Colossians 4:5-6 Walk in wisdom toward those who are outside, redeeming the time. 6 Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.
As ambassadors of Christ, we don’t just represent His Kingdom–we reflect His heart. Paul’s words in Colossians 4:5-6 are not just good advice; they’re a commissioning. We are called to walk wisely among those who do not yet know Christ, recognizing that every interaction is a divine opportunity.
To “walk in wisdom” means we approach others with discernment and humility, especially those outside the household of faith. Cultural intelligence is not just about knowing customs — it’s about understanding people. It’s about listening more than speaking, learning before correcting, and seeing through the lens of compassion instead of criticism.
Paul emphasizes timing and tone: making the most of every opportunity and letting our words be gracious, full of life, not judgment. “Seasoned with salt” doesn’t mean bland; it means flavorful and preserving. Salt adds value. It heals. It provokes thirst. In the same way, our words should point to something deeper–something eternal.
In a world quick to cancel, offend, and divide, the ambassador of Christ is one who builds bridges. We don’t compromise truth, but we carry it in a vessel of grace. This is how hearts are softened. This is how lives are changed.
So today, as you enter conversations, scroll through timelines, or cross paths with those who think, live, or believe differently–don’t just speak–represent. You are not merely commenting–you are carrying the authority of Heaven. Ask the Holy Spirit for divine insight before you open your mouth. Let your words be more than opinions–let them be weapons of light, truth wrapped in grace, bearing the fragrance of Christ in a world suffocating on bitterness and division. Be the voice that turns hearts, not just heads. Speak as one sent.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Yeshua (Jesus) didn’t merely offer a suggestion–He issued a command: “Learn the parable.” In Greek, the word manthano (μανθάνω) implies disciplined learning, not casual observation. In Hebraic thought, to “learn” a parable means to press into its hidden meaning until it transforms how you live. The fig tree is not just a poetic image–it’s a prophetic mandate. And Yeshua expected His disciples, including us, to understand it deeply.
Yeshua (Jesus) used the fig tree—a familiar symbol in Israel’s botanical and prophetic world—as a teaching tool to awaken spiritual discernment. The fig tree, known for losing all its leaves in winter and budding again in spring, became a natural signpost to mark the changing seasons. In the same way, Jesus gave His disciples prophetic markers to discern a coming shift: wars, famines, false messiahs, persecution, lawlessness, and the global preaching of the gospel (Matthew 24:4–14).
On July 4th, America remembers a bold declaration — a break from tyranny, a longing for a better government, and the birth of a nation built on liberty. The Founders risked everything to establish a new way of life, one where freedom could flourish. Their cry was clear: “We will no longer be ruled by kings who oppress–we will be governed by laws that reflect liberty and justice.”
In a world full of uncertainty, this verse from Romans stands like a lighthouse in the storm: “The God of hope…” Not just the God who gives hope, but the very source of it. When everything around us seems shaken — economies falter, nations rage, relationships strain — it is the God of hope who remains unshaken and unchanging.
When Yeshua (Jesus) spoke these words not only to the seventy He sent ahead of Him, but to every disciple who follows Him into the world, it’s a striking picture: fields overflowing with a harvest, ready to be gathered. The problem isn’t the readiness of the harvest — it’s the shortage of workers willing to go.
This piercing question opens Psalm 11 like a cry from the heart in troubled times. It’s a question we ask when law and order collapse, when truth is ridiculed, and when those who do evil seem to triumph. The foundations — the principles of righteousness, justice, and truth that uphold society — are under siege. And it begs the question: What can God’s people do when everything righteous seems to be crumbling?
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.