Culture rewards niceness because it preserves comfort. Scripture calls for kindness because it preserves truth. What modern language calls “nice” often avoids conflict, while biblical kindness reflects the character of YHWH, who speaks truth for the sake of redemption. The difference is not personality. It is theology.
Discover the biblical truth about Jesus’ character through the Literal Standard Version (LSV). Jesus wasn’t “nice”—He was kind, powerful, and uncompromising in truth. Explore what it means to follow a Savior who values the heart over comfort and truth over tolerance.
Discover the biblical truth about healing — why real transformation requires letting go of the familiar pain that keeps you bound. A reflection inspired by Scripture, written in the poetic wisdom of faith and surrender.
How do we understand the “name” of God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit—together, yet distinct? How do repentance and forgiveness tie into this “Name,” and what does the gospel call us to preach? In this post we examine Luke 24:47, Acts 2, and the baptismal grounding of the New Testament, weaving poetic reflection, relational invitation, and deep wisdom.
There are moments in your faith journey when God’s Word stops being something you read—and becomes something you live.
In my own walk with Him, I found one of those moments buried in the very beginning, between Genesis 1 and Genesis 2.
It changed how I saw myself, how I understood God, and how I now live within His purpose.
Our words shape more than conversation—they sculpt the atmosphere of the soul. Drawing from the Literal Standard Version (LSV) of Scripture, this reflection unites the poetic cadence of Tennyson, the relatability of Billy Graham, and the steady wisdom of C. S. Lewis to reveal how faith-filled speech transforms the heart, renews the mind, and honors God.
As I’ve been deepening my walk with Jesus and studying the Scriptures more intently, I’ve stumbled upon truths about life after death that have completely reshaped the way I see both heaven and earth.
Ha-Satan” is not simply a name—it is a title: the adversary/accuser. The Bible presents this figure functionally. Later traditions expanded the narrative into a cosmic rebel-king. Understanding the original meaning rewires how you relate to the adversary: not from fear, but from freedom; not from dread, but from declaration: Case dismissed.
Whether Job faced him, Jesus met him, or you face him now — the verdict remains the same. Understand the name. Recognise the role. Walk in freedom.
The Book of Job stands apart from every other book in Scripture. It dares to ask the question that trembles behind every quiet tear and sleepless night: If God is so good, why do the innocent suffer? Job was a man of staggering wealth and greater righteousness—a man whose prayers covered not only his own life but the hearts of his children. Yet the story opens not in his home, but in heaven, where “the sons of God” present themselves before the Lord, and among them stands ha-Satan—not yet the devil of later theology, but the accuser, the adversary permitted to test the faith of humankind.
It isn’t until recently that I’ve come to understand this truth: people do not act from malice alone, but from limitation. For years I believed it was my duty to teach and awaken — yet the person who taught me the hardest lesson did so not through wisdom, but through their blindness. They wounded without remorse and blamed without reflection.
True freedom begins when you stop defending your innocence and start examining your fault. Every act of humility sharpens awareness; every admission of wrong polishes the soul. As Paul wrote, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.” (1 Corinthians 13:12, ESV)
I no longer call people evil — I call them limited. And I no longer call myself a victim. I call myself awake.