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I See Dead People

Allen Frederick Leave a comment
But When I Lifted My Eyes, I Saw Jesus Only

There is a famous line from the movie The Sixth Sense that almost everyone recognizes: “I see dead people.” Well, apparently Peter did too. Long before Hollywood turned those words into one of cinema’s most memorable lines, Peter, James, and John climbed a mountain with Jesus and witnessed something astonishing. Jesus was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, His clothing became white as light, and suddenly two men appeared with Him: Moses and Elijah. Peter responded by offering to build three shelters, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Then, while Peter was still speaking, the Father interrupted him from heaven and directed the disciples toward His Son. When the disciples finally lifted their eyes again, Moses and Elijah were gone. They saw no one except Jesus.

Three Tabernacles

Peter was understandably overwhelmed by what he saw. We should be careful not to accuse Peter of intentionally developing a doctrine that placed Moses and Elijah on exactly the same level as Jesus. Nevertheless, the picture is striking. Peter sees three glorious figures and responds by proposing three shelters. Then heaven interrupts him.

“This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him.”
Matthew 17:5

The Father does not say, “Hear them.” He says, “Hear Him.” The disciples fall on their faces in fear. Jesus approaches and touches them. When they finally lift their eyes, they see no one except Jesus. There is the picture, the message, and the heart of the matter: Jesus only.

Moses Had His Place

None of this dishonors Moses. God chose Moses for an extraordinary purpose. Through Moses came the Law and the deliverance of Israel from Egypt. But Moses was not the Messiah, and Moses was never supposed to become the destination. Jesus Himself said that Moses wrote concerning Him. If we truly honor Moses, we follow the direction in which Moses was pointing. We do not honor the signpost by stopping at the signpost. We honor it by going where it directs us.

Elijah Had His Place

The same principle applies to Elijah. Elijah stood boldly against apostasy and witnessed extraordinary demonstrations of God’s power, but Elijah was not the destination either. Christians have long recognized in Moses and Elijah a fitting picture of the Law and the Prophets standing in the presence of the One toward whom the biblical story was moving. They do not compete with Christ; they testify to Him. The Law has its place and the prophets have their place, but Christ occupies the place belonging to Christ alone. Then the representatives disappear from view, and the One to whom they pointed remains: Jesus only.

Why Are You Consulting Me?

There is another strange biblical encounter with a departed servant of God that belongs in this discussion. Samuel had died. The Philistine army had gathered against Israel, and Saul was terrified. Saul inquired of the LORD, but the LORD did not answer him through dreams, Urim, or prophets. Saul then sought a medium and specifically requested Samuel.

When Samuel appears, Saul explains exactly what he wants. God is no longer answering him, so Saul has called Samuel to tell him what to do. Samuel responds with a haunting question: “Why do you consult me?” Saul’s fundamental problem was not that Samuel was unavailable or that Saul lacked information. His problem was broken obedience before God. Yet instead of confronting the real issue, Saul searched for another avenue to obtain spiritual direction. When our relationship with God becomes strained, when obedience becomes costly, when God seems silent, or when He has already spoken and we do not like what He has said, we are remarkably capable of looking for another route.

Saul’s consultation with a medium should not be carelessly equated with later Christian practices of requesting the intercession of departed saints. They are not identical practices. Nevertheless, Saul’s story establishes a principle worth considering: a servant of God is never a substitute for God, and seeking the servant does not repair a relationship with the Master.

Then Why Do I Need Another Mediator?

Roman Catholic teaching deserves to be represented accurately. Catholicism does not officially teach that saints are additional gods competing with Jesus. It understands the saints within the communion of the Church and teaches that saints in heaven may intercede for believers. The strongest biblical objection is therefore not simply to accuse Catholics of worshiping dead people. The more difficult question is this: Why do I need another intermediary?

“For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.”
1 Timothy 2:5

That verse does not belittle faithful believers who have gone before us. It puts them in their proper place while putting Christ in His. Moses is not my mediator. Elijah is not my mediator. Samuel is not my mediator. Peter is not my mediator. Paul is not my mediator. Mary is not my mediator. Jesus Christ is my mediator. Saints may testify concerning Christ, prophets may point toward Christ, and apostles may preach Christ, but none of them reconciled sinful humanity to God. That belongs to Jesus.

We Already Have Access

The wonder of the Gospel is not that Jesus brings us close enough to God that we can begin searching for somebody else to carry us the rest of the way. Jesus Himself is the way.

“For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father.”
Ephesians 2:18

Look carefully at that movement: through Him, by the Spirit, unto the Father. The believer does not have to stand outside God’s throne room searching for someone spiritually important enough to obtain an audience. Jesus Himself taught His disciples to pray, “Our Father.” Hebrews tells us to come boldly to the throne of grace. If Christ has already opened the door, why are we searching for another entrance?

Honor Is Not Mediation

There is nothing wrong with honoring faithful believers who came before us. Scripture remembers the faithfulness of God’s people across generations. Their faith encourages us, their failures warn us, and their lives can strengthen our own walk. But honoring someone is not the same thing as making that person part of our approach to God. I can thank God for Peter without praying to Peter. I can admire Paul’s faith without asking Paul to carry my prayer to Christ. I can recognize Mary’s extraordinary place in the history of redemption without requiring Mary to provide access to her Son. They have their places within God’s redemptive story, but they are not its center. Jesus is.

The Danger of Building Three Tabernacles

Perhaps Peter’s instinct on that mountain exposes something that exists within all of us. Human beings love building tabernacles. We build them around people, movements, denominations, theological systems, traditions, pastors, teachers, reformers, saints, and even particular eras of church history. Something God genuinely used can gradually become something we elevate until our attention subtly shifts from the One who used it. Then heaven speaks into our tabernacle-building: “This is my beloved Son… hear ye him.”

This is where Protestants need to stop congratulating themselves. We may never kneel before the image of a saint, yet we can elevate a favorite preacher or theologian until that person’s interpretation becomes practically unquestionable. We can do the same thing with catechisms, confessions, systematic theologies, denominational statements, and traditions. Those things are not necessarily wrong. Good theology is a gift. The problem begins when the servant replaces the Master, the signpost replaces the destination, or the thing that testifies about Christ becomes a substitute for coming to Christ Himself.

When We Start Looking for Another Way

The problem beneath all of this is ultimately a problem of the heart. Human beings have a recurring tendency to seek alternate spiritual routes when trust and obedience become difficult. Saul reached backward for Samuel. Peter wanted to preserve the moment by building three tabernacles. Religious people throughout history have repeatedly been tempted to build systems around those whom God used rather than continuing toward the God to whom those servants pointed. The forms change, but the temptation remains: give me something I can consult, systematize, or control rather than requiring me to trust the living God with all my heart.

“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”
Proverbs 3:5

The Saints Should Point Us to Jesus

A genuine servant of God should never want to become the destination. John the Baptist expressed the heart of true ministry perfectly: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” If Moses could stand before us today, where would Moses point us? Jesus said Moses wrote concerning Him. If Elijah stood before us, would Elijah direct attention toward himself or toward the God whose Word he proclaimed? The faithful servant continually points beyond himself: Don’t stop with me. Look to Him.

I See Dead People

So yes, the Bible shows us departed servants of God. Samuel appears in that strange and troubling episode at Endor. Moses and Elijah appear with Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration. But notice what Scripture does with those encounters. Saul goes looking for Samuel because he desperately wants spiritual direction, and Samuel asks why Saul is consulting him. Peter unexpectedly sees Moses and Elijah standing with Christ and wants to build three tabernacles, but heaven interrupts him: “This is my beloved Son… hear ye him.” Then the disciples lift their eyes. Moses is gone. Elijah is gone. Scripture leaves us with one of the simplest and most profound pictures imaginable: “They saw no man, save Jesus only.”

Perhaps that is the picture the Church needs again. We can remember those who came before us, honor their faithfulness, learn from their testimony, read their writings, and thank God for their obedience. But we do not need to build another tabernacle. We do not need another mediator. We do not need another way to the Father. The Law couldn’t get us there. The prophets couldn’t get us there. The saints can’t get us there. Our denominations can’t get us there. Our theological systems can’t get us there. Religion can’t get us there. But Jesus did.

He crossed the chasm, reconciled sinful humanity to God, opened the way into the Father’s presence, and invited us to come. So when every other figure fades from view, when every human name resumes its proper place, and when every substitute we have constructed falls to the ground, may we lift our eyes and discover again what Peter, James, and John discovered on that mountain: No man, save Jesus only.

When Government Takes a Left Turn, Ruin Quickly Follows

Allen Frederick Leave a comment
A biblical warning about spiritual deception, political salvation, and the King who alone belongs on the throne

There is something deeper behind the political condition of a nation than parties, platforms, elections, and personalities. Scripture tells us that spiritual forces are at work in this world, including what John calls “the spirit of antichrist,” a spirit opposed to the truth and authority of Jesus Christ.

“And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that spirit of antichrist… and even now already is it in the world.”
1 John 4:3

That spirit does not always announce itself by openly declaring war against God. Deception is more effective when rebellion is disguised as enlightenment, bondage as compassion, dependence as security, and human government as the answer to problems that are ultimately spiritual.

“For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them…”
1 Thessalonians 5:3

There is something tremendously appealing about peace and safety. Tell frightened people that you can protect them, provide for them, remove their risks, solve their problems, and secure their future, and they may willingly surrender things they would never relinquish by force. The deception works because the promise tells people something they desperately want to hear.

Tell Us What We Want to Hear

Paul warned Timothy that a time would come when people would no longer endure sound doctrine, but would gather teachers around themselves according to their own desires. The problem, therefore, would not merely be deceptive teachers. There would also be willing listeners.

That principle reaches beyond the pulpit. People choose pastors who affirm what they already believe, commentators who reinforce what they already think, and political leaders who promise what they already desire. Eventually truth itself becomes offensive because truth sometimes tells us precisely what we do not want to hear.

Give Us a King

That brings us directly to 1 Samuel 8. Israel came to Samuel demanding a king “like all the nations.” They wanted visible leadership, political security, and a ruler who would fight their battles.

“They have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, that I should not reign over them.”
1 Samuel 8:7

Israel thought it was making a political decision. God called it a spiritual rejection. They wanted visible human power instead of dependence upon God, and He warned them exactly what their political salvation would cost.

The king would take their sons and daughters, their fields and vineyards, their harvests and livestock. The government they expected to serve them would eventually make servants of them.

“And ye shall be his servants.”
1 Samuel 8:17

God warned them plainly. They wanted the king anyway.

Before Government Takes, Government Promises

Government seldom begins by saying, “Give us greater control over your life.” It says, “Let us help you.” It promises security, provision, protection, fairness, peace and safety.

The danger arises when people begin expecting government to provide what belongs to God, family, personal responsibility, community, and conscience. The more government is expected to give, the more government eventually must take.

Israel discovered that truth thousands of years ago. They wanted a king to fight their battles. They got Saul. But when Goliath appeared, their political savior stood frightened with everyone else. Deliverance came through David, a shepherd whose confidence rested not in office or military power, but in the Lord.

“I come to thee in the name of the LORD of hosts…”
1 Samuel 17:45

Israel wanted a king. God reminded them that they still needed Him.

The Left Turn

That is what I mean by a nation taking a “left turn.” It is deeper than Democrat versus Republican. It is the ancient spiritual turn away from God’s authority toward confidence in human power.

The left can promise salvation through government programs and centralized authority. The right can fall into the same trap by placing messianic expectations upon politicians, personalities, national power, or political victory. Antichrist is not simply “the other political party.” The spirit of antichrist is opposed to Christ.

That makes the political question much larger than “Who will govern us?” The biblical question is: Who will reign over us?

America’s founding principle that our fundamental rights come from the Creator rather than government recognizes an essential distinction. Government does not create our liberty, and therefore should not become its master.

Government Is Not God

Civil government has a legitimate purpose. It should administer justice, restrain wrongdoing, and protect the innocent. But government cannot redeem the human heart, legislate righteousness into existence, manufacture peace, or save us.

Yet political salvation remains attractive because it requires something much easier than repentance: a vote. Repentance requires us to change. Political salvation merely requires us to change who is in charge.

The Turn We Really Need

That is why another election alone cannot heal America. Elections matter. Laws matter. Leadership matters. But politics cannot cure a spiritual disease.

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways…”
2 Chronicles 7:14

Notice the direction. God does not begin by telling His people to change the government. He tells His people to turn.

While everyone argues about whether America should turn left or right, Scripture calls God’s people to make an entirely different turn: back to God.

When Christ is displaced, no political movement can save us. When truth becomes unwanted, people will find leaders willing to tell them what they want to hear. And when government assumes the place of provider, protector, and savior, Samuel’s warning begins sounding remarkably familiar: the king will take.

So vote. Participate. Discern. Hold leaders accountable. But never confuse Caesar with Christ.

Government can occupy an office. Only Jesus belongs on the throne.

Trick or Treat: The Bitter Beneath the Sweet

Allen Frederick Leave a comment
A Prophetic Call to Axe the Root, Smash the Altar, and Restore True Worship

The Siren Song of the Canopy

When autumn arrives, the culture presents a visually captivating scene: colorful falling leaves, cozy cornstalks, glowing pumpkins, and innocent family fellowship. Like the mythical Sirens whose sweet songs lured sailors to destruction, the aesthetic of October 31st sings an attractive tune. It invites the Church to admire the beauty of the leaves, listen to children’s laughter, and enjoy the sweetness of candy—all while calling the celebration harmless fun.

A common modern defense rests on the premise that, because idols have no inherent physical power, participating in Halloween is merely harmless make-believe. But this argument makes a grave spiritual error: it evaluates a tree solely by its leaves while ignoring its root and its fruit.

“A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit.”
— Matthew 7:18

When believers admire the aesthetic canopy of a festival associated with darkness, they risk falling into the same pattern of seduction that beguiled Eve in the Garden of Eden—choosing what pleases the eyes over obedience to God’s command.

The Edenic Beguilement: Good to Look At, Good to Eat

In Genesis 3, the serpent did not present sin as grotesque, terrifying, or vile. He presented it as beautiful, intellectually liberating, and wholly desirable. When Eve looked at the forbidden tree, Scripture records three fatal impressions:

“So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.”
— Genesis 3:6

This is the same mechanism by which the Bride of Christ can be beguiled today. The modern celebration of October 31st—whether observed on neighborhood sidewalks or adapted for church parking lots under the banner of “family outreach”—is presented as good to look at (festive lights and cheerful costumes) and good to eat (sweet candy and community fellowship).

Yet, just as in Eden, stepping beyond God’s holy boundaries to taste the sweetness of a cultural counterfeit brings spiritual poison. When the Church accommodates what it should expose, it repeats Eden’s tragedy, trading the unblemished glory of God for the decaying fruit of human pragmatism.

From Samhain to the American Halloween

Ancient Samhain was a seasonal Gaelic festival marking summer’s end and the approach of winter. Although evidence for its earliest rites is incomplete, the surviving historical tradition consistently associates the season with sacred fire, divination, the dead, fear of otherworldly beings, disguises, and offerings intended to appease spiritual powers. Those features place Samhain within the broad category of pagan religious practice that Scripture commands God’s people neither to imitate nor adapt for worship.

The name All Hallows’ Eve is Christian: it denotes the evening before All Saints’ Day. Yet as Christianity spread through Celtic lands, the church calendar and older seasonal customs existed alongside one another and, in popular practice, sometimes blended. Bonfires, disguises, concern with wandering spirits, divination, guising, and offerings of food survived in changing forms. Thus the modern observance is not simply identical to ancient Samhain, but neither is it historically detached from the pre-Christian religious world that shaped many of its enduring symbols.

Irish and Scottish immigrants carried related customs to North America during the nineteenth century. Turnip lanterns became pumpkin jack-o’-lanterns; guising, souling, and neighborhood mischief contributed to door-to-door solicitation; and the phrase “trick or treat” emerged in North America during the 1920s. After the Second World War, suburban neighborhoods, mass-produced costumes, and individually wrapped candy transformed the observance into a national children’s festival.

American commerce softened the appearance but preserved much of the old symbolic vocabulary: ghosts, witches, divination, frightening disguises, wandering dead, appeasement through food, and ritualized demands at the door. The candy is modern; the pumpkins are American; the retail machinery is recent. But the imaginative world being marketed still draws upon inherited themes of death, spirits, fear, disguise, and supernatural power. For the Church, the question is therefore not whether every modern participant consciously practices pagan worship. The question is whether changing the packaging changes the spiritual meaning of the symbols and customs being celebrated.

The Golden Calf Syncretism: Polishing Baal in the Parking Lot

To trace how such compromise enters the house of God, we must examine the ancient pattern of syncretism. Syncretism blends pagan forms, rituals, or calendar rhythms with the worship of the true God, on the assumption that religious language can “sanitize” the borrowed tradition.

When Israel grew impatient at the base of Mount Sinai, Aaron did not openly declare allegiance to an Egyptian deity; he fashioned a golden calf and proclaimed, “Tomorrow shall be a feast to the Lord” (Exodus 32:5). The people adopted a pagan form—a visible idol crafted by human hands—and attempted to direct worship through it toward the Lord. God’s anger burned against them because the manner of worship mattered to Him.

“Take care that you be not ensnared to follow them… and that you do not inquire about their gods, saying, ‘How did these nations serve their gods?—that I may do likewise.’ You shall not worship the Lord your God in that way.”
— Deuteronomy 12:30–31

Moving a festival historically associated with Samhain—an observance linked with fear of spirits and ritual appeasement—into a church parking lot and wrapping it in Christian terminology risks repeating the logic of the golden calf. It seeks to baptize a pagan form rather than reject it. Throughout Israel’s history, comparable compromises led to spiritual blindness, God’s righteous judgment, and bondage to the customs Israel had adopted.

Where Is Jesus in These Traditions?

This is the question the Church must stop avoiding: where is Jesus in these traditions? Scripture does not show Him observing Samhain, All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, or All Souls’ Day. It does not show Him sanctifying customs built around wandering spirits, disguises, divination, appeasement of the dead, or prayer directed toward the departed. Giving such observances Christian names does not establish the authority of Christ behind them.

Jesus did, however, walk within the appointed times revealed by God. He went up to Jerusalem for Passover (Luke 2:41–42; John 2:13), taught during the Feast of Tabernacles (John 7:2, 14, 37–38), and fulfilled the meaning of Passover through His death and resurrection (Luke 22:14–20; 1 Corinthians 5:7–8). The apostles likewise proclaimed Him through the pattern of Passover, Firstfruits, and Pentecost. God’s calendar was not an empty ritual system; it was a prophetic framework pointing to the Messiah.

The tragedy is not merely that institutional Christianity added observances Scripture never commands. It is that the Church elevated those traditions while largely neglecting the appointed times God explicitly declared to be “the feasts of the Lord” (Leviticus 23:2). Passover, Unleavened Bread, Firstfruits, Weeks, Trumpets, Atonement, and Tabernacles reveal God’s redemptive order. Yet many believers know the symbols of Halloween more readily than the appointed times that illuminate the work of Christ.

This reveals the deeper conflict: mankind prefers a calendar it can reshape, commercialize, and control. God’s appointed times require us to enter His pattern on His terms. Human tradition asks God to bless what we have chosen; biblical obedience receives what He has already appointed. When our preferred customs resemble the religious practices of the nations more than the pattern modeled by Jesus, Deuteronomy 12:30–31 confronts us: “You shall not worship the Lord your God in that way.”

The issue, therefore, is not whether candy is physically evil or whether every child understands pagan history. The issue is authority. Why imitate a world of masks, spirits, fear, and death when God has given His people a better way—an appointed calendar centered upon redemption, holiness, harvest, atonement, the coming Kingdom, and Jesus the Messiah?

Critics will still cry foul, but their indignation exposes the imbalance this article confronts. Many will defend Halloween, All Hallows’ Eve, and inherited church customs with greater urgency than they defend the feasts God actually calls His own. They will research every possible argument for preserving a man-made observance, yet show little interest in Passover, Unleavened Bread, Firstfruits, Weeks, Trumpets, Atonement, or Tabernacles. They demand generous allowances for tradition while treating God’s appointed times as obsolete, foreign, burdensome, or irrelevant.

That disparity is not a minor inconsistency; it is evidence of misplaced allegiance. Why does questioning an inherited custom provoke more resistance than neglecting an explicit appointment of God? Why are believers offended when a cultural celebration is examined, yet unmoved when the calendar Jesus honored is ignored? The issue is not merely which days appear on a calendar. It is whether our zeal belongs to the commandments of God or to the traditions we inherited from men (Mark 7:8–9).

The Jezebel Influence and the Cowardice of Compromise

Why does the institutional Church repeatedly yield to this seasonal rhythm? Beneath familiar appeals to relevance and outreach may lie a quieter motive: fear—the fear of social rejection, of being labeled “intolerant,” and of provoking influential cultural voices.

This pattern can be compared to the biblical influence of Jezebel: a system of intimidation that controls the narrative, pressures believers toward cultural compliance, and threatens social ostracism against those who call for uncompromising holiness. Under such pressure, believers may retreat like Elijah beneath the broom tree, convinced that they stand alone.

“The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.”
— Proverbs 29:25

God met Elijah in that place of fear and isolation, corrected his distorted sense of being alone, and reminded him that an uncompromised remnant remained. Submission to intimidation paralyzes the prophetic voice.

Elijah and the Mandate to Tear Down the Altar

True revival has never come through accommodating counterfeits; it has come through the bold and uncompromising confrontation of false altars.

On Mount Carmel, Elijah did not negotiate with the 450 prophets of Baal. He brought the contest into public view, repaired the broken altar of the Lord, and called upon God, who answered with fire (1 Kings 18). The biblical record—not a later legend—establishes the governing principle: God’s people are called to reject false worship, restore the true altar, and refuse accommodation with idolatry.

Samhain was not historically the worship of the Canaanite deity Baal, but the similarities are spiritually significant. Both systems arose outside God’s appointed pattern and organized communal life around sacred seasons, agricultural concerns, unseen powers, ritual acts, and the hope of protection or favor. The comparison is therefore theological, not genealogical: Scripture places the religions of the nations under the same prohibition—“You shall not worship the Lord your God in that way” (Deuteronomy 12:31).

Scripture repeatedly shows that tolerated altars remain recurring snares. Gideon was commanded to tear down Baal’s altar and cut down the Asherah beside it (Judges 6:25–26). Josiah broke the pillars, cut down the Asherim, defiled the high places, and removed the vessels made for Baal and the host of heaven (2 Kings 23:4–14). Israel was told not to rename, repurpose, or manage the nations’ sacred objects, but to break their pillars, burn their Asherim, and destroy their names from the place (Deuteronomy 7:5; 12:2–3).

This is why the seasonal counterfeit persists. It has been commercialized, sentimentalized, and repeatedly given Christian alternatives, but rarely confronted at the root. The altar was moved rather than demolished; its symbols were repackaged rather than renounced; its calendar was accommodated rather than rejected. What is not torn down continues to demand recognition from the next generation.

Elijah’s confrontation therefore remains urgent. He did not organize a family-friendly version of Baal’s feast or place the Lord’s name over Baal’s altar. He exposed the false worship, called Israel to choose whom it would follow, repaired the altar of the Lord, and demonstrated that the Lord alone is God. Revival begins when divided allegiance ends.

“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.”
— Ephesians 5:11

The Remnant Standard: Fruit Fit for the Kingdom

The goal of the Remnant is not to produce fruit that appeals to the world—fruit pleasing to the eyes and sweet to the taste of a fallen culture. Our mandate is to bear fruit fit for the Kingdom of Heaven, flowing from steadfast obedience to God’s Word.

The axe has been laid to the root of the tree (Matthew 3:10). The siren song has been unmasked. Syncretism within the Church and intimidation from the surrounding culture must be cast aside. It is time to refuse participation in customs built upon darkness, recover the appointed times of the Lord, teach the next generation the beauty of set-apart holiness (kadosh), and follow the pattern modeled by Jesus. The Church does not need a baptized counterfeit. It needs the Messiah at the center, the Word as its authority, and worship ordered according to God’s better way.

Beyond “Why Me?”: Finding Trust in the Midst of the Storm

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Then the Lord answered Job from the whirlwind. He said: “Who is this who obscures My counsel with ignorant words? Get ready to answer Me like a man; when I question you, you will inform Me.” — Job 38:1–3

Job was a righteous man who, from a human perspective, did nothing to deserve his hardship. He lived a blameless life, honored God, and walked uprightly. Yet, when devastating tragedy struck, Job cried out in grief and questioned why God was allowing such agony.

The moment the Lord spoke, Job realized the weight of who he was addressing. God responded to Job’s questioning with a series of sobering, awe-inspiring questions of His own:
“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Where were you when I set the boundaries for the sea? Where were you when I hung the stars in the heavens?”
God’s response humbled Job instantly. It reminded him that finite human understanding cannot begin to grasp the depth of infinite divine wisdom.
It is easy for us to fall into the trap of thinking we have everything figured out—until God steps in and reveals just how vast He is and how small we are. As the Psalmist writes, only a fool says in his heart there is no God. When faced with His divine presence, all self-importance vanishes, leaving us speechless.
We aren’t as wise or in control as we like to imagine. True strength begins when we humble ourselves before God, submit to His sovereign wisdom, and choose to trust and praise Him—even when the answers don’t come in the way we expect.

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.