“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil… Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside.” -Luke 4:1-2, 14

When we think of deserts, we often picture dry, barren, and difficult places. Spiritually, many of us know what it feels like to be in a desert season—times of testing, silence, loneliness, or struggle. What’s remarkable in Luke’s Gospel is that Jesus didn’t stumble into the desert by accident. He was led there by the Spirit. That means the desert was part of God’s plan, not a detour from it. And when Jesus came out of the desert, He was empowered and ready to step into His ministry.

The same is true for us. Desert seasons may feel uncomfortable and overwhelming, but they are often where God does His deepest work. In the desert, our faith is tested, our character is refined, and our dependence on God is strengthened. James 1:2-4 reminds us to “consider it pure joy… whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” The desert seasons don’t have to be wasted—they can be a place of preparation.

Look at Joseph, who spent years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Those hidden years in the dungeon weren’t wasted—they were the very place God was shaping his character and preparing him to one day save a nation during famine. Or think of David, anointed as king but forced to spend years on the run from Saul. Living in caves and fleeing for his life must have felt like a desert season, yet it was there that God taught him to depend on Him fully and to lead with humility. Both Joseph and David came out of their deserts: not defeated, but prepared for the incredible purposes God had for their lives. 

So if you find yourself in a desert season today, don’t lose heart. God has not abandoned you—He is preparing you. The dry ground you walk on may very well be the training ground for the next step of your calling. You may enter the desert feeling weak but, like Jesus and by the power of the Spirit, you can come out stronger, bolder, and ready for what God has ahead.

We all have a past. Every one of us carries failures, regrets, and mistakes we wish we could erase or redo. But the reality is—we can’t go back. We can only go forward. Too often I meet people who are stuck because they can’t get over their failures. They live in a cycle of guilt, shame, and regret, never realizing that God wants to do something new in their lives.

Romans 8:28 reminds us of this powerful truth: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Notice it says all things. That includes the bad choices, the broken seasons, and even the sins we’ve repented of. God is so great that He can weave even our worst failures into a story of redemption and purpose.

Phillips Brooks, a seventeenth-century preacher, once said: “You must let God teach you the only way to get rid of your past is to make a future of it. God will waste nothing.” That’s the heart of Romans 8:28—nothing is wasted in the hands of God.

Think of Peter. He denied Jesus three times at His most desperate hour. By all accounts, his failure could have disqualified him. Yet after the resurrection, Jesus restored him and used him to preach at Pentecost, where thousands came to faith. Or consider Paul, who persecuted the church and consented to the death of Christians. God didn’t erase Paul’s past: He redeemed it. Paul’s testimony became part of the very message he preached.

The enemy wants us to dwell on our past because he knows it will keep us from stepping into our future. But God’s Word tells us something different. Isaiah 43:18-19 says: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” Dwelling on our past will only hold us back, but surrendering it to God allows Him to make something beautiful from the broken pieces.

Maybe today we feel weighed down by our past. Hear this truth: God doesn’t define us by our failures, He defines us by His grace. We can’t change the past, but we can choose to trust God with our future. As we do, we’ll discover that He really does work all things together for good.

And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ (which means ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’)” -Mark 15:34

There are moments in life when God feels silent. Times when we pray, cry out, or even beg, and it seems as if He doesn’t respond. In Mark 15, as Jesus hung on the cross, He experienced that same silence. With the little strength He had left, He cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 

He was at His lowest moment—physically broken, emotionally abandoned, and on the brink of death. And yet, no answer came from heaven. But even in the silence, Jesus models something life-changing: He still cried out to God. He still trusted His Father, even when He couldn’t hear or feel Him.

Some may not know that Jesus’s cry to the Father is quoting Psalm 22:1-5 which says: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest. Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the one Israel praises. In you our ancestors put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them. To you they cried out and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.” 

Was Jesus, in the fullness of his suffering, directing us back to this truth? Was He reminding us that we can fully trust God, even when we feel abandoned?

Silence does not mean absence. Often times it’s in God’s silence that He is the closest. God was present at the cross. He had not abandoned His Son, and He does not abandon us. We’re reminded in Hebrews 13:5 of God’s promise: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” When we can’t see Him working, He’s still holding us. When we can’t hear His voice, He’s still guiding us.

We see this in the story of Job. He lost nearly everything—family, health, and livelihood—and for much of his journey, God was silent. Yet Job declared in Job 13:15, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him.” Faith shines brightest not when everything is clear, but when we continue to trust God in the unknown.

The cross reminds us that even when God seems silent, He is still working out His purposes. What looked like abandonment on Good Friday was actually the pathway to resurrection on Sunday. If God was faithful then, He will be faithful now.

If we find ourselves in a season where God feels silent? My encouragement is to hold onto His promise: He is with us, even in the silence. May we continue to trust in Him.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” —John 15:5

I once read that our daily “quiet time” with God is more than just a good habit—it’s our lifeline. I think this is a challenging truth, because a lifeline isn’t optional—it’s what keeps us connected, safe, and alive. Spiritually, our connection to God through quiet times of prayer, Scripture, and worship is what sustains us. The problem is, our lives are busy and distracting. We rush from one responsibility to another and, often, the first thing to slip away is our time with God.

Many of us try to survive on Sunday alone, hoping the encouragement we get at church will carry us through the week. But by Thursday or Friday, we feel drained, discouraged, and disconnected. Why? Because we haven’t been staying connected to the lifeline. Just as our bodies can’t survive on one meal a week, our souls can’t thrive on one worship service a week. We need daily nourishment from the Lord.

Jesus makes it clear in John 15 that apart from Him, we can do nothing. Think about a phone that isn’t charged—it looks useful, but without power it’s just a useless device. The same is true of us without daily connection to God. He wants to be our strength. He wants to help us through all that we experience in life. But if we never plug into Him, we shouldn’t be surprised when we feel spiritually weak.

The psalmist in the first chapter of Psalms understood this. He describes the righteous person as a tree planted by streams of water, always bearing fruit. That picture shows us that staying rooted in God—soaking in Him daily—leads to strength and stability. In contrast, a tree without water quickly withers.

Maybe today we feel tired, dry, or overwhelmed. The answer isn’t to try harder in our own strength—it’s to go back to the lifeline: to spend time in silence with Him; to take time to pray, open His Word and let His truth refresh us. Even if it’s just a few minutes, that daily connection can change everything.

As Lamentations 3:22–23 reminds us: “His mercies are new every morning.” God has fresh strength waiting for all of us each day. The question is—are we making time to plug into Him to receive it?

I’ve been a sports fanatic all my life. And as a fan, I’m always wanting to see my teams achieve perfection. Whether it’s going undefeated or pitching a no-hitter, there’s something in me that longs to see them achieve the impossible. As a kid, I always lead my teams to perfect seasons…at least in my mind, I did. But as much as we love the idea of perfection, the reality is there’s no such thing as the perfect life.

Romans 3:23 puts it plainly: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” No one bats a thousand in life. No one hits a home run every time they step to the plate. We all strike out from time to time. We all make mistakes. We all have those moments we wish we could replay. But here’s the good news—God isn’t asking us to be flawless. In fact, He knows we’re not. What He’s looking for are hearts that lean into Him when we fall short.

This is why the words of the Lord to Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:9 are so powerful: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” In sports, a team’s character is often revealed not when they’re winning, but when they’re behind and struggling. The same is true for us. Our greatest growth doesn’t come in seasons of comfort and success, but in the moments when we’ve been knocked down and have to choose whether or not we’ll get back up.

Peter’s story in the Gospels is a perfect example. He looked Jesus in the eyes saying he would never deny Him. Yet just hours later, he failed—three times. But Jesus didn’t leave Peter in his failure. After the resurrection, Jesus went to Peter and restored him (John 21:15–19), and he went on to be a bold leader in the early church. Peter’s failure became the soil that God used to grow him deeper in humility, compassion, and courage.

The same is true for us. God can use our failures as opportunities for growth—if we let Him. Proverbs 24:16 says, “Though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.” What matters most to God isn’t whether we stumble, it’s whether we trust Him enough to get back up.

Our failure doesn’t define us—God’s grace does. And the beautiful thing about His grace is that it doesn’t just offer forgiveness; it empowers us to move forward. When we let Him work in our weakness, His strength shines through, and our story becomes a testimony of His faithfulness.

So, the next time you feel like you’ve struck out or dropped the ball, remember: God’s not asking us for perfection—He’s asking for us to persevere. May we learn from our mistakes and allow Him to teach us in the moment. So that, by His grace, we can get back up and keep growing in our relationship with Him!

In place of my normal devotion this week, I have decided to share a devotional sent out by our District Supervisor Pastor Steve Mickel. It’s a timely word that I think everyone should hear.

Over the past several years, I’ve heard many pastors and leaders longing to go back — back to when the church seemed central to our nation, when following Jesus felt more culturally acceptable. I understand that longing. When my oldest son died, all I wanted was to get back to “the way it was” before that heartbreak. But we know there’s no going back. We’ve changed. The world has changed. However, God has not changed — and He is doing a new thing.

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:19 NIV

There’s an image that illustrates this so well: the Choluteca Bridge in Honduras. In 1998, Hurricane Mitch dumped over 75 inches of rain in just four days, destroying all the roads and bridges — except one, the Choluteca Bridge. But when the floods subsided, the river had shifted. The bridge stood strong but no longer spanned the river.

What a picture of the church today. We risk becoming that old bridge — strong, but no longer connected to where the river of God’s Spirit flows. God is calling us to move with Him, to become the visible demonstration of Jesus in a world that so desperately needs Him.

When I look at the last chapters of Acts, I see this lived out in the life of Paul — a follower of Jesus who faced unthinkable persecution yet did more than anyone else to get the gospel to new places; wherever the river flowed.

Paul shows us three qualities that we need if we’re to bethe visible church: Courage, Compassion, and Consideration.

• Courage to stand for Jesus even when it costs us; not for our political rights or our freedoms, but for the name of Jesus – for His gospel of peace.
• Compassion that sees people as He does — not as problems to fix but people to love; rising to the occasion to care for the least, the lost, the hopeless, and the hungry.
• Consideration in the how we live out the compassion of Christ. Our actions and words would show respect and kindness, even when we disagree.

Our cities, neighbors, and even our social media feeds don’t need an angry church demanding its way. They need a church that looks like Jesus — courageous, compassionate, and considerate.

The river has shifted. God is doing a new thing. May we have the courage to move with Him and be the visible church for such a time as this.

In last week’s blog, I talked about living with a standing Yes to Jesus—a heart that says, “Lord, whatever You ask, the answer is already yes.” But today I want to explore an important truth that goes alongside that. Saying yes to Jesus doesn’t mean saying yes to everyone and everything. In fact, sometimes your yes to God will require a no to others.

We live in a culture that glorifies busyness. The pace of life never stops—work, family, ministry, social obligations—it all piles up. And especially for those of us who want to serve Jesus, there’s a temptation to say yes to every need that comes our way. We assume that faithfulness means constant availability. But the reality is, we were not created to live without limits. God, in His wisdom, actually commands us to rest—not just as a suggestion, but as a rhythm woven into creation. Sabbath rest isn’t laziness; it’s obedience.

Even Jesus, the Son of God, modeled this for us. In Mark 1:35-38, we read: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: ‘Everyone is looking for you!’ Jesus replied, ‘Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages—so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.’” 

After a long night of healing the sick and casting out demons, Jesus withdrew early in the morning to a quiet place to pray. His disciples came looking for Him, saying, “Everyone is looking for you!” But Jesus didn’t rush back to the crowd. Instead, He said it was time to move on to the next town—because that’s what the Father had called Him to do. Jesus was not driven by demands or expectations. He was led by the Father’s voice. That’s what made His yes so powerful—He knew when to say no.

When we say yes to every request, we risk burning out, growing resentful, and doing things in our own strength. But when we take the time to seek God’s direction—through prayer, rest, and solitude—He helps us discern His voice and His plan for us. He reminds us that we are not the Savior: He is. Our job is not to meet every need, but to be faithful to the ones He calls us to.

There may be times when someone asks for our time, our help, or our energy—and the Spirit will nudge us to say no. Not out of selfishness, but out of obedience. Us saying no may create an opportunity for someone else to step in help. 

My prayer for all of us is this: As we live with a standing yes to Jesus, may we also develop a listening heart—a heart that takes time to be still, to rest, and to seek His voice. May we trust that God will guide us—not only into what we’re supposed to do, but also away from what we’re not. And may we remember that even Jesus pulled away from the crowd, not because He didn’t care—but because He cared too much to run ahead of the Father’s will.

Let’s keep saying yes to Jesus—and trust Him to show us when it’s okay, and even necessary, to say no.

This past week, I had two separate conversations with different people—yet both shared a strikingly similar story. At some point in the last few years, they each made a decision to give God a standing “yes”. They told the Lord that no matter what He asked of them, their answer would be yes—before even knowing what He might require. 

Both of them shared how that decision led them into some really difficult—and often uncomfortable—places. God asked things of them that seemed wild, unreasonable, even risky. But here’s the amazing part: As they said yes in faith, God showed up in ways they had never experienced before. He worked miracles. He opened doors. He brought transformation. Their obedience became the pathway to some of the most life-changing experiences of their lives.

Was it easy? Not at all. Was it worth it? Without question.

As I listened to their stories, I was reminded of the prophet Isaiah’s bold response to God in Isaiah 6:8. After encountering the holiness of God and receiving His cleansing grace, Isaiah heard the Lord ask, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” Without hesitation, Isaiah replied, “Here am I. Send me.” That’s the kind of heart God is looking for in us: one that says yes before the details are laid out; one that trusts God more than it fears the unknown.

This is what it means to follow Jesus. It’s not a one-time decision, but rather a lifestyle of ongoing surrender. When Jesus called His disciples, He didn’t hand them a detailed itinerary—He simply said, “Follow me.” And they left their nets, their tax booths, their plans, and said yes. And because they said “YES”, they saw the Kingdom of God revealed. They saw miracles. They saw lives changed. And they saw their own lives transformed.

God still works this way. He wants to use each of us. He is inviting us into His Kingdom work. But He doesn’t force His way in—He patiently waits for our yes. Are we offering Him our “yes”? Are we giving Him full access to our life? Or are we holding back, waiting until things feel easier, clearer, or more comfortable?

My prayer for all of us is that we would give Jesus a standing yes. That we would say, “Here I am. Send me.” That we would live with open ears and obedient hearts—ready to follow wherever He leads…even when it’s hard, even when it doesn’t make sense. Because when we do, we place ourselves in the midst of His abiding presence, and the miraculous works that occur in and through Him. And we’ll discover, just like my two friends did, that God truly does “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20).

Jesus is calling all of us into something bigger than ourselves. But the question is—Will we say YES?

This week my wife wrote a devotional for our church that was really good, so I am sharing that here on my blog.

Be still and know that I am God. –Psalm 46:10

We’ve talked a lot about this scripture in the last couple of years. As the digital world expands and—in many ways—causes the rest of life to move faster and faster, it’s good to remember this.

It’s difficult to slow ourselves and make our minds still. And that often becomes the hang up for us—being still….Because we have to purposefully and deliberately slow down. It doesn’t just happen by a happy accident, like the trees on a Bob Ross painting.

But the stillness is not where the power resides.

My friend reminded me of this as we were talking this week. It can be so difficult to slow down that, by the time we actually DO slow down, we lose sight of the point of the verse.

“…and know that I am God.”

This is the point. This is what actually strengthens us and changes us.

And we can miss it if we’re not careful.

In 2 Corinthians 10:5, Paul says: “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”

We were made to know God: who He is; what His character is. But we have to CHOOSE to know Him.

The slowing down and practicing stillness is merely the tool we use to remember and declare who God is:

• the strength of my life
• my firm foundation 
• my provider
• my salvation
• my help in times of trouble
• the light of life

…you get the idea.

As we remember and declare who God is, we remind ourselves of why we have faith in Him and we find strength to carry on. We don’t have to know all the answers, we need only know that God does and that He is steadfast and true and always with us.

Lord, help us practice stillness so that we can KNOW that You are God. Help us to not lose sight of what we actually need—which is to know You. We are forgetful and fickle and we need the fullness of who You are in every part of our lives and every moment of our days. Draw us back to You when our hearts and minds wander so that we may live with confidence and purpose and love. We know that we find all of this in You and we thank You that we lack nothing in Your presence.

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?” –Psalm 13:1-2 (NIV)

In last week’s blog, I reflected on the importance of gratitude—how essential it is to pause and thank God for His hand in our lives. Gratitude is powerful. But if we’re honest, there are plenty of days when gratitude feels out of reach. The struggles we face—loss, disappointment, anxiety, grief—don’t naturally lead us to say “thank you.” So, what do we do with those emotions?

The short answer: We bring them to God.

Throughout the Psalms, David shows us that honesty with God is not only allowed—it’s invited. In Psalm 13, David begins with a cry of desperation: “How long, Lord?” He doesn’t sugarcoat his pain. He doesn’t wrap it up in spiritual language. He simply pours out his heart. And here’s the beautiful thing: God doesn’t turn him away.

We often think God only wants our praise, our faith, or our smiles. But the God who created our emotions can also handle our questions, our frustrations, our doubts, and even our anger. Jesus Himself cried out in anguish on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). If the sinless Son of God could express His pain honestly to the Father, then why can’t we?

David’s psalms often follow a pattern: pain, prayer, and then praise. He vents, he processes, and eventually, he remembers who God is. Psalm 13 ends with these words: “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.” –Psalm 13:5-6

That shift doesn’t happen because the circumstances have changed—it happens because David has brought his full, unfiltered self into the presence of God. And that’s where the healing begins.

There’s a story told about a little boy who came home from school angry and frustrated. His mom told him, “Go to your room and tell God how you feel.” After a few minutes, the boy came back, calmer. His mom asked what happened. He said, “I told God everything… and He listened.”

Maybe today we’re carrying things we haven’t told God about—because we think they’re too messy, too raw, or too painful. Let this be your invitation to talk to Him. He already knows, but He wants us to know that He’s listening.

We can bring it all to Him—our gratitude and our grief. Our trust and our tears. He’s not afraid of our honesty. In fact, it may be the very thing that brings healing to our souls.