The G.O.A.T.

“The Son of God came to destroy the works of the devil.” (1 John 3:8, NLT)

In every dorm room debate, group text thread, or sports documentary, the question always comes up: Who’s the G.O.A.T.?—the Greatest of All Time.

Is it Jordan or LeBron? Brady or Montana? Serena or Steffi? Messi or Ronaldo? The arguments rage on, stats are compared, highlight reels analyzed. Everyone has their pick. But there’s one G.O.A.T. whose greatness surpasses trophies, titles, or talent. His arena wasn’t a court or field—it was a cross. His victory wasn’t won with a ball or a racket, but with the weight of our sin upon His shoulders.

In Leviticus 16, God gave Moses instructions for the Day of Atonement—a day when Israel’s sins were symbolically dealt with through two goats. One was sacrificed. The other, the scapegoat, was brought before the priest, who would lay his hands on its head and confess over it the sins of the people. Then the goat was led far away into the wilderness, carrying all the guilt, shame, and sin of the people out of the camp…never to return.

It’s a haunting picture—and a holy one.

Thousands of years later, we see Jesus—the true scapegoat—bearing not just symbolic sins, but the real, soul-staining filth of humanity. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:21, "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (NIV). Jesus didn’t just carry our sins away—He became sin for us.

And He didn’t stop there.

He doesn’t just remove our guilt—He destroys its power. “Having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross” (Colossians 2:15, NIV).

The Enemy, through sin, had us locked in shame. But Jesus took all that sludge—our guilt, our fear, our unworthiness—and hauled it upon Himself, back to hell where it belongs. The fiery darts of the wicked one hold no power over us because Jesus, our scapegoat, has removed them—as far as the East is from the West.

So, who’s the real G.O.A.T.?

Not the one with rings or records, but the One with the scars.
Not the one who entertains crowds, but the One who redeems them.
Jesus is the greatest of all time—not just because of what He did, but because of who He is—the Risen One.

And now, because of Him, we stand forgiven, free… victorious!

Happy Easter

Worth It

"Is anything worth more than your soul?” (Matthew 16:26, NLT)

Have you ever wandered through a yard sale and felt that quiet tension between buyer and seller? The seller lays out their timeworn pieces, each priced high, carrying not just a dollar amount, but history and an emotional attachment. Every item has a story—a reminder of its usefulness and the memory of its original cost.

The buyer doesn’t see or appreciate any of that. They’re only looking for a deal. When they make a lowball offer, it stings. The seller rejects it outright. And the buyer just shrugs, turns away, and says, "It’s not worth it."

Worth it.

It’s more than just a phrase—it's the filter we use to measure almost everything in life. What’s worth your time, your money, your energy? What's worth...you?

The worth of anything is measured by what someone is willing to give in exchange for it. Did you know that in God’s economy, your soul—your very self—is of inestimable worth? So valuable, in fact, that He gave the life of His one and only Son in exchange for you.

But here’s the twist: in the marketplace of life, we are the ones who decide what our soul is worth. We choose what we’re willing to trade it for—approval, status, pleasure, influence, security, success, control. The world doesn’t value people the way God does. It has its own ideas of worth, constantly pressuring us to sell out for the next shiny thing. Society measures value by usefulness, beauty, and influence—but God looks at the heart.

Scripture warns us not to fall for the Esau syndrome—trading away God’s lifelong gift in order to satisfy a short-term appetite (Hebrews 12:16–17, MSG). Esau sold his birthright for a bowl of stew. He walked away with a full stomach—but an empty soul.

Your soul is not a discount item. It’s not something to trade for fleeting pleasures or worldly applause. You are the apple of God's eye—His beloved, fearfully and wonderfully made. And while the enemy is happy for you to sell your soul—whether for millions or for a moment—God calls you to hold out for the higher price, the one that reflects your true, immeasurable worth.

King David once asked, “What are mere mortals that you should think about them?" (Psalm 8:4, NLT). Centuries later, the Apostle Paul gave the answer: “But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners" (Romans 5:8, NLT). That’s your value.

So be vigilant. Guard your eyes, your ears, your heart, and your mind. Every moment of every day, you’re deciding what your soul is worth. Don’t let the world write that price tag—because Jesus already did.

And He says, “You’re worth it.”

The Tree … It’s Already There

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree…” (1 Peter 2:24, ESV)

Before I ever knew Jesus as my Savior, I knew a song about Zacchaeus and a sycamore tree. As a kid, my grandma occasionally took me to church. The children gathered in the damp church basement and I remember flannel graph stories on the felt board, cookies and punch, and songs with motions that we sang at the top of our lungs. One of those songs went like this:

Zacchaeus was a wee little man, a wee little man was he.
He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see…

Back then, it was just a fun song—but now I see it meant so much more.

In Luke 19 we find that Zacchaeus wasn’t just a “wee little man.” He was a man who was lost. A tax collector who was hated and despised. He was a Jew in bed with Rome, and his sin wasn’t hidden—it was public, notorious, and shameful. Yet there he was, climbing up a tree, wanting to see Jesus. He was a man deeply in need of a grace that he didn’t even know existed.

The tree itself was ordinary—just a tree along the dusty road. But when Zacchaeus climbed it, something changed. That tree became a holy place—an unexpected avenue where Jesus would stop, look up, and call him by name.

According to theologians, that tree served as “prevenient grace” in Zacchaeus’s life. In simple terms, it means “going before.” It’s the kindness of God that reaches for us before we reach for Him. It’s God wooing us unto Himself. It’s that nudge—the tug in your heart to look to Jesus. It’s more faithful than a praying grandmother. More beautiful than a song you remember from childhood. It’s love—pure and persistent. It’s Jesus walking the road you didn’t know you’d be on, calling your name before you even thought to look up.

Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus. But the truth is, Jesus was already looking for him. That sycamore tree was the bridge that brought him face to face with the Savior. There is another tree that stands in the path of all of us—the tree upon which Christ was crucified. And just like the tree Zacchaeus climbed, the cross goes before us, serving as a bridge to new life. The cross of Christ is where our sins are forgiven. It is the means by which we are saved.

I am Zacchaeus—and so are you. Jesus is always going before us, wooing us unto Himself. He can take anything—an old church basement, a loving grandmother, even a silly song—and use it for good in our lives. He is already looking, already loving, and already preparing the way for you and for me.

And the tree?… It’s already there.

Tomorrow Never Comes

“Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts…”

(Hebrews 3:15, NIV)

The other day, I visited a good friend of mine, a wise and godly man who is 91 years old and confined to his bed. I visit him weekly, offering whatever encouragement I can, but it's always me who walks away feeling blessed.

During our time together, I reminded him that today is a unique gift from God, saying, "Today is the only Monday, March 31, 2025, that has ever existed in time and eternity." He paused and replied, "Wow, I guess that’s right."

I went on to say, "Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow is uncertain. Today is all we have—it’s a gift.” My friend smiled knowingly and said, "You know, tomorrow never comes." Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "Did I ever tell you about the bar in New York?"

I hadn’t heard the story, so he shared what I thought was a memory from his younger days. He told me about a bar in New York with a sign on the wall that read, “Free Beer Tomorrow”—where one guy kept coming back every day for his free beer, and the bartender would always say, “Nope, read the sign.”

As I chuckled at the old joke, my friend smiled and repeated, "Tomorrow never comes."

And that isn't a joke—it’s the truth.

The Enemy deceives us with the illusion of a tomorrow that never comes. He whispers, "There will be time later to get things right. Tomorrow, you’ll make that change. Tomorrow, you’ll turn to God." But the truth is, tomorrow never arrives. We have “plans” and put things off, thinking, “I’ll do it tomorrow.” But then we look back months, even years later, and realize all we have is a bunch of empty yesterdays.

Scripture pleads with us: "Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts." Not tomorrow—today. When we hear God's voice—whether it's a gentle nudge to forgive, a prompting to step into something new, or a call to repentance—and we delay, saying, “not yet,” we begin to close off the tenderness and trust that a “yes” to God requires. Over time, that repeated “not yet” becomes a hard-hearted “no” without us even realizing it.

God’s invitation to “today”  isn’t for when life settles down or when we feel more ready—it’s for now. God is speaking to us in this moment, calling us to surrender, to reconcile, to create, to live fully in Him.

Lean into Jesus. Act now, because… tomorrow never comes.

Thorns and Nails

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31, KJV)

The other day, I was talking with a friend who had recently undergone a serious heart procedure. Her doctors were monitoring her for three months to determine whether the treatment had been successful.  She told me the waiting was the hardest part—every little flutter or twinge sent a wave of concern through her. She looked at me and said, “I’m on pins and needles.”

There are moments in life when we wait—when the days stretch on endlessly and uncertainty grips our hearts. We wait for a diagnosis, a job offer—an answer. And in that waiting, we often feel like we’re on pins and needles, fraught with anxiety, held captive by the tension of the unknown.

But it doesn’t have to be like this. Isaiah 40:31 describes a different kind of waiting: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength…”

In the Bible, the Hebrew word for “wait” conveys the image of interwoven strands—like cords twisted and bound together to form something strong and unbreakable. It’s a waiting where our souls are entwined with the Lord’s heart rather than tangled in the worry and fear of the world. It’s an active, expectant waiting that draws us closer to God’s presence and strengthens us with His promises.

Jesus is at the very center of this different kind of waiting. He took on thorns and nails so that you and I wouldn't have to endure pins and needles. He carries us—and the weight of our fears and burdens—so that we might live in peace, no longer captives to anxiety.

Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

(John 14:27, NIV)

He invites us to “wait” upon Him. In Jesus, we soar like eagles, run with strength, and walk without fainting. We are empowered to endure, persevere, and trust, as He is our portion. We trade our pins and needles for His peace—a peace that sustains us in the moment and carries us into the unknown. 

It’s a peace found in waiting—a waiting He secured for us through thorns and nails.

 They Really Lived

“Sirs, what do I have to do to be saved—to really live?”

(Acts 16:30, MSG)

One of my favorite movies is Secondhand Lions. It tells the story of two eccentric old uncles, Hub and Garth, who spend their latter days sitting on the porch, shooting at trespassing traveling salesmen, and bemoaning days gone by. In their youth, they fought wars, hunted wild animals, and chased treasure and adventure at every turn. They even battled—and eventually befriended—a rich and powerful sheikh in North Africa.

Their story is told by their nephew, Walter, who grew up living with these two uncles. In the final scene, after his uncles have passed, Walter, now an adult, is approached by another man—the grandson of the very sheikh from his uncles' stories—with a question full of wonder: “So, the two men from my grandfather’s stories, they really lived?”

Walter nods and replies, “Yeah… they really lived.”

It’s a simple statement, but it lingers. “They really lived.” Not just existed, not just survived…but truly, fully…lived.

What does it mean to really live?

This isn’t just an abstract idea—it’s a question as old as time. Two thousand years ago, a Philippian jailer, shaken to his core, asked Paul and Silas the very same thing: “Sirs, what must I do to be saved—to really live?” (Acts 16:30, MSG)

Our world is obsessed with the idea of an extraordinary life. Social media floods us with highlight reels, fueling the fear that we’re missing out on something bigger and better. At first glance, Hub and Garth seem to embody real life. But Scripture tells us otherwise—true life isn’t about chasing adventure—it’s about trust. A deep, full, soul-satisfying life comes from trusting Jesus, the One who is the way, the truth and the life.

Paul and Silas didn’t tell the jailer to do more or try harder. Their answer was simple: "Put your entire trust in the Master Jesus. Then you’ll live as you were meant to live." (Acts 16:31, MSG)

To really live isn’t about a constant search for meaning, always chasing something just out of reach, or writing the wildest, most adventurous story with your life—it’s about trusting in the One who wrote life itself. It’s about walking with Jesus, knowing Him, and letting His presence fill your days with purpose.

So stop striving for life where it cannot be found. Trust Jesus. Abide in Him.

And really live.

Can God Trust You?

Because of the miraculous signs Jesus did in Jerusalem at the Passover celebration, many began to trust in him. But Jesus didn’t trust them, because he knew all about people. No one needed to tell him about human nature, for he knew what was in each person’s heart.

(John 2:23-25, NLT)

I served for eight years as an administrator at an International Christian School in South Korea. It was a place deeply rooted in missional heritage and dedicated to providing educational excellence to students in Asia. My family and I had been at the school for three years when something unexpected happened.

One day, I was called into the Head of School's office, and to my surprise, he offered me the job of Assistant Head of School—the number two position in the organization. I was humbled and deeply honored. It was an incredible opportunity. I had administrative experience, but that wasn’t why I was offered the job. It wasn’t about skills or qualifications—he said it was about trust. The Head of School chose me because he trusted me to steward and champion the school’s mission and vision with integrity.

Trust is an immense gift, not to be taken lightly. We see this in Jesus' encounter with the people in Jerusalem. Many trusted in Him after witnessing the miracles He performed, yet the passage tells us that Jesus did not trust them. Why? Because He knew the human heart—He understood the fleeting nature of surface-level faith. He knew that while people might be drawn to signs and wonders, their hearts were not fully surrendered to the deeper purpose of His mission.

This raises a challenging question: Can God trust you and me? It’s one thing to trust God for what He can do for us, but have we considered the trust He places in us? God’s Word shows that trust is built not in moments of glory, but in daily decisions to follow Him with all our hearts. His trust is realized in us through the precious gift of the Holy Spirit, empowering us to fulfill His purposes. He trusts us as we abide in Him through surrender and holy living.

2 Timothy 2:21 says, "If you keep yourself pure, you will be a special utensil for honorable use. Your life will be clean, and you will be ready for the Master to use you for every good work." (NLT)

We can’t earn our salvation, but we can position ourselves to be trusted and used by God for every good work. Lean into Jesus, His holiness, and His mission, and you may be surprised with the incredible opportunities He provides—trusting you with more than you ever imagined.

Scrolling Through Life

"Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like."

(James 1:23-24, NIV)

Scrolling is no longer just something we do on our phones and computers—it has become a way of life. We live in an age of distraction. Social media, news, entertainment, and endless notifications pull us in a thousand directions, causing us to skim through everything—important moments, key relationships, engagement with God, and ultimately... life itself.

E. Stanley Jones wisely observed,

"What gets your attention, gets you."

And therein lies the danger of a scrolling heart and life. What is getting our time, our thoughts, our attention, and… our worship? Distraction isn’t just a focus problem. It’s a worship problem. True worship isn't realized in rituals or religious practices—it’s about where we direct our devotion, commitment, and energy. It’s about the things that capture our eyes, our minds, and our hearts.

Eugene Peterson once noted that without worship, we live "manipulated and manipulating lives"—at the mercy of every advertisement, every seduction, every siren. We become vulnerable to whatever demands our attention next, reacting to the world’s noise instead of resting in God’s voice. Distracted, we forget God… and who we are in Him.

James warns us about treating Scripture the same way we treat our news feeds—glancing at it, then moving on unchanged. God’s Word is meant to shape us, not just be another post to scroll through. A mirror shows us who we are, but it only helps if we remember and respond to what we see. God’s Word is the same. It reveals our identity in Christ—but if we don’t pause to let it shape us, we remain unchanged.

Our thoughts shape who we become. If we allow our hearts and minds to be ruled by distractions, we will conform to the chaos around us. But if we fix our minds on Jesus—meditating on His Word instead of scrolling past it—we will be transformed (Rom. 12:2).

When it comes to attention, the question isn’t “What are you looking at?”—it’s “What are you worshiping?” Stop scrolling through life and fix your eyes on the One who is Life, the One worthy of all our attention—Jesus.

Sour Milk

“You cannot keep your milk sweet and yet let anything into your dairy; one dirty germ can sour an entire milking.” — J.H. Jowett

Blessed is the man

    who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,

nor stands in the way of sinners,

    nor sits in the seat of scoffers… (Psalm 1:1, ESV)

As a kid, I loved helping my grandad milk his 35 cows on his small farm. He used a vacuum system to pump the milk from the udders into stainless steel buckets, and then he vigilantly strained and filtered the milk into tall, heavy milk cans. Once full, we hammered the lids onto the cans and set them in an icy bath, ready for early morning pickup by the milk hauler.

Each week, my grandad received a check from the milk company—his reward for delivering pure milk. But occasionally, a rejection letter arrived instead. Inside was a stained piece of filter—proof that the milk he provided that week had been contaminated. Whether it was a dead fly, barn dirt, or something unseen, the result was the same: the entire day’s milking—all 35 cows’ worth—was rejected. One impurity ruined it all.

Just as a speck of dirt can spoil an entire milking, a trace of sin can sour our soul. Psalm 1:1 reveals the deadly decline—it starts small—listening to the wrong voices. Worldly counsel may seem good, but it’s not always godly, leading us down a path of doubt, selfishness, and sin. And before long, we’re seated with the scoffers—cynical, critical, and dismissive—and that small trace of sin ultimately taints our entire life.

It’s been said, “Sow a thought, reap an action; sow an action, reap a habit; sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.” The slow souring of the soul begins with a single thought, a small compromise, an unchecked influence, and over time, these choices harden into habits that ultimately shape who we become. We don’t wake up one morning dirty and distant from God—it happens gradually—one unfiltered moment at a time.

So what happens when impurities show up? The good news is that while soured milk must be discarded, a soiled soul can be restored—through Jesus, His cross, and the power of His precious blood. In 1 John 1:9, we’re given this promise: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (ESV).

Are you vigilantly filtering your mind and guarding your heart against subtle contamination? Be sure to look to Jesus! The blessed life is not about perfection—it’s about being pure and holy in Him. 

A Tale of Two Rivers

When a dirty river and a clean river come together, the result is—dirty river. — William Stafford

There I saw a stream flowing east from beneath the door of the Temple … The waters of this stream will make the salty waters of the Dead Sea fresh and pure. … Life will flourish wherever this water flows. (Ezekiel 47:1, 8-9 NLT)

In this tale of two rivers, Stafford speaks a hard truth. We’re up to our necks in murky water. Life in this world, where negativity is the norm and decay is the default, is hard. The pollution of global conflict, never-ending news, relentless fear, and the sludge of social media swirl around us, and the result is—dirty river

But God’s river is different. Ezekiel speaks of the Truth—a river that doesn’t become tainted, but transforms. Flowing from His Holy Temple, it touches the barren, the lifeless, the polluted, and makes them new. God’s river grows deeper, stronger, and purer as it flows, bringing healing, restoration, and life. When the stream from the Temple meets the Dead Sea, the result is—clean river.

This river of life isn’t just a vision—it’s a reality—and His name is Jesus. “Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them” (John 7:38, NIV). When we look to and follow Christ, His Spirit flows in us and through us, and it doesn't just cleanse—it transforms. No matter how "murky" things may be, His water saves, sanctifies, and gives life.

In this tale of two rivers—dirty or clean—where do you find yourself?

In the midst of hard truth or… the Truth?