1 Cor. 6:19-20 Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit in you, whom you have of God? And you are not your own, for you are bought with a price. Therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God's.
A few years ago, there was a fascinating article in Bloomberg about how the prices of some paintings are falling rapidly. As I read the article I wondered just how much paintings actually go for.
The most expensive painting according to Wikipedia was sold for over $300 million dollars. It's called "Interchange" by Willem de Kooning. I thought -- "wow that's a lot of money." Then there was another painting called "Number 17A" by Jackson Pollock that was sold for over $200 million dollars!
As I perused Pollock's collection, (I'm no art connoisseur) the paintings looked like a bunch of house painters' drop cloths that were hung on the wall. Honestly, to me they just looked like a mess -- yet people have paid millions of dollars for these works!
That got me to thinking -- what is a human life worth? To some uninformed or cynical eyes, human beings are just a mess of "useless eaters" (a phrase used by Henry Kissinger to describe the elderly) ... but we know that every human life is extremely valuable because God was willing to pay the highest price for it. He gave His Son for your life -- declaring its value in His own precious blood!
So while you may feel, or even look like a house painter's drop cloth, in God's economy -- the only one that matters -- you are priceless, of inestimable value!
Live your life in the Father's estimation of its value. You are a precious piece in His "collection" His valuation of you is filled with loving purpose -- let it sink in -- you are precious, "worth more than many sparrows"; bought and paid for by the King of Kings whose taste is impeccable!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.