Lights & Truth

What Reveals Us

December 22nd, 2025

The revelation of Jesus Christ to John the beloved is often thought of as nothing more than an apocalyptic story detailing the end of the world. While the imagery it contains can be terrifying, there is a much deeper message being presented in this book. What is spoken here goes beyond symbolism and hidden meanings. In fact, the revelation is being spoken plainly, but like all truth, it must be received in order to be understood. From the very beginning, this revelation is not merely about future events, but about alignment—about who we choose to follow, what we give our allegiance to, and how we are marked long before any visible sign ever appears.

The prophecy speaks of destruction, judgment, and spiritual war. It speaks of Christ returning, seated on the throne, judging each according to their works, and of a new earth where those who remain faithful dwell in eternity. Since these words were written, many individuals and groups have claimed to know exactly when these events will take place. More often than not, this pursuit leads to deception, fear, and resentment. This is not to say that warnings should be ignored, but that perhaps we have misunderstood what the warning is actually revealing. Instead of pointing us only to a moment in time, the revelation exposes the posture of the heart and the direction of the mind.

To understand the revelation of Jesus Christ, we must look at the entirety of Scripture. After the fall of man, a consistent pattern emerges. God appoints a representative among the people to confront their fallen state. There is an initial unshackling, followed by discovery, then judgment, destruction, and ultimately redemption. This pattern appears through prophets, judges, and kings—each acting as a vessel through which God reveals His will and attempts to restore order among the people.

Yet none of these representatives were complete. Prophets spoke truth but did not reign. Kings reigned but often lacked obedience. Judges restored order temporarily but could not sustain it. All were human, and because of this, each carried limitation. Even with good intentions, they often filtered God’s will through compassion shaped by subjectivity. This was not always rebellion, but it was distortion. Subjectivity, though well-meaning, interrupts divine order. Because of this, a representative was needed who could fulfill all roles without compromise—one who could speak truth as a prophet, rule in righteousness as a king, and judge without corruption.

One December, many centuries ago, a woman conceived by the Holy Spirit. What entered the world was not merely a child, but the perfect representative. Jesus came as prophet, king, and judge—fully human and fully divine. He did not come to destroy creation, but to restore it. Through His life, He revealed truth. Through His authority, He reestablished order. Through His judgment, He separated truth from illusion. In this way, He became a living testimony of what it truly means to be human while remaining perfectly aligned with the will of God.

Through His death and resurrection, Jesus broke sin’s dominion over humanity. He became the sacrifice so that we would not have to, not removing choice, but restoring access. Salvation was made possible, not automatic. This leads to the question many struggle with: if sin was defeated, why does it still exist? If humanity was restored, why is salvation not guaranteed? Why must obedience still matter?

This is where the revelation of Jesus Christ becomes personal. Just as humanity was created perfect and still fell, free will remains even after redemption. Revelation does not remove agency; it reveals identity. It shows us who we are becoming through what we choose to align with. The mark spoken of is not merely something placed upon us in the future—it is formed in us now. It is the imprint of allegiance, shaped by what we worship, what we trust, and what we allow to govern our thoughts.

We will experience the shifting of the world. We will experience spiritual conflict. We will feel pressure to conform to systems shaped by man rather than by God. But endurance is promised fruit, and those who endure are promised life. The call of revelation is not escape, but faithfulness. Not fear, but discernment.

As this holiday season approaches, consider it not simply as a time when Jesus was born, but as the moment when the true path was fully conceived. The arrival of Christ was not just an event in history—it was the restoration of order, the unveiling of truth, and the invitation to walk in the light rather than in its reflection.
Order in the Wilderness

December 19th, 2025

When we choose to live without order, we are choosing chaos. Chaos is not a thing in itself; it is simply the absence of order. There are moments when circumstances outside of our control thrust us into chaos without warning, but even then, it is always up to the individual to decide how they will move forward from that initial state. Reprieve is never automatic—it must be chosen.

The danger is that when we find ourselves inside chaos, it becomes easy to spiral deeper into it. This often happens because of a lack of faith, or worse, a hardening of conviction in the moment. God does reveal things to us, but there will always be realities that exist well beyond the reach of human understanding. This is precisely why faith is not optional—it is essential. We are always believing in something, but there is only one path that leads to true order, and that path aligns us with His will. Though chaos was never intended as our dwelling place, by grace, God is still able to draw purpose from it if we are willing to open our hearts.

For many of us, chaos takes the form of the wilderness.

When the Hebrew people were freed from Egypt, they repeatedly rejected order. Because of this, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years on the way to the promised land (Exodus 16–17; Numbers 14). On the surface, this appears to be punishment—a failure met with delay. But when viewed beyond a narrow lens, the wilderness reveals itself as preparation. God was not simply preparing them for life upon entering the land, but for generations that would follow. The wilderness was shaping a people, not just solving a moment.

This is where many of us struggle. When hardship comes, our focus turns inward. We think almost exclusively about the self. Some begin to blame God for their circumstances or for not removing them from the wilderness fast enough. What we often fail to see is that the present moment may not be only about us. We live within a design that prioritizes the whole over the individual. Yet this does not mean God is distant or indifferent. In the wilderness, He provides exactly what is needed, exactly when it is needed—manna for the day, not excess for the future (Exodus 16:4). This sustains us while building temperance.

Most of us, if we are honest, choose chaos over order.

Yes, there are moments when chaos comes uninvited, but there are also moments when it is the result of collective decisions. Sin feels personal, but its consequences are often communal. Our actions affect our environment, our families, and even the spiritual atmosphere we live within. This is why Scripture records entire cities being judged—not because God was unaware of the individual, but because the collective spirit had become corrupted (Genesis 18–19; Jonah 3–4). Even then, judgment never arrives without warning. Grace always precedes collapse.

God gives us opportunities to choose order before chaos reaches its fullest expression. Even when we are not living fully aligned, warning signs are present. The problem is that without order, we often lose the ability to see clearly. This is where walking by faith, and not by sight, becomes essential (2 Corinthians 5:7).

As we close this week, it is important to remember that we are participants, not owners, of the moment. We do not control circumstances—we only choose how we move through them. It is easy to fixate on whether we are living in darkness or chaos, but even in the most difficult moments, we are invited to remain present and open-hearted.

God cannot remove chaos from the world without removing our freedom to choose. But He loves us enough to use even unwelcome circumstances to shape our character. The wilderness molds us into vessels capable of carrying the Spirit and stewarding its gifts (Psalm 66:10–12).

If you are living in order today, practice gratitude.
If you are living in chaos, resist despair and search for purpose.

The treasure may be hidden, but once it is found, gratitude must follow. Do not seek chaos. Seek order—even when it corrects, disciplines, and refines.

Which will you choose today?
Where Light Is Sought

December 17th, 2025

The essence of mankind is to live for God and God alone. Apart from Him, we are not capable of goodness—because to be without God is to be without good. The absence of light is darkness. Darkness was not created by Him, but it was allowed for our sake. We were given free will, and through that will, we imagined darkness into our world.

When darkness emerged, it began to seek the light, because it lacked its warmth. Darkness is not the truth, but nothing that exists is ever fully removed from it. Even in separation, there is still an awareness of what is missing. This is why Scripture speaks so seriously about blasphemy—not as a single action, but as a continual rebellion. Mercy covers individual moments, but a sustained turning away from the source creates distance. Grace allows us to live, yet in every moment we are still choosing which path we follow.

It is inevitable to feel the changing of seasons. Hardship is not a flaw in the design—it is part of it. Scripture often describes this place as the wilderness. Not as punishment, but as passage. “He led them through the wilderness to humble them and to test them, to know what was in their hearts.” (Deut. 8:2)

The wilderness is where darkness feels most present—not because God is absent, but because all distractions are removed. David cries out from this place in the Psalms: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23:4) Notice that the valley is walked through, not lived in. Darkness is not a destination. It is a terrain.

Hardship is most deeply felt when we refuse to let borrowed gifts return to the flow of time. Everything given is meant to pass through us, not remain with us forever. “As for man, his days are like grass… the wind passes over it, and it is gone.” (Psalm 103:15–16) If what is given were held forever, it would become corrupted—and corruption is not permitted within the design.

So what we once held tightly to is eventually returned, and we are left with a shell. That shell may still resemble what once lived, but it is hollow. This is where darkness begins—not simply because life is gone, but because we pour our own spark into sustaining the shell. We give our life force to what no longer carries life. And because that force is finite, the act becomes draining.

This is when we stop creating and begin seeking replenishment externally. This is where consumption begins.

Yet it is only by acknowledging this darkness—by seeing it for what it is—that we can draw near to the source again. The Psalms remind us that “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) Near—not distant. Present—not absent.

We have no control over circumstances, only over our response to them. It is not within our design to understand all things. When we attempt to do so, we elevate ourselves and try to take a seat on the throne.

This is the moment echoed in the story of Babel—when ascent leads not to clarity, but to confusion. Thought fragments. Focus dissolves. Everything begins to feel foreign, as if spoken in a language we no longer understand. This confusion is not punishment; it is the result of trusting instinct over surrender, self over source.

Still, it is the nature of the Light to help us see—even in darkness. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105) A lamp does not remove the wilderness; it gives just enough light for the next step.

The Light does not interpret reality to fit our worldview. It restores a universal language that has remained unchanged through time. The language of the soul. The language of love.

Love recenters us. It draws us back toward the light that already exists within us. We do not need to know how we are being moved or when the journey will end. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

We are always in motion, whether in light or in darkness.

So do not concern yourself too deeply with where you are.
Be present.
Listen.

What is love telling you today?
Lights & Truth

December 15th, 2025

In the vastness of the universe there shone a Great Light—one that contained all truth and all knowledge. From this Light a world was formed, and with it its inhabitants, who were given free will. To the Great Light, darkness did not exist. It was not a concept that needed definition.

The people of the world, however, chose to explore the mysteries of creation. To preserve truth while still honoring freedom, the Creator allowed chaos to take shape. But because His nature is love—and love requires order—chaos was not left unchecked. With it came laws: universal principles that governed all things.

To guard these laws and guide the people, the Great Light formed watchers. They were entrusted with truth, set between chaos and order so the people could discern the difference. And the Great Light continued to shine as He always had.

In time, one of these watchers rose against the Light.

His power was stripped from him. He was severed from the source and cast down into the world below. Yet the people became intrigued by this fallen star. They lifted him into the sky so all could behold him. And because the Great Light was so radiant that all of creation reflected it, the fallen one began to shine as well—but only by reflection.

Many followed this lesser light. It promised freedom, yet concealed the cost of chaos. Slowly, they became lost. A few, however, saw through the illusion and chose to walk toward the Great Light instead. Though many wandered, the Great Light never ceased reaching out to correct their path.

To the Great Light, there is no light and darkness—there are only lights and truth.

To live within the will of God is to live within order. We are free to step outside of it, but we must understand that we are incapable of creating order on our own. We can mimic it, because its image was given to us, but imitation is not the same as being. Order is objective. It cannot be corrupted.

This does not mean those who walk within order are incorruptible—only that corruption places us outside its shelter. And though we speak of order as if it confines us, it is anything but limiting. Through order, we gain access to eternity. This is the nature of truth. It appears simple, yet contains answers beyond what we can comprehend.

Order asks only acceptance. It gives freely and demands nothing in return to continue giving. When we lose material things, we are not being punished—we are participating in the natural flow of creation. Blessings were never meant to be possessed forever. All things come to pass, and we must allow them to leave when their time is complete. When we try to make what is temporary eternal, we step out of order and into chaos.

A rose in full bloom radiates beauty that captivates every sense. But the moment is brief. The petals will fall. Some try to preserve that beauty by plucking the rose, only to hasten its decay. Others attempt to capture it by image, later realizing the moment was never fully experienced because their attention was divided.

This sense of “missing out” is the mark of chaos. Chaos presents itself as freedom, but those who walk its path eventually discover they are living inside a cage. Order grants true freedom, yet we often mistake that freedom for chaos—until it slowly slips away.

Chaos offers an image of success, but it will always remain an image. It is unattainable by nature, because chaos has no form. It is only potential. As we chase it, the image changes endlessly, shaped by perspective, never settling into truth.

The turning point comes when we accept these realities. Chaos exists because of our desire for more—without knowing what “more” truly is. We chase the glimmer of reflected light and fall deeper into the void. Yet even there, truth remains.

All things have purpose. When this is realized, truth reveals itself as order—unchanging, steady, and warm, even when it feels distant. Many attempt to reshape truth so it will accept them, but this is not its nature. We are meant to accept truth; truth is not meant to bend toward us.

Truth stands as the Great Light—like the sun—unchanging, eternal, present long before us and long after. To God, there is no separation between light and darkness, for in both He remains, guiding us back to Him.

To many, truth appears dark and chaos appears bright. But when we surrender our subjective beliefs, we begin to find God in every moment. We learn to appreciate the beauty of light while discerning the truth that even darkness reveals.

Try, for a moment today, to remove the self from the moment—and experience it as it truly is.
Seeds & Embers

December 12th, 2025

Our time on this earth is a gift from the Most High. At any given moment we have the freedom to choose how we will interact with this world. The way we move through life determines how we are known by others, and our perspective shapes how we understand ourselves. In an ideal world, everyone would choose to be a creator—never having to carry the burden of hardship—but realistically, many find themselves caught in a constant state of consumption, unaware that the way back is always inward.

It is easy to become immersed in the feeling of consumption and assume the identity that forms around it. But creation and consumption are actions, not definitions. They direct us, but they do not determine who we are. We will all cycle between the seeds of creation and the embers of consumption from time to time. How we move forward from these moments becomes the true testing ground of our growth.

The embers of consumption, if left unchecked, can grow into an overwhelming blaze—one capable of destroying whole sections of your life. Destruction is never the intention for us, yet God still allows us to experience it when we’ve buried ourselves too deeply in false identities. It is not divine order for God to forcibly change our circumstances, but because of grace, even in our darkest hours we are given the chance for redemption. This is the unique nature of God: though darkness is allowed to exist, embers remain that inevitably point us back in the right direction.

Ultimately, we must choose purpose over vanity. Many still will not find their purpose, but not because it is withheld—only because it is often misunderstood. We are conditioned to believe purpose should feel grand or extraordinary, but that feeling is temporary. The spark we call “purpose” is simply the celebration that welcomes us back to the path. Like the prodigal son, grace receives us. And every so often, we choose instead the path of the older brother—we become bored within grace, jealous when others return home, and convinced that what we lack exists out in the world. This is when we fan the embers of consumption. Yet the beauty of this path is simple: when the flames finally consume all that they can and die out, truth remains.

Pine cones fall from their branches and cover the forest floor—forgotten, ordinary, overlooked. But when a forest fire sweeps through and seems to consume everything in its path, something unexpected happens. Long after the flames fade, a new forest of evergreen begins to rise. This is because the seeds within many pine cones only release when exposed to intense heat. Their design carries an internal knowing: new life cannot emerge while distractions remain.

The same is true for us. We are born with a unique seed, yet as circumstances shape us, we build identities to protect ourselves—constructing entire inner worlds and defending them at all costs. Over time, the seed becomes trapped and forgotten. Our exteriors harden. And it often takes the flames of consumption to burn away everything unnecessary, bringing us to humility and forcing us to look inward. When that moment comes, embrace it with gratitude, and look ahead.

As we close this week’s series, remember this: you have purpose. You may not recognize it yet, but all things unfold in their time. We were never meant to understand everything, nor were we given unlimited time here—so we must use the time we have well.

If you feel you’ve been wasting time, do not be discouraged. Some answers wait for the moment we are ready to see them. If you are choosing creation, thank you for contributing to the world. Continue to spread light, and be praised by your work (Proverbs 31:31).

And for those feeling the flames of consumption—understand that you are not beyond healing. You are not destined for pain. You can turn around at any moment. And if the flames seem to have destroyed everything, know this: beneath the ashes of what once was, seeds remain for a brighter future.

This weekend, choose a single “seed” in your life—one small place where a new forest can begin—and commit to tending it. Creation starts with the smallest spark.
Where Creation Collapses

December 10th, 2025

When we choose to act outside of our original design, we choose a life of consumption. Consumption on its own isn’t evil—God Himself is called a consuming fire (Deut. 4:24, Heb. 12:29). But when we live in a constant state of consumption, when it becomes our identity rather than a tool, the end of that path is always destruction. Consumption removes what’s in the way so something new can rise… but if we let it take the lead, it will remove far more than it was ever meant to touch.

The root of consumption is desire. And when desire stops being directed upward—toward purpose, truth, and God—we fall.

Many spiritual texts use the “heart” to describe the inner seat of emotion, but Scripture also speaks to the idea that the body carries multiple “centers” of knowing. One of those is what some call the “stomach brain”—the enteric nervous system. It’s directly shaped by emotion. This is why anxiety hits the stomach first. Why fear twists the bowels. Why so many of us end up thinking with our stomachs long before our minds ever enter the conversation.

This is usually where the spark of consumption begins—deep in the bowels.

A small flame.

A hunger.

A pull.

And like any flame, it looks for fuel.

Left unchecked, that flame will keep growing until it needs more than we can provide. And when it grows beyond us, it begins to burn the things around us. This is why Scripture’s description of hell as the “bowels of the earth” is so fitting—because when we live in a constant state of consumption, it truly does feel like an unending internal torment. A fire that never stops eating.

But here’s the truth: consumption was never meant to be a lifestyle.

It’s a means—a temporary act that clears a path for renewal. When used properly, it is part of God’s will. God consumes the false layers we wear so our true identity can be revealed. He purifies us from the parts of ourselves that were never meant to define us.

The danger begins when we become the consumer.

When consumption becomes an identity instead of a temporary process.

When we forget who we are and only see what we lack.

A life shaped by that identity will eventually lead to poverty, addiction, infidelity, resentment, and hatred. It always starts small… harmless… manageable. But if left unchecked, it grows into an uncontrollable desire that redefines how we see the world.

The clear opposite of consumption is creation—but creation feels impossible when all we recognize around us is waste. To break the cycle of consumerism, we must recover the virtue that stands between destruction and creation:

Temperance.

Temperance is more than denying ourselves luxuries; it’s the restoration of internal authority. It’s reclaiming our ability to direct our desires instead of being dragged by them. When we are deep inside the blaze of consumption, temperance feels like a single drop of cool water. And a single drop against a wildfire is not enough.

This is why we need others.

Those who walk with us bring their own drops of water—encouragement, truth, accountability. But honesty is essential. If we are dishonest about the size of our flame, the people trying to help us will get burned. Not because they aren’t strong, but because they were fighting a fire they couldn’t see.

This isn’t a warning to isolate ourselves.

It’s a reminder: the flame is not us.

We’re just trapped inside of it.

So the first step toward escaping consumption is simply to see the flame for what it is. Once we recognize that it is not our identity, we can begin to move toward becoming creators again.

Start small.

Find a single place in life where a seed of hope still exists.

Put energy there.

It won’t feel good—reshaping a life never does. And if comfort is what we seek, we’ll slide right back into the patterns that consumed us. But if truth is what we seek—if we surrender the version of ourselves built out of fear—God will begin to place the right people in our lives. People with living water in their hands.

When they arrive, lead with honesty.

Yes, we’ve been burnt before.

And yes, letting others in feels dangerous.

But whether we choose the fire or the water, we will feel pain.

The difference is simple:

One path leads to redemption.

The other leads to destruction.

Which will we choose today?
The Roots of Creation

December 8th, 2025

There was once a great tree that stood alone in a field. It stretched toward the sky, its branches heavy with sweet fruit. Within the tree lived a family who had dwelt there for generations. The tree fed them, sheltered them, and kept them warm in a cold world.

For as long as their history reached, this family journeyed out into the world to observe life and bring back stories. Some even returned with gifts from distant lands.

One day an adventurer returned with news of a faraway place where families lived not in one shared structure, but in many small ones—each with space of their own.
“Well, the family has grown,” the father said. “Perhaps we should make use of the land around us.”
So they cut down a branch from the tree and built smaller homes.

As they expanded, they built farther and farther from the tree, for its great roots made it impossible to lay foundations too close.

Another traveler eventually returned, carrying exotic vegetables and fragrant herbs. He showed how these new treasures could expand their meals.
“These taste incredible…but how will we get more?” the father asked.
The traveler presented foreign soil and seeds. Knowing what needed to be done, the family cut another branch and built gardens. The foods grew, and they rejoiced.

Then came a third traveler with stories of war in a distant land. He described an enemy invasion and the weapons used to fight them off.
The father grew afraid. “What if someone came to harm us?”
Driven by fear, the family cut down branch after branch until the tree stood barren. With the wood they built high walls and stockpiled weapons, preparing for a threat that had never arrived.

Years passed. The family forgot the tree that once sustained them.
Still barren, it remained standing—silent, unmoving.

Then a great storm came.
The homes were too weak and collapsed.
The foreign crops withered, unable to survive the climate.
The walls, built to protect them, caved inward and crushed many.
The weapons they forged could not defend them from the wind.

When the storm ended, the survivors cursed the land. They looked at the lifeless tree, saw no value in it, and moved far away. And once again, the tree stood alone in the field.

Years later, an old traveler returned—one who had delayed coming home because he had nothing new to show. But when he arrived, all he found was the tree.

He took refuge within it, gathering scraps left scattered on the ground and rebuilding a home inside its hollow.
In time, the tree began to grow new branches. It bore fruit again.
The traveler felt at home.
The tree was grand once more.

Last week we touched on the difference between being a consumer and being a creator. Today we dive deeper.

It is in human nature to create. It is also in our nature to want more. Neither force is wrong—they are simply part of our design. But the distinction matters because we are always choosing one or the other, consciously or not. Life is movement, and every choice sets another in motion.

The Preacher reminds us in Ecclesiastes that all things under the sun fade—that our greatest works will eventually be forgotten. Yet even in their impermanence, the actions of creation and consumption shape the experience we call life.

Consumption is a cycle without end, driven by desire without gratitude.
Wanting more is not the issue.
It is the lack of gratitude that corrupts us.

When caught in consumption, we mistake abundance for lack. We believe ourselves empty even when our hands are full. We cling to fears that were never ours, and those fears drive us to consume even more.

Eventually, we exhaust our own resources. Then we exhaust the people around us. Consumption does not care what it takes—only that it continues. And the more it is fed, the more it grows.
Life becomes external.
We stop thinking clearly.
And the only way out is to look inward.

Creation is the opposite movement.
When we shift our energy toward creation, fear transforms into possibility.
From the outside, it may appear as appetite or ambition—but inside, the spirit becomes full. The fruits of our labor become secondary. Often we forget we’re even creating at all.

Creation generates more creation.
A small act of kindness becomes a harvest of unexpected outcomes.
Yet even then, we are not meant to cling to the achievement. It is still only a moment—one meant to be enjoyed and then released. What matters is the joy of building, not the permanence of what was built.

As you enter the week, hold these questions close:

Where have you been creating?
Where have you been consuming?

Next, we will explore how to recognize the signs of unhealthy consumption.
For now, look closely at your actions in this moment and ask:

“Does this promote growth, or is this just a means to an end?”

There is no end.
Only the gift of this moment and what you choose to build within it.

Which side will you choose today?
Power, Purpose and Will

December 5th, 2025

People are not intrinsically evil, though sometimes we may believe that we are. Though we are not all-powerful, we are still very powerful—and yet we often call ourselves powerless. We assume identities in our daily lives that do not truly belong to us, and when others contradict those identities, we are quick to defend them. This is the dilemma of human existence. We do not fully recognize the power given to us, yet we place ourselves atop our own lives, deciding what is important, what matters, and what we can achieve. The irony is that everything we truly need has already been given to us—but the fall of man shows that we seek more even when we already have it all. This is the symbolism of Adam and Eve. They existed in a perfect world, yet they wanted more than what was made available. Still, this yearning for greater things is not evil—it is the will of God. It is only when we pursue self-propagation for its own sake that we begin to experience the fall.

Human beings are the most unique species in the known universe—not simply because we are bipedal or capable of invention, but because we are a product of both heaven and earth. That union forms the human soul. Unlike other creatures, this is a gift uniquely given to humans. We are truly the image of God, yet that does not make us eternal. The “breath,” as Scripture mentions, is the life force that comes from the Source above all things. God is often described as a being, but He is Being itself—existence itself. It is impossible to prove or disprove God, because to do so we would need to quantify existence itself, which is beyond human reasoning. We see the world only through a subjective lens, which limits us. Yet within these limits, humans have achieved incredible feats. History shows that in every generation there are dreamers who believe in the impossible—and their dreams are realized when they think beyond themselves. This is what it means to act in His will.

As we move through our lives, it is helpful to hold one thought in our hearts through every situation:

“Not my will, but Your will.”

The creation story gives insight into that will. We are called to produce, to increase, and to be stewards of the earth—to govern it, care for it, and bring good into the world. We were given power for a purpose. It is time to begin seeing ourselves as powerful individuals with intent. Giving honor to Him often comes through helping others; it is our actions, not our possessions, that matter most. We have been given a promise of inheritance—not a fleeting reward on an arbitrary day. What we deserve is already within our grasp; we need only surrender to this truth and accept the gifts that await.

What will you do for Him today? How will you use the power already given to you to produce, to serve, to create?
When Evil Calls

December 3rd, 2025
All actions for mankind begin as a thought. When we live within creation, in flow, we are able to draw from its limitless potential and imagine great things. The words of Christ echo this sentiment: “But with God all things are possible.” – Matthew 19:26.

Humans, of course, have limitations in this natural world, as we are not God, but we carry His essence—and that is what gives the power of imagination. With this power, however, comes the ability to form evil. This is the origin of what we call the uncreated. In the beginning, all things operated in divine order. God loved us so much that He gave us the power of free will. With it, we could choose to operate within His order—or not. This connects to the ideas discussed in the earlier contentment vs. complacency post. When we reject divine order, we choose rebellion—and this is when evil is first conceived.

Not all evil presents itself as evil at first. Often, it appears as curiosity, drawing attention away from order. This is necessary for evil because it cannot exist without creation. That is why it is, in nature, “uncreated.” Uncreated things carry no essence of God, and good intentions are absent. Instead, they often masquerade as good to gain acceptance. Evil is viral, seeking survival by any means—even at the cost of its host.

When humans act strictly for selfish reasons, they participate in this evil nature. Recall when Jesus calls Peter “Satan” for attempting to convince Him not to do the will of His Father—a selfless act essential for the world. This illustrates the importance of distinguishing between objective and subjective perceptions of evil. Evil will attempt to manipulate, convincing individuals to look out only for themselves, while its own survival is the true aim.

Most people rely heavily on personal feelings when judging situations or others. This approach is flawed. As Scripture says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.” – Jeremiah 17:9. Allowing emotions to dictate thought gives evil the opportunity to take root before manifesting outwardly. Discernment is necessary: is something objectively evil, or does it only feel so? God is the ultimate judge and can guide us in recognizing what is truly good or evil. Taking matters entirely into our own hands leads to the tragedies of the world.

It bears repeating: humans are not intrinsically evil. We assume evil identities. No one is immune to corruption while placing themselves as the ultimate authority. Reasoning and hearts are flawed when operating outside divine order. This is why it is critical not to elevate oneself above the highest authority. Yet, blind adherence to collective ideals is also unwise. An individual can be wrong, a group can be blind—but only the Spirit of the highest order guides in all truth. – John 16:13

As the week unfolds, pause to consider the origin of your actions. In moments of choice, ask yourself:
- “Are these thoughts truly my own?”
- “Am I reacting to sustain myself, or acting for the whole?”
Remember: evil exists only when allowed to. Even if a moment of evil occurs, it does not define the actor. Evil is uncreated; it requires participation to survive. Recognizing this truth diminishes its control. Evil is at most a moment of vulnerability manifesting as an unbecoming act. The most powerful response is not to dwell, but to move forward and create good.
Created Good, Formed Broken

December 1st, 2025

In the creation story we are given an account of how the known universe was made. But we’re also given deep concepts worth exploring. Scripture tells us that God created everything, and the last thing He created was mankind. The language used is poetic and intentional: everything God made is called “good.”

Yet when we look at the world through our own eyes, everything does not appear good. In fact, a pessimistic view sees mostly what is broken. Does that mean the creation story is just a fairytale meant to comfort children? I don’t think so. I believe it offers hints about how our universe actually works.

We live in a world that demands evidence before belief. But who decides what is “real”?
If it’s the individual, then reality is shaped entirely by mindset.
If it’s a group in authority, then reality becomes a collective agreement we submit to.

But as we will discover, not all real things require evidence — at least not evidence that the average mind recognizes — and much exists far beyond our understanding.

One of the biggest questions people ask, regardless of religion, spirituality, or atheism, is whether God is real. And if so, the next question naturally follows:
“If God is real, why does He allow evil?”

Today we want to go deeper. The real question is:
“Did God create evil?”

Sit with that for a moment.

The creation account says God created all things and that all He created was good. Yet evil clearly exists, so where did it come from?
If we reason through this carefully, we find that evil is not created — evil is uncreated.

In the creation story we are told that man was “formed.” Humanity came into being only after the combination of dust (matter) and spirit (breath). This choice of words matters. It shows there’s a difference between something being created out of nothing and something being formed from what already exists.

This distinction leads us toward understanding the true origin of evil.

In many esoteric traditions, all things begin in the mind — a principle known as mentalism. When paired with the principle of correspondence (“as above, so below”), we might say symbolically that the universe is the thought of God. Scripture tells us we are made in the “image of God,” which means, like any child, we carry traits of our Parent.

This doesn’t mean we are God — only that our natural impulse is to create.
But unlike God, we cannot create from nothing. We can only form what is already here.

This is why evil is not created; it is formed by those who perform evil acts. Evil feels unnatural to us because it goes against our original design. Evil is simply the absence of creation — a distortion, not a genesis.

Evil often looks like creation because it borrows from creation. It uses what’s already good as a host. But evil forms itself when we become consumers instead of creators — when we take in more than we give, when we destroy more than we build, when we reject the good that was already given to us.

This is why we must remember:
Our actions do not define who we are.
We define our actions.

A person can commit evil without becoming evil. But if someone fully aligns themselves with the spirit of destruction — refusing good again and again — they eventually fall into it. It is continual rejection, not a single act, that traps a person.

We live in a troubled world, but evil can only continue if we allow it to.
Even a strong sense of justice can blind us. Sometimes in fighting for our rights or the rights of others, we close our ears to anyone who disagrees — and this is exactly what evil wants. Evil thrives when we become fractured, complacent, and convinced our narrow view is the only one.

Human beings are not intrinsically bad. We were created good.
We are capable of both good and evil — and we must choose good.
This means our struggle is never truly with another person.
Our real battle is with something far deeper, something ancient, something that fights for survival within us.

This battle existed long before us and will continue long after we are gone.
But if we accept this truth, we can begin to heal.

This week we will explore how to recognize the difference between good and evil — between creation and destruction, between the formed and the unformed.

As we end today’s post, we invite you to reflect:
In the struggle you’re facing right now, are you being a creator or a consumer?

As you enter the week, hold these questions close: