
We all want our lives to mean something—to make a name for ourselves that people will actually remember. The builders at Babel in Genesis 11 wanted exactly that, and the choice they made raises an uncomfortable question for anyone who’s ever chased significance: is the tower you’re building any different from theirs?
Asking God what His will is can quietly become another way of living for yourself—always scanning the horizon for the next big thing He has for you, while the world shapes you into its own image in the meantime. Romans 12:1–2 pushes back on that, calling us to something that starts not with where we’re going, but with what we’re willing to offer right where we are.

Saying the right things about Jesus can feel like a low-risk move until He keeps walking and we have to follow. The next part of our journey in Matthew 9 leads us to face the uncomfortable junction of faith and faithfulness.

Any given day we take in thousands of ads, texts, and broadcasts, and we start to wonder if we’re even listening to the right voice. James 1:19–26 says be quick to hear, slow to speak, and doers of the word—not hearers only. Someone around you is already listening to yours.

We see lots of details but miss the main point when we come to Jesus mainly to eliminate problems here and now. In Matthew 9:18–26, two people reach out to Jesus with needs very much like the ones we have and must wrestle with the deeper point of Jesus’s ministry — just like we do.

You can sit in a room full of people and still feel like the only one. In Genesis 2, Adam is the lone human until he sees someone who is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh, and the first words from human lips are delight. We were wired for that face-to-face connection, and most of us still know the ache when it is missing.

When we struggle to translate from one language to another, we’re painfully reminded of the problems coming from the Tower of Babel. But do we remember the temptation of that situation, one that plays to our own ambitions still today?

Maybe you had a childhood toy that took your voice and sent it back distorted and amplified. Small choices work the same way in Proverbs 3:34-35 — God reciprocates what we put out into the world, amplifying our foolishness so we see it clearly, or honoring our wisdom in ways that matter eternally.

Most of us know our own dirt isn’t the curated kind—and suspect it may be too much to clean up. In Matthew 9, Jesus walks past everyone with the polished-for-consumption sob story and stops at a tax collector’s booth, a man whose sin was public knowledge, and says simply, “Follow me.”


When we try to live by “Don’t Be Evil,” we find that we end up being evil in the end. There’s a better way.

When we try to live by “Don’t Be Evil,” we find that we end up being evil in the end. There’s a better way.

We’ve all known someone’s birthday was coming, kept it in the back of our minds, and then realized two weeks too late that we never said a word—recognized it, but never responded. In Matthew 8, the demons who meet Jesus call him “Son of God” with more clarity than almost anyone else in the Gospel, yet that recognition leads somewhere unexpected and deeply unsettling.

Most of us feel satisfied if we manage not to do evil—if we avoid the obvious wrongs, the cruelties we can see. But there’s a quieter failure Proverbs 3:27–28 names: the moment when you know exactly what good you could do, right now, and you choose not to do it. Google once promised not to be evil as it rose above other tech firms, yet the real challenge—for companies and individuals alike—comes in everyday decisions about whether to give good or hold it back. When does restraint from wrongdoing become complicity with harm?

We can gather up what feels like security, but are we actually secure? Proverbs challenges to make sure we have the right point of security.


Can we choose our own adventure wisdom? The Bible says “no” for a very important reason.

We have a lot of things we think are signs of the “blessed life”? Proverbs has a clear answer that challenges our assumptions.

God’s discipline isn’t a topic we like talking about or facing in any way. It feels intimidating and leaves us wondering if God is angry at us. But Proverbs gives us a different story.