Category Insights on Scripture

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.

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”

TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS: The Furnace That Forms the Faithful

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Believers experience seasons in life when the heat rises. The pressure tightens during these times. The path ahead seems to glow with the unmistakable shimmer of a furnace door opening. Scripture never pretends otherwise. Jesus Himself told His disciples, “In this world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Tribulation is not a sign that something has gone wrong. It is the evidence that something is being formed.

I. The Furnace No One Volunteers For

From Genesis to Revelation, God’s people are shaped in places no one would choose. Abraham climbs Moriah with trembling hands. Joseph is lowered into a pit and later confined in a prison. David hides in caves while carrying a king’s anointing. The apostles weather storms that threaten to swallow their boat whole. The pattern is consistent: God forms His people in fire, not in ease.

Peter reminds us that none of this should surprise us: “Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you” (1 Peter 4:12). The furnace is not an anomaly. It is a classroom. It is a forge. It is the place where faith is not merely professed but proven.

II. The Purpose of the Heat

Fire in Scripture is never random. It is always purposeful, always intentional, always directed by the hand of a God who wastes nothing.

Peter explains that trials refine faith the way fire refines gold. They burn away impurities so that what remains is genuine and precious (1 Peter 1:6–7). Malachi describes the Lord as a refiner and purifier of silver. He sits attentively over the flame until the dross is removed. The reflection of the Refiner appears in the metal (Malachi 3:2–3). Isaiah echoes the same truth when God declares, “I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tested you in the furnace of affliction” (Isaiah 48:10).

And then there is the discipline of the Lord — not the discipline of rejection, but the discipline of belonging. “For whom the Lord loves He chastens… if you are without chastening… then you are illegitimate and not sons” (Hebrews 12:6–8). The heat is not the anger of God. It is the affirmation that you are His.

III. The Baptism Few Prepare For

John the Baptist announced two baptisms: one of the Spirit and one of fire. “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Matthew 3:11). The church has always celebrated the first. We sing about the Spirit’s refreshing, His filling, His power. But the baptism of fire is real. It is necessary. It is very much a part of the Christian life.

The Spirit empowers, but the fire purifies. The Spirit fills, but the fire transforms. The Spirit equips, but the fire removes what can’t remain.

Isaiah saw the coal touch his lips before he could speak for God (Isaiah 6:6–7). Jeremiah felt the Word burn within him like fire shut up in his bones (Jeremiah 20:9). The disciples saw tongues of fire rest upon them before they stepped into their calling (Acts 2:3–4). Fire precedes function. Purity precedes power.

IV. The God Who Steps Into the Flames

The enemy loves to whisper that the fire is proof of abandonment. Yet Scripture reveals the opposite. The furnace is the place where God’s presence becomes unmistakable.

Nebuchadnezzar threw Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego into the flames. He saw a fourth Man walking with them. This Man looked like “the Son of God” (Daniel 3:24–25). The fire did not consume them; it consumed their ropes. The flames did not destroy them; they revealed the One who stood beside them.

David testified to this reality long before Babylon’s furnace. He said, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… when you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you” (Isaiah 43:2). God does not meet His people after the fire. He meets them in it.

V. The Witness of the Watching World

The world is always watching how the people of God walk through adversity. Nebuchadnezzar did not glorify God when the Hebrews refused to bow. He glorified God when they walked out of the furnace without the smell of smoke (Daniel 3:27–28).

Paul and Silas sang hymns in a prison cell, and the prisoners listened to them (Acts 16:25). Their endurance became the catalyst for a jailer’s salvation. Peter instructs believers to be prepared to give an answer for the hope within them. This hope is most visible when circumstances should have extinguished it (1 Peter 3:15).

Your trial is never just about you. It becomes a testimony for those who have no language for faith until they see it survive the fire.

VI. The Transformation on the Other Side

When God brings His people out of a furnace, they emerge with something they did not possess before. Job, after walking through unimaginable suffering, declared, “I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You” (Job 42:5). The fire clarifies vision. It deepens understanding. It strips away illusions.

James tells us that trials produce patience, and patience produces maturity, leaving the believer “perfect and complete, lacking nothing” (James 1:2–4). Paul adds that tribulation produces perseverance, character, and hope — a hope that does not disappoint (Romans 5:3–5).

The furnace graduates the faithful. It does not leave them where it found them.

VII. The Seal: What the Fire Cannot Touch

The flames may touch your circumstances, but they cannot touch your calling. They may shake your emotions, but they cannot shake your election. They may burn away what is temporary, but they cannot scorch what is eternal.

Paul writes with unshakable certainty: “We are hard‑pressed on every side, yet not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8–9). The fire forms the faithful, but it never destroys the chosen.

And Peter closes the loop by reminding us that after we have suffered “a little while,” the God of all grace will “perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle” us (1 Peter 5:10). The furnace is not the end. It is the formation.

PLAYOFF FAITH — RUN TO WIN

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

1 Corinthians 9:24-26


Imagine a sharp, high-definition shot from a night playoff game. Stadium lights cut through the cold air. Breath is visible from the linemen at the line of scrimmage. Grass is torn up under cleats. A roaring crowd is pressed in on all sides. On the field, helmets collide, jerseys stretch, and every yard is fought for. In the stands, thousands of hands are raised. Voices are lifted. Hearts are fully engaged. Yet only twenty-two people are actually in the game.

That’s the picture Paul presses into when he writes:“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.”—1 Corinthians 9:24

Every athlete starts the season with the same uniform. They have the same schedule. Everyone faces the same long list of practices and meetings. Film sessions are also part of the routine. In the same way, many believers step into the life of faith. They put on the “uniform.” They attend services. They lift their hands in worship. They learn the language of the kingdom. But Paul’s words cut through a dangerous assumption: simply being on the team does not guarantee the trophy. Not everyone who runs wins. Not everyone who shows up finishes with a crown.

There is a subtle mindset that creeps into the church. It is much like the attitude of some fans in the stands. They think, “I’m here, I’m cheering, I’m emotionally invested — so I’m part of the action.” The stadium needs spectators, but the scoreboard only tracks what happens on the field. In the same way, Christianity was never meant to be a spectator sport. It is not just about watching, reacting, and commenting from a distance. It is a participation calling — a summons onto the field, into the contact, into the cost.

Paul won’t let us hide in the bleachers. He pulls us down to field level and says, in essence: Look around. Everyone is running. Everyone is moving. Everyone appears busy. But only those who run with intention, discipline, and focus actually obtain the prize. That is the difference between regular-season faith and what we call Playoff Faith.

Regular-season faith is content to be present. Playoff Faith is determined to prevail.

Paul continues:“Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable crown, but we an imperishable.”— 1 Corinthians 9:25

Players on the field will push their bodies to the edge of exhaustion. They will study film deep into the night. They will live with relentless focus. All of this effort is for a trophy that will gather dust and a ring that will one day be buried. They do all of that for a glory that fades as soon as the next season starts. Meanwhile, believers are called to train for a crown that will never tarnish. It will never crack, never be outdated, and never be replaced.

Yet if we are honest, many of us have given more discipline to our hobbies, our careers, our favorite teams, and our entertainment than we have to the race of faith.

Paul refuses to preach from a safe distance. He does not see himself as a commentator in the booth, narrating the game while others take the hits. Listen to his language:“So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”— 1 Corinthians 9:26–27

This is not fear talking; it is focus. This man understands that calling is not the same as finishing. He knows gifting is not the same as winning. He knows that the uniform gives you access, but discipline brings advancement. He refuses to assume that being on the roster of preachers automatically places him on the podium of finishers.

This is where Playoff Faith is born. It doesn’t emerge in the spotlight. It grows in the quiet, unseen choices that separate contenders from the crowd. The ones who advance in the kingdom are not always the most talented. They are not always the most visible or the most loudly cheered. They are the ones who refuse to coast. The ones who refuse to confuse attendance with endurance. The ones who refuse to settle for a spiritual participation trophy when God has placed a real crown within reach.

Playoff Faith is the faith that steps out of the stands and onto the field. It’s the believer who decides, I will not only sing about surrender; I will actually surrender. I will not only clap for obedience; I will actually obey. I will not only cheer for others who run; I will run my own race to win. Christianity is not something we watch; it’s something we walk. It is not something we consume; it’s something we carry.

Playoff Faith wakes with purpose. It trains when no one is watching. It guards the heart when compromise whispers, “Just ease up. You’re doing more than most.” It keeps running when the season gets long and the hits get heavy. It remembers there is a finish line ahead. There is a real reward beyond it. It takes Paul’s words seriously: not everyone who enters the race wins the crown. Everyone who runs to obtain it has a real chance to finish with that crown in hand.

This is the invitation God puts before us. It is not to run casually. It is not to drift. It is not to live as if the outcome is automatic. The invitation is to run with fierce determination, to run with focused determination. That includes seeking the pleasure of God. It involves experiencing the joy of obedience. It testifies to a life that did more than watch from the stands.

You might feel small as a single player in a massive stadium. However, heaven is not judging you based on your seat. It is watching your race.

Playoff Faith does not settle for being on the team. Playoff Faith refuses the comfort of the bleachers. Playoff Faith runs, and trains, and presses, and finishes —to win.

🏈 BENEDICTION — FOR THOSE WHO RUN TO WIN

May the Lord strengthen your stride, discipline your heart, and focus your eyes on the imperishable crown.

May you refuse the comfort of the bleachers, the drift of casual faith, and the illusion that presence equals victory.
May you run with purpose, train with fire, and finish with joy.
And when the hits come, when the season stretches, when the crowd thins —may you remember that heaven does not reward the loudest cheer, but the deepest endurance.
You were not made to spectate. You were called to participate. You were chosen to run.
So run to win.
In Jesus’ name —
Amen.

Trust in a Digital Age

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

When Knowledge Increases but Wisdom Decreases

Daniel 12:4 — “But you, Daniel, shut up the words and seal the book, until the time of the end. Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall increase.” (ESV)

Daniel’s prophecy describes a world marked by constant movement and an unprecedented surge in knowledge. That vision has matured in our generation. We live in a time when information expands at a staggering pace. Data flows continuously. The accumulated knowledge of humanity is accessible within seconds. Yet for all this abundance, wisdom has not increased alongside it. Instead, we have become a people who gather information endlessly while struggling to arrive at truth.

Paul captured this condition with piercing clarity when he wrote that there would be those who are “always learning and never able to arrive at a knowledge of the truth” (2 Timothy 3:7, ESV). It is entirely possible to be surrounded by information and yet remain untouched by revelation. Knowledge alone cannot steady the soul, and information alone cannot anchor a life. Truth is not discovered through volume but through encounter, and encounter requires a heart that is willing to listen.

The Dulling of Spiritual Senses

Hebrews 5:14 — “But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.” (ESV)

The writer of Hebrews explains why so many lose their way in an age of endless information. Discernment is not an automatic byproduct of exposure to knowledge. It is the fruit of consistent obedience, intentional listening, and a life shaped by the presence of God. When people stop exercising their spiritual senses, those senses weaken. When they no longer practice discernment, they lose the ability to recognize what is good and what is evil. They also lose the ability to see what is wise and what is foolish. Furthermore, they struggle to discern what is true and what is merely appealing.

Technology accelerates this dullness when it becomes a substitute for seeking God. It offers answers without intimacy, direction without relationship, and connection without covenant. It promises clarity but delivers only noise. It gives the illusion of maturity without the substance of it. In a world where everything is immediate, discernment becomes inconvenient, and the slow work of spiritual formation feels unnecessary. Yet without it, the soul becomes vulnerable to every voice that speaks loudly and every system that promises ease.

The Fragile Power of Man‑Made Chariots

Psalm 20:7 — “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” (ESV)

David lived in a world where nations placed their confidence in chariots and horses. These were the most advanced military technologies of their time. These machines were swift, powerful, and rapidly deployed. They gave kings confidence and armies a sense of invincibility. Yet David refused to place his trust in them. He understood that chariots, for all their strength, were fragile. A wheel break. A horse stumble. A battlefield can shift. In a single moment, a nation’s pride collapse. Their power was real, but it was not dependable. Their strength was visible, but it was not faithful.

The same is true of the “chariots” of our age. Our devices are fast, our networks powerful, and our systems astonishing in their reach. Yet they can fail without warning. A server can crash. A platform can disappear. A password can be compromised. A power grid can falter. A corporation can change direction. An algorithm can turn against the very people it once served. Behind every digital system stands an indifferent source of power. These structures do not know you. They do not love you. They do not care for your soul. They offer convenience but not covenant, access but not affection, information but not truth.

God, nonetheless, is steady, faithful, and unchanging. He does not fail, shut down, or withdraw access. He does not operate from indifference. He is invested in your good. He guards, guides, and keeps covenant. He watches over your soul and works all things for your good. He remains faithful when every human system collapses. Technology can serve you, but only God can save you. Tools can carry you quickly, but only God can carry you safely.

The Call Back to Discernment

Daniel warned that knowledge would increase. Paul warned that learning would not guarantee truth. Hebrews warns that discernment must be trained. Together these passages form a prophetic map for our moment. We live in a world overflowing with information. There is a generation starving for truth. The church is called to sharpen its senses again. This is not a call to reject technology but to refuse idolatry. It is a call to use tools without trusting them. It is a call to learn without losing truth. It is also a call to grow in knowledge without abandoning wisdom.

A Prayer for the Digital Age

Lord, train my senses again. Sharpen my discernment. Guard me from the illusion that more information means more truth. Teach me to use the tools of this age without bowing to them. Let my trust rest not in the works of human hands but in Your voice, Your wisdom, and Your presence. Make me mature in discernment, steady in truth, and faithful in a world that has forgotten how to listen.

This has been a View From the Nest. And that is the way I see it. What say you?