Tag obedience

WHAT MUST COME DOWN BEFORE GOING UP

Allen Frederick Leave a comment

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.

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”