When Even Mary Was Distressed I’ve always been drawn to Luke 2:48 as a parent. Jesus was the perfect child, sinless, obedient, fully aligned with the Father’s will. And yet here we find Mary and Joseph overwhelmed with fear and distress. “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” Luke 2:48 That line comforts me more than it unsettles me. If Mary, the mother of Jesus, experienced anxiety, confusion, and fear in parenting, then maybe my moments of distress are not signs of failure, but signs of love. They had done nothing wrong. Jesus had done nothing sinful. And still, there was pain in the gap between understanding and trust. This verse reminds me that even faithful parents can feel lost at times. Even godly homes can have moments where questions outweigh clarity. Parenting is not a formula; it is a relationship, one that requires surrender as much as guidance. What stands out most is that Mary speaks honestly. She doesn’t hide her fear. She names it. And Jesus meets her there, not with rebellion, but with purpose. As a parent, I am learning that my role is not to control every outcome, but to walk faithfully, even when I don’t fully understand what God is doing in my child’s life. Trust doesn’t remove distress, but it gives it meaning. Lord, help me trust you with my children when I don’t understand your ways. When fear rises and answers feel distant, remind me that you are at work even in the waiting. Teach me to parent with faith, humility, and love, in Jesus Name, Amen.

For My Daughters: Following a Savior Who Sees Women As a father of three daughters, I often find myself reading the Gospels with fresh gratitude for the way Jesus treated women. Matthew 28:1 is a perfect example. In a world where women were often overlooked, silenced, or diminished, Jesus did something revolutionary. He saw them. He spoke to them publicly. He welcomed them as disciples. He received their devotion. He trusted them with responsibility. And at the resurrection, he entrusted women with the first announcement of hope the world would ever hear. Matthew tells us that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to the tomb at dawn. They were not sent as messengers because their culture approved of them. They were chosen because Jesus did. Jesus elevated women not by slogans, but by action. He restored dignity where it had been denied. He affirmed worth where it had been questioned. He showed that in God’s kingdom, value is not assigned by gender, race, status, or power, but by being made in the image of God. As a dad, that matters to me. It tells me that my daughters’ voices matter. Their faith matters. Their courage matters. Their calling matters. And the same Jesus who welcomed women to the center of his story still does today. The resurrection itself was first carried on the voices of women. That is not a footnote in the Gospel; it is a declaration of how God sees His daughters.

A question I was once asked in a pastor interview has stayed with me. They asked: “If someone came to you needing money, and all you had was your tithe, would you give it to the church or to the person in need?” I said, “To the person in need.” The room went quiet. That moment revealed something important: The difference between religion that protects systems and love that reflects Jesus. Jesus never treated money as sacred. He treated people as sacred. He healed on the Sabbath. He fed hungry crowds. He stopped for the wounded man in the road. He said, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” If someone is standing in front of me, hungry, afraid, or in crisis, they are not a distraction from worship; they are the place where worship happens. When we give to the hurting, we are not stealing from God. We are putting our offering into God’s hands. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for Me.” — Jesus Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop, see, and love the person right in front of us.

Matthew 25:46 “And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” In Matthew 25, people are not separated by what they claimed to believe, but by how their lives responded to Jesus. Those who truly knew him showed it in compassion. They fed the hungry, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and visited the forgotten not to earn salvation, but because grace had already changed them. Eternal life is not merely about living forever. It is about living in the presence of God, restored, healed, and whole. Eternal punishment, by contrast, is life cut off from him, the tragic outcome of rejecting the only source of life itself. This verse is not meant to make us fearful; it is meant to make us awake. It reminds us that our choices matter. Our love matters. Our response to Jesus matters. And the good news is this: the door to eternal life is still open. Christ still invites. Mercy is still offered. Grace is still available. Today is not just another day. It is a moment of invitation. Choose life. Lord Jesus, thank you for inviting me into real life, life with you. Wake my heart to what matters most. Let your grace shape how I love, how I serve, and how I live. Teach me to see others through your eyes and to respond to you with trust and obedience, in Jesus Name, Amen.

Who Is Really Taken? When I hear Jesus compare His coming to the days of Noah in Matthew24, it always makes me pause, not because of fear but because of clarity. In Noah’s day, who was taken away? Not the righteous. Not the faithful. Not the ones inside the ark. It was the wicked who were swept away by the flood. Jesus says his return will be “just like that.” So when he speaks of two in a field and two at a mill, one taken and one left, the natural question is not, “Who escapes?” but “Who is being removed?” If the pattern holds, then the ones “taken” are not being rescued; they are being taken in judgment. The ones who are left are the ones who remain to inherit what God has always promised: the renewed earth. This fits the larger story of Scripture. From Genesis to Revelation, God’s plan has never been to abandon the earth but to restore it. The meek inherit the earth. The righteous dwell in the land. God comes to make His dwelling with humanity, not to whisk humanity away from his creation. So the call to “stay awake” is not a call to escape the world. It is a call to live faithfully in it. It means refusing to be lulled to sleep by everyday life, eating, drinking, working, marrying, while ignoring God. It means building our lives as Noah did: on trust, obedience, and hope in God’s future. The hope of the gospel is not that we disappear from the world. It is that God makes all things new. And when he does, may we be among those who are still standing, still faithful, still here to receive what hehas promised.