Freedom isn’t simply the ability to do whatever we want.
It is the opportunity to become who God created us to be.
Real freedom enables us to love.
To forgive.
To serve.
To live without being enslaved by sin, bitterness, fear, or selfishness.
Don’t Take Freedom for Granted
If I’m honest, I sometimes wonder whether one of the greatest dangers we face is not losing freedom…
but forgetting its value, and then giving it away voluntarily..
Anything we enjoy every day can slowly become ordinary.
We begin to assume it has always been there.
That it always will be.
Freedom—whether political or spiritual—is too precious to take for granted.
It deserves our gratitude.
Our stewardship.
And our remembrance.
A Final Encouragement
As the smoke from the fireworks dissipates and the excitement from such a momentous anniversary celebration wanes, I hope we’ll hang on to the memories we made.
Cherish the time we spent with family and friends.
Celebrate the remarkable blessings we have received.
But as we return to the routine of our daily lives, I also hope we’ll pause for a quieter moment.
To remember those who gave their lives so that we could enjoy the extraordinary freedom we experience.
And to remember the One who gave His life so that we could live forever.
One secured our earthly freedom.
The other secured our eternal freedom.
May we never take either for granted. Both remind us that freedom is never free. It is always purchased through sacrifice.
A Question to Sit With
This Independence Day, what freedoms have I begun to take for granted…
and how can gratitude shape the way I live in response?
Like many people approaching retirement, I had dreams and plans for this new season of life. More time with my wife. Travel. New adventures. Writing. Serving. Learning. Exploring what God might have next.
And thankfully, many of those things are happening or are on their way.
But retirement has also brought something I didn’t fully anticipate.
House projects.
Lots of house projects.
Last spring, my wife and I purchased a home in Wyoming. We love it—or are ready to. It is beautiful, sits in a wonderful neighborhood, and has already become a place filled with memories.
But as anyone who has ever purchased an existing home knows, houses have a way of revealing surprises.
Some of those surprises are delightful.
Others… not so much.
Since moving in, we have encountered one unexpected project after another. Drainage problems. Water issues. Repairs. Improvements. Things that seemed simple but somehow turned into much larger undertakings.
If I’m honest, there have been moments when I’ve found myself asking:
“Lord, why this?”
“Why now?”
“Why another project?”
Perhaps you’ve asked similar questions. I’m pretty sure my wife has.
But maybe your questions weren’t about a house.
Maybe about your health.
Your family.
Your work.
A difficult relationship.
A season of caregiving.
An unexpected loss.
A responsibility you never asked for.
We all encounter assignments in life that we would not have chosen for ourselves.
And often, we don’t understand why God has allowed them.
God’s Workmanship
One of my favorite passages in Scripture says this:
For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
—Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)
Think about that for a moment.
God prepared good works for us to do.
Prepared in advance.
Long before we were born.
Long before we retired.
Long before we purchased that house, accepted that job, faced that challenge, or entered that difficult season.
God already knew.
And somehow, in ways that often remain mysterious to us, He has woven these assignments into our lives.
That doesn’t mean every circumstance is easy.
Or enjoyable.
Or immediately understandable.
But it does mean that none of it is wasted.
If God has placed this assignment in front of me, then by His grace, I was made for it.
It Isn’t Always Ours to Understand
I have come to realize that much of the Christian life involves faithfully doing the next thing God places in front of us, even when we don’t understand why.
Frankly, I would prefer a detailed explanation.
A roadmap.
A spreadsheet.
Maybe even a PowerPoint presentation.
But God rarely works that way.
Instead, He usually gives us enough light for the next step.
Not the next hundred.
Isaiah reminds us:
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.
—Isaiah 55:8 (NIV)
Sometimes our calling is simply obedience.
To trust.
To serve.
To repair what needs repairing.
To love the people God has placed in our lives.
To keep showing up.
To keep moving forward.
And to do all of it leaning into His strength rather than our own.
Faithfulness Doesn’t Have to Be Visible
Another challenge is that many of the things God calls us to do seem invisible.
Our culture celebrates visible accomplishments.
Promotions.
Awards.
Recognition.
Followers.
Achievements.
But the Kingdom of God often operates differently.
Some of the most important work done for God’s Kingdom happens quietly.
Unseen.
Uncelebrated.
I have a dear friend who prays fiercely for others every day.
Sometimes I think he struggles to feel as though he’s contributing to the lives of those around him in meaningful ways.
Most of the people he prays for daily have no idea that he’s stepping onto the spiritual battlefield on their behalf regularly.
No crowds applaud.
No headlines are written.
No one may ever fully understand the eternal impact of those prayers.
And yet Scripture tells us:
The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.
—James 5:16 (NIV)
Powerful.
Effective.
Not because others see it.
Because God does.
Jesus Himself said:
“Your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”
—Matthew 6:4 (NIV)
The audience that matters most has perfect attendance.
Working for an Audience of One
Perhaps this is why Paul wrote:
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.
—Colossians 3:23 (NIV)
Whatever you do.
Whether you’re leading a company.
Changing diapers.
Caring for an aging parent.
Fixing drainage problems.
Praying quietly for a friend.
Writing encouraging notes.
Serving behind the scenes.
Or simply doing the next thing God has placed before you.
Do it wholeheartedly.
Do it joyfully.
Do it for Him.
Because you were made for this.
Not necessarily this exact task.
But this life of faithful obedience.
This life of partnering with God in the good works He prepared for you long ago.
A Final Encouragement
There are still days when I stand in my yard, looking at yet another unexpected project, and wonder what exactly God is up to.
I still don’t know.
But I’m learning that understanding isn’t always required. Faithfulness is. Joy is. Trust is.
And so, one project at a time, one day at a time, I will continue leaning into God’s wisdom, strength, and the joy of the Lord.
Because if He has placed this assignment in front of me, then by His grace, I was made for it.
And so were you.
A Question to Sit With
What assignment has God placed in front of you right now…
and how might your perspective change if you saw it not as an interruption, but as part of the good work He prepared in advance for you to do?
Earlier this week, I spent a couple of days with one of my oldest and closest friends.
As always, we had a wonderful time together. Some friendships are like that. No matter how much time passes between visits, you simply pick up where you left off. We laughed, shared stories, reminisced about old times, and enjoyed being together.
Yet when I drove away, I found myself carrying a low-grade sense of sadness for him.
My friend has never shown much interest in God. Late last year, he lost his job. After an unsuccessful search for another one, he decided to retire. More recently, he made the difficult decision to divorce his wife.
Today, he is free to do almost anything he wants. He can travel wherever he chooses. He can spend his days however he wishes. His calendar is largely unconstrained by obligations.
On the surface, that sounds appealing.
But as I reflected on our conversations, I couldn’t shake a nagging question: What gives his life meaning now?
Please don’t misunderstand me. I am not judging him. In fact, I genuinely enjoy spending time with him and value our friendship deeply. Rather, our time together caused me to reflect on a broader question that applies to all of us.
Where does our sense of purpose come from?
For many people, purpose comes from a career. We spend decades building a profession, solving problems, achieving goals, earning promotions, and providing for our families. Work becomes such a significant part of our identity that it can be difficult to imagine life without it.
Others find purpose in accumulating wealth, pursuing experiences, collecting accomplishments, or chasing the next adventure.
The problem is that all of those things eventually come to an end.
Jobs end.
Careers end.
Health declines.
Relationships change.
Even the most exciting adventures eventually become memories.
If our sense of meaning is built entirely upon temporary things, what happens when those things are gone?
As I pondered this question, I was reminded of one of the first kayaking adventures my wife and I took together.
Our first kayak was inflatable. It was wonderfully convenient because we could pack it into the back of our vehicle and take it almost anywhere. The downside was that it required a fair amount of set-up before each trip.
On one particular outing, I carefully inflated the kayak, assembled the paddles, loaded our gear, and carried everything down to the water.
Then we climbed in and started paddling.
Something didn’t feel right.
We were moving, but not very effectively. We seemed to drift aimlessly. At times, we found ourselves turning in circles. We paddled harder, but we weren’t accomplishing much.
Then I realized what I had done.
In all my preparations, I had forgotten to install the rudder.
Back on shore, I attached it, and suddenly everything changed. The same paddling that had previously produced confusion and frustration now produced forward progress. We had direction. We had purpose. We knew where we were headed.
The kayak could move without a rudder. It just couldn’t go anywhere meaningful.
The older I get, the more I realize that many people live their lives that way.
They are busy.
They are active.
They are productive.
They may even be successful.
But they are missing the rudder.
They have motion without direction.
Activity without purpose.
Achievement without meaning.
Scripture teaches that God created us for far more than simply filling our days until our time on earth is over.
Paul writes:
For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.
If you belong to Christ, your purpose did not end when your career ended. It did not disappear when your children moved out. It does not depend on your title, your income, your achievements, or your stage of life.
God still has good works prepared for you.
God still has people for you to encourage.
God still has opportunities for you to serve.
God still has lessons for you to learn and ways for you to grow.
God doesn’t promise an easy path. He promises a straight one. He provides direction. He gives meaning to our efforts.
He supplies purpose that transcends our circumstances.
Looking back on my own retirement, I realize how grateful I am for this truth.
My job was meaningful, and I enjoyed much of the work I did over the years. But my purpose was never found in my job.
Today, I still have a wonderful wife to love.
Children and grandchildren to invest in.
Friends to encourage.
Lessons to learn.
People to serve.
A God to know more deeply.
The same God who guided me through my working years continues to guide me today.
That is what gives my life meaning.
Without Him, retirement could easily become an endless search for ways to fill the calendar.
With Him, retirement becomes another chapter in an ongoing adventure.
As I think back to that day on the water, I am reminded that the kayak’s problem was not a lack of effort. We were paddling plenty hard.
The problem was a lack of direction.
Perhaps that is a question worth asking ourselves.
Are we simply paddling?
Or have we remembered to attach the rudder?
May we seek the One who not only gives us strength for the journey, but also provides the direction, purpose, meaning, and hope that make the journey worthwhile.
Fear is one of the most universal human experiences.
Some fears are obvious.
Fear for our health.
Fear for our children.
Fear about finances.
Fear about the future.
Fear of failure.
Fear of loss.
Fear of being rejected.
Fear of not being enough.
If I’m honest, fear has shown up in my own life more times than I’d care to admit.
Sometimes it arrives like someone banging on your front door.
Other times it quietly slips in through a side door.
And once it enters, fear has a way of making itself at home.
It narrows our vision.
Clouds our judgment.
Makes us forget how big and powerful and capable our God is.
Steals our peace.
And if left unchecked, it can begin making decisions for us.
But Scripture offers a surprising answer to fear.
Not courage.
Not willpower.
Not trying harder.
Love.
Perfect Love Casts Out Fear
One of the most meaningful verses to me in all of Scripture says this:
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. —1 John 4:18 (NIV)
I’ve always found that verse both comforting and challenging.
Because if I’m being honest, there are still plenty of times when I feel fear.
Does that mean I don’t love God enough?
Or that God doesn’t love me enough?
I don’t think that’s what John is saying.
I think he’s inviting us into something deeper.
Fear and love pull us in opposite directions.
Fear says:
Protect yourself.
Control the outcome.
Assume the worst.
Love says:
Trust.
Receive.
Rest.
The more deeply we experience God’s love, the less room fear has to take root.
Perfect love doesn’t merely coexist with fear.
It chases it away.
What Does It Mean for Love to Cast Out Fear?
I’ve often wondered exactly what John meant when he wrote that perfect love casts out fear.
After all, even faithful Christians experience fear.
The disciples did.
David did.
Paul did.
Even Jesus experienced deep anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane.
So John can’t mean that followers of Christ will never feel afraid.
I think the key is in the next phrase:
“because fear has to do with punishment.”
At its deepest level, fear often asks questions like:
Am I enough?
Am I safe?
Am I alone?
Have I failed too badly?
Will God give up on me?
The Gospel answers every one of those fears.
The cross tells us that our punishment has already been borne by Christ.
The resurrection tells us that death itself has been defeated.
And God’s love tells us that we are not abandoned.
Perfect love casts out fear because it reminds us that we belong to God. And if we belong to Him, ultimately there is nothing to fear.
If God Is for Us…
Paul takes this idea even further in one of my favorite chapters in the Bible:
He experienced opposition almost everywhere he went.
The question isn’t whether we will face difficulty.
The question is whether anything can ultimately prevail against a God who is for us.
And Paul’s answer is clear:
No.
A few verses later he writes:
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers… will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. —Romans 8:38–39 (NIV)
Nothing.
Not our circumstances.
Not our failures.
Not our fears.
Not even death itself.
If God is for us—and Scripture repeatedly tells us He is—then fear loses much of its power.
Fear Shrinks in the Presence of Love
I’ve noticed something in my own life.
Fear tends to grow in isolation.
It thrives in uncertainty.
It feeds on “what if?”
But love does something different.
Love draws us toward God.
Love reminds us whose we are.
Love tells us we are not alone.
When I remember that I am deeply loved by the Creator of the universe—not because of what I’ve done, but because of who He is—something changes.
The circumstances may not change immediately.
But my perspective does.
And often that’s where peace begins.
Perfect love casts out fear because it reminds us that we belong to God. And if we belong to Him, ultimately there is nothing to fear.
What Do We Do When Fear Shows Up?
Because let’s be honest:
Even people of faith experience fear.
The question isn’t whether fear will knock.
The question is what we’ll do when it arrives.
Here are a few practices that help me when fear or anxiety begin to rise.
1. Name the Fear
Fear grows in the dark.
Bringing it into the light often reduces its power.
This past Friday, I retired from my full-time career.
Even as I write those words, they feel a little strange.
For more than forty years, I’ve had a ready answer when someone asked a question that seems to come up almost immediately whenever adults meet for the first time:
“What do you do?”
It’s one of the most common questions in our culture.
And for most of our working lives, it’s easy to answer.
“I’m a teacher.”
“I’m an engineer.”
“I’m a consultant.”
“I’m a nurse.”
“I’m a program manager. Healthcare technology leader.”
But what happens when that chapter ends?
Over the past few years, as I planned my transition into retirement, I spent a lot of time researching the subject. In fact, it led me to create an entire website dedicated to helping others navigate that journey.
One theme came up again and again:
Identity.
Many retirees struggle not because they don’t know what they’re retiring from.
They struggle because they don’t know what they’re retiring to.
For years, their work has answered the question:
Who am I?
And when the work goes away, the question remains.
Thankfully, knowing this challenge was coming gave me time to think about my own answer.
And I’ve come to realize that the best answer has very little to do with retirement.
The Best Answer
As a follower of Christ, one answer rises above all the others.
What do I do?
Whatever God wants me to do.
That may sound overly simplistic at first.
But the older I get, the more profound it seems.
My purpose was never ultimately tied to a job title.
It wasn’t tied to a paycheck.
It wasn’t tied to an employer.
Those things mattered.
Some of them mattered a great deal.
But they were never the source of my identity.
Long before I was an employee, a manager, a consultant, or a retiree…
A little over a month ago, I wrote a post called The Spirit in You Is Greater, reflecting on the truth that we do not need to be afraid in this fallen and broken world because the Spirit of God living within us is greater than the spirit of this world.
After reading it, one of my faithful readers—and a dear friend—asked a thoughtful question:
“What if the thing that’s causing me to be afraid isn’t out there? What if it’s living inside my own mind?”
It’s a great question.
In fact, it’s a question I’ve been pondering ever since he asked it.
Sometimes the giants we face aren’t circumstances.
They’re thoughts.
Worries.
Fears.
Regrets.
What-ifs.
Memories we can’t seem to shake.
Anxieties about things that haven’t happened yet—and may never happen at all.
And if we’re honest, those giants can sometimes feel larger than anything happening around us.
The thought that eventually came to me is straightforward.
But as is often the case with God’s answers, simple doesn’t necessarily mean easy.
Paul’s Prescription for Inner Giants
Writing from prison—hardly an ideal situation—Paul gave the believers in Philippi these instructions:
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” —Philippians 4:6–7 (NIV)
What Paul Does Not Say
One of the things I love about this passage is what Paul doesn’t say.
He doesn’t say:
“Figure it out.”
He doesn’t say:
“Stop worrying.”
He doesn’t say:
“Try harder not to be anxious.”
Instead, he gives us a different path.
Bring it to God.
All of it.
The fears. The worries. The questions. The scenarios we’ve played out a thousand times in our minds.
The giants.
Present your requests to God.
Not once.
Not only when things become unbearable.
In every situation.
The Giant Gets Stronger When We Feed It
I think Paul understood something about human nature.
Our minds are incredible gifts from God.
But left unchecked, they can also become factories for fear.
We replay old conversations.
We rehearse future disasters.
We dwell on mistakes we’ve already made.
We imagine outcomes that may never happen.
And before long, the giant in our minds begins to feel more real than the God who created the universe.
I know because I’ve done it.
Maybe you have too.
The more attention we give to fear, the larger it appears.
The more we rehearse worst-case scenarios, the more inevitable they begin to feel.
The more we focus on the giant, the less we focus on God.
The giant doesn’t seem quite so big anymore—not because it changed, but because you’re finally seeing it in the shadow of a much bigger God.
David’s Secret
As I reflected on this, my mind kept returning to another famous giant.
Goliath.
For forty days, the Israelites listened to Goliath’s threats.
Morning and evening.
Day after day.
The giant kept talking.
And the people kept listening.
Eventually, nobody could imagine defeating him.
But something occurred to me recently.
The giant hadn’t actually grown. Their fear had.
When David arrived on the scene, he heard the same giant everyone else heard.
But he saw something different.
Everyone else compared Goliath to themselves.
David compared Goliath to God.
That’s the difference.
The size of the giant hadn’t changed.
The point of reference had.
What Prayer Actually Does
I think this is where many of us misunderstand prayer.
We often approach it as a way to get God to remove the giant.
And sometimes He does.
But often, something else happens first.
Prayer changes what we’re comparing the giant to.
Instead of comparing our fear to our strength…
we begin comparing our fear to God’s faithfulness.
Instead of comparing our problem to our resources…
we begin comparing our problem to God’s power.
Instead of focusing on what might happen…
we begin focusing on the One who holds what happens next.
The book of Acts tells us that about 120 believers gathered together after Jesus ascended into heaven.
One hundred twenty.
Not an army. Not political leaders. Not celebrities. Not military powerhouses.
Just ordinary people.
Fishermen. Former tax collectors. Women. Families. Followers still trying to understand everything that had happened.
If you were trying to build a movement capable of changing the world…
these would not have been your first-round draft picks.
And yet…
they did change the world.
How?
Not somehow.
By the power of the Holy Spirit.
The Promise Jesus Made
Before ascending into heaven, Jesus told them:
“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you…” —Acts 1:8 (NIV)
Not better strategies.
Not stronger personalities.
Power.
And when Pentecost arrived, that promise became reality.
All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit… —Acts 2:4 (NIV)
Suddenly, fearful people became bold.
Peter—the same Peter who denied Jesus in fear—stood before a massive crowd and publicly proclaimed the Gospel.
And thousands came to faith.
He had to know that doing so could have led him to the same fate as Jesus’s (and ultimately, it did), but the same man who once hid in fear now openly proclaimed Christ in the very city where Jesus had been crucified.
What changed?
He and others were now living in the power of the Holy Spirit.
Pentecost was the birth of the Church—not because a building was established, but because ordinary people were filled with the presence and power of God.
What Pentecost Actually Was
Pentecost took place fifty days after the resurrection and ten days after Jesus ascended into heaven.
Originally, it was a Jewish festival celebrating harvest and thanksgiving.
In Acts 2, it describes how about 120 of Christ’s followers were gathered together, maybe in part to celebrate the festival. Christian tradition holds that the place where they were meeting was the same upper room where the Last Supper had taken place, and where Jesus had first appeared to many of them following His resurrection.
Although there’s no way to know this until I can ask Jesus in person, I have to admit that I love the idea: the room of fear and sad endings becoming the room of empowerment and new beginnings.
Anyway, while we don’t know what topics they were planning to discuss, I have to imagine that at least one item on the agenda was: Now what? What do we do now? Jesus told us to spread His message of good news to every corner of the world. That sounds nice and all, but specifically how are we supposed to pull that off?
And this is when Pentecost became something far greater.
It became the moment when the Holy Spirit descended upon the followers of Jesus in power. Another one of Jesus’s mysterious pronouncements instantly made sense.
Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. —Acts 2:2 (NIV)
Tongues of fire appeared over them. They were filled with the Holy Spirit. And fearful followers suddenly became fearless witnesses.
In many ways, Pentecost was the birth of the Church— not because a building was established, but because ordinary people were filled with the presence and power of God.
A Song That Meant More Than I Realized
I became a follower of Christ when I was a teenager. One of the things I did to try to understand more of what I had just gotten myself into was add Christian music to my broad portfolio of music I enjoyed. One of the first Christian songs that impacted me most in those early days was Petra’s More Power To Ya, released in 1982 (yes, I’m that old).
As a side note, for some reason, up to that point, the common phrase “more power to you” always seemed a bit obnoxious to me. So just based on the title, I didn’t really want to like the song, but I ended up loving it.
At first, I mostly just really liked the music.
But I didn’t know enough of the Bible or about the power of God for the lyrics to make any sense to me.
But over the years, the lyrics began to land differently.
One line especially stood out to me early on:
When they were all in one accord, the power of His Spirit Poured And they began to turn* the world around. – Song writer Bob Hartman
I put an asterisk in there because this is what I thought they were saying, and that line was immensely meaningful for me. However, upon confirming the lyrics, I found that what it really says is “tell”. That still makes sense, of course, but it doesn’t hit me quite the same way.
And another:
In all of our weakness, He becomes so strong And He gives us the power and the strength to carry on. – Song writer Bob Hartman
The song wasn’t really about human strength.
It was about our weakness and dependence.
About recognizing that the Christian life was never meant to be lived through our own ability.
The power was always His.
Still is.
The Same Power Living in Us
That thought honestly overwhelms me sometimes.
The same Spirit that empowered Peter… The same Spirit that launched the early Church… The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead…
Giving us the ability to change the world. Just like Peter and those early followers.
So How Do We Access That Power?
The short answer is:
Prayer.
But not merely polite, cautious, sanitized prayers.
When you look through Scripture, some of the greatest displays of God’s power happened after people prayed bold, audacious prayers with complete confidence that God would move.
Jesus stood outside the tomb of Lazarus and prayed for a dead man to walk out alive.
And Lazarus did.
Peter looked at a man lame from birth and said:
“In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” —Acts 3:6 (NIV)
And the man got up.
These weren’t timid prayers.
They weren’t:
“Well God, maybe if possible…”
There was certainty.
Confidence.
Expectation.
Not because the people praying were depending on their own human power…
but because they were counting on God’s power.
Maybe Our Prayers Are Too Small
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with small, everyday prayers.
God wants conversational intimacy with us.
He cares deeply about our daily lives. He wants us to find that parking place when we really need it.
But I also think many of us—including me—sometimes pray far too safely.
We pray things we can almost accomplish ourselves.
We pray things small enough that if they happen, we may end up overlooking God’s power, because maybe they would have happened anyway.
But throughout Scripture, God repeatedly invites His people to pray impossible prayers.
The kind where if God does not show up…
nothing happens. Or worse, bad things happen.
Prayers so bold they almost feel embarrassing to say out loud.
Prayers that make us nervous someone might think we’re religious fanatics.
But maybe that’s exactly the point.
Because God specializes in the impossible.
Why We Forget This
And yet, if I’m honest, I often live as though I’m on my own.
I look at challenges and immediately calculate based on my own strength.
My own wisdom. My own courage. My own ability.
And usually, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Because on its own…
it isn’t.
But Pentecost reminds us that Christianity has never been a story of human sufficiency.
It has always been a story of divine power working through ordinary people in remarkable ways.
The Power We Actually Need
Sometimes when we hear the word power, we think of spectacle.
Control. Influence. Dominance.
But the power of the Holy Spirit often looks different.
It looks like:
courage when fear would normally win
peace during chaos
conviction without arrogance
love for difficult people
endurance through suffering
hope that refuses to die
An important thing to remember, though, is that God doesn’t give us His power to impress the world…
but to reflect the power of the Holy Spirit within it.
A Final Encouragement
If you feel weak sometimes…
overwhelmed… afraid… uncertain… unqualified…
you’re actually in very good company.
So were the disciples.
Christianity did not begin because a group of extraordinary people changed the world through sheer force or determination.
It began because ordinary people were filled with the Spirit of an extraordinary God.
And that same Spirit is still living in us. Still at work today.
Still empowering. Still transforming. Still moving. Still changing lives.
Including yours.
So pray boldly.
Ask largely.
Trust deeply.
Because the same power that raised Christ from the dead…
lives in you.
A Question to Sit With
What impossible thing might God be inviting me to begin praying boldly about?
There’s a passage in Paul’s writings that I’ve always found strangely comforting.
Not because it’s easy.
Because it’s honest.
Paul—the missionary, theologian, church planter, and one of the spiritual giants of the New Testament—admits that there was something in his life he desperately wanted God to remove.
The kind of grace that covers not only what we’ve done—but who we are.
Because nothing surprises God.
Nothing we’ve done.
Nothing we’ve said.
Nothing we’ve thought.
And nothing we ever will.
God already knew all of it—and the cross already took care of the punishment we deserve.
The Part I Still Don’t Understand
If I’m honest, there are things I still don’t understand.
I don’t understand how sometimes I can feel so close to God—so grounded in faith, so aware of His presence…
…and then moments later find myself tripped up by sin.
Sometimes by something new.
Sometimes by the same old patterns.
The same thorn.
Again.
I don’t understand why I continue to be haunted by those same thorns, despite me asking God many times to take them away, or at least protect me from them so I no longer feel tempted by them. While He has helped me do better, He hasn’t taken them away from me completely. That makes no sense to me.
I also don’t understand how the Father could love us so much that He would willingly sacrifice His Son to absorb the punishment we deserve for our thorns, for our sins, old and new.
I don’t fully understand God’s boundless grace.
But understanding it isn’t the point.
Receiving it is.
Turning Toward God Instead of Away
Because what matters most is not whether we understand grace perfectly.
What matters is whether we trust it enough to turn toward God when we fail instead of away from Him.
That’s often our instinct, isn’t it?
Hide.
Retreat.
Withdraw.
Adam and Eve did it.
I do it.
Maybe you do too.
But grace invites us in the opposite direction.
Toward God.
Not away.
Nothing Can Separate Us
Paul later wrote these words:
“For I am convinced that neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God…” —Romans 8:38–39 (NIV)
Nothing.
Not our failures.
Not our patterns.
Not our thorns.
Not even us.
A Final Encouragement
I’m deeply grateful that God’s grace is sufficient.
Because I need it.
Daily.
Hourly sometimes.
I’m grateful that Jesus already paid the debt my thorns created.
And I’m grateful that when I stumble, God does not look at me and say:
“Again?”
He says:
“Come closer.”
Because His grace really is enough.
And I’m so grateful for that.
How about you?
A Question to Sit With
What thorn in my life have I been asking God to remove…
and what if He is inviting me to discover His grace there instead?
…but if I’m honest, I often end up writing exactly what I need to hear myself.
This is one of those weeks.
Because my default setting is simple:
Go.
There are always things to do. Things to fix. Things to build. Things to accomplish.
And if I’m not careful, I can convince myself that constant movement equals faithfulness.
But Scripture—and the life of Jesus—tells a different story.
Jesus Knew Exhaustion
When we think about Jesus, it’s easy to picture calm, composed moments.
But the Gospels show us something very real:
Jesus got tired.
After a long stretch of teaching and ministering, He got into a boat with His disciples—and fell asleep.
Not lightly resting.
Not just closing His eyes.
Sleeping so deeply that even a violent storm didn’t wake Him.
A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. Mark 4:37–38 (NIV)
The disciples were panicking.
The storm was real.
The danger was real.
And Jesus…
was resting. Sleeping soundly.
More Than Physical Rest
That moment wasn’t just about physical exhaustion.
It revealed something deeper.
Jesus wasn’t just tired.
He was at rest.
At peace.
Anchored.
He wasn’t driven by urgency the way we often are.
He moved with purpose—but also with trust.
Jesus Modeled a Rhythm We Struggle to Follow
Throughout His ministry, Jesus worked hard.
He taught crowds. He healed the sick. He poured Himself out for people constantly.
But He also did something we often skip:
He stepped away.
“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” Luke 5:16 (NIV)
Not once. Not occasionally.
Often.
He made space.
He paused.
He rested—not just physically, but spiritually.
The Invitation We Tend to Ignore
And then He turned to us and said:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28 (NIV)
Not:
Come to me and I’ll give you more to do.
Not:
Come to me and I’ll make you more productive.
I will give you rest.
Why This Is Hard for Me/Us
If I’m honest, this is where I struggle.
Because resting feels… unproductive.
There’s always more I could be doing.
More I should be doing.
And in a culture that rewards busyness, rest can feel like falling behind.
But maybe that’s exactly the problem.
The Difference Between Stopping and Resting
Stopping is easy.
We all stop eventually.
But resting in the Spirit—the Spirit of God living within us—is something different.
It’s not just taking a break.
It’s leaning into the Holy Spirit within us.
It’s trusting that:
The world doesn’t depend on me
My worth isn’t tied to my output
God is still working… even when I’m not
What Resting in the Spirit Looks Like
It doesn’t have to be complicated.
Sometimes it looks like:
Pausing in the middle of a busy day
Taking a quiet walk without an agenda
Sitting with Scripture without rushing
Praying without trying to “get it right”
Sometimes it looks like simply saying:
“God, I trust You to carry what I can’t.”
A Better Way to Live
Jesus didn’t just model rest.
He lived from it.
Even in the middle of chaos, He remained grounded.
Even in the middle of demands, He remained connected.
Even in the middle of storms…
He slept.
Rest isn’t about escaping the storm. It’s about who you trust in the middle of it.
A Personal Reminder
This week, I need this reminder.
To pause. To breathe. To stop striving.
Not because there isn’t more to do…
but because I’m not meant to carry it all.
And neither are you.
A Final Encouragement
If you’ve been running hard…
If your mind feels crowded…
If your soul feels tired…
Maybe the most faithful thing you can do right now isn’t to push harder.
It’s to pause.
To rest.
To come back to the One who offered:
“I will give you rest.”
Not someday.
Not when everything is finished.
Now.
The same Spirit who sustained Jesus… is present with you and me right now.
A Question to Sit With
Where in my life am I being invited to stop striving…
Master's Canvas - Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter 