Category: Faith & Obedience

#TheStruggleIsReal

bstuetze

Several years ago, I participated in a leadership development program through my company. One of our assignments was to create a timeline of our lives and share our stories with the group.

I sat down expecting to list the major milestones, achievements, and significant moments. But as I mapped out the years, I noticed a pattern I hadn’t expected. The story wasn’t a steady climb upward. Alongside the successes were disappointments, failures, losses, and seasons when doors closed unexpectedly.

Yet when I stepped back and looked at the whole picture, something stood out. Again and again, growth seemed to emerge from difficulty. Some of the seasons I would never have chosen became the very seasons that prepared me for what came next.

Not because those seasons were enjoyable. Not because I would want to repeat them. But with the benefit of perspective, I could see that God had been at work in ways I never recognized while I was living through them.

Eventually, I realized something I couldn’t see in the moment: the difficult seasons of our lives are not interruptions to God’s plan. Very often, they become part of God’s plan.

The challenge is that most of life isn’t lived with the benefit of hindsight.

Most of us don’t experience our struggles from the perspective of ten years later. We experience them in real time. We face unanswered questions, difficult circumstances, and burdens we wish we didn’t have to carry. We don’t know how the story will unfold. We don’t know what God is doing behind the scenes.

That’s what makes Paul’s words in 2 Thessalonians so compelling.

The believers in Thessalonica were not reflecting on a difficult season from the safety of the future. They were living through one. They were facing persecution, opposition, and pressure because of their faith. Yet when Paul writes to them, he begins in a surprising place. Rather than focusing on their suffering, he points to their growth.

He tells them that their faith is “growing more and more” and that their love for one another is increasing (2 Thessalonians 1:3-4).

I often wonder if that’s how they would have described themselves.

My guess is they would have talked about the persecution.

The uncertainty.

The fear.

The exhaustion.

But Paul sees something they cannot yet see. He sees evidence that God is still at work.

In many ways, Paul is writing with hindsight while the Thessalonians are living without it.

Paul can identify growth they probably don’t recognize. He can see perseverance developing in them even while they are struggling to endure. He can see God’s work in places that probably feel painful and confusing.

Sometimes that’s exactly what Scripture does for us. It helps us see realities that our circumstances tend to hide. It reminds us that God may be doing something in us long before we recognize it ourselves.

One of the most encouraging truths in this chapter is that suffering is not proof that God has stopped working. In fact, Paul suggests the opposite.

While the Thessalonians were focused on what was happening to them, Paul was focused on what God was doing in them. Their suffering had not interrupted God’s work. God was using it to deepen faith, increase love, and build endurance.

That doesn’t mean suffering is good.

It doesn’t mean loss doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t mean Christians should pretend everything is fine.

Paul never minimizes their pain. Their suffering is real. Their struggle is real. Their grief is real.

Likewise, faith does not require us to deny disappointment or hide our questions. The Christian response to suffering is not denial. It is bringing our pain honestly into the presence of God and trusting Him in the middle of it.

James writes that “the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (James 1:2-4). Paul sees exactly that happening in Thessalonica. Their suffering is difficult, but it is not meaningless.

That brings us to the second truth Paul wants these believers to understand: God has not forgotten them.

Suffering has a way of narrowing our vision. We become consumed by the problem immediately in front of us. The unanswered prayer. The diagnosis. The uncertainty. The loss.

The Thessalonians could see today’s struggle.

Paul reminds them to remember tomorrow’s hope.

Their suffering was not evidence that God’s plan had failed. It was evidence that God’s story was still unfolding. The future still belonged to Christ.

As Paul writes elsewhere, “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18). Notice what he does not do. He does not deny the suffering. He simply refuses to let suffering be the whole story.

That matters because some of us are looking for an explanation when what we really need is reassurance.

We need to know that God sees.

God knows.

God has not forgotten us.

And perhaps most importantly, God is present with us.

The God who shapes us through suffering never abandons us in suffering.

The psalmist reminds us that “the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). God is not waiting for us on the other side of the valley. He walks with us through it.

Paul closes the chapter by praying that God will continue accomplishing His purposes in the lives of these believers (2 Thessalonians 1:11-12). That’s an important reminder because God’s goal is not merely helping us survive difficult seasons. His goal is transformation.

The Thessalonians may have felt like they were simply trying to make it through another day. Paul sees something bigger. He sees God shaping them, strengthening them, and preparing them.

As Paul reminds the Philippians, “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6). God is still at work.

Looking back on my own timeline today, I can see evidence of God’s faithfulness in places where I once saw only frustration. I can see His presence in seasons when I wondered if He was absent. But I only know those things because I am looking backward.

Most of life isn’t lived that way.

Most of life is lived in the middle of the story.

Maybe that’s where you are today.

Maybe you’re carrying grief, disappointment, uncertainty, or questions that have not been answered.

If so, remember this: we cannot yet see the whole timeline, but God can.

Faith is not built on having all the answers. Faith is built on knowing God’s character.

Faith says, “I don’t yet see what God is doing, but I know who God is.”

And because we know who He is, we can trust that He is growing our faith, securing our hope, and accomplishing His purposes, even when we cannot yet see it.

Because even now, even here, even in this chapter, God is still at work.

Please help me share the good news of Jesus and how He can change your life, and our world!

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Come back and visit at ListenLearn.Live Ministries

Stupid Question or The Wrong Question

bstuetze

There are certain conversations that seem to find their way back into the church every few years.

Sometimes it’s sparked by a war. Sometimes it’s an election. Sometimes it’s a natural disaster, a cultural shift, or a technological advance that feels like it belongs in a science fiction novel. Whatever the catalyst, it doesn’t take long before someone asks the question.

“Do you think we’re living in the end times?”

I understand the question. I’ve asked versions of it myself.

The older I get, the more I understand that the question is usually about more than biblical prophecy. Beneath it sits something much more personal. We want to know whether things are going to be okay. We want to know where history is heading. We want reassurance that the chaos we see around us is not actually chaos at all, but part of a story that remains firmly in God’s hands.

The Christians in Thessalonica carried some of those same concerns.

When Paul wrote his first letter to them, they weren’t merely curious about the future. They were worried about people they loved. Some believers had died, and the church was struggling to understand what that meant in light of Christ’s promised return. Had those people missed something? Would they somehow be absent when God’s promises were fulfilled?

Paul responds with one of the most hope-filled passages in the New Testament. He reminds them that Jesus is coming, that death is not the end of the story, and that those who belong to Christ will not be forgotten. The promise rests not on human understanding but on God’s faithfulness.

It’s a comforting answer.

What comes next is what surprises me. Because after addressing their concerns, Paul turns toward the question that naturally follows. If Christ is returning, then when?

You can almost feel the anticipation building. This is where we expect more details. This is where we expect the timeline, the explanation, the clues that will help everything make sense.

Instead, Paul essentially says that there is nothing more he needs to write.

The day will come. You don’t know when. Live accordingly.

Every time I read that passage, I find myself slightly dissatisfied.

I want more than that. I want details. I want clarity. I want God to fill in the blank spaces.

And maybe that’s why Paul’s response is so important. He understands something about human nature that hasn’t changed in two thousand years. We are often fascinated by questions that allow us to postpone the ones that actually require action.

Knowing when Jesus might return feels significant. Deciding how I should live today is harder. One invites speculation. The other demands obedience.

Years ago, I learned that lesson in an arena full of teenagers.

At the time, I was serving as a youth pastor in Flagstaff. Our youth group had traveled to a large revival event at the Skydome. If you’ve ever attended one of those large gatherings, you know the atmosphere. There is a particular kind of energy that develops when thousands of students gather in one place.

Music fills the room long before the service begins. Groups of teenagers move through the concourse in clusters. Youth pastors exchange the same exhausted smiles that communicate both excitement and concern.

Everyone is trying to make sure the students they brought with them leave with the same group they arrived with.

My daughter was four years old at the time.

She loved going wherever I was going. Looking back now, I realize those years pass far more quickly than they seem when you’re living them. At the time, it felt normal that she wanted to walk beside me everywhere. Now it feels like a gift I didn’t appreciate nearly enough.

As the event was ending, the arena became increasingly chaotic. Students were moving toward the altar area. Friends were saying goodbye. Small groups were praying together. Volunteers were trying to direct traffic. And I was doing what youth pastors do during moments like that. I was counting heads. I knew where most of my students were. Most of them.

Which, if you’ve ever worked with teenagers, is not the same thing as all of them.

I remember scanning the crowd repeatedly, trying to make sure nobody had slipped away unnoticed. Mentally, I was already solving the next problem before it arrived. Who was riding with whom? How long would loading take? Did everyone know where to meet?

In the middle of all that, Alex tugged on my sleeve.

“Mom, I want to go to the altar and pray.”

I barely looked down.

Not now.

I don’t remember my exact words. I only remember my mindset. I was occupied with things that felt urgent.

A few minutes later she asked again.

Then again.

Each time I gave some variation of the same response.

Later.

Soon.

Not right now.

The uncomfortable thing about remembering that moment is recognizing that my reasons were not selfish reasons.

I wasn’t scrolling my phone.

I wasn’t distracted by something frivolous.

I was doing ministry.

I was trying to take care of people.

I was carrying out responsibilities that genuinely mattered.

Which is precisely why I didn’t recognize what I was missing.

Eventually my senior pastor took her by the hand and offered to walk her to the altar himself.

I gladly accepted the help.

At the time it felt like one problem solved.

Only later did I realize it was actually an opportunity surrendered. When he returned, he found me and said something that immediately got my attention.

“You need to know what your daughter just did.”

As it turns out, after arriving at the altar, Alex had gathered several children around her age, sat down with them, and led them in a prayer to accept Jesus.

Even now, years later, I can still feel the mix of emotions that hit me.

Pride… Joy… Gratitude… And conviction… A lot of conviction.

Because while I had been focused on managing ministry, a four-year-old had been participating in it. While I was worrying about everything that was happening next, she was responding to what God had placed directly in front of her. I would give almost anything to go back and watch that moment unfold.

Not because it changed the course of history.

Not because it became a famous story.

But because it revealed something important about the kingdom of God.

God is often present in moments we overlook while pursuing things we consider more important. The older I get, the more I wonder how much of the Christian life is simply learning to pay attention.

Not attention to headlines.

Not attention to predictions.

Not attention to endless speculation about the future.

Attention to God.

Attention to people.

Attention to the quiet promptings of the Holy Spirit that can be drowned out by noise, busyness, and even good intentions.

When Paul moves through the rest of 1 Thessalonians 5, his focus isn’t on helping believers understand hidden mysteries. It’s on helping them become the kind of people who remain awake to God’s activity in the world. He talks about encouragement, patience, gratitude, prayer, discernment, goodness, and responsiveness to the Spirit.

In other words, he moves from prophecy to presence… From information to formation.

From speculation about what God will do someday to faithfulness in what God is doing today.

And maybe that’s because readiness for Christ’s return has never primarily been about possessing the right information.

Maybe readiness is learning to live with our eyes open.

Jesus is coming.

That promise remains certain. But until He does, I don’t want to miss another altar moment because I’m busy trying to figure out what comes next.

Maybe Paul was right. Maybe the timing was never the most important question. Maybe the better question is whether we’re paying attention today, in this moment, with what is right in front of us.

Just maybe.

Please help me share the good news of Jesus and how He can change your life, and our world!

Like, share, comment, and add your email to receive blog posts, podcasts, and more!

Come back and visit at ListenLearn.Live Ministries

Motives That Matter

bstuetze

Last week we sat with a truth that should take the pressure off every one of us: the outcomes belong to God (1 Thessalonians 1:8). The Thessalonians didn’t try to be impressive. They didn’t try to be influential. They didn’t try to be significant. They simply obeyed. And God took their ordinary obedience and made it ring out across Macedonia and Achaia. Their quiet faith became a loud testimony.

So when Paul opens Chapter 2 with, “You yourselves know… our visit to you was not a failure” (1 Thessalonians 2:1), he’s correcting their perspective. He’s saying, Don’t mislabel what God is doing. Don’t call small things insignificant. Don’t call quiet obedience a failure. Last week was about what God did. This week is about why it mattered.

Motives matter.

Paul takes us under the hood of his ministry and shows us what was driving him. And what he reveals is both inspiring and uncomfortable—because it forces us to ask what’s driving us.

He writes, “We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts” (1 Thessalonians 2:4). That’s a hard sentence. It’s honest. It’s direct. And it’s the kind of truth that doesn’t let us slip past it. Paul is saying, If you want a life that matters, you have to pay attention to what’s happening inside you.

Before Paul ever talks about courage, strategy, or impact, he talks about motives.

He reminds the Thessalonians of what happened in Philippi—the beatings, the humiliation, the public shaming (Acts 16:22–24). Everything in their circumstances said, Protect yourself. Stay quiet. Don’t risk this again. But Paul says, “With the help of our God we dared to tell you His gospel…” (1 Thessalonians 2:2). They didn’t speak because it was safe. They spoke because the Thessalonians needed truth.

Courage is one thing. But courage without clean motives can still go sideways.

So Paul goes deeper: “Our appeal does not spring from error or impure motives” (2:3). “We are not trying to please people but God” (2:4). “We never used flattery… nor were we looking for praise” (2:5–6).

Paul and Timothy lived for one audience. And that shaped everything.

Motives show up in everyday choices. They show up in the moments no one sees. They show up in the decisions we make when we’re tired, stressed, or afraid. They show up in the places where we want to be liked, or safe, or comfortable.

Sometimes the easiest way to see our motives is to ask a simple question: Would you rather…?

  • Would you rather be seen as kind… or obey God when kindness costs you something?
  • Would you rather avoid an awkward moment… or speak truth gently when someone needs it?
  • Would you rather be known as easy to get along with… or hold a boundary God asks you to hold?
  • Would you rather look spiritual… or actually follow Jesus when no one is watching?
  • Would you rather protect your reputation… or confess sin and let God make you whole?

Most of us don’t choose the world’s approval intentionally. We slide into it.

So pause long enough to notice what’s happening inside you. Where have you been living on autopilot? Where has comfort been steering your choices more than conviction? Where is the Spirit nudging you right now?

Paul moves from motives to lifestyle because motives shape how we live.

He describes how he and Timothy lived among the Thessalonians: gentle like a mother (2:7), caring and invested (2:8), hard‑working and honest (2:9), encouraging like a father (2:11–12). Their lives made the message believable.

That’s the question sitting underneath this chapter: What does your life say? Are you living for the world’s approval or God’s? Are you awake or drifting?

Jesus repeatedly says, “Stay awake” (Matthew 24:42; Mark 13:37; Luke 12:35–40). Most people don’t reject God. They drift. They settle into habits. They follow the wide road because it’s familiar. They move through life on autopilot.

When the Spirit nudges your conscience, do you notice? Or do you keep moving toward what’s comfortable?

Living awake is intentional. Living asleep is automatic.

While I was writing this I was reminded of the first car I bought myself. It was a 1980 Mustang hatchback, a 5‑speed manual. I loved that car.

With a manual transmission, you can’t drift off. You have to listen to the engine. You have to watch the RPMs. You have to feel when it’s time to shift. You have to participate in the movement of the car. Driving that Mustang required attention. It required intentionality. It required me to be awake.

My Tiguan today? It’s automatic. I can get in, put it in drive, and go. I don’t have to think. I don’t have to listen. I don’t have to engage. I can be a passive navigator—just along for the ride. (No, it does not drive itself and I’m very diligent…but that’s not the point.)

A lot of us live our spiritual lives like an automatic transmission. We move forward, but we’re not awake. We’re not listening. We’re not shifting when the Spirit prompts. We’re just drifting with the flow of the world. Staying with the smooth flow of traffic.

Paul and Timothy lived like a manual transmission—tuned to the Spirit, responsive, intentional. And because they lived awake, their lives pointed people to Jesus.

Paul ends the chapter with joy. “What is our hope, our joy, our crown…? It is you” (1 Thessalonians 2:19–20). They didn’t come to be liked. They came to please God. But they rejoiced when people came to Jesus.

This is the pattern Scripture gives us: Live for God’s approval → God draws people → their transformation becomes our joy.

So take inventory. Are you drifting or awake? Automatic or intentional? Tuned to the Spirit or tuned to the crowd?

When we live for God’s approval, people notice. God draws them. Our lives become Scripture in motion. And the outcomes belong to Him.

Last week we learned that God takes our obedience and creates significance (1 Thessalonians 1:8). This week Paul shows how that obedience becomes significant in God’s hands: when our motives aim at God, our lives become the kind of lives God uses. God takes ordinary obedience and turns it into extraordinary impact.

Motives shape direction. Direction shapes impact.

And the closest thing some people will ever get to reading the Bible is watching how we live.

Please help me share the good news of Jesus and how He can change your life, and our world!

Like, share, comment, and add your email to receive blog posts, podcasts, and more!

Come back and visit at ListenLearn.Live Ministries

When You Obey the Small, God Writes the Big

bstuetze

Last week, we as a church confronted a truth most of us resist: significance isn’t measured by size, visibility, or outcomes. Significance is measured by obedience. Not impressive obedience. Not platform‑building obedience. Just the simple, quiet kind that says, “Lord, I’ll do what You’ve put in front of me today.”

Paul shows us what that looks like in real people in 1 Thessalonians 1. And it’s not glamorous. It’s not strategic. It’s not the stuff of leadership podcasts. It’s small. It’s ordinary. And it’s exactly the kind of obedience God loves to multiply.

I want to share a recent experience with you.

I work in a field where training and technical skill matter. A few months ago, I was in a very detailed training session. For the first time with a specific program, I felt genuinely confident. We were doing a listen–do–teach model, and I finally felt like I owned it.

Then came the next step: a procedure involving a piece of equipment that touched a very raw part of my personal life.

My whole body reacted. My face must have been screaming because one of the instructors — a seasoned leader with a background in patient care — noticed. She had been watching me go from confident to undone. She didn’t call attention to it. She didn’t correct me. She simply caught my eye, smiled gently, and motioned for me to come over.

She put her arm around my shoulder and said, “What’s going on, friend?”

I started tearing up. My hands shook. My voice cracked.

“I just can’t do that part. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

She didn’t shame me. She didn’t push me. She didn’t make it a moment. She simply said, “You don’t have to.”

I told her a little about my daughter — about her lungs collapsing as a newborn, about the ventilator, about how that memory still lives in my body. And how I didn’t feel capable of doing that procedure, especially in front of a room full of peers. Frankly speaking, admitting that was hard.

She nodded and said, “I’m so glad you told me. Sometimes we forget that people carry stories into these rooms.”

She took me to a quiet station and walked me through everything. I completed the training. I explained the process, the purpose, the outcomes — without having to perform the part that caused me to struggle.

It was such a small thing for her… It was significant for me.

She might not know it, but it changed how I teach. I pay more attention now. I listen better. I notice people.

She wasn’t trying to be significant. She wasn’t thinking about her title or her expertise. She wasn’t trying to be a hero. She simply noticed what was right in front of her — a colleague who was struggling. And God multiplied it.

Paul saw this same pattern in the Thessalonians.

When he writes to them in 1 Thessalonians 1, he doesn’t praise their size, their strategy, or their outcomes. He praises their obedience — their faithful work, their loving deeds, their enduring hope. Small things. Everyday things. Things that don’t look significant until God gets involved.

Paul says their work was produced by faith — the kind of faith Galatians 5:6 describes as “faith expressing itself through love.” Their labor was prompted by love — the kind Jesus says will mark His disciples in John 13:35. Their endurance was inspired by hope — the kind Jesus speaks of in John 16:33 when He says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

And then Paul says something astonishing: their faith “rang out” everywhere. Their quiet obedience became a global testimony.

They didn’t plan that.

They didn’t intend that.

They didn’t strategize that.

They didn’t imagine that.

God amplified it.

I saw that same pattern again this past week.

At a company gathering, one of the speakers — look him up, he’s amazing: Shola Richards — introduced a new concept: kossip. It’s kind of the opposite of gossip. Instead of tearing people down behind their backs, you hype them up with the truth of their love in action.

During the session, someone at my table shared a story about a young man on our support team. He had gone out of his way to help her. I was surprised — it was the same person I was planning to kossip about. See how that works!

He had helped me the week before with a complex technical setup. He researched everything, sent me instructions, prepared what I needed, and made sure everything was ready on time. And then, after I told him I was nervous about messing something up, he created a little “Betsy phone‑a‑friend” chat with two technicians who were on call and available during each of my meetings. And yes — I needed them. When one of the devices wasn’t working, someone calmly asked, “Betsy, did you hit start?” It’s ok to laugh…it’s funny. At least he didn’t have to ask if I had plugged it in, right?

Later I learned he had volunteered to stay behind during the event where we were all kossiping about him, to keep things running smoothly with his department. During our kossip session, we decided to nominate him for a quarterly recognition — something no one in his role had yet received.

He wasn’t trying to be significant.

He wasn’t trying to be recognized.

He was simply doing his job — right where he was — the best way he knew how.

And God multiplied it.

Just like the Thessalonians.

The Thessalonians didn’t begin with the end in mind. They didn’t chase influence or visibility. They simply obeyed what was right in front of them — faithful work, loving deeds, enduring hope. And God wrote the ending. God amplified what they offered. God carried their witness farther than they ever could have imagined. That is the pattern of the Kingdom: small obedience in human hands becomes significant in God’s hands.

Obedience is your part. Significance is God’s part.

May we be a church known not for our size, but for our obedience.

Our obedience is all we own. The outcomes belong to God.

And in that truth, friends, there is real freedom — because Jesus carries what we cannot.

So walk in the small things with faithful work, loving deeds, and enduring hope.

Trust God with the outcomes.

Stay rooted in Christ, and be who you’re called to be — then watch what He does with that.

He can take what feels small and make it known to the ends of the earth.

Please help me share the good news of Jesus and how He can change your life, and our world!

Like, share, comment, and add your email to receive blog posts, podcasts, and more!

Come back and visit at ListenLearn.Live Ministries

El Emet — The God Who Does Not Move

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There is a name for God in Scripture that has been pressing on my heart: El Emet — the God of Truth, the God who is faithful. Not faithful because life is easy, or because we are strong, or because we always stand firm. God is faithful because it is His nature. His promises come from who He is, and who He is does not change.

And that matters, because we change. Some days our faith feels steady; other days we feel afraid, tired, or unsure. Some days we obey quickly; other days we hesitate or hide. But God does not shift the way we do. He does not move with pressure or bend under fear. He remains who He is.

Scripture says, “If we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself.” God does not become more faithful when we are strong or less faithful when we are weak. He is constant. Jesus said, “I am with you always.” Not sometimes. Not only when we feel brave. Not only when life is peaceful. Always. His presence is not fragile. His nearness is not conditional. His faithfulness is not based on our performance. He is with us because He promised to be — and He keeps His word.

The name El Emet appears in Psalm 31:5, where David prays, “Into Your hand I commit my spirit; You have redeemed me, O LORD, El Emet.” David did not pray this from a safe place. He prayed it while running for his life. King Saul wanted him dead. David hid in caves, moved from place to place, and lived with fear, betrayal, and uncertainty.

Psalm 31 shows us his reality: “Terror on every side.” “My strength fails.” “I am forgotten like a dead man.” And yet — in the middle of danger — David says, “I trust You with my life because You are El Emet. You are steady. You are true. You do not change.” David trusted God not because life was stable, but because God was.

Psalm 31 was written about 1,000 years before Jesus. A full millennium. And then Jesus — fully God and fully man — hangs on the cross and says, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.” Jesus is quoting David’s prayer. But He is not simply repeating it — He is fulfilling it.

David trusted God while fleeing Saul. Jesus trusted the Father while giving His life for the world. David was a man after God’s heart. Jesus is the heart of God revealed. David trusted God with his life. Jesus trusted the Father with His life, His death, and His resurrection. Jesus is the living proof that God is El Emet — the God who keeps His promises across generations.

Following Jesus looks different in every part of the world, but the cost is real everywhere. For some, the pressure comes from the outside — from family expectations, cultural resistance, or environments where faith is misunderstood or unwelcome. For others, the struggle is quieter — the slow pull of distraction, the weight of loneliness, the fear of disappointing people, or the battle inside the heart.

But no matter where we live or what we face, one truth remains: God’s faithfulness is not limited by circumstance. His presence is not blocked by pressure. His promises are not undone by suffering. El Emet is steady when everything else shakes.

Most of our lives are lived in small, hidden moments — a quiet prayer, a decision to forgive, a choice to hope, a moment of courage no one else sees. These moments matter deeply to God. Faithfulness in hidden places is still faithfulness. And in those places, God meets us — not with distance, but with nearness; not with fear, but with strength; not with uncertainty, but with truth.

Scripture says, “The One who calls you is faithful, and He will do it.” God does not call us and then leave us alone. He calls, and He carries. He leads, and He protects. He begins, and He completes.

God’s faithfulness invites a response from us — not to earn His love, but to walk in it; not to prove ourselves, but to trust Him; not to impress Him, but to follow Him. So here is the invitation, simple and real: take one step of faith. Trust Him with what you fear. Say yes where you have been hesitant. Obey where you have delayed. Walk forward even if the path is narrow. Choose Him over comfort. Choose truth over fear. Choose life over what looks safe.

Not because you are strong, but because He is faithful. Not because you know the outcome, but because you know His character. Not because the road is easy, but because He walks it with you.

When everything shifts, God does not. When everything feels uncertain, He remains steady. When everything around you changes, His faithfulness does not move.

El Emet — the God of Truth — is faithful. And because He is faithful, you can trust Him with your next step.

Please help me share the good news of Jesus and how He can change your life, and our world!

Like, share, comment, and add your email to receive blog posts, podcasts, and more!

Come back and visit at ListenLearn.Live Ministries

Reading God’s Story Together This Year: A Chronological Journey Through the Bible

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As we close out one year and step into another, I’ve been thinking about how much can change around us — and how quickly. Circumstances shift. Seasons shift. Our own hearts shift. But God does not. His truth does not. His Word does not.

At our year‑end celebration at Tucson Community Fellowship, we spent time remembering God’s faithfulness — the ways He has carried us, provided for us, and stayed close in both the loud and quiet moments. And woven through all of it was one of our core pillars: we are a people dedicated to God’s Word. Not because it’s the only thing we value, but because it’s the foundation under everything else. God’s Word shapes how we live, how we love, how we grow, and how we walk with Him into whatever comes next.

Scripture says, “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.” (Isaiah 40:8)
When life feels uncertain or unstable, God’s Word remains steady. It doesn’t shift with culture or circumstance. It stands.

And because God is faithful, He keeps inviting us back — back to Himself, back to His presence, back to His Word.

There’s something about this time of year that makes that invitation feel especially clear. Not because a new calendar has power, but because our hearts are paying attention. We’re looking back at what was. We’re looking ahead at what could be. And in the middle of all of that, God gently says what He has always said: “Return to Me.”  (Joel 2:12)

Not with guilt.
Not with pressure.
Not with performance.
But with trust.

The psalmist wrote, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105)
A lamp doesn’t light the whole road — just the next step. And sometimes that’s exactly what we need. God’s Word doesn’t just give information; it gives direction. It steadies us when everything else feels unsteady.

This year, I want to invite you to take that next step with us.

Beginning this week, we’re launching a daily Bible‑reading vlog — a simple rhythm where we read through the entire Bible in one year together. And we’ll be reading it in chronological order — the story of God as it unfolded in history, not just as the books appear in our Bibles. This helps us see the bigger picture: God’s faithfulness across generations, His patience, His promises, and His heart for people.

You’ll see Pastor Kayte Sanford, myself, and other leaders from our Tucson Community Fellowship family. Each day’s reading will end with one reflection question — something practical and honest, something that helps you pause and let God’s Word settle into your heart.

And we want this to be a conversation, not a one‑way message. If you have questions about anything in the day’s reading — a verse, a theme, something that felt confusing, or something that stood out — you’re invited to ask. You don’t need to know the Bible well. You don’t need to have the “right” words. You don’t even need to be sure what you believe yet. You are welcome here.

Every Friday, we’ll gather the questions that came in throughout the week and share our responses. Not as experts, but as fellow learners — people walking the same road, listening to the same Scriptures, and trusting the same faithful God.

This isn’t about perfection.
It’s about presence.
It’s about showing up.
It’s about letting God’s Word shape us again.

Paul wrote, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.” (Colossians 3:16)
That’s the invitation. Not to rush. Not to skim. But to let God’s Word take root — to let it form us from the inside out.

My prayer is simple: that as we read together, God will steady us. That His truth will anchor us. That His voice will become familiar again. And that our faith — quiet, imperfect, growing — will begin to live in new ways.

If you’ve been wanting to reengage with Scripture, this is a good time.
If you’ve been longing for direction, this is a good time.
If you’ve been feeling the pull to return to God’s Word, this is a good time.

Not because the calendar changed.
But because God is faithful.
And He is inviting you.

Let’s walk this year together — one day, one chapter, one step of faith at a time.