Category: Single Studies

Standalone posts exploring individual passages, ideas, questions, or themes that don’t belong to a larger series.

  • What Jesus Said. What Jesus Said. Compared to Today.

    What Jesus Said. What Jesus Said. Compared to Today.

    Before I ever believed any of this, I had a long list of questions. Jonah swallowed by a great fish. Really? Miracles, fallen angels, heaven, and hell – it all sounded like something from a storybook.

    But there was one thing I couldn’t shake off.

    A carpenter in a dusty corner of the Roman Empire told a dozen ordinary men that the message He was giving them would go out to the “uttermost part of the earth.” No internet, no phones, no email, no global postal system, and no social media campaigns. Just twelve confused men – and a promise.

    If I said in a canteen on site, “What I tell you twelve men is going to reach the four corners of the earth,” it wouldn’t make it past the lunch break. If it did, the story would be twisted beyond recognition by the time it got to the car park.

    A Modern Comparison Worth Thinking About.

    Today, with the entire internet at our fingertips, the most-followed person on any social platform is Cristiano Ronaldo — around 668 million followers, with every algorithm in the world pushing his face everywhere. Elon Musk sits on enormous platforms too. That’s what happens when you combine global media, smartphones, social networks, advertising, and a world obsessed with celebrities.

    And what do they get famous for?

    Kicking a ball.
    Posting a meme.
    Launching a car into space, allegedly.

    Nothing wrong with any of that, if that’s your thing, but let’s be honest — none of it is going to change the human heart or answer the biggest questions of life.

    Now compare that with Jesus.

    No internet.
    No cameras.
    No global media.
    No marketing budget.
    No private jets, PR teams, sponsorships, or stadium screens.

    Just a carpenter, twelve ordinary men, and a message.

    Ronaldo can reach 668 million people with a single photo because the entire digital world is built to amplify him.

    Jesus reached billions over two thousand years without any of it — and His words are still spreading today, without needing a single algorithm to help Him. If you gave Ronaldo, the entire internet and Jesus none of it…
    Jesus still wins by an ocean.
    And He said it would be that way long before His disciples even understood what He meant. Ronaldo has 668 million followers. Jesus has 2.3 billion today — without Instagram.

    What Did Jesus Actually Say?

    Jesus said things like this:

    “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations…” (Matthew 28:19)

    “Ye shall be witnesses unto me… unto the uttermost part of the earth.” (Acts 1:8)

    Two thousand years later, with all our modern tech and global platforms, no one has had the reach, staying power, and influence that this carpenter from Nazareth has had.

    When People Die.

    Normally when someone dies, their influence dies with them. Their friends remember them for a while, the story gets told once or twice, and then it fades.

    That’s not what happened with Jesus.

    The exact opposite happened. He was crucified, buried, and yet His words spread outwards like a shockwave that hasn’t stopped. Different empires have tried to stamp them out. Educated people have mocked them. False teachers have twisted them. But still, everywhere you go in the world, you find people reading, quoting, and living by the words of this carpenter.

    That was the thing that started to get under my skin. If His words really have reached the four corners of the earth just as He said – no technology, no PR, no TV, Internet, or  social media for thousands of years – then maybe I needed to stop being distracted for five minutes and actually listen to what He said.

    Not what religious people say about Him.
    Not what angry people on the internet say.

    Not the divided denominations, not middle-class congregations.
    Instead, listen to what Jesus Himself said.

    Why the Words of Jesus Still Matter.

    There’s something different about hearing a person speak for themselves. Many of us have heard the opinions, arguments, and complaints about Christianity, but surprisingly few have ever sat down and listened to Jesus’ actual words. And if what He said two thousand years ago is still shaping lives today – across cultures, languages, and continents – then maybe His voice deserves more than a passing glance.

    For seekers, this can feel risky. What if I get sucked into something I don’t believe? What if I can’t make sense of it? What if this whole thing is just a relic of childhood religion or cultural habit? Those are fair questions. They’re human questions. And they’re questions Jesus wasn’t afraid of. He never told people to switch off their minds or silence their doubts. He invited people to come close, to listen, to weigh what He said, and to see whether His words rang true.

    Believers, too, sometimes drift from the raw, simple power of Jesus’ teaching. We get tangled in rituals, debates, or the pressure to “have it all together.” Yet Jesus’ words cut through noise with a clarity that disarms both cynicism and pride. When He spoke, ordinary people leaned in. Some loved Him, some hated Him, some weren’t sure what to think. But no one shrugged.

    The Carpenter Who Spoke With Authority.

    When Jesus started speaking publicly, people noticed something unusual: He didn’t sound like anyone else. He didn’t quote endless authorities, build philosophical defences, or soften His claims. He spoke directly, personally, and with an authority that startled those listening.

    Even those who doubted Him couldn’t deny that something was happening. A movement formed, not because He built a brand or organised a strategy, but because His words met people where they were and cut straight to the heart. They still do. Words about forgiveness that feels impossible, hope that survives darkness, truth that doesn’t shift with culture, and a God who steps toward us, not away from us.

    And if He really rose from the dead – if His words were not simply good advice but God’s voice breaking into human history – then every one of us has something at stake in listening.

    Where This Series Begins.

    So that’s what this series is about.

    We’re going to walk through the words of Jesus – starting from the beginning of His public life – not as polished religion, but from the point of view of somebody who once thought, “How can any of this be true?”

    We’ll start where the Gospels start: with His baptism, His first public words, and the first time He begins to speak and tells people what God is really like, what’s wrong with us, and what He’s come to do about it.

    A Simple Invitation.

    If you’re curious, sceptical, hurt by church, or just unsure what to make of Jesus, you’re welcome to read along. You don’t have to agree with me. All I’d ask is this:

    Before you decide what to do with Christianity, take a serious look at what Jesus actually said.

    Because if a carpenter’s words really did travel to the ends of the earth without technology, campaigns – perhaps those words deserve a fresh hearing today.

    Part One coming soon.

    Leave a comment

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • The Restlessness That Points to Something More.

    The Restlessness That Points to Something More.

    Why there’s an audio version
    Some readers prefer to read at their own pace. Others (especially when eyesight, energy or health make reading harder) may find listening easier. So I’ve added an audio option—feel free to relax, sit back and listen, or carry on reading—whichever suits you best.

    The Restlessness That Points to Something More.

    Wonder begins early in life. As children, we asked questions with unguarded honesty—questions that cut beneath the surface of everyday life. We looked at the sky or the rhythm of the seasons and felt instinctively that the world was meaningful. We sensed intention, beauty, and purpose long before we could articulate any of it. The world felt alive.

    Yet growing up brings noise. Responsibilities tighten. Modern life hums relentlessly—emails, deadlines, notifications, expectations. Eventually those earlier questions fade into the background. They never truly vanish; they simply sink below the surface. Still, every now and then, something interrupts our pace—a quiet morning, a late-night drive, a moment when the world feels strangely still. And there, in the silence, the old questions rise again, as though patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

    These questions are not signs of weakness. They are, in many ways, a map leading us toward a deeper reality.

    How We Lost Our Shared Compass.

    Only a few generations ago, many in the Western world lived with a shared sense of orientation. Faith, community, tradition, and a belief in a higher purpose sat at the centre of daily life. People disagreed, yes, but most felt connected to something beyond themselves—something more stable than personal preference.

    Today that grounding has shifted. We are encouraged to craft our own identity, determine our own truth, and build our own meaning from scratch. The language is empowering, promising unlimited self-expression and total personal freedom. But this freedom comes with a hidden cost: if meaning comes only from within, then we must continually sustain it. We must invent it, protect it, and perform it.

    For many, this has not produced confidence but exhaustion. A quiet, unspoken hollowness sits just beneath the surface. The slogans of modern life promise liberation, but they leave us carrying the full weight of our own significance.

    The Quiet Experiment of Building Meaning Without God.

    Across the last century, something subtle happened. Society began an experiment—one many never consciously agreed to. Faith moved from public life to private life, then from private life to irrelevance. God shifted from the centre to the margins and, eventually, out of the picture altogether.

    At first, this shift felt like progress. But without God, the foundations that once supported identity, worth, love, dignity, and moral meaning grew thin. When the human heart loses any reference point beyond the self, everything becomes negotiable. Truth becomes personal. Purpose becomes fluid. Identity becomes fragile.

    And when life becomes difficult—as it inevitably does—self-constructed meaning begins to wobble. Hospital corridors, grief, loss, and loneliness often reveal the limitations of carefully curated self-defined purpose. In those moments, many discover an instinctive longing for something solid. Something transcendent. Something real enough to hold the weight of suffering.

    Why We Still Feel the Ache.

    Despite our technological comfort, our constant entertainment, and our unprecedented convenience, a quiet restlessness lingers in nearly every corner of modern life. Many describe a sense of spiritual depletion they cannot quite name. They change jobs, relationships, locations, habits, and online personas, yet the same unshakable ache returns.

    Perhaps that ache is not a malfunction. Perhaps it is a message.

    When we remove God from the centre, we inevitably place ourselves there—but the human heart was never built for that role. Most people, even in a secular age, continue to live as though love is real, justice is real, truth is real, beauty is real, and human dignity is real. Yet these realities sit uneasily within a worldview that insists everything is accidental and impersonal. Deep down, we sense that these things point beyond us. They whisper of a source.

    Why Our Deepest Questions Still Matter.

    We can distract ourselves for years—sometimes for decades—but we cannot outrun the deeper questions that come for us in quiet moments. If suffering exposes the limits of self-invented meaning, and if the ache of restlessness reveals a hunger that comfort cannot satisfy, then perhaps the assumptions of our age need re-examining.

    John 14:6 (ESV 2007) speaks with striking clarity:

    “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’”

    This is not an argument for nostalgia, nor is it a call to return to a past era as though it were golden. Rather, it is an invitation to consider whether removing God from the centre may have unintentionally removed the very foundation on which value, meaning, and hope rest.

    An Invitation to Look Again.

    You do not need certainty to begin exploring these questions. You do not need to call yourself religious or even know where you stand. You simply need to acknowledge that the stirrings inside you—the longings, doubts, and moments of wonder—may be pointing toward something more substantial than personal feeling.

    This is not a verdict on your life or a demand for instant belief. It is a simple invitation: look again. Consider the possibility that the restlessness within you is not an enemy to silence or suppress, but a signal. A signpost toward the One who made you.

    If God is real, then seeking Him is not a hobby or a side interest. It is the most important journey any person can take. And that journey often begins not with certainty, but with curiosity.

    What if the ache you feel is an echo of the One who calls you?
    What if meaning is not something we construct, but something we discover—something already woven into the fabric of reality?
    What if those quiet questions are not interruptions, but invitations?

    The restlessness may, in the end, be the door.

    Leave a comment

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • Which Story Do You Prefer?

    Which Story Do You Prefer?

    Life of Pi, God, and The Universe.

    At the end of Yann Martel’s breathtaking novel and film, Life of Pi, two Japanese officials sit by the hospital bed of a young man who has survived 227 days adrift in the Pacific Ocean. They have come to understand how the Tsimtsum, their company’s cargo ship, sank. Pi tells them an incredible story: a tale of sharing a lifeboat with a zebra, an orangutan, a hyena, and a magnificent Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. He speaks of carnivorous islands, transcendent storms, and a relationship of terrifying co-dependency with the great beast.

    The officials, unsurprisingly, do not believe him. Their faces are etched with polite disbelief. “We need a story that we can believe,” they say. So, Pi offers them another. A story without animals. In this version, the lifeboat carries Pi, his mother, the ship’s brutish cook, and an injured sailor. It is a grim, horrific account of human depravity—of murder, cannibalism, and desperation. It is a story of mere survival, stripped of all wonder.

    After a long silence, he looks at the men and asks a simple, profound question. “So, tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can’t prove the question either way, which story do you prefer?” The lead official, after a moment, quietly answers, “The one with the tiger. That’s the better story.” Pi looks at him, a gentle understanding in his eyes, and replies, “And so it is with God.”

    Story One: A Universe That Sings.

    This choice, presented in a quiet hospital room, is the fundamental choice we all face when we look out at the cosmos. We are presented with two grand narratives about where everything came from. The first is a story of intimate intention, the one found in the opening pages of Genesis. It doesn’t begin with a chaotic explosion, but with a divine word. “Let there be light.”

    In this account, the universe is not a cosmic accident; it is an intentional act of artistry. A Creator speaks reality into existence, separating darkness from light, waters from sky. The story builds with a poetic rhythm, and at the end of each creative day, a beautiful refrain echoes: “And God saw that it was good.” This is not the assessment of a detached engineer checking his work. It is the deep, resonant satisfaction of an artist beholding his masterpiece. Goodness and beauty are not happy by-products; they are woven into the very fabric of existence from the first moment.

    The climax of this story is not the formation of distant galaxies or blazing suns, but the creation of humanity. We are told we are made in God’s own image—Imago Dei. In this narrative, our existence is the point of the story. Our lives have inherent meaning because we were conceived in the mind of a loving Creator before the foundations of the world were laid. It is a story that tells us we belong here. It is a story that sings with purpose.

    Story Two: The Unceremonial Goodbye.

    The second story is the one told by modern naturalism. It begins not with a word, but with a singularity—an infinitely dense point that explodes in a Big Bang. It’s a story of magnificent scale, of forces and particles, of 13.8 billion years of cosmic evolution. It is, in its own way, a stunning account. But philosophically, it is the story of the hyena and the cook. It is a story of survival of the fittest, of a “blind, pitiless indifference.” It is a worldview that Pi was taught as a boy in the most brutal way imaginable.

    As the son of a zookeeper, the young, spiritually curious Pi saw a soul in the animals. He saw wonder. His rational father, Santosh, saw a dangerous naivety. To teach his son a lesson in cold, hard reality, he had a goat tied to the bars of the tiger’s cage and forced Pi to watch as Richard Parker tore it apart. As Pi reeled in horror, his father delivered the core tenet of this second story: “That tiger is not your friend! When you look into his eyes, you are seeing your own emotions reflected back at you. Nothing else.”

    This is the universe of pure naturalism in a single, visceral lesson. A universe without a soul, where any meaning we perceive is merely our own reflection staring back at us from a cold, empty reality. And for Pi, this lesson was proven in the most heartbreaking way possible at the end of his journey. After 227 days of shared ordeal, after surviving the impossible together, he collapses on a Mexican shore. The tiger, his companion in suffering, walks to the edge of the jungle, pauses, but doesn’t look back. He simply vanishes. “What hurts the most,” the older Pi tells the writer, “is not taking a moment to say goodbye.” It was unceremonial. In the end, Richard Parker was exactly what his father said he was: an animal. An uncaring force of nature.

    That is the universe of the Big Bang, beautifully and terribly illustrated. It may be awesome and powerful, but it feels nothing for you. It does not know you exist. The love you feel, the meaning you seek—these are, in this story, one-way projections. The universe travels with you for a time, but in the end, it walks into the jungle without a word.

    The Story That Haunts Us.

    So, we are left with a choice. One story gives us a universe that knows our name, crafted with love and infused with goodness. The other gives us a universe that came from nothing and cares for nothing. One story says beauty is a clue, a signpost pointing towards the divine Artist. The other says beauty is an evolutionary trick, a fleeting reflection of our own emotions. Pi’s story with the tiger is filled with unimaginable suffering, but it is never meaningless. God is always there, watching. Even when Pi feels abandoned, he later understands that God “gave me rest and gave me a sign to continue my journey.” The story of the cook is just suffering—brutal, pointless, and ugly.

    The story with the tiger—the story with God—doesn’t promise an easy life. It promises that the journey, with all its terrors and wonders, has a purpose. It promises that you are not alone in the boat. The other story promises nothing. Both require faith. It takes faith to believe in a loving Creator you cannot see. It also takes faith to believe that the intricate order of the cosmos and the deep consciousness within your own mind are the result of a random, unguided accident.

    So, which story do you prefer? The one taught by Santosh with a goat and a cage, confirmed by an unceremonial goodbye on a lonely beach? Or the one that whispers of a loving Creator, of a universe that sings, and of a beauty that is more than just a reflection of our own eyes?

    And so it is with God.

    5 responses to “Which Story Do You Prefer?”

    1. Christopher Francis Avatar
      Christopher Francis

      Hi Jo. You did a fantastic job with this post and I really enjoyed. The contrast between the stories we get to choose from are so stark and distinct it would seemingly make no sense for someone to choose Story 2. “This is not the assessment of a detached engineer checking his work. It is the deep, resonant satisfaction of an artist beholding his masterpiece. Goodness and beauty are not happy by-products; they are woven into the very fabric of existence from the first moment.” These statements are very well put. Great job.

      Reply
      1. Jo Blogs Avatar
        Jo Blogs

        Hi Christopher,

        Thank you for such a fantastic comment, I’m so glad you enjoyed the post! Please forgive the delay in my reply; I’ve been a bit distracted by the weather here and have only just logged in and seen your message.

        It’s wonderful to hear that the contrast between the two stories struck a chord. The inspiration for the piece came so suddenly. I saw the film was on a streaming deal, and as a long-time fan, I bought it and watched it again. Literally, the second the credits rolled, I knew I had to write about that final, profound choice. I rushed to my computer to get the notes down and wrote the post the very next morning.

        Thank you again for your kind words. Knowing that the content and the way it was written connected with you is incredibly encouraging. It means a lot!

        Jo

        Reply
        1. Christopher Francis Avatar
          Christopher Francis

          Good day Jo. No problem on the delayed reply. I have never seen the film but I may watch it soon if I can. Contrast is a great tool to use in writing when it is done well. I use it quite a bit myself, though maybe differently then the writer of the Life of Pi. Also, thanks for subscribing to my blog. I hope you enjoy my writing and it blesses you. Cheers.

        2. Jo Blogs Avatar
          Jo Blogs

          Hi Christopher. I tried twice to leave a comment on your poem Misery-Maker but GoDaddy’s firewall blocked it twice (normal connection and VPN).
          I just wanted to let you know in case the firewall settings need adjusting.
          The piece really spoke to me; I’d love to share my thoughts once it lets me through.

        3. Christopher Francis Avatar
          Christopher Francis

          Hi Jo. Thanks for reading. I had no idea the firewall was blocking comments. I apologize for your trouble. I am looking at it now and will you let know when I have fixed the problem. Regards.

    Leave a comment

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • Walking in the Truth: A Study of 2 John— Walking in Truth in a World of Lies

    Walking in the Truth: A Study of 2 John— Walking in Truth in a World of Lies

    Introduction.

    In our journey through the New Testament, we come across the brief yet profound letter of 2 John. This letter, though short, is rich in theological insights and practical applications for our daily walk with Christ. In this blog post, we will delve into the core theme of 2 John, which is “walking in the truth.” We will explore the essential biblical passage, the main teaching point, and the key elements that support this theme.
    The phrase “the dear lady” or “the elect lady” is found in 2 John 1:1 and is used to address the recipient of the letter and her household, with interpretations suggesting she might have been a literal woman or a symbolic reference to a local church. The author, identified as “the Elder,” expresses love for this “lady” and her children, emphasizing their shared belief in the truth of God’s word.

    The Core Theme: Walking in the Truth.

    The core theme of 2 John is encapsulated in the phrase “walking in the truth.” This theme is introduced in the opening verses of the letter, where the elder commends the chosen lady for the commitment to the truth. The truth, as defined in this context, is the gospel of Jesus Christ and the teachings that flow from it.

    Key Elements and Theological Truths.

    1. The Essential Biblical Passage: The letter begins with a greeting that emphasizes truth and love. The elder writes, “The elder to the chosen lady, whom I love in the truth—and not I only, but also all who know the truth—because of the truth, which lives in us and will be with us forever” (2 John 1:1-2). This passage sets the stage for the entire letter, highlighting the importance of truth in the life of a believer.
    2. The Main Teaching Point: The main teaching point of 2 John is the call to walk in the truth. The elder urges the recipients to continue in the teachings of Christ and to love one another. He writes, “And now, dear lady, I am not writing you a new command but one we have had from the beginning. I ask that we love one another. And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands” (2 John 1:5-6). This teaching underscores the inseparable connection between truth and love in the Christian life.
    3. Supporting Scripture Verses: The elder warns against deceivers who do not acknowledge Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh. He writes, “Many deceivers, who do not acknowledge Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh, have gone out into the world. Any such person is the deceiver and the antichrist” (2 John 1:7). This warning highlights the importance of holding fast to the truth and guarding against false teachings.
    4. Personal Stories and Analogies: The elder uses the analogy of walking to illustrate the Christian life. Just as walking requires continuous effort and direction, so does living in the truth. The elder’s personal concern for the recipients is evident in his desire to visit them and speak face-to-face, as he writes, “I have much to write to you, but I do not want to use paper and ink. Instead, I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete” (2 John 1:12).

    Expanding on Key Points.

    1. Truth and Love: The elder’s emphasis on truth and love is a reminder that our faith is not just about intellectual assent but also about practical living. Walking in the truth means living out the teachings of Christ in our daily interactions, showing love and obedience to God’s commands.
    2. Guarding Against Deception: The warning against deceivers is a call to vigilance. In a world where false teachings abound, it is crucial for believers to be grounded in the truth of the gospel. This involves not only knowing the truth but also living it out and being discerning about what we accept as true.
    3. The Importance of Community: The elder’s desire to visit the recipients and speak face-to-face underscores the importance of Christian fellowship. In-person interactions provide opportunities for mutual encouragement, accountability, and the deepening of relationships within the body of Christ.

    Conclusion.

    In conclusion, 2 John calls us to walk in the truth, a journey that involves both knowing and living out the teachings of Christ. This walk is characterized by love, obedience, and vigilance against deception. As we strive to live in the truth, let us remember the elder’s words and seek to embody the truth in our daily lives, fostering genuine relationships within our Christian community.

    Final Thought.

    Walking in the truth is not a solitary endeavour but a communal journey. Let us encourage one another to stay true to the gospel, love one another deeply, and remain vigilant against false teachings. In doing so, we will experience the joy and completeness that comes from living in the truth.

  • A Deep Dive into Christian Faith? From Emunah to Pistis.

    A Deep Dive into Christian Faith? From Emunah to Pistis.

    A Working Definition.

    Christian faith is not mere agreement that God exists. Scripture presents faith as confident trust in God’s character, actions, and promises, embraced now before all is visible. Hebrews 11:1 frames it as “assurance of things hoped for” and “conviction of things not seen”—not a blind leap, but a settled confidence grounded in God’s reliability.

    The Hebrew Core: Emunah as Steadfast Fidelity.

    In the Hebrew Bible, the idea behind faith begins with the root ’aman: to support, to make firm, to steady. From this comes emunah: steadfastness, fidelity, reliability. Exodus 17:12 uses it concretely when Moses’ hands are “steady” until sunset. Closely related is ’emet—truth as that which is stable and dependable. In this worldview, truth and faithfulness belong together. To call God “true” is to confess His unwavering fidelity; to have “faith” is to rest your weight on His proven steadiness.

    Abraham and the Pattern of Trust.

    Genesis 15:6 is the fountainhead: Abraham “believed” the Lord, and it was counted to him as righteousness. In Hebrew, the verb is from ’aman: Abraham regarded God’s promise as firm and entrusted himself to it. This is not abstract assent to ideas; it is relational reliance on the Faithful One. The prophets carry this forward. Habakkuk 2:4 declares that the righteous live by their emunah—their steadfast loyalty to God amid upheaval—mirroring God’s own faithfulness.

    From Hebrew to Greek: Why Pistis Matters.

    When the Scriptures were translated into Greek, emunah became pistis. Far from shrinking the concept, first-century pistis was a robust relational word used for trust, fidelity, and covenant loyalty—between rulers and citizens, generals and soldiers, husbands, and wives. In other words, pistis meant not just belief about someone, but faithfulness to someone. This is why the New Testament’s language of faith naturally carries the tones of allegiance, loyalty, and obedient trust.

    A Crucial Translation Turn: Habakkuk 2:4 in the LXX.

    The Greek Septuagint renders Habakkuk 2:4 in a way that accents God’s own faithfulness: “the righteous shall live by my faith[fulness].” The Hebrew stresses human steadfastness: the Greek emphasizes divine fidelity. The New Testament receives both lines: life comes from God’s covenant faithfulness and is embraced by our responsive trust. Paul will cite Habakkuk to proclaim that God’s righteousness is revealed “from faith to faith,” centering salvation on divine grace received through faith.

    Hebrews 11:1 Without the Fog.

    Hebrews uses two weighty terms. Hypostasis speaks of real substance or foundation; elenchos names proof or evidence. Faith treats God’s as-yet-unseen promises as present reality because His character and track record are the evidence. Faith is therefore not anti-evidence; it is sight by a truer light—the light of God’s Word and works—before final verification arrives.

    Jesus and Faith: Small Seed, Great Object.

    Jesus teaches that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. The emphasis falls not on the volume of our believing but on the trustworthiness of its object. Even small, real trust in the living God proves mighty because He is. In the Fourth Gospel, the accent intensifies: John avoids the noun “faith” and relentlessly uses the verb “believe,” portraying faith as an active, ongoing abiding in Christ—receiving, depending, obeying.

    Paul and the Gift That Isn’t a Work.

    Paul’s “justification by faith” is not an alternate system of human achievement. Faith is the antithesis of works-righteousness precisely because it is receptive trust in God’s saving action in Christ. By grace you are saved through faith—God’s initiative, not our performance. Faith looks outward to the crucified and risen Lord, receiving the righteousness God gives.

    “Faith in Christ” or “Faithfulness of Christ”?

    Paul’s phrase pistis Christou can mean “faith in Christ” or “faithfulness of Christ.” Theologically, both truths shine in the New Testament. Our salvation rests on Christ’s perfect covenant faithfulness—His obedient life unto death—and it is received by our faith in Him. Many translations choose one side for readability; the canon affirms the whole: Christ’s fidelity secures it; our trust receives it.

    James and Paul: Root and Fruit, Not Rivals.

    James insists that “faith without works is dead.” He is not contradicting Paul; he is exposing counterfeits. Paul denies that works can earn justification; James denies that a lifeless profession is saving. The root that justifies necessarily yields fruit. Where Christ truly dwells by faith, a new way of life appears—repentance, love, generosity, endurance, obedience. Works are not the price of salvation; they are its proof.

    Guardrails Against Counterfeits.

    Two distortions recur. One treats faith as a force that obligates God—believe hard enough and God must act. The other reduces faith to vague positivity that avoids repentance and obedience. Scripture rejects both. True faith submits to God’s wisdom, trusts His timing, and walks in His ways. Its centre is Christ Himself—not outcomes we prefer, experiences we crave, or reputations we build.

    What Faith Receives.

    Through faith we receive reconciliation with God, forgiveness of sins, adoption into His family, the indwelling Spirit, access with confidence, strength to endure, the ongoing renewal of our lives, and the promise of resurrection. These are not accessories; they are the relational riches of belonging to Christ. “This is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith,” because it unites us to the Overcomer.

    Growing a Steady Faith.

    Because faith is relational, it deepens as we know God. He grows our trust by His means of grace: hearing and meditating on Scripture, prayerful dependence, life with Christ’s people, and practiced obedience. Trials become laboratories where God proves faithful and teaches us to lean on Him. Walking by faith does not deny pain; it refuses to enthrone it.

    A Simple Summary.

    Christian faith is steadfast, active trust in the faithful God—grounded in His character, confirmed by His deeds, focused on Jesus Christ, empowered by the Spirit, and expressed in loyal obedience. It begins with God’s gracious initiative, receives salvation as a gift, and bears the fruit of a transformed life. It is not a leap into the dark but a step onto the solid ground God has already laid.

    An Invitation.

    If faith is confidence in God’s promises, the fitting response is to take Him at His word today: turn from self-reliance, receive the grace of Jesus, and walk in the obedience that faith produces. We do not deny what is seen; we deny it the final word. God’s faithfulness is the foundation—and He is worthy of our trust.

    If you’ve read this far—whether you’re curious, cautious, or already convinced—take Hebrews 11:1 personally: faith is “assurance” and “conviction” because its object is faithful. If you don’t yet believe, start where you are: ask Jesus to make Himself known, open the Scriptures, and take one honest step of trust today—He meets people in motion. And if you do believe, lift your eyes again from what is seen to what is promised; keep walking by faith, not by sight, and let love be the fruit. The God who cannot lie will not fail you.

    📚 Further Reading.

    1. Morgan, Teresa. Roman Faith and Christian Faith: Pistis and Fides in the Early Roman Empire and Early Churches. Cambridge University Press, 2015.
    2. Doggett, Frank. Faith and Loyalty: The Politics of Pístis in the Early Christian and Roman Contexts. Oxford University Press, 2018.
    3. Schreiner, Thomas R. Faith Alone: The Doctrine of Justification. Crossway, 2015.
    4. Kerr, Anthony N. The Temple of Christ: The Temple Theme in the Gospel of John. Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2008 — see especially the chapter on belief/trust in John’s Gospel.
    5. Wright, N. T. Paul and the Faithfulness of God. Fortress Press, 2013 — especially volumes 1 & 2 for detailed discussion of pistis Christou and faith in Pauline theology.
    6. These titles are offered for further exploration. They represent a mix of academic and accessible resources — no download files required; you can locate them via libraries, bookshops, or preview sites.