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By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; and was not found, because God had translated him: for before his translation he had this testimony, that he pleased God. – Hebrews 11:5 (KJV)

The story of Enoch in Hebrews 11:5 is brief but profound. In a single verse, we’re told he “was not found” because “God took him.” He didn’t die. He just… disappeared from human sight.

Enoch’s story reminds us that faith is not just about believing the right things—it’s about walking the right walk.

It’s not a sprint. It’s not a theological debate. It’s a step-by-step journey of trust, alignment, and closeness with God.

Genesis 5:24: “And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.”

This verse hints at disconnection from the visible, measurable world.

In a practical sense, it means this:

Enoch didn’t live rooted in what everyone else was chasing.

He wasn’t “found” in worldly systems, ambitions, or distractions.

He was spiritually removed long before he was physically removed.

Today, many of us are trying to be “found”—in careers, platforms, opinions, trends. But what if our greatest testimony is that we were so intimately aligned with God, the world didn’t quite know what to do with us?

Enoch’s faith was not just belief—it was action, it was motion. His daily walk with God was likely filled with:

Moments of worship

Acts of obedience

Conversations with the unseen

Loneliness from the crowd

Closeness with the Creator

The walk of faith often means being out of step with the world to be in step with God.

If you’re in a season where you feel disconnected—not quite fitting in, not quite celebrated, not quite “found”—you’re in good company. That’s how Enoch lived. And it’s how many of God’s people live when they prioritize divine approval over public recognition.

Disconnection from the world can actually be a sign of connection with heaven.

Are we more concerned with being “found” by the world or walking closely with God?

What practical steps can we take today to “walk” with God—not just believe in Him?

When life feels isolating or disconnected, can we see that as a possible gift of intimacy with God?

Let’s pray

– Lord, teach me to walk with You—not just in belief, but action-in step-by-step trust. Let my life echo Enoch’s—not loud, but faithful. When I feel disconnected from the world, remind me that You are near. I want to live in a way that pleases You, whether or not I’m “found” by anyone else. And one day, when the walk is done, take me home. In Jesus’ name, amen.

By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts: and by it he being dead yet speaketh. – Hebrews 11:4 (KJV)

And in process of time it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his offering: But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect…- Genesis 4:3–5 (KJV)

From the earliest pages of Scripture, we see a theme that stretches through eternity: how we worship matters. Abel and Cain both brought offerings to God, but the outcomes were radically different—God “had respect” to Abel’s offering, but not to Cain’s. Hebrews 11:4 tells us why: Abel offered his sacrifice by faith.

The word in Hebrews 11:4 translated “offered” is προσφέρω (prosphérō) in Greek. It means “to bring to, to present, to offer up.” It’s a sacrificial term, used often in the context of bringing something to the altar—not casually, but reverently and intentionally. This word ties into the Old Testament sacrificial system, suggesting that Abel’s worship wasn’t accidental or spontaneous; it was purposeful and patterned.

But how did Abel know what to offer? The Genesis account doesn’t say that God gave explicit instructions—at least not in words we can read. But we must consider this: Adam and Eve had received garments of skin from God after the Fall (Genesis 3:21). That implies a sacrifice had already occurred—God Himself modeled bloodshed as the covering for sin. Abel, likely taught by his parents, understood that an acceptable offering to a holy God involves the shedding of blood.

Abel brought the firstlings—the first and best of his flock—and their fat portions, which were considered the richest and most honoring part in the later Levitical system. Cain, on the other hand, brought “an offering” of the fruit of the ground, but there is no mention of firstfruits or quality. It was likely convenient, not costly.

So what made Abel’s offering better?

-It was by faith.
Abel trusted God’s unseen pattern for atonement, and acted on it!

-It was sacrificial and costly.

-The first and best.
It was aligned with God’s revealed pattern

-It was worship.
Not just a gift, but a reverent approach to God.

Hebrews 11:4 adds a profound truth: Abel’s faith still speaks. Though he died at the hands of his brother, his act of worship remains a testimony. It’s as if every time someone offers God their best in faith, Abel’s voice is heard again, saying, “This is how you honor God.”

Questions to Ponder:

What am I offering to God today—my leftovers or my first and best?

Does my worship align with God’s heart and truth, or just my preferences?

Am I willing to trust God’s invisible patterns even when others around me don’t?

Father, help me bring You the offering of faith. I don’t want to go through motions. I want to worship You in a way that honors Your holiness and responds to Your grace. Let my life echo like Abel’s—still speaking truth, still honoring You, even when no one sees. Teach me to bring not just anything, but the offering You desire. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Mark 5:22-24, 35-43     “Then one of the synagogue leaders, named Jairus, came, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. He pleaded earnestly with Him, ‘My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.’ So Jesus went with him.” – Mark 5:22–24a (NIV)

On this Father’s Day, we honor not just the role of fathers—but the faith of fathers. In Mark 5, we encounter a father named Jairus, a synagogue leader—a man of status, responsibility, and knowledge. Yet when crisis hit his home, none of those things could save his little girl. Only faith could.

A Father Who Kneels

Jairus didn’t come to Jesus with pride—he came with desperation. He fell at Jesus’ feet. His position didn’t matter. His dignity didn’t matter. What mattered was his daughter. Dads, sometimes the most powerful thing we can do for our children is fall to our knees. Prayer isn’t weakness—it’s a faith action. And God honors a father who humbles himself in faith.

A Father Who Believes Beyond

the news While Jesus was on His way to Jairus’ home, word came: “Your daughter is dead.” (v.35) But Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” (v.36)

Faith often demands that we believe beyond the “news”. There may be addiction. There may be distance in a relationship. There may be a diagnosis. But faith keeps walking with the One who says, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

For me, this is one of the most powerful moments- remember, faith is a belief with a corresponding action. In spite of the news of his daughter’s death, Jairus keeps walking with Jesus!

A Father Who Brings Jesus Home

Jairus didn’t just want a miracle—he wanted Jesus in his house. That’s what changed everything. “He took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Little girl, I say to you, get up!’” (v.41) And she did.

Fathers, your home needs Jesus. Your family needs your faith. Jairus’ daughter wasn’t raised because Jairus had power—but because he brought Jesus close.

Some questions to ponder:

Where do I need to fall at Jesus’ feet on behalf of my family?

What “facts” am I facing that Jesus is asking me to believe beyond? Have I truly invited Jesus into my home—not just my heart?

Let’s pray- Lord, thank You for the example of Jairus. On this Father’s Day, strengthen the faith of every father and spiritual father. Help us to fall at Your feet, to believe beyond what we see, and to bring You into every corner of our homes. Let our faith pave the way for miracles in our families. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Scripture: Hebrews 11:1–3 (KJV)

1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

2 For by it the elders obtained a good report.

3 Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.

When we open Hebrews 11, we are immediately invited into a holy definition of faith—not as mere belief, but as substance and evidence. Verse 1 gives us both a definition (what faith is) and a description (how it behaves). Faith is the tangible grip on what we hope for and the invisible proof of what we cannot yet see.

In verse 2, we see this kind of faith in motion: the elders—Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and others—lived by it. Their faith was not theoretical. It was active, daring, sacrificial. It caused heaven to give a testimony about them. “By it, the elders obtained a good report.” Their lives bore witness to a faith that works.

But then comes the staggering thought of verse 3, “Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God…”

Wait—God used faith?
Not because He needs to believe like we do, but because He chose to operate through faith, so that we would know this is the very fabric of how the universe works. Faith is not a crutch; it is a creative force, a framing tool, a structuring principle. The word “framed” here (Greek: katartizo) means to arrange, set in order, equip, or complete. It is the same word used in other parts of Scripture to describe restoring, mending, and building.

In other words, God built the world the same way He invites you to build yours—by faith.

Your Personal World Has a Frame Too:

God not only framed the world; He’s teaching you how to frame your world. He framed:

Boundaries of land and sea

Seasons and rhythms of life

Light and darkness

Provision and purpose

So too, your personal world is not meant to be chaotic, undefined, or reactive. It is meant to be framed by the Word of God through faith:

Your relationships can be framed by forgiveness and covenant love

Your finances can be framed by stewardship and generosity

Your identity can be framed by grace, not guilt

Your future can be framed by trust, not fear

If faith is how God brought order to the universe, then faith is how you bring divine order to your life.

What part of your life currently feels “formless” or “void”?

What has God spoken about that area through His Word?

How can you begin to frame that part of your world by faith, using His Word as the blueprint?

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for giving me not just a definition of faith, but a demonstration of it. You used faith to frame the very world I live in. Help me to frame my life, my choices, and my future with the same trust in Your Word. Where there is chaos, bring order. Where there is fear, let faith rise. I believe that just as You spoke the universe into existence, You are speaking over my life even now. Teach me to build like You build. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” —Hebrews 11:1 (KJV)

Faith is more than a feeling. It is not blind optimism or emotional hype. According to Hebrews 11:1, faith is both substance and evidence—and both terms are full of meaning.

The word “substance” (Greek: hypostasis) speaks of something that stands under—a foundation, a support, a guarantee. In the ancient world, hypostasis was used in legal documents to describe a title deed—a document that proves ownership even before possession is taken.

So what is faith? It is your spiritual title deed. If God has promised it, faith is your legal right to it, even if your hands are still empty. You may not see it yet, but faith says, “It’s already mine.”

But the verse doesn’t stop there. Faith is also the evidence of things not seen.

The word evidence (Greek: elegchos) means proof, conviction, or cross-examination. It is the same word used in a courtroom to describe compelling proof that persuades a judge or jury. Yet Hebrews says that faith is evidence of things not seen—things the natural eye cannot detect, things beyond physical confirmation.

How can you have proof of what you can’t see? Because faith doesn’t come from what you see—it comes from what God said.

That’s why faith can walk into a storm with peace. That’s why faith can give when resources are low. That’s why faith can speak life over death, hope over despair, and joy in the middle of sorrow.

The world says, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Faith says, “I believe it because He said it—and that’s enough.”

Faith is not only the substance of what we hope for—our internal title deed—but also the evidence we present when everything around us says, “This makes no sense.” It is spiritual sight that outperforms natural sight.

What has God spoken to you that you haven’t yet seen?

Don’t throw away your title deed.

Don’t ignore the courtroom evidence of His Word.

Stand on the foundation of faith, and present your case—not to convince God, but to remind yourself that His promise is already yours.

Heavenly Father, Thank You that faith is not fragile. Thank You that it is substance—the foundation under my hope—and evidence, the proof of what You are doing behind the scenes. Teach me to walk not by sight but by faith. Help me trust what I cannot see because I fully trust the One who spoke it. Let my life be a testimony of things hoped for and things not seen, so that others may see You through me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
—Hebrews 11:1 (KJV)

The word “now” is small, but it holds the weight of urgency and immediacy. In Hebrews 11:1, it doesn’t merely introduce a definition—it sets the tone for a lifestyle.

Let’s pause and consider two powerful meanings of the word “now” in this verse.

First, “now” in light of Hebrews 10. In the closing verses of chapter 10, we read:

“Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward… But we are not of them who draw back unto perdition; but of them that believe to the saving of the soul.” (Hebrews 10:35, 39)

This sets the stage. The author urges believers to hold fast, to remain steadfast in trial, to keep their confidence, and to live by faith, not by fear. So “now faith is” follows as a declaration to those who are tempted to give up: Don’t draw back. Step forward. Right now—faith must rise.

Second, consider “now” as the tense where faith must operate.

Faith doesn’t live in the past, wrapped in memories of what God once did.

Faith doesn’t dwell in the future, waiting for the right moment or perfect conditions.
Faith lives in the now.

Now faith is—not will be, not once was. Faith must work in the present. It responds today, moves today, believes today. Faith is not a theory we rehearse but a power we release in the moment we need it most.

We may not see the full picture. The evidence may not be visible. The things we hope for may feel distant. But faith assures us—they are real. Faith becomes the substance—the solid ground—when everything else is shifting. It is the evidence—a spiritual conviction—when our natural senses fail us.

What do you need now faith for today? Not tomorrow’s worries, not yesterday’s regrets—today’s trial, today’s decision, today’s mountain.

Maybe God is calling you to trust Him in uncertainty, to obey without a sign, to move when it feels risky. That’s where faith shines.

You don’t need to feel strong—you need to believe God is.

You don’t need to understand—you need to trust.

You don’t need the answer—you need the assurance.

Let’s pray-

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the gift of faith. Help me not to live in the shadows of the past or the worries of tomorrow, but to activate my faith right now. Teach me to trust in what I cannot see, and to walk boldly on the foundation of Your Word. Give me strength not to draw back, but to press forward, believing that You are faithful. Let my “now faith” be my anchor in this present moment. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

John 20:27 – “Then He said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’”

In the stillness of that room, Jesus did not rebuke Thomas for his doubt—He invited him. With tenderness and authority, He opened His hand, revealing the scars of crucifixion, not as a display of shame or defeat, but as eternal proof of love.

The wounds were not just evidence of death—they were a living invitation. “Touch the place where sacrifice met mercy,” Jesus was saying. Thomas was offered not only proof but participation. His hand was called to meet the pierced hand of Christ—to bridge doubt with faith, and intellect with intimacy.

In this moment, Jesus established a pattern: His hand remains open. Open to bless. Open to heal. Open to hold. But first, it is open to show us the cost of redemption. Before it gives bread, it bears scars. Before it lifts us up, it reminds us of what was laid down.

We often seek the open hand of God for provision, guidance, or comfort—and rightly so. But before we look for what is in His hand, we must look at His hand. The cross is not only the beginning of grace; it is the center of relationship. We are not invited to admire it from afar—we are called to engage it, even through the vulnerable act of touch, as Thomas was.

Faith may begin with seeing, but it grows through drawing close—through the touch of trust.

Let’s pray-

Heavenly Father, thank You for the open hand of Jesus. Not closed in judgment, not withdrawn in disappointment, but extended in grace, marked by sacrifice, and filled with mercy. Help us to respond to Your invitation—not just to believe from a distance, but to come close, to see the wounds that purchased our peace, and to touch the love that overcame the grave. Let us not rush to the blessings without pausing at the cross. Form in us the faith of Thomas—not only to say “My Lord and my God,” but to live as those transformed by the touch of Christ. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’”
— John 20:26

It had been a full week since the world turned upside down.

A week since thorns pierced His brow.

A week since the sun darkened and the earth shook.

A week since the heavy stone sealed what felt like all their hopes inside a grave.

And even though the tomb was empty, the house was still locked.

Fear lingered. Questions remained. Even joy, when it peeked through, was shadowed by uncertainty.

Thomas had not yet seen.
The others had seen and still struggled to believe fully.

Could it really be true? Could hope survive wounds that deep?

One week after the resurrection, the disciples were still hiding, learning that resurrection is not just an event — it’s a re-making of the heart.

And then, quietly, Jesus came. Again.

Through locked doors.
Through locked hearts.

Through the silence of a wounded faith.

And He spoke the same words He had spoken before: “Peace be with you.”

He did not shame their slow belief. He did not condemn their careful hope. Instead, He came closer. He showed His wounds again. He invited Thomas to touch, to see, to believe.

This is the Jesus who meets us even after the first hallelujah fades.
The Jesus who understands that sometimes it takes more than a morning to heal a broken hope. The Jesus who comes again, not once but as many times as it takes, until faith takes root.

If today you find yourself like Thomas — still waiting, still wondering, still aching for proof — know this:

Jesus is not afraid of your doubts. He is not offended by your questions. He will come to you. Through every locked place. Over every fear. Through every moment of silent waiting.

And when He comes, He still speaks the words we need most:

“Peace be with you.”

Let’s pray-

Lord, You come to us even when the doors of our hearts are locked. You come to us even when fear still lingers and faith feels fragile. Thank You for your patience, for your peace, and for your presence that never leaves. Teach us to trust You in the waiting.
Help us to see Your wounds and know they have made a way for our healing. Breathe peace into the places where doubt still whispers,
and remind us that You are always near, even when we cannot yet see.in Jesus’ name, amen.”

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:20

On the surface, Good Friday seems like a contradiction. How can we call good a day marked by betrayal, blood, mockery, thorns, and death? How can the crucifixion of Jesus—God’s perfect Son—be anything but tragic?

But this is the mystery and majesty of God’s redemptive love: He is the only One who can turn the worst day in history into the doorway to eternal hope.

As Jesus hung on the cross, gasping for breath, bearing the weight of the world’s sin, the skies grew dark and the earth trembled. To those watching, it looked like evil had won. Rome had crushed another rebel. The religious leaders had silenced a threat. His disciples had scattered. And yet—this was God’s plan unfolding.

In Genesis 50:20, Joseph speaks to his brothers who sold him into slavery: “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.” That same truth echoes on Good Friday. The enemy meant the cross for destruction. But God turned it into the greatest victory of all time. Through Christ’s suffering, He purchased our healing. Through His death, He gave us life.

The pain was real. The sacrifice was brutal. But the outcome? Salvation for all who believe. That’s why we call it Good Friday—not because of what Jesus endured, but because of what it accomplished. The cross wasn’t the end of the story—it was the beginning of redemption.

Good Friday reminds us that even the darkest moments are not beyond the reach of God’s redeeming power. Sunday is coming. And with it, resurrection. Hold on to hope, because with God, what looks bad can always be made good.

Heavenly Father, thank You for enduring the agony of the cross so that I could be free. Thank You for turning what was meant for evil into the greatest good the world has ever known. Help me to trust You in my dark days, knowing that You can redeem every loss, every wound, and every sorrow. Because of You, I have hope. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?’” — Mark 8:34–36 (NIV)

In this sobering passage, Jesus flips the world’s values on their head. He doesn’t sugarcoat discipleship. He doesn’t promise comfort or applause. He calls us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Him.

The Greek word for “take up” is αἴρω (airō), meaning “to lift up, raise, or bear.” It’s used in other places in Scripture to describe lifting burdens, raising hands, and even lifting up voices in praise. So when Jesus says to take up our cross, He’s not asking us to drag it reluctantly behind us. He’s calling us to raise it, to elevate the cause of Christ in our lives daily, publicly, and purposefully.

The cross we raise is not merely the pain we endure, but the purpose we choose.

The paradox Jesus presents is haunting and liberating: If you save your life, you’ll lose it; if you lose it for His sake, you’ll save it.

In other words, the more we clutch our ambitions, comforts, or worldly accomplishments, the more we lose sight of eternal significance. But when we lay down our plans, reputations, and even our dreams in surrender to God’s will, we find our true identity and destiny in Christ.

This connects beautifully with verse 36:

“What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?”

That verse forces a hard question: What are we chasing? Accolades? Security? Approval? The cross confronts all of that. It is not just a symbol of death—it is an altar of exchange. When we take up our cross, we lay down our desire to be the author of our own stories, and we trust the pen to God.

To “take up” our cross each day means we raise up the name of Jesus in our choices, our responses, and even our sacrifices. We raise up His purpose above our comfort. We raise up His will above our wandering. We raise up the Gospel over our goals.

Every time we deny selfish ambition, every time we forgive when we want revenge, every time we surrender our timeline for His—we lift the cross high.

It is in raising our cross that we reveal the kingdom. It is in losing our grip on worldly gain that we find eternal treasure.

What part of your life are you trying to “gain” that might be costing your soul more than you realize?

What would it look like to raise your cross today in a way that honors Christ?

Are there ambitions or goals you need to lay down to truly follow Jesus?

Lord, help me see the areas where I’m clinging to the world instead of clinging to You. Teach me to deny myself, take up my cross, and follow You with a full and surrendered heart. May I raise the cause of Christ in my life today and every day. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.” – Mark 8:34-35

In Mark 8, we see a powerful shift in Jesus’ teaching. After Peter declares that Jesus is the Christ—and then immediately objects to the idea of Jesus suffering—Jesus turns to the crowd and calls them to a deeper understanding of what it truly means to follow Him: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me.

This was a jarring statement to His listeners. The cross was not a symbol of beauty or hope in their context—it was a brutal instrument of death. So, when Jesus told them to take up their cross, He wasn’t talking about carrying a burden or enduring inconvenience. He was speaking of death—death to self.

As we follow Jesus to His Cross, we carry our own. But what is our cross? It’s not just suffering or hardship. Our cross is the place where our will is crucified so His will can live in us.

It is the daily surrender of our desires, our plans, our preferences—even our dreams—to yield to the authority of Jesus Christ.

Sometimes we want something so badly that we try to convince ourselves it’s God’s will. Sometimes we think our way is more effective, more efficient, or even more merciful. But the call of discipleship is not to advise Jesus—it’s to follow Him. Even when His path leads us to discomfort. Even when it asks more than we expected to give.

“Not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)

Jesus didn’t just teach this—He lived it. He carried His cross willingly, knowing it would lead to pain, shame, and death. And He calls us to do the same, not out of guilt, but out of love, trust, and obedience.

The heaviest part of carrying our cross is not external—it’s internal. The weight we bear is often our pride, our need for control, our comfort, our opinions, our insistence that our way is better.

But when we nail those things to the cross, something incredible happens: resurrection life begins to flow.

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” (Galatians 2:20)

There is freedom in crucifixion—freedom from the exhausting need to be right, to be in control, to get our way. There is peace when we surrender to His Word and His will.

Jesus said, “Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for Me and the gospel will save it.”

This is the paradox of the cross: when we die to self, we come alive in Christ. When we let go of our grip on life, we discover the life we were made for. It’s not about self-preservation—it’s about full surrender.

Taking up our cross is not a one-time decision—it’s a daily posture. Every day we must choose to crucify our selfishness, our pride, and our need to be in control. And in doing so, we find true life.

To follow Jesus is to walk the road to the cross—but it is also to walk the road to resurrection.

Lord, help me to carry my cross daily. Teach me to surrender—not just the big things but the quiet, hidden corners of my will that still resist You. Let me not only call You Christ, but also obey You as Lord. Crucify in me anything that competes with You, and fill me with resurrection life. Even when I falter, thank You for staying near. I want to follow You—fully and freely. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

“And Jesus went on with His disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi. And on the way, He asked His disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they told Him, ‘John the Baptist; and others say, Elijah; and others, one of the prophets.’ And He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered Him, ‘You are the Christ.’”
— Mark 8:27-29 (ESV)

“And Jesus answered him, ‘Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven.’”
— Matthew 16:17 (ESV)

Have you ever looked at something but not truly seen it? Maybe it was a moment of searching for your keys only to realize they were in your hand, or missing an important detail in a conversation because you were distracted. Sometimes, vision isn’t just about our eyes—it’s about our understanding.

Jesus asked His disciples a critical question: “Who do people say that I am?” They responded with various opinions—John the Baptist, Elijah, or one of the prophets. But then Jesus asked a deeper, personal question: “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter’s response—“You are the Christ”—wasn’t just an educated guess or a well-reasoned opinion. It was revelation. Jesus made it clear in Matthew 16:17 that Peter did not figure this out on his own: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven.” Peter saw Jesus clearly—not with physical sight but with spiritual vision given by God.

This kind of insight is essential in our daily lives. We are constantly faced with decisions, struggles, and questions about our faith and purpose. The world offers many answers, just as the people in Jesus’ day had various opinions about who He was. But true clarity—about Jesus, about life, about our calling—only comes through divine revelation.

In Mark 8:22-26, just before this moment, Jesus healed a blind man in stages—first seeing people as “trees walking” and then gaining full clarity. This is a picture of how we need God’s touch to truly see. Without revelation, we see life dimly, making decisions based on incomplete knowledge. But with God’s insight, we gain clarity and direction.

Ask God for Vision:
Pray for divine revelation in your walk with Christ. Ask God to open your spiritual eyes, just as He did for Peter, so that you see Jesus clearly in your life.

Seek God’s Wisdom:
In moments of uncertainty, don’t just rely on human understanding. Seek God’s voice through prayer and His Word.

Walk in Revelation:
When God gives you insight, trust it. Peter’s revelation of Christ set the foundation for his calling. Likewise, when God reveals something to you, act on it with faith.

What areas of your life do you need God’s revelation in right now? Are you willing to seek Him and trust what He shows you?

Heavenly Father, I don’t want to rely only on what I see or what others say. I want to see with spiritual eyes, to know You not just by knowledge but by revelation. Open my heart and mind to understand Your truth, to recognize Your presence in my life, and to walk in the wisdom that comes from You alone. In Jesus’ name, Amen.