What happens when following God leads straight into a desert? In Genesis 12 and 15, Abraham reaches the promised land only to face famine, barrenness, and the apparent impossibility of becoming a great nation. Then God takes him beneath the night sky, where countless stars frame the tension between present circumstances and a promise that seems beyond reach.
In a snowstorm, the signs showing miles to safety keep you moving even when relief feels hours away. You eat, you sleep, you feel better—so you believe that’s where strength comes from. But what happens when food runs out, rest doesn’t help, and the world keeps breaking? David pleads the same in Psalm 13, cutting to the real source of life: “Look at me, answer me, oh Lord, my God, revive me, or else I will die.” When personal storms and world chaos collide, what keeps hope alive?
Jason looked to the Gospel of John to help us think about encountering Jesus as we begin Holy Week.
Jim Wolfe takes us to Joshua to look at God’s consistent care that is shown throughout Scripture.
Jason walks us through the beautiful story of Ruth and how the story points us to the Savior as we continue on in 52 Verses, 52 Books and 52 Weeks for 2026.
An ox knows who feeds it; a donkey knows its master’s crib. But what about God’s people — including us? We forget.
We tend to skip the genealogy at the start of Matthew—all those names, so many of them people we know nothing about. In doing so we miss something that matters deeply to ordinary people like us who wonder whether God actually works through lives like theirs.
We tend to assume God works through the right people, in the right places, with the right credentials. Isaiah 44–45 is genuinely jarring to our assumptions: the Lord names a pagan, idol-worshiping foreign king as the one who will restore His people to their land.
God works through ordinary people facing extraordinary pain. Hannah, a barren woman in a hostile household, pours out her anguish before the Lord rather than seeking revenge or retreating and He answers. He still does.
The wicked bend their bows, the foundations feel destroyed, and everyone around David has a reasonable-sounding answer: flee. Psalm 11 plants its feet against that pressure, asking whether the upheaval surrounding the righteous actually means what it looks like it means.