WHAT MUST COME DOWN BEFORE GOING UP

A Resurrection Reality Check for a Farcical Season

The Rhythm of Descent and Ascent

There is a rhythm woven into the Kingdom of God that the world cannot imitate and religion cannot counterfeit. It is the rhythm of holy descent followed by God‑given ascent, the pattern of a God who steps down so that He may raise the humble up. Heaven’s gravity works in reverse. What comes down in God’s hands does not remain down, because the Lord delights in lifting the lowly. Before anything rises in the Kingdom, something must bow. Before anything is exalted, something must kneel. Before anything goes up, something must come down.

This is not punishment but posture. It is the way of Christ, the way of the cross, and the way of every saint who has ever been raised by the power of God.

The Pattern of Humility from the Beginning

Moses came down from the mountain carrying the Word, the covenant, and the revelation of God’s character. “When Moses came down from Mount Sinai… the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.” (Exodus 34:29). Yet Israel did not rejoice in what came down. They were too busy worshiping what they had lifted up, a golden calf of their own making. Humanity has always preferred what ascends when we are the ones climbing. We build towers, chase platforms, exalt ourselves, and admire the view from the top.

But God overturns this instinct. The Kingdom begins with going down, not in defeat but in humility, not in shame but in surrender, not in weakness but in obedience.

The Descent of Christ: The Model of All Humility

Jesus did not descend because He was defeated. He descended because He was humble. “Though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to cling to, but emptied Himself… He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6–8). He came down from glory, laid down His rights, bowed down in obedience, and humbled Himself for our sake. His descent was not accidental but intentional. Because He went down in humility, the Father raised Him up in glory. “Therefore God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name.” (Philippians 2:9).

This is the law of the Kingdom: what bows low is lifted high.

Paul: Struck Down to Be Raised Up

Paul understood this truth because he lived it. He was the rising star of Judaism, educated, disciplined, respected, and zealous. Yet when Christ appeared, Paul had to be struck down before he could truly see. He fell to the ground, blinded and helpless. “He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?’” (Acts 9:4). Every accomplishment he once boasted in, he now called loss. “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3:8).

Paul discovered that humility is not the lowest place but the safest place. It is the beginning of resurrection.

The Descent and Ascent of Jesus

Jesus came down from the cross lifeless and wrapped in linen. He went down into the grave sealed and guarded. He went down into the depths, into the territory hell believed it owned. “He also descended into the lower parts of the earth.” (Ephesians 4:9). Every downward step looked like loss, yet in the Kingdom, down is never the destination. It is the doorway.

The same Jesus who descended also rose. He went up the hill, up the mountain of transfiguration, up out of the grave, and up into heaven. “He was taken up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight.” (Acts 1:9). He will one day raise His people with Him. “He raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 2:6).

This is the divine reversal: what comes down in humility must go up in glory.

The Farce of Our Seasonal Jesus

Every year the church calendar reenacts the same tragic cycle. In December, Christ is placed back in the cradle—small, harmless, and sentimental. In spring, He is placed back in the tomb—tragic, noble, and safely contained. Then the props are packed away, the pageantry folded, and life returns to normal.

We reenact His birth, His death, and His burial, but we rarely reenact His reign. We do not enthrone Him, crown Him, or place Him at the center of our will. We keep Christ in the cradle because a baby makes no demands. We keep Christ in the tomb because a dead man issues no commands. But a risen, reigning Christ requires surrender.

We treat the resurrection as a holiday rather than a hierarchy, as a story rather than a sovereign, as a symbol rather than a King. This is why the calendar feels farcical: it keeps Christ rotating through roles He has already outgrown. He is not the baby in the manger, the victim on the cross, or the body in the tomb. He is the Head of the Church, the Lord of Glory, and the One seated far above all rule and authority.

Israel made the same mistake with the ark. They carried the ark on their shoulders, proud of their proximity to God, but they never embraced the God within the ark. They carried Him, but they never let Him carry them. We do the same. We carry Jesus into our holidays, traditions, and services, but we do not let Him carry our will, our obedience, or our lives.

The Real Resurrection Direction

The resurrection does not point down to the cradle, back to the cross, inward to our emotions, or outward to our traditions. The resurrection points up to the enthroned Christ who reigns now. The only way to rise with Him is to bow before Him. “Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time.” (1 Peter 5:6).

Humility is not the end of the journey but the beginning of resurrection. It is the doorway into the Kingdom. The proud cannot enter because the doorway is too low. The humble rise because they kneel.

A Call to Yield to the Risen King

Time is growing short, and the hour demands clarity. Christ is not waiting to be rediscovered in a cradle or reburied in a tomb. He is not a seasonal figure to be lifted up for a holiday and set aside when the calendar turns. He is the risen and reigning Lord, seated at the right hand of the Father, calling His people to bow before Him in humility and truth. The path upward begins with the posture downward. The Kingdom does not rise on the strength of the proud but on the surrender of the humble.

The psalmist understood this long before the empty tomb. “My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother.” (Psalm 131:1–2). This is the posture of ascent. This is the doorway into resurrection life. This is the heart God lifts.

Let us therefore lay down our pride, our self‑importance, our insistence on carrying Christ on our shoulders while refusing to let Him carry us. Let us bow low before the One who descended in humility and rose in glory. Let us yield our will to the King who reigns, so that in due time He may lift us up. What comes down must go up, because the One who calls us to kneel is the same One who raises His people to stand with Him in the heavenly places.

While You Are On the Way

The Window That Closed

War never erupts in a vacuum. It grows in the soil of pride. It grows in the silence after warnings. It grows in the stubbornness that refuses to bend even when the ground begins to shake. The headlines coming out of Iran this week are not merely the record of a conflict. They are the final chapters of a story that began long before the first missile left the ground. They show the outcomes of a spiritual law Jesus expressed with unnerving simplicity. “Agree with your adversary quickly, while you are on the way with him…” (Matthew 5:25).

That phrase, while you are on the way, is the hinge on which this entire moment turns. Jesus was not giving diplomatic advice. He was revealing the way judgment works. There is always a window, a narrow and merciful one, where peace is still possible. A moment where humility can still soften what pride has hardened. A moment where the matter can still be settled before it reaches the judge, the officer, and the prison. Once that window closes, the process takes on a life of its own, and the consequences become the teacher.

The Headlines as Parable

For weeks, diplomats moved back and forth across the region, trying to pull the situation back from the edge. Warnings were issued. Opportunities for de-escalation were offered. Even Iran’s own foreign minister admitted that a deal was close. But instead of humility, there was defiance. Instead of softening, there was boasting. Instead of seeking peace, there was the familiar posture of ideological rigidity—the kind that has toppled empires and buried kings.

And then the dam broke.

Israel and the United States launched coordinated strikes across Iran, hitting missile sites, air-defense systems, and IRGC command centers. Explosions lit the night sky over Tehran. Iran responded with ballistic missiles aimed at Israel and U.S. bases across the Middle East. Air raid sirens wailed in Jerusalem. Airports across the Gulf shut down. Thousands of flights were canceled.

The wages of sin are always paid in human lives, and the innocent often pay the highest price. “For the wages of sin is death…” (Romans 6:23).

This is what it looks like when a nation refuses to make peace on the way. The matter is handed over to the judge. The judge hands it to the officer. And the officer carries out the sentence. Jesus’ imagery is not poetic; it is prophetic. It is what we are watching unfold in real time.

Persia’s Prophetic Trajectory

There is another layer here—one the headlines cannot see but Scripture has already spoken. Persia, the ancient name for modern Iran, is not a footnote in biblical prophecy. It is a named participant in the alignments described in Ezekiel 38–39. The nation is drawn into a conflict it cannot control. Its pride becomes the very snare that tightens around its feet. The current moment does not fulfill that prophecy, but it moves along the same trajectory. It reveals the same spiritual posture. It exposes the same refusal to bow when God extends the offer of peace. “Let them make peace with Me… yes, let them make peace with Me.” (Isaiah 27:5).

There are three sides to every argument: yours, mine, and God’s—and His is the only one that matters. Nations tell their stories. Leaders craft their narratives. Commentators choose their angles. But heaven is not confused. God is not taking sides in geopolitical disputes; He is opposing pride wherever it rises. He is resisting arrogance wherever it speaks. He is judging violence wherever it is embraced as policy or identity. He is calling His people to see through His eyes. They should not look through the lenses handed to them by governments, media outlets, or tribal loyalties.

The Consequence of Rejecting Peace

A Watchman does not predict outcomes. A Watchman names patterns. The pattern here is painfully clear. The window for peace was open. Pride closed it. Now the shaking has begun. The question is not which nation is right. The question is what God is saying in the shaking—and whether His people will hear it.

What we are witnessing is not simply a war. It is the consequence of rejecting the Prince of Peace. It is the harvest of choices made long before the first strike. It is the arrival at a destination. Each mile was chosen. Decisions were made one by one. Acts of defiance accumulated, all while the world was still on the way.

Closing Prayer

Father, teach us to walk humbly with You. Give us the wisdom to seek Your face while we are still on the way. Help us find You before the moment of reckoning arrives. Soften our hearts where pride has taken root. Lead us into repentance where we have resisted Your voice. Make us peacemakers in a world that rushes toward conflict. And keep us anchored in Your truth, Your mercy, and Your sovereignty. May we choose humility now, not after judgment has already begun. In Jesus’ name, amen.

A Lesson Inside Goodwill

A Discount You Don’t Expect — And a Grace You Don’t Earn

I stopped into Goodwill as I often do. I quickly scanned for Corning Ware. It’s a treasure hunt among the shelves. It’s already a place where everything is marked down, everything affordable, everything priced for people who need a break.

The cashier asked whether I had any additional discounts. Specifically, they asked about a senior discount. I was caught off guard. A discount on top of a discount? At Goodwill?

I laughed and declined. Not because I couldn’t use the savings, but because I know the money helps people who need the opportunity. Still, the moment stayed with me. A discount on something already discounted. A kindness on top of a kindness.

And suddenly, Scripture whispered.

“Grace Upon Grace” — Not Stacked Blessings, But Steady Mercy

John wrote that “from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” This isn’t grace like coupons or bonus points. It is grace in layers.

  • The first grace: God gives eternal life through Christ — the undeserved gift that changes everything.
  • The second grace: God continues to deal with His children patiently. He does so mercifully and with fatherly understanding. He guides them as they stumble through life.

He doesn’t throw a penalty flag every time someone missteps. He doesn’t eject His children from the game when they drift offside. He doesn’t call a foul every time they trip over their own humanity.

Scripture says:

  • He remembers that we are dust.
  • A bruised reed He will not break.
  • His mercies are new every morning.

This is grace upon grace. Not extra grace, but ongoing grace. It is the steady, patient, fatherly mercy of a God. He knows His children will stumble and still chooses to walk with them.

The Goodwill Lesson Hidden in Plain Sight

Goodwill already offers discounted prices. But then the cashier offered another discount — one that was unexpected and unrequested.

That moment became a reminder of how God deals with His people.

  • He saves — that is grace.
  • Then He continues to carry, forgive, restore, and patiently grow — that is grace upon grace.

People don’t always expect it. They don’t always think to ask for it. Sometimes they even decline it because they think they should pay their own way.

But God knows their frame. He knows their weaknesses. He knows their missteps before they make them.

And He chooses mercy anyway.

A Closing Thought

I walked out of Goodwill smiling. It was not because I saved money. It was because I was reminded of a God who gives more mercy than I realize. This happens even when I’m already living inside His grace.

Not stacked blessings. Not bonus coupons. Just a Father who refuses to give up on His children.