Tag faith

Wednesday Worship: Jesus Paid It All

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

Opening Reflection

Hebrews 10 invites us to stand before the cross with clear eyes and a quieted heart. It reminds us that the law was never the destination. It was only the shadow of a greater reality yet to be revealed. The sacrifices of the Old Testament expose sin, but they never erase it. They bring people near, but they can not make them clean.

Christ, nevertheless, offered one sacrifice for sins for all time—and then He sat down. His work was finished. His offering was done. His blood accomplished what the law never could. It cleansed the conscience. It perfected those who draw near.

This is the truth that the beloved hymn Jesus Paid It All proclaims with such simplicity and power. Every believer confesses this. They have discovered that their hope does not rest in their own efforts. Instead, it rests in the finished work of Christ.

Scripture Anchor: Hebrews 10:12–14 (ESV)

“But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God… For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”

Devotional

Hebrews 10 opens with a sobering reminder: the law was never meant to be the final answer. It was a shadow—a silhouette cast by something greater that had not yet appeared. The sacrifices of the Old Testament exposed sin, but they never erased it. They brought people near, but did not make them clean.

If the blood of bulls and goats had truly cleansed the conscience, the offerings would have stopped. But they didn’t. Year after year, the priests stood—always standing, always sacrificing—because the work was never finished. The very repetition of the sacrifices was proof of their insufficiency.

Hebrews 10:12 interrupts with the gospel in a single sentence. Christ offered one sacrifice for sins for all time. Then He sat down. The priests stood because their work was never done. Christ sat down because His work was finished.

This is the heart of the chapter: we do nothing because Jesus has done everything.

His sacrifice is not one more offering in a long line of attempts. It is the final offering. It is the perfect offering. It is the once-for-all offering. It actually cleanses the conscience and perfects those who draw near. The blood of Christ does what the law could never do—it makes us clean, whole, forgiven, and welcomed.

And this is where the hymn Jesus Paid It All becomes more than a song. It becomes a confession of faith that rises straight out of Hebrews 10. The hymn writer understood what the writer of Hebrews proclaimed. Our efforts and our striving cannot make us presentable before God. Our spiritual disciplines and attempts to “be better” are insufficient. None of these can make us presentable before God. They are good, but they are not atoning. They are helpful, but they are not saving.

We do not approach God because we have prayed enough. We do not approach God because we have behaved well enough. We do not approach God because we have avoided sin long enough. We approach God because Jesus paid it all.

And that changes everything.

Have you ever hesitated to come to God because you felt unworthy? Have you ever tried to “clean yourself up” before praying again? Have you ever believed the lie that you need a streak of good days before God will welcome you?

Hebrews 10 dismantles that lie. The hymn reinforces it. The cross settles it.

Your confidence before God is not rooted in your performance—it is rooted in Christ’s finished work. His sacrifice is not fragile. His blood is not temporary. His cleansing is not conditional. You are invited to draw near, not because you are worthy, but because He is.

So take a moment and ask yourself: Where am I still trying to offer God my own sacrifices?

  • My discipline
  • My consistency
  • My ministry
  • My moral effort
  • My attempts to “make up” for my failures

All of these things matter—but none of them save.

You are a son. You are a daughter. Not by your offerings, but by His.

And that is why generations have sung, and will continue to sing, that simple, liberating truth: Jesus paid it all. Not some. Not most. Not the part you can’t fix. All.

Hymn: Jesus Paid It All

Words: Elvina M. Hall (1865)
Music: John T. Grape (1868)

Verse 1
I hear the Savior say,
Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
Find in Me thine all in all.

Refrain
Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

Verse 2
Lord, now indeed I find
Thy power and Thine alone,
Can change the leper’s spots
And melt the heart of stone.

Refrain
Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

Verse 3
For nothing good have I
Whereby Thy grace to claim;
I’ll wash my garments white
In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb.

Refrain
Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

Verse 4
And when before the throne
I stand in Him complete,
“Jesus died my soul to save,”
My lips shall still repeat.

Refrain
Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

Jesus Paid It All: take time to meditate upon this great hymn as you are reminded as to how great a love the Lord has bestowed upon us, sinners as we are.

About the Hymnwriter

Elvina M. Hall wrote the words to Jesus Paid It All. She was sitting in the choir loft of Monument Street Methodist Church in Baltimore. As she listened to the sermon, the lines began forming in her heart—a simple, profound declaration of Christ’s sufficiency. John T. Grape, the church organist, later composed the tune that carried her words into the worship of generations.

The hymn endures because its message is timeless: Christ has done what we could never do. His sacrifice is enough.

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus, thank You for Your once-for-all sacrifice. Thank You that You have done what the law could never do. Thank You that we can draw near with confidence, not because of our worthiness, but because of Your finished work. Teach us to rest in the truth that You paid it all. Amen.

Benediction

May the God who perfected you through the sacrifice of His Son fill you with confidence. May He also fill you with peace and joy as you draw near to Him. Walk in the freedom of the cross. Know that Jesus paid it all. Nothing can be added to His finished work.

In One Ear and Out the Other: When the Word Never Reaches the Heart

Allen Frederick Leave a comment


A Funny Story With a Not‑So‑Funny Truth

Three men went deer hunting, and as they crossed a field on their way to the woods, a massive buck jumped up right in front of them. All three fired at the same moment. The buck dropped instantly, and the men hurried over—only to realize they had a problem. Who actually shot the deer?

As they stood there debating, a game warden approached to check licenses. Hearing the dilemma, he knelt down, examined the buck, and said, “One of you is a preacher, right?” Sure enough, one of them was. The warden nodded and said, “Well, the preacher’s the one who got him.” The men stared at him in disbelief. “How can you know that?” The warden shrugged. “Simple. The bullet went in one ear and out the other.”

It’s a humorous story, but beneath the laughter lies a sobering truth—one James warned the church about with prophetic clarity when he wrote, “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (James 1:22).

When Hearing Becomes Self‑Deception

Hearing is not the problem. Hearing without obeying is. A message that goes in one ear and out the other never reaches the heart, and the heart is the only place where real transformation takes place. Jesus Himself said the greatest commandment is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). The mind matters. The mind is essential. But the mind is not the destination. It is the doorway. The heart is the target.

The preacher in the story fired a shot that passed through the deer’s head but never touched the heart. It produced death, not life. It left a carcass, not a conversion. And that is exactly what happens when the Word of God is received only at the level of intellect. It may pass through the mind, but if it never penetrates the heart, it cannot produce obedience, repentance, or new life. It becomes information without transformation.

A Wound That Never Heals Becomes Fatal

Here is the deeper truth: a bullet that never reaches the heart can still kill you. It can wound you. It can tear flesh, rupture arteries, and leave you bleeding out. A wound is not harmless simply because it missed the center.

And the same is true of the Word when it is only received intellectually. A sermon aimed at the mind alone may not transform you, but it can still wound you. It can leave you convicted but unchanged, aware of truth but still resisting it. You can feel the sting of conviction without ever surrendering to it. And that kind of wound, left unattended, becomes spiritually fatal.

The writer of Hebrews says, “The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two‑edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12). The Word is designed to pierce. It is meant to cut deep enough to expose motives, confront sin, and bring healing through repentance. But when the Word is only admired, analyzed, or agreed with—when it is heard but not obeyed—it becomes a cut that never closes. Over time, the soul begins to hemorrhage. Not because the Word failed, but because the heart never yielded.

When the Lips Say “Amen” but the Heart Stays Distant

Jesus described this condition when He said, “This people honors Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me” (Matthew 15:8). The mind can say “Amen” while the heart remains untouched. The intellect can applaud truth while the will refuses to bow to it.

James continues this warning by saying, “For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror… and goes away and at once forgets what he was like” (James 1:23–24). The problem is not the hearing. The problem is the forgetting. The problem is the lack of response. The problem is the absence of obedience.

Truth that only grazes the mind can still leave a person spiritually dying. Truth that never reaches the heart cannot save. Truth that never produces obedience becomes a slow bleed. Eternal death does not always come from outright rebellion. Sometimes it comes from a lifetime of sermons that never penetrated deeper than the intellect.

The Word Must Be Received With Surrender, Not Just Agreement

This is why preaching must aim for the heart. This is why hearing must lead to doing. This is why the Word must be received with surrender, not merely agreement. Jesus said, “Everyone then who hears these words of Mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock” (Matthew 7:24). Hearing is the beginning. Doing is the evidence. Obedience is the fruit. Transformation is the result.

Do not let God’s Word pass through you without penetrating you. Do not let it skim the surface of your mind without sinking into the soil of your heart. Do not let it go in one ear and out the other. Slow down. Meditate. Respond. Obey. Let the Word reach the place where life is changed. Let it pierce, not to destroy, but to heal. Let it cut, not to wound, but to free. Let it strike the heart, for only there does the Word bring life. It isn’t about how much Bible you know or can quote but how much you actually put into practice.

Don’t let His Word go in one ear

and right out the other!

The Indwelling Christ: A Test of True Faith

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

A Call to Honest Examination

Paul’s command in 2 Corinthians 13:5 is not gentle counsel but a summons: “Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves.” He does not ask us to recall a moment of sincerity or to lean on a memory of spiritual awakening. He calls us to look honestly at the present reality of our inner life. The question is not whether we once believed, but whether Christ is truly dwelling within us now. Paul presses the point further: “Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you—unless, of course, you fail the test?” The test is not about religious activity. It is about indwelling. It is about whether the life of Christ is actually present and active within the believer.

Christ Within: The Only True Evidence

Scripture makes this standard unmistakably clear. Paul writes, “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). If Christ is in us, there is hope. If Christ is not in us, there is no glory at all. John echoes this reality when he says, “He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life” (1 John 5:12). Life is not found in religious familiarity but in union with Christ Himself. Paul goes even further in Romans 8:9: “If anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ.” The dividing line is not church attendance, doctrinal agreement, or moral behavior. The dividing line is the presence or absence of Christ within.

The Danger of Overestimating Ourselves

This is why Paul warns us not to overestimate our spiritual condition. “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought” (Romans 12:3). We are prone to assume devotion because we participate in religious environments. We sit in church, we sing the songs, we nod at the sermons, and we assume these things testify on our behalf. Yet Jesus confronted the most religious people of His day with devastating clarity: “This people honors Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me” (Matthew 15:8). External proximity is not internal reality. The Pharisees prayed, fasted, tithed, taught Scripture, and yet Jesus said, “You are like whitewashed tombs… outwardly you appear righteous to men, but within you are full of dead men’s bones” (Matthew 23:27). They failed the test not because they lacked religious activity, but because they lacked the indwelling Christ.

The Voice That Reveals Our Allegiance

Jesus Himself defined the test of true discipleship with piercing simplicity: “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27). The evidence of belonging to Christ is not merely hearing Christian voices but hearing His. It is not following Christian culture but following Him. The modern church has trained many believers to outsource their spiritual discernment to pastors, authors, influencers, and institutions. Yet Jesus did not say, “My sheep hear their pastor’s voice.” He said they hear His. And He warned that many who assume they belong to Him will discover otherwise: “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of My Father” (Matthew 7:21). Words are not proof. Obedience is.

The First Commandment as the True Measure

This is why the first commandment is the true measure of the heart. Jesus said, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). That word all dismantles every rival authority. To love God with all your mind means His Word outranks the voices of media, academia, science, politics, and even our own understanding. Proverbs speaks directly to this: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). To love Him with all your heart means no affection competes with His. To love Him with all your strength means obedience is not occasional but the natural outflow of devotion. Jesus tied love and obedience together when He said, “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). Love without obedience is sentiment. Obedience without love is religion. True discipleship holds both.

Adam, Eve, and Abraham: Two Portraits of the Test

Scripture gives us two vivid portraits of this test. Adam and Eve failed it because they trusted another voice above God’s. The serpent questioned God’s character, and they embraced the lie. The text says, “When the woman saw that the tree was good for food… she took of its fruit and ate” (Genesis 3:6). They trusted their eyes over God’s Word. They leaned on their own understanding instead of His command. Their failure was not about fruit; it was about allegiance. Abraham, by contrast, passed the test because he trusted God’s character even when the command made no sense. When God said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love… and offer him there” (Genesis 22:2), Abraham obeyed. Hebrews explains why: “He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead” (Hebrews 11:19). Abraham trusted God’s voice above his own logic, above his emotions, above the visible circumstances. That is what passing the test looks like.

The Inner Witness of the Spirit

When Paul tells us to examine ourselves, he is calling us into that same clarity. He is asking whether Christ is truly the center of our affections, the anchor of our decisions, the voice that shapes our convictions, and the Lord who governs our steps. John gives us a simple diagnostic: “By this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments” (1 John 2:3). Not perfectly, but sincerely. Not flawlessly, but faithfully. The presence of Christ produces repentance, humility, endurance, holiness, and a growing love for truth. The absence of Christ produces apathy, compromise, self‑rule, and selective obedience. Paul’s command is not meant to create fear but honesty. It is not meant to condemn but to reveal. And when Christ truly dwells within us, His Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God (Romans 8:16).

Christ in You: The Only Hope of Glory

For if Christ is in us, His presence will not remain hidden. His life will press outward. His voice will rise above the noise. His truth will confront our excuses. His holiness will shape our conduct. And His glory will begin to take form within us, even in quiet and unseen ways. But if Christ is not in us—if our faith is merely cultural, inherited, intellectual, or performative—then no amount of religious activity can compensate for His absence. Jesus warned of this with sobering clarity: “Apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). Without Him, we may appear spiritual, but we will lack the life that only He can give.

Returning to the Center

This is why Paul’s command matters. It calls us back to the center. It calls us to the first love. It calls us to the first commandment. It calls us to the living Christ who does not merely inspire from a distance but dwells within those who belong to Him. The hope of glory is not found in our performance, our knowledge, our traditions, or our religious habits. The hope of glory is Christ in us. And nothing less will do.


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”

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.