Applying the Bible

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:17 about staying faithful to the calling God has entrusted to you.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:17 about staying faithful to the ministry God has entrusted to you, receiving accountability with humility, and finishing your calling well in every season.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:10-15 about how Paul's network of greetings reveals a call to intentional, sincere connection—pushing back against the isolation and superficiality of modern life with the genuine love of Christ.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:10-15 about how Paul's network of greetings reveals a call to intentional, sincere connection—pushing back against the isolation and superficiality of modern life with the genuine love of Christ.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:12-13 about Epaphras, whose fervent, struggling prayer for believers to stand mature in God's will reflects a depth of love and devotion worthy of imitation.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:10 about Mark's journey from rejection to restoration, calling believers to choose humility over pride and let Christ set the tone of their testimony.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:5-6 about using time wisely with gracious speech, spiritual discernment, and Spirit-led restraint.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:2-4 encouraging steadfast prayer, watchfulness, and thanksgiving while praying for gospel opportunities and clear witness.

A Christian devotional on Colossians 4:1, calling leaders to treat others with justice, fairness, and accountability before God.

Explore Colossians 3:25 and the sobering reality of God's impartial justice for every wrongdoer, regardless of status.

Discover how to serve Christ in everything you do. A Colossians 3:22–24 devotional on obedience, sincerity, and eternal reward.

Explore Paul's practical instructions in Colossians for honoring God within the family unit.

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Colossians 3:17) When the word of Christ dwells richly in you—shaping your mind, guiding your heart, and influencing your actions—it naturally flows into this: whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. This isn't about tacking on “in Jesus' name” to your speech. It's about living in such close union with Him that His character governs both what you say and what you do. Words and deeds go together—speech without action is hypocrisy, and action without truth is empty. When we are mindful of God, His Word influences the smallest details of our lives. And when everything is done in His name, gratitude becomes the constant soundtrack of our days. James reminds us that every good gift comes from the Father of lights. The more we notice those gifts, the more thanksgiving overflows—and the more thanksgiving overflows, the less space anxiety has to live in us. This is a cycle worth engaging in and guarding: Richly indwelling Word → God-shaped actions → thanksgiving → peace → more desire for richly indwelling word. As that cycle continues, living for God isn't a striving effort—it's the natural rhythm of a heart hidden in Christ.

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. (Colossians 3:16) Paul commands us to let the word of Christ dwell in us richly. That word for dwell in the Greek means “to inhabit” or “influence.” This isn't just the Word taking up shelf space in your mind—it's the Word moving in, rearranging the furniture, and shaping how you think, feel, and act. Without influence, we're hearers only, not doers (James 1:22). The word richly in the Greek means “abundantly.” A casual verse here and there is a spray bottle of refreshment; Paul's talking about a dunk tank. We're meant to be soaked, saturated, and dripping with Scripture until it seeps into everything. And it's only when the Word richly inhabits us that we can truly fulfill the rest of the verse: teaching and admonishing one another. The word teaching in the Greek means “to instruct through discourse.” It's not lecturing; it's walking together in truth. The word admonishing in the Greek means “to warn, caution, or gently reprove”—literally “to put in mind.” It's not just telling someone they're wrong; it's lovingly pointing them toward what God says is right and letting them choose to obey. If done without love and patience, teaching and admonishing does damage rather than building up. Paul also mentions singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Music aligns our hearts to what our minds know about God, helps truth stick, and gives voice to our joy, awe, and dependence. But in all of it, don't forget the thread that ties it together: thankfulness. Gratitude isn't a garnish—it's an essential ingredient to our walk with God. Science confirms what Scripture declared: the mind cannot dwell on anxiety and gratitude at the same time. When God's Word dwells in you richly, and you respond with a thankful heart, you're not just surviving—you're singing.

And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. (Colossians 3:14-15) Paul has just given us a list of virtues to put on, but now he says, Above all these, put on love. Why? Because love binds everything together in perfect harmony. Without love, compassion can be cold, kindness can be self-serving, humility can be pride in disguise, meekness can be weakness, and patience can be mere tolerance. Love transforms them all into Christlike character because God Himself is love. But Paul doesn't stop there. He tells us to let the peace of Christ rule in our hearts. That word “let” implies we have a choice—God's peace is available, but we can resist it. We can fight Him, wrestle Him like Jacob did, and insist on controlling our own hearts. Or we can surrender, allowing His peace to take the throne and call the shots in our life. This peace is not just the absence of conflict—it's the presence of God's ruling authority, guarding our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus—if we let it . And then, a simple but profound command: Be thankful. Gratitude is a choice. Science has confirmed what Scripture has long said—our human mind cannot dwell on gratitude and anxiety at the same time. One displaces the other. So when anxiety comes knocking, answer with thanksgiving. Let love bind, let peace rule, and let gratitude flow. The result? A heart in harmony with God and others.

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. (Colossians 3:12-13) Paul reminds us who we are before he tells us what to do – we are chosen, holy, and beloved by God. This identity isn't earned—it's given. And it's the foundation for everything else. Only when we truly know and believe that we are chosen by the Father, set apart as holy for His purposes, and dearly loved by Him, will we have the desire and the strength to put on the qualities of compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. If we skip straight to “bearing with” and “forgiving” without first clothing ourselves in these qualities and virtues, we will quickly find ourselves frustrated and empty. It's like trying to push a cart forward rather than letting the horse pull it from the base of its strength—it's exhausting and ineffective. Those virtues are the strong legs that pull the weight of relationships forward and actually allow us to bear with and forgive each other. Once we have put those virtues on, bearing with one another becomes spiritually natural. Forgiving becomes less about our willpower and more about God's Spirit flowing through us. The same God who chose you and calls you holy is the One enabling you to love others as He loves you. Let Him clothe you, and you will find yourself doing what once felt impossible—because it will be Christ in you.

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming. In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. (Colossians 3:5-10) Paul's words here are both sobering and freeing—put to death what is earthly in you, put away the old ways, and put on the new self. The “earthly” in us is not neutral; it is idolatry, because it serves self rather than God. Jesus Himself said that to follow Him, we must deny ourselves and take up our cross daily (Luke 9:23). Crucifixion wasn't quick—it was long, grueling, and deeply painful. In the same way, putting to death the earthly desires in us is often a slow and costly process. The flesh will fight to survive, because it's part of us. But if we are in Christ, we must choose to nail it to the cross—those selfish desires, those lustful thoughts, that prideful outlook, that lingering bitterness—and refuse to let them climb back down. Putting them to death means also putting away the behaviors and attitudes that flow from them: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk. These don't erupt out of nowhere; they start as desires, turn into thoughts, grow into emotions, and then become actions. Cut them off at the root. But God never tells us to simply empty ourselves and leave the space vacant. Right after putting off the old self, we are told to put on the new self. In Christ, this new self is already ours positionally—we have been clothed in His righteousness. Now, in practice, we walk, speak, and act in a way that reflects it. And this new self is not stagnant; it's being renewed in knowledge after the image of its Creator. Day by day, as we submit to God's work in us, the old fades, the new grows, and our lives look more like Jesus. So today, heed the command – put to death therefore what is earthly in you – and put on the new self.

When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. (Colossians 3:4) The world clings desperately to life and fears death, but for those hidden in Christ, death is no longer a terrifying end—it's a doorway to gain Whom we've lived for. Jesus has already defeated death, and because we are in Him, the grave no longer has the final word - He does. It's simply the moment we step from walking with God by faith to seeing Him face to face in the fullness of glory. This promise is certain: when Christ appears, we will appear with Him—transformed, radiant, and fully alive in His presence. But that's the then. Until that moment comes, this truth should still shape our now. Philippians 1:21 says, “To live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Can we honestly say that's true of us? People are often known for what they live for—which often turns out to be sports, career, hobbies, etc. But for the follower of Jesus, our identity and devotion should be summed up in this: “Christ is my life.” Our calendars, conversations, and choices inevitably reveal what we truly live for. The question now that remains: Is Christ YOUR life? This is something we should dig into with God. Because this is one of the major areas the devil tries to deceive us in. The enemy actively works to deceive us into thinking God doesn't love us as much as He does – and also works to deceive us into thinking that we love God more than we do. We know the “right Christian answer” is “Christ is my life” but is He really? I encourage you to take time with the Lord and ask Him to reveal if there is anything currently in the way of saying that honestly – Christ is my life.

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. (Colossians 3:1-3) Paul calls us to seek the things above and set our minds there—but this isn't just a nice suggestion. This command is given in the present tense, meaning it's meant to be our continual way of life. Yet, interestingly, the verb is in the passive voice. That means we're not the originators of this action—God is—but we are active cooperators. God works; we respond. Being raised with Christ and hidden in Him means our identity is secure. It should stir us to willingly join in His work, turning our gaze from the fleeting shadows of earth to the eternal realities above. Philippians 4:8 reminds us to fix our thoughts on what is true, pure, and praiseworthy—things that align with heaven's perspective. God is the Author and Finisher of our faith, but He doesn't force our cooperation. Every day, we choose whether to align our thoughts with His or drift with the currents of this world. To set your mind on things that are above is to make a conscious, ongoing choice to forsake the pull of the temporary and anchor yourself in the eternal. In doing so, we live not just for Christ, but with Christ—securely hidden in Him, awaiting the day our lives are fully revealed in glory. So if you have been raised in Christ – seek the things that are above.

Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ… If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations— “Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch” (referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh. (Colossians 2:16-17, 20-23) Christ has called us to freedom—so why live under the weight of legalism? Paul warns that there will be those who judge us for not keeping their man-made rules or interpretations of the Law. But the Law was only a shadow, and chasing shadows when we have the substance—Christ Himself—is a tragic waste. Romans 10:4 says Christ is the end of the Law for righteousness to everyone who believes. He fulfilled it. Now His Spirit lives in us, writing God's law on our hearts. We're no longer bound by the Law, but we willingly walk in its moral truth as we follow our Savior in freedom. Paul reminds us we have died to the world and are alive in Christ—so why submit again to its regulations? Galatians 5:1 is clear: we've been set free, so don't take on the yoke of slavery again. Legalistic rules may look wise and offer an enticing image of “Christianity”, but verse 23 tells us they are nothing more than self-made religion—powerless to actually stop the indulgence of the flesh. Only God can keep us from stumbling and present us blameless (Jude 1:24–25). When we try to add our own works to secure righteousness, we're feeding pride and rejecting the simplicity of grace. Jesus already paid our debt with His very life. The only truly correct response to God's grace is to receive it fully, walk in His freedom, and abide in Him—the only place where true victory over the flesh is found.

And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him. (Colossians 2:13-15) Before Christ, we weren't just “struggling” or “a little lost”—we were spiritually dead in our trespasses. Dead men walking. Like prisoners on death row, we were bound in the dark prison of this world, awaiting the final execution of our sentence. But God stepped in. He sent His Son, Jesus—much like a judge sending his own child into the prison to take the place of the guilty. Jesus took our sentence, bore our punishment, and died in our place. Justice was satisfied. Our record of debt, with every single charge against us, was nailed to the cross and marked paid in full. And it didn't stop there. God raised Jesus from the dead, and in doing so, made us alive together with Him. Not only were the cell doors unlocked, but Jesus flung them wide open. We aren't meant to stay wandering the prison yard—we're called to walk out in freedom, into His marvelous light. So why do so many believers live under the chains of legalism, guilt, and shame? Pride whispers that we aren't worth such a gift and that we need to “pay back” at least part of the cost. But grace doesn't work like that. If we're still trying to earn God's favor, we've missed the reality and grace of the cross. The record is gone, the debt is erased, and the enemy's accusations have been disarmed because the Father looks at us in the same way that He sees Jesus. All that's left is for us to receive the gift fully and walk in the freedom Christ has already purchased. Does anything hold you back? We can label it pride, because that's a foundation, but push beyond that. Get alone with God and ask Him to reveal what might be holding you back from walking in freedom. The work has been finished. The debt has been paid. So let's walk like we're free – because in Christ we are!

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority. (Colossians 2:8-10) Paul warns the Colossians—and us—to be on guard. In 2 Corinthians 10:5, we're told to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. Philippians 4:8 tells us exactly what kinds of things we should dwell on. This passage echoes that call but with a sharp warning: do not let your mind be taken captive by the world's wisdom. The philosophies and deep thoughts of the world may sound enticing, but to God they are foolishness. Paul says they are “empty deceit”—void of true substance and full of lies. They are not according to Christ, and that alone should be enough for us to reject them without hesitation. Why? Because we already have everything we need in Christ. The fullness of God dwells bodily in Him, and because He indwells us, His full authority rests over us. If Christ is our Head, then we are to submit our minds, wills, and lives entirely to Him. To submit them to the master of this world through deceptive philosophies, human traditions, or the elemental spirits is to willingly step under a rule that has no rightful claim over us. The enemy is the father of lies, and he has no authority over the children of God. Therefore, we have no business dabbling in his “wisdom” or entertaining his ideas. Our focus must remain fixed on Jesus Christ—our Head, our Master, our God. He alone is truth, and He alone is worthy of captivating all of our heart and mind.

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. (Colossians 2:6-7) Paul begins this passage by reminding us of what happened when we first received Christ. The Greek word here for ‘received' means “to join to oneself, to associate with oneself.” When we came to faith, we weren't just agreeing to a set of beliefs—we were joined to Jesus Himself, becoming one with Him. Our identity is now in Jesus. Because of that union, Paul commands us to walk—to regulate and conduct our lives—in Christ. The word “in” (en) here is beautiful. It denotes a fixed position, a place of rest, where we give ourselves wholly to Christ. It's not like “with” (para), which means to be close beside. We are in Him, abiding and resting in that relationship. Paul then describes three things God has done and is doing in us: Rooted – This verb is in the perfect tense, meaning it's a completed action with lasting effect. We have been firmly planted in Christ, our stable and unshakable foundation. Built up – Present tense. God is actively building on that foundation in an ongoing, continual way. Established – Also present tense. God is continually stabilizing and making us steadfast in our faith and fellowship with Him. Also take notice that these three verbs are written in what's called the passive voice in the Greek—meaning we are the receivers of the action, not the doers. God Himself is the One rooting, building, and establishing us. Our role? Abide. And Paul ends with a command: be abounding in thanksgiving. The Greek means to overflow beyond measure, to excel in gratitude. This isn't polite table-grace thankfulness—it's an extravagant, overflowing response to God's grace. The word thanksgiving (eucharistia) reminds us of the heart posture we are to carry daily: gratitude for the One who gave Himself so we could receive Him, be rooted in Him, and grow in Him. We began by receiving Christ; we continue by resting in Him and letting Him do the work that keeps us stable, grounded, and overflowing in thanks. So continue to abide in Him, abounding in thanksgiving, and let God do that work!

For I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you and for those at Laodicea and for all who have not seen me face to face, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. I say this in order that no one may delude you with plausible arguments. For though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good order and the firmness of your faith in Christ. (Colossians 2:1-5) Paul had just finished explaining how he toils and struggles through the power of God to proclaim Christ and make disciples. Then, he shifts his tone in chapter 2 with a deeply personal note—he tells the Colossians of his struggle for them, using a word that implies deep, intense concern. He longed for their hearts to be encouraged, for them to be unified in love, and for their faith to be anchored in the full assurance of Christ. He wanted them to grow in maturity so they wouldn’t be deceived by persuasive arguments that sound good but lead away from truth. That should make us pause and ask ourselves: Do I have this kind of concern for others? Do I long for their encouragement, unity, and growth in Christ the way Paul did? Or am I too quick to critique immaturity instead of stepping into the loving work of building others up through grace and truth? If we want to love people like this—to see them as God sees them—we have to examine my own hearts first. Pride and self-focus are subtle but powerful barriers. They keep us from humbly loving, from listening, from lifting others above ourselves. But the good news is, this kind of love isn't something we have to muster on our own. Just like Paul said in Colossians1:29, this struggle is done with God's energy, which He powerfully works within us. So, let's return again to the instruction: Abide in Christ. Remain in Him. Let Him do the work in you and through you.

To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ. For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me. (Colossians 1:27-29) The mystery once hidden but now revealed is this: Christ in us, the hope of glory. This reality should shake us to our core—not just comforting us, but transforming us. We are not just saved; we are co-heirs with Christ. And in that transformation, we don't stay silent. We proclaim Him. We warn. We teach with all wisdom – not to boast in knowledge, but so that every person may be presented mature in Christ. Discipleship flows from love, and it's not optional. It's a call that requires our surrender. It means giving up comfort, being willing to teach and be taught, to share what God has given and humbly receive from others. Jesus modeled this in His earthly ministry, and He commissioned us to follow in that way. Paul said he toiled and struggled for this very reason—discipleship. But he didn't do it in his own strength. He did it with the energy God powerfully worked in him. That's what makes this holy striving different from striving in our flesh. It's not about proving ourselves. It's about obedience fueled by God's Spirit, working in us to build up the body of Christ in love. Discipleship is work, yes. But most importantly - discipleship is love in action. It's the Church maturing together under the headship of Christ. And in every struggle to love, to teach, to grow, and to receive, we're participating in the mystery: Christ in us, the hope of glory.

Christmas is a season often filled with anticipation—children waiting to open presents, families planning gatherings, and many of us quietly hoping for something special to receive. Yet, in the midst of all the wrapping paper, ribbons, and lists, it is worth pausing to remember the gift that outshines them all: Jesus Christ. The apostle Paul writes, “Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15). Unlike earthly gifts that fade or break, this gift is eternal. God sent His Son, not wrapped in festive paper, but in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger. He came in humility, entering our broken world to bring us salvation, peace, and everlasting hope. When we reflect on this, our hearts are drawn away from “What can I get?” toward “How can I give thanks?” Gratitude is the most fitting response to the One who gave us everything—life, forgiveness, and eternity with Him. This Christmas, may we slow down, set aside the noise of consumerism, and lift our eyes in worship. As we gather with loved ones, let us not forget to bow in humility before the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17), remembering that the greatest treasure is not under the tree but found in the Savior who hung on the tree. Lord, help us to remember this season that You gave us the greatest gift of Your Son, Jesus. Please fill our hearts with gratitude and joy as we celebrate the day Jesus Christ was born into our world to save us. Amen. Merry Christmas!

Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known (Colossians 1:24-25) Paul echoes his exhortation from 1 Thessalonians 5:16 to “rejoice always,” and here in Colossians, he lives that out by rejoicing in his sufferings—not for the pain itself, but because of who it's for: the body of Christ. Paul endured severe afflictions, and yet time and time again, the Lord allowed him to see how those trials advanced the gospel (Philippians 1:12–14; 3:8–9). That eternal perspective allowed him to rejoice in hardship and remain content, anchored by the truth that he could endure all things through Christ who strengthened him (Philippians 4:11–13). The phrase “filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions” can be easily misunderstood. Paul wasn't suggesting there was anything insufficient about Christ's atoning sacrifice. Rather, he understood that because believers are united with Christ, any suffering endured for His name becomes part of Christ's ongoing afflictions through His body, the Church. So Paul, writing from a Roman prison, saw his personal suffering as a continuation of what it means to follow Christ faithfully. This wasn't just endurance—it was stewardship. Paul saw his trials as part of his commission to make the word of God fully known. And if we too are to be faithful stewards of the gospel, we must recognize that suffering isn't an obstacle—but it is often part of our mission. But with our eyes fixed on Christ, counting all else as loss, we will find strength to rejoice even in hardship, knowing it serves a greater purpose for His kingdom.

And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister. (Colossians 1:21-23) We were once alienated—hostile in mind and doing evil deeds. This isn't just a theological label—it's a mirror to our natural state. Sin doesn't just separate us from God because He's holy; it separates us because we want the distance. We hide, justify, numb, and self-soothe, trying to feel “good enough.” But feeling better in ourselves doesn't save us. We could never reconcile ourselves to God. He had to be the one to initiate, to act, to reconcile us to Himself. But God's goal wasn't just to buy us a ticket to heaven. His aim is far more personal and transformational: to present us holy, blameless, and above reproach before Him. That's a process of sanctification—not just a moment of salvation. And it hinges on faith, not just once believed, but continually lived out. “If indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel…” This is an abiding obedience—not striving to earn, but trusting to receive. We can't hinder His desire for us and expect to see His fullness in us. But when we walk in that faith, allowing Him to shape and sanctify us, we align with His desire to make us holy in His sight. Paul's words here reflect his role as a minister of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:20)—not just introducing people to the gospel, but urging us to continue in it. Reconciliation isn't just the beginning of salvation—it's the very substance of it. So we continue, stable and steadfast, not surprised by trials (1 Peter 4:12–13), but rooted in hope.

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:16-20) “For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things… making peace by the blood of His cross.” Sin separated us so deeply from God that reconciliation wasn't just unlikely—it was impossible on our end. We wouldn't have tried. We couldn't have succeeded. But God, rich in mercy and moved by love, didn't wait for us to come to Him. He came to us. The fullness of God dwelled in Jesus—God in the flesh, our Creator stepping into creation. The image, in which we were made, took on our form to redeem and reconcile us to Himself. His blood fully atoned for our sin and made peace with God on our behalf. All that's left is for us to receive the gift. But that reconciliation doesn't stop at the vertical. It extends horizontally—to one another. If no sin was too big to keep us from God's love, then no offense should be too great to keep us from forgiving each other. Christ not only reconciles us to Himself, He empowers us to become ministers of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:18–21). As far as it depends on us, we are called to live at peace with everyone (Rom. 12:18), forgiving as we have been forgiven (Matt. 6:12). In Christ, nothing is beyond reconciliation. Nothing.

By this we may know that we are in him: whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked. (1 John 2:5b-6) That begged the question – what are the practical things, those measurable goals, of walking like Jesus did? And I sought to summarize it as a help in wrapping my mind around it practically. In light of this week being Thanksgiving, I thought we'd take a little detour this week to dig into this (including the fact that Jesus was a grateful person). Here's what I gathered: Jesus walked in perfect obedience to the Father, doing nothing of His own will but only what He saw the Father doing (John 5:19) Jesus humbled Himself, taking the form of a servant (Philippians 2:5–8) Jesus was moved with compassion toward the broken, healing the sick, feeding the hungry (Mark 6:34) Jesus forgave those who sinned against Him (Luke 23:34) Jesus spoke truth with grace (John 1:14) Jesus loved without partiality (James 2:1; John 13:34; John 8:1-11) Jesus sought the lost so they might be saved (Luke 19:10) Jesus gave thanks to the Father in all things and showed gratitude that flowed from trust and intimate fellowship (John 11:41; John 6:11; Luke 22:19) Jesus withdrew often to pray (Luke 5:16) Jesus trusted the Father in suffering (1 Peter 2:23) Jesus laid down His life in love (John 15:13; Luke 23:46) In Summary Jesus lived in perfect fellowship with the Father, doing nothing apart from Him and moving in harmony with His will. His steps were marked by humility and compassion — He touched the broken, lifted the weary, and forgave those who wronged Him. Wherever He went, He carried the Father's heart: healing, feeding, teaching, and restoring. His words were full of grace and truth, never seeking His own glory, but revealing the Father's. In every moment, He gave thanks — before the bread was multiplied, before the cup was shared, even before the miracle was seen. Gratitude was His breath, flowing from perfect trust in the Father's goodness. He withdrew often to pray, choosing stillness with God over the noise of the crowd, and when suffering came, He entrusted Himself completely into the Father's hands. He walked in love that laid itself down, light that never dimmed, obedience that never wavered. To walk as Jesus walked is to live from that same place of abiding — to love as He loved, serve as He served, give thanks in all things, and being obedient to the Father's will, trusting Him with a heart at rest. Today, let's be thankful (and express gratitude) that we have the ability by the empowering of the Holy Spirit to walk like Jesus walked. And then let's be disciplined to work with the Holy Spirit to actually walk in that manner. Happy Thanksgiving!

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:16-20) “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Science tells us that on a subatomic level, the world shouldn't hold together. Positively charged protons in an atom's nucleus should repel each other with such force that everything should fly apart. Gravity, the great anchor of the universe, does not keep atoms stable. And yet—everything remains intact. Scientists still can't fully explain why. Some have even referred to it as an “invisible glue.” Scripture tells us that glue has a name: Jesus. He holds all things together—from the particles we can't see to the people in His Church. Just as the brain directs and sustains the physical body, Christ—our Head—sustains and directs His body, the Church. Without Him, we fall apart. Without Him, we don't function. On our own, we naturally repel—like the protons in an atom, like sinners pulled by pride and self. But in Christ, we are held. He brings order where there should be chaos. Unity where there should be division. Stability where everything should fall apart. And He does this not only in creation, but in us—personally and collectively. So if you feel like things are unraveling, return to the One who holds all things together. Including you!

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:16-20) “all things were created through him and for him.” We were not randomly formed. We were not the result of accidental chaos or evolutionary coincidence. We were spoken into existence—through Jesus. And not only created through Him—but for Him. That changes everything. It's easy to lose sight of that in a world that tells us we're our own, that our lives are ours to define and direct. But the idea that we can find true purpose apart from God is a lie from hell. Pride resists the thought of being subject to something higher, especially Someone holy. But the biblical view isn't one of rigid subjection—it's of joy-filled belonging and purpose. Our loving Creator didn't make us to drift through life aimlessly, but to walk in relationship with Him, fulfilling the purpose we were made for. That truth brings freedom. We were created for Him—to know Him, glorify Him, love Him, and live in reverent accountability to Him. When we deviate from that, when we live for ourselves, we stir chaos and conflict within. Why? Because deep down, we know the truth. We were made for more. We were made for Him. Let the knowledge of that purpose realign your heart today.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. (Colossians 1:15-16) “He is the image of the invisible God.” He—Jesus. These verses leave no ambiguity: Jesus is not just from God, He is God. He is the Creator, not the created (Genesis 1:1-3; John 1:1-4, John 1:14; Hebrews 1:1-3). Every corner of creation—things visible and invisible, heaven and earth—was made through Him and for Him. Some still scoff at the idea that Jesus is God, claiming the Bible never says it. But even the Pharisees knew what Jesus was claiming (John 8:56-59; John 10:24-33). They picked up stones because He made Himself equal with God. Denial doesn't change truth. I could deny gravity exists, but that wouldn't stop it from holding me to the earth. Likewise, Jesus' divinity stands, whether acknowledged or not. We were made in His image (Gen. 1:27), and not only through Him but for Him. And yet how often we mar that image with sin, chasing identity in anything but Him. But here's the beauty: Jesus, the very image of God, took on flesh and allowed Himself to be marred for our sin. Now, by His Spirit, we are being transformed—one degree of glory at a time (2 Corinthians 3:17-18). We were created for a purpose. Let's live like it. Not marring His image, but maturing into it.

He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (Colossians 1:13-14) These two verses are packed with powerful, foundational truths—and every word is worth sitting with. He—the Father—delivered us. The word implies more than just rescue; it means He drew us to Himself, pulling us from the grip of darkness where we were once under the influence of sin and domain of satan. That domain had strength, power, and bondage. But God didn't stop at rescue. He also transferred us—from one place to another. Our position changed. We were moved from darkness into the kingdom of the Son He loves—a kingdom defined by love (agape), because God is love. In that kingdom, we aren't just rescued—we're redeemed. Jesus paid the ransom, releasing us from the penalty and bondage of our sins. And not only are we redeemed—we're also forgiven. That word in the original language means “released,” “pardoned,” as if the sins were never committed. That's how completely God has dealt with our past. By the will of the Father, the obedience of the Son, and the indwelling of the Spirit, we have been delivered, transferred, redeemed, and forgiven. So live in that freedom. Live in love. Let your mindset and position reflect the kingdom you now belong to—where Christ is King, and grace abounds.

being strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy; giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. (Colossians 1:11-12) The strength we receive isn't random—it's purposeful. Paul says we are strengthened with all power according to His glorious might—not our own—for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father. That kind of strength doesn't come from sheer willpower. It comes from the Spirit of God (Zechariah 4:6). But why do we need strength for endurance and patience? Because spiritual maturity is forged in the fire. Trials test the genuineness of our faith, and as James tells us, we're to count it all joy when we face them. Why? Because we know what it's producing and the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10). When we zoom out and look at the bigger picture, we begin to see that what we're enduring is producing something far more valuable: maturity, perseverance, faith. And then comes the gratitude. Because all of this—the strength, the growth, the hope—is ours only because the Father has qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light (John 12:46). Jesus came as light so we could walk in it. We ought to be thankful for this remarkable truth in our lives. So even in trial, we rejoice. We give thanks. We endure with joy, because we've been strengthened by His power and qualified by His grace. That's reason enough to lift our heads and keep going.

And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him: bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God (Colossians 1:9-10) Paul didn't just thank God for the Colossian believers—he prayed for their growth. After hearing from Epaphras about their love in the Spirit, Paul's response wasn't to simply celebrate what was already there. He prayed that they would grow even deeper—into spiritual wisdom, understanding, and a life that fully pleased the Lord. Do you pray like that for other Christians? If we're honest, it's often easier to critique or complain about fellow believers than to intercede for their maturity. But what does complaining profit anyone? Nothing. James 5:16 reminds us that the fervent prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective. Imagine how the Church would flourish if our first instinct wasn't criticism but was instead prayer—asking God to mature each other in wisdom, fruitfulness, and knowledge of Him. If that kind of prayer doesn't stir us, maybe it's time for a heart check. Pride and self-focus can dull our love for others. But when we genuinely want others to grow in Christ, we reflect the very heart of Jesus—who never stops interceding for us. So today, who can you pray for? Ask God to deepen their walk. And as you do, you might just find your own heart growing, too.

Of this you have heard before in the word of the truth, the gospel, which has come to you, as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and increasing—as it also does among you, since the day you heard it and understood the grace of God in truth (Colossians 1:5b-6) The gospel came to me—but it didn't stop there. I heard it. I understood the grace of God in truth. But again—it didn't stop there. Paul writes that the gospel is bearing fruit and growing, not just in the world, but also in us. That's personal. That's ongoing. If we stop growing in the gospel, how can we bear fruit? James reminds us that faith without works is dead. So if our life is void of fruit, we have to ask ourselves: Did I really hear and understand the gospel in truth? Or did I only grasp it in theory, through a lens of pretense or partial understanding? The way we hear and understand the gospel matters. It's the foundation we build everything on. And sadly, it's possible for someone to call themselves a Christian for years and yet still have misunderstood the grace of God—mistaking culture for truth or emotion for faith. But the beauty of grace is this: correction is possible. Transformation is still possible. If we seek truth—if we truly seek Him—we will find Him. God promises that (Jeremiah 29:13). So pause and ask: Have I heard and understood the gospel in truth? Is it growing in me? Am I bearing fruit? And then, in grace and humility, press in deeper. Because real truth produces real growth.

We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, since we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints (Colossians 1:3-4) Two small words—always and when—carry a powerful message in these verses. Paul writes that he always thanks God when he prays for the saints. His prayers weren't limited to requests; they were filled with thanksgiving. He lived what he preached—just as he encouraged the Philippians to pray about everything with thanksgiving (Phil. 4:6), he practiced it faithfully. Gratitude was a regular rhythm of his prayer life. The word “when” points to a habit of prayer, not a random act. Paul was a man of prayer—and not just for his own needs, but for others. That kind of consistent intercession flows from a heart focused on Jesus. When we're aligned with Him, people naturally come to mind because they're already on His heart. Jesus Himself modeled this. In Luke 22:31-32, He prayed for Peter before Peter even failed. And now, as Hebrews 7:25 reminds us, Jesus continually lives to intercede for us. If Jesus does that for us, how much more should we do it for one another? So when you pray for others, don't just ask God to move—thank Him for how He already has. Thank Him always, when you remember them. Let your prayers be marked by intercession and overflowing with gratitude. It shapes your heart and honors the heart of God.

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother, To the saints and faithful brothers in Christ at Colossae: Grace to you and peace from God our Father. (Colossians 1:1-2) As Paul opens his letter to the Colossians, he doesn't just introduce himself by name—he includes his role and, more importantly, the authority behind it: “an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.” That detail might seem small, but imagine how the letter would've landed if he had left it out. The early church often faced criticism and skepticism, and Paul knew the weight that spiritual authority carried—especially for those who might question his position. It's reminiscent of the Pharisees questioning Jesus: “By what authority are you doing these things?” (Matt. 21:23). They couldn't accept the authority of the very Son of God. Paul may have once been among those asking such questions, which makes his acknowledgment of divine authority all the more significant. He wasn't self-appointed. He was sent. And then Paul closes his greeting with a blessing: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father.” This wasn't just pleasantry—it was intentional. Perhaps it softened the way for the hard truths that would follow, giving the recipients space to receive correction through the lens of grace. But maybe it also grounded Paul himself—reminding him to write from a place of peace, not pride. Whether giving or receiving truth, we all need that anchor: grace and peace from God our Father. So today, may we lead in both humility and boldness.

Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” (Luke 24:44-49) As Jesus stood with His disciples in those final moments before ascending to the Father, He did what only He could do – He opened their minds to understand the Scriptures. These were men who had walked closely with Him for three years. They had heard His teachings, seen His miracles, and witnessed His death and resurrection. But they still needed Him to help them truly understand the Scriptures. We are no different. The Bible is not a book to be mastered by intellect alone. The Bible is living and active (Hebrews 4:12), and it must be spiritually discerned (1 Corinthians 2:14). Without the illuminating work of Christ, the Scriptures remain like a sealed book – factual, perhaps even interesting, but void of power in the life of the reader. We must come to Jesus, accept Him as Lord of our life and Savior of our soul, and then He will open our mind to help us see and know and believe what He has written. The Promise of the Father And what's even more amazing is that Jesus didn't stop there. He continued by commissioning them as His witnesses when he told them, “You are witnesses of these things.” And then came the promise that He had spoke of earlier when he told them He wouldn't leave them as orphans: “Behold, I am sending the promise of My Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” That promise was fulfilled on the day of Pentecost in Acts 2, when the Holy Spirit descended with power, filling and equipping the disciples to boldly proclaim the gospel to the nations. And that same Spirit lives in every believer today. We are now the continuation of this mission – the ones entrusted to carry the good news of Christ's death and resurrection to the ends of the earth. But just as the first disciples needed the Holy Spirit's power, so do we. We can't walk in truth, speak with boldness, or love with sincerity apart from the Holy Spirit. He is our Helper, our Comforter, our Teacher – and He clothes us with power from on high so we can be faithful ambassadors of Jesus. It's not about striving in our own strength. **It's about living surrendered, with open minds and willing hearts, walking daily in the Spirit – truly denying ourselves and taking up our cross daily as we follow Jesus. A Final Note After speaking these words, Jesus led them out and ascended into heaven (Luke 24:50–51). Jesus will return one day soon – but until then, we have work to do. Let's be found faithful, busy with our Father's business, with minds opened by Christ and hearts empowered by His Spirit. As we close this journey through the Gospel of Luke, may we hold fast to this calling – to know Him through His Word and in prayer, to walk in the power of His Spirit as we serve with joy and purpose, and to be ready and watching for the return of our King Jesus. P.S. We'll be going through the book of Colossians next!

As they were talking about these things, Jesus himself stood among them, and said to them, “Peace to you!” But they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit. And he said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. And while they still disbelieved for joy and were marveling, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them. (Luke 24:36-43) As Jesus stood among His disciples, “Peace to you” were His first words to them after His resurrection. But instead of rejoicing, His disciples “were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit.” These were the same men who had walked with Him for three years, seen Him feed the multitudes, calm the storms, raise the dead, and teach with unmatched authority. And yet, when the fulfillment of His own words stood before them, alive and resurrected, their hearts were slow to believe. It might be an initial response to have a “tisk tisk” type attitude towards the disciples, but if we're honest with ourselves – isn't that just like us? How often do we know the truth of God's Word, having we seen His provision, heard His promises, and tasted His mercy – yet still hesitate to believe when fear, grief, or doubt enters the scene? Sometimes we become so accustomed to the routine of walking with Jesus that we can lose the wonder of what He's really said, what He's truly done, and what He's still doing. But look at how Jesus responds. “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself.” Here's the amazing part – Jesus didn't shame them. He didn't turn away. He didn't demand perfect faith. Instead, He invited them closer - “Touch me and see.” He offered His wounded hands and feet – the very marks of His love and sacrifice – as proof; not because He had to, but because He is gracious and kind. Jesus met them right in the middle of their disbelief. And then, to further ease their troubled hearts, He asked for food and ate in their presence. Not because He was hungry, but to show them He was real, tangible, alive – risen. What a Savior. So patient with our fragile faith and so willing to meet us in our weakness. We are all susceptible to disbelief – no matter how long we've walked with Jesus. The key is not pretending that we never doubt, but trusting that He remains faithful, even when we falter. As Paul reminds us in 2 Timothy 2:13, “If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.” So today, let's choose childlike faith – the kind that trusts even when we don't fully understand, the kind that believes because He said it, not because we've seen it. And when God, in His kindness, does give us signs of His presence and faithfulness, may we respond with a deep gratitude and humble worship, not demanding more proof, but offering more praise.

So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He acted as if he were going farther, but they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem. And they found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread. (Luke 24:28-35) As the disciples walked the dusty road to Emmaus, though the risen Jesus had drawn near and walked with them, their hearts were heavy and confused because they hadn't yet recognized Him. And Jesus had explained the Scriptures, revealing how the Messiah must suffer and enter His glory, but even with such truth laid bare, their eyes remained closed. It wasn't until the moment of shared intimacy – when He broke the bread – that their eyes were opened and they knew Him. This was just an ordinary meal but for them it echoed back to the Last Supper, where He had taken bread, blessed it, broken it, and given it to His disciples, saying, “This is my body, given for you.” (Luke 22:19) That moment of intimate fellowship carried divine significance. And now, post-resurrection, it was in that same kind of moment that their eyes were opened. And how beautiful that it was in that quiet, simple act of breaking bread, that Jesus revealed Himself. Sometimes we search for God in the grand and the spectacular, yet He so often meets us in the ordinary – at a table, in a quiet prayer, during the simple obedience of daily faithfulness. The breaking of the bread was not just a meal; it was a reminder of covenant love, of sacrifice, of communion. And it was in that space that the disciples weren't just told who Jesus was – they recognized Him. Their response is striking. Gone were the long-winded debates and analytical discussions. Gone was the slow-hearted unbelief. Instead, they rose that very hour and returned to Jerusalem. Though it was night and the journey was long, they could not contain the truth. Now because of this personal experience, like the women – they were compelled to testify of it. What a beautiful picture of how revelation leads to action. Their eyes were opened, and their hearts, once burning with mystery, now burned with urgency and joy. The facts they had been discussing were now saturated with faith, and that faith propelled them into bold proclamation. For us today, the invitation remains the same: draw near to Jesus not only through intellectual understanding, but through intimacy – through remembering Him in communion, in prayer, in fellowship, in studying God's Word. He is still revealing Himself to those whose hearts are open. Let us also rise and go to the places God sends us, joyously proclaiming that the Lord is risen and sharing about our personal experiences with the living God.

While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” And he said to them, “What things?” And they said to him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened. Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, and when they did not find his body, they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.” And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself. (Luke 24:15-27) Some followers of Jesus walked the road to Emmaus, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Their words were filled with facts: Jesus' ministry, His crucifixion, the empty tomb, and even the strange report from the women who claimed He was alive. They had all the information—but still, they were discouraged, confused, and slow to believe. As they talked and reasoned together, Jesus Himself came near but they didn't recognize Him. And as He asked them what they were discussing, they poured out their disappointment, their bewilderment, and their hopes dashed. The hard truth is, they knew the Scriptures, they had heard Jesus' own words, and yet, their faith hadn't yet connected with what they knew. How often are we just like them? We gather facts, quote verses, and try to make sense of God's ways through discussion and analysis. But there's a danger in circling through facts without bringing faith into it. Understanding can be helpful—but it's not a substitute for believing. The resurrection is one of the most powerful moments in all of history, and yet it’s also one of the greatest mysteries. How did it happen? What exactly took place in those unseen hours between death and life? We may never fully understand it, and we don't have to, because our faith isn't grounded in our ability to comprehend – our faith is grounded in the truth that it did happen, and in the One who made it so. Jesus gently rebuked the disciples, saying, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” The problem wasn't a lack of evidence – it was a lack of faith. They had been waiting for everything to make sense, when what they really needed was to trust the Word of God. Beyond Our Capacity In our modern world, we often feel pressure to understand every detail – especially when it comes to matters of faith. But some things God has done, and still does, goes beyond our capacity to fully explain and understand. Miracles don't always follow human logic, grace doesn't fit into equations, and the resurrection – while historically attested and spiritually powerful – is still a divine mystery that we accept by faith. As Paul wrote in Romans 6:5, “For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.” We may not understand how resurrection works, but we believe that because Jesus was raised, we too will be raised because God has promised it. Let's not be content to walk in circles around the facts. Let's resolve to move toward deeper faith, believing what God has said even when we don't fully understand how He'll bring it about. His peace surpasses understanding, so let's press in by faith and have our hearts and minds guarded by the peace of God.

Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles, but these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter rose and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home marveling at what had happened. (Luke 24:10-12) That morning the tomb was empty, the stone had been rolled away, angels had appeared, and Jesus was alive – just as He said. That was the message the women returned with to tell the apostles. But rather than spark instant joy or celebration, their message was met with skepticism. “These words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.” In a time and culture where the testimony of women was often dismissed, the reaction was, sadly, predictable. But what's remarkable is that despite the culture, the women shared anyway. They didn't let their cultural position, gender, or the fear of being disbelieved stop them from speaking the truth. They had seen and heard something life-changing, and it compelled them to share. That's the essence of a testimony: it isn't about convincing others—it's about faithfully declaring what God has done. The responsibility of belief lies with the hearer. And in this passage, we see two distinct responses. Most of the apostles dismissed the women's words. But Peter – impulsive, passionate, imperfect Peter – ran. He didn't argue, he didn't wait – he ran to see for himself. And though he didn't yet fully understand, Scripture says he “went home marveling.” Who We Tell The same is true today. When we share what God has done in our lives – how He has rescued, healed, redeemed, or transformed us – some will dismiss it. They'll label it wishful thinking, coincidence, or even delusion. But others will hear, and something in them will stir. They may not believe fully in that moment, but they'll be drawn to investigate and search for truth; and the Spirit of God will work through that curiosity. So, keep sharing. Don't be silenced by the fear of rejection. Don't let someone else's potential unbelief prevent you from proclaiming your testimony of truth and hope. You're not responsible for converting people, but you have been called to faithfully share the gospel. Some will hear and believe, and others will hear and reject – but the response of others shouldn't shape our faithfulness to the call of God. My friend has a tattoo of a quote that is a great reminder; it says, “Your story could be the key that unlocks someone else's prison.” Your story, like the women at the tomb, can be used by God in the lives of others – but that requires actually sharing those testimonies of how God has worked in your life. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 1:27-29, “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise… so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.” God delights in using unexpected messengers to proclaim His power. And yes, sometimes it is a humbling experience every time you share certain testimonies, especially if God corrected you in something – but it not only has the opportunity for God to use that in someone else's life, but it further cements the lesson God taught you in the first place. Your testimony matters. Even if it's dismissed as “an idle tale,” speak it anyway. Someone like Peter may be listening and end up running toward Jesus because of what you share.

He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise.” And they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. (Luke 24:6-9) When the women went to the tomb that morning, they came with spices to anoint a body they thought was still lifeless. But instead of finding death, they encountered two angels declaring the most glorious news the world has ever heard: “He is not here, but has risen!” Yet even in that incredible moment, the angelic messengers didn't introduce a new idea. They simply reminded the women of what Jesus had already said. “Remember how He told you…” Jesus had not been secretive about His mission. Over and over again, He told His disciples that He would suffer, die, and rise again. But grief, fear, and confusion had clouded their memories. It took divine prompting to reignite what had been tucked away in their memory. And once they remembered, they moved into action. The women left the tomb not with spices in hand, but with the truth on their lips, ready to tell the others. Luke tells us, “they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest.” The message that Jesus was alive was too powerful, too essential, too life-altering to keep to themselves. Remembering His words, led to witnessing. Called to Action We are often like these women. We know the truth – Jesus is risen, His Word is true, His promises are sure; yet in the chaos and sorrow of life, sometimes we forget. We become overwhelmed by circumstances or discouraged by delay, and we lose sight of what He's already told us. But when we return to the Word and remember what He has said, our hearts and minds are renewed; and that renewal compels us to speak. This is the heartbeat of the Gospel: Jesus died, was buried, and rose again – just as He said. And we are not called to come up with something new or flashy. We are called to remember His words and tell them to others. Paul reminds us in Romans 10:17, “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” As we meditate on what Jesus has said, our faith grows. And as we share it, the gospel spreads. Don't underestimate the power of remembrance. And don't withhold the joy of the resurrection from those who need to hear. Like the women at the tomb, may we be people who remember what Jesus has said and carry that message boldly into the lives of others. May what we do and speak truly be a testimony of God's redeeming love.

The women who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment. (Luke 23:55-56) Grief has a way of driving us toward action. We want to do something to process the pain, to care for what's been lost, or sometimes to cling to a sense of control. The women who followed Jesus from Galilee were no different. They had just watched their beloved Teacher suffer and die, and their hearts longed to anoint His body – an act of both reverence and affection. But with the Sabbath approaching, they faced a choice: proceed with their desire to tend to Jesus' body or honor the Sabbath as God commanded. They chose obedience. They rested – even in the sorrow, even in the tension of not finishing what their hearts desperately wanted to do. They honored the Lord not by rushing to the tomb, but by keeping His command. Their obedience, even in pain, was an act of worship. This isn't really even an issue about whether the act of anointing would technically break the Sabbath. Scripture tells us in Titus 1:15, “To the pure, all things are pure,” and Jesus often challenged the legalistic boundaries of Sabbath traditions that had been added to God's intent with the command. But for these women who had been taught, lived by, and loved God's law, their conscience of obedience was to rest. As James 4:17 reminds us, “So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.” Their surrender wasn't just about Sabbath observance. It was about trusting God's timing and will above their own thoughts, emotions, and desires. They denied themselves and waited – not knowing that their act of obedience would position them to be the first to witness the resurrection. Our own griefs, unmet expectations, or sense of urgency can tempt us to take matters into our own hands. When plans fall apart or life wounds us deeply, the natural instinct is to act, to fix, to move. But sometimes, the holiest thing we can do is rest in obedience – even when it costs us something. Jesus said in Luke 9:23, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” These women didn't just deny themselves the comfort of caring for Jesus' body on their own terms; they chose to follow God's Word even in confusion and heartache. Their faith reminds us that obedience is not about comfort – it's about trust. May we learn from their example to prioritize God's voice over our impulses, to obey even when emotions scream otherwise, and to rest in the truth that worship is found in surrender.

Now there was a man named Joseph, from the Jewish town of Arimathea. He was a member of the council, a good and righteous man, who had not consented to their decision and action; and he was looking for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning. (Luke 23:50-54) In the aftermath of an unjust crucifixion, we are introduced to a man of quiet courage – Joseph of Arimathea. As a member of the Jewish council, Joseph was wealthy, respected, and held a prestigious position. Yet when the Sanhedrin demanded Jesus' death, Joseph “had not consented to their decision and action.” While others went along with the crowd, Joseph stood apart. While Pilate gave in to pressure, Joseph held to conviction. And while others sought to protect their status, Joseph looked for the kingdom of God. This is no small thing. In touching the dead body of Jesus to prepare it for burial, Joseph defiled himself according to ceremonial law, forfeiting his ability to participate in the Sabbath preparations. He willingly traded religious cleanliness and social standing to honor his crucified Lord. This kind of faith is costly. It is the kind of devotion that refuses to blend in with the culture for the sake of comfort or appearance. Joseph risked his reputation, his religious privilege, and likely his relationships within the council, all to identify with Jesus in His death. This calls us to question how we pursue Jesus. Ask yourself this question – do I pursue Jesus with such fervor and resolution? Counted As Loss In Philippians 3:7–8, Paul echoes this kind of faith: “But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” Joseph of Arimathea, like Paul, shows us what it means to live with eternity in view. He wasn't driven by fear or popularity, he was driven by a longing for God's kingdom. He wasn't trying to preserve his life, but to honor the One who had just laid His down. Today, the pressure to conform to worldly values is just as real. Many remain silent rather than speak the truth of Christ. Some fear being labeled as intolerant, fanatical, or foolish. But true discipleship means dying to the approval of man in order to live fully for God. Let's ask ourselves these questions: Am I willing to be labeled badly by culture to honor Jesus? Do I forsake earthly titles and inclusion to stand with Christ? Am I looking for the kingdom of God, even if it costs me my status, comfort, or security? Joseph may have buried Jesus in a tomb, but his actions proclaimed a living faith. In a moment of greatest loss, he revealed the greatest gain – a heart set on God's kingdom. May we all have the courage of Jospeh of Arimathea – standing firm when others cave, seeking the kingdom of God above all else, and counting all as loss to unashamedly identify with Christ.

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. (Luke 23:44-46) As Jesus took His final breath, a miraculous and deeply symbolic event took place: the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Matthew and Mark tell us that this curtain was torn from top to bottom. This was an unmistakable detail showing it was God who tore it, not man. This wasn't just a tear in fabric, it was a tearing open of what had long been closed off. The temple curtain had separated the Holy of Holies (the very dwelling place of God) from everyone else. Only the high priest, once a year, and only with a blood sacrifice, could enter beyond that curtain. It was a vivid reminder that sin separates humanity from God. But now, through Jesus, that separation was finished. The final, perfect sacrifice had been made, the atonement was complete, and redemption was achieved. Jesus had fully taken on the wrath of God, satisfied the justice of God, and opened the way for sinners to come into the presence of God. The torn curtain was the visible sign of what had spiritually been accomplished on the cross. Hebrews 10:19–20 made that very clear, “We have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, His body.” Walking in Freedom And yet, even today, even among professing Christians – it can be hard to live as though it is truly finished. Legalism creeps in. Pride tries to earn what grace has already given. We feel like we must contribute something to our salvation or prove ourselves worthy of it. But that's not the gospel. Salvation is not Jesus plus our efforts – it's Christ alone. The more we rest in His finished work, the more we walk in the freedom He died to give us. We are not called to work for our salvation but to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, because it has already been secured – we are now encouraged to take our faith seriously and be diligent in our pursuit of close relationship with God. Just as Jesus said, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit,” we too are called to commit ourselves fully to God, and not only our lives, but also our trust in His completed work. Romans 12:1 calls us to be living sacrifices, not striving for salvation, but surrendered in response to it. In a world striving to prove itself, may we be people who rest in completed work and remember the torn curtain – living in confidence that we are secure in Christ. Because truly – it is finished…in Christ alone.

One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:39-43) Two criminals hung beside Jesus that day on calvary. Both were guilty, both were dying, and both had a front-row seat to the suffering and strength of the Son of God. One mocked Him, joining the crowd in scorn. But the other – broken, repentant, and fully aware of his guilt – responded with humility and faith. This second criminal didn’t defend himself. He didn’t ask to be spared from death. He didn't attempt to bargain with God. He simply acknowledged and confessed the truth: “We are receiving the due reward for our deeds.” And then, turning to Jesus, he made a request that humbly echo through this crucifixion account forever: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Remember Me That word remember carries deep meaning. It's more than just recalling a name or face. In Scripture, to “remember” implies acting with intentionality. When God says in Isaiah that He will remember our sins no more, it means He chooses not to act on them (Isaiah 43:25). And here, the criminal wasn't just asking Jesus to think of him – he was asking for mercy. For a place in Jesus' coming kingdom. For grace. For redemption. And Jesus, bleeding and dying, answered with the most astonishing assurance: “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Here's the thing - this criminal would still die that day. His body would suffer the consequence of his sin according to human justice. But his soul was redeemed in an instant. No religious rituals, no time for good works; just a heart of faith and a cry for mercy. And Jesus paid it all. The Poor in Spirit As Jesus said in His sermon on the mount, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). This dying criminal was the very picture of spiritual poverty. He had nothing to offer, no way to make up for his crimes – and he knew it. And yet, to him the kingdom of heaven was given. Commentator D.A. Carson puts it this way: “The kingdom of heaven is not given on the basis of race, earned merits, the military zeal and prowess of Zealots, or the wealth of a Zacchaeus. It is given to the poor, the despised publicans, the prostitutes, those who are so ‘poor' they know they can offer nothing and do not try. They cry for mercy and they alone are heard.” And Charles Spurgeon wrote, “The poor in spirit are lifted from the dunghill, and set, not among hired servants in the field, but among princes in the kingdom.” This moment on the cross shatters every performance-based idea of salvation. You don't have to clean yourself up to come to Jesus. You just have to come - in humility, in faith, asking to be remembered. And He will answer with the full assurance of paradise. Rest for Your Soul This truth goes beyond our ultimate salvation - You don't have to clean yourself up to come to Jesus - you just have to come. How often do we claim our salvation and identity in Christ to not come to Jesus when we're weak and weary. Yet of His disciples, Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:28-29) When was the last time you found rest for your soul, my friend? We don't need to have it all together – just because we're in Christ doesn't mean we will have it all together. It only causes strife if we deceive ourselves and others into thinking we do. It's ok to be broken – but don't stay there and wallow in it. Humbly come to Jesus seeking His mercy and grace in faith, and simply receive it and find rest for your soul.

And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” (Luke 23:35-39) As Jesus hung on the cross, bloody and beaten, the voices of the crowd around Him yelled the challenge: “If you are the Christ… save yourself.” The crowds, the rulers, the soldiers – even the criminal crucified beside Him – taunted and tempted Him to prove His identity through performance. They questioned His power and mocked His silence. Here's the thing - Jesus had heard those same temptations before. In the wilderness, Satan confronted Jesus after forty days of fasting with words just as biting: “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread.” “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here.” (Luke 4) The enemy attacked Jesus' identity and tried to bait Him into proving who He was by showcasing His power. But Jesus didn't take the bait. Instead, He stood on the Word, repeating again and again: “It is written…” He resisted the devil and the devil fled from Him. Now, years later, as He was nailed to the cross, the temptations returned – but this time in human voices. Still, Jesus didn't flinch, He set His face like a flint (Isaiah 50:7). Jesus didn't need to defend Himself or prove anything because He knew who He was. His silence wasn't weakness; it was strength. He could have called legions of angels. He could have come down from the cross. But He stayed there because His mission wasn't to prove Himself, it was to save us. Your Own Identity We, too, will face moments when our identity is questioned – when people, or even our own thoughts, whisper, “If you really are loved by God, then why are you suffering?” or “If you're truly an upright child of God, why don't you defend yourself?” These temptations are subtle, but dangerous. They push us to perform, to seek validation from people, and to defend ourselves instead of trusting God – to be our defender and in His sovereign plan. But my friend, if you are in Christ, your identity is secure. You are a child of God, fully known and fully loved. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Scripture says, “You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You” (Isaiah 26:3), and “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). When temptation to prove ourselves comes, to effectively resist the devil, we only need to stand firm on God's Word, trusting that it's true, and that God is a God of His word and will strengthen you to overcome. Just as Jesus did – the Word of God is still the weapon that silences every single lie. Don't let the world's taunts or satan's whispers shake you, just let them roll off like water on a duck's back. Resist the urge to react or defend yourself in the flesh – it will only lead to sin. Instead, stand firm, trust the Father, and keep your eyes fixed on Jesus, your Messiah. The One who didn't save Himself so He could save you will give you the strength to overcome every temptation.

Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And they cast lots to divide his garments. (Luke 23:32-34) As Jesus hung between two criminals, blood already beginning to flow from the scourging, thorns piercing His brow, the weight of the wooden cross pressing against torn flesh – His first recorded words were not a cry of pain or a plea for justice. They were a prayer: “Father, forgive them.” Even before the hours of agony ahead – before the mocking, the suffocation, and the slow crawl toward death – His heart was already full of forgiveness. This was no spontaneous act of mercy. Jesus' forgiveness was a resolve carried into the cross, not formed upon it. He had already decided to love, to forgive, to endure. He wasn't overcome by grace in the moment; He embodied grace. This is the Lamb who was “slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). Long before nails pierced His hands, long before humanity fell in the garden, long before the first breath of man – He knew. He knew we would betray, deny, and crucify Him. He knew the cross would be necessary. And still, He created us. What kind of love He is! That a holy God would form us from dust, breathe life into us, knowing full well that we would rebel, and that redeeming us would cost Him everything. Jesus' Spoken Words Yet on the cross, He said it aloud: “Father, forgive them.” Not because the Father needed convincing, but because we did. In His spoken words, He removed all doubt. The forgiveness He carried in His heart from eternity past was now echoing through time and space for all to hear. And those words weren't just for the Roman soldiers or the angry crowd - they were for you. They were for me. They were for anyone who's ever felt the crushing weight of guilt or the ache of shame. He not only bore our sins, He then declared us forgiven in the very act of bearing them. Jesus didn't wait for repentance before offering forgiveness. He didn't demand we understand the depth of our offense first. No, “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The cross was not merely the result of our sin – it was the remedy for it. His forgiveness wasn’t reactive, it was proactive. It was eternal and unshakable. So, when you wonder if you're too far gone, too broken, or too late – let go of that lie and look to the cross. Hear His words. Remember: He forgave you before you ever knew you needed it. Thank Him for that forgiveness and if necessary, ask for help to receive it freely. I pray that we may always walk in the forgiveness and freedom that Christ died to freely give us.