by Pastor Joseph Cortes Hebrews 5:9, “And being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto them that obey him. Last Sunday, as I occasionally do, I listened to sermons from other preachers to get a sense of what is being taught. I chose a ministry, and while I’ll leave both the church and the speaker unnamed (he was not the pastor), what I heard was deeply troubling. At one point, he made the claim that Jesus was not perfect. That is not a minor theological slip; it is a serious doctrinal error that strikes at the heart of the Christian faith. So let’s address the question plainly: Was Jesus not perfect? Scripture could not be clearer—Jesus Christ was sinless, completely and without exception. Hebrews 4:15 states that He was tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin. First Peter 2:22 declares that He committed no sin, and 2 Corinthians 5:21 identifies Him as the One who knew no sin. These are not vague or symbolic claims; they are definitive statements about the nature of Christ. The confusion often arises from a misunderstanding of passages that use the word “perfect.” The Greek term teleios does not mean that Jesus was morally flawed and then became sinless; it means complete, fulfilled, or brought to its intended end. When Hebrews 5:9 says that Jesus was “made perfect,” it is not correcting a defect in Him but describing the completion of His mission through suffering and obedience. He was always morally perfect; what was “perfected” was His role as the Savior, fully accomplished through His obedience unto death. To suggest that Jesus was not perfect is not only to mishandle Scripture but to undermine the gospel itself. If Jesus were not sinless, He could not be the spotless Lamb of God. If He had sin, He would need a Savior Himself, and if He is not a perfect sacrifice, then there is no atonement, no redemption, and no hope. This is not a secondary issue—it is foundational. Jesus Christ is perfectly righteous, perfectly holy, and completely without sin, and anything less is not the Christ revealed in Scripture.

Learning to Rest Where Peace and Healing Are Found by Pastor Joseph Cortes “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.” This is Jehovah-Shalom—the Lord my Peace. And I have to be honest, because peace is something I know about, but not always something I consistently live in. There is always something happening—external pressures, internal thoughts, distractions pulling my attention in every direction. And if I’m not careful, those things begin to dominate my focus. But this verse reminds me that peace is not something I create—it’s something He leads me into. Notice that it says He makes me lie down. Sometimes I wouldn’t choose stillness on my own. Sometimes I keep pushing, keep striving, keep worrying. But He brings me to a place where I can rest, where the noise quiets, where I can remember again who He is. And then it says, “He restoreth my soul.” That’s Jehovah-Rophe—the Lord my Healer. And this hits deeper, because restoration starts on the inside. If my mind is consumed with fear, with everything going wrong, with everything I cannot control, then I lose that peace. But when I come back to Him—when I remember that He is my Shepherd and my Provider—He begins to restore what has been shaken. He brings my thoughts back into alignment. He heals what has been worn down. He renews what feels exhausted. This is not just about physical healing—it’s about the inner man, the place where everything begins. Then comes direction—“He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” That’s Jehovah-Tsidkenu—the Lord my Righteousness. And this is where I have to remind myself again—it’s not about my effort. It’s not about trying harder or doing more. It’s about following Him. Keeping my eyes on Jesus. Not on the chaos around me, not on the fear that tries to creep in, but on Him. Because when I follow Him, He leads me into what is right. He aligns me with the Father, not because of what I’ve earned, but because of who He is. And the more I stay focused on Him, the less power everything else has over me.

The Choice to Respond by Pastor Joseph Cortes Hearing always leads to a crossroads. It presents a decision—one that cannot be avoided indefinitely. You can step back, rationalize, and leave the matter to someone else, or you can step forward in faith, even when you stand alone. David stood at that very crossroads. He was surrounded by men who were more experienced, more trained, and more qualified for battle. These were soldiers—men who had faced conflict before. And yet, despite all their experience, they were immobilized by fear. They measured the size of the giant, the weight of his armor, the strength of his presence, and they concluded that he could not be defeated. David, however, measured something entirely different. He measured the situation against the character of God. Where others saw an unbeatable opponent, David saw a man who had defied the living God. Where others calculated risk, David remembered covenant. His perspective was not shaped by the visible, but by the eternal. And because of that, his response was entirely different. He asked a simple but profound question: Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God? This was not just a question—it was a declaration. It revealed how David saw the situation. It revealed what he valued. It revealed that his confidence was not in himself, but in God. This same dynamic exists today, though it often appears in a different form. The challenge is not always a physical giant standing in a valley. More often, it is the subtle, persistent distortion of truth within the church. It is the message that sounds close enough to truth to be accepted, but far enough from truth to mislead. It is the teaching that emphasizes comfort over conviction, acceptance over accuracy, and unity over truth. These voices are not always loud or aggressive. In fact, they are often appealing. They draw people in with eloquence, with charisma, with a mixture of truth and error that is difficult to discern without a firm foundation in the Word.

When You Hear the Voice by Pastor Joseph Cortes There are always voices rising in every generation—voices that demand attention, stir emotions, and attempt to shape the direction of people’s lives. Some come through political systems, others through cultural movements, and many through platforms that carry influence and persuasion. These voices often create urgency, convincing us that we must respond, that we must engage, that we must give our energy to the visible conflicts of the day. Yet beneath all of this noise, there is a quieter but far more significant battle taking place—one that is not fought in public arenas, but within the heart of the church itself. It is the battle over truth. It is the battle over the Gospel. While many are drawn into outward struggles, there remains a deeper calling for those who belong to Christ: to guard the simplicity and purity of the message of grace. For when grace is misunderstood, when repentance is redefined into something it was never meant to be, and when Scripture is handled loosely rather than rightly divided, the consequences are not temporary—they are eternal. This kind of distortion does not merely misinform; it misleads. It is in this light that the story of David becomes more than a familiar account—it becomes a mirror. In 1 Samuel 17, David was not searching for significance. He was not attempting to prove himself. He came in simple obedience, carrying food to his brothers, tending to what seemed like an ordinary responsibility. There was nothing outwardly remarkable about his arrival. But sometimes, the most defining moments in life come when we are simply walking in obedience. And then it happened. “And David heard them.” Those words mark a turning point—not just in the story, but in the heart of a man. David heard the voice of Goliath, a voice filled with arrogance, defiance, and open contempt for the living God. But what made this moment even more profound was not only what David heard—it was what he saw. He saw an entire army, God’s own people, standing in fear. For forty days, the same voice had echoed across the valley. For forty days, the same insults had been spoken. And for forty days, no one responded.

Slowing Down Enough to Truly See by Pastor Joseph Cortes When I open my Bible to Psalm 23, I have to intentionally slow myself down, because this is one of those passages that is so familiar it can easily become something I skim instead of something I truly absorb. Six verses—it doesn’t take long to read—but what I’ve come to realize is that it takes time to understand. There is more here than what sits on the surface. There is a remez—a hint beneath the words—that reveals something deeper about God’s nature, His character, and His promises toward me. And the more I sit with it, the more I begin to see that every line is pointing back to who He is for me, not just in theory, but in my everyday life. “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Right there, before anything else, I am introduced to Jehovah-Raah—the Lord my Shepherd. And I have to stop and ask myself, do I really understand what that means? A shepherd doesn’t just stand at a distance. A shepherd is involved. He feeds the flock, he watches over them, he protects them, he guards them, and when one goes astray, he goes after it. That means I am not left alone to figure things out. Even when I wander, even when I lose my way, He doesn’t abandon me—He pursues me. That alone should settle something deep inside of me. It means I am cared for in ways I don’t always see, and protected in ways I don’t always recognize. And then it continues—“I shall not want.” That’s where Jehovah-Jireh comes in—the Lord my Provider. And this is where I have to shift my thinking, because provision is not just about what I can see right now. It’s about what God has already prepared ahead of me. He is not reacting to my needs; He is already ahead of them. He knows what I will face before I ever get there, and He has already made provision for it—spiritually, physically, emotionally. When I truly take that in, it changes the way I approach uncertainty. I don’t have to live in fear of what’s coming next, because my Shepherd is also my Provider, and He is already there before I arrive. That realization alone can carry me, but the psalm continues to unfold even more of who He is.