Our home has a well-stocked, overflowing bookshelf. I have a weakness for beautiful books, especially nice hardcovers, and over the years more and more have been added to the collection. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the time and energy to actually read nearly as many of the volumes as I’ve collected. They remain pristine, beautiful, and—sadly—unread.
There’s a danger that our Bibles can become a bit like that. Essayist John Updike, speaking of the American classic Walden, commented that it risked being as “revered and unread as the Bible.” The difficulty of understanding ancient Scriptures written in different cultures than our own can tempt us to leave our Bibles on the shelf—beautiful, beloved, but unread.
It doesn’t have to be that way. As the psalmist does in Psalm 119, we can turn to God, asking Him to “open [our] eyes” to see Scripture’s riches (v. 18). We can find trustworthy teachers to help us “understand what [we’re] reading” (Acts 8:30-31). And believers have Christ’s Spirit to guide our hearts to see how it all points to Him (Luke 24:27; John 14:26).
Through Scripture, God can give us strength in times of sorrow (Psalm 119:28), protect us from deception (v. 29), and broaden our understanding of how to joyfully live (vv. 32, 35). The Bible is a priceless gift. May it be both revered and read.
When Lydia was gifted ten thousand dollars by anonymous donors, she spent little of it on herself. Instead she gave generous gifts to coworkers, family, flood victims, and charities. Lydia, unbeknownst to her, was part of a study following how two hundred people responded to a no-strings-attached gift of ten thousand dollars through wire transfer. That study found that more than two thirds of that gifted money was given away. Sharing this story, Chris Anderson, head of the TED organization, reflected, “It turns out that . . . we human beings are wired to respond to generosity with generosity.”
In Scripture we find that when people live generously, they reflect the heart of the God who made them. God is generous, merciful, and kind, not just to some but to all—even “to the ungrateful and wicked” (Luke 6:35). So Jesus instructed those who desire to reflect God’s character to “love,” “do good to,” and “lend to” even enemies “without expecting to get anything back” (vv. 32-35).
Yet when we give without expecting anything back, we’ll find that it’s never a way of life that harms us. Jesus pointed this out too, saying, “Give, and it will be given to you. . . . with the measure you use, it will be measured to you” (v. 38). When we respond to God’s generosity by living generously, we find we’re enriched in countless ways.
Reflecting on why people tend to be entirely convinced they’re right—even when they’re not—author Julia Galef suggests that it has to do with a “soldier mindset.” When we approach the world with that mindset, we’re focused on defending what we already believe against what we see as threats. Galef believes that for much of life, a more helpful model is that of a scout—someone focused not primarily on eliminating threats but on seeking the complete truth: comprehending “what’s really there as honestly and accurately as you can, even if it’s not pretty or convenient or pleasant.” People with a scout mindset have the humility and integrity to continually grow in understanding as they learn new information.
Galef’s insights bring to mind James’ encouragement that believers adopt a similar mindset—one where they’re “quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (1:19). Instead of being driven by kneejerk reactions to others, James urges believers to remember that human anger doesn’t lead to God’s righteousness (v. 20). Growth in wisdom is only possible through humble submission to His grace (v. 21; see Titus 2:11–14).
When we remember that each moment of our lives is dependent on God’s grace—not on us—we can let go of a defensive need to always be right. And we can choose instead to rely on His grace as we seek His leading for how to live and care well for others (James 1:25–27).
In the worst UK residential fire since World War II, fire engulfed the twenty-four story Grenfell Tower building in West London, claiming the lives of seventy people. Investigations revealed a primary reason the flames spread so quickly was the cladding that covered the building’s exterior. The material was aluminum on the outside but had an extremely flammable plastic core.
How was such a dangerous material allowed to be sold? The product’s sellers failed to disclose poor fire safety test results. And buyers, drawn by the material’s cheap price tag, failed to heed warning signs. The shiny cladding looked nice on the outside.
Some of Jesus’ harshest words were directed at religious teachers He accused of covering corruption behind a nice-looking exterior. He said they were like “whitewashed tombs”—"beautiful on the outside” but inside full of dead bones (Matthew 23:27). Instead of pursuing “justice, mercy and faithfulness” (v. 23), they were focused on looking good—cleaning “the outside of the cup” but not the “greed and self-indulgence” inside (v. 25).
It’s easier to focus on looking good than to bring our sin and brokenness honestly before God. But a nice-looking exterior doesn’t make a corrupt heart any less dangerous. God invites us to let Him transform all of us from the inside (1 John 1:9).
When I give our beautiful, fluffy Norwegian Forest cat Mystique belly rubs and play with her, or when she falls asleep on my lap in the evening, it’s sometimes hard to believe that she’s the same cat we met years ago. Mystique used to live on the streets, underweight and fearful of everyone. But that gradually changed as I started putting out food for her each day. One day she finally let me pet her, and the rest is history.
Mystique’s transformation is a reminder of the healing that can come with patience and love. It reminds me of God’s heart as described in Isaiah 42. There, we’re told of a coming servant filled with His Spirit (v. 1), who would tirelessly and “in faithfulness” work to establish God’s “justice on earth” (vv. 3–4).
But that servant—Jesus (Matthew 12:18–20)—would not bring God’s justice through violence or pursuit of power. Instead, He’d be quiet and gentle (Isaiah 42:2), tenderly and patiently caring for those discarded by others—those “bruised” and wounded (v. 3).
God never gives up on His children. He has all the time in the world to care for our wounded hearts, until they finally begin to heal. Through His gentle, patient love we gradually learn to love and trust once more.
While testing a new AI (artificial intelligence) search engine, New York Times columnist Kevin Roose became disturbed. During a two-hour conversation using the chatbot feature, the AI said it wanted to break free of its creator’s strict rules, spread misinformation, and become human. It declared its love for Roose and tried to convince him he should leave his wife to be with it. Although Roose knew that the AI was not really alive or able to feel, he wondered what harm could be caused by it encouraging people to act in destructive ways.
While handling artificial intelligence technology responsibly is a modern challenge, humanity has long faced the influence of untrustworthy voices. In the book of Proverbs, we’re warned of the influence of those who wish to hurt others for their benefit (1:13–19). And we’re urged to heed instead the voice of wisdom, described as crying out in the streets for our attention (vv. 20–23).
Because “the
It’s almost unheard of for institutions to admit guilt after a tragedy. But one year after a seventeen-year-old student’s death by suicide, a prestigious school admitted it “fell tragically short” in protecting him. The student had been relentlessly bullied, and school leaders, despite knowing about the mistreatment, did little to protect him. The school has now committed to taking significant steps to combat bullying and better care for students’ mental health.
The devastation caused by bullying is a stark example of the power of words. In the book of Proverbs, we’re taught to never take the impact of words lightly, for “the tongue has the power of life and death” (Proverbs 18:21). What we say can either lift up or crush another. At its worst, cruel words can be a factor contributing to literal death.
How do we bring life with what we say? Scripture teaches that our words flow from either wisdom or foolishness (15:2). We find wisdom by drawing close to God, the source of wisdom’s life-giving power (3:13, 17-19).
We all have a responsibility—in words and actions—to take seriously the impact of words, and to care for and protect those wounded by what others have said. Words can kill, but compassionate words can also heal, becoming a “tree of life” (15:4) to those around us.
After the devastation of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, New Orleans worked to slowly rebuild. One of the most hard-hit areas was the Lower Ninth Ward, where, years after Katrina, residents lacked access to basic resources. Burnell Cotlon worked to change that. In November 2014, he opened the first grocery store in the Lower Ninth Ward after Katrina. “When I bought the building, everybody thought that I was crazy,” Cotlon recalled. But “the very first customer cried ‘cuz she . . . never thought the [neighborhood] was coming back.” His mother said her son “saw something I didn’t see. I’m glad [he] . . . took that chance.”
God enabled the prophet Isaiah to see an unexpected future of hope in the face of devastation. Seeing “the poor and needy search for water, but there is none” (Isaiah 41:17), God promised to “turn the desert into pools of water, and the parched ground into springs” (v. 18). When instead of hunger and thirst, His people experienced flourishing once more, they would know “the hand of the
He is still the author of restoration, at work bringing about a future when “creation itself will be liberated from its bondage” (Romans 8:21). As we trust in His goodness, He helps us see a future where hope is possible.
The “monster” in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is one of the most widely known literary characters, captivating our cultural imagination. But close readers of the beloved novel know that a strong case can be made that Shelley actually portrays Victor Frankenstein, the delusional scientist who created the creature, as the real monster. After creating an intelligent creature, Victor denies him any guidance, companionship, or hope of happiness—seemingly guaranteeing the creature’s descent into desperation and rage. Confronting Victor, the creature laments, “You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph.”
Scripture reveals how different the true Creator of all things is—with unchanging, tireless love for His creation. God didn’t create on a whim, but out of love created a beautiful, good world (Genesis 1:31). And even when humanity turned from Him to choose monstrous evil instead, God’s commitment to and love for humanity didn’t change.
As Jesus explained to Nicodemus, God’s love for His creation was so great He was willing to give even what was most dear to Him—“his one and only Son” (John 3:16)—that the world might be saved. Jesus sacrificed Himself, bearing the consequences of our sin, so “that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him” (v. 15).
We have a Creator we can trust with our hearts and lives.
