finishing costs

Posted on April 30, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-30

devotional post #2003

Luke 14:25-30

Luk 14:25 Large crowds were going along with Jesus, and once — turning to them he said,
Luk 14:2 “If anyone comes to me and does not detest his own father and mother, and wife and children, and brothers and sisters, and even his own soul, he cannot be my disciple.
Luk 14:27 Whoever does not carry his own cross and come behind me is unable to be my disciple.
Luk 14:28 Because which of you, if you desire to build a tower, doesn’t sit down first and calculate the cost to see if he has enough money for its completion?
Luk 14:29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish the tower, all who see it will begin to show disrespect of him.
Luk 14:30 This is what they will say, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish!’

finishing costs

The Gospels make it clear that Jesus was surrounded by crowds—throngs of people drawn to his miracles, his authority, his compassion, and his teaching. But when the story reaches its climax, he stands alone. No one carries the cross with him. No one finishes the road to Golgotha at his side. The crowds were enthusiastic followers, but they were not finishers. And Jesus, knowing this, stopped along the road and challenged those walking with him to count the cost before they claimed to be disciples.

His words were not meant to discourage but to awaken. He wanted them to understand that finishing with him would require more than admiration or momentary enthusiasm. It would require a reordering of life so deep that everything else—every relationship, every priority, even life itself—would take second place to him.

Jesus names three costs, and each one cuts to the heart of what it means to be a finisher.

First, we must value our relationship with Christ above every other relationship. Not because family is unimportant, but because no human bond can take the place of the One who gives life. When Christ is first, every other relationship finds its proper place. When Christ is not first, even the best relationships can become obstacles to obedience.

Second, we must be willing to sacrifice even our own lives if that is what finishing requires. Jesus is not glorifying suffering; he is clarifying allegiance. A disciple is someone who has already settled the question of ownership. Our lives belong to him. If following him leads through hardship, loss, or danger, we do not turn back. Finishers are not reckless, but they are resolved.

Third, we must take honest inventory of our lives. Jesus urges us to count the cost—not to scare us away, but to anchor us in reality. Finishing the course will take everything we have. It will demand perseverance, courage, humility, and daily surrender. But once we see the cost clearly, we can choose it freely. And those who choose it discover that the cost is real, but the reward is eternal.

Jesus finished his course alone so that we would never have to finish ours alone. He calls us to follow him all the way—not halfway, not until it becomes inconvenient, but to the end.

LORD, we have determined to follow you. Give us the courage to finish the course.

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the necessity of now

Posted on April 29, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-29

devotional post #2002

Luke 14:15-24

Luk 14:15 When one of Jesus’ fellow banqueters heard this, he said to him, “Everyone who will feast in the kingdom of God will enjoy this special advantage!”
Luk 14:16 But Jesus responded to him, “A man once gave a great banquet and invited many guests.
Luk 14:17 At the time for the banquet he sent his slave to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, because everything is now ready.’
Luk 14:18 But from the first they all began to make excuses. The first said to him, ‘I have bought a field, and I have to go out and see it. Please excuse me.’
Luk 14:19 Another said, ‘I have bought a team of five oxen, and I am going out to examine them. Please excuse me.’
Luk 14:20 Another said, ‘I just got married, and I cannot come.’
Luk 14:21 So the slave came back and reported this to his master. Then the master of the household was enraged and said to his slave, ‘Go out quickly to the streets and alleys of the city, and bring in the poor ones, the crippled ones, the blind ones, and the lame ones.’
Luk 14:22 Then the slave said, ‘Sir, what you instructed has been done, and there is still room.’
Luk 14:23 So the master said to his slave, ‘Go out to the highways and back roads and urge people to come in, so that my house will be filled.
Luk 14:24 Because I tell you, not one of those individuals who were invited will taste my banquet!'”

the necessity of now

That unnamed voice at the table sounded pious, even enthusiastic. He spoke of the great feast in God’s future kingdom—a beautiful truth, a hope worth celebrating. But his timing was off. He was so focused on the then that he was blind to the now. He could talk about the glory of the coming banquet, but he was missing the urgency of the present invitation. Jesus heard the disconnect immediately, so he told a parable designed to expose it.

In the story, the invited guests all claimed to value their relationship with the master of the banquet. If you had asked any of them, they would have insisted that they fully intended to attend the feast. They would have spoken warmly of the host, praised the honor of being invited, and affirmed their desire to be part of the celebration. Just not today. Not right now. Not when life was busy, when fields needed inspecting, when oxen needed testing, when relationships needed tending. Their excuses were not hostile; they were simply convenient. But convenience is all it takes to miss the kingdom.

Jesus’ point is piercing: if there is no now, there will be no future. The kingdom is not something we drift into someday. It is something we enter today. The feast is not only a distant hope; it is a present invitation. And postponing the invitation—no matter how politely—is still rejecting it.

This is where the parable presses into our own lives. Many of us long for the eternal “then”—the restoration, the joy, the feast, the presence of God made visible. That longing is good. But Jesus warns that longing for the future without responding in the present is spiritually dangerous. The kingdom is not merely something we anticipate; it is something we participate in. It is tasted now, lived now, embraced now. The joy of the future feast is meant to spill into our daily lives—into our worship, our relationships, our generosity, our obedience, our love.

Jesus invites us to a vibrant, growing enjoyment of his kingdom today. Not someday when life slows down. Not someday when we feel more ready. Not someday when circumstances align. Today. Because the God who prepares the feast is also the God who calls us to the table now.

LORD, we long for your eternal “then,” but give us an ever‑growing, vibrant enjoyment of your kingdom right now.

Posted in discipleship, eternal life, kingdom of God, relationship with God, second coming | Tagged | Leave a comment

because they cannot repay

Posted on April 28, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-28

devotional post # 2001

Luke 14:12-14

Luk 14:12 He said also to the man who had invited him, “When you host a luncheon or a dinner, don’t invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours so you can be invited by them in return and get compensated.
Luk 14:13 But when you host a banquet, invite the poor ones, the crippled ones, the lame ones, and the blind ones.
Luk 14:14 Then you will enjoy a special advantage, because they cannot repay you, because you will be repaid when the righteous ones will be raised.”

because they cannot repay

Jesus’ words here are not simply a moral nudge toward generosity; they are a revelation of how the kingdom of God actually works. He speaks directly to those who have resources, influence, and comfort—people who, in the normal flow of life, would use their advantages to secure even more advantages. That is the logic of the world: invest in those who can pay you back, build relationships that benefit you, and use your wealth to strengthen your future.

But Jesus turns that logic upside down. He urges the privileged to invest in those who cannot repay them—the poor, the hurting, the overlooked, the ones society treats as burdens rather than opportunities. He tells them that generosity toward the needy is not a loss but a kingdom investment, one that will yield its return not in earthly profit but at the resurrection, when God himself rewards what others never noticed.

In a sense, this teaching prepares the ground for what Jesus will soon say about responding to God’s invitation without delay. Before he warns about the danger of postponing the kingdom, he exposes the subtle ways people postpone love. Some of his listeners were so busy building their future—so consumed with securing their own comfort—that they had no time to care for the suffering right in front of them. They were planning for tomorrow while ignoring the needs of today.

Jesus reframes the needy not as interruptions but as blessings. They are opportunities for grace to flow through us. They are invitations to participate in God’s generosity. They are reminders that the kingdom is not built by self‑preservation but by self‑giving love. And when we respond to them, we are not merely doing charity; we are aligning ourselves with the heart of God.

This is why the gospel must offer freedom for all. If it only frees the privileged, it is not the gospel. If it only blesses those who can give something back, it is not grace. The kingdom Jesus proclaims is wide enough, deep enough, and strong enough to lift the lowly and to call the wealthy into a new kind of life—one marked by open hands, open hearts, and open tables.

Generosity is not an optional add‑on to faith. It is the natural overflow of a life that has been set free.

LORD, give us the wisdom to be generous toward those who need it, as an act of love reflecting our relationship with you.

Posted in discipleship, giving | Tagged | Leave a comment

least significant

Posted on April 27, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-27

devotional post #2000

Luke 14:7-11

Luk 14:7 Then when Jesus noticed how the guests chose the more significant places, he told them an illustration. He said to them,
Luk 14:8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not take the more significant place, because a person more highly regarded than you may have been invited by your host.
Luk 14:9 So the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this man your place.’ Then, embarrassed, you will begin to move to the least significant place.
Luk 14:10 But when you are invited, go and take the least significant place, so that when your host comes near you, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up here to a better place.’ Then you will be honoured in the presence of everyone who shares the meal with you.
Luk 14:11 Because everyone who lifts himself up will be levelled off, but the one who levels off himself will be lifted up.”

least significant

Jesus is not praising self‑deprecation for its own sake. He is not asking people to think poorly of themselves or to cultivate a false humility. His instruction has a deeply gospel‑shaped purpose. He had already lamented that his generation thought too highly of themselves to receive his love or enter his kingdom. They wanted the places of honor. They wanted to be first. They wanted to be recognized, respected, and affirmed. The Pharisees embodied this posture—they positioned themselves at the top and expected others to adjust around them.

But Jesus teaches that the kingdom of God works in the opposite direction. You cannot enter it by climbing. You enter it by lowering yourself. You begin at the entry‑level position—not because God wants to diminish you, but because humility creates the space where grace can actually take root. When you choose the lowest place, everyone around you becomes someone you can serve. Everyone becomes someone you can honor. Everyone becomes someone you can show Christ’s sacrificial love to.

This is the heart of Jesus’ instruction: humility is not about shrinking; it is about opening. It opens your life to God’s transforming grace. It opens your heart to the needs of others. It opens your hands to serve rather than compete. And in the kingdom, those who start low are lifted high—not by their own effort, but by God’s delight in raising up the humble.

Jesus is not asking us to pretend we are nothing. He is inviting us to live in a way that reflects the very shape of the gospel. Christ himself took the lowest place—born in obscurity, serving the broken, washing feet, dying a criminal’s death. And because he went low, God exalted him. When we follow that pattern, we are not diminishing ourselves; we are aligning ourselves with the very life of Christ.

So when Jesus tells us to take the lowest seat, he is not restricting us. He is freeing us. He is freeing us from the exhausting need to prove ourselves, defend ourselves, or elevate ourselves. He is freeing us to love boldly, serve joyfully, and trust God completely.

LORD, we are willing to start low, because we are aiming high for you.

Posted in discipleship, evangelism, gospel, humility | Tagged | Leave a comment

freedom for all

Posted on April 26, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-26

devotional post #1,999

Luke 14:1-6

Luk 14:1 Something else happened one Sabbath when Jesus went to eat bread at the house of a ruler from the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully.
Luk 14:2 Notice this man right in front of him suffering from dropsy.
Luk 14:3 So Jesus asked the experts in religious law and the Pharisees, “Is it allowed to heal on the Sabbath or not?”
Luk 14:4 But they remained quiet. So Jesus took hold of the man, healed him, and sent him away.
Luk 14:5 Then he said to them, “Which of you, if you have a son or an ox that has fallen into a well on a Sabbath day, will not immediately pull him out?”
Luk 14:6 But they could not respond to that.

freedom for all

The Sabbath was meant to be a weekly celebration of liberation—a joyful reminder that an entire nation of former slaves had been set free by the mercy and power of God. It was a day to rest, to breathe, to remember that their identity was no longer defined by Pharaoh’s demands but by the Lord’s deliverance. In its original design, the Sabbath was a declaration of freedom: We are no longer owned by anyone but God, and God gives rest.

But by the time Jesus walked into that synagogue, the Pharisees had turned that celebration into a new kind of bondage. They had built layer upon layer of tradition, rules so rigid that compassion itself became a violation. A man stood suffering right in front of them, and they felt no urgency to help him. Their devotion to their system outweighed their concern for a human being made in God’s image. Jesus’ question—“Wouldn’t you rescue your own son or even your ox on the Sabbath?”—exposed the truth. They were not protecting holiness; they were protecting their traditions. They felt no affinity with the sufferer, so they felt no responsibility toward him.

Jesus’ healing shattered their framework. He restored the man not only to health but to dignity, and in doing so he restored the Sabbath to its true purpose. The day meant to celebrate freedom had been twisted into a burden, but Jesus reclaimed it as a sign of God’s liberating grace. He showed that the gospel does not offer selective freedom—freedom for some, freedom only under certain conditions, freedom only when it fits the rules. The gospel offers freedom for all, or it is not freedom at all.

This story presses into our own lives as well. It is possible to become so attached to our habits, our expectations, our religious routines, or our cultural assumptions that we miss the suffering right in front of us. It is possible to defend our structures while neglecting the people those structures were meant to serve. Jesus calls us back to the heart of God—a heart that sets people free, restores the broken, and refuses to let tradition overshadow compassion.

We celebrate our freedom not just one day a week but every day, because Christ has set us free fully and forever. And that freedom is not meant to be hoarded. It is meant to be shared, extended, embodied, and offered to those still living under burdens they were never meant to carry.

LORD, we celebrate our freedom every day, and seek opportunities to bring others into that freedom.

Posted in compassion, consideration of others, deliverance, freedom, Sabbath | Tagged | Leave a comment

embracing Jesus’ love

Posted on April 25, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-25

devotional post #1,998

Luke 13:34-35

Luk 13:34 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those who are sent to you! How often I have longed to gather your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you would have none of it!
Luk 13:35 Notice, your house is forsaken! And I tell you, you will not see me until you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!'”

embracing Jesus’ love

Jesus’ image of himself as a mother hen is one of the most tender and surprising metaphors in all the Gospels. He does not compare himself to a warrior, a lion, or a king issuing commands. He compares himself to a hen—vulnerable, nurturing, fiercely protective. A hen gathers her chicks not by force but by love. She spreads her wings, calls out, and offers a shelter that can withstand whatever danger approaches. Under her wings, the weak are safe, the frightened are calmed, and the scattered are gathered into one secure place.

But in Jesus’ lament, the tragedy is not the danger itself—it is the refusal of the chicks. They scatter instead of coming close. They run toward their own ideas of safety, unaware that their independence leaves them exposed. The result is a “forsaken house,” a life without the covering they desperately need. Jesus is not angry; he is heartbroken. His cry, “How often I wanted to gather you,” reveals a long history of divine longing—a God who has been calling, inviting, protecting, and pursuing his people for generations.

And yet, he honors their refusal. He lets them walk away, even though it breaks his heart. Their house remains desolate not because he abandoned them, but because they would not come under his wings. Still, Jesus does not end with despair. He points to a future moment when they will finally recognize him for who he is—the Messiah who comes in the name of the Lord. The door of mercy remains open. The wings remain outstretched. The invitation still stands.

This image speaks powerfully into our own lives. We often imagine strength as self‑reliance, scattering in every direction trying to secure our own safety, our own identity, our own future. But Jesus reminds us that true security is found not in running but in returning. Not in independence but in surrender. Not in our plans but under his wings. And once we have experienced that shelter, we are called to help others find it—to draw them toward the One who longs to gather them, protect them, and give them life.

LORD, we embrace your love and protection, and seek to draw others to you.

Posted in discipleship, ethnic Israel, gospel, Jesus Christ | Tagged | Leave a comment

God’s plan, not Herod’s

Posted on April 24, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-24

devotional post #1,997

Luke 13:31-33

Luk 13:31 At that time, some Pharisees came up and said to Jesus, “Escape from here, because Herod wants to kill you.”
Luk 13:32 But he said to them, “Go and tell that fox, ‘Look, I am expelling demons and performing healings today and tomorrow, and by the third day I will complete my work.
Luk 13:33 Nevertheless I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the next day, because it is impossible that a prophet should be killed outside Jerusalem.’

God’s plan, not Herod’s

Jesus’ exchange with the Pharisees in this passage is a masterclass in holy defiance. They approach him with a warning—whether sincere or manipulative, we cannot be sure—telling him that Herod wants him dead and that he should leave immediately. On the surface, it sounds like concern. But Jesus hears the deeper tone: an attempt to steer him, to pressure him, to make him adjust his mission according to someone else’s agenda.

His response is stunning. He tells them to go—“Go and tell that fox…”—and then declares that he will continue driving out demons and healing the broken “today and tomorrow,” and that “on the third day” his work will reach its completion. He is not running. He is not adjusting. He is not intimidated. He is announcing that his timetable is set by God alone.

Then, in the very next breath, he says that he will go on his way—but not because Herod wants him gone. He will go because “it is not possible for a prophet to perish outside Jerusalem.” In other words, he is not being chased out; he is walking forward. He is not fleeing danger; he is fulfilling destiny. He is not bending to political pressure; he is following divine purpose.

This is the heart of the commentary you quoted: Jesus does what the Pharisees urge him to do, but not for their reasons and not on their terms. His movements are not reactive. They are purposeful. He is not a victim of Herod’s schemes; he is the servant of the Father’s plan. Every step he takes is shaped by obedience, not fear.

And that raises the piercing question you asked: Whose plan are we living by?

Most of us feel the pull of other people’s expectations—family pressures, cultural norms, workplace demands, religious traditions, even our own fears and insecurities. It is easy to drift into a life shaped more by reaction than by calling. But Jesus shows us a different way. He shows us what it looks like to live with clarity, courage, and conviction—to move through the world guided by God’s purpose rather than anyone else’s agenda.

The invitation is not to recklessness but to alignment. Not to stubbornness but to obedience. Not to self‑direction but to Spirit‑direction. The question is not whether we have a plan, but whether our plan is God’s.

LORD, show us your plan for our lives, and give us courage to follow it, no matter who says otherwise.

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wide enough

Posted on April 23, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-23

devotional post #1,996

Luke 13:28-30

Luk 13:28 There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God but you yourselves thrown out.
Luk 13:29 Then people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and take their places at the banquet table in the kingdom of God.
Luk 13:30 But indeed, some who are last now who will be first then, and some are first now who will be last then.”

wide enough

The wider‑hope theory grows out of a compassionate instinct. When we look at the sheer number of people who have never heard the gospel, it feels almost unbearable to imagine that so many could be lost. So some theologians propose that Jesus must save at least a portion of them apart from their understanding or acknowledgment of the good news. They argue that God’s mercy must somehow override the absence of evangelism.

But Jesus’ teaching in this passage pushes us in a different direction. Instead of suggesting that God will bypass the gospel, he shows that God’s heart for the unreached is expressed in a far more demanding way: he sends us. The solution to the world’s spiritual need is not a hidden back door into the kingdom; it is a global mission. God cares deeply about the nations, so deeply that he commands his people to go to the ends of the earth, crossing borders, cultures, and languages to proclaim deliverance through his Son. The urgency of mission is not diminished by Jesus’ words—it is intensified.

Jesus also warns his own generation, the very people who saw him with their own eyes, heard his voice, and witnessed his miracles. They had every advantage, every opportunity, every reason to believe. Yet many of them refused. They were first in line historically, but they rejected the invitation. And Jesus says that on the day of his return, the great reversal will be unmistakable: people from every nation—those who were last to hear, last to see, last to receive the gospel—will enter the kingdom with joy, while many who were first will look on with regret and shame.

This is not a statement of exclusion but of divine fairness. God does not judge people for where they were born or what they did not know. He judges them for rejecting the light they did receive. And he sends his people to carry that light to those who have not yet seen it.

The hope we have in Jesus Christ is not narrow. It is gloriously wide—wide enough to embrace the nations, wide enough to welcome all who believe, wide enough to reach the ends of the earth. But it is not so wide that it bypasses the gospel itself. The door is open, but it is still a door.

LORD, thank you for the hope we have in Jesus Christ. It is wide enough.

Posted in deliverance, evangelism, hope, missions, second coming | Tagged | Leave a comment

knowing all about Jesus

Posted on April 22, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-22

devotional post #1,995

Luke 13:25-27

Luk 13: 25 Once the head of the house gets up and shuts the door, then you will be standing outside and knocking on the door and begging him, ‘Lord, let us in!’ But he will respond to you, ‘I don’t know where you come from.’
Luk 13:26 Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’
Luk 13:27 But he will respond, ‘I don’t know where you come from! Go away from me, all you wrongdoers!’

knowing all about Jesus

Some people in the crowds around Jesus had remarkable access to him. They heard his teaching firsthand. They watched his miracles unfold in real time. Some even sat at the same tables, shared meals, and enjoyed the same gatherings. They were close enough to see the light of the kingdom breaking in, close enough to taste its goodness. And yet, they remained uncommitted. They admired Jesus without trusting him. They were familiar with him without surrendering to him. They stayed near the door but never walked through it.

Jesus’ warning to such people is sobering. On the day when all things are revealed, he says that mere familiarity will not count for anything. Knowing about him is not the same as belonging to him. Being around the things of God is not the same as being known by God. Those who never entrusted themselves to him—no matter how much they observed, learned, or appreciated—will find that the relationship they assumed existed never actually began. The tragedy is not that they were hostile; it is that they were indifferent. They hovered near the kingdom but never entered it.

This is where Jesus’ words press into our own lives. The question he raises is not how much information we possess, how many sermons we’ve heard, or how many Christian environments we’ve been part of. The real question is relational: does Jesus know us? Have we entrusted ourselves to him? Have we crossed the threshold from admiration to allegiance, from interest to surrender, from proximity to belonging?

Many of us build walls without realizing it—walls of hesitation, fear, pride, or self‑protection. We tell ourselves we will commit “someday,” when life settles down or when we feel more ready. But Jesus’ warning is meant to break through those illusions. The door is open now. The invitation is real now. And the relationship he offers is not partial or tentative; it is wholehearted, mutual, and life‑giving.

Jesus is not looking for perfect people. He is looking for people who will trust him. People who will let themselves be known. People who will step fully into the life he offers.

LORD, break the walls that keep us from committing to you 100%.

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narrow door, or wider hope

Posted on April 21, 2017 by Jefferson Vann
marmsky-devotions-pics-april-2017-21

devotional post #1,994

Luke 13:22-24

Luk 13: 22 Then Jesus travelled throughout towns and villages, all the while teaching and making his way toward Jerusalem.
Luk 13: 23 Someone asked him, “Lord, will only a few be saved?” So he said to them,
Luk 13: 24 “You should make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to.

narrow door, or wider hope?

When we wrestle with the reality that so many people remain unevangelised, it is natural to hope for some kind of loophole. Many theologians have tried to articulate that hope by proposing a “wider hope”—the idea that Jesus might save some who never embraced the gospel simply because of his compassion. The instinct behind that theory is understandable. We feel the weight of lostness. We ache over the billions who have not yet heard. We long for God’s mercy to reach further than human failure has allowed.

But when we listen carefully to Jesus, especially in passages like the one you’re reflecting on, the wider‑hope theory becomes difficult to sustain. Jesus does not describe the kingdom as a place with multiple entrances or alternative paths. He speaks of a single door—and he identifies himself as that door. He also warns that many will seek to enter after the door has been shut, only to discover that the opportunity they assumed would always be available has passed. His words are not harsh; they are urgent. They are meant to awaken, not to condemn.

This is where the tension becomes personal. You and I both know many “good people”—kind, moral, generous, thoughtful—who know the facts of the gospel but remain outside its life. They admire Jesus but do not trust him. They appreciate Christian ethics but do not surrender to his lordship. They stand near the door, but they do not enter. Everything in us wants to believe that their goodness will be enough, that Jesus will wave them in because they meant well. But Jesus never points us in that direction. He consistently calls people to faith, not to decency. He offers salvation, not as a reward for goodness, but as a gift received only by trusting him.

This is not meant to crush hope; it is meant to clarify it. The hope of the world is not that God will relax the terms of salvation. The hope of the world is that the door is still open now. The invitation still stands. Grace is still extended. And the people we love—those “good people” who hover near the threshold—can still step inside.

That is why our calling matters so deeply. We are not salespeople for a religious system; we are guides pointing to the only door that leads to life. We cannot walk through it for anyone, but we can make sure they know where it is and why it matters.

LORD, show us how to show others the door, because they need to enter it before it is too late.

Posted in eternal life, evangelism, gospel, grace | Tagged | Leave a comment