Abiding in Christ
I've always been fascinated by Jesus' words in John 15:5: "I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing."
What does it truly mean to abide in Christ? It's far more than religious activity or spiritual box-ticking. Abiding is about maintaining a constant connection with Jesus, like a branch naturally draws life from the vine.
Think about it: branches don't strain to produce fruit. They simply stay connected to their life source. The branch doesn't wake up each morning with a to-do list: "Must make three grapes by noon!" No, fruit emerges organically when the branch remains attached to the vine.
Similarly, our spiritual fruit—love, joy, peace, patience, etc.—isn't manufactured through human effort.
Why We Want God’s Help But Not His Rule
My new book, Hope Reset, is a Christian historical fiction/fantasy novel that follows the legendary advisor Merlin as he embarks on an extraordinary journey through time alongside Jesus. In this story, Jesus guides Merlin through the life of David—the shepherd-warrior who became Israel's greatest king—to prepare him with the wisdom he'll need when he returns to Camelot to help Arthur become the king he's destined to be.
In one particularly powerful scene, Merlin witnesses young David serving under King Saul, who was, frankly, a wreck. Saul was plagued by deep paranoia and violent, unpredictable rages. David, renowned for his skill with the harp, would often play music that brought peace to the king's troubled mind. David had also saved Israel by defeating the giant Goliath.
But even though David was loyal and provided the king with both peace and protection, Saul's jealousy over David's popularity curdled into a murderous rage.
Bearing Burdens: Understanding the Galatians Paradox
Have you ever come across two verses in the Bible that seem to contradict each other and thought, "Wait a minute! What's going on here?" I certainly have! One such apparent contradiction appears in Galatians, where Paul seemingly gives us opposing instructions about burdens.
In Galatians 6:2, Paul tells us, "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ."
But just three verses later in Galatians 6:5, he states, "For every man shall bear his own burden."
So which is it, Paul? Are we supposed to help others with their burdens or let everyone carry their own? Is this a biblical blooper, or is there something deeper at play?
The answer lies in the original Greek text. When Paul wrote these passages, he used two different words for "burden," each with its own distinct meaning.
Fireworks Fright!
Last night, our neighbors decided to set off fireworks. It wasn't a holiday or celebration. They simply wanted to enjoy the colorful display. While their desire for entertainment was understandable, poor Tess was absolutely terrified. When I say terrified, I mean she vibrates so intensely that I genuinely fear she might shake apart into a million tiny pieces.
We were in the middle of dinner, with Tess strategically positioned nearby to catch any falling crumbs or tasty morsels. At the first loud bang, I gasped in surprise, and before I could blink, she bolted through the doggie door. By the time Jason and I slipped on our shoes and rushed outside, she had completely vanished. The only evidence of her desperate escape was a small, freshly dug hole beneath the front corner of the fence in the side yard, the spot farthest from the fireworks.
Are You Forgetting the Main Thing?
Jason's bowls tournament was approaching quickly, and my kitchen had transformed into what resembled a professional bakery. Every surface was dusted with flour, mixing bowls were stacked in the sink, and the sweet smell of baking filled our cottage. My husband had volunteered to handle all the refreshments for the event, bless him, which meant he had been baking all day. (By the way, he's a VERY good cook!)
I was in my office, fingers flying across the keyboard as I worked on my latest book, when I heard a groan from the kitchen that could only mean disaster.
"Oh, for crying out loud!"
The frustration in Jason's voice pulled me from my writing zone. I found him staring at a tray of unbaked scones, his flour-covered hands on his hips.
"What's wrong?"
He pointed at the offending dough. "I forgot the cheese."