rebelling against low expectations
You’ve probably heard the fifth of the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:12a, “Honor your father and your mother….” It’s repeated throughout scripture in both the Old and New Testaments—see Deut. 5:16, Leviticus 9:3, Matthew 19:19, and Mark 7:10. Obviously, honoring parents is something God is serious about. Yet, it’s something many people struggle with—young and old. I say this because no matter how...
“Do you know what your spiritual gift is?” Ms. Flora asked as we sat on the swings at camp. It was something I hadn’t thought about in a while. “I know I have one, but I don’t remember what it is,” I replied at first. Suddenly I remembered, “Wait, it’s encouragement.” About a week later at church, the pastor preached a message on what makes Jesus...
Which is better: knowledge or godliness? What should you choose: learning and academia, a word that conjures up an image of an old professor hunched over a notebook amid a ridiculously crowded library, or hands-on actions taken to further the kingdom of God? The way the question is phrased, knowledge seems negative. Many Christians rebel against the idea of stuffy theology or doctrine that gets...
In a 24/7 world, it can be easy to overlook rest. We are constantly encouraged to multitask, consume large amounts of caffeine to maximize our buzz time, and calculate how to manipulate our circadian rhythm so we can give ourselves more hours each day to work. Even we, as Christians, get caught up in the world’s idea that we should always be working, and rest is a burden, not a blessing. But, are...
Daniel was a man of obstinate integrity. A rebel at heart, he dared to defy one of the most powerful empires in history in a successful effort to obey God. Though Daniel was just a youth when brought as captive from Israel to serve in Nebuchadnezzar’s palace, he understood the invaluable importance of living a holy life despite the moral deterioration of his pagan surroundings and even that of...
“But I don’t want to eat it,” whispered my younger self to my dad who was sitting next to me. On my lap sat a bowl of the later branded ‘chicken poop soup’ in all its grotesque congealed glory. The chunks of chicken intestine were not cleaned, so paired with the cooked feces, it radiated a wretched odor. “You have to,” dad whispered back, spooning some for himself. “It would be disrespectful not...
rebelling against low expectations
