The Confinement Journals: Finding God in the Silence
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View Table of Contents →Table of Contents: Part I: Entering the Silence In the Margins Falling Into His Grip Purify My Heart Meditation #1 Part II: Learning to Be Still Be Still When Jesus Wept A Meditation in Suffering Mustard Seed Faith Part III: The Seeking Seek His Face What Are You Feeding? A Psalm From Confinement A Holy Moment Part IV: The Awakening Not So Small After All Building a Throne Faith to Faith Be Transformed Part V: The Grip After God's Heart From It or Through It Here With Me Never Told Why
Part I - Entering the Silence
The first entries are written from the underside of collapse. Silence was not chosen here—it was imposed. But in the silence, something unexpected began to happen.
In the Margins
What is your favorite place in the Bible?
Is it a verse? A passage? A chapter? A book? Or maybe an entire section of Scripture?
Some are naturally drawn to John 3:16. I love that verse.
Others are drawn to the nativity, or the resurrection of Christ.
For some, it's the letters; for others, the Gospels.
Maybe it's the creation account—or the consummation in Revelation.
Then there's the history, the law, the poetry, and the prophets.
I've grown to love all of these. I could make an argument for why each might be my favorite.
Yet none of them are.
A Season Saturated in Scripture
For most of 2023 and 2024, God placed me in a season with an abundance of time. Out of boredom at first, I began reading—10 to 14 hours a day.
I've always loved reading, but never like this. I assembled a sizable collection of Christian books and read dozens—many of them multiple times. Yet none of them held me the way Scripture did.
My absolute go-to book was the Bible.
From early morning until bedtime, I was drawn to God's Word. I spent the vast majority of my days there.
I've been a student of Scripture for 45 years. This wasn't new territory. But during this season, I read the Bible straight through—Genesis to Revelation.
It began innocently enough. My first Bible arrived—a Gideons Bible. Naturally, I went to Genesis. I've spent more time there over the last 30 years than anywhere else. But this time, when I reached the end of Genesis, I just kept going.
Exodus.
Leviticus.
Numbers.
Deuteronomy.
The histories.
The prophets.
The Gospels.
The letters.
Until I finished Revelation.
I was pleased with myself. I'd read the Bible cover to cover in less than a month.
Then a problem emerged.
I still had time.
So I went back to Genesis.
Reading the Word Aloud
Before I reached Exodus, I made a new friend—legally blind, hungry for God, and unfamiliar with Scripture. He had attended church a few times, but had never read the Bible.
So I started again at the beginning—this time reading out loud.
For nearly 14 hours a day, I read Genesis, then Exodus, then on. I paused to answer questions. To explain. To marvel together.
We made it to Ruth before it was time for him to move on.
I was heartbroken to see him leave.
During that time, he came to faith in Christ. We prayed together every night. We talked endlessly about God, Scripture, and life.
I learned firsthand the power of hearing God's Word spoken.
What a gift those days were.
Fourteen Times Through the Bible
After he left, I kept going.
Ruth to Revelation.
Then back to Genesis again.
By the end of 22 months, I had read the Bible cover to cover 14 times.
I now own multiple Bibles I've read all the way through:
- NIV
- NASB
- NLT
- RSV
- NKJV
Several are study Bibles. I loved the notes, charts, maps, and articles. But more than anything, I loved how it all fits together.
God taught me.
Corrected me.
Stretched me.
Changed me.
And with every reading, He got bigger.
Seeing the Story as One
One of the greatest gifts of staying saturated in Scripture was seeing how the whole story unfolds.
How Genesis illuminates Paul's letters.
How the prophets only make sense in light of Israel's history.
How nothing stands alone.
No moment—and no person—appears by accident.
Take Levi, the tax collector.
"After these things, He went out and saw a tax collector named Levi sitting in the tax office. And He said to him, 'Follow Me.' So he left all, rose up, and followed Him." —Luke 5:27–28
Levi wasn't scenery.
He had parents.
A past.
Friends.
Enemies.
Experiences—some beautiful, some painful.
Every one of those moments conspired to place him at that desk, on that day, when Jesus walked by.
God orchestrated it all.
The same is true of Abraham. Moses. David. Isaiah. John. Zacchaeus (Just imagine the lengths God went through to protect that sycamore tree.).
God knows.
God plans.
And His plan was complete before anything began.
My Favorite Place in the Bible
Now, take your Bible.
Open it to Genesis 1:1.
Look just to the left of that first word.
That margin.
That is my favorite place in the Bible.
Before creation.
Before light.
Before words.
God knew.
Everything from Genesis 1:1 to Revelation 22:21—and beyond—was already fully known.
"Your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be." —Psalm 139:16
"The Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world." —Revelation 13:8
"For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world." —Ephesians 1:4
"He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake." —1 Peter 1:20
In that tiny margin before Genesis 1:1, all of history—past, present, and future—already existed in the mind of God.
And then He began to paint.
Living in the Knowing of God
I often return to that margin.
I lie in bed at night and meditate on that instant before the beginning. And in that instant—He was already here. With me. With you. With this very moment.
This moment has never been outside His knowing or His care.
We are not puppets. We make real choices.
But every moment of our lives has always been known by Him—and now belongs to Him.
The God who stands before the beginning also stands with us here.
"I AM Who I AM." —Exodus 3:14
Falling Into His Grip
"The steps of a man are established by the LORD,
And He delights in his way.
When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong,
Because the LORD is the One who holds his hand." —Psalms 37:23-24
My reflection on this passage while in confinement:
4/7/2024
"God does not only pave the path. He guides each and every step to keep me moving in the right direction.
God takes pleasure in every detail about my life.
God sees every detail of my life in the light of eternity.
What may seem like a failed exam to me is only a misused punctuation to Him.
While this season may seem like a total failure to me, in God's eyes I merely stubbed my toe.
I may feel as though I am lying on my back looking up at the rest of the world, when in reality, God is supporting me as I regain my confidence in His plan and goodness.
God has got this.
We still have eternity before us."
My thoughts today:
2/25/2026
God led me into jail. At the time, it did not feel like grace. But the reality is: God lovingly tore me out of a life that I had refused to walk away from. In leading me to jail, He was setting me free.
If you are in a place that feels like confinement — whether physical, emotional, or spiritual — it may not be evidence of His absence. It may be evidence of His intervention.
It was while incarcerated that I began to experience the truth of His delight in my ways. As I immersed myself in His Word, I began to see the world through different eyes. His eyes. And slowly, He showed me how He sees me. Not as I appear in the mirror, but how I fit in eternity. I am His child. His creation. And He loves me. Far more completely than I love my children.
When I fell, I was injured, but I wasn't destroyed. Instead, God used the occasion of my fall to give me new life. A different kind of life. A forward-looking, optimistic, faith-led life.
And you are not destroyed either. The fall may feel final in the moment. This is where Psalm 37 becomes personal. The fall is not fatal when Jesus is holding your hand.
God did not abandon me when it seemed to me that all was lost.
Instead, He held me close and allowed me to finally experience true freedom — from behind bars.
God's leading is not as a guide walking ahead of me. It's not even as a friend walking beside me. But as a loving Father, gently holding my hand. Both for guidance and for comfort.
Maybe you have been looking for God far out ahead of you — waiting for a sign in the distance. But what if He is closer than that? What if He has never let go of your hand?
And together, we will make it home.
If you are lying on your back today — ashamed, confused, or afraid — look up. You may discover that you have not been hurled headlong after all. You may find that the hand still holding yours is the same hand that created you, and calls you His child.
Purify My Heart
A Prayer
O God,
purify my heart, for I long to see more of You.
I've seen Your hand.
I've experienced a taste of Your love.
I've been given a glimpse of Your glory.
But I want to see more of You.
Purify my heart.
Cleanse me.
Reveal my sin.
Burn away my chaff.
I desire a deep cleansing.
Create in me a clean heart—
a new heart,
so that all that is left standing in me
is You.
I don't want to remember my sin.
I don't want to long for sinful things.
I seek You.
I seek Your will—Your perfect will.
Fix my mind in innocence.
My imagination in purity.
Lead me in truth.
Steady me with Your hand.
You are all I need.
You are all I want.
O God,
purify my heart,
for I long to see more of You.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God." —Matthew 5:8
Meditation #1
I've run from You
from Your call to live
I've embraced the trap of sin.
I sought rest from torment
from grief and pain
but no rest was found within.
I trusted my strength
my will and resolve
to carry me to the end
But I was weak
lost in the dark
always deeper drawn in
Thought I'd found bottom
the end of my struggle
the path to end my strife
I lied to myself
I failed to embrace
the One to restore my life
He never gave up
continued to call
for me to surrender my heart
Now new life I've found
in the palm of His hand
in His love I've found a new start
Part II - Learning to Be Still
There is a difference between being quiet and being still. Quiet can be forced. Still must be discovered. These pieces trace the slow, sometimes painful discovery that the striving we bring to God is often the very thing standing between us and Him.
Be Still
Come, behold the works of the LORD,
Who has wrought desolations in the earth.
He makes wars to cease to the end of the earth;
He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;
He burns the chariots with fire.
'Cease striving and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.'
—Psalm 46:8-10 (NIV)
'Cease striving and know that I am God;
We rarely admit how hard we try to fix ourselves. We may not say it aloud, but our calendars, prayers, and thoughts betray us—we believe sanctification is a performance. If you are tired of trying to become someone better for God, this reflection is for you.
We think if we work hard enough, pray long enough, read deeply enough, God will surely be pleased. And maybe then we'll change.
We often live as though sanctification—the process of becoming more like Jesus—is ours to manufacture. We read the latest book, binge hours of sermons, and pour ourselves into avoiding sin, all in an effort to become "holy enough," as if the phrase God helps those who help themselves were gospel truth.
But Scripture tells a different story.
God helps those who cannot help themselves.
In the margins—the divine detours—we find a better way. In these places, our strength finally gives out. We run out of verses to quote and pep talks to rehearse. And it's there, in the silence, that we hear something ancient:
"When we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly… While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." —Romans 5:6–8
God didn't wait for us to clean up. He moved toward us while we were helpless. There is something about our surrender that draws Him near.
"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast." —Ephesians 2:8–9
God knows our pride. If holiness could be earned, we would take the credit. But He is the One who transforms—and He waits until we stop striving.
It is foolish to believe that lasting change originates with us. God is the Creator and Sustainer of the universe and all it contains. He alone has the wisdom and power to make the changes that truly matter. Even our confidence that we know what needs changing is often rooted in pride.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." —2 Corinthians 12:9
It is in our weakness that God's power flows. Surrender is not quitting—it is the doorway to divine strength.
Those who try to help themselves chase change and find disappointment. But those who are still and know—they find God.
God does not wait for us to help ourselves. He meets us at the edge of our striving and whispers grace into our exhaustion. The margins are where effort ends and surrender begins—not because we've given up, but because we've finally let go.
In those still places, the miracle begins. Not a performance. Not a reward. A resurrection.
We are invited to work in response to grace—but never to forget that the outcome belongs to Him. We must be about the work God has placed before us, while trusting Him completely with the results.
He does not need our help.
He desires our trust.
Reflection
Where are you striving in your own strength today? What sin, fear, or burden have you been trying to fix on your own?
Take a moment to be still. Picture yourself laying down the tools of self-effort at His feet—the worry, the planning, the shame, the frantic work. Exhale your weakness. Inhale His strength.
Prayer
Lord, forgive me for trusting in my own strength.
I confess that I am weak and powerless to change myself.
Today, I cease my striving.
I choose to be still and know that You are God.
Thank You that Your power is made perfect in my weakness.
Take control of my struggles, my sins, and my efforts.
Be exalted in my life today.
Amen.
When Jesus Wept
Key Scripture
"Jesus wept." —John 11:35
It's the shortest verse in the Bible—just two words. And yet, those two words carry the weight of eternity.
"Jesus wept."
Why would the Son of God—who knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead—pause to weep at a tomb?
Back to the Beginning
"God saw all that He had made, and it was very good." —Genesis 1:31
In the beginning, there was no death, no sorrow, no brokenness. Creation pulsed with harmony, beauty, and life.
But then came the fall.
Sin entered the world through disobedience, and with it came the curse:
"Cursed is the ground because of you…" —Genesis 3:17
From that moment on, everything changed. Sin infected not just human hearts, but the very fabric of creation. Death became a reality. Tears became a language. And the world began to groan under the weight of what was lost.
The Grief of God
So when Jesus stood at Lazarus' tomb and saw Mary weeping, Scripture tells us He was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled."
The Greek word used here suggests more than sadness—it implies indignation, even outrage.
Jesus wasn't sad. He was angry.
He wasn't angry at the people.
He wasn't angry at their grief.
He was angry at what sin had done.
At the pain.
At the loss.
At the distortion of what was once "very good."
Why Jesus Wept
- Jesus wept because this was not how it was supposed to be.
- He wept over the sting of death.
- He wept over the sorrow of His friends.
- He wept over a world broken by sin.
And He still weeps today.
Not because He is powerless.
Not because He is surprised.
But because He loves.
And love always grieves what wounds the beloved.
Jesus hates sin—not merely because it is rebellion, but because of what it does to us.
To His creation.
To His children.
And one day, He will wipe away every tear…
because He wept first.
Prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for being a Savior who weeps.
Thank You for feeling the weight of our sorrow and the sting of our brokenness.
Help me to hate sin—not just for what it is, but for what it does.
Give me eyes to see the world as You see it, and a heart that longs for restoration.
May I live in the hope that You are making all things new.
Amen.
A Meditation in Suffering
"Because for Your sake I have borne reproach;
dishonor has covered my face." —Psalms 69:7
O God, this isn't about me at all.
It is about You.
It has always been about You.
You alone.
How could I think that any of this was for me?
All of this is to bring You glory.
I can't see the end.
I don't know how, but You will be lifted up.
Men will turn to You.
They will know that You alone are God—
the only God who delivers men from sin.
It is You who rescues,
You who redeems,
You who lifts my soul from the grave.
It is You who has set my feet on a firm foundation.
You are God.
To You I give my life.
To You I offer my worship.
My life is in Your hands.
There is nowhere I would rather be.
Prayer
O God, I surrender not only my suffering, but my understanding.
I place my life, my pain, and my purpose fully into Your hands.
Be glorified in me, even here.
Amen.
Mustard Seed Faith
"…I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move…" —Matthew 17:20
I used to think that verse was good news—if I ever needed to move a mountain.
But then I began to notice the kind of faith so many displayed when Jesus walked among them. It wasn't flashy or loud. It was persistent, expectant, and deeply rooted:
- The woman with the issue of blood (Luke 8:43)
- The lame man at the Pool of Bethesda (John 5:1)
- The paralytic lowered through the roof (Mark 2:3)
- The groom at Cana (John 2:1)
- The grieving mother in Nain (Luke 7:11)
- The man with a withered hand (Mark 3:1)
And then—perhaps most remarkably—the miracle of multiplication in Matthew 14:15–33. Five loaves. Two fish. Twenty thousand hungry people. And twelve disciples who had no idea that today, they'd be part of the miracle.
Jesus blessed the bread, broke it, and handed a piece to the first disciple. Yet somehow, both the disciple and Jesus were holding full loaves. The miracle continued—disciple by disciple, recipient by recipient.
Not only did they see the miracle.
They took part in it.
Then, as if to seal the moment, Jesus had each disciple collect a basket overflowing with leftovers—tangible evidence of faith meeting divine abundance.
Faith in the Storm
But just hours later, fear returned.
In the boat, the disciples trembled as Jesus walked toward them on the water. Peter dared to believe—mustard seed faith—and for a moment, he walked on the waves. But doubt crept in when he focused more on the wind than the Savior.
When Peter began to sink, Jesus caught him immediately.
"... O you of little faith ..." —Matthew 14:31
It's easy to fault Peter for his doubt. But don't lose sight of what Peter did - he walked on water! With "little faith!" Jesus' words weren't a rebuke. They were a reminder:
Even little faith is powerful when pointed toward Me.
Prayer
Lord, help us not despise the days of small faith. Thank You for catching us when we sink. Remind us that mustard seed faith is more than enough in Your hands. Teach us to fix our eyes on You—through storms and through wonder—and trust that You will never let us fall.
Amen.
Part III - The Seeking
Once still, something woke up. A hunger. A direction. These entries mark the turn from passive waiting to active seeking—not for change in circumstances, but for the face of God Himself.
Seek His Face
Key Scripture
"Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain.
In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat—
for He grants sleep to those He loves."
—Psalm 127:1–2
God desires to be desired—not for what He can give, but for who He is. He longs for us to seek His face, not merely His hand.
Too often, our prayers are filled with requests for provision, protection, and promotion. And while God is a generous Father who delights in blessing His children, He never intended for His gifts to replace His presence.
When we chase after blessings, we find ourselves weary, frustrated, and spiritually dry. But when we chase after Him, everything changes.
Psalm 127 reminds us that all our striving is in vain unless the Lord is at the center. We can build, guard, hustle, and grind—but without Him, it's empty. Yet when we seek Him first, when we make Him our pursuit (Matthew 6:33), His blessings follow us—even in our sleep.
Shift the Focus
God doesn't want to be a means to an end.
He is the end.
He is the reward.
And when we seek Him—not for what He can do, but for who He is—we find rest. We find peace. We find purpose.
A Picture of Blessing
Psalm 127 goes on to describe children as arrows in the hand of a warrior—a sign of strength, legacy, and divine favor.
But this truth extends beyond children. Every blessing from God—whether it's:
- Family
- Provision
- Opportunity
- Peace
—is ultimately a byproduct of His presence.
When we dwell with Him, we walk in confidence—not because of what we have, but because of who is with us.
Facing the Gate
The psalm ends with a powerful image: standing before the judges in the gate. These were the authorities, the decision-makers, the ones who could determine your fate. But when you know you're walking with God, you don't fear the gate. You don't fear the verdict.
Because no matter what the world decides, you are held in the hand of the One who reigns above it all.
Prayer
Lord, forgive me for the times I've sought Your hand more than Your heart.
Teach me to desire You above all else.
Help me to seek Your face daily, to rest in Your presence,
and to trust that every good thing flows from You.
I want to dwell with You—not just visit.
I want to know You—not just need You.
Be my pursuit, my portion, and my peace.
Amen.
What Are You Feeding?
Key Scripture
"How can a young man keep his way pure?
By guarding it according to your word.
I have stored up your word in my heart,
that I might not sin against you."
—Psalm 119:9, 11
We ask big questions.
What is God's will for my life?
Who should I marry?
What is my calling?
What is God saying about this crisis, this relationship, this ache I carry?
And yet, with all our longing for answers, we often neglect the clearest voice we've been given—the Word of God. We search elsewhere.
A song that moved us.
A sermon that stirred something.
A conversation that resonated.
These may carry echoes of truth. Glimpses of God's heart. But if King Jesus is who we most want to hear from, why do we so rarely sit with His words?
Ask yourself honestly:
Do I believe the Bible is God-breathed? Alive? Sharp?
Not merely inspirational—but formative?
Here is a gentle but revealing question—not as a rule, but as a mirror:
Can you quote one Scripture from memory for every year you've walked with Jesus?
We celebrate the Bible culturally.
We defend it publicly.
We keep it nearby.
And still, we often leave it unopened.
This is not condemnation.
You are not being punished.
You are not less loved.
By the finished work of Jesus, you are already as righteous as you will ever need to be.
But something is misaligned if nothing feels off about neglecting God's Word—because Scripture is not about earning holiness; it is about shaping desire.
We are students by nature.
We study headlines.
Sports statistics.
Music lyrics.
Market trends.
The deeper question is not whether we are being formed—but by what.
What do you consistently feed your mind?
What do you allow to shape your reflexes, your imagination, your instincts?
Psalm 119 invites us to re-orient our appetite—to remember that the Word of God is not a side dish. It is daily bread.
Open it.
Eat it.
Sit with it.
Let it dwell richly.
You do not need credentials.
You do not need perfect understanding.
You only need a willing heart—and the courage to keep showing up hungry.
Prayer
Lord, awaken my hunger for Your Word. Forgive me for the ways I've searched for clarity everywhere except the place You've spoken most clearly. Shape my desires, train my appetite, and teach me to live on every word that comes from You.
Amen.
A Psalm From Confinement
Conceived in trouble
Brought forth in pain
Delivered in hope
Reared in faith
Consumed by despair
No comfort found
Life seemed hopeless
But You were there all the time
Where could I turn?
But You were there all the time
How many times, O Lord?
How many times have You shown me
And I closed my eyes
How many times have You called
But I stopped my ears
You've surrounded me; You've hemmed me in
But I shook You off; I chased my sin
I groped in darkness unable to win
You offered grace again and again
Prayer was lifted
The answer was, "Yes"
Come alive in me
A Holy Moment
"The heavens declare the glory of God…
They have no speech, they use no words;
their voice is not heard." —Psalm 19:1–3
A Morning Encounter
This morning, as I contemplated Psalm 19—a passage that speaks of creation's silent, ceaseless worship—I found my gaze drifting to the small slice of sky visible only if I pressed my face against the left edge of the window in my cell door and looked toward the visible world at the far end of the day room.
Beyond the fence line stood a cluster of trees, their branches reaching skyward. A gentle breeze stirred, and in an instant, thousands of limbs—laden with hundreds of thousands of leaves—began to sway back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm.
I paused, contemplating God's incredible handiwork. How remarkable that He designed these limbs to be strong enough to withstand the fury of a storm, yet flexible enough to dance with the slightest breeze. Too rigid, and they would snap. Too weak, and they would fall. This balance of strength and grace bears the unmistakable fingerprint of divine wisdom.
Then something shifted.
The limbs continued their rhythmic movement, but suddenly I saw them differently. The movement seemed more like a dance. It was as though they were waving directly at me—thousands of branches, moving in unison, acknowledging my presence. As if to say, "We know you're still there. We're still here too. We just wanted to say good morning."
In that moment, I was undone.
Tears of gratitude welled up and spilled over. The God who formed galaxies and governed storms had orchestrated this quiet encounter. And there, in the stillness, I felt profoundly loved.
So I stood there for several minutes, tears streaming down my face, simply waving back at the trees. It was a holy moment—a silent conversation between a beloved child and the Father, witnessed by the creation He made.
Without words, the message came through clearly:
You are seen. You are loved.
The Unspeakable Voice
As I reflected on that moment, I was reminded of the Apostle John's struggle to describe the voice of God in Revelation. Reaching for human language, he offered comparison after comparison:
- "…a loud voice like a trumpet" —Revelation 1:10
- "…his voice was like the sound of rushing waters" —Revelation 1:15
- "From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder" —Revelation 4:5
- "…like harpists playing their harps" —Revelation 14:2
One might be tempted to ask, "Which is it, John—trumpets, thunder, rushing water, or harps?"
And I imagine his gentle reply would be, "Yes. Exactly."
God's voice cannot be contained by a single metaphor. Sometimes it crashes like thunder. Sometimes it roars like oceans. And sometimes—it whispers through leaves waving in the breeze.
Yet the message is always the same.
You are loved.
Part IV - The Awakening
Seeking gives way to finding. Not all at once—never all at once—but in glimpses. These pages document the awakening: the growing awareness of a God who is vast, near, and entirely capable of being worshipped from inside a cell.
Not So Small After All
"When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;
What is man that You take thought of him,
And the son of man that You care for him?" —Psalm 8:3-4
6/8/2024 (Written in confinement)
You didn't just scatter the stars as a farmer scatters seed. You put each star in its place and called it by name. Not only that, but all the physical laws and forces that currently operate were already fully functioning. You had already worked out nuclear fusion and fission, magnetic forces, orbits, rotations, chemical reactions, mathematical formulas, neurons, electrons, quarks, black holes, emotions, communication, love, choice, life, and death.
Nothing was accidental. Everything was created or made with purpose. Everything that exists has a reason for existing.
While You alone are the undisputed star of this magnificent show, man is the object of Your affections. You created man and gave him abilities beyond any other creature. To man You gave the desire and ability to worship. You reach out to man and call him to Yourself. You reveal that all creation draws and directs man to You. You have given man every reason to rely on, look to, trust in, love, and worship You.
You speak to man. You call him by a name that only You know. When we submit to You, You change us. You transform us from a purely material-minded being into a spiritual being who can live in communion with You. You make us look much more like You. You become our very reason to live. And when we die, we are with You for all eternity.
Hallelujah!
"They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness." —Lamentations 3:23
Building a Throne
"Yet You are holy,
O You who are enthroned upon the praises of Israel." —Psalms 22:3
6/22/2024 (Written in confinement)
Giving thanks:
Involves listing the gifts we have been given and acknowledging that God is the Giver.
Praise:
Involves seeing deeper into that transaction and acknowledging that God is still in the gifts. They are connected to Him. The gift is God Himself.
Worship:
Moves beyond any gift and focuses on the person of God — seeing ourselves in comparison to Him, yet somehow invited into relationship with Him.
(In jail, I had few gifts left to list. But I could still worship.
And that is where I discovered that worship does not depend on abundance.
It depends on who God is.)
Faith to Faith
Romans 1:17
"For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith …" —Romans 1:17
This righteousness is not achieved—it is credited.
It is the righteousness that God places into our account by faith.
There is nothing I can do to earn this righteousness.
It is given freely, received by faith alone.
It begins with faith,
produces faith,
and ends with faith.
And it requires nothing more than faith the size of a mustard seed.
Faith is all we bring to the table at salvation—justification.
Faith is also the goal of our lives after salvation—sanctification.
By faith, our lives are gradually transformed into the image of Christ Jesus, as we apply what He has revealed through His Word.
And even this faith is not self-generated.
Faith itself is a gift—given by the Holy Spirit.
Be Transformed
"Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…" —Romans 12:1–2
In light of the gracious justification Christ has accomplished for us, the only reasonable conclusion is that we should present ourselves wholly to God—as walking, breathing, living sacrifices.
Paul begins with a warning: Do not be conformed.
The word conformed carries the idea of being with the structures, patterns, and philosophies of this world—sharing its assumptions, values, and logic. This is not a call to superficial nonconformity. Even the Pharisees were nonconformists in appearance. Paul is speaking about something deeper: resisting the world's way of thinking.
Then comes the command: Be transformed.
To be transformed is to move across and beyond the forms of this world—to rise above them. This is a call to transcendent excellence, not cultural withdrawal. The Christian life is not merely different; it is elevated.
That transformation happens through the renewing of the mind.
This is nothing more—and nothing less—than serious, in-depth formation. A growing mastery of the Word of God. Lives change when minds change. We are called to have the mind of Christ.
Justified and Being Transformed
Justification means that we are declared righteous before God even while we are still sinners. We place our trust in Christ alone—and God places Christ's righteousness into our account. That is the gospel.
Not only does Jesus take our sins, debts, and demerits, but He also gives us His obedience, assets, and merits.
Imagine it this way: each of us wears a sign around our neck displaying everything we've ever done or failed to do—every word, every thought, every motive. As Jesus hung on the cross, He gathered the signs of all people—past, present, and future—and placed them on Himself. He bore our sin fully. That is when He cried out,
"My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" —Matthew 27:46
At the same time, He took the sign that bore His perfect obedience and placed it on us.
"He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him." —2 Corinthians 5:21
The Evidence of True Faith
True faith always produces real conformity to Christ.
If there is no sanctification—no growing likeness to Jesus—then there was never justification to begin with.
Justification is instant.
Sanctification begins instantly.
Jesus said,
"Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness…" —Matthew 6:33
Righteousness is the goal. And righteous people are known by their fruit:
"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." —Galatians 5:22–23
The Cost of Worship
True worship requires death—death to self.
Dying to Christ will likely be painful.
It means abandoning my own wants, dreams, and ambitions in order to pursue His will.
It means refusing alignment with the futile thinking of the world.
It means submitting to the mind-renewing work of the Holy Spirit.
Only then can our thinking be transformed.
Only then can we discern and embrace God's good, pleasing, and perfect will—for our lives and for the world.
Reflection
In what ways have I allowed my thinking to be shaped more by the world than by the Word?
Transformation does not begin with changed behavior, but with a renewed mind. What voices most influence my assumptions, my fears, my ambitions, and my definition of success?
True worship costs more than attendance or agreement. It requires surrender—daily, ongoing, and sometimes painful. Yet it is in that surrender that freedom is found.
Am I willing to be transformed, or do I merely want to be affirmed?
Prayer
Father,
By Your mercy, I offer myself to You.
I confess that I am often tempted to conform—to think like the world, to reason like the world, to protect myself the way the world does.
Renew my mind. Expose what is false. Replace it with truth.
Form in me the mind of Christ.
Teach me to love what You love and desire what You desire.
I yield my will, my ambitions, and my ways to You.
Transform me—not for my glory, but for Yours.
Amen.
Part V - The Grip
The final section is not triumph. It is trust without clarity. These closing entries face what cannot be explained—the suffering that continues, the why that never arrives—and discover that proximity to God is more than an answer. It is everything.
After God's Heart
"After He had removed him, He raised up David to be their king, concerning whom He also testified and said, 'I HAVE FOUND DAVID the son of Jesse, A MAN AFTER MY HEART, who will do all My will.'" —Acts 13:22
"Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." —1 Samuel 16:7
The Paradox of David
"All My will?"
David's record does not immediately affirm that claim.
He was passive with Joab (2 Samuel 3:27), reckless with the Ark (2 Samuel 6:1–7), and grievously sinful in his encounter with Bathsheba—marked by complacency, lust, deception, and murder (2 Samuel 11).
He ignored Amnon's sin, distanced himself from Absalom, tolerated idol worship (1 Samuel 19:13), and defied God by ordering a census (2 Samuel 24).
How can a man with such a fractured history be held up by God Himself as one who would "do all My will"?
Divine Perspective
And yet… God said it.
Because God does not judge as man judges.
God's declaration about David was not denial of sin, nor indulgence of failure. It was a divine, eternal assessment of the heart beneath the behavior. God saw not only David's falls, but the direction of his life—his reflex to return, repent, and realign himself with God's heart.
Throughout the books of First and Second Kings, David becomes the standard—not because he was flawless, but because his heart consistently turned back toward the Lord.
When David sinned, he did not justify, conceal, or harden himself.
He broke.
He confessed.
He returned.
Psalm 51 is not the prayer of a man defending himself, but of one undone by grace. And God restored him.
Grace in Weakness
This pattern is not unique to David.
- Paul's thorn was not punishment—it was grace (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).
- Job's suffering was not evidence of guilt—it was a divine testimony of integrity (Job 1–2).
- David's restoration was not earned—it was received.
God has always worked this way.
"You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb." —Psalm 139:13
God knows us completely. He is not surprised by our weaknesses. He is not confused by our limitations. Even those things we perceive as flaws exist within the scope of His sovereign design.
Playing the Hand We're Dealt
It is as if God has dealt each of us a hand—strengths, weaknesses, wounds, tendencies.
He knows every card.
So when we come to Him frustrated over repeated failure, He does not rage against us. His anger is directed at what sin does to us—not at us as His children.
His grace does not deny responsibility, but it refuses shame as the final word.
David played his hand imperfectly—but faithfully.
Not because he never fell, but because he always returned.
To be "after God's heart" is not to live without sin.
It is to live without hiding.
Prayer
Merciful Father, thank You that You look beyond outward appearances and see the heart.
Thank You that You know me completely, including my weaknesses, and that Your grace is sufficient for all of it.
Forgive me for the times I despair over my failures or try to hide them from You.
Shape in me a heart that quickly repents, consistently returns, and rests fully in Your mercy.
Amen.
From It or Through It
"…our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire; and He will deliver us out of your hand, O king.
But even if He does not, let it be known to you, O king, that we are not going to serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up."
—Daniel 3:17–18
Imagine the scene: three teenagers—Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—standing before King Nebuchadnezzar, the most powerful man in the known world. Their crime was refusing to bow before his golden statue. Facing certain, agonizing death in a superheated furnace, their response was not a plea for mercy, but a declaration of faith.
Their surrender was not to the flame, but to the sovereignty of God.
"Our God is able to deliver us," they proclaimed. But then came the defining words: "But even if He does not…"
This was not a lack of faith; it was the purest expression of it. They trusted God completely—without demanding a specific outcome. In essence, they were saying, "God will save us—either from the fire, or through the fire."
Enraged, the king ordered the furnace heated seven times hotter and had them thrown in. But they were not alone.
Daniel records a fourth man walking with them—one "like a son of the gods." Many see in this a divine presence, possibly even a pre-incarnate appearance of Christ. However we understand it, the message is unmistakable: God entered the fire with them.
When they emerged, the evidence was undeniable:
"…the fire had no effect on the bodies of these men nor was the hair of their head singed, nor were their trousers damaged, nor had the smell of fire even come upon them." —Daniel 3:27
Yet something was burned away—the ropes that bound them.
The fire meant to destroy them became the means of their freedom. What the enemy intended for harm, God used for release. They came out untouched, unscorched, and unbound.
God has not changed.
He still uses suffering not to consume us, but to refine us. And notice this: Jesus did not wait outside the fire for them to emerge. He walked in it with them. He is found in the deepest waters, the darkest valleys, and the fiercest trials of our lives.
Scripture echoes this truth:
"If any man's work is burned up, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire." —1 Corinthians 3:15
"Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tested you in the furnace of affliction." —Isaiah 48:10
If you are in the fire today—pressed by grief, fear, loss, or uncertainty—hear these promises:
"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." —Psalm 34:18
"And now, Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in You." —Psalm 39:7
We can face any trial with confidence—not because we control the outcome, but because we know the Companion. God may deliver us from the fire, or He may walk with us through it. Either way, He is faithful. The fire refines, releases, and frees—consuming only what binds us.
Prayer
Lord, teach us to trust You not only in deliverance, but also in delay.
When the flames rise and the path grows dark, remind us that You are not absent—you are near.
Your presence is our greatest promise.
Amen.
Here With Me
Millions of people calling Your Name
every face You see
Oh, my God, how can it be
that You would be here with me
The sun, the moon, stars in the sky
each set in place by Thee
their light and course maintained by You
and yet, You're here with me
How can I know
or can it be known
the how's and why's of Your plan
The sun, the moon, stars in the sky
and yet, You're here with me
Never Told Why
Reflections on the book of Job
Trust is a concept that I thought I understood.
But I didn't learn about real trust until I believed that I had lost everything, and all I had left was God — if He was still there…
My first few hours in jail were a defining moment for me. It felt like I had nothing. No control. No reputation. No future I could see.
So I reached for the only thing that seemed real.
God.
I held on for dear life.
And ever since then, He has never let go.
There is really no way to learn to trust God until you are drowning.
As long as you can still touch the bottom, as long as your feet can still find footing, you are not trusting — you are balancing. You are managing. You are calculating.
Trust begins when control ends.
Job understood this, though he never understood why.
We are given the first two chapters of his story. We are told about the conversation in heaven. We see the challenge, the permission, the boundaries set by God Himself.
Job never hears any of it.
He never learns that his suffering was not punishment.
He never learns that heaven was watching.
He never learns that his name had been spoken in the throne room of God.
He lives the entire ordeal without the explanation we are given.
And yet he keeps speaking — not perfectly, not politely, not without frustration — but he keeps speaking to God.
That is trust.
We often assume that trust means silence. That faith means calm acceptance. But Job complained. He questioned. He poured out confusion and grief.
He just never walked away.
He complained toward heaven.
There is something deeply comforting in knowing that we are never told why either.
We imagine that if we only understood the hidden mechanics — the spiritual battle, the long-term purpose, the future fruit — we could endure more easily.
But God does not grant us a backstage pass.
He asks us to stay in the story without seeing the script.
And somehow, that is enough.
We cannot ruin our lives beyond God's ability to redeem them.
We can sin. We can wander. We can wreck our own plans. But we cannot outmaneuver His sovereignty. We cannot sabotage His ultimate purpose.
All of the evil inside of me or surrounding me cannot separate me from the love of God.
He is not reacting to my life. He is weaving it.
As Creator and Sustainer, He does not waste material. Even my greatest failures become thread in His hands.
He sends what I need. If He does not send it, I do not need it.
That statement used to offend me. Now it steadies me.
We are like children trying to audit the calculations of a physicist. A seven-year-old does not question advanced mathematics because he lacks the framework to even understand the problem.
Yet we confidently evaluate how God is running the universe.
Does that make sense?
Trust does not require understanding. It requires proximity.
Job never stopped praying.
He never received the explanation we received.
But he encountered God.
And in the end, that was more than an answer.
God has still never let go.
My life is still a struggle.
I still can't see the future.
But through it all, I can still have confidence that there is purpose beyond what I can see.
And He is still with me.