While reading John 20 today, something stood out to me that I had never noticed so deeply before. John records that Mary looked into the tomb and saw two angels sitting there, one at the head and one at the feet of where Jesus’ body had lain, with the space between them empty. At first glance, it seems like a simple detail. But then my mind went back to Exodus 25:17-22, the mercy seat on the Ark of the Covenant. Two cherubim, one at each end, with the mercy seat in the middle where the blood of sacrifice was sprinkled once a year for the sins of the people. The mercy seat was the place where mercy and justice met. The place of atonement. The place where God said, “There I will meet with you.” But it was always temporary. Year after year, sacrifice after sacrifice. Then comes the tomb. Two angels. One at the head. One at the feet. And the space in the middle empty. No body. No blood. Because the sacrifice had already been accepted. The mercy seat in Exodus was never the final reality. It was always pointing forward to Jesus. Hebrews tells us that under the old covenant the priests stood daily ministering because the work was never finished. But Jesus, after offering Himself once for all, sat down at the right hand of the Father. You only sit when the work is complete. The angels were sitting because redemption had been accomplished. The cross was enough. The grave was empty. The veil was torn. Access to the Father was opened. The empty space between the angels was not absence. It was a declaration. The mercy seat was a promise to come. The empty tomb was its proof.

In platinum mirrored halls of heavenly form, did I see in a sea of green—where invictus calms and breaks upon the face of each day. I bow my head in awe, yet see so plainly instead: why do you write your mouth across the mind of it with your horrors, and bind me to a grander scheme of rewards? Marshal Stokum

1 Kings 13:9“For so it was commanded me by the word of the Lord, saying, ‘You shall not eat bread, nor drink water, nor return by the same way you came.’” During my Bible reading in 1 Kings 13, I found myself asking: if the older man was truly a prophet of God, why would he lie to and deceive the younger prophet? If they both served God, wouldn’t you expect them to work together rather than against one another? The passage never fully explains the old prophet’s motives, but it makes me wonder if compromise had slowly settled into his heart. The younger prophet had boldly confronted King Jeroboam and delivered God’s word without fear, while the older prophet was living quietly in the middle of a spiritually corrupt place. Perhaps seeing wholehearted obedience in another man exposed the areas where he himself had grown comfortable. The younger prophet also failed. God had given him clear instructions:do not eat,do not drink,and do not return the same way. Yet he allowed another voice, even a prophetic one, to override what God had already spoken. The story becomes a warning that no human voice carries greater authority than the clear word of God. Still, what stands out most is the mercy of God in the middle of judgment. The lion killed the prophet, but it did not tear apart his body or attack the donkey. They simply stood there together as a sign that this was no ordinary attack. God’s judgment was precise, restrained, and purposeful. And even the older prophet, though compromised, was still used by God. Afterward he mourned the younger prophet, buried him in his own tomb, and recognised the seriousness of the word of the Lord. So what does this passage reveal about God? It shows that God is holy and takes obedience seriously.It shows that compromise can dull our courage and obedience without completely removing a calling.But it also shows that even in correction, God remains compassionate, patient, and merciful. Maybe one of the saddest warnings in the chapter is that it is possible to stay near the things of God while slowly becoming comfortable with compromise.

Someone posed an interesting question the other day: did Saul really have a choice on the road to Damascus when Jesus appeared to him? As Saul travelled, Jesus revealed Himself and said, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” Acts 9:5. It was a powerful and undeniable encounter. But it also made me think about Jeremiah 24:7, where God says: “I will give them a heart to know that I am the Lord.” I believe Saul recognised Jesus because God had already given him a heart that could recognise the truth when it stood before him. Saul was zealous for God, even though he was sincerely wrong. Yet when Jesus revealed Himself, something within Saul recognised the voice of the One he had truly been seeking all along. I think it is still the same today. You can share the love of God with many people, but not everyone will recognise Him as Lord. Two people can hear the same gospel message and respond completely differently. One heart softens and responds, while another remains hardened or indifferent. Jesus said: “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” John 10:27 That does not mean we stop sharing the gospel. It reminds us that salvation is ultimately the work of God in the human heart. We sow the seed, but God is the One who opens blind eyes and gives hearts that recognise Him. Saul’s story also gives hope for those we pray for. The church would never have expected a persecutor of Christians to become Paul the apostle. Yet God was already at work in ways nobody could see. Sometimes the people who seem furthest away are only one encounter with Jesus away from complete transformation.

When you feel like you don’t fit the “perfect Christian” mould? Lately, I’ve been thinking about how the modern church handles spiritual gifts, especially prophetic ones. Some people claim certain gifts are dead. Others imply that if you don’t look polished, speak eloquently, or fit a certain cultural expectation, God cannot use you. Because of this, many gifted people end up pushed to the fringes and overlooked. But when you look at Scripture, God rarely chose the polished insider. Moses had a stutter and lacked confidence. Elijah fell into deep despair and wanted to die. Jeremiah wept constantly and often isolated himself. Peter was impulsive. Paul carried weakness in his body. David came from the fields overlooked even by his own family. Yes, God calls us to holiness. But we must stop confusing human weakness with unrepentant sin. Having mental health struggles, a difficult personality, physical limitations, trauma, or a messy background does not automatically disqualify someone from being used by God. Holiness is not pretending to be flawless. It is a heart surrendered and set apart for Him. God has always used imperfect people who were willing to say yes. “If you feel overlooked or like you don’t fit the criteria, take heart. Your weakness is not a barrier to God. Very often, it is the exact place where His strength is revealed most clearly.” “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’” 2 Corinthians 12:9 “But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” 1 Corinthians 1:27 You are not discounted.