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FROM ICHABOD TO GLORY

FeaturedAllen Frederick Leave a comment

A 14 day journey back to the presence of the Lord

Title: From Ichabod to Glory – The Devotional Is Finally Here

For almost a year, From Ichabod to Glory has been sitting quietly on the launch pad.

I wrote this devotional for believers who feel like the glory has lifted—who are tired, discouraged, or just going through the motions—and who long to experience God’s presence in a fresh way again.

This is a 14‑day journey from emptiness to encounter, from “Ichabod” (the glory has departed) to Glory.

Each day gives you:

  • a Scripture passage
  • a short teaching
  • a heart‑level reflection
  • and a simple prayer

If you’ve been saying, “I know God is real, but I don’t feel Him like I used to,” this devotional was written with you in mind.

👉 You can get your copy here: From Ichabod to Glory: A 14 day journey to fulness in Christ

My goal is simple: 30 readers in the next 30 days—one person a day choosing to step back into the glory of His presence.

If you know someone who needs this, would you share the link with them today?

Thank you for walking this journey with me.

—Allen

WHEN THE PULPIT STOPS LISTENING

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The Church does not need more religious noise. It needs the courage to hear—and obey—the living voice of God.

There is a kind of preaching that can fill a room and still leave the soul empty.

It can be researched, rehearsed, and rhetorically flawless. It can explain the ancient world, defend sound doctrine, and land precisely on schedule. People may admire it, quote it, and share it. Yet when the final amen fades, nothing has moved. No hidden allegiance has been exposed. No wounded conscience has been restored. No clear act of obedience has begun.

The sermon carried information but not encounter.

This is the quiet danger facing the modern pulpit: not an absence of biblical language, but an absence of holy listening. We have become skilled at preparing messages for God while neglecting to wait before God. In doing so, we risk treating Scripture as material to manage rather than the place where the risen Christ addresses His people. Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27, KJV).

A pulpit forfeits its prophetic credibility when it presumes to speak for God before it has listened humbly to God.

The Difference Between a Message and a Word

A message can be assembled. A word must be received.

This does not diminish study, discipline, or theological training. Careful interpretation honors Scripture. Sound doctrine protects the Church from confusion. Preparation is an act of stewardship. But none of these can replace dependence on the Holy Spirit. Tools become idols when they allow the messenger to feel no need for God.

The prophetic dimension of preaching is not theatrical intensity, private speculation, or the pursuit of novelty. It is the Spirit-enabled application of enduring truth to a present moment. It is the sacred intersection where the written Word confronts the actual condition of a people.

That kind of preaching does not merely ask, “What does this passage mean?” It also asks, “What must we now believe, abandon, endure, repair, or obey because this is true?”

Scripture: “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16, KJV). Paul also writes that the things of God are revealed “by his Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:10, KJV).

The Seduction of the Familiar

Experience is a valuable servant, but a dangerous master. It teaches patterns, builds instincts, and helps us avoid old mistakes. Yet experience can only report what has already happened. It cannot determine what God may require next.

Peter knew how to fish. He understood the water, the timing, the nets, and the labor. His empty boat was not the result of laziness; it was the limit of expertise. Then Jesus spoke an instruction that did not flatter Peter’s professional judgment. The carpenter told the fisherman where to cast.

Peter’s breakthrough began with one surrendered sentence: “Nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net” (Luke 5:5, KJV).

That is the hinge of discipleship. Faith does not require us to pretend we have no knowledge. It requires us to place what we know beneath the authority of the One who sees what we cannot.

Scripture: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6, KJV).

Many churches are exhausted because they keep casting from the same side of the boat. The calendar remains full, the machinery keeps turning, and familiar methods are defended with increasing intensity. But repetition is not faithfulness merely because it is familiar. Sometimes the most faithful thing a ministry can do is admit that an old method has become an empty net.

When Certainty Outruns Discernment

The friends of Job remind us that religious speech can be confident, coherent, and cruel. They possessed explanations for suffering, moral categories for behavior, and arguments about the character of God. What they lacked was permission to reduce Job’s pain to their formulas.

Their error was not that every sentence they spoke was false. Their error was that they forced partial truths onto a mystery they had not heard God explain.

Scripture: The Lord said to Eliphaz, “Ye have not spoken of me the thing that is right, as my servant Job hath” (Job 42:7, KJV).

This danger still lives in pulpits, podcasts, and private counsel. We can use theology to avoid compassion. We can label what we should lament. We can pronounce judgment where God has called us to sit in silence. A preacher who has not listened deeply may mistake certainty for authority and volume for anointing.

True prophetic speech is therefore marked by humility. It does not make the preacher larger; it makes Christ clearer. It does not manipulate people with claims of secret access. It remains accountable to Scripture, open to testing, and willing to be corrected: “Prove all things; hold fast that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21, KJV). Likewise, believers are told to “try the spirits whether they are of God” (1 John 4:1, KJV).

The Lamp Rarely Shows the Whole Road

We often want God to provide a floodlight when He has promised a lamp. A floodlight reveals the landscape. A lamp gives enough light for the next faithful step: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Psalm 119:105, KJV).

Abraham was called to leave before he knew every detail of the destination. God told him, “Get thee out of thy country… unto a land that I will shew thee” (Genesis 12:1, KJV), and Hebrews says, “he went out, not knowing whither he went” (Hebrews 11:8, KJV). Peter was told to cast before the catch appeared. Again and again, biblical obedience begins with sufficient light rather than complete explanation.

Our demand for certainty can become a respectable form of resistance. We tell ourselves we are waiting for clarity when we are actually postponing surrender. But direction often becomes clearer in motion. The path opens beneath obedient feet.

God does not always reveal the entire route. He reveals enough of Himself to make the next step trustworthy.

Leaves Are Not the Harvest

Leaves are not evil. They are simply not the harvest. Jesus warned that a tree is known by its fruit: “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them” (Matthew 7:20, KJV).

In the life of a church, leaves may look like attendance, branding, production quality, vocabulary, influence, and activity. These things can serve a healthy ministry, but they cannot prove one. Fruit is measured in transformed character and faithful conduct: repentance, reconciliation, courage, generosity, holiness, perseverance, mercy, and love. Paul names the fruit of the Spirit as “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance” (Galatians 5:22–23, KJV).

A ministry becomes spiritually barren when maintaining the appearance of life matters more than receiving the correction that produces life. It may celebrate reach while avoiding depth. It may defend its traditions while neglecting its neighbors. It may preach victory while its people remain unable to confess weakness or seek help.

The test of a living word is not whether it impresses the hearer. It is whether it creates room for the life of Christ to take form.

The Work of a Listening Church

Recovering a living pulpit is not the responsibility of preachers alone. Congregations can train leaders to perform by rewarding polish and resisting discomfort. If people demand inspiration without repentance, affirmation without correction, and certainty without mystery, they will eventually receive sermons designed to satisfy them rather than shepherd them.

A listening church cultivates a different appetite. It honors study but hungers for encounter. It tests spiritual claims without despising the Spirit. It welcomes conviction without surrendering to manipulation. It recognizes that the same Word may comfort the grieving, disturb the complacent, restrain the impulsive, and call the fearful forward.

Scripture: “Despise not prophesyings. Prove all things; hold fast that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:20–21, KJV). The goal is transformation, not mere exposure to words: “Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2, KJV).

Such a church asks better questions:

  • Are we becoming more like Christ, or merely more familiar with religious language?
  • What obedience has this truth made unavoidable?
  • Where have our methods become substitutes for trust?
  • Whose pain have our explanations ignored?
  • What fruit is the Spirit seeking to grow among us now?

Before the Next Sermon

The renewal of the pulpit may begin in a place no audience ever sees: a closed door, an open Bible, and a servant willing to become silent.

Before asking for a clever introduction, ask for a clean heart. Before searching for an illustration, search your motives. Before deciding what the people need to hear, allow the Word to address you first. The preacher must not stand above the text as its expert, but beneath it as its first hearer.

Scripture: “Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them” (1 Timothy 4:16, KJV). The preacher is also charged, “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15, KJV).

Then speak plainly. Refuse manufactured drama. Do not claim more certainty than God has given. Name sin without losing tenderness. Offer grace without removing the call to change. Scripture commands us to speak “the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15, KJV) and to let our speech be “alway with grace, seasoned with salt” (Colossians 4:6, KJV). Point beyond your insight to the Shepherd whose voice alone can lead people home.

The Church does not need less Scripture. It needs Scripture handled by people who tremble before its Author. It does not need less theology or less diligent preparation. It needs theology warmed by worship, preparation governed by prayer, and both proven in love. Nor does it need endless claims of revelation. It needs men and women who know the difference between divine prompting and personal impulse—and who possess the character to wait when God has not spoken.

Launch Again

Perhaps the emptiness of the nets is not evidence that God has abandoned the boat. Perhaps it is an invitation to listen again.

The answer may not be another program, louder promotion, or a more impressive platform. It may be a return to the simple, costly posture that marked Samuel’s calling: “Speak; for thy servant heareth” (1 Samuel 3:10, KJV).

When He speaks, the command may challenge experience. It may expose cherished habits. It may lead beyond the shore of control. But the voice that calls us into deeper water is the same voice that rules the sea. When Jesus rebuked the wind and said, “Peace, be still,” the wind ceased and there was a great calm (Mark 4:39, KJV).

The future of fruitful ministry will not belong to those who create the most noise. It will belong to those who hear clearly, test faithfully, and obey courageously.

Prayer: Lord, deliver us from words that have never passed through surrender. Teach us to receive Scripture with reverence, to discern Your leading with humility, and to obey without delay. Make our pulpits more than platforms and our churches more than gatherings. Let Your truth take root among us until the leaves give way to fruit. Amen.

PHARAOH’S ECONOMY: THE IRON FURNACE OF GOSHEN

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

THE SYSTEM BEHIND THE FURNACE

Long before Israel groaned beneath Egyptian taskmasters, Scripture portrayed Egypt as the iron furnace—a place where oppression’s heat sought to erase identity, extinguish hope, and forge a nation of slaves. Pharaoh’s economy was more than forced labor; it was a spiritual system fueled by fear, scarcity, and unrelenting demand. It measured worth by output, security by production, and peace by performance, offering predictable provision only in exchange for freedom and rest. The Lord declared, “But the LORD hath brought you forth out of the iron furnace, even out of Egypt” (Deuteronomy 4:20). Egypt was not merely a nation; it was a system—a worldview that still presses upon hearts today.

GOSHEN’S IRON FURNACE

When Pharaoh commanded, “Ye shall no more give the people straw to make brick… yet ye shall require of them the same number of bricks” (Exodus 5:7–8), he exposed the heart of his economy. Scarcity became a weapon, pressure intensified, and rest was condemned as laziness. The laborer was blamed for what the system withheld. Under Pharaoh, survival depended on production, worth on yield, and security on output. Egypt’s flesh pots promised regular meals, but demanded peace, dignity, and freedom in return. It was slavery masquerading as stability.

When God shattered that yoke with an outstretched arm, He did more than move a people; He revealed an entirely different economy. Yet Pharaoh’s system had marked their minds, and its imprint followed them into the wilderness.

WHEN BONDAGE FEELS FAMILIAR

In the barren wilderness, Israel’s first severe test of provision exposed bondage’s lingering wound. Rather than look to the God who had divided the Red Sea, they looked back through the distorted lens of fear and scarcity. They cried, “Would to God we had died in Egypt, when we sat by the flesh pots, and when we did eat bread to the full” (Exodus 16:3). Their lament reveals a sobering truth: under financial and emotional pressure, the human heart often chooses familiar bondage over the vulnerability of unfamiliar freedom.

Bondage trains people to crave predictability. Pharaoh guaranteed food, though it was purchased with sweat and blood. The wilderness offered no visible guarantee; survival required trust in an unseen God and faith beyond human control. Israel preferred the memory of Egypt’s stability to the reality of God’s freedom.

God answered their panic not with a warehouse, savings plan, or strategic reserve, but with a daily lesson in dependence: “Behold, I will rain bread from heaven for you… that I may prove them” (Exodus 16:4). Manna confronted the urge to hoard and taught that security rests in the Provider, not the stockpile. When they stored it to create their own safety, it rotted and bred worms (Exodus 16:20). God was teaching them that His word—not human accumulation—sustains life.

GOD’S WILDERNESS ECONOMY

The wilderness became God’s classroom. There He revealed an economy not of excess, but of sufficiency; not of accumulation, but of trust; not upheld by human effort, but by divine faithfulness.

For forty years, their clothes did not wear out and their feet did not swell. Scripture declares, “Thy raiment waxed not old upon thee, neither did thy foot swell, these forty years” (Deuteronomy 8:4). This was not abundance, but preservation; not luxury, but longevity; not excess, but enough.

By the brook Cherith, God fed Elijah morning and evening: “And the ravens brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening” (1 Kings 17:6). For the widow of Zarephath, “The barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail” (1 Kings 17:16). When Israel thirsted, God drew water from the rock, “causing waters to run down like rivers” (Psalm 78:16). When enemies surrounded David, God prepared a table before him and made his cup overflow (Psalm 23:5).

This is God’s economy: daily bread, preserved garments, renewed strength, unexpected provision, and peace that withstands pressure. It rests not on human leverage, but on divine faithfulness.

PHARAOH’S MODERN TASKMASTER

Pharaoh’s economic spirit did not remain in antiquity. It still presses on hearts through inflation, compounding debt, stagnant wages, rising costs, and narrowing margins. The modern command echoes the ancient one: produce the same number of bricks, but gather your own straw.

Culture insists that financial strain can be escaped through greater effort, higher credentials, more degrees, and relentless hustle. Yet as labor expands, peace contracts. Anxiety rises, families fracture, and rest becomes a luxury. The system demands devotion, persuading people that safety depends on education, achievement, or wealth.

In such a climate, many believers resemble Israel in the desert. As financial pressure mounts, we are tempted to retreat to the world’s methods—secular wisdom, endless striving, and self-reliance—rather than enter God’s economy of faith. Because the wilderness feels uncertain, we exchange the freedom of trust for the bondage of self-sufficiency and plead again for Egypt’s predictable bread.

FREEDOM THROUGH TRUST, NOT CONTROL

The Gospel of Jesus Christ breaks Pharaoh’s spiritual and practical dominion. Freedom from financial anxiety does not come by mastering worldly systems, nor is it reserved for those with advanced degrees or elite credentials. Scripture confronts self-reliance directly: “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5).

On the Mount, Jesus renewed the wilderness lesson. Pointing to the lilies and the birds, He dismantled the tyranny of economic worry: “Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God… and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:32–33). Living by God’s provision is not indolence; it is refusing to make labor an idol. Human effort does not sustain life—God’s word does. “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4).

THE GOD WHO DOES NOT FORSAKE HIS OWN

Every believer reaches a point when God’s promises must move from page to experience. It is one thing to quote, “My God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). It is another to enter a season when God is your only source and proves His promise true. Many recite the verse; fewer embrace the obedience through which His faithfulness is revealed.

There was a season when the Lord called me to follow without guarantees, a safety net, or any plan beyond His leading. In that season, He provided each day in ways human logic cannot explain. It was not abundance or luxury, but enough—and within that enough, I found a peace deeper than I had ever known. God’s provision ceased to be theory. It became present, personal, and faithful.

Scripture summons witness after witness to this truth. When the blind man cried out, Jesus restored his sight: “And immediately he received his sight” (Mark 10:52). At Lazarus’s tomb, Jesus commanded, “Lazarus, come forth” (John 11:43). By the brook, God sent Elijah bread and meat: “And the ravens brought him bread and flesh” (1 Kings 17:6). For the starving widow, “The barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail” (1 Kings 17:16).

Jesus grounded this truth in everyday life. An earthly father does not answer a child’s request for a fish with a stone: “How much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him?” (Matthew 7:11). The birds neither sow nor gather into barns, yet the Father feeds them: “Are ye not much better than they?” (Matthew 6:26). And before we ask, He already knows: “For your Father knoweth what things ye have need of” (Matthew 6:8).

These are not poetic comforts, but realities—testimonies lived by those who dared to trust Him beyond Egypt’s borders.

Here the psalmist gives the fitting conclusion to Pharaoh’s economy and God’s provision. After a lifetime of walking with the Lord, David declared:

“I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.”
Psalm 37:25

This is not theory. It is testimony.

The iron furnace of Goshen is real. So are its pressure and scarcity. But the God who delivers His people is more real still. When He brings you out, He does not abandon you in the wilderness. He feeds, clothes, sustains, carries, and provides—not because you are strong, but because He is faithful; not because you possess abundance, but because He is enough.

When you leave Pharaoh’s economy and enter God’s provision, you discover what every obedient believer eventually learns: God truly supplies all your needs. Daily. Faithfully. Completely.

For He never forsakes His own.

Facebook Pharisees, Digital False Prophets

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

An editorial for the age of the algorithm—

There was a time when false prophets needed a crowd, a marketplace, or a pulpit to spread their delusions. Now they just need Wi‑Fi.

Open Facebook, scroll for five minutes, and you’ll meet them: the self‑appointed seers, the “thus‑saith‑the‑Lord” status updates, the viral rebukes dressed up as “discernment,” the spiritual hot takes that sound more like clickbait than cross‑bearing. It’s a strange new world where anyone can claim divine authority with a ring light and a strong opinion.

Scripture, however, is not surprised.

Jesus warned, “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves” (Matthew 7:15). The medium has changed—from hillside sermons to social media feeds—but the danger has not. The wolves have simply learned how to use hashtags.

The rise of Facebook Pharisees

Let’s start with the “Facebook Pharisees”—those who weaponize Bible verses in comment sections, not to build up, but to win arguments and score public righteousness points.

The Pharisees of Jesus’ day were not cartoon villains. They were serious, religious, biblically literate people. Yet Jesus said of them, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me” (Matthew 15:8}). They loved the appearance of holiness, the respect of the crowd, the feeling of being right. Social media has given that same spirit a global platform.

You’ve seen it:

  • The thread where someone vulnerably shares a struggle, and instead of compassion, they get a barrage of proof‑texts and cold rebukes.
  • The “discernment” post that names and shames other believers, not to restore them, but to rally a tribe.
  • The public call‑out that conveniently forgets Jesus’ instructions about going to a brother privately first (Matthew 18:15}).

Jesus described Pharisees as those who “tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger” (Matthew 23:4}). That’s what happens when we use Facebook to pile guilt, shame, and spiritual pressure on others, while our own hearts remain untouched by grace.

The Facebook Pharisee is more concerned with being seen as doctrinally pure than being known as Christlike. They forget that “the aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith” ({1 Timothy 1:5}). Truth without love is not biblical boldness; it’s spiritual brutality.

Digital false prophets and the platform problem

If the Facebook Pharisee misuses truth, the digital false prophet distorts it.

We live in an age where anyone can start a page, call themselves “Prophet So‑and‑So,” and begin declaring dreams, visions, and “urgent words” to thousands of followers. Jesus’ warning feels painfully current: “Many false prophets will arise and lead many astray” (Matthew 24:11}).

False prophets are not new. Jeremiah had to confront them in his day:

“I have heard what the prophets have said who prophesy lies in my name, saying, ‘I have dreamed, I have dreamed!’ … They are prophesying the delusions of their own minds.”
(Jeremiah 23:25–26})

Social media has simply amplified their reach. A “word from the Lord” can now be shared, liked, and believed by millions before anyone asks the most basic biblical question: Did it come true? God’s standard is clear: “When a prophet speaks in the name of the Lord, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word that the Lord has not spoken” (Deuteronomy 18:22}).

Yet online, failed prophecies are rarely repented of. They are quietly deleted, re‑framed, or buried under the next “urgent update.” The platform continues. The followers remain. The algorithm rewards engagement, not accuracy.

Digital false prophets often share common traits:

They prioritize visibility over accountability.
They operate without a local church, elders, or real spiritual oversight. But Scripture assumes prophets are tested in community: “Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others weigh what is said” (1 Corinthians 14:29}). Online, there is often no “others” to weigh—only fans to applaud.

They center the message on prosperity and personal breakthrough.
God does bless, but when every “word” is about money, success, and “your next level,” we’ve drifted from the biblical pattern. True prophetic ministry calls people to repentance, holiness, and faithfulness. False prophets, by contrast, “heal the wound of my people lightly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14}).

They use fear and urgency to manipulate.
“Something terrible is coming—only those who sow a seed will be protected.” That’s not biblical prophecy; that’s spiritual blackmail. The gospel is not a subscription service you pay to avoid disaster. God does not sell protection through PayPal links.

They rarely preach the cross.
Paul resolved “to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2}). If a digital prophet’s feed is full of dreams, dates, and dramatic declarations but empty of the cross, repentance, and the hope of resurrection, something is deeply off.

The algorithm is not the Holy Spirit

One of the most subtle dangers in this age is confusing virality with validity.

A post goes viral, and we assume God must be in it. A “word” gets shared 100,000 times, and we treat it as confirmation. But the Bible never equates popularity with truth. In fact, Jesus says, “Woe to you, when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets” (Luke 6:26}).

The algorithm is designed to reward outrage, novelty, and emotional intensity. The Holy Spirit, by contrast, produces “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self‑control” (Galatians 5:22–23}). If a feed is full of anger, fear, and division—even if it’s draped in Bible verses—it may be driven more by the flesh than by the Spirit.

We need to recover a simple discipline: “Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God” (1 John 4:1}). Testing means:

  • Comparing every teaching with the whole counsel of Scripture, not just isolated verses.
  • Watching the fruit of a person’s life over time, not just the flair of their latest post.
  • Asking whether the message leads us to deeper love for Christ, greater obedience, and genuine humility—or just deeper obsession with signs, predictions, and personalities.

The Bereans were commended because they “examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true” (Acts 17:11}). If they tested the apostle Paul, we can certainly test our favorite Facebook prophet.

When we “love to have it so”

Here’s the uncomfortable part: false prophets and Facebook Pharisees don’t exist in a vacuum. They thrive because we follow them.

Jeremiah said, “The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests rule at their direction; my people love to have it so” ({Jeremiah 5:31}). That line cuts deep. Sometimes we prefer the drama of sensational “words” to the slow, steady work of discipleship. We’d rather have spiritual entertainment than spiritual formation.

We click, we share, we comment, we feed the very voices that confuse us. Then we wonder why our faith feels scattered and anxious.

The truth is, God sometimes allows false voices to flourish as a test: “For the Lord your God is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul” (Deuteronomy 13:3}). The question is not just, “Are they false?” but “What does my attraction to them reveal about my heart?”

Do I chase prophetic drama because I’m bored with simple obedience?
Do I crave spiritual celebrities because I’ve neglected the ordinary means of grace—Scripture, prayer, fellowship, sacrament?
Do I prefer outrage posts because they let me feel righteous without actually repenting?

These are not comfortable questions, but they are necessary ones.

A different way to be online

So what does faithfulness look like in the age of Facebook Pharisees and digital false prophets?

First, we anchor ourselves in Scripture.
“You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32}). The more deeply we know the Word, the less easily we are swayed by spiritual trends. We don’t need a constant stream of “new revelation” when we haven’t yet obeyed the revelation we already have.

Second, we stay rooted in real community.
Online voices can be helpful, but they are not a substitute for a local church, pastors, and brothers and sisters who actually know our lives. The New Testament assumes believers are joined to a body where gifts are tested, character is seen, and accountability is real (Hebrews 10:24–25}).

Third, we practice humility in our own posting.
Before we hit “post,” we can ask: Is this building up or tearing down? Is this about Christ or about me? Am I speaking as one who will “give an account for every careless word” (Matthew 12:36})? We don’t have to be silent, but we do have to be sober.

Fourth, we refuse to participate in public stoning.
There is a place for warning against false teaching—that’s biblical. Paul did it (Acts 20:29–31}). But there is also a way of “discernment” that becomes a sport of humiliation. When we delight in exposing others more than we grieve over sin, we have slipped into the spirit of the Pharisee who prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men” (Luke 18:11}).

Finally, we fix our eyes on Jesus, not on the feed.
The writer of Hebrews calls us to be “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2}). Social media constantly invites us to look at ourselves, our brand, our enemies, our fears. The gospel invites us to look at Christ—crucified, risen, reigning—and to let His voice be louder than any timeline.

Conclusion: less spectacle, more Savior

The Church does not need more Facebook Pharisees or digital false prophets. We need ordinary, faithful believers who quietly love God, love neighbor, and refuse to let the algorithm disciple their souls.

False prophets will continue to arise. Pharisaical spirits will continue to comment. The feed will continue to churn. But in the midst of it, God’s call remains the same:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37}).
“Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” (Galatians 5:16}).
“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16}).

In an age of digital noise, that kind of quiet, rooted faith may not go viral—but it will endure. And in the end, when every platform has faded and every feed has gone silent, it won’t be the Facebook Pharisees or the digital false prophets who stand. It will be those who heard the Shepherd’s voice, tested every other voice by His Word, and chose, day after day, to follow Him.



This has been “{A View From the Nest} and that is the way I see it. What say you?

Who’s Guarding the Tomb of Jesus?

Allen Frederick Leave a comment
A Call for the Church to Return to the Living Christ

The Borrowed Tomb and the Fear Surrounding It

“And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and laid it in his own new tomb which he had hewn out of the rock; and he rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb, and departed.” Matthew 27:59–60

Jesus was laid in a borrowed tomb cut from stone — a place meant for the dead, not for the Lord of life. Wrapped in linen and sealed behind a stone, He appeared to be at the end of the story, yet fear still lingered around Him. Herod feared His influence, the chief priests feared His promise, and Rome feared His followers. So they posted guards, sealed the tomb, and tried to contain the One who had already said, “I will rise again.”

They feared His body might be stolen and His resurrection proclaimed. They feared a rumor, a movement, a miracle. But no fear, stone, soldier, or seal could hold the risen Lord. Death could not keep Him. The grave could not restrain Him. The tomb could not silence Him. He walked out of the place they tried to secure.

Yet today, the church often attempts what Rome could not do.

We carve out our own “tombs” — leather-bound, gold-leafed, printed, indexed, and wrapped in doctrinal linen — and call them the canon. We treat Scripture not as a witness to the Living Word, but as His container. We wrap Jesus in pages and call it reverence. We seal Him behind interpretations and call it orthodoxy. We post guards named Tradition, Control, Suspicion, and Fear, insisting that God speaks only in the past tense.

Still, the angels’ words continue to answer every attempt to confine the living Christ:
“Why seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen.” Luke 24:5–6

The Danger of a Past-Tense Christ

Jesus warned the Pharisees in words that still speak to every generation:

“You search the Scriptures, for in them you think you have eternal life; and these are they which testify of Me. But you are not willing to come to Me that you may have life.” John 5:39–40

They studied the text but missed the Person. They honored the words while ignoring the voice. They revered the scroll but rejected the Savior. The modern church repeats that error whenever it says, “We know God only by what He has said,” as though the risen Christ stopped speaking when the apostles died.

Yet Jesus promised the continuing ministry of the Spirit:

“When He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth… He will speak… He will declare to you the things that are to come.” John 16:13

The Spirit has not retired, the Shepherd has not gone silent, and the Head of the Church has not stepped aside.

The living Christ still leads, speaks, knocks, and calls His people into fellowship with Him.

Sewing the Veil Back Together

When Jesus died, the temple veil was torn from top to bottom — not by human effort, but by God Himself.

“And behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.” Matthew 27:51

The torn veil declared one thing: access. Through Christ alone, the Father opened unrestricted, unmediated, unguarded access to Himself.

But religion often tries to sew the veil back together. The Pharisees did it by laying unbearable burdens on others:

“You travel land and sea to win one convert, and when he is won, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves.” Matthew 23:15

They wrapped God in rules, rituals, and requirements; they wrapped people in expectations, traditions, and fear; and they wrapped truth in layers of human authority.

Today, we can wrap Jesus in the burial cloths of catechisms, doctrinal statements, theological systems, Reformation language, dissertations, and denominational fences. We stitch the veil with academic thread and call it faithfulness, placing barriers between God and His people that neither we nor our ancestors could bear.

But the Gospel remains simple:
Jesus died for our sins. Jesus rose from the dead. Jesus alone opens the way into the Holy of Holies.

The way into God’s presence does not rest on catechisms, confessions, doctrinal precision, theological pedigree, denominational loyalty, or intellectual mastery of Scripture.

Jesus Himself is the way, the truth, and the life. John 14:6

Not merely the Bible about Him — but Christ within us.

Christ in Us — Not Christ Confined to the Pages

Paul did not say, “Christ in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John is the hope of glory.”
He said:

“Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Colossians 1:27

Reading about Jesus is not the same as walking with Him, studying His life is not the same as hearing His voice, and knowing His teachings is not the same as knowing His presence.

The Gospel was never meant to remain a museum exhibit; it was meant to become a living encounter with the risen Christ.

The Closed Door of the Church

One of Revelation’s most sobering images is not a rebellious world, but a closed church:

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock.” Revelation 3:20

Jesus is not knocking on the door of unbelievers; He is knocking on the door of believers. He is not outside the world in this image; He is outside the church that has shut Him out. He is not asking for a platform from which to be displayed; He is asking for a table where fellowship can be restored. He is not seeking a pulpit for performance; He is seeking communion with His people. He is not offering a lecture from a distance; He is offering the shared intimacy of a meal.

The risen Christ desires to tabernacle with His people — to dwell, dine, speak, guide, comfort, correct, and commune. Yet He will not force His way past the guards we place at the tomb, shout over our programs, or break through the stone of our fear; instead, He knocks, calls, and waits.

Return to Your First Love

The church at Ephesus had doctrine, discipline, endurance, and order. Still, Jesus said: “Nevertheless, I have this against you, that you have left your first love.” Revelation 2:4 Although they possessed many marks of religious faithfulness, they had lost the One who mattered most.

That is the danger of a tomb-guarding church: we can honor the Christ of history while neglecting the Christ who is present, defend the Word of God while resisting the voice of God, and preach the resurrection while living as though He remains sealed behind stone.

But the risen Lord calls us back — not to a memory, doctrine, or system, but to Himself. He calls us to open the door, welcome His presence, hear His voice, dine with Him, and return to our first love.

The Final Call: Stop Guarding the Tomb

The question is no longer, “Who guarded the tomb then?”
The question is, “Who is guarding it now?”

We must ask whether we are the ones keeping Jesus sealed behind tradition, wrapped in doctrinal linen, locked inside the pages, held outside the church door, and prevented from speaking, leading, interrupting, and reigning among us.

And perhaps the deeper question is this: Where did you bury Jesus? Have you buried Jesus beneath your fear, your theology, your suspicion of the Spirit, your comfort with silence, or your preference for control?

The risen Christ will not remain boxed, sealed, scheduled, or scripted; He walks into gatherings rather than graveyards, breathes on disciples rather than doctrines, knocks on doors rather than pulpits, and speaks to hearts, not only through pages.

And He is knocking now. The final word belongs to the risen Christ Himself: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.” Revelation 3:20



This has been “A View From the Nest,” and that is the way I see it! What say you?

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Hearts of Stone or Hearts of Flesh

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

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How our response to the Holy Spirit reveals our true condition

This reflection argues that spiritual maturity is revealed not only by what we believe, but by how quickly we yield when the Holy Spirit speaks. A softened heart responds today; a hardened heart delays, negotiates, or resists.

Introduction

No it Few things reveal the condition of the heart more clearly than the way we respond to the Lord’s leading. In medicine, heart disease is monitored with electrodes, screens, and alarms that track rhythm, pressure, and electrical activity. In the Kingdom, the Great Physician uses a deeper measure: our responsiveness to His voice (Hebrews 3:15). Scripture exposes hardness not to leave us fearful, but to move us toward the One who can replace resistance with tenderness.

The Spiritual EKG

Scripture says it plainly and urgently: “Today, when you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts as they did in the wilderness.” (Hebrews 3:15). That single line functions like a spiritual EKG. It diagnoses whether the inner life is soft, tender, and teachable—or calcified, resistant, and dangerously unresponsive.

The Wilderness Generation’s Heart Condition

The wilderness generation had miracles, manna, deliverance, and divine presence, yet their hearts stiffened like stone. They heard His voice, but they did not yield. They saw His works, but they did not trust. They received His correction, but they did not adapt. Scripture records their condition not as a distant historical footnote, but as a living warning for every believer who hears God and is tempted to delay obedience.

Characteristics of a Heart of Stone

A heart of stone is not merely sinful; it is spiritually slow. It delays repentance, postpones obedience, resists correction, and treats the Spirit’s promptings as interruptions rather than invitations. Over time, that slowness becomes resistance, and resistance becomes hardness.

Characteristics of a Heart of Flesh

A heart of flesh, by contrast, is quick to yield, quick to bow, and quick to change course. It says, “Speak, Lord, Your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:10), and means it. It lets the Spirit interrupt plans, challenge assumptions, expose hidden motives, and reroute the path.

God’s Promise of a New Heart

This is why God promised through Ezekiel: “I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26). A heart of flesh is not weak—it is alive. It beats. It responds. It feels. It moves when God moves. It bends when God speaks. It adjusts when God corrects. It is spiritually sensitive, not spiritually stubborn.

The Monitor of Spiritual Health

And that sensitivity—your responsiveness—is the monitor of your spiritual health.

Diagnostic Questions

When the Spirit convicts you, how long does it take before you repent? When the Spirit prompts you, how long before you obey? When the Spirit warns you, how long before you turn? When the Spirit comforts you, how long before you rest? When the Spirit redirects you, how long before you follow?

These are not small questions. They are diagnostic. They reveal whether your heart is tender or tough, pliable or petrified, Spirit‑led or self‑led.

The Gradual Hardening of the Heart

The wilderness generation heard His voice repeatedly, yet their hearts hardened incrementally. Hardness is rarely sudden. It is gradual. It forms layer by layer—one ignored conviction, one delayed obedience, one resisted prompting, one dismissed warning at a time. Stone grows slowly, but it grows surely.

The Holy Spirit’s Gentle Leading

And here is the sobering truth: the Holy Spirit does not shout to compete with a hardened heart. He speaks. He leads. He nudges. He convicts. But He does not force. The moment we stop responding, we start calcifying.

The Warning from Hebrews

This is why the writer of Hebrews repeats the warning three times: “Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts.” (Hebrews 3:7–8; 3:15; 4:7). The urgency is in the word today. Not tomorrow. Not eventually. Not when obedience becomes convenient. Today. Delayed obedience is already disobedience, and slow responsiveness is already a sign of spiritual disease.

Heart Health in the Kingdom

In medicine, a heart monitor reveals danger before catastrophe strikes. In the Kingdom, God reveals danger through the speed of our surrender. When the Spirit speaks and we respond quickly, the heart is healthy. When the Spirit speaks and we hesitate, negotiate, or postpone, the heart is drifting toward stone.

The Pharisees’ Hearts of Stone

The Pharisees had hearts of stone not because they lacked Scripture, but because they resisted the One to whom Scripture pointed. Jesus healed a man’s hand in front of them, and instead of rejoicing, they hardened (Mark 3:1–6). Jesus taught with authority, and instead of yielding, they resisted (Matthew 7:29). Jesus confronted their hypocrisy, and instead of repenting, they plotted (Matthew 12:14). Their hearts were spiritually anesthetized—religiously active, yet unresponsive to God.

The Disciples’ Hearts of Flesh

But the disciples, flawed as they were, had hearts of flesh. They dropped nets (Matthew 4:20). They followed immediately (Matthew 4:22). They adjusted quickly. They repented deeply. They responded when He called, even when they didn’t fully understand. Their hearts beat with divine rhythm.

The Difference: Responsiveness

The difference was not intelligence, education, or religious background. The difference was responsiveness.

The Spirit Still Speaks

That same difference remains today.

The Spirit still speaks, leads, convicts, redirects, whispers, warns, comforts, and calls. The question is not whether God is speaking. The question is whether we are responding when He does.

Measuring Spiritual Health

Spiritual health is not measured by how much Scripture we know, how many sermons we hear, or how loudly we worship. It is measured by how quickly we obey the Scripture we hear, yield to the One who speaks through His Word, and surrender when the Spirit touches a hidden place.

A heart of flesh is not perfect—it is responsive. A heart of stone is not ignorant—it is resistant.

The Moment of Truth

And the difference between the two is revealed today—in the moment you hear His voice.

Closing Prayer

So let the Word be the monitor. Let the Spirit be the physician. Let responsiveness be the measure. And let the prayer of your heart be simple, sincere, and immediate:

“Lord, when You speak, I will not harden. I will not delay. I will not resist. I will respond—today.”

Final Reflection

Because in the Kingdom, heart health is not measured by beats per minute, but by obedience per whisper. The one who responds quickly walks in the life, softness, and sensitivity of a heart made new by God Himself.

This has been “A View From the Nest” and that is the way I see it. What say you?

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