care to delve deeper into my life or to

have compassion and understand me. But, I've come to accept that's probably

how they're wired, and I'm just as confusing to them.

We all have issues. There's no way around accepting that. For example, as

much as I'm trying to not be addicted to my phone, I found a social media reel

that helped me to better understand rejection, while the Lord was working a deep

transformation in my heart.

The reel was a mama and her son. She held various items in her hand and

asked her son to pick one. He did, and she immediately asked what was wrong

with the other items, and he responded "Nothing." That's applicable to us as

well. Just because we weren't picked doesn't mean there's anything wrong with

us, we just weren't chosen.

If I go to buy myself flowers, and I leave with a stargazer lily, it doesn't mean I

also don't love the rose, or the tulips, the carnations, or even the baby's breath. It

just means the stargazer lily is what spoke to my heart that day. I want to apply

that to my everyday interactions. We like to think if someone or something isn't

chosen, that something else was actually better, when that's not always the

case. And quite possibly, rarely the case.

I am grateful that the Lord has allowed this last season of personal rejection

because it's helped me to come to terms with the truth that His love is enough.

I've always said it, but I've never walked it. And if we're going to be brutally

honest, I'm still not walking in it.

We all have a wall we use to protect ourselves from pain, despite pain being

necessary for character development. We can't protect ourselves from others,

and also grow to the stature that the Lord desires. He will protect us, He will lead

us, He will love us, and He will heal us.

We protect ourselves by immersing our hearts in Him, and then listening to His

still and quiet voice, no matter what our flesh desires or our mind says.

God is all about exposing, but He exposes for purpose and redemption. All

hidden things will become known and that's a good thing for those that want to

know Him. The less the enemy can hold over us, the less ability he has to make

us into his personal marionettes.

It's not hard to manipulate people, but it's ugly as heck to do so. Release the

need to control, and put it in God's hands, for He makes all things new in His

timing. We want clean hands and a pure heart to pursue the MORE of Him, and

this is the season He wants to pour it out.

We need not be concerned that the darkness keeps spreading, for His kingdom

and its light are doing the same. Change your focus. God's love is our priority,

we must feed upon it, for it's only in doing so that we can know who we are, and

what He's called us to.

If not, we become like worker bees, and yes we're doing what we should, but it's

almost robotic and we were called to so much more.

I'm not sure if this will even make sense to most, but it marks a very important

stage in my life, and ultimately that's what this blog is for. I had thought I was

helping others, when in reality, I was keeping a journal that would help me. We

only know what we know, and we all know it partly. The body of Christ is coming

into its fullness, and I'm grateful that I'm allowed to be a part of that, even in my

struggle to understand all things. Be blessed and be a blessing <3

Humble Pie

This post has taken me 2.5 months to write. Most likely because I'm still in the process of the humbling, but I'm going to try and put down this season into words so I have a quasi-account of it. 

Humble Pie was both the best and worst meal I've ever ingested.  It is the best solely because it has allowed me to see things I was previously blind to.  It is simultaneously the worst because it has turned my entire world upside down and inside out, for all to point fingers and assign blame, the exact same way I was doing but blind to. 

I am so very grateful for the body of Christ that truly loves like Jesus loves, and made room for me in my sin, to come back and look again to our perfect Father in heaven, and seek Him through His Son, Jesus Christ once more. I've had strangers reach out to me and extend love through action, while others have done nothing but hurl metaphorical daggers. Mind you, daggers I deserve, even if the hurlers are only partially correct in their reasoning. This season of wilderness allowed me to see what I was hiding from myself, and I needed it even though I did not want it. 

The crazy part is that the Lord knew I would fall hard, and then turn from him and run back to familiar coping mechanisms. He knew I didn't know Him enough to lean on Him through the realization of my failures, and that I would get mentally caught in a rut, spiraling downwards. He knew that while others tested me, I would rebel out of spite, even to my own detriment. He also knew that I really did love Him, and that my behavior was a reflection of my mindset, not my heart. He's put the most beautiful people in my life to lift me back up. I've learned how important it is to deal with emotional pain, and not walk on eggshells for others. More importantly, I've learned to not isolate and deal with things myself.  If your friends can't be inconvenienced to show up for your emotional pain, what does it matter if they show up for the celebrations?

My mindset is only slightly better than it was for my last post, but I now have hope and can see much more clearly that His plans and purposes are to bless me, and not curse me, even if I don't deserve it. He loves us even while we're enemies, how much more does He move mountains for us when we're not but we still hurt His heart?  Lord strengthen me for whatever comes, that I may reflect your love, and not my pain.