Devotions

inner conflict

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 6:14-20

¹⁴ King Herod heard about this, because Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised up from the dead ones; and for this reason these energies[1] are at work in him.” ¹⁵ But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” ¹⁶ But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.” ¹⁷ Because Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. ¹⁸ Because John had been telling Herod, “It is not proper for you to have your brother’s wife.” ¹⁹ And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, ²⁰ because Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he listened to him, he was seriously confused; but he still liked to listen to him.

inner conflict

Herod’s actions give us a window into the inner conflict that so many unsaved people live with every single day. He was trapped in a sinful life of his own making, yet he was still drawn to spiritual truth. He liked listening to John. He felt the pull of conviction. Something in him recognized the voice of God when he heard it. But he was also tangled in fear, lust, pride, and political pressure. He was interested in spiritual things, yet seriously confused and unable to commit to the truth that stood right in front of him. His heart was divided, and that division tore him apart.

This is not unusual. In fact, it is far more common than we think. When someone rejects the gospel, we often assume they do so with a clear conscience, as if they have calmly and confidently decided that Christ is not for them. But that is almost never the case. Most people who push the gospel away are not at peace. They are conflicted. They are restless. They are haunted by questions they cannot silence. They are drawn to the light even as they cling to the darkness. They are like Herod—fascinated, fearful, and spiritually torn.

So do not assume your neighbor is unreachable. Do not assume your coworker has made up her mind. Do not assume your family member is hardened beyond hope. The people who seem indifferent are often the ones wrestling the most. The ones who appear confident in their unbelief are often the ones lying awake at night, wondering if they are wrong. The ones who seem to have no interest in Christ may be the ones who feel His pull most deeply but are afraid of what obedience would cost them.

These people need Jesus—and deep down, they know it. They may not admit it. They may not show it. They may not even understand it. But the Spirit is at work in places we cannot see. The gospel is stirring in hearts that look cold on the surface. And our calling is not to judge who is reachable and who is not. Our calling is to keep sowing the seed, keep speaking the truth, keep living the gospel, and keep praying for the Spirit to break through.

Herod reminds us that the battle for the human heart is often invisible. And that is why we must not give up on those who seem far away. God has a way of reaching people who appear unreachable.

LORD, show us how to reach those who seem to have put themselves out of reach. Give us patience, compassion, and courage as we speak Your truth into conflicted hearts.

[1] ενεργεω

Posted in commitment, evangelism, witness | Tagged Mark 6 | Leave a comment

travelling light

Posted on September 22, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 6:7-13

⁷ He summoned the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them the right to deal with unclean spirits. ⁸ He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; ⁹ only to wear sandals but not to put on two tunics. ¹⁰ He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. ¹¹ If any place will not welcome^{^[1]} you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” ¹² So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. ¹³ They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.

travelling light

The instructions Jesus gave His apostles must always be read with an appreciation for their context. When we think about missions today—especially cross‑cultural missions—we naturally assume that preparation means resources. We train workers, raise support, secure housing, plan for transportation, and make sure they have everything they need to survive and serve in a place that is unfamiliar to them. That is wise. That is responsible. And in most cases, that is absolutely necessary.

But Jesus, in this moment, seems to advocate something very different. He tells His apostles to travel light—no bag, no extra tunic, no money, no backup plan. At first glance, it feels reckless. But the difference in strategy has everything to do with the difference in context. The apostles were not being sent across cultures. They were not entering foreign lands. They were not stepping into places where they would be strangers. They were being sent into familiar territory—villages that shared their customs, their language, their worldview, and their expectations of hospitality. They had every reason to expect that people would welcome them, feed them, and receive their message with openness. In that setting, traveling light was not a burden. It was the right strategy. It allowed them to move quickly, depend on God, and stay focused on the mission rather than the logistics.

There may be a word of wisdom here for us as we think about how we fund and support the ministries of our churches. Not all ministries require the same level of investment. Some efforts—especially those aimed at people who already share our culture, our language, and our values—may thrive with minimal resources because the soil is already soft. But other ministries, especially those that reach across cultural, economic, or social boundaries, may require far more support. They may need more preparation, more funding, more training, and more long‑term investment because the people they are trying to reach are not yet ready to support the work themselves.

Jesus’ instructions remind us that strategy matters. Stewardship matters. Context matters. And wisdom means recognizing that not all mission fields are the same. Some ministries can travel light. Others need a full supply line. And part of our calling as the church is to discern which is which—to invest generously where the ground is hard, and to equip lightly where the ground is already welcoming.

LORD, show us how to spread the excellent message strategically and efficiently. Teach us to discern where to invest deeply, where to travel light, and how to steward Your resources for the sake of Your kingdom.

[1] δεχομαι (6:11; 9:37; 10:15).

Posted in ministry, missions, money, wisdom | Tagged Mark 6 | Leave a comment

faithless fatherland

Posted on September 21, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 6:1-6

He left from there and came to his fatherland,[1] and his disciples followed him. ² On the Sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “From where did this man get all these teachings? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What works of power are being done by his hands! ³ Is not this the builder, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense[2] at him. ⁴ Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not dishonoured, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” ⁵ And he could do no work of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and healed them. ⁶ And he was amazed at their unbelief. Then he went about among the villages teaching.

faithless fatherland

So you say you’re “called” to stay in your hometown and minister to the people who have known you since childhood. That may be true. God certainly does call some to stay. But let’s be honest about how that often plays out. How’s that working out for you? Are you experiencing what Jesus Himself experienced—faithless fatherland syndrome? Because He did. The people who watched Him grow up, who knew His family, who heard the stories of His early years, recognized the wisdom in His teaching and the power in His miracles. They could not deny it. But it didn’t matter. Familiarity became their stumbling block. They were offended that someone so local could be used so greatly. They could accept life‑changing counsel from anyone except the hometown carpenter’s son.

And that’s the tension many hometown ministers feel. You may be called to stay, but staying is not easy. The people who know your past often struggle to receive your present. They remember your mistakes. They remember your immaturity. They remember your awkward teenage years. They remember the version of you that no longer exists. And sometimes, no matter how faithfully you serve, they simply cannot see beyond the old stories.

Now, I’ll admit something important. Most believers are not called to cross‑cultural ministry in distant lands. And I’ll also admit that changing your location does not magically change your character or grant you new spiritual power. That was certainly true for Jesus. His authority was absolute everywhere. His power was not limited by geography. He chose to respond to Nazareth’s unbelief with fewer displays of power, but He could have transformed the entire town against their will if He had desired. Their unbelief did not diminish His ability—only their experience of it.

And I cannot promise you that if you go overseas, you will suddenly have a powerful ministry. Geography does not guarantee fruitfulness. But that’s not the point. The point is that there is a whole world full of people who need the gospel. There are villages, towns, cities, and nations where people are longing for hope, where the soil is ready, where the harvest is waiting. And if your Nazareth refuses to listen—if your hometown cannot receive what God has placed in you—then perhaps it is time to consider the villages.

Jesus did. When Nazareth rejected Him, He did not stay and argue. He did not force His ministry on them. He did not let their unbelief define His calling. He simply moved on to the next towns, the next hearts, the next opportunities. And the gospel flourished there.

Sometimes obedience means staying. Sometimes obedience means going. But obedience never means clinging to a place simply because it is familiar. And it never means limiting your ministry to the expectations of people who cannot see what God is doing in you.

So if you feel the Spirit stirring you beyond your comfort zone—if you sense that your ministry zone lies somewhere outside the boundaries of your hometown—pay attention. The God who called you is the God who sends you. And He may be calling you to the villages.

LORD, speak to the heart of those You are calling outside their comfort zone, into their ministry zone. Teach us to hear Your voice above the voices of familiarity, and to follow wherever You lead.

[1] πατρις

[2] σκανδαλιζω

Posted in Jesus Christ, ministry, miracles, missions | Tagged Mark 6 | Leave a comment

miracles and ministry

Posted on September 20, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:40 – 43

⁴⁰ And they ridiculed him. But he threw them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and entered where the child was. ⁴¹ He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,”[1] which means, “Little girl, get up!” ⁴² And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years old). At this they were ecstatic.[2] ⁴³ He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

miracles and ministry

I’m struck with two thoughts about today’s reading as well, and both of them reveal something important about the way Jesus moves through a world full of noise, pain, and misunderstanding.

The first thing that stands out is the contrast in His tone. Jesus deals with the critical crowd in a way that feels almost abrupt—firm, unyielding, unwilling to entertain their cynicism. He puts them outside. He silences their laughter. He refuses to let their unbelief dominate the atmosphere. And yet, moments later, He turns toward the little girl and her grieving parents with a tenderness that feels almost whispered. He takes her by the hand. He speaks gently. He restores her quietly. The same Jesus who confronts the scoffers with strength comforts the broken with softness. Both attitudes are holy. Both are appropriate. Both reveal a Savior who knows exactly what each moment requires.

The second thing that strikes me is how carefully Jesus avoids letting the miracle become the message. If something like this happened in my family, I would want to tell everyone. I would want the world to know. I would want the miracle to be the headline. But Jesus resists that impulse. He tells them not to broadcast it. He refuses to let the extraordinary overshadow the essential. He knows that miracles can gather crowds, but only the gospel can save souls. He knows that signs can stir excitement, but only the message of the kingdom can transform a life. He knows that power can attract attention, but only truth can anchor faith.

And that is a needed reminder for us. Followers of Christ will experience manifestations of God’s power—answers to prayer, moments of healing, unexpected deliverance, divine intervention that leaves us speechless. But those moments, as beautiful as they are, must never eclipse the message. They are not the center. They are not the foundation. They are not the hope we proclaim. The gospel is the only message with eternal weight. The gospel is the only truth that rescues the soul. The gospel is the only proclamation that outlives every miracle.

The Holy Spirit’s ministry—healing, deliverance, guidance, empowerment—is real and precious. But it is never meant to replace the proclamation of Christ crucified and risen. Power accompanies the message, but it does not replace it. Power confirms the message, but it does not overshadow it. Power flows from the message, but it does not become the message.

There is power for ministry, yes. But the ministry of the excellent message must always come first and last. The gospel is the frame in which every miracle finds its meaning.

LORD, give us the courage to proclaim Your gospel, and the expectation that Your power will demonstrate its validity. Teach us to keep the message central, even as we rejoice in the works of Your mighty hand.

[1] טליתא קום

[2] εκστασις

Posted in gospel, ministry, miracles, spiritual gifts | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment

time to trust Jesus

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:35-39

³⁵ While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house saying, “Your daughter is dead. Why still annoy the teacher?” ³⁶ But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not be afraid, just trust me.” ³⁷ He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. ³⁸ When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw an uproar, people weeping and wailing loudly. ³⁹ When he had entered, he said to them, “Why are you disturbed and weep? The child is not dead but sleeps.”

time to trust Jesus

Facing the untimely death or terminal illness of someone we love does something inside us that words can barely touch. It feels like something breaks deep within—a fracture of the heart, a wound that never fully closes. The pain is sharp, but the sense of betrayal can be even sharper. Life was not supposed to work this way. Love was not supposed to end like this. And even when time softens the edges, there is a part of us that never returns to what it was before.

In moments like these, the Word of God becomes more than a text. It becomes a lifeline. It becomes the voice that steadies us when everything else is shaking. And in Jairus’ story, we see the kind of lessons Jesus offers to those who are walking through the valley of shadows.

Jairus learned that when death draws near, Jesus speaks a different word than fear. While the mourners wailed and the news crushed his spirit, Jesus looked him in the eye and said, “Do not fear. Only believe.” That is not a denial of reality. It is an invitation to trust a deeper reality. It is Jesus saying, “Let My presence interpret what you see, not the other way around.”

Jairus also learned that death, as final as it feels, is not final to Jesus. He calls it sleep—not because it is gentle, but because it is temporary. Sleep is something you wake from. Sleep is something you rise out of. And Jesus is the One whose voice will one day awaken every sleeper, calling each one by name. What looks like the end to us is only an intermission to Him.

These are not easy truths. They do not erase the ache. They do not undo the loss. But they give us something solid to hold when the world feels like it is collapsing. They remind us that Jesus does not abandon us in the darkest rooms of our lives. He steps into them. He speaks into them. He brings a calm assurance that does not come from explanations, but from His presence.

So when we face the horrible realities of life—when grief feels unbearable and hope feels thin—we cling to the words Jesus spoke to Jairus. Words that still carry power. Words that still steady trembling hearts. Words that still whisper life into places that feel dead.

LORD, thank You for Your words of calm assurance that we can hold on to when we face the horrible realities of life. Teach us to trust Your voice more than our fear, and to rest in the promise that death is not the end.

Posted in resurrection, sleep of death, trust | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment

your suffering is over

Posted on September 18, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:29-34

²⁹ Just then her haemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. ³⁰ Instantly aware that power had gone out from him, Jesus turned around in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” ³¹ But his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?'” ³² He looked all around to see who had done it. ³³ But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling,[1] fell down before him, and told him all of the truth. ³⁴ He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has rescued you; go in peace, and be made healthy; your suffering is over.”

your suffering is over

People we know are longing—aching—to be free from their suffering. They move from specialist to specialist, hoping the next appointment will finally bring relief. They try every new medication, every new therapy, every new promise of improvement. And yet many remain stuck in the same cycle of frustration, pain, and disappointment. Their bodies betray them. Their hopes rise and fall. Their faith feels stretched thin by the daily evidence that healing has not yet come.

And here is the question that quietly slips into our minds: Are such people worth our time? Should we interrupt our busy schedules, pause our own concerns, and pray for them with intention and compassion? The answer, of course, is yes—absolutely yes. These suffering ones are the Lord’s sons and daughters. They are not burdens. They are not interruptions. They are beloved image‑bearers who are fighting to hold onto faith while their bodies and circumstances seem to argue against it.

Their faith is not weak. It is costly. It is the kind of faith that wakes up every morning in pain and still whispers, “Lord, help me.” It is the kind of faith that keeps reaching for Jesus even when the healing has not yet arrived. It is the kind of faith that refuses to let suffering have the final word. And that kind of faith—faith in Jesus alone—can make them whole again, whether in body, in spirit, or in both.

But they should not have to fight alone. We are called to stand with them, to lift them up, to carry them into the presence of Jesus through our prayers. We need to be assisting these suffering saints in our war rooms, interceding for them with the same urgency and tenderness that Jesus showed to the sick woman and to Jairus’ daughter. Prayer is not a last resort. It is participation in the healing work of God. It is an act of love. It is an act of solidarity. It is an act of hope.

So today, we bring them before the Lord—not because we have the power to heal them, but because we know the One who does. We bring them because they matter. We bring them because they are loved. We bring them because Jesus still responds to the cries of His people.

LORD, we are sending some suffering sons and daughters to You today. Restore them, to Your glory.

[1] τρεμω

Posted in compassion, faith, healing, prayer | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment

the right rescuer

Posted on September 17, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:21-28

²¹ When Jesus had crossed over [in the boat] again to the other side, a large crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. ²² Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet ²³ and pleaded with him repeatedly, “My little daughter is in her last moments. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be rescued, and live.” ²⁴ So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. ²⁵ And there was a woman who had been suffering from haemorrhages for twelve years. ²⁶ She had been put through much suffering under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but grew worse instead. ²⁷ She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his coat, ²⁸ for she said, “If I only touch his clothes, I will be rescued.”

the right rescuer

Both of these people—Jairus and the woman—came to Jesus with the same desperate longing: rescue. Jairus came pleading for his daughter’s life. The woman came pleading for her own. Their circumstances were different, but their need was the same. And both of them, in their moment of deepest fear, found themselves drawn to the only One who could do anything about it.

They were also both people society would have labeled as “rich.” Jairus was a synagogue ruler, a man of influence, a man whose name carried weight. The woman, at least at one point, had enough resources to spend everything she had on doctors and treatments. But her wealth evaporated in the pursuit of healing, and she was left with nothing but disappointment and decline. Jairus still had his status, but none of that mattered when his daughter was dying. Illness does not bow to influence. Death does not respect position. Suffering does not pause for the wealthy.

And that is the quiet truth beneath this story: when life collapses, every earthly advantage becomes powerless. Money cannot stop disease. Influence cannot shield us from grief. Reputation cannot rescue the people we love. In the end, both Jairus and the woman found themselves standing in the same place—empty‑handed, frightened, and in need of mercy.

I once stood beside a father who was facing the death of his young daughter. I remember the ache in his voice, the helplessness in his eyes, the way his whole body seemed to sag under the weight of sorrow. I longed to give him the rescue he needed. I longed to speak a word that would turn back the tide. But I couldn’t. None of us can. There are no guarantees in life, no promises that shield us from loss. But there is one thing we can always say with confidence: coming to Jesus is always the right choice. He may not always rescue in the way we imagine, but He never turns away those who come to Him. He never wastes a cry for help. He never ignores a trembling hand reaching out in faith.

Jairus came to Jesus, and Jesus walked with him. The woman came to Jesus, and Jesus stopped for her. Both found that the Savior is never too busy, never too distant, never too overwhelmed to meet the needs of those who seek Him. And that same Savior invites us to come—not with polished prayers or perfect faith, but with our fears, our griefs, our desperate hopes, and our trembling trust.

LORD, we need rescue, for ourselves and for our loved ones. Teach us to come to You with our fears, to trust You with our burdens, and to rest in the confidence that You are the One who hears, who cares, and who saves.

Posted in deliverance, Jesus Christ, prayer | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment

and Jesus refused

Posted on September 16, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:14-20

¹⁴ The herdsmen ran off and told this to those in the city and in the country. Then people came to see what it was that had happened. ¹⁵ They came to Jesus and saw the former demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the same man who had had the legion; and they were terrified. ¹⁶ Those who had seen what had happened to the demoniac and to the pigs reported it. ¹⁷ Then they began to plead with Jesus to leave their neighbourhood. ¹⁸ As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed by demons pleaded with him that he might stay with him. ¹⁹ And Jesus refused, but said to him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has shown mercy to you.” ²⁰ And he went away and began to preach in the Decapolis what Jesus had done for him; and everyone was amazed.

and Jesus refused

If I were that man—freshly delivered, newly clothed in my right mind, still feeling the shock of freedom in my bones—I could have made a very compelling case for joining Jesus and the disciples. I could have argued that my testimony alone would be a powerful weapon against the forces of darkness. Who better to answer questions about spiritual warfare than someone who had lived under its tyranny? I could have reasoned that the villagers who once feared me now feared Jesus even more, and since I was now aligned with Jesus, they would surely fear me again. Why not leave all that behind and start over somewhere else, somewhere my past wouldn’t follow me like a shadow?

I could have pointed out that I had done real damage in my years of torment—damage to relationships, to property, to the peace of an entire region. People don’t forget that kind of history easily. It would have been far simpler to begin a new life in a new place, where no one knew the old stories and no one whispered when I walked by.

But Jesus refused. He did not entertain my arguments. He did not negotiate. He did not soften His answer. He simply said no. And that no was not rejection—it was direction. Jesus is the Master. He decides where His disciples go and what they do. He determines the field of service. He appoints the mission. He sends us where His grace intends to shine, not where our preferences feel most comfortable.

Jesus wanted that former demoniac to stay right there among the very people who had seen him at his worst. He wanted him to live out his transformation in the same streets where he once raged. He wanted him to speak of God’s mercy to the same neighbors who once chained him for their own safety. He wanted the contrast between his past and his present to be unmistakable. And who knows how many in that region eventually came to faith because they saw with their own eyes what Jesus had done in him? His first act of obedience was not preaching, not traveling, not performing miracles. His first act of obedience was surrender—letting go of his plans and embracing Christ’s plan.

There is a quiet but profound truth here for us. Sometimes the place we want to leave is the place Jesus calls us to stay. Sometimes the people we want to avoid are the people Jesus wants us to love. Sometimes the history we want to outrun is the very backdrop Jesus wants to redeem. And sometimes the ministry we imagine for ourselves is not the ministry Jesus assigns.

Following Jesus means trusting that His placement is purposeful. It means believing that He knows where our story will bear the most fruit. It means accepting that His plan may lead us back into places we would never choose on our own. And it means recognizing that obedience often begins with surrendering our best ideas so that His better plan can unfold.

LORD, help us to understand when our ideas are not fitting into Your plan. Teach us to release our preferences, to trust Your wisdom, and to serve faithfully wherever You place us.

Posted in commitment, contentment, discipleship, ministry | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment

Legion’s number

Posted on September 15, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:6-13

⁶ Seeing Jesus from far away, he rushed and bowed down before him; ⁷ then he shrieked with a loud voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the highest God? I beg you — God, do not torture me.” ⁸ Because he had been saying to him, “Come out of this man, you unclean spirit!” ⁹ Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, ” Legion is my name; because we are many.” ¹⁰ He pleaded with him earnestly not to send them out of the region. ¹¹ Now there on the hill, a large herd of pigs was feeding; ¹² and the unclean spirits pleaded with him, “Send us into the pigs; so that we can enter them.” ¹³ So he allowed them. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the pigs; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea, and were drowned in the sea.

Legion’s number

Legion’s number was up that day, and everyone in that region could feel it. The man who had terrified the countryside, the man no chain could restrain and no community could tolerate, suddenly found himself face‑to‑face with Someone he could not intimidate. The unclean spirits inside him—those forces that had tormented him, isolated him, and stripped him of his humanity—recognized Jesus long before the disciples fully understood Him. And the moment they saw Him, they panicked. For once, it was not the villagers who trembled. It was not the disciples who trembled. It was the demons. They knew their time was over. They knew their authority was finished. They knew that the One standing before them was not merely a teacher or a healer, but the Lord of heaven and earth.

This man who could never be confined on the outside was finally about to be set free on the inside. The chains that could not hold him were nothing compared to the word Jesus was about to speak. The community had given up on him. His family had likely mourned him as dead. But Jesus had not given up. Jesus crossed a stormy sea just to reach him. Jesus stepped onto foreign soil just to confront the darkness that held him. Jesus came for the one no one else wanted.

And here is where the story touches us. I have met many saints—faithful, sincere, devoted believers—who live with a quiet fear that they are one step away from losing everything. They speak about their faith as if it were a fragile thread, thin as paper, ready to snap at the slightest pressure. They fear failure. They fear temptation. They fear their own weakness. They fear the unknown future. They fear that one wrong move will send them spiraling into the abyss.

But, Christian, look at Legion. Look at the man who had lost all control, all dignity, all hope. Look at the forces that tormented him—forces far darker than anything you face. And notice this: the thing you fear the most, fears you. Not because of your strength, but because of the One who lives within you. Legion’s demons did not tremble at the sight of the man. They trembled at the sight of Jesus. They knew who He was. They knew His authority. They knew His power. And they knew they could not stand against Him.

The forces that threaten you know the same truth. They know the God who began a good work in you. They know He intends to finish what He started. They know His investment in you is eternal. They know His Spirit is not fragile. They know His grace is not temporary. They know His hold on you is not weak. You may feel like your faith is a thin string, but in reality, you are held by the unbreakable hands of God.

You will encounter threats. You will face storms. You will meet challenges that shake you. But none of them will cause God to abandon His work in you. He does not give up halfway. He does not lose interest. He does not walk away when things get messy. His investment is forever. His commitment is unwavering. His presence is constant. And His authority is absolute.

So when fear whispers that you are on the verge of collapse, remember Legion. Remember the demons who trembled. Remember the Savior who crossed the sea for one broken man. And remember that the same Savior stands with you, speaks for you, and fights for you.

LORD, strengthen our resolve, so that when life brings us challenges, we stand in faith against them. Teach us to trust Your power more than our fear, and to rest in the confidence that You will finish the work You began in us.

Posted in fear, ministry, perseverance, resistance | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment

the challenge of the unconfinable

Posted on September 14, 2015 by Jefferson Vann

Mark 5:1-5

¹ Then they came into the other side of the sea, into the region of the Gerasenes. ² And when he had stepped out of the boat, just then a man coming out of the tombs[1] with an unclean spirit met him. ³ He lived among the tombs; and no one could confine him anymore, even with a chain; ⁴ because he had often been confined with shackles and chains, but the chains he tore apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. ⁵ Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and beating himself with stones.

the challenge of the unconfinable

Every community has its edges, its margins, its people who live just outside the lines the rest of us try so hard to draw. And some of those people seem to resist every attempt at structure or stability. The more carefully you try to order your own life—your routines, your responsibilities, your spiritual disciplines—the more these unpredictable people seem to disrupt your sense of balance. You can try to steer clear of them, to keep your distance, to maintain your carefully arranged world. But if you follow Jesus into the places He actually goes, avoidance will not always be an option.

Jesus has a way of leading His disciples straight into the presence of people who cannot be managed, predicted, or contained. People whose choices unsettle us. People whose chaos spills into our calm. People who do not play by the rules we live by. And when you meet them, you discover how much self‑control it takes simply to stay present. Not to fix them. Not to overpower them. Not to retreat from them. Just to stand there with the steadiness of the Spirit while someone else’s lack of control presses against your own desire for order.

It is one thing to practice self‑control in the quiet of your own home, when everything is predictable and peaceful. It is another thing entirely to practice self‑control in the presence of someone who has surrendered theirs. Their volatility exposes our impatience. Their impulsiveness reveals our fear. Their unpredictability tests our compassion. And yet, these are often the very people Jesus places in our path—not to overwhelm us, but to teach us how to trust Him in real time.

Following Jesus means stepping into situations where our own strength is not enough. It means learning to breathe deeply when someone else’s chaos threatens to pull us off center. It means remembering that the Holy Spirit’s fruit is not grown in controlled environments but in real encounters with real people who stretch us beyond our comfort. And it means believing that Jesus is not asking us to manage the unmanageable—He is asking us to trust Him while we stand in the middle of it.

So we pray, not for the power to control others, but for the grace to remain rooted in God’s presence when we cannot control anything at all.

LORD, show us how to trust You when we encounter unconfinable people and unmanageable situations. Teach us to stand firm in Your Spirit, to remain gentle in the face of volatility, and to walk with You into places where our own strength is not enough.

[1] μνημειον (5:2; 6:29; 15:46; 16:2f, 5, 8).

Posted in courage, crisis, dependence upon God, self-control | Tagged Mark 5 | Leave a comment