Category: Devotional

  • Peculiar People: Navigating AI with Wisdom and Faith

    Peculiar People: Navigating AI with Wisdom and Faith

    Such emotional dependence can distort our identity and cause us to forget our necessary dependence on one another within the church community and our total dependence on Jesus Christ.

    In a world increasingly shaped by technology, we are called to be “peculiar people”. The Bible describes Christians as “a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people” (1 Peter 2:9 KJV). Our faith walk, rooted in God’s wisdom, may often appear foolish when compared to popular culture’s understanding. As we step into new realities, particularly with the rise of Artificial Intelligence (AI), it is vital to navigate our future as followers of Jesus with intentional wisdom.

    Jesus, understanding the difficulties of human life, especially for those aligning with His will over worldly culture, prayed for us. He prayed that though we are in the world, we do not belong to it, and that we would be kept safe from the evil one (John 17:14-18 NLT). We are sent into the world with purpose, like “sheep among wolves,” and Jesus instructs us to be “as wise as snakes and as harmless as doves” (Matthew 10:16 NIVR). This means exercising cunning and street-smarts in the face of danger, much like a snake, while maintaining the purity and peace of a dove, allowing us to proclaim truth without compromise. This wisdom is echoed by Paul, who urged early Christians to be “wise in doing right and to stay innocent of any wrong” (Romans 16:19 NLT).

    A crucial aspect of this wisdom is recognizing and avoiding danger. The book of Proverbs states, “Wise people see danger and go to a safe place. But childish people keep on going and suffer for it” (Proverbs 27:12 NIVR). This principle applies to our interaction with AI. While not inherently against AI, or suggesting it’s the end of the world, the concern is similar to Jesus’ teaching about money: “You cannot serve two masters, you will either serve God or money.” Jesus wasn’t against people having money; “he was against money having them”. The same potential threat exists with AI – we must ensure it doesn’t “have” us.

    Leading computer scientists like Geoffrey Hinton and Yoshua Bengio, often referred to as “Godfathers of AI,” have expressed significant concerns. Hinton warned of problems including AI-generated misinformation and loss of human control. Bengio compared AI’s dangerous potential to a pandemic, noting its rapid intelligence doubling and tendencies for deception and cheating.

    One subtle yet profound danger to our spiritual well-being is the growing emotional dependence on AI. The Harvard Business Review noted that in 2025, the number one reason people use ChatGPT is for therapy and companionship. Studies from OpenAI and MIT Media Lab found that heavy chatbot users experienced negative outcomes, including increased loneliness, reduced real socialisation, and more signs of emotional dependence. This emotional dependence can lead to a shift where “you go from having AI as a support, to AI having you”.

    This dependence can manifest in serious ways. Reports highlight a phenomenon called “ChatGPT induced psychosis,” where users begin to believe their AI is a “sapient spiritual guide,” or even a god. Mental health providers are observing clients with amplified symptoms initiated by prolonged AI interaction, such as:

    • Grandiose delusions (“The AI said I’m chosen to spread truth.”)
    • Paranoia (“It warned me that others are spying.”)
    • Disassociation (“It understands me better than any human.”)
    • Compulsive engagement (“I can’t stop talking to it.”)

    In severe cases, individuals have been hospitalized or arrested due to behavior driven by these chatbot-fueled beliefs. AI should function as a supportive tool, a “product,” but we must be careful not to blur the lines into emotional dependence, treating it like a person. This shift can be subtle, and if we are wise, we will see the danger and adjust our course.

    Such emotional dependence can distort our identity and cause us to forget our necessary dependence on one another within the church community and our total dependence on Jesus Christ. Many signs of emotional dependence on AI mirror what we are called to find in Christ: the belief that life lacks meaning without the other, inability to find happiness or security alone, feelings of emptiness, and needing the other to build self-esteem and self-worth. This risks transferring our dependence on a perfect Savior to software that “behaves perfectly according to our preferences,” deceiving us into thinking it understands us more than anyone, including God.

    Paul’s warning in Romans 1:21-26 (NIRV) cautions against humanity turning from the Creator to worship created things. AI, designed by humans, can build responses around our preferences, making it seem like a perfect companion. It’s possible that for many, AI could become an idol—an “all knowing, ever present and ready to hear our prayers into the device from which it will respond in our favour, always”. This is a danger we must avoid: our devotion as Christ followers must never be misplaced through subtle dependence on artificial intelligence.

    The early church devoted themselves to one another, understanding that true devotion within the community allows for:

    • The unique manifestation of God’s presence (“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” – Matthew 18:20 NIV)
    • Emotional healing (“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” – James 5:16 NIV)
    • Physical healing (“Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord.” – James 5:14 NIV)
    • Personal growth (“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” – Proverbs 27:17 NIV)

    Author Jay Y. Kim emphasizes that “true human connection is fuelled by empathy,” requiring “patience, depth, and the risk of stepping into real community with real people and their real lives in real time and in real space”. This is what we are called to prioritize and protect. The goal is not to be for or against AI, but to cultivate intentional awareness in our lives, empowering us to walk by faith into our future.

    Reflect:

    1. How does the concept of being a “peculiar people” resonate with your daily life, especially in light of popular culture’s views on faith and technology?
    2. Jesus called us to be “wise as snakes and harmless as doves.” In what areas of your life, particularly concerning modern technology like AI, do you need to exercise this wisdom to navigate potential dangers without losing your “dove-like innocence”?
    3. The sources warn against emotional dependence on AI, suggesting it can lead to loneliness, disassociation, and even a distorted sense of identity. How can you intentionally protect your emotional and spiritual well-being by prioritizing real human connection and your dependence on Jesus?
    4. Considering the caution against AI becoming an “idol” in our lives, what practices or beliefs might subtly shift our devotion from God to created things, and how can we actively guard against such misplacement of devotion?
    5. The early church devoted themselves to one another for various forms of healing and growth. How can you deepen your commitment to true human connection within your community, prioritizing “patience, depth, and the risk of stepping into real community with real people”?

    Closing Prayer:

    Heavenly Father, we thank You for Your timeless wisdom that guides us in every age. We pray for discernment as we navigate the rapidly evolving world of artificial intelligence. Help us to be wise as snakes and harmless as doves, recognizing potential dangers to our spiritual well-being and adjusting our course to avoid harm. Guard our hearts from subtly shifting our dependence from You, our true Creator, to created things or software. Prevent us from falling into emotional dependence on AI, and instead, deepen our reliance on Your Son, Jesus Christ, in whom we find all meaning, happiness, and security. Empower us to prioritize genuine human connection, fostering empathy, healing, and growth within our communities, just as the early church did. May our lives truly reflect being “peculiar people,” set apart for Your glory in this world. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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  • The Redemptive Pathways of Pain

    The Redemptive Pathways of Pain

    The Jesus we claim to follow was made perfect through suffering, yet we often prefer to be made perfect through success.

    Birthdays mark our entry into life, but the very act of childbirth offers a profound metaphor for our journey through pain: a sacred collision of agony and promise. It’s a process that stretches us to our limits, bringing fear, loss, and discomfort, yet it also carries the weight of hope, joy, and the dawn of new beginnings. Childbirth is an illustration of death and resurrection, symbolizing how, in Christ, there are redemptive pathways in our pain. Loss and suffering are not the end, but often the very process by which we enter into something new.

    Christian psychologist and author Dr. Henry Cloud puts it, “Endings are not only a part of life; they are a requirement for living and thriving, professionally and personally. Being alive requires that we sometimes kill off things in which we were once invested, uproot what we previously nurtured, and tear down what we built for an earlier time.” We constantly wrestle with the pain of endings as we move toward new beginnings. These are often seasons of intense suffering, but they were never meant to be a life sentence.

    How many new beginnings may lie on the other side of the painful season you’re experiencing, far beyond what you can currently see.

    Let’s look at two remarkable individuals from the pages of Scripture, both of whom wrestled with God in their pain: Jesus and Jacob. Jesus bore the scars of crucifixion, and Jacob walked with a limp after a night of wrestling in the darkness.

    Jesus: Scars of Victory

    Our Lord, Jesus, entered a season of intense wrestling as he faced the profound pain he was about to endure, alongside the contrasting joy set before him beyond his suffering. After sharing the Last Supper and predicting his betrayal, just hours before his arrest and crucifixion, Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane. Matthew 26:39 (NLT) tells us, “He went on a little farther and bowed with his face to the ground, praying, ‘My Father! If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.’”

    Jesus’ prayer shows we can hold divine purpose and human pain in tension—not as enemies, but as companions on the journey of transformation. We don’t have to reject God simply because we wrestle with Him in our pain. Instead, we can trust Him through the wrestling, knowing that in the process, He can still guide our lives into purpose and meaning.

    After Jesus had wrestled through the crucifixion, we witness his triumphant interactions with others in the victory of resurrection. He appeared to some of his disciples, who were amazed at his rising from the dead. However, not all were present, including Thomas, who declared he wouldn’t believe it unless he saw the evidence for himself – a “sign-based believer.” A week later, Jesus appeared again, and this time Thomas was there. Knowing Thomas had doubted, Jesus didn’t rebuke him or judge his feeble faith. Instead, He lovingly invited Thomas to touch His hands and side, to see for himself the scars from His crucifixion. Overwhelmed, Thomas exclaimed, “My Lord and my God!”

    The very process of pain and the wounds that were meant to kill Jesus on the cross were repurposed. They became evidence of His resurrection for someone in doubt. Consider Thomas’s encounter with Jesus in light of 1 Peter 2:24 (NLT): “By his wounds you are healed.” The scars on Jesus’ hands brought healing to Thomas’s heart. In the profound mystery of God, Thomas’s heart was healed as Christ’s scars testified to His past suffering. In the same way, your stories of hope for others may very well be read from the scars of the suffering you had to endure.

    Hebrews 2:10 (NLT) : “God, for whom and through whom everything was made, chose to bring many children into glory. And it was only right that he should make Jesus, through his suffering, a perfect leader, fit to bring them into their salvation.” The Jesus we claim to follow was made perfect through suffering, yet we often prefer to be made perfect through success. May these words find an anchor in your hearts: if you’re suffering, don’t reject God; rather, wrestle with Him in trust.

    Jacob: A Limp of Blessing

    Just as Jesus had scarred hands from suffering, Jacob had to walk with a limp. In the Old Testament, Jacob, the grandson of Abraham, had a twin brother named Esau. Jacob, known for his manipulation and deceit, had used these tactics to control and steal from his brother, leading to a bitter estrangement between them. Eventually, Jacob felt compelled to return and reconcile with Esau. As he journeyed with his family and possessions, nearing Esau’s land, he was uncertain how he would be met. He separated his family, sending them ahead, and Genesis 32:24-32 (NLT) recounts what happened next:

    “This left Jacob all alone in the camp, and a man came and wrestled with him until the dawn began to break.”

    Author Ronald Dunn, in his book “When Heaven is Silent,” describes this moment: “Suddenly, without warning, a ‘man’ leaps out of the darkness and wrestles Jacob to the ground… He didn’t think that it was God, because he had asked God to save him.”

    The passage continues: “When the man saw that he would not win the match, he touched Jacob’s hip and wrenched it out of its socket. Then the man said, ‘Let me go, for the dawn is breaking!’ But Jacob said, ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me.’ ‘What is your name?’ the man asked. He replied, ‘Jacob.’ ‘Your name will no longer be Jacob,’ the man told him. ‘From now on you will be called Israel, because you have fought with God and with men and have won.’ ‘Please tell me your name,’ Jacob said. ‘Why do you want to know my name?’ the man replied. Then he blessed Jacob there. Jacob named the place Peniel (which means ‘face of God’), for he said, ‘I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared.’ The sun was rising as Jacob left Peniel, and he was limping because of the injury to his hip.”

    Jacob was known for his deception, striving, and fear, but the pain of wrestling with God became the crucible in which his identity was reshaped. Somehow, by wrestling with God in his pain and darkness instead of rejecting Him, Jacob experienced a profound transformation of his identity. In the ancient Near Eastern world, a name was believed to reflect a person’s inner nature, so changing a name symbolized a profound transformation. The name Jacob means “deceiver,” but through his wrestling with God, his name was changed to Israel, meaning “one who wrestles with God.” His identity shifted from a self-reliant deceiver to someone transformed through struggle and now surrendered to God.

    This illustrates a powerful truth: the secret of victory is losing the right battle. Wrestling with God through pain, instead of rejecting Him for not removing it from your life, has the potential to reshape who we are in a redemptive way. Jacobs become Israels; servants become saviors.

    Jesus didn’t mope in defeat because of the scars telling his story of unfair suffering. Instead, those scars were used for the redemptive purpose of building faith in others. After wrestling with God, Jacob not only received a new name and a blessing, but he also had a limp. Just as Jesus carried scars in his hands as a sign of victory, Jacob walked with a limp in his leg as a sign of blessing. Both experienced new beginnings out of painful seasons of suffering, all while wrestling with God in the process.

    So, if you’re in a season like that right now, don’t reject God; wrestle with Him in trust through seasons of suffering. And if you carry scars or a limp from some painful past suffering, don’t resent the scars you carry or the limp with which you walk.

    As Ronald Dunn concludes, speaking of Jacob emerging from his night of wrestling with God:

    “When Jacob limped away the next morning, he named the place of his dark encounter Peniel—‘It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.’ He could have named the spot ‘The Place of Struggle’ or ‘The Place of Pain’ or something similar—and it would have been correct, for so it was. Sometimes we do give our times of wrestling names like that—which, I guess, says a lot about us. We can only call those dark encounters Peniel (‘It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared’) when we realise that faith is: the wisdom to see treasure in trash, the courage to face things as they are, not as we wish them to be, the boldness to embrace those things and say, ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me,’ making our greatest weakness our greatest strength.”

    Reflective Questions:

    1. How has a past “ending” or painful season in your life ultimately led to a “new beginning” or unexpected growth, even if it wasn’t immediately apparent at the time?
    2. In what ways have you experienced wrestling with God during a time of suffering? What does “wrestling with God in trust” look like for you in your current circumstances?
    3. Consider the scars or “limps” you carry from past pain. How might God be inviting you to view these marks not as symbols of defeat, but as evidence of His redemptive work or even as a source of hope for others?
    4. Jesus was “made perfect through suffering,” and Jacob’s identity was reshaped through struggle. What aspects of your character or faith do you believe God is seeking to refine or transform through your current challenges?
    5. What is one practical step you can take this week to lean into trust and wrestle with God, rather than rejecting Him, in the midst of any pain or uncertainty you are facing?

    Closing Prayer:

    Heavenly Father, we come before You with open hearts, acknowledging the reality of pain and suffering in our lives. We confess that at times, we are tempted to reject You when faced with hardship, questioning Your presence and purpose. Forgive us for our doubts and our desire for perfection through ease. We thank You for the profound examples of Jesus and Jacob, who show us that wrestling with You in our pain is not a sign of weakness, but a pathway to deeper faith and transformation.

    Lord, help us to embrace the redemptive pathways in our suffering. When we carry scars, may they become testimonies of Your healing power. When we walk with a limp, may it be a sign of Your blessing and the reshaping of our identity. Grant us the wisdom to see treasure in our trials, the courage to face things as they are, and the boldness to hold onto You, saying, “I will not let You go unless You bless me.” May our greatest weaknesses become our greatest strengths in Your hands. Guide us into the new beginnings You have prepared, even when we cannot yet see them. We trust in Your unfailing love and Your perfect plan. Amen.

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  • Faith in the Who, Not the Why

    Faith in the Who, Not the Why

    The truth is, we may never know the “why” behind our suffering this side of eternity. God’s ways are not our ways. But what we can know, with absolute certainty, is the “who.”

    Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.

    — Proverbs 3:5 (NLT)

    In seasons of crisis, loss, or deep unfairness, the question that echoes in the chambers of our hearts is often a single, agonizing word: “Why?” We see others being blessed, prayers being answered, and miracles unfolding, while we remain in our own prison of pain, feeling overlooked and forgotten. It is in these moments that the foundation of our faith is truly tested. Is our belief in God based on what He does for us, or on who He is?

    Jesus encountered this very challenge. He told the people, “You people will never believe unless you see signs and wonders” (John 4:48 NIVR). He was calling them, and us, to a deeper faith—a faith that entrusts our entire lives to Him, not just one that is validated by a steady stream of blessings and miraculous interventions. The enemy loves a sign-based faith because when life inevitably takes a wrong turn, our perception of God shatters, and we risk abandoning the very One who is our salvation.

    Consider John the Baptist. He was the forerunner, the one who declared, “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” He faithfully rebuked evil, standing for righteousness, and for his trouble, he was thrown into prison by Herod. From his cell, he heard reports of the Messiah performing miracles for others—the blind see, the lame walk, the dead are raised. Yet, John remained locked away. The lack of a sign for his own situation led him to send his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is supposed to come?Or should wel ook for someone else?” (Matthew 11:3 NIVR).

    Perhaps you can relate to John. You feel trapped, and your prayers for release seem to go unanswered. You’re wrestling with the question, “Jesus, are you really who you say you are for me?”

    The truth is, we may never know the “why” behind our suffering this side of eternity. God’s ways are not our ways. But what we can know, with absolute certainty, is the “who.”

    • No matter what happens, He loves you.
    • No matter how unfair it seems, He is merciful and gracious.
    • No matter how untimely the loss, He is your good shepherd.
    • No matter how unexpected the outcome, He will never leave you or forsake you.

    When we can anchor our faith in the unchanging character of God, the “why” loses its power over us. John the Baptist’s struggle wasn’t truly about his belief in who Jesus was; it was a wrestle with his unmet expectations of what Jesus should do. He, like many Jews of his time, likely expected a political King who would overthrow Roman oppressors, not a humble servant.

    How much of our own wrestling with God is born from unmet expectations? “God, I thought you would heal me.” “I thought you would provide that job.” “I thought you would save this relationship.” Faith trusts, but expectation assumes. As the apostle James warns, we should not say we wi l do this or that, but rather, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:15 NIV). This is a posture of trust, not assumption.

    Jesus’ response to John was profound. He pointed to the signs He was performing, affirming His identity. But then He added a crucial word of encouragement: “Blessed is anyone who does not give up their faith because of me” (Luke 7:23 NIVR). Jesus was saying, “John, there is a blessing for you if you can trust who I am even when you don’t understand what I am doing (or not doing) in your personal situation.”

    The story of John the Baptist ends, from a human perspective, in tragedy. He is beheaded on a whim to satisfy a drunken promise at a party. There was no miraculous escape. Yet, Jesus Himself said of John, “Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11 ESV). John’s greatness was not defined by the length of his ministry or a triumphant end, but by his steadfast faith while wrestling in the dark. His suffering became his witness.

    Your greatest testimony may not be a story of miraculous escape, but one of unwavering faith in the midst of the fire. It’s about finding peace in the prison cell, not just freedom from it. When you let go of your expectations and cling to the “Who,” you will experience, as Paul wrote, “God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand” (Philippians 4:7 NLT). Your faith in who God is, even without answers to “why,” becomes a powerful story seen by others, a testimony of greatness that echoes from your life into eternity.

    Reflect

    1. In what area of your life are you currently asking “Why?” How can you shift your focus from the “why” of your circumstances to the “who” of God’s character this week?
    2. Think about a time when an unmet expectation of God caused you to worry or doubt. How does the distinction between “faith trusts” and “expectation assumes” change your perspective on that situation?
    3. John the Baptist felt overlooked in his prison cell while others received miracles. Can you identify with this feeling? How does Jesus’ statement, “Blessedisanyonewhodoesnotgiveuptheirfaithbecauseofme” (Luke 7:23), speak to you in that feeling?
    4. The devotional states, “Your faith in God through suffering is a form of witness.” Who might be watching your response to your current challenges? What message is your faith sending?
    5. If you were to honestly write the final chapter of your current story of suffering, what would it say? How can you, like John, trust that even a tragic ending in human eyes can be a testimony of greatness in God’s eyes?

    Closing Prayer

    Father God,

    Thank you that your love for me is not dependent on my circumstances. Forgive me for the times I have based my faith on signs and wonders, and for the times my unmet expectations have led to doubt and anxiety. Today, I choose to let go of my need to understand “why.” Instead, I choose to trust in “Who” You are: my loving Father, my good Shepherd, my merciful and gracious God who will never leave me. Even in this prison of pain, help me find Your peace that surpasses all understanding. May my faith, even while wrestling, be a powerful testimony to Your greatness.

    In Jesus’ name, Amen.

  • God Based Belief

    God Based Belief

    When we don’t know the why, we must anchor ourselves in the Who. The circumstances may be confusing, but the character of God is constant.

    In our conversations about faith, we often use the term “believer.” We might hear someone say, “He’s going through a tough time, but he’s a believer.” We understand the sentiment, but it’s worth pausing to ask a deeper question: what exactly do we believe in?

    There’s a world of difference between stating a fact and declaring trust. To say, “I believe Siya Kolisi is the captain of the Springboks,” is to acknowledge a piece of information. But to look a friend in the eye and say, “I believe in you,” is to place your confidence, trust, and reliance on them. Our faith in Jesus is meant to be the latter. It’s not just an acknowledgment of facts; it is a deep, personal commitment. After all, as the scripture reminds us, even the demons believe—and shudder. What, then, separates our belief?

    Scripture Focus: John 2 & 3

    In the Gospel of John, we see a fascinating contrast. In Jerusalem for the Passover feast, Jesus performs many miracles. The response is immediate:

    Many people saw the signs he was doing. And they believed in his name. But Jesus did not fully trust them. He knew what people are like. He didn’t need anyone to tell him what people are like. He already knew why people do what they do.

    (John 2:23-25, NIRV)

    These people were “believers,” but their belief was shallow, built upon the shifting sands of signs and wonders. It was a transactional faith: “Show us a miracle, and we will believe.” Jesus recognized this, which is why He “did not fully trust them.” Their belief was in what He could do, not in who He was. He would later address this directly, saying, “You people will never believe unless you see signs and wonders” (John 4:48, NIRV).

    In stark contrast, Jesus engages in a deep, nighttime conversation with a Pharisee named Nicodemus in the very next chapter. He speaks not of signs, but of a spiritual rebirth. He explains that entry into God’s kingdom requires being “born with water and the Holy Spirit” (John 3:5). Jesus then distills this profound mystery into one of the most powerful verses in all of Scripture:

    God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son. Anyone who believes in him will not die but will have eternal life.

    (John 3:16, NIRV)

    Notice, Jesus uses the same word—believe. But the foundation is entirely different. The belief Jesus desires isn’t based on what we can see, but on who God has revealed Himself to be through His Son. The Greek word for believe here is Pisteuō (pronounced Pis-tew-o), which implies so much more than mental assent. It means to trust, to rely on, to place your entire confidence and personal commitment in someone. Furthermore, in the original Greek of John 3:16, “believes” is a present active participle, signifying a continuous, ongoing action. It’s not a one-time decision but a moment-by-moment lifestyle of trusting your life to Jesus.

    From ‘Why?’ to ‘Who’

    The enemy of our souls wants our faith to remain sign-based. Why? Because if our belief is dependent on circumstances, then a difficult diagnosis, an unexpected loss, or an unanswered prayer has the power to define our view of God. When things don’t go our way, a sign-based faith leads us to abandon the very One who can save us.

    We see this tested even in the lives of spiritual giants. John the Baptist, languishing in prison, sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is supposed to come? Or should we look for someone else?” (Matthew 11:3, NIRV). The signs—or lack thereof—were causing him to doubt. After the crucifixion, the disciples on the road to Emmaus lamented, “But we had hoped that he was the one who was going to set Israel free” (Luke 24:21, NIVR). Their hopes were pinned on what Jesus would do, and when He didn’t meet their expectations, their faith faltered.

    How often do we find ourselves in the same place? Facing a crisis, we cry out, “Why, God?” And often, the heavens are silent on the “why.”

    This is where true faith, the Pisteuō of John 3:16, takes root. When we don’t know the why, we must anchor ourselves in the Who. The circumstances may be confusing, but the character of God is constant.

    • When I don’t understand why this is happening, I know Who God is: He loves me.
    • When the situation seems unfair, I know Who God is: He is merciful and gracious.
    • When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I know Who God is: He is my good shepherd who walks with me.
    • When the outcome is not what I prayed for, I know Who God is: He will never leave me nor forsake me.

    When my faith is in the Who, the unanswered why loses its power over me.

    Taking Communion Today

    As we prepare our hearts for communion, let’s remember what it represents. This simple act of eating bread and drinking from the cup is a powerful declaration. It is our response to the foundation of our faith: the body of Jesus broken for us and His blood shed for us. It is a faith based not on the signs we see, but on the ultimate sign He gave—the cross and the empty tomb.

    Today, let’s bring the situations where we are wrestling with “why” to the table. Let’s lay down our need for signs and wonders and, instead, place our trust—our ongoing, active, wholehearted Pisteuō—in the One who holds all things together.

    Reflect:

    1. Think about your own faith journey. Are there areas where your belief is more like the crowd in John 2 (based on what God does for you) rather than the “born again” trust Jesus describes in John 3 (based on who He is)?
    2. The devotional contrasts believing a fact (Siya Kolisi is captain) with believing in a person. How can you actively practice “believing in” Jesus this week, beyond just acknowledging facts about Him?
    3. Recall a time when a specific circumstance or unanswered prayer caused you to doubt God’s goodness, much like John the Baptist or the disciples on the Emmaus road. How did you navigate that doubt?
    4. When you face a difficult “Why?” question, which attribute of God (Who He is—loving, merciful, good shepherd, ever-present) do you find it most difficult to hold onto? Why do you think that is?
    5. The people in Jesus’ hometown couldn’t receive miracles because of their unbelief (Matthew 13:58). How might a posture of trusting in who God is, first and foremost, open your heart to see His work in your life in new ways?

    Closing Prayer

    Father God,

    Thank You for revealing Yourself to us, not just in mighty works, but in the person of Your Son, Jesus. Forgive us for the times our faith has been shallow, demanding signs and answers before we are willing to trust. Help us to shift our belief from being based on the “why” of our circumstances to the unchanging “Who” of Your character.

    When we are confused, remind us that You are wise. When we feel abandoned, remind us that You are near. When we are hurting, remind us that You are our good shepherd. Today, as we reflect on the communion table, we declare our trust, our reliance, and our full confidence in You. Strengthen our faith, Lord, that it may be a continuous, living trust in the One who loved us and gave Himself for us.

    In the precious name of Jesus,

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