As a child in elementary school, I was always scared to read aloud in class. It wasn’t because I was a bad reader. In fact, I always read a bit faster than everyone else, skipping ahead to read a paragraph or two before the rest of the class. But even still, I was constantly nervous I would say something wrong or lose my place in the reading, and as a result, make a fool of myself if called on by the teacher.

It’s easy to get lost in this passage from Nehemiah 11 and 12, because it’s full of the names of people and places that are hard to read and even harder to pronounce. It’s also easy to acknowledge that there are a lot of names, decide they’re too difficult to pronounce, and then skip ahead to the more interesting part of the story.

But names are important. The names in this passage are the names of the priests who came back to live in Jerusalem. At the time, Jerusalem wasn’t exactly the hip, new place to live. It was dangerous to the point that the people had to cast lots to see who would go back and build their lives there. The names of these priests listed in Nehemiah 11 and 12 were the priests who took the risk, voluntarily or not, because the people moving to Jerusalem needed priests too.

These lists tell us more than just who these people were; they tell us where they came from, their history. There is a lot of interest nowadays in finding out more about your ancestry. You send in a sample of your DNA, and some laboratory sends you back a full report of your global ancestry. Human nature leans toward wanting more knowledge, more information, which is probably why these kinds of tests have become so popular. We just want to know what we want to know.

These lists of priests serve a similar purpose: to help future generations of priests know where they came from. When we know where we come from, it’s easier to know what we’re moving toward, to take a glimpse at the bigger picture. But our full understanding of where we come from lies in the knowledge and belief of this truth: Our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20).

Our most important family name is the one given to us as children of God. We are His sons and daughters, and He is our Father. We belong to Him. He is our ancestry. He is our past, present, and future. Our citizenship and our family name rests fully with Him, and Him alone.

Written by Ellen Taylor

That’s it. “No room.” My twenty seconds of fame. (Twenty might be generous.)

This follows the story I learned about Mary growing up: She was visited by an angel and told she would give birth to Jesus. She was afraid Joseph, her fiancé, would leave her, but he was then visited by an angel too! They traveled on a donkey to Bethlehem for a census, and while they were there, the time came for Mary to give birth. But there wasn’t anywhere for them to stay! (Time for my solo—“No room. No room.”) And so when Jesus was born, He was laid in a manger, a food trough for animals. He grew up, and that’s when the story really began.

For the most part, this was all I’d really learned about Mary. But one of the best parts of Mary’s story actually came at the very beginning, when she was first visited by the angel. When the angel told her she would be the mother of Jesus, God’s own Son, she was quick to question, ”How can this be, since I have not had sexual relations with a man?” (Luke 1:34). Mary was likely confused and concerned, given her engagement to Joseph, as any young woman would be upon receiving such news. But the angel counters her confusion and fear with a reminder of the power of the Lord her God. He told Mary that the child she was carrying would be called the Son of God. And then he reminded her of her cousin Elizabeth and the son she was carrying after years of infertility. Nothing is impossible with God.

Mary’s response to the angel is simple and powerful: “I am the Lord’s servant…May it happen to me as you have said” (Luke 1:38). Before Jesus was even born, His mother was committed to being a servant of the Lord. Even though her life was being turned upside down, her own plans disrupted, and her future with Joseph was unsure, one thing remained true: She was a servant of the Lord. And because she trusted in the Lord, she knew that His plans for her life were better than the ones she had herself.

In moments of uncertainty, when we’re told that something will likely turn our life upside down, we may try to cope with it by hanging on to whatever sense of control we think we have at that time. We try to keep a tight, white-knuckled grip on what we think we know to be best for us; those are easy reactions that offer a false sense of security. But Mary did the exact opposite—she let go. And with open hands she gave herself to God’s plan.

Scripture Reading: Isaiah 65:1-25, Isaiah 66:1-24, Romans 8:19-25, Revelation 21:1-4

It seems as if every day lately there is another story on the news to give me reason to long for new creation. Natural disasters, missing children, death and disease—all of it brings me to my knees in prayer, pleading with God for a world where suffering is no more. Isaiah 65–66 provides us with a picture of what that kind of new creation will look like—the Lord’s justice and compassion finally making all things new.

These chapters of Isaiah are not all rainbows and butterflies. Isaiah describes in detail how God’s justice will prevail over sin: “then the LORD’s power will be revealed to his servants, but he will show his wrath against his enemies” (Isaiah 66:14). But one of my favorite things about God is that He is both loving and just. He is not a vengeful God, punishing those who disobey Him just to spite them. He is so righteous and so just that He must act in accordance with that righteousness. He will not let the guilty go unpunished (Exodus 34:7), but He will look favorably on those who are humble and repentant (Isaiah 66:2). God is both things: just and compassionate.

The new creation described in Isaiah provides hope for us today. In places filled with worry and anxiety, the Lord will make peace flow like a river. Hearts that were once heavy with sadness and desperation will experience the fullness of joy. There will no longer be any weeping or crying, only the sound of praise to the Lord Most High. The troubles of the old world will be forgotten, and broken spirits will be made whole again. It is not just a renovation of earth as we know it but a complete renewal—a brand new creation where God dwells with his people.

There is no shortage of pain and suffering in our world today. I have experienced it in my own life, and I have seen it in the lives of those around me. In times of hardship, it can sometimes feel impossible to see beyond what is right in front of us. But Isaiah reminds us that the Lord knows all our works and thoughts; He is familiar with the innermost workings of our hearts. He will not leave us to wither away like the grass, but He will gather us and bring us home to Himself for us to see His glory. Thanks be to God for the joy promised to be restored to our souls.

Written by Ellen Taylor

Over the past six months or so, I have faced significant discouragement and uncertainty. At times I felt like a little kid lost in the grocery store, wandering up and down each aisle searching for my mom. The image found in Isaiah 40:11 of God as a gentle shepherd, protecting and leading His sheep, has had a profound impact on me as I’ve felt so lost. 

In chapters 40 and 41, the prophet Isaiah painted a picture of God as a faithful and comforting God. Not only was He with them in their time of exile, but He promised to also bring them out of it. Isaiah described in great detail all the ways in which the Israelites sinned and turned away from God. But in chapter 40, Isaiah reminded them of the comfort of the God they served. He said that Israel’s time of hard service was over and that her iniquity had been pardoned (Isaiah 40:2). God instructed Isaiah to speak tenderly to the Israelites. His voice was no longer condemning but comforting.

We all, like sheep, have gone astray. But in our wilderness wanderings, the God of all comfort and compassion has promised to gather us in His arms and lead us down the right path. Isaiah 40:11 says that God “gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them in the fold of his garment.” When God picks up His people and brings us back home to Him, He does not hold us at arms’ length. Carrying us in the fold of His garment implies a deeper, more intimate relationship. Just as a shepherd knows His sheep (John 10:14–15), God knows His people and desires for them to be close to Him. His promise to lead us gently reminds us that we can trust Him completely, even when the path ahead seems treacherous and unclear. Only when we fully surrender to the comfort and guidance of the Shepherd can we take hold of the promise that He will guide us.

Despite the hardships and uncertainties the Israelites faced, God comforted them with hope, reminding them that in His faithfulness He had a plan to redeem them from all their wrongdoing and bring them back into right relationship with Him. God’s comfort is not just a feeling to lean into during times of fear or uncertainty. His comfort is a reality grounded in the truth of who He is—our faithful, sovereign provider.

Written by Ellen Taylor

When Abram left Egypt, he took his nephew Lot with him. Along with Lot came his wife, his livestock, and all of his herdsmen. We don’t have an exact number of just how many people were traveling with Abram and Lot, but we can assume that it was quite a crowd—enough that the land couldn’t support them if they continued to travel together (Genesis 13:6). Not only were they having trouble with the logistics of traveling with so many people and keeping all the people and animals fed, there were also conflicts arising among the men in charge of Abram and Lot’s livestock. In the wake of disagreement, Abram made what was probably a tough, but necessary, decision. He told Lot that in order to keep their herdsmen from fighting, they needed to separate. 

God promised this land to Abram, but Abram extended the choice to Lot. And he didn’t offer a choice between the bad portions of the land; Abram offered him land in whichever direction Lot chose. Looking at Abram, I see that maybe he didn’t have to worry that he was being too generous because he understood that all the wealth of the promise came from God. It was Abram’s promise to receive, and it was also his treasure to share generously. 

And ultimately, it wasn’t his wealth to hold onto anyway. God had richly blessed Abram, and Abram followed in step by richly blessing another. Even after Lot left, God continued to reaffirm His promise to Abram: “for I will give you and your offspring forever all the land that you see” (Genesis 13:15). So Abram built an altar to God and continued to worship him, knowing that His promises are faithful and true.

Whether you live in the city that never sleeps, a sweet, sleepy suburb, or somewhere in between, rest can be hard to come by. In a culture where who you are is so often seen as dependent on what you do, we often run ourselves ragged trying to prove that we’re good enough. We push and push and push, striving for the next paycheck, the next promotion, or the next benchmark of what we think our lives should look like. When someone asks us how we’re doing, we say, “Busy, but good!” Busyness is seen as a sort of badge of honor. Add in holiday craziness to already jam-packed schedules and by January 1, we’re walking around with dazed looks on our faces, unsure what day of the week it is.

Our culture might promote this hustle lifestyle, but Christ calls us to a different way of living. He calls us to true rest. 

But the beauty of this rest is that it’s not something that we have to strive for. We’re not working for the weekends when it comes to the rest that Christ offers. Jesus says in Matthew 11, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” All we have to do to get this rest is simply come to Him. He gives us this rest because He is the rest for our souls. We find true rest when we find ourselves rooted and established in him. 

The rest provided to us in Christ gives us cause for joy, for celebration. We find joy in Christ’s rest because we finally can lay down the burdens we’ve been carrying and delight in His presence. We can dwell with Him in the house of the Lord. No more striving, no more running ourselves ragged. When we slow down and bask in his presence, we find that true rest isn’t dependent on our performance or persistence at all. It’s only dependent on the person of Jesus Christ. All we have to do is sit with Him.

In this passage, Paul was coming before the Father to ask that the church would be strengthened (Ephesians 3:14–16). Paul reminded the Ephesians of the immeasurable goodness that the Father had for them, and at the end, he closed with this: “Now to him who is able to do above and beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us—to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen” (vv.20–21).

What a beautiful prayer. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I can feel insecure that my prayers don’t sound as eloquent or “professional” as the ones I hear at church. I have had several friends in my life who I’ve always considered to be “good” at praying—and I haven’t ever put myself in that category. During a particularly difficult time in my life, all I could manage to get out while I was praying was, “God, please,” and “God, why?”

Sometimes, I didn’t even know what I was asking. But I knew that God knew, because His love for us surpasses our understanding of what love is. Paul was praying that the Ephesians would be able to “comprehend…what is the length and width, height and depth” of the love that God has for them. God loves His people so much that He was willing to sacrifice His Son for them, a love that surpasses knowledge or understanding (Ephesians 3:18–19). He forgives us of all our iniquities (Psalm 103:3), “as far as the east is from the west, so far he has removed our transgressions from us” (v.12).

All of our wordless prayers, all of our groans of pain and suffering and frustration, they are all held in His hands. Even when we are unsure of His love for us, even when we can’t feel it, even when He seems far away, He is there. And His love for us goes beyond our understanding. May we live our lives in such a way that glorifies Him, forever and ever.

In the days of the early Church, letters served an even greater purpose than they do now. Letters functioned similarly to recommendation letters written for employment or educational purposes; they were vouchers for people when they entered into new churches and new communities.

When I was applying for graduate school last spring, I toiled over choosing the professors and mentors who I would ask to write my recommendation letters. I wanted to make sure they had the best impression of me. I wanted to be confident I was worthy of their recommendation, that the letters they sent to admissions offices would include the best version of me I could present. And so I sent those professors my most stacked resume and the best version of my application essays. In short, I wanted to prove I was good enough—both to the people writing my recommendation letters and to the people who would read them.

When Paul tells the Corinthians that they are Christ’s living letters, he’s reminding them of their identity as the people of God. He’s reminding them of who they are, of their identity as the body of Christ. He’s reminding them that the Spirit of God has written the law of love on their hearts, fulfilling the old covenant and making way for a brand new one: the covenant they can be part of because of Christ Jesus. Our recommendations and our accolades don’t hold any weight in the new covenant because “our adequacy is from God” (2Corinthians 3:5). Our worth and our confidence are in Christ Jesus—not in ourselves nor in the things that are praised by others.

We, too, are welcome in this new covenant that gives us the ability to act in boldness and gives us life, hope, and freedom.

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul was making a case for the resurrection of the dead. Paul accused some of the Corinthians of saying there was no resurrection of the dead; that is, once Christians die, they would not be raised with Christ. Paul then argued that if they believed in the resurrection of Christ, then they must also believe in the resurrection of the dead. The point of Paul’s argument was to prove that Christians will be raised in resurrection with Christ. This passage is one that is read often at funerals and memorial services of loved ones who have passed away. It’s comforting to think about the resurrection in the face of death. It grounds us, reminds us of who we are and where our true home lies. His argument forces the Corinthians to come to the realization that there is, in fact, hope for the future for those who believe in Christ.

Paul’s argument to the Corinthians is fit for a trial court. He was making them decide whether or not they actually believe what they say they do. Paul reminded the Corinthians that “Christ died for our sins…that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures” (1Corinthians 15:3–4). Paul challenged the Corinthian church to remember what they said they believed, because if those things are not true, then all of their proclamations were in vain.

Today, let this passage remind you of the power and might of a God who sent His Son to die for us and raised Him on the third day so that we, too, might live with Him in eternal resurrection. We should put our faith and our hope in this God, the God who “raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavens” (Ephesians 2:6). Our citizenship does not belong here on earth but to the new heavens and new earth that come with the resurrection. Thanks be to God.

How many times have you said that sentence? Or heard it said to you by a trusted friend or advisor? Most of the time, our natural inclination is to try to stop people we love from making mistakes—especially when we feel like we can prevent them. 

In 1 Corinthians 10, Paul was employing a similar strategy to one you might have used on those you love before. But instead of telling the Corinthians to not make the mistakes he made (and trust me, Paul made plenty of mistakes. Remember, he actively persecuted followers of Jesus (Acts 8:1–3)), he was reminding them of the mistakes that the Israelites made throughout their history. Many of the people who made up the church in Corinth were Gentiles, meaning that they weren’t as familiar with the Israelites’ history as the Jewish people were. 

Paul used this opportunity to explain to the Corinthians what went wrong in the Israelites’ covenant with God in the Old Testament and how the Corinthians can avoid making the same mistakes they did. One of the most important warnings Paul gave the Corinthians in this chapter was against idolatry. Time and time again, the Israelites fell into the trap of worshiping things other than the Lord. Whether it was worshiping the golden calf while Moses was speaking with the Lord on Mount Sinai as recorded in Exodus or worshiping false gods during the time of the judges, the Israelites often turned their backs on God in favor of other, lesser things—things that could never satisfy them the way that faith in God did.

As Paul was writing to the Corinthians, it is clear they were in danger of walking that same path. The Corinthians were tempted to fall into sexual immorality, into idolatry, into living their days full of grumbling and complaining. But Paul reminded the Corinthians of what happened to the Israelites when they gave into these temptations: they were forced to wander in the wilderness instead of entering into the promised land (1Corinthians 10:5). 

Paul didn’t just tell the Corinthians to avoid idolatry or to do their best to not let it affect them; he told them to flee from idolatry. To run as fast as they could in the other direction. Running in the opposite direction of idolatry looks like surrendering their temptation to the Lord, doing everything “for the glory of God” (v.31). We, too, as modern-day believers, should learn from the Israelites. We have seen the consequences of turning away from God in their lives, and we should do everything we can to avoid making the same mistakes. Because of our human nature, we will fail sometimes. But when we entrust everything, truly everything, to the glory of God, we can’t really lose.