ALL POSTS

The "hard to swallow" aspects of faith aren't punishments or tests. They're invitations to become the people God created us to be. They're opportunities to discover that God's way really is better than our way, even when it's harder.

Communion challenges us to love like Jesus loved. To forgive like Jesus forgave. To serve like Jesus served. To sacrifice like Jesus sacrificed. And honestly, that can feel overwhelming. It's much easier to follow a religion that asks us to be nice, show up on Sundays, and avoid the really bad sins.

Taking up our cross daily means waking up each morning and deciding to follow Jesus' way instead of our way. It means trusting that God's plan for our lives is better than our plan, even when we can't see how.

When Jesus becomes our spiritual nourishment, something different happens. We find a satisfaction that lasts. Not because our circumstances become perfect, but because we discover that God's love is enough to sustain us through whatever life brings.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it, following Jesus can feel hard to swallow. But Jesus doesn't try to sugarcoat it either because he knows that real change – the kind of transformation we desperately need – often requires us to do things that feel uncomfortable at first.

17 So then, if anyone is in Christ, that person is part of the new creation. The old things have gone away, and look, new things have...

in God's kingdom, nobody earns their place at the table. We don't get to sit with God because we're wealthy enough, smart enough, or good enough. We get to sit with God because God wants us there.

God prepares this feast "right in front of our enemies." Not after the problems are solved. Not when life gets easier. Not when all our enemies have been defeated. Right in the middle of our struggles, God sets a table.

When we gather around the communion table at church, we're not just participating in a religious ritual. We're joining a meal that connects us to Jesus and to two thousand years of believers who have also eaten this bread and drunk from this cup. We're part of something much bigger than ourselves.

Tables are ordinary pieces of furniture – four legs and a top, nothing fancy. But they become more than furniture. They can become something extraordinary when people gather around them. They hold our food, but more than that, they hold our stories. They witness our celebrations and our sorrows, our hellos and our goodbyes.

Sharing in God's victory doesn't mean getting revenge on our enemies or finally proving we were right all along. It means entering into a reality where the things that separate us from God and from each other no longer exist.

One of the most significant details in John's vision is often overlooked: the New Jerusalem doesn't stay in heaven—it comes "down out of heaven from God." This isn't about believers going up to God; it's about God coming down to believers.

"See! I am making all things new." This declaration from the one seated on the throne is one of the most hope-filled statements in the entire Bible. But it's important to notice what it doesn't say.

This is one of the most beloved promises in all of Scripture, and for good reason. It speaks to the deepest longing of the human heart: the desire for an end to suffering and loss, pain and tears.

When a lot people read about the New Jerusalem with its pearly gates and streets of gold, they picture something like a divine gated community, an exclusive eternal resort where the righteous get to enjoy luxury accommodations forever. But this misses the point entirely.

Whatever you're facing right now, whatever is making you want to give up, remember John's message: Don't give up on God, because God always wins.

If you find yourself in a situation where you're tempted to "flip the board"—to walk away from faith, to blame God for problems you've contributed to, to choose anger over acknowledgment—stop and consider whether this might be an opportunity for repentance instead of rage.

In the middle of this chapter about divine judgment, we find this statement about God's character: "You are just in these judgments, O Holy One, you who are and who were; 6 for they have shed the blood of your holy people and your prophets, and you have given them blood to drink as they deserve."

This stubborn refusal to acknowledge God even when faced with the results of rejecting him represents what theologians call apostasy, which is not just walking away from faith, but hardening one's heart against it completely.

sometimes it feels like the game is rigged against those who try to do what's right. That's what John's first readers were experiencing. The people who worshiped the emperor were thriving economically and socially, while Christians were losing their businesses, their homes, and sometimes their lives. It looked like evil was winning and goodness was being punished.