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.
Finding Hope in Our Weakness
One of my favorite parts of the story of David is the cave of Adullam. I don't know why, but I've always been drawn to a place that became a refuge for the broken and distraught. So, naturally, I found a way to work it into my newest novel, Hope Reset. Here's a short excerpt from that chapter:
The merchant's arrival was just the beginning. More came in the following days. A farmer, his calloused hands empty of the crops Saul's men had seized. Three brothers, their eyes hollow with shame, fleeing debts they couldn't pay. Each carried a story of desperation, of having nowhere else to turn. Some had heard rumors in taverns, others from travelers on the road. All spoke of David's reputation for justice and mercy.
"In distress," Jesus spoke softly to Merlin. "In debt. In bitterness of soul. Watch how they come to him."
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.
The Poison of Jealousy
Jealousy is such a subtle enemy, isn’t it? It usually starts small—a quick comparison, a little resentment over someone else's success—and before you know it, it's poisoning your entire outlook.
We see this destructive process clearly in King Saul's life . The moment the people began praising David’s victories above the king's, Saul’s jealousy was ignited . This wasn’t just a passing irritation; the pride in his heart poisoned him, leading to violent paranoia and destructive schemes against David . Saul had everything—power, a crown, an army—but the poison of comparison destroyed his inner peace and corrupted his leadership.
Rejection or Divine Mercy?
Rejection hurts. Whether it's a professional setback, getting passed over for a job, or experiencing a personal falling-out, rejection often feels like a painful loss or a massive failure . Our first reaction is usually anger, sadness, or frustration.
David experienced a powerful rejection from the Philistine lords when they publicly refused to let him accompany them into battle . At the time, David probably felt humiliated. But later, after the tragic burning of Ziklag, David realized that rejection had been God's perfect protection . If he had been allowed to go to the battlefield with the Philistines, he would have been far away when his own family and community were raided and captured.