The story of Abijah’s battle against Jeroboam is a striking picture of how humility and reliance on God can turn the tide, even when the odds seem impossible. Abijah, an imperfect and flawed king, stood before an army twice the size of his own and cried out to the Lord, trusting in His covenantal promises. The result? God answered, giving Judah victory in the face of overwhelming opposition.

“Our fathers sinned, and are no more; and we bear their iniquities.”
—Lamentations 5:7

The lament of Lamentations 5 carries a heavy sorrow—a sorrow not only for the sins of the present but also for the inherited weight of past generations. The prayer recounts devastation after devastation: loss of inheritance, hunger, enslavement, violence, and the haunting image of Zion, once the sanctuary of God, now abandoned to jackals. This sorrow-filled chapter is both a cry for mercy and a solemn reminder of the lasting consequences of sin.

"Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?"
— Job 2:10

The story of Job’s suffering unfolds like a storm cloud darkening the horizon. In the heavenly court, Satan again challenges Job’s integrity, insisting that if Job’s own body is afflicted, his faith will crumble. God, confident in Job’s sincerity, allows Satan to strike Job with a terrible illness. Job’s response, though anguished, is stunning in its simplicity: he continues to honor God, even as he sits in ashes, scraping his painful sores.

One of the most debated topics in Christian theology is the relationship between Jesus as Savior and Jesus as Lord in the life of a believer. The discussion often centers on the concept of Lordship Salvation, which teaches that one must fully submit to the Lordship of Christ at the moment of salvation. While this perspective seeks to emphasize the seriousness of following Christ, it can inadvertently blur the grace-centered nature of salvation, making it seem conditional upon human effort.

The concept of being "unequally yoked" comes from 2 Corinthians 6:14–18, where Paul warns believers not to form deep, binding relationships with those who do not share their faith. While often applied to marriage, this teaching has broader implications for all areas of life.

When viewed through a Christ-centered, grace-oriented lens, this passage is not about imposing restrictions but about living in the freedom and sufficiency of Christ’s life within us. It invites us to trust the Holy Spirit to guide our relationships and decisions rather than relying on rigid rules or self-effort.

Christian apologists often assert that Christianity is a rational faith. On the surface, this claim makes sense—Christianity offers coherent answers to life’s deepest questions: Who are we? Why is the world broken? What is our purpose? Yet, as Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:18, “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing.” For many, Christianity seems anything but rational.

Jesus Himself warned that following Him could lead to division, even within families (Matthew 10:34–36). His own family thought He was out of His mind (Mark 3:21). And for years, as an atheist, I shared a similar sentiment—Christianity seemed irrational, even absurd. But then something changed.

"I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser… every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit."
— John 15:1-2

Pruning is not pleasant, but it is purposeful. The Father, as the skilled vinedresser, cuts away what hinders fruitfulness. At first glance, it seems counterintuitive—why cut a flourishing branch? Yet, it’s through this pruning that a vine is prepared to bear even more abundant fruit.

Imagine a sculptor working on a marble block. Each chisel strike seems harsh and unnecessary, but the artist has a vision—one that requires removing every piece of stone that doesn’t align with the masterpiece within. In the same way, God lovingly removes from our lives what inhibits His life from fully expressing itself through us.

One of the most challenging questions posed to believers is, “If God is good, why does He allow suffering?” It’s a question that resonates deeply, especially when we face pain, loss, or hardship. Scripture does not shy away from the reality of suffering, and it offers a perspective that is both deeply personal and profoundly hopeful.

"As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,' said Jesus, 'but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.'"
— John 9:1–3

When we encounter suffering, it’s natural to ask, Why? The disciples' question about the blind man reflects a common assumption: that suffering is always tied to sin. Yet Jesus’ response redirects the focus. The man’s blindness wasn’t the result of his sin or his parents’ sin. It was an opportunity for God’s work to be displayed.

This truth challenges us to see hardships, not as evidence of punishment, but as a canvas for God’s glory.

"but test all things. Hold fast to what is good." — 1 Thessalonians 5:21 BSB

A. B. Simpson, in Days of Heaven, reminds us that our spiritual journey is not about perpetually starting over but building upon the truths God has already revealed to us. Imagine a gardener planting a tree. The gardener doesn’t uproot the tree every season to reexamine the soil but instead nurtures it, trusting the foundation while remaining attentive to its growth.

"But when it pleased God..."
— Galatians 1:15

Imagine you are setting the table for an important dinner guest. The table is carefully arranged, every dish chosen to perfection, the seating chart meticulously planned. But then, unexpectedly, your guest arrives with their own additions—a basket of bread, a dish of olives, and a jug of wine. Suddenly, your plans feel a bit out of place. You hadn’t prepared for this, and yet their contribution transforms the meal into something far richer than you had planned.

"This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is shed for you." — Luke 22:20
"Knowing that you were not redeemed with corruptible things, like silver or gold…but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot." — 1 Peter 1:18-19

When we come to the Lord’s Supper, we are reminded of the immeasurable riches found in the new covenant—a covenant sealed not by earthly treasures like silver or gold but by the precious blood of Christ. This is no mere symbol or ritual; it is a reality of abundant grace that transforms the life of every believer.

"For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace."
— 1 Corinthians 14:33

When we enter into life with Christ, it’s as if we’ve been invited into a grand orchestra. Before this, our lives resembled a chaotic symphony of discordant notes—each instrument playing its own tune, every section out of sync. But God, the Master Conductor, doesn’t leave us floundering in confusion. He steps onto the podium and gently brings the scattered pieces of our lives into harmony, creating a melody of peace.

The world has always sought greatness in power, intelligence, and status. Kings and philosophers, the influential and the highborn—these are the ones society celebrates. Yet, Paul writes that God deliberately chose what the world considers weak and foolish to reveal His wisdom and power. A crucified Messiah, despised and rejected by men, embodies God’s greatest triumph: the redemption of humanity.

The Corinthians, divided over allegiance to different teachers, needed to be reminded that their identity was not found in the wisdom of men but in the foolishness of the cross. This “foolishness” was, in fact, God’s ultimate wisdom, for through the humiliation of the cross, Christ defeated sin and death.

“To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours.” —1 Corinthians 1:2

The city of Corinth, with its rampant immorality, status-obsession, and idolatry, was an unlikely place for a flourishing church. Yet Paul begins his letter by addressing the believers there as "God’s holy people." What a remarkable truth: these believers, struggling in so many ways, were already sanctified in Christ and called to grow into what they were made to be.

The Gospel of Mark immerses us in the final days before Jesus’ crucifixion, where every moment and action carries deep significance. From His triumphal entry into Jerusalem to His cleansing of the temple, Jesus is preparing for the culmination of His mission. One of the most striking scenes in this passage is the cursing of the fig tree—a living parable that invites us to examine our faith, our fruitfulness, and our readiness for God’s coming kingdom.

Rehoboam’s reign presents us with a story of warning and hope. The Chronicler highlights a clear cycle at play: sin, divine discipline, humble repentance, and God’s merciful deliverance. Rehoboam and Judah abandoned the law of the Lord, inviting disaster in the form of Shishak’s attack. Yet even in their failure, God’s mercy shines when Rehoboam and the leaders humbled themselves. This act of repentance averted total destruction, demonstrating the unchanging character of God—just and merciful, ready to respond to a humble heart.

"The Lord’s anointed, our very life breath, was caught in their traps. We thought that under his shadow we would live among the nations."
— Lamentations 4:20

The fall of Jerusalem, vividly described in Lamentations 4, is a sobering picture of humanity’s frailty when stripped of God’s sustaining grace. Gold has lost its luster. Children starve. The once-proud priests are now defiled, and the people who were once radiant in appearance are reduced to shadows of their former selves. Everything precious and dignified is brought to ruin.

This chapter is a warning and a reminder: our humanity and dignity are not self-sustaining. Like a ship built for calm waters, we often don’t realize how fragile we are until the storm hits. Stripped of God’s provision, even the strongest can collapse under the weight of suffering.

The opening chapter of Job introduces us to an extraordinary man who is described as “blameless and upright.” Job isn’t perfect, but his life reflects integrity, both inwardly and outwardly. He is faithful to God, prosperous in all he does, and vigilant in his care for his family. Yet, despite his exemplary life, Job is thrust into unimaginable suffering as Satan challenges the authenticity of his faith.

The scene in heaven reminds us of a courtroom drama. God presents Job as a living testimony of faith, while Satan—the accuser—insists that Job’s devotion is conditional, rooted only in his blessings. To test this, God permits Satan to strip away Job’s wealth, his children, and his security.

The question of why the innocent suffer is one of the most difficult and emotional challenges posed to belief in God. Atheists may use this question to argue that a good and all-powerful God cannot exist if suffering, especially the suffering of the innocent, persists. The book of Job provides a robust, God-centered framework for addressing this issue—not by offering simplistic answers, but by shifting the focus from human reasoning to God's character, sovereignty, and ultimate purposes.