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John 18:37 – “In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

Hebrews 13:8 – “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”

When Jesus told Pilate that He came to testify to the truth, He wasn’t speaking of shifting opinions or cultural trends. He was declaring an eternal reality. The truth He spoke then is the truth that remains now. Human voices may question it, crowds may deny it, soldiers may mock it – but truth is unchanging because it is rooted in the eternal Christ.

Philosophers through the centuries have wrestled with truth. Some, like Plato, taught that truth must exist beyond the shadows of perception. Others, like Aristotle, insisted truth is that which corresponds to reality. Their words point to something deeper: truth cannot be reinvented; it must be discovered. And Scripture shows us that truth is not only discovered – it is revealed in the person of Jesus.

Science, too, gives us echoes of this. The laws of gravity don’t rewrite themselves each century. Water still cycles from evaporation to rain, just as Job observed millennia ago. DNA carries the same code of life in every generation. Creation reminds us that what is true in God’s design does not change with time.

In a world of shifting headlines, evolving philosophies, and fleeting trends, the words of Hebrews anchor us: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” That means the truth He revealed to Pilate is the truth we can cling to today, and the truth that will outlast every power, every empire, and every doubt.

Truth is unchanging because it comes from the One who never changes.

Let’s pray-

Lord, You are the same yesterday, today, and forever. Thank You that Your truth does not shift with culture or crumble under time. Help me to stand on Your unchanging Word with courage and faith, trusting that what You spoke then is still true now. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?” They shouted back, ‘No, not him! Give us Barabbas!’ Now Barabbas had taken part in an uprising.” – John 18:39–40

Pilate offers the crowd a choice between Jesus and Barabbas, between the innocent Son of God and a guilty rebel. It should have been an easy decision. Truth Himself stood before them. But the voices of the mob drowned out the clarity of conscience. The people chose Barabbas.

The tragedy here is more than historical-it is deeply human. We, too, face moments when we must choose between Christ and compromise. Between truth and convenience. Between obedience and rebellion. And too often, like the crowd, we deny truth in order to preserve comfort or avoid conflict.

Barabbas represents the quick fix, the revolutionary with a sword, the one who promises change through force. Jesus represents the slow, self-giving truth of God’s kingdom. The crowd chose the shortcut over the Savior. We do the same when we seek immediate relief over eternal redemption.

This moment is also a profound exchange of grace. Barabbas deserved the cross, but Jesus took his place. The guilty went free while the innocent was condemned. In that sense, we are all Barabbas. We are the ones set free because Jesus bore our penalty. What the crowd saw as a rejection was actually the stage for redemption.

Truth does not vanish when denied. It remains, steady and unchanging, even when the crowd shouts against it. The question for us is: when the world raises its voice, will we stand with the mob-or with the Messiah?

Let’s pray:

Heavenly Father, I confess the times I have denied You by choosing the easy way instead of the true way. Thank You for taking my place, as You did for Barabbas, and setting me free by Your sacrifice. Give me courage to stand for truth even when the crowd shouts against it. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“‘You are a king, then!’ said Pilate. Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.’ ‘What is truth?’ retorted Pilate.” – John 18:37–38

Pilate, the Roman governor, finds himself face-to-face with Jesus, who has been accused, beaten, and handed over by His own people. In a moment of history that echoes across centuries, Pilate asks a question that every human heart eventually wrestles with: “What is truth?”

This wasn’t just a question of philosophy-it was a question of eternity. Standing before Pilate was not merely a man, but the embodiment of truth itself (John 14:6). Yet Pilate, blinded by politics, pressure, and his own pragmatism, could not see it.

The irony in this moment is striking. Truth is not abstract. Truth is not a set of shifting opinions. Truth was standing there, bound in chains, appearing powerless yet carrying ultimate authority. Pilate thought he was the judge, but in reality, he was the one being judged by his response to Jesus. That same tension remains for us today. Truth often looks weak in a world that prizes power. Truth seems small in a culture drowning in competing narratives. Yet truth is not up for a vote. It is a person. And His name is Jesus.

Pilate walked away from the question without waiting for the answer. How often do we do the same? We’re too busy, too distracted, or too afraid of the cost of truth. But Jesus’ invitation still stands: “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.” The question isn’t whether truth exists-it does. The question is whether we will recognize it and align our lives with it. Will we stand on the side of truth, even when it costs us something?

Let’s pray:

Lord Jesus, You are the way, the truth, and the life. Forgive me for the times I have walked away from Your voice. Help me to not only hear Your truth but to live it out courageously, even when it costs me. May I be found on the side of truth, with You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

“By faith Moses’ parents hid him for three months after he was born, because they saw he was no ordinary child, and they were not afraid of the king’s edict. By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible. By faith he kept the Passover and the application of blood, so that the destroyer of the firstborn would not touch the firstborn of Israel. By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as on dry land; but when the Egyptians tried to do so, they were drowned.” – Hebrews 11:23–29

Moses’ life shows us that faith has two movements: it refuses and it chooses. Faith refuses the easy path when it means compromise, and it chooses the harder path when it means obedience.

Moses refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. He refused the treasures and privileges of Egypt. He refused the fleeting pleasures of sin. In the same moment, he chose to identify with God’s people. He chose mistreatment over indulgence. He chose disgrace over luxury. His eyes were not fixed on the palace but on the reward of God. Faith always trades the temporary for the eternal.

Moses also shows us that faith sees the invisible. He left Egypt, not fearing Pharaoh’s wrath, because he had his eyes fixed on God. Faith strengthens perseverance when human eyes see nothing, because faith sees the unseen.

Finally, Moses demonstrates that faith obeys God’s strange commands. By faith, he kept the Passover, sprinkling lamb’s blood on doorframes, trusting that God’s promise would hold. By faith, he led the people through the Red Sea, stepping into waters that would split for them but swallow their enemies. Faith doesn’t need to know how; it just needs to obey who.

Moses’ faith, and the faith of his parents before him, reminds us that living by faith often means refusing what looks safe, choosing what looks costly, and trusting what looks unseen.

Let’s pray-

Lord, give me the courage to refuse what is fleeting and to choose what is eternal. Help me to value Your reward above the treasures of this world. Fix my eyes on what cannot be seen so that I can endure what feels unbearable. Teach me to obey even when Your commands don’t make sense to my human mind, trusting that Your word never fails. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as on dry land; but when the Egyptians tried to do so, they were drowned. By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the army had marched around them for seven days. By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.” Hebrews 11:29-31

Faith moves in directions. Sometimes it takes us through. Sometimes it brings things down. Sometimes it lifts us up. In these three verses, the writer of Hebrews shows us what faith can do when God directs the journey.

Faith goes through.

Israel stood trapped between water and an army, but by faith they passed through the Red Sea on dry ground. Faith doesn’t always remove the obstacle-it makes a way through it. What drowns others becomes a passage for God’s people.

Faith brings down.

At Jericho, God commanded Israel to march, to shout, and to trust. No battering rams, no siege engines, no strategy of men-just obedience. And the walls fell down. Faith topples what seems immovable, not by human strength, but by God’s power.

Faith goes up.

Rahab, a woman on the margins, believed God’s promise and hid the spies on her roof. She went up to protect them and in doing so was lifted up into God’s story of redemption. Faith lifts us from our past, from shame, from the judgment of the city, and sets us in the lineage of promise.

The directions of faith are clear: through the waters, down come the walls, up goes the redeemed. Faith is not static-it moves. It moves us where human effort cannot, and it proves that when God calls, no barrier is final.

Let’s pray:

Lord, lead me in the directions of faith. Take me through what feels impossible, bring down the walls that block me, and lift me up into Your purpose. Teach me to walk by faith, not by sight, and to trust that what drowns others can carry me through, what stands tall against me will fall, and what feels like shame can be transformed into testimony. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Suffering Is Not the End

“Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted, mistreated.” – Hebrews 11:36–37

As I write this, our news is heavy: two school shootings and a targeted assassination all on the same day, Wednesday-September 10, 2025. Innocents wounded, communities shaken, grief spreading afresh. It’s easy to look at the Bible and think, faith will protect me from this kind of violence. But time and again, Scripture and today’s headlines reminds us: faith does not promise freedom from suffering.

The names change. The places change. But the pattern is the same. Some believers have been flogged, some imprisoned. Some have been killed for their stand. Jesus Himself warned: “They will persecute you… you will be hated… for my name’s sake.” (John 15:20)

Yet, painfully, powerfully-Scripture also insists suffering is not defeat. Not for those who live by faith. The heroes in Hebrews pressed on. Even when the darkness around them was real. Even when they could see no rescue.

From those stories we learn three truths for this time:

Violence is real.

It arrives not just in ancient times, but in our schools, our streets, at events. It violates, injures, and sometimes kills. But neither Scripture nor today’s pain are silent about it.

Faith may suffer—but it does not surrender.

Faith doesn’t always avoid the cross. Sometimes faith carries it. Faith stays stitched to hope even when the skin is broken, even when news headlines hurt, even when there is no obvious rescue.

Violence is not the end.

Hebrews 11 ends not with smoke and blood but with a great cloud of witnesses, with promises, with the assurance that God sees, God remembers, and God will make all things new. The story didn’t finish at the cross-it continued with resurrection. The promise didn’t expire in the tomb.

Let’s pray-

Lord, today we pray with heavy hearts. For lives broken by violence. For families mourning. For communities wounded. We confess we often expect faith to mean safety, only to find violence where we hoped for peace. Yet we choose to believe You are still God. You have promised that suffering is not the end for those who walk by faith.
Strengthen us to stand when fear beckons, to speak Your truth when silence is easier, to live in hope when the future looks grim. Help us trust that even the night You redeem, even tragedy You will see, even when death seems final-You are making a way. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had embraced the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, ‘It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.’ Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead, and so in a manner of speaking he did receive Isaac back from death.” – Hebrews 11:17–19

Faith does not need explanation. If Abraham demanded an explanation, he never would have climbed Mount Moriah. How could the God who promised descendants through Isaac also ask for Isaac’s life? From the human perspective, the test and the promise could not coexist. Yet faith does not live on explanations. Faith lives on expectation-expectation that God will always keep His word, even if He must raise the dead to do it.

Abraham had learned over time that God’s word was unshakable. He trusted the Giver more than the gift. Isaac was the child of promise, but the promise was greater than Isaac. Abraham lifted the knife not because he understood, but because he expected God to provide, to deliver, to resurrect if necessary. Faith did not demand an answer-it demands an amen!

And in that moment, God revealed Himself as the One who provides. Isaac was spared, and Abraham received him back “as though from the dead.” This was more than a test; it was a foreshadowing. Centuries later, another Son would walk up another mountain carrying wood on His back. But this time there would be no ram in the thicket, no angel to intervene. God did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all-then raised Him from the dead, proving that expectation in God is never misplaced.

For us, the lesson is the same. Faith will face altars. We will be asked to surrender what we hold dear. Explanations will not always come. But expectation remains-expectation that God cannot fail His promise, that He can bring life from death, that His word is stronger than our understanding.

Faith does not need explanation. Faith just needs expectation.

Let’s pray-

Lord, help me to live like Abraham, trusting You when explanations are absent. Give me the courage to lay my treasures on the altar, believing that You are faithful to provide and powerful to raise. Teach me to cling not to what I see but to who You are. May my faith not rest in human logic but in divine expectation. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Hebrews 11:8 – “By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.”

Faith is not only about leaving something behind; it is about pressing forward into what God has promised. Abraham shows us this truth. He left Ur at the call of God-not because he had a full map, but because he had a word. He did not know the destination, but he trusted the Caller. Faith was not just his departure from what was familiar, but his direction toward what was eternal.

But there are dangers when we confuse leaving with following. Lot’s wife is the warning. When God delivered her from Sodom, her body departed, but her heart remained. And either for curiosity or compassion she turned back, Luke 17:32 simply says, “Remember Lot’s wife.” Her glance backward turned into a posture of unbelief. She left, but she was not focused forward.

Jesus sharpened this truth in Luke 9:62: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” Faith requires forward vision. The plow only cuts straight lines when the eyes are fixed ahead. Looking backward makes the rows crooked. In the same way, a heart divided between past and future is unsteady in the kingdom, not in the right shape.

Israel in the wilderness gives us another example. God delivered them from Egypt with mighty signs, yet their constant longing was to go back-to the food, to the familiarity, even to their slavery. Their bodies had departed Egypt, but their direction was still backward. That backward glance cost a generation the promise of entering Canaan.

Faith is not nostalgia. It does not live off yesterday’s victories or long for yesterday’s comforts. Faith remembers God’s faithfulness, but it leans into God’s future. Abraham pitched his tents but kept looking forward to a city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.

Faith is departure, but it is also direction. It leaves the past, but more importantly, it follows God forward.

Let’s pray-

Lord, help me to live like Abraham-willing to leave the familiar and step forward into what I cannot yet see. Guard me from the temptation of Lot’s wife, from looking back when You have called me on. Keep my hands steady on the plow, my eyes fixed forward, and my heart anchored in Your promise. May my faith not just leave the past but lean toward the city with foundations that You are building. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Hebrews 11:8-10

When Hebrews 11:10 says Abraham was “looking forward” (NIV) to the city with foundations, it highlights something vital about faith: it always leans into what’s ahead. Abraham had left Ur, left Haran, left the comforts and familiar gods of his father’s household, but he didn’t only leave-he was moving toward. Faith is not just departure, it is direction.

The past can strengthen faith. David remembered the lion and the bear before he faced Goliath. Israel was told to recall the Red Sea when facing new battles. You and I are called to “forget not all His benefits” (Psalm 103:2). Recalling the past builds confidence. But faith is not sustained by nostalgia. Faith always has its eyes fixed forward. Abraham could remember God’s call, but his heart was set toward the city God promised.

Faith does not look backward for permission; it looks forward for fulfillment. That’s why Jesus said, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Abraham teaches us this posture: even while dwelling in tents, even while surrounded by the instability of wilderness, he fixed his vision on the stability of God’s city.

So faith remembers, but it also anticipates. It recalls the faithfulness of God in yesterday’s victories, but it presses forward to tomorrow’s fulfillment. And when the present feels like tents-fragile, temporary, shifting-we can take courage that faith is looking forward to a city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.

Let’s pray- Lord, teach me to walk in Abraham’s footsteps of faith. Help me to remember Your goodness in the past without clinging to it, and to keep my eyes forward to the promises You have prepared. When I feel the fragility of my present circumstances, remind me that You are building something eternal and unshakable. Give me the courage to take steps without a map, trusting that Your hand is guiding me toward Your city with foundations. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

The Weather or the Word
Scripture: Genesis 6:13-14; Genesis 8:15-16; Hebrews 11:7

When God told Noah to build an ark, the skies were clear. There was no wind, no drizzle, no sign of a storm. If Noah had judged by the weather, he never would have started. But Noah didn’t build based on the forecast-he built based on the Word.

Hebrews 11:7 says, “By faith Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark…” The “things not seen” meant no clouds, no floodwaters, no visible reason to start cutting wood. But Noah moved anyway, because God had spoken.

The truth is, the weather will rarely give you confirmation to start and almost always give you every temptation to quit. The skies will be clear when God calls you to build, and they may look peaceful long before He calls you to move on. The environment can deceive you into hesitation or premature action-but God’s Word will never mislead you.

We see this again at the end of the flood. After 40 days of rain, the skies cleared. The sun returned. By sight, the storm was over. If Noah had judged by the weather, he would have opened the door. But he stayed inside until Genesis 8:15-16, when God finally said, “Go forth of the ark.”

Faith means living by the Word, not the weather. The weather changes-it can look threatening when God calls you forward, and it can look peaceful before the ground is ready. The Word doesn’t change. God’s instruction remains steady whether skies are clear or storming.

It’s tempting to act when circumstances seem favorable, and to hesitate when they don’t. But Noah’s example tells us the opposite: act when God speaks, even if the environment disagrees-and wait when God has not yet spoken, even if the environment looks good.

No matter what’s happening in your life today, remember, the weather will change. Let’s pray-

Lord, teach me to hear Your Word above the winds of circumstance. Help me obey when skies are clear and wait when skies are bright but You have not yet spoken. Make my heart steady, not swayed by the forecast, but anchored in Your unchanging truth. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Staying After the Storm Genesis 7:11, Genesis 8:13–16

By the time Noah and his family stepped out of the ark, they had been inside for 370 days-a full year and ten days. Yet it only rained for 40 days and 40 nights. That means they spent more than 300 days inside the ark after the rain stopped.

Think about that. The rain ceased, the pounding on the roof quieted, the skies cleared-yet the door stayed shut.

If you were Noah, wouldn’t you have thought, “Surely now we can leave”? The storm was over. The worst had passed. The world was quiet. But God kept them waiting.

The ark would not have been a sweet-smelling refuge . It was crowded with animals—bleating, roaring, squawking. The air was thick with the stench of manure. Animals were giving birth. Food had to be stored, prepared, and rationed. Waste had to be managed. Day after day, week after week, month after month-the ark was messy.

Noah and his family lived in a floating zoo, sealed under a covering, waiting on a word from God.

And maybe that’s the hardest kind of faith. After all there’s faith to:
Build the ark.
Faith to get in the ark
Faith to survive the storm.

But then there is the faith to sit in the mess when the storm is already over, waiting for God to say, “Now.”

We often think deliverance means an instant escape. We want out as soon as the pressure eases. As soon as the skies clear, we reach for the door. But God sometimes keeps us in the mess longer than we want to be-not because He’s cruel, but because He’s preparing us and He’s preparing the ground we’ll walk on.

The earth had to dry. The mud had to settle. New life had to sprout. If Noah had walked out too early, he would have stepped into chaos, not covenant.

And notice this: the covering stayed on until the day Noah removed it (Genesis 8:13), and even then, he didn’t leave until God spoke:

“And God spake unto Noah, saying, Go forth of the ark…” (Genesis 8:15–16)

Noah’s faith wasn’t just in building or surviving. His faith was in waiting—waiting for God’s word, not just the weather.

Maybe you’re there right now. The worst seems over, but you’re still in the ark. Still in the mess. Still waiting for the door to open.

Don’t despise the delay. God may be drying the ground beneath you. He may be preparing a place for you to stand firm. He may be shaping your heart so that when you step out, you don’t just survive-you start fresh.

The rain may have stopped, but the waiting is holy. And when God finally says, “Come out,” you’ll know the ground is ready.

Lord, teach me to wait in the ark. When the mess feels overwhelming and the silence feels heavy, remind me that You are preparing me and preparing my future. Give me the faith to trust not the weather, but Your word. And when You say, “Come out,” may I step into the new ground You have made ready for me. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“By faith Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark to the saving of his house”…Hebrews 11:7 (KJV)

Faith doesn’t just help you survive the storm.

It prepares you before it comes.

Faith builds what today doesn’t require—but tomorrow will.

When Noah built the ark, it wasn’t raining.

There was no flood. No clouds. No sign.

But God gave him a word, and Noah obeyed.

He didn’t just survive the flood—he was ready for it.

Because that’s what walking by faith does.

1. Walking in faith builds experience for battles you haven’t fought yet.

Before David ever stood before Goliath, he stood in front of a lion. Then a bear.

He learned to trust God in private, long before he was victorious in public.

The stones in David’s pouch weren’t random—they were backed by the weight of experience, formed through a history of faithfulness.

When you walk with God now, in the ordinary battles, you’re preparing for future giants. What feels small today is training ground for something greater tomorrow.

2. Walking in faith builds character for callings you haven’t stepped into yet.

Nehemiah wasn’t a builder when we first meet him—he was a cupbearer.

A glorified waiter. But in that role, he learned how to serve without being seen, How to risk his life daily for someone else’s benefit. That selflessness became the character foundation that God would use to rebuild an entire city.

Faithful waiting shaped him into a trusted leader.

You don’t get to choose when the doors open,

but you can choose the kind of person you’ll be when they do.

Faith builds that character—before the calling ever comes.

3. Walking in faith builds habits for environments you haven’t entered yet.

When we first meet Joseph, he’s impulsive—telling his brothers everything. Dreams, visions, interpretations—he had the gift, but not the restraint.

But by the time he’s in the palace, he’s different.

He listens more. Speaks less. Waits longer. He doesn’t even reveal himself to his brothers right away—he discerns the moment.

That growth didn’t happen overnight. Faith shaped his habits in dungeons and detours, so that when the throne came, he was ready to handle it.

Your habits of faith today—prayer, restraint, humility, service—they’re not just for now. They’re preparing you for an environment you can’t see yet.

And then there’s Noah.

While the mockers mocked,

While the diners dined,

Noah measured.

Marked.

Cut.

Refined.

Noah built by faith—

not for a world that was,

but for a world that was coming.

His hands obeyed what his eyes couldn’t see.

And when the rain came, what he had built in silence saved his family.

Lord, help me walk by faith, even when I don’t see the need yet.

Build in me the strength for future battles, the character for future callings, and the habits for future doors.

Let me be like Noah—faithful when no one else understands, obedient when no one else believes, and prepared for what no one else sees. While the world mocks, let me measure. While others feast, let me refine.

May I build what the future will require. In Jesus’ name, amen.