Discipling Life

Have you ever been asked to do something that made absolutely no sense to you? How did you respond? This dynamic is perhaps best illustrated in the simple, often frustrating exchange between a parent and a child. A parent asks a child to do something, and the child inevitably asks, “Why?” The parental response is frequently a firm, “Because I said so.” Let’s try this again: Have you ever been asked to do something that made absolutely no sense to you — but you did it anyway because you trusted the person who asked?  Trust is the necessary bridge that spans the distance where our understanding ends. This is faith. As we navigate the Lenten journey, we rely on a trust-based faith. While our logic demands a destination before a departure, spiritual reality often requires the departure before the destination is even revealed. This is seen in the call of a man named Abram. To understand the weight of Abram’s call, we must first look at what he was leaving behind. Archaeology tells us ...

Think about the last time someone showed up for you at just the right moment. Maybe it was a neighbor who knocked on your door with a meal when life had fallen apart. Maybe it was a stranger who offered a kind word when you were on the verge of tears in the grocery store. Maybe it was a friend who simply sat with you in silence and didn’t try to fix anything. In those moments, something holy moved through an ordinary person. Grace wore a human face. And whether that person knew it or not, they were doing something ancient and sacred — they were answering a call. That’s exactly what we see in Abraham. In Genesis 12, God speaks to a man who has no roadmap, no guarantee, and no idea where he’s going. “Go,” God says, “from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1, NRSVue). For us, it is one of the most extraordinary moments in all of Scripture — not because Abraham was extraordinary, but because God chose to work through someon...

In our daily lives, we often come across moments that draw us into deeper reflections about who we are and what we are called to be. Perhaps it’s during a quiet morning, sipping coffee, when you ponder the nature of your relationships. Or maybe it’s in a moment of uncertainty, where you feel that gentle nudge toward something greater than yourself. These moments invite us into a deeper understanding of our identity as covenant people, rooted in grace and empowered for transformation. The Scripture readings for this Sunday are rich and profound, particularly Genesis 12:1-4a, where God calls Abram to leave his homeland, promising to make him a great nation. God’s invitation is rooted in a covenant—a sacred promise that signifies relationship and belonging. Abram’s response is remarkable; he follows God without knowing the full depth of what lies ahead. Here, we see the essence of grace: prevenient grace, awakening a response in us long before we realize it. Psalm 121 further reassures ...

As we continue our journey through Lent, we slow down and listen carefully to the words of Jesus. In John 3:1–17, we are invited into a quiet, nighttime conversation between Jesus and a man named Nicodemus. It is a deeply personal exchange, and it speaks to our own need for renewal. Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the dark. He is a Pharisee, a leader, a teacher of Israel. He knows the Scriptures. Yet he senses there is something more. He says, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God” (John 3:2, NRSV). He sees that God is at work in Jesus. Jesus responds with words that must have startled him: “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above” (John 3:3). Nicodemus is confused. How can someone be born again? Jesus explains, “No one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit” (John 3:5). He goes on to say, “What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit” (John 3:6). During Lent,...

As I said last week, Paul’s Letter to the Romans holds a special place in the lives of many. The epistle lesson this week comes from the fourth chapter of Paul’s letter. In the Wesleyan tradition (my own faith tradition) this chapter is significant for the following themes: Prevenient grace — God’s initiating action prior to human response. Justification by faith — being set in right relationship with God through trusting reliance upon divine grace. The universality of grace — the promise extends beyond ethnic Israel to all who share Abraham’s faith. Faith as living trust — not mere intellectual assent, but relational reliance that leads to obedient participation in God’s mission. In Lent, as we journey toward the cross, this passage reminds us that salvation originates not in human striving but in the gracious initiative of God in Christ. Wesley himself preached extensively on justification by faith and understood it as the graciou...

As we journey through the season of Lent, we are invited to pause and reflect on our relationship with God. Many people find Psalm 121 a comforting psalm, a beautiful reminder of God’s ever-watchful presence and care in our lives. A Song of Ascents Psalm 121 is part of a collection known as the "Songs of Ascents," which were sung by the people of Israel as they made their way to Jerusalem for worship. As they traveled, they needed assurance of safety on their journey, just as we often seek reassurance in our own lives. The psalm begins with the question, “I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come?” (Psalm 121:1). In a world filled with uncertainty, it’s natural to look for help and support, but the psalmist quickly reminds us that true help comes not from the hills or any earthly source, but from God himself, who created heaven and earth. God’s Unceasing Vigilance The psalm continues with a powerful declaration: “He will not let your foot be moved; he who k...