staying with him in tough times

july-3

devotional post # 2

Luk 22:28 “You are those who have stayed with me in my tough times,
Luk 22:29 and I am assigning to you, as my Father assigned to me, a kingdom,
Luk 22:30 so that you will be able to eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.

staying with him in tough times

For some time now, I have been studying what the Bible says about tough times, and the more I read, the more I realize how deeply Scripture prepares me for seasons like the one I’m in. I’ve been walking through a stretch of negative experiences—disappointments, pressures, uncertainties—and I keep asking the Lord how I should respond. I don’t want to react out of frustration or fear. I want to understand what faithfulness looks like when life feels heavy.

As I sit with today’s text, I’m struck again by the truth that tough times are not an interruption to the Christian life; they are woven into it. Jesus never promised me a smooth path. He promised me His presence, His strength, and His victory—but He also promised tribulation. The early believers didn’t treat hardship as something strange. They expected it. They understood that following Christ in a broken world would mean walking through seasons of loss, pressure, and pain. And I’m beginning to see that more clearly in my own life. These difficulties aren’t signs that something has gone wrong with my faith. They’re reminders that I’m walking the same road He walked.

But there’s another truth in this passage that humbles me even more: in some mysterious way, my eternal status—my future honor in Christ’s kingdom—is connected to my willingness to stay faithful during these tough times. Not that I earn salvation by endurance, but that endurance reveals the depth of my devotion. Every moment I choose to trust Him instead of giving up, every time I cling to His promises instead of collapsing into despair, every act of obedience done in weakness—He sees it. He remembers it. And He values it.

This means my suffering is not wasted. My perseverance is not unnoticed. My tears are not forgotten. The way I respond to hardship becomes part of my eternal story with Christ. That gives weight to my choices. It gives meaning to my struggles. It gives purpose to my pain.

So I pray that in these difficult days, I won’t lose sight of what matters most. I want to honor Him—not just when life is easy, but especially when it is not. I want my faith to shine most clearly when the night is darkest. I want to be found faithful, because He has been faithful to me.

LORD, help us to honor You by being faithful during our tough times.

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courage and faith

Oct 2017 (26)

devotional post # 2181

2 Corinthians 7:2-4

2Co 7:2 Find room in your hearts for us. We have wronged no one, we have corrupted no one, we have taken advantage of no one.
2Co 7:3 I am not saying this to condemn you, because I said before that you are in our hearts, dying together and living together.
2Co 7:4 I am showing a great deal of courage toward you; I have a great deal of pride in you; I am filled with encouragement. Despite all our suffering, I am overflowing with joy.

courage and faith

Paul and his team had been rejected by those they were responsible for bringing into the kingdom. Rejection hurts. Betrayal hurts. But Paul has chosen not to condemn and reject the Corinthians in retaliation. Instead, he has chosen to forgive them, and plead for reconciliation. Having done this, his faith led him to be encouraged and joyful. He knows that God can bring about unity even where Satan has caused great opposition. He knows that those who followed him to Christ can follow him once again.

LORD, give us the courage to keep asking for reconciliation, and the faith to expect it.

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helping without hurting

marmsky devotions pics November 2017 (3)devotional post # 2189

2 Corinthians 8:12-15

2Co 8:12 Because if the willingness is there, it is acceptable based on what a person has, not based on what he does not have.
2Co 8:13 Because I do not mean that others should be relieved and you burdened, instead, that as a matter of fairness
2Co 8:14 your abundance at the present time should supply their need, so that their abundance may later supply your need, that there may be fairness.
2Co 8:15 Like what is written, “Whoever gathered a lot had nothing left over, and whoever gathered a little had no lack.”

helping without hurting

Paul and his co‑workers carried a responsibility that required both pastoral sensitivity and practical wisdom. They were entrusted with gathering relief funds for believers in other regions who were facing severe hardship. When Paul spoke to the Corinthians about this effort, he framed it not as a burdensome obligation but as an act of balance within the body of Christ. At that moment, the Corinthians enjoyed relative prosperity, while others were struggling. The goal was simply to allow abundance in one place to meet need in another, so that the church as a whole might flourish together rather than unevenly.

Paul made it clear that this collection was never intended to become a permanent tax or a recurring levy. He did not want the Corinthians to imagine that they were being enrolled in a long‑term financial program or that their generosity was being monitored as a test of spiritual sincerity. The offering was tied to a specific crisis, not to an ongoing expectation. Paul understood how easily giving can become distorted when it shifts from voluntary compassion to compulsory ritual. He wanted the Corinthians to give freely, not under pressure or suspicion.

He also reminded them that circumstances can change. Today they had plenty, but tomorrow they might be the ones in need. The rhythm of Christian generosity moves back and forth across the church as situations rise and fall. No group is permanently wealthy or permanently poor. By participating in the relief effort now, the Corinthians were strengthening the very system that might one day sustain them. Mutual care is not a one‑directional flow but a shared commitment to support one another as life unfolds.

Paul’s caution about indiscriminate giving shows his pastoral realism. Not every request for help is wise to fulfill, and not every act of charity produces good fruit. Giving without discernment can create dependency, encourage irresponsibility, or even harm the very people one hopes to assist. Paul wanted the Corinthians to understand that generosity must be thoughtful, guided by genuine need and shaped by the larger good of the church. In this way, their offering would not only relieve suffering but also build up the community in a healthy and sustainable way.

Through this balanced approach, Paul taught that generosity is an expression of love, not a mechanism of control, and that wise giving reflects the character of Christ, who meets real needs without creating burdens that hinder rather than heal.

LORD, show us how to help others in need without hurting them by creating long-term dependence.

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towel leadership

july-2

devotional post # 2065

Luke 22:24-27

Luk 22:24 But an argument also happened among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest.
Luk 22:25 And he said to them, “The kings among the Gentiles exercise control over them, although those in authority over them are called good workers.
Luk 22:26 But it is not to be this way with you. Instead, let the greatest among you become as a newcomer, and the leader as one who serves.
Luk 22:27 Because who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am with you as the one who serves.

towel leadership

The shift in the room must have been jarring. One moment the disciples were asking who among them could possibly betray Jesus. The next moment they were arguing about who was the greatest. It’s a painfully human scene—fear turning into pride, insecurity turning into competition. And Jesus, with the patience of a true shepherd, redirects them once again to the heart of His kingdom.

He points to the Gentile rulers, the ones who loved titles like benefactoreuergetes, “good worker,” “public benefactor.” They enjoyed being praised for their leadership, but in reality they placed the weight of labor on the people beneath them. Their greatness was measured by how many served them.

Jesus turns that entire model upside down. He reminds His disciples that He Himself took the towel, knelt down, and washed their feet. The One who had every right to be served chose instead to serve. The One with all authority used that authority to bless, not to demand. He was not teaching leadership as the world defines it; He was teaching servanthood as heaven defines it.

In His kingdom, greatness is not measured by how many people follow you, but by how many people you lift up. Influence is not about being recognized, but about quietly pouring yourself out. Authority is not about control, but about compassion. Jesus did not merely talk about servanthood—He embodied it. He taught it by doing it.

And that is the invitation He extends to us. We teach servanthood not by lecturing about humility, but by living it. By taking the towel. By choosing the lower place. By doing the unseen work. By loving in ways that cost us something. When we serve, we reflect the heart of the One who served us to the very end.

LORD, may we follow Your example and teach servanthood by serving.

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traitors at the table

july-1

devotional post #2064

Luke 22:21-23

Luk 22:21 But notice, the hand of him who betrays me is with me at this table.
Luk 22:22 Because the Son of Man goes as it has been determined, but tragedy will come to that man by whom he is betrayed!”
Luk 22:23 And they began to question one another, wondering who of them it could be who was going to do this.

traitors at the table

Barclay’s observation stings precisely because it is true. The tragedy of that first communion table was not only that Jesus was hours away from betrayal and death, but that a betrayer was sitting at the table while the symbols of grace were being given. Judas shared the bread and the cup with the very One he had already sold. The hypocrisy was breathtaking. The outward act of fellowship hid an inward act of treachery.

Barclay presses that truth into our own lives. Every time believers gather at the Lord’s Table, we pledge ourselves again to Christ. We remember His sacrifice. We affirm our loyalty. But if we walk away from that table and live in ways that deny Him—through compromise, dishonesty, unfaithfulness, or hidden sin—then we reenact Judas’ tragedy in miniature. We betray Him not with a kiss, but with a life that contradicts our confession.

This is not meant to crush us, but to sober us. Communion is not only a reminder of Christ’s faithfulness; it is a call to our own. It invites us to examine our hearts, to align our lives with our words, to let the grace we receive shape the obedience we offer. The Lord’s Table is a place of forgiveness, but it is also a place of truth. It exposes duplicity and invites integrity. It calls us to be the same person in private that we appear to be in worship.

The good news is that Christ does not ask for perfection—He asks for sincerity. He asks for a heart that genuinely wants to follow Him, even if imperfectly. He asks for loyalty that is real, not flawless. And He gives the grace that makes such loyalty possible.

LORD, may our loyalty to You never be questioned.

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broken and poured out

marmsky-devotions-pics-june-2017-30

devotional post # 2063

Luke 22:19-20

Luk 22:19 And he took bread, and after he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, and this is what he said, “This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
Luk 22:20 And he took the cup,in the same way, after they had eaten, and this is what he said, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant made at the cost of my blood.

broken and poured out

When Jesus took the Passover bread into His hands, He didn’t simply bless it—He broke it. And when He lifted the cup, He didn’t merely pass it around—He poured it out. These actions were not accidental. They were deliberate, prophetic gestures. He was showing His disciples, in physical form, what would soon happen to Him.

The bread was whole one moment and torn apart the next. His body would soon experience the same. He would be struck, pierced, crushed, and handed over to death. The cup was full one moment and emptied the next. His blood would soon be poured out, not in part but completely, until nothing remained. In these simple actions, Jesus revealed the heart of the atonement: an exchange.

His brokenness for our wholeness.
His wounds for our healing.
His emptiness for our fullness.
His death for our life.

The disciples could not yet grasp the depth of what they were seeing. But Jesus was giving them a picture they would return to again and again—a picture that would shape their understanding of the cross. The bread and the cup were not just symbols; they were a window into the mystery of salvation. They showed that the cost of our redemption was not theoretical. It was physical. It was bloody. It was personal.

And yet, it was also voluntary. Jesus broke the bread; no one snatched it from Him. He poured the cup; no one forced His hand. He laid down His life of His own accord. The breaking and the pouring were acts of love, not defeat. They were the means by which God would make sinners whole and fill empty souls with eternal life.

Every time we take the bread and the cup, we remember that the wholeness we enjoy came at the price of His brokenness. The fullness we experience came from His self‑emptying. The life we live came from His death. The atonement is not an abstract doctrine—it is the story of a Savior who allowed Himself to be broken so that we could be restored.

LORD, praise You for Your atoning sacrifice!

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missing at the table

marmsky-devotions-pics-june-2017-29

devotional post # 2062

Luke 22:14-18

Luk 22:14 And when the hour came, he reclined at table, and the apostles joined him.
Luk 22:15 And he said to them, “with all my heart I have wanted to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.
Luk 22:16 Because I am telling you I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.”
Luk 22:17 And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he said, “Take this, and divide it among yourselves.
Luk 22:18 Because I am telling you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”

missing at the table

Before Jesus explained the meaning of the bread and the cup—before He spoke the words that would shape Christian worship for centuries—He first told His disciples that the next time they shared this meal, someone would be missing. Judas was still sitting at the table that night, still dipping his hand in the same bowl, still wearing the mask of a disciple. But Jesus knew that Judas would not be there the next time. His betrayal would drive him to despair, and his life would end before another Passover came.

But Judas was not the only one who would be absent. In a deeper and more profound sense, Jesus Himself would be missing from the table. The meal was about Him—His body, His blood, His sacrifice—yet He would not be physically present at future celebrations. The symbols He gave were not only reminders of His saving work; they were reminders of His absence. Every time believers break the bread and lift the cup, they proclaim His death until He comes. Communion is both remembrance and longing. It looks back to the cross and forward to the kingdom. It celebrates what He has done and aches for His return.

The upper room was filled with His presence, but every communion table since then has carried a quiet emptiness—a space where the Host Himself is not yet seated. The bread tells us He died. The cup tells us He saves. But the empty chair tells us He is not yet here in the fullness of His glory. The meal is a promise as much as it is a memory. It whispers that the story is not finished, that the King is coming back, that the table will one day be full again.

And so, every time we gather, we feel the tension: gratitude for His sacrifice, longing for His return. The symbols point us to a Savior who gave everything for us and who will one day gather us into His presence forever.

LORD, thank You for the promise of Your presence with us again, when You return.

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prearranged signal

marmsky-devotions-pics-june-2017-28

devotional post # 2061

Luke 22:7-13

Luk 22:7 Then came the day of Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed.
Luk 22:8 So Jesus dispatched Peter and John, saying, “Go and set up the Passover for us, that we may eat it.”
Luk 22:9 They said to him, “Where do you want us to set it up?”
Luk 22:10 He said to them, “Notice, after you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him into the house that he enters
Luk 22:11 and tell the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says to you, Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’
Luk 22:12 And he will show you a large upper room furnished; set it up there.”
Luk 22:13 And they went away and found it just as he had told them, and they set up the Passover.

prearranged signal

Some interpreters say the man carrying a water jar must have been a secret signal because men typically didn’t carry jars—women did. But that may be reading too much into the detail. This man wasn’t the master of the house; he was a servant. Servants often did whatever task was needed, even if it wasn’t culturally typical. Whether or not it was unusual, the point is clear: Jesus knew exactly where this man would be, what he would be carrying, which house he served in, and which room was prepared. The whole moment was arranged—quietly, precisely, intentionally.

Jesus wasn’t improvising His way through the final week. He was moving through a series of divine appointments. The disciples thought they were simply following instructions, but they were stepping into a plan that had been set long before they asked the question. The man with the jar, the house, the upper room—all of it was already known to Christ.

And that is often how it works when we serve our King. He places us in situations where the timing is too perfect, the details too aligned, the coincidences too pointed to be random. We walk into a conversation we didn’t expect, meet a person we didn’t plan to meet, receive provision we didn’t anticipate, or find a door open that should have been shut. Only later do we realize: He arranged this. He knew. He prepared the way before we arrived.

Those moments don’t happen constantly, but when they do, they strengthen us. They remind us that we are not wandering through life alone. They reassure us that Christ is not distant or unaware. They whisper that His omniscience is not abstract theology—it is personal care. And those little glimpses of His sovereignty help carry us through the seasons when we wonder whether our work matters, whether our prayers are heard, whether our steps are guided.

He knows the man with the jar.
He knows the house.
He knows the room.
And He knows exactly where you are, what you need, and what He is preparing for you next.

LORD, thank You for those times when we recognize how aware You are of what is happening in our lives.

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quiet betrayal

marmsky-devotions-pics-june-2017-27

devotional post # 2060

Luke 22:3-6

Luk 22:3 Then Satan entered into Judas (the one called Iscariot), who was of the number of the twelve.
Luk 22:4 He went away and discussed with the chief priests and captains how he might betray him to them.
Luk 22:5 And they were glad, and decided to give him silver.
Luk 22:6 So he promised and sought a right moment to betray him to them in the absence of a crowd.

quiet betrayal

Judas’ plan was not the dramatic, cinematic betrayal we often imagine. He didn’t storm out with a shout or confront Jesus with open hostility. His strategy was far more subtle—and far more painful. He slipped away quietly, made his arrangements with the enemies of Christ, and then returned to the group as if nothing had happened. He sat with them. He walked with them. He smiled with them. He blended back into the circle of trust while carrying a secret that would shatter it.

That is the kind of betrayal that cuts the deepest. It is not the enemy who wounds us most, but the friend who pretends. The smile that hides a dagger. The handshake that conceals a scheme. The familiar voice that masks a hardened heart. Judas’ betrayal was not only treachery—it was hypocrisy. He wore the face of loyalty while plotting destruction. He acted like a disciple while thinking like a traitor. Something had gone terribly wrong inside him long before the kiss in the garden.

And that is where the warning lies. Betrayal does not begin with the act; it begins with the heart. It begins when honesty is replaced with pretense, when devotion is replaced with resentment, when love is replaced with self‑interest. Judas teaches us that a person can look faithful on the outside while drifting far from Christ on the inside. The danger is not only in the dagger—it is in the smile that hides it.

But Judas also teaches us what we do not want to become. We want to be people whose outward actions match our inward devotion. People who are faithful in private as well as public. People who speak truthfully, love sincerely, and walk with Christ without duplicity. We want to be the kind of disciples who do not pretend, who do not hide secret agendas, who do not wear masks before God or others.

Faithfulness and honesty go together. Integrity is not perfection—it is consistency. It is the same heart in the light and in the dark. It is the refusal to let bitterness, disappointment, or temptation twist us into someone we were never meant to be.

LORD, show us how to be faithful and honest.

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two million witnesses

marmsky-devotions-pics-june-2017-26

devotional post # 2059

Luke 22:1-2

Luk 22:1 Now the festival of Unleavened Bread drew near, which is called the Passover.
Luk 22:2 And the chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put him to death, because they feared the people.

two million witnesses

Cestius’ census of Passover lambs is one of those historical details that suddenly makes the Gospels feel even more vivid. Two hundred fifty‑six thousand lambs—each one representing at least ten people—means Jerusalem was overflowing with more than two million worshipers. Every street, every courtyard, every rooftop would have been packed. Pilgrims from every corner of the Jewish world were there. The city was swollen with expectation, tradition, and national pride.

And in the middle of that massive crowd, the chief priests and scribes were plotting the death of Jesus. No wonder they feared the people. With that many witnesses, any misstep could spark a riot. Any wrong move could turn the crowds against them. They wanted Jesus dead, but they wanted it done quietly, safely, out of sight. Yet God had arranged it so that the most important event in human history—the death of His Son—would take place in front of a city filled to the brim. There would be no secrecy. No hidden corner. No private execution. The Lamb of God would die in the presence of multitudes gathered to sacrifice their own lambs.

It is a staggering contrast: hundreds of thousands of lambs being slain as symbols, and in their midst, the true Lamb of God preparing to offer Himself once for all. The people came to remember deliverance from Egypt, but God was about to accomplish a far greater deliverance—freedom from sin and death. The priests feared the crowds, but God wanted the crowds there. He wanted witnesses. He wanted the world to see.

And when we remember Christ’s death, we feel the weight of that moment. We feel shame because it was our sin that required such a sacrifice. We feel gratitude because He willingly became the Lamb in our place. The cross exposes us, but it also saves us. It humbles us, but it also lifts us up. It shows us the depth of our guilt and the greater depth of His love.

LORD, when we remember Christ’s death, we feel both shame and gratitude.

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