Weekly Email Archive

Jesus is teaching us to look past the surface. Don’t be impressed by someone’s credentials, their charisma, their confidence, or their crowd size. Don’t be swayed by eloquent speeches or emotional appeals. Look at what they actually produce in people’s lives. Look at the fruit.

This isn’t about being paranoid or suspicious of everyone. Jesus isn’t calling us to become spiritual detectives, constantly questioning everyone’s motives. He’s doing something more important: he’s teaching us how to see clearly. He’s giving us a way to recognize what’s real and what’s counterfeit.

This week, I want to go deeper. When many of us hear Jesus’ invitation, we think, “Yes, I want that life.” But then Monday morning comes, and we’re right back on the wide road, making the same choices everyone else is making. The gap between what we want and how we actually live can feel overwhelming.

The wide road is appealing because it asks nothing of us. It says: Chase whatever feels good in the moment. Collect more stuff, more status, more likes. Protect yourself first. Keep your options open. Never commit too deeply to anything. It’s the path our culture celebrates, the one that feels natural because everyone around us is on it.

This isn’t about treating everyone exactly the same way—people have different needs, different personalities, different circumstances. It’s about letting your own experience of what it means to be human guide you in recognizing the humanity of others.

It’s the natural overflow of knowing you’re loved by a Father who gives good gifts. It’s what happens when people who’ve received generosity start living generously. It’s what happens when people who’ve been treated with patience start treating others with patience. It’s what happens when people who’ve been given grace start extending grace.

This changes how we interpret God’s answers to our prayers. When we ask and don’t receive what we expected, we often assume God is withholding good from us. We wonder if we did something wrong. We question whether he really cares. We start to believe that maybe we’re the exception to Jesus’ promise—everyone else who asks receives, but not us.

The phrase “how much more” is doing heavy lifting here. Jesus isn’t saying God is slightly better than human fathers. He’s saying there’s an infinite gap between even the best human parent and the perfect love of our heavenly Father. If broken people can love their children well, imagine how God loves his.

The promise isn’t that we’ll get everything we ask for in the form we imagine it. The promise is that we’ll never encounter a locked door when we come to our Father. We’ll never find him unavailable, uninterested, or unwilling to engage with us.

The person who’s constantly critical of others is often running from their own shame. The one who’s always pointing out others’ selfishness may be blind to their own self-centeredness. The one who judges others for being judgmental—well, the irony speaks for itself.

What would change if you approached this new year believing that, in Christ, you’re already loved, already accepted, already new? What would you try if you weren’t afraid of failing? What would you release if you weren’t trying to prove yourself? What would you embrace if you trusted that God’s already said yes to you?

“God became flesh for me.” Not for perfect people. Not for people who have it all together. For you, exactly as you are right now. Let that reality sink deeper than your stress. Let it matter more than your performance. Let it remind you that the God who entered our mess at Christmas is still entering your mess today.