Some troubles don’t feel light. And many certainly don’t feel momentary.
When we’re in the thick of hardship—whether it’s grief, financial stress, health challenges, or just a string of frustrating setbacks—it can feel like the weight will never lift. The words of the Apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians almost sound naïve—if not downright mocking—at first glance:
“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
Paul must not have been through what I’ve dealt with in my life… at least that’s how it feels sometimes.
Really, Paul? Light and momentary?
But Paul isn’t dismissing our pain. He’s giving us perspective.
Perspective Matters
If we focus only on our struggles, they will seem unbearable. Heavy. Endless. That’s the nature of trouble—it fills the frame until it’s all we can see.
But if we widen our view—if we compare our present struggles with the endless joy and glory promised in heaven—then even the hardest trials begin to fade in comparison. It’s not that they stop hurting. It’s that they stop defining us.
Paul goes on to say:
“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
That’s the mindset shift that saves the day. The difference between being crushed under the weight of trouble and being sustained by the hope of eternity.
A Real-World Example
My daughter and son-in-law recently took their two very young sons—ages three and one—on an overseas flight to begin a Mediterranean cruise.
And almost everything that could go wrong, did.
Flights delayed. Missed connections. Re-bookings with scattered seats (a nightmare when traveling with toddlers). Entire days stuck in airports with two little boys. Finally reaching Italy—without their luggage. Boarding the wrong train.
It was chaos. Stressful. Exhausting. My daughter even told us at one point that she regretted going, that she had no idea how much of a nightmare it would be. And who could blame her?
But then—finally—they boarded their cruise ship. Their luggage turned up. Slowly, the stress began to dissipate. And now, just a few days into the cruise, they’re having the time of their lives.
When they were stuck in airports, wrangling toddlers, or realizing their luggage was missing, it certainly didn’t feel light or momentary. But looking back now, those struggles are already fading into the background of an amazing family adventure.
The Eternal Perspective
That’s a small picture of what Paul is saying in 2 Corinthians.
Life in this world is full of delays, detours, and disappointments. Some are small and temporary. Others are devastating and life-altering. But when we compare even the heaviest of them to the endless joy, peace, and glory of eternity with God and our friends and loved ones who are also followers of Christ, they become—miraculously—light and momentary.
Not because they don’t hurt. But because they can’t last.
Heaven will.
Final Thoughts
So when you feel weighed down by troubles that seem anything but light and momentary, remember Paul’s words. Shift your gaze. Fix your eyes on what is unseen.
Your troubles are real. But they are temporary. God’s glory is also real—and it is eternal.
One day, when you step into His presence, you will see it clearly:
“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” —2 Corinthians 4:17 (NIV)
It’s been a hard ten days. My dad passed away a week and a half ago, and while I know he is at peace now and no longer suffering, the ache of his absence is still fresh.
And a short time ago—while I was writing this blog—I got a phone call informing me that my son was in a car accident. Thankfully, everyone involved walked away uninjured, but now he’ll have to deal with the emotional and physical fallout that comes with it. Right now, he’s worried that he’s ruined his life. I pray in time he’ll see that God can redeem even this.
Grief, worry, stress—it’s all been heavy.
This week, in the Daily Audio Bible, we began reading the book of Job. As much as I’ve felt the weight of these past days, Job’s terrible day near the beginning of the book was unimaginably worse. In a span of hours, he lost his livelihood and all of his children. One messenger after another brought devastating news until his entire world collapsed around him.
And yet, Job’s response was not despair or bitterness, but worship:
“…The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
It is certainly much easier to bless the Lord when He gives than when He takes away. Honestly, that’s something I’ve been struggling with over the past 10 days. It’s hard to say “blessed be the name of the Lord” when I feel the sting of losing my dad and when my family faces unexpected challenges.
What Do We Take Away from Job’s Response?
For one thing, Job’s words remind us not to cling to any earthly thing more tightly than we cling to God. There is nothing wrong with loving others—especially our family and friends. In fact, when Jesus was asked what mattered most, He gave us two commands:
“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
Loving God comes first. Loving others comes second. Both matter deeply. But if we hold onto people, possessions, or even our own health more tightly than we hold onto God, we set ourselves up for heartbreak—because those things can be taken away in an instant.
At the same time, Job’s story also reminds me of something else I’ve been writing about recently: the importance of cherishing the time we do have with those we love. Life is fragile. It can all change in a moment.
So while I must guard my heart against making idols of family, friends, or even health, I must also refuse to take those gifts for granted.
Living in the Tension
That’s the tension I feel right now: grieving the loss of my dad, worrying about my son, and yet still hearing Job’s voice across the centuries saying, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
I can’t say I’ve fully arrived there yet. But I want to. And maybe that’s the point. Faith isn’t about pretending loss doesn’t hurt—it’s about choosing, even in the pain, to trust the One who gives and takes away.
I think that’s a key lesson we should all learn from the book of Job.
Final Thoughts
So what does all this mean for us?
It means hold fast to God above all else.
It means love your family and friends deeply—but never forget they’re gifts, not gods.
It means don’t take for granted the time you have with those you love.
And in the end, it means joining Job in the hard but holy confession:
“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Even in the loss. Even in the unknown. Even when it’s hard to say it like you mean it. Even in the pain.
This week I’m sharing something more personal. Rather than my usual reflections, I’ve written a poem in memory of my dad, who showed his love in quiet but powerful ways.
Life rolls ever onward— A stream, a river flowing Only one way, to the sea, Mysterious and deep.
Living and loving Bring pain, bring tears, Yet when done well, They bless you with smiles, Brush bright color On your memory canvas.
You came from a Generation where men Showed love more than Spoke it. You showed me In 5 am hockey practices, In working hard to Give us a home, a future. You taught me how to Lead my family, To work hard to Give them a home, a future.
I hope I showed you enough How thankful I am To have had you as my dad. I hope I made you proud.
I know you never Really liked it when I said it, But I’ll say it one more time anyway: I love you, Dad.
I’ll always carry a part of you With me.
David K. Carpenter August 17, 2025 In Loving Memory of Kurt L. Carpenter
I pray this poem reminds you of the quiet ways love is shown in your life — and of the legacy we each carry from those who have gone before us.
If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know I often celebrate God’s glorious grace—both in these posts and in my daily walk with Jesus. After all, without that grace, I’d be unfit for a relationship with Him.
But this week, I want to focus on something that gets less attention: truth. Not “my truth” or “your truth,” but God’s truth—the only truth there is.
Grace and Truth
In the opening paragraphs of his gospel, John the Apostle writes:
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
I love that it says “grace and truth.” Jesus didn’t come to earth just to hand out grace as a “get out of jail free” card—He came to embody the truth that sets us free:
In today’s climate of moral relativism, the idea of “God’s truth” (or absolute truth) can make some people roll their eyes. And sadly, people who don’t know God, Jesus, or the Bible well often picture Him as a stern rule-keeper—like a grumpy old high school principal obsessed with enforcing every regulation.
It’s not hard to see where that image comes from. The Old Testament contains the Ten Commandments, plus hundreds of other laws. Without understanding why they’re there, it’s easy to think God is just waiting for us to mess up.
Why So Many Rules?
Here’s the thing: God’s rules aren’t arbitrary. They’re not there to make life miserable or so He can “catch us in the act”—they’re there because He loves us. He wants to protect us and those around us.
For example:
We’re told to worship only Him because giving ultimate control of our hearts to anyone or anything else will eventually harm us.
We’re told not to commit adultery because it destroys relationships.
We’re told not to murder because it robs someone of the life God gave them.
Even some of the old dietary laws likely had health benefits in their time—protecting people from dangerous foods before modern medicine or refrigeration existed.
The point is this: God’s commands are meant to protect and bless us, not control us.
Jesus’ Summary
When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He boiled down hundreds of laws into just two:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
That’s it. If we love God fully and love others as we love ourselves, we’ll naturally live in line with God’s truth. With the truth.
Imagine…
Imagine a world where everyone lived this way:
Freedom from jealousy, anxiety, or insecurity.
Freedom from addictions.
Freedom from starvation, homelessness, or people being denied medical care they can’t afford.
That’s the kind of freedom Jesus was talking about. God’s truth sets us free—not just spiritually, but emotionally, relationally, and even physically.
That’s why He gave it to us.
God’s Truth Still Stands
So when Jesus says, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free,” He’s not just talking about knowing facts—He’s talking about knowing Him.
The more we align with His truth, the freer we become. And the more we live in His truth, the more we experience the peace, wholeness, and joy He longs to give us.
Grace and Truth, in the End
So that’s it, folks.
In the end, grace welcomes us home. And truth keeps us free once we get there.
If you’ve ever tried to do something truly good—something that draws you closer to God or helps someone else do the same—chances are, you’ve felt resistance. That’s not a coincidence.
It’s spiritual warfare.
The closer we get to God, the more the enemy pushes back. He hates everything good, pure, and Godly, so he opposes all of it. Sometimes it’s a full-frontal assault: temptation, addiction, shame, fear. Other times, it’s more insidious—quiet division, distorted assumptions, or whispers of doubt disguised as discernment. Tragically, this is often how he slithers into even the strongest churches and relationships.
A Tragic Example
Sadly, I’ve recently watched this play out in a heartbreaking way.
Before we moved to Florida, we attended a large church in Colorado Springs. Long before we arrived, the church had already endured more than its share of storms. Years ago, they brought in a new lead pastor to help steady the ship. The church was deeply in debt, and not long after he started, a violent tragedy took place on the campus—claiming the lives of two teenage girls.
But through it all, the church endured—and even flourished—largely because of this pastor’s Spirit-led leadership. Under his guidance, the church became a beacon of hope. They launched ministries like one that provides housing and support for single moms working to get back on their feet. I was there the night he felt prompted to take up an offering to buy protective gear for many members of the local sheriff’s department—gear the county couldn’t afford to provide. And the church stepped up. They filled in the gaps.
This was someone who modeled Christlike leadership. Someone who gave hurting people a place to encounter healing and grace.
Recently, however, a situation surfaced involving events from decades ago—events that didn’t directly involve this pastor, but had occurred at a previous church where he once served in a leadership role. A senior pastor at that church had engaged in inappropriate behavior 25 years prior. It’s unclear what was known by whom and when, but when it came to light in a newspaper recently, he addressed it openly in a Sunday message, sharing what he knew and acknowledging uncomfortable truths.
From everything I’ve seen, his character is unimpeachable. His humility, deep faith, and transparency never once caused me to doubt his integrity.
But a couple of weeks later, an elder at the church read a statement. It said, in essence, that because the elders did not believe all of his statements had been truthful, they had asked for his resignation—and he complied.
I don’t know all the facts. I’m not claiming to. But from the outside looking in, it seems devastating that a pastor who had so faithfully led the church through crisis after crisis would not be given the benefit of the doubt—especially over events from more than two decades ago.
It breaks my heart.
And yet, it feels all too familiar. When evil cannot find a weakness in the light, it tries to twist the shadows. If it can’t tear someone down with sin, it will try to do it with suspicion.
This, I believe, is what spiritual opposition looks like.
What Do We Do with This?
So what should we do when we find ourselves under attack—when temptation floods in, when doubts creep up, or when we’re unfairly criticized or doubted?
We turn to the One who has already won.
Scripture encourages us to pray without ceasing (1 Thess. 5:17). And in particularly fierce spiritual battles, Jesus tells us that some victories require not just prayer, but prayer and fasting (Mark 9:29 (NKJV). These aren’t just religious rituals—they’re lifelines.
We don’t fight spiritual battles in our own strength. If we do, we will lose.
We fight them by clinging to the One who already conquered the grave.
And here’s the strange truth: opposition is often a compliment. If the enemy is coming after you hard, it likely means you’re already doing good for the Kingdom—or he sees the potential in you to do so.
As the old saying goes:
If you’ve never felt under spiritual attack, it might be because you’re not a threat.
That’s not meant to shame or scare. It’s meant to remind us: we were made for more. And as we press into God’s purpose, we should expect resistance.
But we should never face it alone.
God Redeems What the Enemy Tries to Ruin
We need to remember that even when evil seems to win a round, it never gets the final word. God is still in control. He is still good. And He is still at work—even in the heartbreak, the confusion, and the fallout.
The outcome may not always look the way we think it should. I don’t see a way that the pastor I described above will return to that church. But even in the aftermath, it already seems like God is opening other doors for him. I’m reaching out to the pastor at our new church in Florida to see if we can bring him in as a guest pastor to speak to us at our new church home.
The evil one may have tried to use this moment to silence a faithful leader, but God has a history of turning disruption into deeper dependence, wounds into witness, and loss into something life-giving.
God rarely causes painful events—but He is always in the business of redeeming them. His power doesn’t just overcome evil; it transforms it into something useful for His purposes.
Final Thoughts
If you feel like you’re being opposed right now—emotionally, spiritually, relationally—it might not just be coincidence or bad luck. It might be that you’re nearing holy ground. That you’re on the verge of something God-ordained. And the enemy hates that.
So don’t give up. Don’t back down. Keep fighting. Pray. Fast. Link arms with trusted believers. Cling to Scripture and the Loving Creator it points to. Rest in the victory of Jesus.
If I were God, there would probably be a very long list.
A list of offenses. A list of failures. A list of words I regret saying—and some I regret not saying. A list of selfish thoughts, impure motives, prideful moments, wasted time. A list of failed (or at least delayed) intentions—I want to slow down (as I confessed last week) and focus on the things that are most important to me (as I mentioned two weeks ago), but I haven’t done a great job of either of those things since I wrote those words. I’m not giving up hope, but I’m also wondering when I’ll really get started.
If I were God, I might look at that list and say, “Wow, nope. Too much. He’s disqualified. I should write a mean post exposing the truth about him.”
But thank God I’m not God. And thank God Paul wrote Romans 8.
That’s the word that echoes in my soul when I read that passage. Nothing.
Not death. Not shame. Not my past. Not my present. Not even the worst version of myself on my worst days.
Paul’s list isn’t short, either. It’s a sweeping declaration of God’s unwavering love and our unbreakable position in Christ.
Nothing.
But Wait—Is There a Loophole?
And yet, if we’re being honest, it still raises questions for many of us. First of all, because it’s impossible to fathom someone loving us so deeply that there’s nothing I could do to break it.
I love my wife and I’m confident in the love she has for me. But no matter how strong it is, it is still love built out of human strength. I can think of a decent-sized list of things that we each could do that would seriously jeopardize the love we feel for one another. Of course, out of love and respect for one another, we avoid doing those things.
The point is that as deeply as we love one another, I can’t say with confidence that there’s nothing we could do to destroy that love. I certainly don’t say this to downplay the strength of the love my wife and I share, but rather to point out how infinitely stronger God’s love is for us.
Now, on to another question I’ve wondered sometimes. I mean, I really want God’s promise via His Apostle Paul to be true, but on the other hand, we’ve also heard Jesus say something that sounds like an exception:
“Truly I tell you, people can be forgiven all their sins and every slander they utter, but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; they are guilty of an eternal sin.”
Wait—what? Is there a loophole to the promise of Romans 8?
What About the Unforgivable Sin?
To understand Jesus’ words in Mark 3, we need to look at the context. The religious leaders had just accused Jesus of driving out demons by the power of Satan. In other words, they were witnessing the unmistakable work of the Holy Spirit—and calling it evil. Their hearts were so hardened, their pride so rooted, that they rejected the very Spirit who was meant to lead them to repentance and salvation.
So what is this “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit”?
It’s not just a moment of doubt. It’s not a poor choice of words in anger or fear. It’s a persistent, hardened rejection of the Spirit’s witness to and through Jesus Christ.
It’s choosing—intentionally, continually—to push God away.
And even then, the warning isn’t about God turning His back on us. It’s about us turning our back on Him so decisively that we no longer even hear His voice. We no longer want His love. We call His light darkness and His grace an insult.
That’s not a crack in the promise of Romans 8. It’s a tragic self-exclusion from it.
The Father Who Runs
Thankfully, that’s not most of us. In fact, if you’re even worried about whether you’ve gone too far or done too much, that’s a pretty good sign you haven’t.
You’re not hardened. You’re still listening. You’re still open. Maybe you’re just more than a little stubborn, or not yet convinced that Jesus is who He says He is or that God is really in control. Maybe you listen too much to the wisdom of this world and not enough to the wisdom of the God who made it.
And more than that, and more important—God is still pursuing you.
Jesus gives us a beautiful picture of this in the story He told that has come to be known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32). We tend to focus on the younger son—the rebel who squanders his inheritance and ends up eating with pigs. But let’s not forget the older son either—the one who stays but is still distant, bitter, and joyless.
One son ran away. We might call him the rebel child whose heart finally softened when he realized how foolish he had been. The other never left, but his heart sure did. We might call him the religious child whose heart has hardened to the point where he feels like the father owes him something. And yet the father runs toward both.
He meets the younger son while he’s still a long way off—arms open, no questions asked. He goes out to the older son too—inviting, pleading, reminding.
Why? Because the father’s love is not based on performance. It’s based on relationship. And he wants both of his sons to come home.
The Real List
So back to the title of this blog: The List of Things That Can Keep You from God.
According to Romans 8? It’s empty.
Nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Not addiction. Not divorce. Not failure. Not depression. Not doubt. Not all the stupid things you and I have ever done or ever will do. Not even death.
The only thing that can stand in the way is a heart that refuses to turn toward Him.
But if you’re willing to take even one step in His direction—even a limp, even a crawl—you’ll find that He’s already running toward you.
His love is relentless. His grace is radical. And His arms are open.
So today, tear up the list. Come home. He’s already on His way to meet you.
“Hi, my name is Dave, and I’m addicted to hurrying.” As part of my Hurriers Anonymous support group, you respond with the group in unison: “Hi Dave.”
It sounds a little funny, maybe even overdramatic—but the more I reflect on it, the more I believe that’s a real confession I need to make.
Last week, I wrote about the things I consider my top life priorities: faith, family, and friends—with health as a close fourth, not for vanity’s sake, but so I can better enjoy the first three. But here’s the honest truth: I can’t reflect those priorities well if I’m always rushing. You can’t hurry through rich moments with God. You can’t be truly present with your spouse or your kids or your best friend if you’re already mentally onto the next thing. You can’t enjoy God’s creation or the gift of good health if your soul is constantly speeding.
I’ve started reading the book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, by pastor and author John Mark Comer. In it he mentions that his mentor who’s not a mentor, John Ortberg, told him that his mentor, the late Dallas Willard once said to him:
“You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life. Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day.”
Dallas Willard
And then I stumbled on this gem, which kicked me right in the, um, gut (let’s go with that):
“Hurry is not just a disordered schedule. Hurry is a disordered heart.”
John Mark Comer
That one hit home.
Comer builds on this idea by offering this quote from Corrie ten Boom:
“If the devil can’t make you sin, he’ll make you busy.”
Corrie ten Boom
Comer himself then adds:
Because both have the same effect: they cut you off from your connection to God, to others, and even to your own soul.
John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry
All this adds up to a clear point—both sin and busyness can pull us away from what matters most: intimacy with God and connection with those around us.
A Contradiction in Motion
I’m somewhat of a walking contradiction—literally. I don’t get stressed if I’m a couple of minutes late. I try to be present. But my walking pace? It’s naturally fast. I’m always zooming ahead, especially compared to my 90-year-old father-in-law, who walks at a sloth’s pace (to be fair, he is almost 90 years old, although he has always been a slow walker as long as I’ve known him). And though I enjoy his company and try to walk beside him, I usually end up a few steps ahead, waiting and watching. Writing that out now, I realize how that visual kind of sums up this whole confession: I’m trying—but the pull of hurry is strong.
It wasn’t always this way. Or maybe it was, but I’ve had my moments of resistance. Several years back, when I worked in New York City—where “hurry” is a cultural badge of honor—I opted to walk to and from work instead of cramming into the subway or catching a car. I actually took my time in my own way, but still walked at a fairly rapid pace.
On the weekends, I’d often escape to one of the city’s botanic gardens with my camera in hand. My wife and friends would tease me for taking pictures of every flower I passed. But here’s the thing: you can’t hurry a good photograph. You have to slow down. You have to observe. You have to notice—the way the light hits a petal, the shimmer of dew, the angle of the sun. Those small, quiet pauses have sustained me in some of life’s most chaotic seasons. Those walks, and the stillness they brought, restored my soul. I think that’s one reason I love photography so much.
When taking these walks, these verses would often pop into my mind:
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.
Psalm 23:2-3 (NIV)
My Walks with God
These days, my morning walks are my quiet time with God. I still walk fast—it’s also for fitness—but I listen to Scripture through the Daily Audio Bible podcast. Lately, I’ve also added in the Bible Department podcast and associated Bible reading (listening), sometimes racking up six or more chapters a day. Then comes my prayer time.
Because I have tinnitus (constant ringing in my ears), I typically play praise music while I pray to mask the noise. But if I’m honest, I’ve been getting distracted. My mind wanders. A lyric triggers a thought, which leads to a memory, which leads to a to-do list, and suddenly I’m a million miles away from the presence of God.
Today, though, something strange happened. After my podcast ended, my phone glitched, and the music didn’t play. I was about to fix it—habit, really—but something stopped me. I thought of The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry and Comer’s encouragement to unplug.
So I just hiked up the steep hills. No music. Just the rhythm of my steps, the sound of the wind, the tinnitus (still ringing), and the (very fast!) beat of my heart. For the first time in a while, my prayer time was focused. Clear. Honest. Holy.
Maybe I’m finally on the road to recovery.
Presence Requires Slowness
When I reflect on my career, I can’t help but feel like I’ve often let it crowd out what’s most important. Like many of you, I had to work to support my family. But more often than not, I gave more than the expected 40 hours. I gave my thoughts, my energy, my time—sometimes at the expense of the things I said were my priorities. And now, with retirement on the horizon, I can say it: It wasn’t always worth it.
That’s not to say I regret my work or that work isn’t valuable. But I wish I’d found a better balance. I wish I’d slowed down more. I wish I’d prioritized the people I love and the God I serve the way I meant to. Because real connection—whether with God or with others—requires presence. And presence requires slowness. It requires putting the phone down long enough to engage at the heart level. And not picking it back up until the conversation has run its course.
How often do we do that with God? How often do we do it with our spouse or other loved ones?
Although it took Comer’s book to remind me and teach me some valuable lessons, God Himself has given us similar guidance long before Comer put pen to paper:
Be still, and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10 (NIV)
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28 (NIV)
But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.
Luke 5:16 (NIV)
If Jesus—the Savior of the world—made time to “unplug” and slow down, then who am I to think I can do life without rest?
🛐 The Invitation to Slow Down and Rest
In fact, Jesus invites us to join Him. Imagine that you are in a hurry to get somewhere, walking fast so you’re not late. You bump into Jesus. Instead of getting the clue that you’re in a rush and stepping aside, He grins, a twinkle in His eye, making it clear how glad He is to see you. He gently places a hand on your shoulder and says:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Jesus, in Matthew 11:28–30 (NIV)
What a beautiful invitation. If you think about the pace of Jesus’s life, He’s giving us an opportunity to slow down. He definitely had busy times, with so many people wanting to hear Him speak and have Him heal them, but He never seemed to be in a hurry. He walked everywhere. He took time to stop and engage with people. He also made no apologies about going off to quiet places to pray, to be at One with His Father, to restore His soul.
If we’re going to yoke ourselves to Him, we’re going to have to let Him set the pace. The yoke, as a farming tool, connected two animals together to harness the power of both of them together. Of course, this approach doesn’t work if the beasts walk at different paces.
Also, when two animals were joined together to share the work, the stronger one carried most of the load while the other simply stayed in step.
So this is how He gives us rest: by forcing us to slow down, by doing most of the work.
He guides us slowly, beside the still waters. He sets a table for us in the middle of the hustle and bustle all around us. He invites us to stay for a while, enjoying a meal and His company. Laughing. Listening to the gentle stream and the birds singing their melodies. Inhaling the scent of fresh cut grass, breathing deep drafts of His peace.
Instead of being driven by stress, performance, or expectations, we can take time to linger in the presence of Someone who loves us more than life itself. Someone who is never distracted by His phone, who makes you feel like the most important person in the world to Him.
Life Led By Grace
That’s the kind of life Jesus invites us into—not one with more to do, but one with less to carry alone. When we walk with Him, we’re not pulled by guilt or driven by fear. We’re led by grace. And that changes everything.
I don’t share any of this to guilt you (or myself). I share it because I want to get better. I want to be more present—with God, with my wife, with my family and friends. I want my soul to breathe again. And I suspect maybe you do too.
So let’s start here: Hi, my name is Dave, and I’m learning to slow down.
Lately, my dad has been having significant health challenges, which have caused me to reflect deeply. Not just about him, but about myself—and the way I’ve been leading my own life.
If someone asked me to name the three most important things in my life, I’d answer without hesitation: Faith, family, and friends.
If I could add a fourth, it would be health, because taking care of myself enables me to maximize the time I enjoy with the other three.
But here’s the uncomfortable part: When I look back over the years—and especially at my calendar throughout my career—those priorities weren’t always reflected in how I spent my time.
⏰ What Does Your Calendar Say?
If someone had only my calendar to go by, they might assume my career was my number one priority.
Don’t get me wrong—I needed to work, just like most people do. Providing for my family was (and still is) important. And I took pride in doing my job well. But somewhere along the line, “doing it well” sometimes meant doing it endlessly. Logging hours that were never paid. Missing time with family to meet deadlines. Travelling to meet with clients I didn’t particularly like instead of connecting with friends I love. Mentally staying at work even after I left the office.
All in the nebulous pursuit of success—just to get ahead.
And now, as I get closer to the end of my full-time career, I find myself wondering: Was all of that extra time worth it?
🔄 Rethinking the Balance
Work has its place—it’s honorable and often necessary. But even Scripture reminds us that there is a time for everything:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.
The question is: Did I reserve the best of my time—and energy—for what I claim matters most?
And am I doing that now?
I’ve certainly improved, but I’m not confident that I am where I want to be yet.
Similarly, for too long, I allowed my career to disrupt my health. I was overweight and overstressed. Thankfully, I took control of it several years ago, and now I make fitness a priority regardless of how busy I am at work.
🙏 Faith First?
Many people would likely list family and friends as top priorities. That makes sense—we’re wired for connection and community.
But what about faith?
Many of us say that God is important, but does our daily life reflect that belief? It’s one thing to talk about faith—it’s another to live it as your first priority. Jesus said:
Too often, we try to fit faith into our schedules—rather than letting faith shape our schedules.
And yet, when faith is prioritized—when God is first—everything else seems to fall into its proper place. We gain peace. We find purpose. We become better parents, better friends, better people.
The Eternal Aspect
There’s another element of faith relevant to family and friends. For those of us who are followers of Christ, I believe we will be reunited with loved ones who are also believers. And if we love the time we get to spend with them now, imagine what it will be like to be together—unhurried—in paradise, with no bitterness, jealousy, or deadlines.
Of course, this isn’t the only reason to have faith in Jesus—there are countless other blessings associated with a relationship with Jesus—but it’s another good one to add to the list.
As Paul pointed out in his letter to the church in Rome:
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.
As I think about the years ahead, I realize that the time I spent on work will fade from memory. But I’ll remember the hikes with my kids, the dinners with friends, the quiet walks with God as I start my days. And I’ll appreciate the benefits of improving my health.
Those things will last longer than titles, longer than the stuff I’ve acquired over the years, longer than the impact I’ve made on clients, companies, or coworkers.
So here’s the question for you—and for me: Does the way we spend our time match the list of what we say matters most?
If not, it’s not too late to recalibrate.
Start small. Start now. Start with one thing that reflects your true priorities—and build from there.
✨ Call to Action: What’s one small change you can make today that better reflects your true priorities? Don’t wait for the perfect season. Start now—with one step of intentional living.
As fireworks light up the night sky and flags ripple in the summer breeze, many of us pause to celebrate the freedoms we enjoy as citizens of the United States. But for followers of Christ, Independence Day can also invite us to reflect on another kind of freedom—a deeper, more eternal one.
Freedom is more than just the absence of tyranny. True freedom includes both freedom from and freedom to. And at both the national and spiritual level, our freedom came at a great cost.
🦅Freedom From (as a Nation)
Living in a free country like the United States means we are—at least in principle—free from many things:
Freedom from oppressive rule
Freedom from being judged by our lineage or physical appearance
Freedom from government interference in how we live, worship, speak, and move
No country is perfect, and we still have work to do. But compared to much of the world, these freedoms are incredible blessings—and they didn’t come easily.
✝️ Freedom From (Spiritually)
On a spiritual level, followers of Jesus have been given freedom from:
The crushing weight of sin
The fear of eternal separation from God
The emptiness of chasing worldly success as the ultimate prize
As the Apostle Paul reminds us in his letter to the Galatians:
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
In Christ, we are no longer bound by the law or by shame—we are free from having to earn our way to God. That burden has been lifted.
🦅 Freedom To (as a Nation)
American freedom also includes powerful freedoms to:
Freedom to pursue happiness (though not guaranteed, the opportunity to pursue it is available)
Freedom to live where we want
Even the freedom to leave and seek a different life elsewhere—though few places offer the same breadth of opportunity—is something not everyone in the world enjoys
Freedom to believe—and even disbelieve—what we choose
Freedom to live into the truth that all people are created equal
Freedom to speak our minds
Freedom to worship as we see fit
Freedom to rise above setbacks and pursue your version of the American dream with determination and hope—something many in the world only dream of
Of course, with great freedom comes great responsibility. Our rights end where they infringe on the rights of others. And Jesus modeled how to use our freedom for good—by loving our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:39).
✝️ Freedom To (Spiritually)
God’s freedom isn’t just about avoiding punishment. It’s about transformation and invitation:
Freedom to live into the wholeness, peace, and purpose Jesus offers
Freedom to start fresh, no matter our past
Freedom to pursue a relationship with the God who made us (without worrying about strictly following human-made rituals or traditions)
Freedom to reflect God’s goodness and grace in a broken world
But as Paul cautions:
What then? Shall we sin because we are not under the law but under grace? By no means!
Grace is not a license to do whatever we want. Instead, it frees us to become who we were meant to be—people who live in step with God’s Spirit.
🗽 The Price of Freedom
For Our Nation
From the Revolutionary War through today, countless men and women have laid down their lives to earn and protect the freedoms we now enjoy. Many of us will never know their names, but we benefit every day from their sacrifice.
So when I hear people tear down this country without acknowledging those sacrifices, I feel a deep sadness. Yes, we must always seek opportunities to improve ourselves, our communities, and our nation. But we should never lose sight of the price that’s been paid for the freedoms we often take for granted.
For Our Souls
Spiritually, the cost was even greater.
Paul writes:
Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Jesus didn’t die for perfect people. He died for the broken, the lost, the proud, the rebellious—for you and me. That’s the cost of our spiritual freedom: the blood of the sinless Son of God.
🎆 Final Reflections
Freedom from. Freedom to. And the unimaginable price paid.
Reflecting upon this Independence Day weekend, let’s celebrate the blessings of our country. But let’s also go deeper. Let’s thank God for the spiritual freedom we have through Jesus—and let’s use that freedom not for ourselves, but to bless others.
Because freedom isn’t just something to protect. It’s something to live out—with gratitude, with responsibility, and with love.
🙏 Your Move
As you enjoy time with friends, fireworks, and family this weekend, take a moment to do two things:
Thank a veteran or active service member for the freedoms you enjoy
Thank God for the opportunity to live in a country that allows you to enjoy such freedoms
Thank God for the spiritual freedom available through Jesus—and ask how you can use it to bless someone else this week
We live in a world that often insists, “If you can’t see it, it isn’t real.” Our culture prizes what’s visible, tangible, and scientifically provable. But Scripture tells us again and again that there’s far more going on around us than we can perceive with our physical senses.
Unseen battles. Unseen forces. Unseen help.
Many of us—even those who follow Christ—drift through life unaware of the spiritual war being waged all around us. We get caught up in the stress of deadlines, the grief of loss, the uncertainty of our futures, and the pain of feeling alone. But what if we’re not alone? What if we’re just not seeing clearly?
📖 The Story of Elisha and the Chariots of Fire
In 2 Kings 6, Elisha’s servant wakes up one morning to find that their city is surrounded by an enemy army. He panics—and understandably so! From all outward appearances, they’re hopelessly outnumbered.
But Elisha responds with calm assurance:
“Don’t be afraid. Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
What had seemed like certain defeat was, in fact, a situation completely under God’s control. Protection had been there all along—it just hadn’t been visible. At least not to Elisha’s servant, or to anyone who didn’t have eyes open enough to see.
👁️ Spiritual Warfare Is Real
Ephesians 6:12 reminds us of what’s really going on:
There’s a very real battle happening beyond our sight. The enemy of our souls wants to discourage us, divide us, and destroy our faith. But God doesn’t leave us defenseless. He equips us and surrounds us with spiritual resources—even angelic protection—that we often overlook.
I find it humorous how Halloween and Christmas pageant costumes have devolved so far from the way they are depicted in the Bible. Nearly every time an angel appears to a human in the Bible, the first thing he says to the person is, “Don’t be afraid.” Based on this, I imagine that angels must be terrifying to behold—a far cry from a toddler adorned with a white robe and little wings.
As a case in point, there’s a passage in 2 Kings that depicts how terrifying angels must be. During King Hezekiah’s reign, Jerusalem was under threat by the Assyrian army under Sennacherib. Hezekiah prayed, and God sent an angel—who doesn’t even warrant having his name mentioned—who wiped out the enemy army in one night!
That night the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies!
And I don’t imagine that Satan and the other fallen angels would be any less frightening if we could see them. Demons are probably very scary as well. Most likely, none of them are comical or even sexy, like they are often portrayed.
⚔️ We’re Not Fighting Alone
Psalm 34:7 gives us this encouragement:
“The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them.” — Psalm 34:7 (NIV)
Jesus Himself reassured His disciples (and us) of His presence, even when He returned to heaven:
“Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” — Matthew 28:20b (NIV)
And Hebrews reminds us:
“Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?” — Hebrews 1:14 (NIV)
You are not alone. Not now. Not ever.
🙏 Pray for Eyes to See
So, if you’re overwhelmed… If it feels like you’re surrounded by enemies—be they spiritual, emotional, or physical… If you’re feeling like there’s nobody to talk to about your trials or who understands your challenges… If you’re discouraged and wondering whether God sees what you’re going through…
Pray this simple prayer: “Lord, open my eyes.”
Ask Him to reveal the spiritual reality. Ask Him to show you the protection you didn’t realize was there. Ask Him to allow you to perceive the One who walks beside you, listening to your whispered prayers. Ask Him to help you trust—not just what you see—but what He has promised.
📯 Closing Thoughts
Let’s not go through life believing only in what we can touch or measure. Let’s not underestimate the reality of spiritual warfare—or the power of God’s help.
You may feel outnumbered, outmatched, alone, or overwhelmed. But there are chariots of fire all around you. There is a King who fights on your behalf. There is a Host of heaven that marches at His command.
Master's Canvas - Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter 