This week, I met a new friend for dinner. While praying to bless the food, I said something along the lines of, “Lord, give us the courage to walk in your will.” When I finished, she asked me what I meant by asking for the courage to walk with the Lord. And I sort of paused, because it’s something I have been asking God a lot lately in my personal prayers. Have you ever been praying to God for something, and in your own mind the path from A to B is obvious? Have you ever mistaken that easy, obvious path as God’s will? Or maybe God closed the door on that route and left you feeling confused. Why would God tease us with something that seemed like an answer to prayer, only for it to pass right over us?

In 2014, back in the days before this website existed, God laid it on my heart to go on a mission trip to Africa. At the onset, I thought the obvious path was to go with a family friend that had an organization in Tanzania. That mission would consist of traveling in the African bush, visiting tribes and ministering to them over the course of about two or three weeks. There were months of planning, between figuring out what vaccines I’d need, supplies, putting my finances in order to fund it, and travel logistics. Finally, it came time to buy the plane tickets and try as I did, confirming a booking proved impossible. I’d have the tickets, pick my seat, enter my payment information, and submit, but for some reason each time I tried, the seat was no longer available. This happened several times with multiple airlines before my mom stepped in and voiced my own concern: Something wasn’t right.

As Christians, we know not to sin. That’s pretty obvious, and for the most part, maybe it’s easy to refrain from those big ones: murder, theft, adultery, gossip, etc. But what about those sins that seem little and insignificant? What about a complaining attitude? Sure, complaining seems like a harmless thing to do. After all, isn’t it bad to keep our feelings bottled up? Isn’t it healthy to vent? How does a little complaining hurt? To that I say, it’s not so much about venting. It’s about the habits that constant complaining naturally leads to. In all truth, if we truly lean on God and trust Him to keep us and provide for us, what do we have to complain for?

If you witnessed God parting the Red Sea and were a part of all the rejoicing and worship that happened immediately after, how long would it take for you to become desensitized to that experience? How long would it take for you to fall back into complacency, doubt, or an overall questioning of God’s timing, wisdom, plan, etc? A few weeks? A month? A year? Do you know how long it took Israel to go from triumphant praise at the awe-striking power and provision of God to grumbling and complaining over external hardship?

Have you ever stood in front of nature and been completely in awe of the awesomeness of God? For me, I was a teenager standing on the Maid of the Mist, a little boat that launches out of the New York side of Niagara Falls and sails into the horseshoe at the bottom of the falls. Standing at the bottom of this huge waterfall, water hurdling over the edge and crashing with such force into the river below that it ricochets into a hazy mist that drenches everything.

The devil is a roaring lion. He roars constantly. He roars during our persecutions. Asking why God would do what He’s doing? Why would He let us suffer in this way? Where is He? Has He forgotten you? He roars during times of uncertainty. How can God possibly work through this? Didn’t He say He loved you? Didn’t He claim nothing was impossible? Maybe that promise was for someone else. Not for you.

Service is so deeply important to the Christian lifestyle. It is something Jesus did, and so we are compelled to do it. He washed the feet of His disciples. He healed the sick. He taught the masses. He ministered to many. He discipled those who were meant to pick up where He left off when His work after the cross was done.

And He’s still working and serving us, a people who don’t deserve such tender care and affection.

When Sam and I were dating or newly married, whenever we went somewhere– be it a park, a concert, or an amusement park– Sam would without fail ask me to put his car keys in my purse. And then he’d ask me to hold his phone… and his wallet. It would always annoy me, because my bag would be brimming with someone else’s stuff. And Sam wasn’t the only person to do it. I’d have friends who would do it too. I guess it’s prone to happen when you’re the one in the group that always carries a bag. That bag was a safe place to keep those items people didn’t want to lose. And they would have been correct, because nothing was ever misplaced when it was in my bag.

Who read today’s key verse and made a double-take when Peter said, “For it is time for judgment to begin with God’s household?” Maybe that’s something that catches us off guard– that God would commence His judgment starting in His household, that is the family of God. But how many times do we pray a prayer that sounds like this: “Lord, let your move start with me. Let your change start with me. Let your kingdom come through me.” The truth is, a lot of the time, we ask God to start with us. If His kingdom is to be built on this earth, we want to be in on the ground floor. If He is going to shake things up and let His Holy Spirit move on earth, we want to ride that wave and experience it.

Love covers a multitude of sins. We love to quote that verse, but do we really live it? Do we really walk out the meaning of that in all we do, especially when we serve each other in the Church? The fact of the matter is, churches can be toxic. It’s something most churches love to ignore because they don’t want to own up or take responsibility for the fact that there are people out there walking around with some real emotional wounds inflicted by church people. It’s because as Christians, sometimes we forget that we’re supposed to be good stewards of God’s grace to us. We forget that we are supposed to be the example that God uses to draw others unto Him.

Imagine you have a huge debt. I’m talking six figures. Whatever it is– medical, educational, a mortgage– it is crushing and the interest rate on it means that you will be paying it off for the rest of your life. The payments on that debt are so high that you will have to work and work and work around the clock to try and make it. Forget about vacations, luxury items, and eating meals out. You’re just lucky to have food on your table. Everything you think about, do, and work towards seems to have that debt looming over it, shadowing everything. No hope, no relief, no peace.

When I’m angry at someone, the last thing I want to hear is that I need to be the bigger person. I think that’s a normal response to being told to take the high road when you’d rather slum it on the low one. And there will be times when it almost pains you to take the high road. Because the person that’s hurt you has hit you so close to home that your heart breaks. Or because someone you love or trusted is the one who did the damage.

Is Jesus precious to you? Don’t just knee-jerk answer that. Don’t just give it the answer you think makes you look good to other people. Really think. Do you value Jesus as precious every moment of every day? Do you treat him the way He deserves? Do you regard Him above all else in everything you do?

If you think about it, 1 Peter had to be a very revolutionary letter to the church. Peter, a jew and disciple of Jesus, repeatedly asserts how Christ’s work on the cross put Jews and Gentiles on the same playing field. Until the cross, there was a clear line between the two groups because the Jews were God’s chosen people under His covenant with Abraham. But Jesus’ spilt blood on the cross meant that not only Jews but Gentiles as well could be brought into the family of God and enjoy the same inheritance, grace, and spirituality that was reserved for Jews only up to that point.

I remember being 20 years old at a Friday night worship service. It was an all-are-welcome event, so we brought the youth up from the church basement to be a part of it. In the middle of a song, I felt a little tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see my Pastor, David Knapp, standing next to me. With a little smile on his face, he leaned down so I could hear him and said, “Do you think the youth band has a song they’d like to share?” At this point, we had a small youth band comprised of a handful of teens who were mostly self-taught in their instruments. Still, I nodded and he said, “I’ll let the team on the altar know that the youth are going to lead after the next song.”

vWhen babies are born, no one has to teach them to suck. It’s a natural instinct so deeply embedded in them that they can even do it from inside the womb. Towards the end of a pregnancy, babies are known to drink in amniotic fluid using that sucking mechanism. This way, when they’re born, they can go right to drinking milk from the mother. They don’t starve or have to wait days and days to figure out how to eat. They are born doing it. I knew all this in a clinical sense before I was a mother, but once my daughter was born, I marveled at God’s design. It is nothing short of a wonder that a child is born and instinctively knows that their mother, who they have only known from the inside and is all of a sudden an external presence to them, has milk to drink. And it’s even more of a wonder that that child’s little tummy is so small that only a few drops is enough to not only satisfy their hunger, but also to slowly grow that baby into a nourished child. Because at first, that’s all the mother makes– a few drops. It takes days before her milk fully comes in and months before it establishes.