Worship never existed as escape from the world, but preparation for life within it.
For many years, I held piety as my god.
The reasoning was always the same. The gods were angry. The gods were hungry. The gods required payment.

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The reasoning was always the same. The gods were angry. The gods were hungry. The gods required payment.
God wasn’t finished with Israel just yet. The wilderness wasn’t their home.
Living by faith has never been about what we bring to the table. It has always been, and always will be, about what God does for us when we can’t do anything for ourselves.
We can’t remove our crosses or the reality of our deaths. Only Jesus can.
The Passover wasn’t just Israel’s story; it’s ours.
Salvation is not merely to be put in “safety” but to be put into Christ.
His provision always flows downward, furnishing and filling us with his grace and truth right where we are.
Christ did not merely urge humanity to be kind. He embodied perfect kindness by giving his life for those who neither earned nor expected such a gift.
This story points us from our unlikely heroes to the even more unlikely, and joyous, good news that Jesus’ birth for us was just as unlikely and unexpected.
Illness is not romantic. It is not a test, a metaphor, nor a blessing in disguise.
The unity of God’s people is grounded not in lineage nor land but in the promise of the coming Christ.
Thanksgiving, then, is not just about plenty. It is about redemption.