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Worship in Spirit and Truth: A Call Back to the Heart of God

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Worship has always been at the center of God’s relationship with His people. Yet, it is one of the most misunderstood realities in the modern church. We often reduce it to music or structure. Sometimes, it’s even reduced to atmosphere. We forget that Scripture presents worship not as a formula to follow. Instead, it is a life awakened by the presence of God. The clearest definition we have comes from Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman. “The hour is coming, and is now here. The true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth. For the Father is seeking such people to worship Him” (John 4:23). In that single sentence, He dismantles every man‑made system and calls us back to the heart of worship. What follows is a return to that simplicity—ten truths that shape what true worship really is.

1. Worship Begins With God’s Revelation, Not Our Initiative

Every genuine act of worship in Scripture begins with God making Himself known. Abraham responds to God’s voice (Genesis 12:1). Moses removes his sandals because God appears in the burning bush (Exodus 3:4–5). Isaiah cries, “Woe is me,” only after seeing the Lord high and lifted up (Isaiah 6:1–5). Worship is always a response to revelation. We do not start worship; God does. He speaks, He reveals, He draws—and we answer. This is why Jesus says the Father is seeking worshipers, not worship. God desires hearts awakened by His presence, not people performing religious duties.

2. Worship Is Spiritual Before It Is Structural

Jesus’ declaration that “God is Spirit” (John 4:24) means worship cannot be confined to buildings, rituals, or formulas. In the Old Covenant, worship was tied to a place—the Temple. In the New Covenant, worship is tied to a Person—the Holy Spirit. Paul reminds us that we “are the temple of the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 6:19). Worship is no longer about sacred architecture but about a Spirit‑filled life. The Spirit animates, breathes, convicts, comforts, and leads. True worship is alive because the Spirit is alive within us.

3. Worship Is Truth Before It Is Technique

Truth is not merely doctrinal accuracy; it is reality as God defines it. Jesus Himself is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). To worship in truth is to align our hearts with who God is and who we are in Him. It means rejecting pretense, performance, and self‑deception. David prayed, “Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being” (Psalm 51:6). Worship in truth is honest, humble, and anchored in the revelation of God’s character. It is not about doing the right things in the right order. It is about standing rightly before the God who sees all.

4. Worship Is Surrender, Not Performance

The first time the word “worship” appears in Scripture is when Abraham prepares to offer Isaac. He states, “I and the boy will go over there and worship” (Genesis 22:5). Worship is sacrifice. It is yielding our will, our pride, our preferences, and our plans. Paul urges believers to present their bodies as a living sacrifice. He indicates this is your spiritual worship (Romans 12:1). Worship is not about how well we sing or how deeply we feel; it is about how fully we surrender. The heart bowed low is the truest instrument of praise.

5. Worship Is Participation, Not Observation

In the Temple, worship was performed by priests on behalf of the people. But in Christ, every believer becomes a priest (1 Peter 2:9). Worship is no longer a spectator event. Paul commands the church to “speak to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” (Ephesians 5:19). Worship is congregational, participatory, and mutual. It is the gathered people of God lifting one voice, one heart, one confession. When worship becomes a performance to watch rather than a sacrifice to offer, it ceases to be worship at all.

6. Worship Is a Life Offered, Not a Moment Experienced

Paul’s call is to present our bodies as living sacrifices (Romans 12:1). It reframes worship as a lifestyle, not a segment of a service. Worship involves obedience on Monday. It requires purity on Tuesday. On Wednesday, it means showing mercy. Generosity is emphasized on Thursday. Forgiveness follows on Friday. Finally, rest is paramount on Saturday. The songs we sing on Sunday are the overflow of the lives we live throughout the week. Jesus rebuked those who honored Him with their lips while their hearts were far from Him (Matthew 15:8). True worship is not measured in moments but in a life aligned with God.

7. Worship Is Encounter, Not Engineering

Throughout Scripture, worship erupts when God reveals Himself. His glory fills the Temple (2 Chronicles 5:14). His presence shakes the thresholds (Isaiah 6:4). His Spirit falls like fire in the upper room (Acts 2:1–4). These moments cannot be manufactured. They cannot be scheduled, scripted, or controlled. Elijah prepared the altar, but only God could send the fire (1 Kings 18:38). True worship prepares the heart and waits for God to move. It is not about creating an atmosphere; it is about welcoming the King.

8. Worship Is the Recognition of God’s Worth

The English word “worship” comes from “worth‑ship”—the act of declaring God’s worth. The elders in Revelation fall down and cry, “Worthy are You, our Lord and God” (Revelation 4:11). Worship is the soul’s recognition of God’s infinite value. It is the moment when everything else fades and only His glory remains. Whatever we value most, we worship. Jesus warns that we cannot serve two masters (Matthew 6:24). Worship is the reordering of our loves until God is supreme.

9. Worship Requires the Right Garment

Scripture often connects worship with garments. Priests wore holy garments (Exodus 28:2). Isaiah saw filthy garments replaced with clean ones (Isaiah 61:10). Jesus spoke of wedding garments in His parable (Matthew 22:11–12). Paul tells believers to “put on Christ” (Romans 13:14). The garment of worship is not fabric but heart posture—humility, repentance, purity, and gratitude. God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6). Worship begins when we dress the heart in the righteousness Christ provides.

10. Worship Is God’s Presence Resting on God’s People

The essence of worship is simple: God is here, and we respond. Moses refused to move without God’s presence, saying, “If Your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here” (Exodus 33:15). David longed for the courts of the Lord because God dwelled there (Psalm 84:1–2). The early church gathered because the Spirit was among them (Acts 4:31). Worship is not about the right order, the right elements, or the right structure. It is about the right God meeting the right heart. When His presence rests on His people, worship becomes inevitable.

A Final Word for Worship Wednesday

True worship is the living, Spirit‑led, truth‑aligned response of a surrendered heart to the revealed presence of God. It is not a formula to master but a relationship to embrace. It is not a structure to defend but a Person to adore. It is not a moment to engineer but a life to offer. May we be the worshipers the Father seeks. We should worship in spirit and in truth. Our hearts should be awakened, our lives surrendered, and our eyes fixed on the One who is worthy.

Snowmageddon and the Storms We Create: When the World Mobilizes and the Church Retreats

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

The forecasts grow louder. The graphics turn dramatic. The region braces for what the news has christened Snowmageddon. This is a storm wrapped in apocalyptic language. It comes complete with countdown clocks, urgent tickers, and warnings that feel more cinematic than meteorological. The world prepares with a kind of frantic determination. Meanwhile, something else unfolds quietly in the background. It is almost unnoticed unless you are paying attention.

Electric linemen are already staged in their trucks, engines idling, ready to restore power the moment the first line snaps. Road crews sit in warm garages beside mountains of salt, waiting for the call to roll out into the night. Grocery stores are stripped bare as shoppers fill carts with enough food to survive a siege. Everyone is mobilizing. Everyone is preparing. Everyone is stepping into their role with a sense of duty and resolve.

And then, amid all this activity, comes the announcement from the one place that claims to carry the unshakable Kingdom:

“All services are canceled due to inclement weather.”

The contrast is hard to ignore. The world gears up. The church shuts down.

This is not about recklessness or ignoring safety. It is about the symbolism—the quiet confession embedded in the decision. When the world anticipates hardship, it mobilizes. When the church anticipates hardship, it retreats. And that retreat reveals something deeper than a scheduling adjustment. It reveals a posture.

Scripture never once suggests that worship is a Sunday-only activity, nor does it tie devotion to favorable weather. The command is simple and ancient: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh is a Sabbath to the LORD your God.” (Exodus 20:9–10) The rhythm is work and rest, not convenience and cancellation. If the work of the Kingdom is the saving of souls, it also includes the strengthening of the saints. It involves the breaking of bread and the prayers of the people. Then that work is not suspended by snowflakes.

The early church understood this instinctively. They gathered in homes, courtyards, borrowed rooms, and hidden places. They met in caves and catacombs. They prayed in prison cells. They broke bread wherever they could find a table. They did not have buildings to close, so they could not close the church. Their worship was not weather-permitting. Their devotion was not seasonal. Their gatherings were not fragile.

Jesus Himself warned us about the danger of a faith that collapses under pressure. “Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does them is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” (Matthew 7:24) The storm came, the winds blew, the floods rose—and the house stood because its foundation was not circumstantial. But the house built on sand fell, “and great was its fall.” (Matthew 7:27)

A storm does not create weakness. A storm reveals it.

And perhaps that is what Snowmageddon exposes—not the fragility of our infrastructure, but the fragility of our ecclesiology. A church that closes at the first sign of difficulty has confused the building with the body. A church that cancels worship because the weather is inconvenient has forgotten. It has forgotten that worship is not an event but a life. A church that retreats while the world mobilizes is a church that has lost sight of its calling.

Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” (Matthew 9:37) He did not add, “unless it snows.” He did not say, “unless the roads are slick.” He did not suggest that the work of the Kingdom pauses when the forecast is unfavorable. Souls do not stop needing salvation because the temperature drops. Hearts do not stop needing hope because the wind picks up. Darkness does not delay its work because the roads are icy.

If anything, storms heighten the need for light.

The world prepares for the storm because it knows what storms can do. The church should prepare for the storm because it knows what storms reveal.

And maybe that is the quiet message hidden inside this winter’s theatrics. If a snowstorm can cancel our worship, perhaps what we call worship was never the thing God asked for. If a weather system can scatter the saints, perhaps the gathering was never rooted in the Spirit. If the church retreats while the world mobilizes, maybe we have forgotten that the Kingdom work is still work. The One who called us did not limit His commission to clear skies.

“Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.” (1 Corinthians 15:58)

Storm or no storm, the Kingdom does not close. Storm or no storm, the mission does not pause. Storm or no storm, the church is still the church.

And maybe Snowmageddon is not the storm we should fear. Maybe the greater storm is the quiet one. It shows how easily we retreat when the world needs us most.

Take It Slow in the Snow

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A Winter Road. A Spiritual Lesson. A Faithful Captain.

Opening

The weather outside may be frightful, and the roads may be anything but delightful. Snow piles up, visibility drops, and ice hides beneath the surface waiting to surprise the unprepared. On days like this, the wise stay home. But if you must venture out, safety is job one.

Take it slow in the snow.
Because where there is snow… there is almost always ice.

1. The Four‑Wheel Drive Myth

A lot of folks hit the winter roads thinking four‑wheel drive makes them invincible. But every seasoned driver knows the truth:

All tires slide on ice.
Four‑wheel drive helps you get moving — it does nothing to help you stop.

And sometimes?
Four‑wheel drive just gets you into trouble faster.

Spiritually, pride works the same way.

1 Corinthians 10:12 — “Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.”

Overconfidence is black ice for the soul.

2. Weight: The Hidden Stability

Years behind the wheel taught me something most people don’t understand:

An empty truck bed is unstable.
A loaded truck settles down.

Weight increases traction.
Weight presses the tires into the road.
Weight gives you control.

Spiritually, the same is true.

Psalm 119:11 — “Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You.”

A believer with Scripture inside them has spiritual downforce.
An empty soul slides.
A weighted soul stands.

3. Traction: Obedience Under Pressure

Dualies give you more rubber on the road — but only when there’s weight pressing them down.

Empty dualies?
They float on snow.
They lose grip.
They slide sideways.

But load that truck…
and those dualies bite into the surface and hold steady.

Obedience works the same way.

James 1:22 — “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.”

Traction isn’t about speed — it’s about grip.
It’s about consistency.
It’s about doing what God said even when conditions are slick.

4. Modern Parables from the Road

Parable 1 — The Invisible Ice

Black ice looks like pavement.
Temptation looks like opportunity.

Proverbs 14:12 — “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.”

Parable 2 — The Slow Driver Who Arrives

The one who slows down in the storm is the one who makes it home.

Isaiah 30:15 — “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.”

5. The Road as an Altar — First Person Revelation

I’ve spent a lot of years behind the wheel.
Long roads. Long nights. Long storms.
And if there’s one thing driving has taught me, it’s this:

Experience helps… but experience alone won’t save you.

I’ve learned to feel the road through the steering wheel.
I’ve learned how a truck talks when the bed is empty,
and how it settles down when it’s carrying weight.
I’ve learned the difference between snow and ice,
between a slide I can correct
and a slide that’s already decided for me.

But even with all that experience,
I’ve had moments where the road reminded me:
You don’t know what you don’t know.

And that’s exactly what happened on the Sea of Galilee.

The disciples weren’t rookies.
They were experienced fishermen — men who grew up on that water.
They knew the winds.
They knew the currents.
They knew the storms that came out of nowhere.

But one night, a storm hit that was bigger than their experience.

Mark 4:37 — “And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat…”

These seasoned men panicked.
Why?
Because experience can teach you a lot —
but it can’t teach you everything.

Experience can make you skilled —
but it can’t make you sovereign.

Experience can help you navigate storms —
but it can’t calm them.

Only Jesus can do that.

Mark 4:39 — “Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still!’”

And someone always brings up Paul’s shipwreck as a rebuttal —
“See? Even a man of God can go down in a storm.”

But look closer.

The ship wrecked…
but the people didn’t.

Acts 27:22 — “There will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship.”

Why?
Because a man of God was on board.
Because God had a purpose for Paul that no storm could cancel.
Because Jesus wasn’t just along for the ride —
He was the Captain of the outcome.

And that’s the lesson I’ve learned on the road:

I can have experience.
I can have skill.
I can have traction and weight and wisdom.
But if I try to navigate a storm on experience alone,
I’m headed for a wreck.

But if Jesus is in the cab with me —
better yet, if He’s the One holding the wheel —
then even if the truck slides,
even if the road gets rough,
even if the storm gets violent…

I’m going to make it.

Not because I’m a great driver.
But because He’s a faithful Captain.

Psalm 121:8 — “The LORD shall preserve your going out and your coming in…”

Final Reflection

And before I close this out, let me say one more thing — something personal, something true, something I carry with gratitude every single day:

I’ve survived over three million miles behind the wheel.
Accident‑free.
Incident‑free.
Storms, snow, ice, long nights, empty roads, and crowded highways —
and I’m still here.

Not because I’m the best driver.
Not because I always made the right call.
Not because experience never failed me.

I’m here because Jesus piloted my ship.

Three million miles…
and not one of them driven alone.

Thank You, Jesus.

Closing

If you have nowhere to go today, let it snow.
Rest. Be still.

But if God calls you forward, take it slow in the snow.
Move with wisdom.
Move with awareness.
Move with Him.

Because the One who guides you through the storm
is the same One who clears the road ahead.

Proverbs 3:6 — “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths”

WHEN THE KINGDOM TREMBLES:

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A Watchman’s Word for a Nation in Upheaval

Solomon once wrote:

“What has been will be again; what has been done will be done again. There is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

If you want to understand the turmoil of our time, you don’t need a pundit. You need a Bible.

The unrest we see today is not new. The outrage, the factions, the calls for resistance, and the crowds stirred to avenge a leader have long existed. It is ancient. It is familiar. It is recorded in Scripture with unnerving precision.

The names change. The slogans change. The flags change.

But the spirit behind it does not.

THE DAY THE SONGS SHIFTED:

When Public Praise Became Political Crisis**

Israel’s political fracture began with a chant:

“Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.” (1 Samuel 18:7)

That lyrics were not entertainment. It was a national poll.

It told the nation. It told Saul. The people saw something in David they no longer saw in their king.

Scripture says:

“Saul eyed David from that day forward.” (1 Samuel 18:9)

That is the moment a leader stops governing and starts defending his throne.

THE GIANT THAT EXPOSED THE KING

For forty days, Goliath mocked Israel. For forty days, Saul — the tallest man in the nation (1 Samuel 9:2) — did nothing.

Then David stepped forward and did in minutes what the king failed to do in over a month:

“So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone.” (1 Samuel 17:50)

This was not just a military victory. It was public humiliation for Saul.

David didn’t just silence a giant. He exposed a leader who had lost courage, clarity, and the anointing.

And insecure leaders do not forgive those who reveal their weakness.

THE RISE OF TWO CAMPS

From that moment, Israel split into two factions:

Saul’s Camp — The Old Guard

  • loyal to the throne
  • fearful of change
  • convinced David was a threat
  • emotionally tied to Saul’s past victories

David’s Camp — The New Movement

  • loyal to God’s anointing
  • drawn to righteousness
  • inspired by courage
  • convinced God was shifting the kingdom

This was not rebellion. This was discernment.

But Saul saw it as sedition.

THE POLITICS OF JEALOUSY AND FEAR

Saul’s insecurity metastasized into violence:

“Saul cast the spear… for he said, ‘I will pin David to the wall.’” (1 Samuel 18:11)

When that failed:

“Saul sought to kill David.” (1 Samuel 19:10)

He mobilized the army. He weaponized the state. He turned the machinery of government against a single man.

This is what happens when a leader loses the fear of God.

DAVID’S RESTRAINT:

The Only Thing That Prevented Civil War**

David had multiple opportunities to kill Saul:

  • in the cave at En Gedi (1 Samuel 24)
  • in the camp while Saul slept (1 Samuel 26)

His men urged him to strike. They saw it as justice. They saw it as self‑defense. They saw it as God’s will.

But David said:

“The Lord forbid that I should stretch out my hand against the Lord’s anointed.” (1 Samuel 24:6)

David refused to seize power by force. He refused to avenge himself. He refused to let outrage masquerade as righteousness.

He understood:

“He removes kings and raises up kings.” (Daniel 2:21)

And that sometimes a nation receives the leader it asked for:

“Make us a king to judge us like all the nations.” (1 Samuel 8:5)

And sometimes the leader it deserves:

“You have rejected your God… therefore the Lord will not hear you.” (1 Samuel 8:18)

David feared God more than he feared losing.

That is why he became king.

ABSALOM:

The Charismatic Usurper Who Weaponized Grievance**

Absalom didn’t begin with swords. He began with sentiment.

Scripture says:

“Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel.” (2 Samuel 15:6)

He positioned himself at the gate. He intercepted grievances. He amplified frustrations. He promised justice. He played the victim. He played the hero.

And when the moment was right:

“The conspiracy grew strong.” (2 Samuel 15:12)

A crowd convinced they were fighting for righteousness was actually fighting against God’s chosen king.

BARABBAS:

The Insurrectionist the Crowd Preferred Over the Messiah**

Pilate offered the people a choice:

  • Jesus, the innocent
  • Barabbas, the insurrectionist

Scripture is explicit:

“Barabbas was in prison with the rebels who had committed murder in the insurrection.” (Mark 15:7)

And the crowd shouted:

“Not this man, but Barabbas!” (John 18:40)

Then:

“Crucify Him!” (Mark 15:13)

The crowd believed they were defending justice. They demanded the release of a murderer and the execution of the Son of God.

That is what happens when outrage becomes a god.

THE WATCHMAN’S WORD FOR OUR TIME

A nation becomes Saul’s camp under several circumstances. This happens when it rallies to avenge a leader who feels threatened. It occurs when crowds are stirred into frenzy. It is observed when loyalty replaces discernment. When emotion replaces Scripture and outrage replaces obedience. Moreover, when personal conviction replaces the fear of the Lord, that nation is truly Saul’s camp. That nation has become Saul’s camp.

And Scripture warns what happens next.

The Watchman’s call is simple:

Do not let your outrage become your god. Do not let your loyalty become your idol. Do not let your emotions become your prophet. Do not strike what God has not commanded you to strike.

Because if you do, you may find yourself fighting against the very thing God Himself has established.

“Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord; “I will repay.” (Romans 12:19)

Benediction: The Posture of a Child of God in a Divided Nation

May the people of God remember. Our allegiance is to the Lord. It is not to the noise of the crowd or the fury of the moment. When nations rage and factions demand loyalty, may you stand where Scripture commands — not where outrage pushes.

May you refuse the spirit of Saul that strikes in fear. Embrace the spirit of David who waited on the Lord.

Reject the seduction of Absalom. He steals hearts with grievance. Cling to the Shepherd‑King. He leads with righteousness.

May you discern the difference between the crowd that cried “Crucify.” May you also see the remnant that stayed at the foot of the cross.

May your heart be governed by the Word, not by the winds of public opinion.
For it is written:

  • “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)
  • “Be slow to speak, slow to anger, for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” (James 1:19-20)
  • “Do not repay evil for evil but overcome evil with good.” (1 Peter 3:9)
  • “Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except from God.” (Romans 13:1)
  • “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” (Matthew 5:9)

May you walk in fear of the Lord,
not the fear of losing influence.

May you speak truth without venom,
stand firm without violence,
and wait on God without grasping for power.

May your discernment be sharper than the rhetoric of the age. Let your obedience be deeper than the passions of the crowd.

When the kingdom trembles and the factions roar, may you be found among those who act only with God’s command. Do not follow a multitude to do evil. Trust the Judge of all the earth to do what is right.

May the Lord steady your steps,
guard your tongue,
anchor your heart,
and keep you from the snares of reaction.

For the kingdoms of this world rise and fall,
but the Kingdom of our God endures forever.

Amen.

The Vineyard and the White Whale: A Parable for an Unsettled Age

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

There was a kingdom by the sea where a modest vineyard grew on a quiet rise. It wasn’t impressive, yet it endured every storm. It bore fruit in seasons when other fields failed. It stood as a quiet contradiction to the loud voices of the age.

One man in the kingdom could not bear the sight of it. He was a man of influence, accustomed to shaping the mood of the crowd. But the vineyard unsettled him. It contradicted the story he told about the world. It bore fruit he insisted could not exist. And so, the vineyard became, in his mind, an offense.

He convinced himself that if he could just uproot it, the unease inside him would finally be quiet.

But the vineyard was not his.

And that truth gnawed at him.

He brooded. He rehearsed grievances until they hardened into certainty. Soon the vineyard was no longer a patch of land — it was a symbol of everything he despised. He rallied others to hate it with him. He painted it as a threat to the kingdom’s stability. He insisted that the realm could not stand while that vineyard stood.

Elijah had once confronted a king just like this — a man who wanted what was not his, a man who mistook desire for destiny. The prophet warned him that coveting another man’s inheritance would cost him more than he imagined. But the warning was forgotten, and the pattern repeated.

Across the sea, another man sailed with a similar fire in his bones. Melville would later author his story — a captain who let a single wound become his compass. A white whale had crossed his path, and instead of healing, he fed his injury until it became an obsession. Every sunrise was measured by how close he was to the creature he hated. Every decision bent toward the chase.

Both men believed the same lie:

“If I can destroy the thing that troubles me, the world will finally be set right.”

But the vineyard did not trouble the king. And the whale did not trouble the captain. Their own hearts did.

And while they raged, the world around them trembled.

Borders shifted. Nations armed. Old powers stirred. New powers rose. The tides of history moved like deep waters beneath a sleeping ship.

But neither man noticed. Their eyes were fixed on a single point, and everything outside that point faded into shadow.

The Moral of the Story

And in the days that followed, the kingdom learned what neither Ahab ever could.

When hatred becomes the single bead on the string, it swallows every other color. It dulls the eyes until beauty looks threatening. It numbs the ears until wisdom sounds like deceit. It twists the mind until truth feels dangerous and lies feel safe. It blinds people to what is good, and it blinds them even more to what is right.

The king had sworn the vineyard was poison. The captain had sworn the whale was evil. But the poison was in their own vision, and the evil was in the obsession that hollowed them out.

“The light of the body is the eye,” the Scripture says, “and if the eye is evil, the whole body is full of darkness.” (Matthew 6:22–23)

Their eyes had turned evil — not with violence, but with fixation. And the darkness that followed was of their own making.

The vineyard is still growing. The whale still swam. Nothing the obsessed man did altered either one. His hatred had no power over the thing he despised, so it turned inward and fed him instead.

And any obsession fastened to an unreachable prize will end the same way — consuming the one who clings to it while the prize itself remains untouched.

The prophets had warned of this long before:

“They have eyes, but they see not; ears, but they hear not.” (Psalm 115:5–6)

A blindness chosen, not imposed.

And while the obsessed narrowed their sight to a single target, the world around them shifted. Borders trembled. Nations armed. Old powers stirred. New powers rose. The tides of history moved like deep waters beneath a sleeping ship.

But the obsessed did not see it. They could not. Their hatred had become their compass, and it pointed nowhere but inward.

So, the kingdom learned a hard truth:

A nation fixated on destroying one figure loses the ability to discern the forces shaping its destiny. A people who let hatred guide them will walk straight into the dangers they refuse to see. Obsession does not merely distort reason — it devours it. And when reason is gone, the world can burn unnoticed.

As it is written:

“Be sober, be vigilant; for your adversary the devil walks about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.” (1 Peter 5:8)

The lion did not devour them through the vineyard. Nor through the whale. He devoured them through the obsession they chose.