Easter Sunday - Holy Week 2026

This devotion is written by J.D. Walt and is entitled, “An Easter Postscript - One Last Question.” J.D. Walt is the Executive Director of seedbed.com.

Matthew 16:15 NIV

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

CONSIDER THIS . . .

So how are you responding to the question of all questions?

But what about you? . . . Who do you say that I am?

Let’s not make the mistake of just copying down Peter’s answer and turning it into the right answer—as though Jesus were just looking for the correct answer.

“You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16).

The truth is Peter gave Jesus something way beyond a right answer to an important question. Peter offered Jesus a response to divine revelation. Peter did not react to a teacher with a Sunday school answer. He responded to God by leaning in with his life.

Remember my confirmation class from the early days of this Lenten journey? I told them the story of a wire walker who stretched a wire across a treacherous canyon. In front of a stunned audience, he walked across the wire and back. He asked the audience if they thought he could do it again. They cheered loudly with affirmation.

Then he reached for a wheelbarrow and put it on the wire. He asked the cheering audience, “Who will get in the wheelbarrow?” 

Faith is not believing the right things about Jesus. Faith is believing Jesus.

If Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, the Bread of Life and the Light of the World, the Good Shepherd, the way and the truth and the life, very God of very God—and if what is on offer here is to be transformed, to be remade in the image of God, into his likeness—we must respond with our whole lives.

Faith is not the right answer. It is the right response.

When Peter said, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” he was, in essence, responding with the response Jesus had been waiting for: all in.

We asked that question of all questions every single week in our yearlong confirmation class.

It’s why I’m asking you, for Jesus, again today.

But what about you? . . . Who do you say that I am?

Don’t give the right answer. Respond to the revelation. I’ll never forget how one day, months into our confirmation class, I asked the question of questions, and one of our students, Ava Grace, offered this mind-blowing response to the revelation:

“Where’s the wheelbarrow?”

Okay, now it’s your turn!

PRAY

Our Father, thank you for your Son, Jesus. Lord Jesus, you are our Lord and our God. Where is the wheelbarrow? We’re going all in with you. We are growing. We really want to change. And our desire for you is at an all-time high. Come, Holy Spirit. “Lead on, O King Eternal. The day of march is come.”1 Praying in your name, amen.

Resources:

Palm Sunday - Holy Week 2026

This devotion is written by Keith Turner, and is entitled, “The Desperate Cry of Hosanna.” Keith Turner is a contributing author at Seedbed.com. We hope you will be encouraged.

Days like Palm Sunday are particularly difficult for the preacher. It’s not because there is nothing to say. It is because there is nothing to say you don’t already know. You heard the Gospel reading. Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem is about as straightforward as a reading can get. It needs no special interpretation. The last thing you need me to do is to stand up and wax eloquent for 12 to 15 minutes (and not a second longer!) on the meaning of Palm Sunday. Yet, Palm Sunday is here again. The difficulty still looms over the preacher. I find myself wanting to give the congregation something that will make them say, “Huh. I never thought about that before!” But, I am reminded the task of preaching is not to reveal something new. Many times it is to remind the congregation of something true. Certainly, Palm Sunday reminds us of something true, something of which we need to be reminded at least once per year.

Sometimes, we hear an event recounted, and something different strikes us as particularly interesting. As I read the Palm Sunday narrative over and over again, the word Hosanna kept drawing me. Imagine the crowds of people thronging Main Street, Jerusalem, waving palm branches as Jesus rides in on a donkey. Hear them shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” Most of us know the word Hosanna well, don’t we? Many of us even sing it every week, “Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.”

We sing it as an act of praise. We sing it with exuberance. We sing it with celebration. But I still remember something I once heard a minister say: “One person’s act of praise may be another person’s act of desperation.” What may come easy for one person may be very difficult for another. Even though we sometimes sing it joyfully, Hosanna is not the happiest of words. It is a Hebrew word meaning, “Save, now!” It is a prayer of desperation, a cry for help. Have you ever cried out a desperate Hosanna? Have you ever found it difficult to praise God? Have you ever forced yourself to come into God’s presence with thanksgiving and into his courts with praise when it was the last thing you felt like doing?

I was in that situation not long ago. I was in a worship setting, and I must confess that from where I was sitting, there was a person in clear sight, toward whom I harbor feelings of deep hatred. Growing up, I was always taught that I was not permitted to hate anyone. The person I hold bitterness toward claims to be a Christian. This person claims to serve the Lord. Nevertheless, seeing this person sitting there put me in a less-than-worshipful mood. If only the person were not there, then maybe my thoughts and my prayers would be a little more holy. But right there, the object of my scorn sat.

When we stood to sing one of my favorite hymns, I found it incredibly difficult to sing. “Join hands, disciples of the faith, whate’er your race may be. Who serves my Father as his child is surely kin to me.” These words are true, no matter how I feel or what I want. I sang the words anyway. It was not easy to praise God. I had to cry a desperate Hosanna. Lord, save now! Save me from myself! Deliver me from my feelings of bitterness, resentment, and hatred. Rescue me from what keeps my heart from joyfully praising you.

Maybe your difficulty comes from a different place. Perhaps it comes from a place of disappointment or from a wearying trial you are facing. Our suffering often drives us to God, but it still never makes it easy to praise Him. This is especially true if our disappointment is toward God. Even so, God is not threatened by our feelings of disappointment or anger. Instead, God promises to meet us in our disappointment and suffering. But, sometimes, we have to praise him in an act of faith that precedes our being able to see that truth. That is where we find God’s faithfulness to be true.

I wonder about the people who flanked the sidewalks of Main Street, Jerusalem on that day. What brought them there? Were they filled with excitement and celebration? For some, that may be the case, but I wonder how many were filled with desperation. Maybe the crowds really didn’t feel like lining along the streets to watch this one-person parade. Given the political climate, they may have even feared doing so. But, they lined the street anyway. Maybe they knew that no matter how they felt or what they wanted, Jesus comes to bring something true—something better than the nightmare in which they lived.

They may have had their reservations about flooding the neighborhood that day, but one thing is for sure: they wanted Rome out of their neighborhoods even more strongly. Overthrow the Romans if you will. Take down Caesar if you can. Many of the people were convinced Jesus came to revolutionize Israel into a new earthly kingdom. They expected the Roman kingdom to be wiped out; the Kingdom of God would be ushered in. It’s a win-win! Whatever it takes, they want the Romans out of there. They are desperate.

But, when Jesus does not meet their expectations, their desperate cries of Hosanna turn into furious cries of “Crucify him!”

Yet, in the irony that is his crucifixion, Jesus still answers their prayer: “Lord, save now!” He draws the whole world to himself. By his suffering and death, Jesus becomes the author of eternal salvation for all who put their trust in him (see Book of Common Prayer, 346). Jesus still brings about a more perfect and complete salvation and inaugurates the true Kingdom of God even when humanity sinks to its greatest evil.

I also wonder who might be flanking the streets of our lives. Who among us may be crying out to Jesus with a desperate Hosanna? Who might the Holy Spirit be nudging us to see? They could be…

The parents standing over the fresh grave of their teenage son, fallen victim in an act of gun violence
Lord, save now!

The single parent lying awake at night having worked three minimum wage jobs and still worrying over how the rent is going to be paid
Lord, save now!

The group of African-American high school students meeting at the local restaurant after football practice only to discover the waiter has put a racial slur instead of their table number atop their check
Lord, save now!

Even those who may want to destroy Christ along with everyone who follows Him
Lord, save now!

Holy Spirit still calls us, just as at our baptism: “Proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. Seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as your self. Strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.” If you are reading this, and your sweet Hosannas are ringing from a place of exuberance and celebration, then indeed, praise God for it! But, if your Hosannas come from a place of desperation, then take heart! The Lord hears your prayer and does not forget you. For all of us, no matter where we are on our faith journeys on this Palm Sunday, Jesus Christ is hearing our Hosannas and is saving us.

Amen.

Jesus Heals a Lame Man - Pastor Mark Morrison

 
 

Every so often, we will have a guest speaker at CrossView Church. We are so grateful for the gifted women and men that serve the Lord through teaching the word. This week we hear from Pastor Mark Morrison. Pastor Mark serves as the director of Shepherd Ministries. You can find out more information about Shepherd Ministries here.

Usually, when we have a guest speaker, we will not have a weekly devotion. We encourage you to watch the message again at some point throughout the week and to check out the resources listed below.

Blessings on you and your week.

Pastor Kyle

The Genealogy of Jesus - Rebecca Minelga

 
 

Every so often, we will have a guest speaker at CrossView Church. We are so grateful for the gifted women and men that serve the Lord through teaching the word. This week we hear from our very own, Rebecca Minelga. Rebecca Minelga is an author and speaker who uses the power of words to navigate the liminal spaces between who we are and who we are becoming. She raises Guide Dog Puppies and two sons–in that order–with her husband in Snohomish, WA. Her books include "To All the Saints: Paul's Letter to the Church at Philippi," "The Covenant: A Study Guide for Deuteronomy," and her latest, fiction novel, "Third and Long," with a sequel, "False Start," coming in March 2026. When not writing, she can be found open water swimming in her local lake, exploring the National Parks with her family, or traveling the world on an adventure!

Usually, when we have a guest speaker, we will not have a weekly devotion. We encourage you to watch the message again at some point throughout the week and to check out the resources listed below.

Blessings on you and your week.

Pastor Kyle

The Genealogy Of Ruth - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

TWO WOMEN AND A BABY

The miracle birth of Obed is truly the most joyful moment in the book, hailed by the women who celebrate with Naomi. This child renews Naomi’s life. Instead of the dead end she had reached, Obed creates for Naomi a brand-new opening into the future and a vital new kingdom assignment. No one reading the book of Ruth for the first time would ever anticipate such a remarkable turn of events. The women attribute Naomi’s blessings to her foreign-born daughter-in-law with superlative praise. “For your daughter-in-law, who loves you and who is better to you than seven sons, has given him birth” (Ruth 4:15, emphasis added). They name the baby Obed, then top off their praise with a punch line: “Naomi has a son!” (4:17).

When Obed is born, the past and the future are joined and all of the loose strands of the story come together. Naomi’s sufferings, Ruth’s vow, God’s mission for each woman, and their true contributions for the kingdom — all unite in one small baby boy, but not in the way you might expect.

Ruth and Naomi each experienced a major turning point long before Obed comes gasping and squalling out of the womb and into their waiting arms. Ruth turned a corner in her life when she refused to abandon Naomi and embraced Naomi’s God. Naomi’s turning point happened when Ruth unloaded a pile of raw barley at her feet and she realized with astonishment that Yahweh still loved her. These are life-changing moments that dramatically alter both women, for despite their losses and their grief, they derive fresh purpose and meaning from Yahweh’s hesed and turn outward to sacrifice for others. This is the power of the gospel in their lives.

Obed may change their schedules, daily chores, and sleeping habits. He ends the physical emptiness caused by the absence of sons in the family, for now Elimelech has an heir. But his arrival in this world cannot account for the profound changes that God works in the hearts of the two widows. Obed does not give meaning and purpose to Ruth, for she had both long before he was born. He cannot end Naomi’s sufferings, for she will always grieve the losses of her husband and sons. But along with opening up for the two women a window on the future, Obed becomes the beneficiary of all that the two women have gained from what they have suffered and sacrificed. He will carry their past with him into the future.

From the mother who gave him birth, Obed will inherit a caliber of faith in Yahweh that doesn’t easily give up, no matter how daunting the obstacles, no matter how impossible the odds. The courageous blood of a risk taker runs through his veins. With a mother like that, it shouldn’t surprise anyone to hear of Obed’s grandson standing up to a giant warrior armed only with a sling and five small stones.

Obed will also learn a lot about sacrifice from his mother. He will hear about all she has done for Naomi. Word has gotten out about the costly sacrifices Ruth made for her mother-in-law. The women of Bethlehem aren’t just spouting overused clichés when they say Ruth is “better than seven sons.” They really mean it. Naomi actually is better off with Ruth than a lot of women who gave birth to what the ancient world regarded as the perfect number of sons.

Older women counted on their sons to care for them, to protect them from exploitation and the harsh elements of society, to be their voice, to stand up for their rights, and to preserve their father’s name and estate by bringing the next generation of male descendants into the world. Ruth did all of those things for Naomi at great cost to herself and in a culture that tied her hands behind her back, denied her a voice, refused her access to the legal system, and regarded her as useless. It was all uphill for Ruth. But she did it anyway. Not even seven sons would have done as much.

Even with the birth of Obed, Ruth continues sacrificing for Naomi. Anyone would say that after everything Ruth did for Naomi, it was time for her to enjoy a little happiness herself. Marriage to Boaz and the birth of a son seem fitting rewards for such an extraordinary and selfless woman. But Ruth still isn’t thinking of herself. She has never veered from her vow.

The Heart of God - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

THE CITY GATE

In ancient times, the city gate was not only the point of entry into town and the most logical place to look for fellow villagers coming and going, it was also the heart of the community. The gate was the seat of government and the site of important business transactions, a platform for local dignitaries, a pulpit for prophetic messages, and the hub of local gossip for the entire village. So whenever you hear of someone being praised in the gates (like the legendary woman of Proverbs 31),1 the entire community from the top down is honoring them. It’s comparable to a New York City ticker tape parade for a national hero or having your name emblazoned on a star inlaid on the sidewalk at Hollywood and Vine. Praise in the gates is high honor indeed.

Boaz is heading straight for Bethlehem’s gate where he plans to assemble a quorum of city elders to deliberate and rule on legal matters and seal business transactions for the Elimelech family. This is not a closed-door session. Deliberations take place in full view of the curious public as villagers congregate to see what the commotion is all about and to witness the proceedings. Here, along with all Bethlehem, we will discover the enormity of what Boaz is giving up.

Boaz’s urgency is matched by the speed with which the relevant parties of his business come together. Almost immediately he spots Elimelech’s anonymous nearest relative (scholars nicknamed him Mr. No-Name) and calls him aside. Before you know it, Boaz has collected ten Bethlehem elders, and an ad hoc meeting of the ancient court is gaveled into session. A jury of ten men will decide Ruth’s fate. What happens next leaves modern readers scratching their heads, as legal codes and local customs entirely foreign to us play out, and Boaz with the savvy and surprise of a well-prepared district attorney makes his case.

BOAZ GOES TO BAT

Right away, Boaz catches readers off-guard by raising the subject of land, when we are expecting him to present the more pressing matter (at least from our vantage point) of who will marry Ruth. For some unknown reason, Boaz changes the first order of business from marriage to real estate. We have forgotten that Ruth already raised the subject of Elimelech’s property, for when she appealed to Boaz as the family’s kinsman-redeemer, she targeted his responsibility to buy and reactivate Elimelech’s abandoned fields.2

While we may find Boaz’s tactics confusing, he knows exactly what he’s doing. He is speaking a language these men understand, for the most tantalizing part of the bargain he is putting in front of his relative isn’t Ruth, but the piece of land once cultivated by Elimelech that now lies fallow. Under Mosaic legal code, the Promised Land belonged to Yahweh but was subdivided and parceled out permanently by tribe and family. Each man took possession of his own land. In an agrarian culture, a man’s land is the family business and the centerpiece of the inheritance he passes on to his sons. Elimelech’s land must be redeemed, and the relative who takes home the deed will probably be doubling his own estate.

When a hurricane blasts through Florida (which happens frequently), homeowners patch up holes in their own roofs and clear away fallen trees and debris from their own yards before helping out a neighbor. According to law, Mr. No-Name was first in line to assist Elimelech in recovering his land during hard times. But just like a hurricane, the unforgettable and seemingly endless Bethlehem famine hit everyone with hard times all at once. Everybody was coping with dried up fields, crop failures, and food shortages. Consumed by the needs of their own families, Mr. No-Name, Boaz, and the other men in the region were in no position to help out Elimelech or anyone else. Now that the famine is finally over and the countryside is in recovery mode, they’re in a better position to discuss land issues again.

What is also surprising about Boaz’s first order of business, however, is the fact that he describes this abandoned piece of property as Naomi’s land. When did widows start inheriting their husband’s property, scholars want to know? Mosaic Law made an exception so daughters could inherit land in families without sons, but only if they married within their father’s clan, for the whole objective of the law was to keep a man’s land within his tribe.3 If a man had neither sons nor daughters, then his land went to his brothers and, in lieu of brothers, to his nearest relative. Nowhere are widows given rights of inheritance. And it is one of the most frightening injustices in the world today, that widows are evicted from their husband’s land and left to fend for themselves and their children on the streets.

The only way a widow could hang on to her husband’s property and protect it from seizure by her husband’s relatives was if she had an heir or could produce one. On both counts, Naomi was out of luck. Already Boaz seems to be breaking the rules by granting Naomi rights to Elimelech’s land. Surprisingly, no one seems to object to this or any of the other terms Boaz adds to these arrangements.

Perhaps this is as good a place as any to remind ourselves of how the narrator originally introduced Boaz — as a man of valor and high standing in the community. We assumed this description was purely a recommendation for his suitability as a prospective husband for Ruth. But these admirable qualities also set us up for the scene at the Bethlehem gate and help us understand the substantial clout Boaz clearly possesses in these legal proceedings and why he is able to press forward with Ruth’s initiatives without the slightest protest from the other men.

It is entirely possible that Boaz isn’t the sort of man anyone would want to oppose. This imposing man has earned a place of stature in the community because of his character and his achievements, which by themselves explain the kind of influence he wields in these deliberations. Not until the conclusion of the narrative do we learn that Boaz’s stature in the community is also genetic. The genealogy that concludes the book of Ruth identifies Boaz as an Israelite blueblood — the direct descendant of Nahshon, one of Israel’s greatest leaders. During the time of Moses, Boaz’s grandfather,4 Nahshon, was the tribal chief of Judah, Israel’s largest tribe, and the commanding general of the largest division of the Israelite army. When the cloud of God’s glory lifted and the Israelites broke camp, Nahshon led the tribe of Judah out first.5 At the dedication of the tabernacle, Nahshon was the first tribal chief to offer sacrifices.6 Anyone born in this family was something of a Kennedy in the ancient culture — a member of the nation’s first family — an identity that brought with it a natural expectation of high-profile leadership in the community.

Putting all of this together, Naomi and Ruth couldn’t have found a more powerful advocate than Boaz. His advocacy for them carries enormous weight and forms a solid barrier against the inevitable exploitations widows often suffered. Boaz is a leader among leaders and wields his advantages in wise and righteous ways that promote hesed within the community. Consequently, Bethlehem elders don’t raise the slightest objection to the notion of Naomi selling land, but follow Boaz’s lead in making allowances. This is only the beginning.

Holiness and Redemption - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

THE MYSTERY SURROUNDING BOAZ

Boaz may be stunned by Ruth’s presence and the words he has just heard her speak, but he is anything but speechless. Suddenly the script belongs to Boaz. Instead of taking offense or shaming and driving Ruth away into the night, as one might expect, his words are just as surprising as hers. He praises her actions, calls on Yahweh to bless her for what she has done, and links what she is doing to her earlier acts of hesed. “The LORD bless you, my daughter. … This kindness [hesed] is greater than that which you showed earlier: You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor” (Ruth 3:10).

He exonerates her behavior. She was not a man-chaser then, nor is she now. Far from being forward or inappropriate, her bold actions reflect a quality of righteousness that inspires an outpouring of praise from this highly esteemed man. And Boaz isn’t a victim of underhanded schemes, manipulation, or entrapment either. According to his interpretation of what is happening here, Ruth hasn’t made a blunder, but knows exactly what she is doing. He sees (and is in awe) that once again, hesed is at work, and in this, he is always a willing accomplice.

Students of the book of Ruth often draw attention to the fact that both Naomi and Boaz repeatedly address Ruth as “my daughter.”16 This has led many to conclude that Boaz is an older man and of the same generation as Naomi and Elimelech. For years I thought of Boaz (and heard teaching that portrayed him) as unmarried and perhaps a bit like Jane Austen’s Mr. Knightly, who was well-off and highly respected, but an older bachelor who for some unknown reason just hadn’t gotten around to marriage. But the more I’ve learned about patriarchal cultures such as you find in today’s Middle East, the more aware I am that my conclusions have been largely shaped by my Western views of relationships between men and women and are wide of the mark.

In the ancient Israelite society, it simply wasn’t possible to combine the levels of honor and stature that Boaz clearly possessed with the postponement of marriage or the absence of sons. It’s hard for those of us in the West to comprehend just how much hinges on producing sons in other societies, but in fact the very foundations and survival of many cultures depend on each generation’s success in producing a whole new crop of sons. A central thesis of the book of Ruth is the utter necessity of sons. Israelite parents would be a disgrace and grief to his family if he had no sons. And instead of admiration, the whole community would show pity toward him. In her insightful book on contemporary Middle Eastern culture, journalist Geraldine Brooks reveals the intense shame borne by a Palestinian man whose wife failed to produce a son. Utterly humiliated and frantic for a second wife, the man conceded bitterly, “I am nothing in this village without a son.”

When it comes to personal demographics, Boaz is something of a mystery man, and the narrator doesn’t fill in the blanks. We don’t know if Boaz had a living wife, or two or three, or if he was a widower. But to the early readers of this story, it really didn’t matter, for in ancient Israelite society polygamy was both common and accepted. Abraham, Jacob, and David are but a few significant examples of notable polygamists. In the eyes of that culture, a man with multiple wives was following an appropriate strategy (even a necessary one) for producing many sons, regardless of the negative repercussions in individual lives. It was also, oddly enough, something of a mercy for women, for it shielded them from the kinds of adversities Naomi and Ruth were suffering. We cannot know for sure whether Ruth’s proposal involved polygamy, but given the culture and Boaz’s age, it is almost certain he had sons of his own and their inheritance to consider when contemplating Ruth’s petition. This fact alone raises the stakes for the decision facing Boaz.

Risking Fatih - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

A HOLY RISK TAKER

He had a classic case of cold feet. BBC Radio sounded in the background as I was cleaning our Oxford flat. An actor was reading one of Maeve Binchy’s short stories1 about a couple on the eve of their wedding day. Bridal attendants, relatives, and other guests were arriving from out of town. After months of planning and expense, final details were all in order, and the big day was just hours away. Flowers had arrived, and the church looked lovely. The bride had only herself to prepare. She was looking forward to a long hot bath and a restful sleep. And now this. Her fiancé, sitting across from her, was ashen-faced and fumbling for words. She could hardly believe her ears. He was backing out. I stopped what I was doing and sat down on the sofa to listen.

There was nothing she could do. He just couldn’t go forward. To save face, she persuaded him to let her be the one who didn’t show up for the wedding. Relieved that she was taking it so well, the young man agreed. Under the circumstances, it was the least he could do. Next day, as promised, when the wedding march struck up, he solemnly took his place at the front of the church with his best man and the rector. The doors in the back swung open, and all eyes (including his) turned to look. I held my breath. The reader continued, “There she was, coming down the aisle, perfectly at ease on her father’s arm and as beautiful a bride as anyone could imagine.”

The couple didn’t discuss what happened until sometime later on their honeymoon, but the upshot was that she knew him better than he knew himself. The experience no doubt put him on notice that there was a good chance she’d outsmart him again in future situations where they didn’t see eye to eye.

Boaz got cold feet too, although the chill he felt was more from the cool night air than from a case of nerves. That isn’t to say his nerves didn’t get a jolt — just that nerves didn’t influence his behavior. In one of the most intriguing (and also comical, when you think about it) scenes in the Bible, Boaz — a buttoned-down man of impeccable conduct — awakens in the middle of the night to discover a woman lying at his feet. No doubt it’s an understatement to say he was jolted. There probably aren’t words to describe his shock at the awful predicament he was in, and it would be worth a lot to have seen the look on his face.

On the particular night in question, Boaz was a man at rest. The storyteller has fast forwarded about seven weeks2 through both the barley and wheat harvests, bringing us to scenes surrounding the winnowing of the grain.3 After this year’s harvest, Boaz’s quarterly reports are looking good. His accounts are in the black. His workers are paid, and he has even extended his hand to the poor. All season long, he has done everything according to the book. The threshing floor where he is sleeping is heaped with piles of winnowed grain — evidence of a successful crop, lots of hard work, and of God’s good bounty. With painful memories still fresh in his mind of the Bethlehem famine that once devastated his land, Boaz is a grateful man.

Ah, the well-deserved rest that comes to such a man. He has feasted merrily with his workers and is now slumbering peacefully on the threshing floor (presumably with one eye open to guard his grain). And now this. The silhouette of a woman next to him in the darkness has alarm bells going off in his head. Just wait until Bethlehem tabloids catch wind of this! This man of valor can easily imagine this private moment leading to a public fall from grace, no matter what happens next. Suddenly wide awake, Boaz whispers hoarsely in the darkness, “Who are you?” (Ruth 3:9).

THE PAST INVADES THE PRESENT

This, of course, is where it helps to remember that God is still the main hero of the story. The Bible (including this strange and mysterious episode) centers on revealing him and his transforming work in human hearts. There is deep theology in this chapter too, but we have to wade through some murky issues to begin to see it. Questions we face in this scene underscore why we need to keep reminding ourselves that each new episode in this story is deeply embedded in what has gone before.

Naomi, despite her remarkable recovery, is still in a lot of pain. And Ruth has not forgotten the pledge she made to her mother-in-law back on the road connecting Moab to Bethlehem. Even here with Boaz, her vow continues to be the driving force behind her choices and her actions. She worked diligently through the barley and the wheat harvests — close behind the maids of Boaz — to make sure Naomi has plenty to eat in the present and a well-stocked larder for the long winter ahead. But they are still in poverty, still putting one foot in front of the other in their efforts to survive. Ruth will bring as much energy, resourcefulness, devotion to Naomi, and out-of-the-box thinking to this new challenge as she has to everything else.

As for Boaz, his interactions with Ruth so far have only served to enhance his standing in the community. If anything, he stands even taller in Bethlehem now as both a man of valor and a man of uncommon generosity. We thought a lot of him when we first met him. Now that we’ve seen him voluntarily aiding Ruth’s efforts to take care of Naomi, we respect him even more. So whatever questions and uncertainties we bring to the current episode, our understanding of what happens next must factor in what we’ve already observed in the character and behavior of each of these three individuals up to this point.

Radical Kindness - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

A BLESSED ALLIANCE

All eyes are on Boaz, waiting for his reply. Will he brush her off or lash out over the forwardness of this foreigner? The Moabitess has gone too far. Ruth has crossed the line. Israelite protocol has been breeched. Will he eject her from his field? Will Boaz prove tightfisted, or will he open his hand? Boaz’s response is as astonishing as Ruth’s request is outrageous, and this is where our strong admiration for Boaz begins to grow. Instead of becoming defensive (this is his field, after all, and he is the boss), the lights go on and he fully embraces her suggestion. Instead of being displeased or offended, he is moved to act on her behalf. Boaz’s godliness is real, and he willingly follows Ruth’s lead. He actually appears driven — you might even say obsessed — to come up with ways of making her mission possible. In an astonishing outpouring of grace, Boaz exceeds the young Moabitess’ request. What follows is an openhearted sequence of actions where Boaz extends his hand and his resources to ensure Ruth’s success. Yes, by all means, she may glean among the reapers where there will be plenty of grain for her. He grants her special rights in his fields for the entire harvest season and urges her not to wander into other fields, but to glean only with his servant girls. Boaz personally guarantees her safety. “I have told the men not to touch you” (Ruth 2:9) — protection she will need when venturing into restricted zones where gleaners are banned and harvesters might mistreat her. His words, while reassuring, also reflect the real dangers women faced even in a godly landowner’s field. Boaz then invites Ruth to drink from the water jars his men fill. Now she won’t forfeit precious gleaning time by going elsewhere in search of water to quench her thirst. Ruth is overwhelmed. She drops to her knees, then bows to the ground in an oriental gesture of gratitude. Here is the landowner whose favor she was seeking, and he is more generous than she could have hoped.15 Let us be clear. Boaz is not motivated by sudden infatuation, but by a heart for Yahweh and by his deep respect and admiration for Ruth’s unprecedented kindness to Naomi. He knows she has given up much to come to Bethlehem with Naomi. And now with his own eyes, he sees her taking enormous risks as she gleans for the sake of her mother-in-law and giving Bethlehemites more to talk about. You can be sure this day’s events were soon added to local dinner conversations about the young Moabitess. Then, in words that soothed Ruth’s aching heart, Boaz opens his heart in blessing, as he prays, “May the LORD repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge” (Ruth 2:12). Boaz, of course, is unaware that he will, himself, have a hand in how God answers his prayer. Until this moment, Ruth’s interior world has been curtained off from us. The narrator hasn’t disclosed the inner workings of her heart. There were earlier hints in the story of her grief, but here, in this exchange with Boaz, we catch a glimpse of evidence that she is sorrowing as deeply as Naomi. In response to Boaz’s kindness and to his gentle words of blessing, Ruth responds, “You have given me comfort and have spoken kindly to your servant — though I do not have the standing of one of your servant girls” (Ruth 2:13, emphasis added).

God in the Ordinary - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

THE ANCIENT WELFARE SYSTEM

When Boaz woke up that morning, he had a hearty breakfast, a full agenda in front of him, and no forewarning that his life was about to change. Plans for the day included a routine trip to his barley fields to check on progress, talk to his foreman, and make sure things were running smoothly. Boaz was a man who was paying attention. Unlike many in the days of the judges, the man was meticulous in keeping God’s commands both in his personal conduct and in how he ran his business. In the fields belonging to Boaz gleaning practices were in effect. The “Gleaners Welcome” sign was posted conspicuously, in compliance with Mosaic Law. We’d expect no less from a man of such honorable reputation. This meant that his harvesters left the corners and edges of the field uncut when they harvested and that they only combed once over the field, leaving behind uncut grain and missed scraps for the poor — the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner.10 We have idealized images of how gleaning actually worked. We’ve all seen lovely pastoral paintings of gentle maidens scooping up armloads of golden grain. In reality, gleaners were often mistreated and went home hungry. A landowner might choose to keep them out or eject them if he pleased. Harvesters could get rough.11 Unattached women were especially at risk and could be (and were) victimized. Then, of course, gleaners competed with each other. Bump into another gleaner who is stronger, more aggressive, or simply hunger-driven, and you can expect to get shoved around. Depending on conditions and attitudes in the field, Ruth could easily labor all day and not bring home enough to feed her mother-in-law and herself. When I was on a mission trip in Central America, a missionary took the idealism out of my views of gleaning during a brief but unforgettable outing to the local garbage dump. It was a filthy place, and the stench turned my stomach. But more appalling than the odor was the sight of people — men, women, and children — crawling over piles of rubbish like an army of ants, gleaning “edible” bits of trash to eat and reusable scraps of cardboard to reinforce the flimsy walls of their dilapidated shacks. I couldn’t fathom eating anything in that awful place and afterward felt depressed for days. I still think of gleaners whenever I see a homeless person rummaging in the garbage outside a fast-food restaurant, scavenging for a few discarded fries or the uneaten remains of somebody’s Big Mac. Rather than accept the terms of gleaning and the meager offerings she could hope to bring home for Naomi and herself, Ruth challenges the status quo and stretches the limits of the law. By the time Boaz arrives, she has already made a highly irregular request to the foreman that goes beyond his authority to grant. Until the landowner comes and she learns how the matter will turn out, she diligently sets to work, picking up bits of grain here and there without stopping for rest breaks.

Walking on Water - Pastor Mark Morrison

 
 

Every so often, we will have a guest speaker at CrossView Church. We are so grateful for the gifted women and men that serve the Lord through teaching the word. This week we hear from Pastor Mark Morrison. Pastor Mark serves as the director of Shepherd Ministries. You can find out more information about Shepherd Ministries here.

Usually, when we have a guest speaker, we will not have a weekly devotion. We encourage you to watch the message again at some point throughout the week and to check out the resources listed below.

Blessings on you and your week.

Pastor Kyle

Turning Toward Hope - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

WHEN NAOMI AND RUTH COLLIDE

After Orpah’s departure an emotionally depleted Naomi gathers strength to deal with her remaining daughter-in-law. Orpah’s choice gives Naomi a new argument — a touch of peer pressure — that she levels at Ruth. Pointing down the road, she argues, “Look … your sister-in-law is going back to her people and her gods. Go back with her” (Ruth 1:15). When Naomi guides Ruth’s gaze to the disappearing form of her sister-in-law and describes Orpah’s actions in theological terms — a going back to her people and to her gods — something takes hold of Ruth that is bigger than both of them. It is as though, in an instant, the floodlights go on in the darkened stadium of Ruth’s soul, bringing the issues into razor-sharp focus. Despite Naomi’s urgings, at its core, this choice is not about geography, family loyalty, or the future. This decision is about God. With startling determination, Ruth embraces Naomi, resolutely digs in her heels, and insists that the arguments stop. “Do not pressure me to desert you, to give up following you” (Ruth 1:16, Hubbard translation).12 This is no halfhearted decision, but a commitment to the grave. “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried” (Ruth 1:16 – 17). To squelch any further debate on the subject, Ruth goes over Naomi’s head by appealing to Naomi’s God — the God Naomi has just identified as the enemy — to judge her severely if she fails to keep her word. “Thus may Yahweh do to me and more so if even death itself separates me from you” (Ruth 1:17, Hubbard translation, emphasis added). Ruth accompanies this vow with a violent gesture — perhaps a slashing motion towards her own throat — as if to say, “May God do ‘thus’ to me if I break my vow to you.”13 The impact on Naomi is impossible to imagine. Could there be a stronger collision of words than Naomi’s despairing, “The LORD’s hand has gone out against me,” and Ruth’s resolutely opposite, “Your God will be my God”? What kind of logic is this? The explanation we usually settle on is that Ruth is so devoted and close to her mother-in-law that she simply cannot bear to leave her. Without a doubt, Ruth’s loyal love for Naomi is one of the strongest themes flowing through this story — a love that in the end will prove more extraordinary and selfless than anyone could guess. But it is difficult to argue from this text for a chummy relationship between the two women. Interaction between Naomi and Ruth following this exchange doesn’t even hint of closeness between them. Instead, Naomi withdraws in stony silence: “When Naomi saw that she was firmly determined to go on with her, she said nothing more to her” (Ruth 1:18, Hubbard translation). When they finally arrive in Bethlehem, Naomi laments (with Ruth standing right beside her), “I went away full, but the LORD has brought me back empty” (Ruth 1:21). “Empty” is hardly what you’d expect to hear from a relieved mother-in-law safely back from the brink of nearly losing her precious Ruth. In silence, a bewildered Naomi collects her possessions and resumes the journey to Bethlehem with her unbending daughter-in-law at her side. This is the first time Ruth breaks the rules. It will not be the last.

When Life Falls Apart - Ruth Series

This devotion is an excerpt from the book, The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and was written by Carolyn Custis James. We hope you will be encouraged.

A Female Job:

So what was Naomi thinking as she sifted through the ruins of her life and contemplated the God she had believed in since she was a child? Did she mutter a “So much for your God” to herself? What did her two Moabite daughters-in-law think after witnessing the tsunamis that swept away Naomi’s world without a whisper of interference from her God? Not only were they eyewitnesses of their mother-in-law’s losses, they were caught in the tidal wave of her sorrows and were drowning in grief themselves. The collapse of Naomi’s world did not happen in a day but was spread out over years of heartache and tragedy. There were no heroic rescue workers rushing in to carry her to safety, no grim-faced news anchors choking back the tears as they reported a relentless sequence of disasters that sent her into shock, no half-mast flags or weeping nation to grieve her losses. Naomi’s grief was a long time coming, the buildup of years of major disappointments, setbacks, and losses retold by the biblical narrator as cold facts in five short verses, without so much as a sigh or a tear. I never connected emotionally with Naomi’s losses until I heard her compared to the legendary sufferer Job. That got my attention. Until then, her sufferings seemed to serve as props to set up the real drama — the love story between Ruth and Boaz. In my eagerness to get to the part where Boaz enters the narrative, I stepped over a shattered Naomi and, in the process, missed the real power of the story — a story of a woman’s struggle with God. Glossing over Naomi’s agonies comes at a high price, for by minimizing Naomi’s pain, we inadvertently minimize our own. We owe it to Naomi and to ourselves to stop and contemplate the collapsing towers in Naomi’s life — to sit with her for a while at ground zero — for without a better grasp of her sufferings, we will miss the impact of her doubts about God and the power of the Gospel of Ruth.

James, Carolyn Custis. The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules (pp. 37-38). (Function). Kindle Edition.

Changing World, Unchanging God - Pastor Mark Morrison

 
 

Every so often, we will have a guest speaker at CrossView Church. We are so grateful for the gifted women and men that serve the Lord through teaching the word. This week we hear from Pastor Mark Morrison. Pastor Mark serves as the director of Shepherd Ministries. You can find out more information about Shepherd Ministries here.

Usually, when we have a guest speaker, we will not have a weekly devotion. We encourage you to watch the message again at some point throughout the week and to check out the resources listed below.

Blessings on you and your week.

Pastor Kyle

Christmas Sunday - Advent 2025

This week’s devotional was written by the Bible Project Team and is entitled, “The Birth of Jesus.” We hope you will be encouraged.

Have you ever excitedly anticipated something only to find that when it arrived it was nothing like what you had expected? Maybe as a kid you were expecting to get a BB gun for Christmas, but instead you unwrapped pajamas. What a letdown! Well, when we unwrap the story of Jesus’ birth, it isn’t what you might expect, but it certainly isn’t a letdown. Let’s explore the cast of characters and the events surrounding the birth of Jesus in the first two chapters of Luke.

The Time Had Come

For 400 years before Jesus’ birth, God was silent. He spoke no prophetic words, psalms or encouragement to His people. And then one day, He appeared and made a fairly significant announcement. What was the message that would compel God to break His silence?

For centuries, dating all the way back to Genesis 2, the scriptures would point to a Savior who would deliver the world from the bondage of sin and establish God’s kingdom on earth. You can imagine then, when this Messiah finally came in the form of a tiny baby Jesus, born to a young, poor, no-named girl (AKA the famous Virgin Mary) people might doubt. Surely this could not be the savior the prophets spoke of! Baby Jesus was after all born in a barn of all places, placed in a feeding trough, and His birth was celebrated by goat and sheep-herders. These were hardly appropriate accommodations for the King of Kings...or were they?

The Herald – John the Baptist

It all began with an old barren couple, reminiscent of Abraham and Sarah. Zechariah, a priest, and his wife Elizabeth, a descendant of Israel’s first High Priest Aaron, tried unsuccessfully for years to have a baby. Even though Zechariah worked in the temple, the couple may have faced criticism, shame, and guilt because of their barrenness.

And then one day, an angel named Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and told him to get ready for a son. He and Elizabeth would name him John. The boy would bring his parents joy, be great in God’s sight, and prepare the people for the Messiah. (Fun family fact: Elizabeth and Mary were cousins).

Zechariah couldn’t believe the news. How could he and Elizabeth possibly have a baby? Because he questioned Gabriel in disbelief, Zechariah was struck with muteness. He would be silent until John was born and God’s prophecy was fulfilled.

Holy Spirit Conception

Gabriel was, of course, also met with skepticism from Mary when he delivered the second announcement. “How shall this be? Seeing I know not a man?” said Mary. Gabriel explained the Invisible Spirit of God, the Holy Ghost, would overshadow her and “that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.” She would call His name Jesus. Mary accepted the angel’s words, affirmed her willingness to serve God, and pondered the coming birth of Jesus.

As we read Luke’s account of these incredible events, you can imagine the full range of emotion that Mary was experiencing—and Joseph, her fiancé, as well. In this story of immaculate conception, Mary demonstrates that while she might have been the least-likely candidate for the mother through whom God binds Himself to humanity, He does it so that there can be no mistake that His hand is directing it. He makes the impossible possible — conception within a barren Elizabeth and a Virgin Mary.

God’s miracle birth announcements are only the beginning of an incredible story orchestrated by God and recorded by Luke. Early in this story, in the first two chapters in fact, we gain valuable insight into God’s plan. He would use those in the low places, the poor and invisible, to bring about his new world order.

The Larger Mission of Love - Advent 2025

This devotion was written by Anna Grace Legband and is entitled, “Brought To The Light: Advent For Those Who Need It.” Anna Grace Legband is a contributing author at Seedbed.com. We hope you will be encouraged.

Luke 2:25-35:

“At that time there was a man in Jerusalem named Simeon. He was righteous and devout and was eagerly waiting for the Messiah to come and rescue Israel. The Holy Spirit was upon him and had revealed to him that he would not die until he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. That day the Spirit led him to the Temple. So when Mary and Joseph came to present the baby Jesus to the Lord as the law required, Simeon was there. He took the child in his arms and praised God, saying, 

“Sovereign Lord, now let your servant die in peace, as you have promised. I have seen your salvation, which you have prepared for all people. He is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel!” 

Jesus’ parents were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them, and he said to Mary, the baby’s mother, “This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall, and many others to rise. He has been sent as a sign from God, but many will oppose him. As a result, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul.” 

Consider This

Our final Christmas song comes after the birth of Jesus, in response to the infant Jesus being brought into the temple.

Simeon is described as a “righteous and devout” man. His name, meaning “he who listens” or “he who hears,” reflects a life of attentiveness to God’s voice. His entire story is a testimony to the Spirit’s work. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he waited faithfully, having been assured that he would not die before seeing the Lord’s Messiah. Simeon didn’t happen upon the temple courts by chance—he was led there by the Spirit.

For Simeon, the “consolation of Israel” was not merely a theological idea; it was the longing of his heart—the hope for redemption, freedom, and the restoration of God’s people. The work of the Holy Spirit in Simeon’s life shaped his longings and positioned him to respond to the presence of Jesus when He arrived.

As Simeon held the infant Jesus, he declared: “For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”

In this declaration, Simeon recognized that Jesus’s mission extended far beyond Israel. He proclaimed that this child was not just the consolation for Israel, but the Savior of all nations, the light that would reveal God’s salvation to the Gentiles—to people like us.

These words were spoken in the temple, the heart of Jewish worship and life. To declare that the Messiah had come and would not just save Israel but also be a light of revelation to Gentiles was significant. Simeon’s worship caused Joseph and Mary—already aware of who Jesus was—to marvel at the magnitude of His mission.

Entering the temple courts, Jesus’s presence carried profound implications for the Jewish people within its walls and the Gentiles outside of it. Simeon’s song reminds us of a vital truth about Christmas: While it is a profound celebration for those who know and love Jesus, it is even more important for those who don’t.

Simeon’s life, shaped by the Spirit’s work and marked by his readiness to recognize God’s presence, challenges us to live with the same attentiveness and mission. My guess is, if you’re reading an Advent devotional, you likely have some degree of devout faith, similar to Simeon. Today, as you encounter and remember the person of Jesus, I want to invite you to join Simeon’s song, proclaiming Jesus as the “light for revelation” to the world.

A Kingdom of Joy - Advent 2025

This devotion was written by Anna Grace Legband and is entitled, “Brought To The Light: Advent For Those Who Need It.” Anna Grace Legband is a contributing author at Seedbed.com. We hope you will be encouraged.

Luke 2:8–16:

“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.”

Consider This

The third song of Advent is short and sweet, a one-liner, but arguably with the best production value—multitudes of angels appearing all at once, singing, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (v. 14).

The angels were announcing that the Messiah had come. There’s a bit of irony in this situation. It would make sense for the Messiah to arrive with the same kind of heavenly glory the shepherds witnessed in the field—angels, light, and divine splendor. Instead, the angels’ grand announcement pointed to something very different: go look for a newborn baby in a nearby town, lying in a manger. That’s where the real glory is.

God’s glory and presence were not found in the angelic visitation or the heavenly host on display. Instead, the presence of God was found in a manger, hidden in the darkness of the night.

How often do we worship the wrong thing? We are awed by the things of God, and we stop there. We end up worshipping the moments instead of the God they point to.

The glory of God in this story appeared to an unlikely group of people (shepherds) in an unlikely location (a field) in an unlikely way (a baby in a manger). It redefines what we often think of as glorious and calls us to expand our understanding of where God’s presence is found.

Reflecting on the irony of this story, I’m reminded of another story. In 1 Kings 19, Elijah—who had encountered God in dramatic ways, like a column of fire and a rainstorm—was hiding in a cave, running for his life. God told him to stand outside the cave because the Lord was about to pass by. A powerful windstorm came, but God wasn’t in the wind. Then an earthquake came, but God wasn’t in the earthquake. Then a fire came, but God wasn’t in the fire. Finally, a gentle whisper came, and that’s where Elijah encountered God.

Just because Elijah had experienced God’s presence in one way before didn’t mean God would always show up the same way. The glory wasn’t in the packaging, it was in the presence of God.

And that’s the point. It’s not that dramatic manifestations of God’s power are bad. I’ve had moments in my life where I’ve encountered the presence of God in powerful, heaven-meets-earth ways. Even this past year, I can think of a moment that felt like something you’d read about in revival history books.

But the point is this: God’s glory isn’t tied to any specific form or experience. His glory is in His presence—sometimes loud and obvious, other times quiet and hidden. Are we paying attention to where God’s glory might be showing up? And how are we responding to it?

Response Prompts

List moments when you’ve experienced God’s glory— big or small. For each moment, write a one-liner in response, inspired by the angels’ song in Luke 2. As you reflect and write, it may be helpful to consider the following:

  • How was God’s presence revealed to you?

  • What does this moment reveal about who God is?

If you feel inspired, go beyond words: create a visual representation of one or more of these experiences. Use a medium like drawing, painting, collage, or photography to capture God’s glory in your story.

Prayer

Lord, thank You for the ways in which Your glory and presence have been revealed to me. Help me to respond to You when You reveal Yourself in unexpected or new ways. Amen.

A Different Kind of Peace - Advent 2025

This devotion was written by Anna Grace Legband and is entitled, “Brought To The Light: Advent For Those Who Need It.” Anna Grace Legband is a contributing author at Seedbed.com. We hope you will be encouraged.

Micah 5:2–5a

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.” Therefore Israel will be abandoned until the time when she who is in labor bears a son, and the rest of his brothers return to join the Israelites. He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they will live securely, for then his greatness will reach to the ends of the earth. And he will be our peace when the Assyrians invade our land and march through our fortresses.”

Consider This

The word of the Lord through the prophets continued to reveal more and more about the nature of the coming Messiah. Micah’s prophecy promises a shepherd leader whose greatness will reach to the ends of the earth. Not only will he “stand and shepherd his flock in the strength . . . [and] in the majesty of the name of the Lord” (v. 4), but “he will be our peace . . .”—Christmas card worthy—“when the Assyrians invade our land and march through our fortresses” (v. 5)—probably not making it onto the Christmas card.

While it’s tempting to want to cut and paste the first half of the verse and toss out the second bit, we actually miss the significance of what Micah is saying here in doing so. The disruption of peace as we understand it—freedom from conflict, problems, stress, and so forth—is crucial to understanding the peace Jesus offers.

In the midst of the invasion of their land and losing their fortresses to their enemies, He will be their peace. Not if something bad happens, but when something bad happens, He will be our peace.

I notice the word choice: fortresses. A fortress is a place of security, refuge, protection, strength, and safety. It’s a stronghold where we expect to be safe from the enemy, a place that is not meant to be disturbed, much less overrun by invaders. And yet, the scripture says, “He will be our peace when the Assyrians invade our land and march through our fortresses” (v. 5). These strong, secure places—where we expect to be safe—are not immune to destruction. It’s in these moments of vulnerability, when everything we thought was secure is shaken, that God promises to be our peace. This is why the psalms are full of songs and prayers describing God as a fortress:

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. (Ps. 62:5–6)

We are not promised the absence of pain, suffering, trials, grief, or loss. In fact, Scripture tells us these things will come. Following Jesus doesn’t make us immune to hardship. But we are promised presence. One of the greatest promises of the Bible is that God is with us. That’s what Advent is all about: God being with us (Immanuel).

God does not offer peace by removing the challenges but by entering into them with us; not peace in the absence of adversity, but peace in the midst of it. The Messiah doesn’t just bring peace, He is peace. He will be our peace, not a change in circumstances or a favorable outcome, but the presence of Jesus Himself. God with us, Immanuel.

And he will be my peace when . . .

There are bills to pay and the bank account doesn’t add up.

The test results come back negative.

I face the weight of loss that seems too heavy to bear.

The job I thought was secure is no longer mine.

The world around me is chaotic.

I get the diagnosis I never could have imagined.

A relationship I’ve held dear begins to fall apart.

The uncertainty of the future keeps me awake at night.

The fortresses in which I have taken refuge come falling down.

In all of these things, He will be my peace.

Response Prompts

1. If you had to write a definition for “peace” based on how it’s described in Scripture, what would it be?

2. What does it mean for you personally that Jesus doesn’t just bring peace, but that He is peace? How have you experienced this in your life?

3. Is there a situation or circumstance where you need to experience Jesus’s peace? If so, I encourage you to fill in the blank: He will be my peace when . Read it out loud, write it down, and put it somewhere you’ll see it often.

Prayer

Lord, You are my good shepherd. My strong fortress. My peace. Thank You for Your promise to be with me. Help me to know this reality more deeply, to recognize that Your presence is always.

Wake Up! - Advent 2025

This week’s devotional was written by Sarah Wanck and is entitled, A Hopeful Invitation. Sarah Wanck is a contributing author at seedbed.com. We hope you will be encouraged.

CONSIDER THIS

The beginning of Advent doesn’t begin in the story of shepherds and angels or even in John’s joyful introduction of a coming Messiah. Advent begins long before, when the darkness was all-consuming, and all hope seemed lost. Advent begins in the dark. Much like light broke forth over the pitch black of an unformed creation, Advent begins in the helplessness and hopelessness of the night. Today’s passage is no different. An important part of our reflection, our preparation for the coming Christ, is remembering the despair of the people of God and how God’s promise entered in there too. 

The book of Isaiah is a narrative of the events regarding the people of God during a painful time of destruction and division and Isaiah’s prophecy in it. Just before this passage, Isaiah spoke of sin, conviction, and the death that comes in separation from God. But the previous chapter ends with a glimpse of a coming hope for a people lost in hopelessness. 

Before we talk about today’s beautiful words, we have to acknowledge what was happening for those who first heard them. The people of God, long ago, had been chosen, set apart, favored, and protected. Even though they struggled with seasons of great disobedience and rebellion, God would reach in with his promise of redemption and care, repeatedly renewing his promise to make this nation as numerous as the stars in the night sky. But the people of God, in this season of Isaiah’s prophecy, had been divided, destroyed, and oppressed. They were as far from the fulfillment of God’s promise to be a great nation as they could ever be. They had been conquered by another people, their territory divided, and their holy city destroyed.

While they are actively living in the darkness of deep despair, Isaiah commands these words. “Arise, shine, for your light has come.” Arise. Get up. The glory of the Lord rises on you. The power of that contrast has a hard time sinking in for me. In the division. In the despair. When we are convinced everything’s gone, is that when we’re supposed to rise up? And, with a clarity we only have in hindsight, even as Isaiah declared this prophecy, there was more darkness ahead when their holy temple would be laid bare by a conquering nation. The place where they worshiped, the very place of God’s presence with them, would soon be gone. 

How in the world can you rise up when so much has fallen flat?

In the darkness of their despair, Isaiah shares a prophecy of encouragement, that God has not forgotten them, that the world’s redemption was still coming, and to not lose hope for the coming of their Messiah and King. 

But when you’re in the darkness, it’s hard to believe. 

Some of you know our story; many others do not. Part of the redemption of our pain is sharing it, so others can find God in their darkness too. Late in December 2020, actually the day the Bethlehem star appeared in the sky, Gabe and I learned we were, quite literally, miraculously pregnant. Many years before, we had given up hope for biological children, and the Lord healed our hearts through the incredible gift of adoption. But just to show off, the Lord gave us the gift of pregnancy and a sweet baby girl. We shared the story of her miracle with anyone who would hear, so God would be glorified in her gift. Then, just weeks before we expected her arrival, she was gone. Without notice or cause, our little miracle slipped through our grasp. And we fell into a pit of incredible despair. 

If you’ve been in a place of deep darkness and incredible despair, you know that somehow the emotions of despair, fury, and heartbreak swirl around in the numbness and confusion that strips you of all capacity. And sometimes, many times, all you can do is allow yourself to be swept up in the grief and the darkness of night. 

Just three months after that incredible heartbreak, Gabe and I returned to our spiritual home at the New Room Conference. We needed to be there. We needed our spiritual family and to worship the Lord in spite of our pain. One particular night of the conference, the speaker invited us to a time of ministry and prayer to find our way forward in surrender if we needed to “rise up” out of the graves of our despair. 

I couldn’t move forward fast enough and laid myself upward across the steps of the altar and stage. I laid there peacefully, honestly, and in the fullness of grief; I invited God to raise me up, lift me out of this darkness, and restore my broken heart to fullness of life. And as I lay there, he eventually, and so very gently, said to my soul, “not yet.”

The tension of Advent is the pull between the darkness and the light. We live in the pain of actively unfolding darkness, even while the promise of Christ’s breaking into the darkness is already accomplished. The people of God were living in the pain of destruction and oppression, but Isaiah was calling them to take heart in a brightness that would still come, but they couldn’t yet see. He was asking them to believe that the dawn was breaking before it actually did. In fact, it would be seven hundred years before Christ’s light would dawn on earth. Isaiah was encouraging them with hope, the promise that God had not forgotten them, that he would prevail, and one day, in Christ’s time, they would truly “rise up.” 

Until then, until that day, the rising of their dawn would not be in the physical arrival of the Messiah or the restoration of their nation; the rising would simply be in them as they allowed the hope of God’s faithfulness to break forth in the dark places of their spirit and bring new life. Though in the darkness of our pain, my “rising” wouldn’t come for a while. When the Lord said, “not yet,” the yet was evidence that one day I would. 

This Advent, Christ breaking in through you, maybe the hopeful encouragement that one day, your rising will come, and one day, his return will come too. 

THE PRAYER

Father God, we give you thanks for your faithfulness through the ages. We stand in awe of your vision that can see from the beginning to the end, the promise of resurrection, redemption, and arrival. And we join you in the believing command that your presence with us can raise our spirits, repair our broken hearts, and give us hope to cling to. When we’re not ready to rise just yet, help us to feel your patient presence, waiting with us in our pain, but pointing forward for a day of renewal still to come. And as we walk through our grief, may we, like the words of Isaiah, allow your glory to shine all over us. In Jesus’s name, amen.

The Generosity of the Church - Generosity Series

This week’s devotional was written by J.D. Walt and is entitled, “The Secret Breakthrough of Generosity.” J.D. Walt is the Executive Director of Seedbed.com. We hope you will be encouraged.

HEAR

Luke 21:1–4 NIV: “As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”

CONSIDER

Have you ever heard the phrase, “Give till it hurts?” 

It’s one of those favorite phrases of money-grubbing preachers which I never understood—until I did. 

I was in my last year of seminary, and I was out of money.

Growing up, I was taught to never let the collection plate pass me by without making an offering, and I usually did. It was a quarter as a kid, a dollar as a teenager, and maybe a $5 as an emerging adult. Then one day, the preacher of my church brought up tithing, a foreign concept not only to me but to my entire church (and I dare say denomination). Now, Luke 21 is not a text about tithing, and I don’t intend to get into the subject other than to say, I decided to start tithing then and there. Of course, I was only making $300 a week in my part-time job, so $30 didn’t feel like too big of a stretch. In other words—it didn’t really hurt—but I was satisfied I was becoming a serious giver. 

Fast forward to my last year of seminary, and I was down to the final distribution of the inheritance from my grandfather. It was $10,000. And you are starting to feel “the hurt” with me. The Chapel was receiving an offering for the emergency relief fund for seminary students that week. Knowing what I had to do, I went to the bank and got ten crisp $100 bills. I put them into an envelope and carried it to chapel that day. The plate went by, I reached into my pocket for the envelope, and just as the plate passed by, I felt intense pain shooting through my soul. Yes, I left the money in my pocket. 

You see, I knew $10,000 wouldn’t cover even half of my tuition for that last year (much less the rest of the bills), and I had no idea how I would cover it. I had also signed up for a once-in-a-lifetime on-location Bible class in Israel with none other than the G.O.A.T. Bible professor, Dr. John Oswalt, which was going to cost significantly more than the normal annual seminary budget. There’s no way I could afford to part with one thousand precious dollars when I already had way less than enough and no plan to cover. 

As the chapel service ended, I remained in my seat. As everyone cleared out, it was just me, the offering plate still on the altar table, and the now sweat-soaked envelope in my pocket. As the clock ticked, I knew what I had to do. With no one but Jesus watching (because we know from today’s text that he does), I rose to my feet, walked to the altar, and placed my precious tithe of $1000 into the collection plate, and I sheepishly walked away. 

Finally, I understood. I gave till it hurt. And then it felt strangely good. I had trusted God like I never had before. I put my money where my faith was. And isn’t that the point here? As long as money is about money, we are living in a world of broken scarcity. But the minute money becomes about God through faith, we are practically delivered from the idolatry of money into the mind-blowing economy of Jesus.

I knew I couldn’t trust the money I had left to make ends meet for me. It was mathematically impossible. I had to trust God. Those ten one-hundred-dollar bills became my buy-in—not for the salvation of my soul, which comes by grace alone—but into the realized superabundance of the kingdom of God in the real world. In the pain of that gift on that day long ago, I discovered the secret of breakthrough generosity. 

PRAY

Lord Jesus, you are the super abundance of the kingdom of God in the real world. In your hands, the fishes and loaves of my limited life become the extraordinary testimony of your transformational power. Would you break the cycle of wilderness scarcity in me and lead me into the promised land of your never-ending provision? It will be for your glory, for others’ gain, and for my own good. Praying in your name, Jesus, amen. 

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