Matthew 18:4 Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
It never ceases to amaze me how our little girl, Elianna is growing and developing. I remember when she first came into this world, she was so helpless and frail — she couldn’t even move her head without our help. Now, just having turned two, she’s running around and tumbling, jumping, singing and dancing!
Once, back in those days when Elianna was much more dependent on us, she was crying about something or another. And on this particular day, nothing would comfort her until I picked her up into my arms. I remember thinking that day, how good it was to feel needed and loved by this little one — and how wonderful it felt for that moment, that only I could make her happy.
And this got me thinking about something.
How easy is it for us to find our identities in the things we do in this world? We’re good fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, good employees, etc. Now, it’s not wrong to enjoy these positions. The problem comes, though, when we feel so accomplished in these things that they become who we are. And later, when we’re wrapped all up in that identity, and we don’t do such a great job at it, we feel like failures.
It’s much harder to find our identity as a child of God, than it is our earthly occupations. I mean — which would you rather be, a great mom, an employee who’s just earned a raise, an appreciated pastor — or a little helpless child who must be totally dependent upon His Father for every need? But it’s SO important to first find our identity as children of the living God, and then in these secondary things!
Let’s ask the Lord to help us get into a new mindset today. It will help us stay humble and care free, knowing that we are but children of a Father who will take care of it all and striving to stay dependent upon Him!
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When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”