Z 4 6

Over the past few weeks, I have been reflecting on the changing political landscape in Tamil Nadu and the growing excitement surrounding our newly elected Chief Minister. Much of that excitement has been driven by popularity, public image, and the enormous influence that comes from years in the film industry.

Whether he succeeds or fails remains to be seen. Time alone will tell.

But his election raises an important leadership question for all of us.

What makes a real leader—position or influence?

Position can be given overnight. Influence must be earned over time.

A title may place someone in an office, but it does not automatically place them in people's hearts. Authority can compel compliance, but influence inspires commitment. Position can make people listen; influence makes people believe.

Every generation longs for change. Today, many young people are looking for leaders who will address issues of employment, education, corruption, social harmony, opportunity, and hope for the future. They are not merely looking for a new face. They are looking for meaningful transformation.

The same is true in ministry.

A pastor may have a pulpit. A coordinator may have a designation. A leader may have a title. But none of these automatically create influence. Influence is built through character, consistency, competence, compassion, and credibility.

Jesus held no political office, commanded no army, and occupied no palace. Yet His influence continues to shape billions of lives two thousand years later.

As leaders, our goal should not be merely to seek positions. Our goal should be to become people whose lives influence others toward truth, excellence, and God's purposes.

The question is not, "What title do I hold?"

The better question is, "Whose life is different because of my influence?"

“Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.” — Micah 6:8

Recent developments such as the Maharashtra Freedom of Religion Bill have stirred strong emotions, deep anxieties, and serious questions among communities of faith. Laws framed in the name of “freedom” can sometimes create paradoxes—freedom claimed by some, fear experienced by others. In such moments, leadership is tested not by reaction, but by response.

As leaders, our calling is neither panic nor passivity, but principled presence. Scripture reminds us that justice, mercy, and humility must shape our public witness. The temptation in times of legal pressure is to respond with anger, fear, or retreat. Yet leadership anchored in Christ responds with wisdom, restraint, and courage.

First, leaders must respond with clarity of conscience. We must know what we believe, why we believe it, and how we practice it. The apostle Peter reminds us, “Always be prepared to give an answer… with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15). Our witness must remain lawful, transparent, and rooted in integrity.

Second, leaders must respond with courageous calmness. Fear spreads faster than facts. Rumors multiply faster than truth. A leader charts the course when others panic—an insight echoed in the principle that leadership is the ability to navigate uncertainty and chart direction wisely. Leaders must steady communities, educate them on rights and responsibilities, and resist inflammatory rhetoric.

Third, leaders must respond with community strengthening. Times of legal scrutiny demand deeper discipleship, stronger relationships, and visible acts of service. When communities demonstrate compassion, integrity, and lawful conduct, suspicion weakens and trust grows.

Ultimately, laws may shape the environment, but leaders shape the response. And it is the response that determines whether communities fracture in fear or flourish in faith.

Let us lead—not with noise, but with conviction. Not with hostility, but with holiness. Not with fear, but with faith.

The Four “Nothings” That Build a Leader’s Life

Scripture: Proverbs 16:3 – “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.”

Bobb Biehl’s wisdom captures something every leader, dreamer, and Kingdom builder instinctively knows: vision alone is not enough. Leadership requires an inner engine—something that energizes, clarifies, intensifies, and motivates us toward God-given purpose. These four “nothings” are timeless truths that shape the lives of those who want not only to start well, but to finish well.

“Nothing energizes like a dream.”

God-breathed dreams awaken the soul. Joseph’s dream sustained him through pits, prisons, and Pharaoh’s palace. A dream from God is like holy fuel—it keeps us going when the journey is long and the night is dark.

“Nothing clarifies like measurability.”

Faith is not vague. Jesus spoke of counting the cost (Luke 14:28). Measurability brings stewardship, focus, and accountability. It transforms aspiration into action.

“Nothing intensifies like reducing the time to the target.”

Scripture reminds us, “Teach us to number our days…” (Psalm 90:12). Urgency sharpens discipline. When timeframes shorten, commitment deepens.

“Nothing motivates like results.”

Results are not about pride—they are about witness. Jesus said, “By their fruit you will know them.” Fruit motivates. Progress encourages. Small victories multiply faith.

These are four “nothings” you can count on for the rest of your life. They reflect biblical principles of vision, stewardship, urgency, and fruitfulness. And behind them stands our covenant-keeping God who whispers, “Here to help you win.”

May we dream boldly, measure wisely, act urgently, and rejoice in the fruit He produces through us.

By Sam Stephens

“Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again.” — Ecclesiastes 11:1

I am writing this from a place where the Lord brought me 44 years ago. I was 27 years old and embarking on a journey on a lonely and unfamiliar path never tread before. Looking back on those formative years, I see a trail of God’s faithfulness woven through every step. It was not an easy journey. There were seasons of uncertainty and sacrifice, yet the hand of God was unmistakably present—guiding, providing, and shaping my path. What began as small acts of obedience, sown in faith, have now blossomed into fruit beyond measure.

First, God’s faithfulness anchored my soul when little else seemed certain. His promises became the compass that steadied my steps. Second, confidence in His call gave meaning to the unknown. Even when the way forward seemed blurred, the call of God was louder than my fears. Third, consistency, fervency, and perseverance were not natural strengths—they were forged in prayer, discipline, and dependence on Him. Finally, willingness to sacrifice became the altar upon which faith was refined.

As I reflect, my heart overflows with gratitude—for every person God has brought my way who has enriched my life and ministry. Friends, mentors, co-workers, partners, and even critics—all have been instruments in God’s hand, shaping my journey. I marvel at the countless miracles that have unfolded almost daily—quiet, tender, and often beyond comprehension—reminders that God’s mercies are new every morning.

And I thank Him, too, for the disappointments and discouragements. They were not setbacks but sacred classrooms where I learned resilience and dependence on God alone. In those moments, faith deepened, and trust became real.

Now, years later, I see the results. Seeds once cast upon uncertain waters have returned as waves of grace, provision, and fulfillment. A life entrusted to God is never wasted; it multiplies quietly under His timing and grows into a testimony of His enduring faithfulness.

I share this as life-lessons for the next generation. Keep sowing, even when you cannot see the harvest. God remembers.

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” – Psalm 127:1

Despite all the power and might, America lost its war against communism in Vietnam. On my recent visit to Củ Chi, I learnt a few principles for life, leadership, and missions that remain deeply relevant for us today. Yet as I walked through those narrow tunnels, I was also grieved by the memory of millions of precious lives lost in the conflict. It was a sobering reminder of the brokenness of humanity and the devastating cost of sin in our world. War magnifies human pride, fear, and violence — and its scars cry out for the peace only Christ can bring.

Beneath the rice fields, villagers carved out a hidden network that defied bombs and firepower. Scarcity birthed creativity, reminding us that God’s mission thrives not in abundance but in faith-filled obedience. The hidden tunnels sustained what seemed fragile aboveground, pointing us to prayer, fasting, and fellowship as the unseen lifelines of mission. What the enemy meant for destruction was redeemed, just as God transforms brokenness into beauty.

Their bamboo traps, simple yet effective, remind us of the Gospel’s clarity: Christ crucified and risen is still the power of God for salvation. Entire communities labored together; men, women, and youth shared the sacrifice, showing us that the mission of God requires every Believer.

At the heart of Củ Chi was passion for a cause greater than life itself. For us, that cause is the Gospel. The Church does not advance by wealth, structures, or strategies, but through resilience, adaptability, and a zeal rooted in Christ.

The tunnels whisper still: victory comes not by might, but through faith, perseverance, and vision.

By Sam Stephens

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1

Life carries with it both inevitabilities and seasons. Aging, loss, change, and mortality are realities none can escape. At the same time, life unfolds like nature’s rhythm—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—each with its unique purpose. Denying these truths leads only to fear and frustration, but embracing them under God’s sovereignty brings peace, wisdom, and hope.

Facing the Inevitable

Many live as though life’s hard certainties will never touch them. We deny aging, try to escape grief, and avoid thinking of death. Yet Scripture calls us to acceptance. Numbering our days is not morbid—it is liberating. It frees us from clinging to control and teaches us to steward time, relationships, and resources with intentionality. When we surrender to God’s care, even pain and loss can be harnessed as instruments of growth, pointing us to eternity.

Embracing the Seasons

Just as no tree resists the turning of leaves, no life can hold on to one season forever. Spring comes with fresh beginnings, vision, and sowing seeds of faith. Summer is marked by fruitfulness, responsibilities, and influence. Autumn brings transitions, the letting go of what is temporary, and the harvesting of lessons. Winter may feel barren, but it is a time of rest, pruning, and deep trust in God’s unseen work. Leaders especially must discern the times—for themselves and for those they guide—knowing that forcing one season upon another leads only to frustration.

Harnessing Wisdom

The path to peace is not in resisting life’s rhythms, but in walking faithfully through them. Inevitabilities remind us of our limits; seasons remind us of God’s timing. Together they teach humility, gratitude, and resilience. Leaders who acknowledge life’s brevity while embracing its seasons can guide others with courage, realism, and hope.

When we stop running from the inevitable and learn to welcome the seasons, we find not despair but meaning. Every ending holds the seed of a beginning, every limitation an invitation to trust God more deeply. Life’s realities, under His hand, are not threats but teachers.

So let us live wisely—accepting the inevitable, embracing the seasons, and preparing our hearts for eternity.

UNTIL THE NEXT . . .

Colossians 1:9–12

Leadership in ministry is not for the faint of heart. The weight of responsibility, the demands of people, and the unpredictability of circumstances can leave even the strongest leader weary. Yet Paul’s prayer for the Colossians points us to the essence of Christian leadership: to “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord.” This is not a call to perfection, but to a journey marked by three qualities vital for leaders today.

1. The Pleasing Walk (vv. 9–10)

Leaders are called to root their vision and decisions in God’s will, not personal ambition. Paul prays that leaders be filled with wisdom and understanding, ensuring that our leadership reflects Christ’s character. Pleasing the Lord means bearing fruit that lasts—through service, sacrifice, and faithful obedience. Leaders must ask: Is my leadership aligned to please God, or merely to satisfy expectations?

2. The Enduring Walk (v. 11)

Leadership often feels like carrying weight few others see. Paul reminds us that endurance comes not from charisma or skill, but from God’s “glorious might.” Endurance helps us stay steady under pressure; patience keeps us gracious with people who may resist or misunderstand us. Enduring leadership is not about quick wins—it is faithfulness over time.

3. The Joyful Walk (v. 12)

Joy may seem elusive amid criticism, conflict, and sacrifice. Yet leaders are sustained by gratitude, knowing that God has already qualified us to share in His eternal inheritance. Joy becomes a powerful testimony: when leaders rejoice in hardship, they remind the world that the Gospel is real and unshakeable.

Christian leadership must be a walk that pleases, endures, and rejoices. In doing so, we reflect Christ, strengthen His Church, and lead others with integrity and hope.

“He…said to them, ‘Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem…’” – Luke 18:31

For the Christian leader, life is not a random journey of personal ambition but a purposeful ascent toward God’s calling. Jesus’ words in Luke 18:31 are more than a travel notice—they reflect the unwavering pursuit of His Father’s will. Jerusalem was not just a destination for Jesus; it was the culmination of His mission, the place where divine purpose and personal surrender converged.

Jesus lived with one compelling focus: “I do not seek My own will but the will of the Father who sent Me” (John 5:30). That singular devotion shaped every choice, every step, every sacrifice. He “steadfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51), undeterred by obstacles or distractions.

Christian leadership, likewise, is not about fulfilling personal dreams but aligning with God’s greater purpose. “You did not choose Me, but I chose you…” (John 15:16). We are called—not consulted. We are chosen—not for our plans, but for His. Our ambitions must surrender to His direction. We may not always see the full picture, and God’s path may seem unclear or even counterintuitive. Yet, the journey is not aimless—it is a divine appointment.

Often, God “takes us aside” (Luke 18:31), interrupting our plans to refocus us on His. What we see as detours are His design. The tasks we complete may fade, but what remains is the enduring impact of living in step with God’s compelling purpose.

Let us, like Christ, set our faces toward Jerusalem—not for our glory, but for the fulfillment of His will through our surrendered leadership.

UNTIL THE NEXT . . .

An Essay Inspired by E. Stanley Jones

In a world fragmented by ideologies, fractured identities, and social upheaval, the question posed by a medical student to E. Stanley Jones—“Is religion natural?”—resonates with contemporary fears. The modern mind, shaped by scientific rationalism and sceptical of institutional religion, fears that faith is somehow a relic of superstition, a psychological crutch, or worse, an imposition upon authentic human freedom. Yet Jones responds not with argument, but with testimony—a deeply experiential affirmation of Tertullian’s ancient claim: “The soul is naturally Christian.” His insight offers a compelling lens through which to understand religion in our present context, not as an external structure but as the internal reorientation of life toward its true centre.

I. The Disorientation of Modern Life

Contemporary society, in its pursuit of autonomy, technological advancement, and consumer satisfaction, has become “eccentric”—off-centre. Jones uses the powerful metaphor of a great flywheel shaking itself and its surroundings to pieces when misaligned from its centre. This image aptly captures the tremors of our age: environmental collapse, mental health crises, identity confusion, and the loss of shared moral vision. At the root of these disintegrations lies the substitution of the self, the market, or the state for the true centre of life. In displacing the Divine, modern society has untethered itself from the grounding rhythm of reality, and in doing so, has lost coherence.

This critique is not new. Blaise Pascal observed, “There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing but only by God the Creator.” This existential void surfaces in the profound sense of alienation and restlessness that plagues contemporary life. In such a state, religion is not unnatural; rather, irreligion is the anomaly—a rupture in the soul’s intended harmony.

II. Religion as Re-Centring

Jones asserts that obedience to Christ results in a profound sense of “being at home,” of feeling “universalized and adjusted.” This experience is not private escapism, but a radical realignment of one’s life with the moral and spiritual fabric of the universe. Far from being unnatural, faith becomes the act of returning to what is most natural—our created purpose. Augustine’s oft-quoted words capture this: “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

The process of re-centring, however, creates inevitable friction with a disordered world. The values of the Kingdom—self-sacrifice, humility, peacemaking, forgiveness—are alien to societies driven by consumption, pride, and vengeance. Thus, the follower of Christ is perceived as “strange.” But Jones asks an incisive question: Is it not society that is strange and unnatural? If the world’s trajectory is self-destruction, then the Christian, though counter-cultural, is the one living in alignment with reality.

III. Christ as the Sanity of the World

In the figure of Christ, Jones finds the only “sanity” in a world that has lost its bearings. Christ stands as the axis upon which the wheel of human existence can turn without disintegration. His life exhibits an uncanny poise, a moral clarity, and a transcendent compassion that remains unmatched. He is at home among the poor and the powerful, offering both critique and healing. In contrast to the madness of empire, war, and greed, He represents the sanity of sacrificial love and divine order.

The paradox of Christ’s life is this: He was judged by the standards of the world to be insane (Mark 3:21), yet He alone lived in perfect alignment with the will of God and the structure of creation. As G.K. Chesterton aptly wrote, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.” Christ’s sanity was revolutionary because it re-centered humanity not on power but on love, not on self but on the Father.

IV. Implications for the Present

Religion, then, in its truest form, is not mere ritual or institutional formality. It is the re-centering of the human soul on Christ, the re-integration of the person with the purposes of God. In a disordered world, religion is the rhythm of sanity. Far from being unnatural, it is the recovery of nature’s design.

This has practical implications for education, ethics, governance, and culture. If the soul is naturally oriented to Christ, then human flourishing—true education, true justice, true freedom—can only emerge when aligned with the values of the Kingdom. Where religion is dismissed or distorted, societies become eccentric, revolving around transient ideologies or materialist aims, and the result is breakdown.

Conclusion

E. Stanley Jones reminds us that obedience to Christ is not a denial of our humanity but its fulfillment. The disobedient soul is “orphaned,” adrift in a cosmos it does not understand. But the soul attuned to Christ is naturalized—at home, whole, and harmonious. In the present context, the greatest need is not more religion as institution, but more religion as re-centering: life aligned with its true center, which is Christ. In Him, we recover not only our faith, but our sanity.

Bibliography

E. Stanley Jones, Christ of the Indian Road. Abingdon Press, 1925.

Tertullian, Apologeticus. Translated by T.R. Glover, Loeb Classical Library, 1931.

Blaise Pascal, Pensées. Translated by A.J. Krailsheimer, Penguin Classics, 1995.

Augustine of Hippo, Confessions. Translated by Henry Chadwick, Oxford University Press, 1991.

“Leave your simple ways and you will live; walk in the way of insight.” – Proverbs 9:6 (NIV)

Leadership today is not just about talent or title—it is about trajectory. And Proverbs 9:6 offers a sharp challenge: "Leave your simple ways and you will live; walk in the way of insight." In a world that often celebrates surface-level charisma and shortcut solutions, this verse calls emerging leaders to leave behind the path of ease and embrace the deeper, often harder, journey of wisdom and discernment.

The “simple way” is attractive—easy decisions, quick gains, and crowd approval. But it often leads to stagnation, even destruction. The way of insight, by contrast, demands self-reflection, discipline, and Spirit-led discernment. It invites leaders to grow through learning, to lead with vision not impulse, and to ground their lives in the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom.

Next gen leaders are forming in an age of information overload but insight scarcity. Leadership in such a time must be rooted in spiritual wisdom, cultivated in sacred silence, sharpened in community, and applied in real-world contexts. Proverbs reminds us that true life—abundant, impactful, eternal—flows from walking in insight.

The future belongs to those who reject the shallow and embrace the substantial. God is raising leaders who do not simply follow trends but set them—who move from simplicity to spiritual insight.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” – Romans 12:2

Change is inevitable—but how we approach it reveals the strength of our leadership and the depth of our discipleship. The Bible never calls us to passive adaptation, but to intentional transformation. Change is not always right or wrong in itself—it gains value by the direction it takes us. Proverbs 14:12 warns, “There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.” Not all change is progress; and not all resistance is wisdom.

Secondly, change is hard. Romans 8:7 reminds us that the flesh resists anything that brings us closer to God. The pursuit of comfort can be the greatest enemy of spiritual and leadership growth. True change begins with surrender and is sustained by the Spirit.

Third, people fear change because it shakes their sense of security. But Proverbs 3:5 calls us to “trust in the Lord… and lean not on our own understanding.” When our security is rooted in the unchanging character of God, we can embrace change with peace, not panic.

Finally, biblical success demands growth—and growth demands change. Ephesians 4:15 urges us to “grow… into Him who is the Head, Christ.” Maturity is not optional. The seed must break for the tree to rise.

Change is not your enemy—it is God’s instrument of formation. Leaders must discern its direction, embrace its challenge, and let it mold them into Christlike vessels.

“Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.” -Mark 8:25

Sometimes healing comes in layers. In Mark 8, Jesus touches a blind man twice—once to open his eyes, and again to restore full vision. It is a striking reminder that spiritual clarity is not always instant. We may be opened to truth, but not yet fully transformed. It takes the second touch.

The first touch opened the man’s eyes, but he saw “people like trees walking.” Blurred. Confused. Partial. Many of us live in that in-between—seeing, but not clearly. We begin the journey of faith, but fears cloud our path. We understand God’s love, but struggle to apply it. We believe, yet we wrestle with doubt.

But Jesus does not leave us in the blur. He touches again. That second touch restores and clarifies. The man now sees “everything clearly.” In Greek, the word used denotes sharp, defined sight—no more confusion, no more guessing. This is the vision we need: not only to see life, but to see it as God sees.

Leaders too must seek the second touch—clarity of purpose, restored vision, and divine perspective. In this age of noise, half-truths, and distraction, we cannot settle for partial sight.

Let us pray for the second touch of Christ—not just to open our eyes, but to make our vision whole, clear, and Kingdom-focused.

By Sam Stephens

“Lord, there is no one like you to help the powerless against the mighty.” – 2 Chronicles 14:11a

Leadership often exposes our vulnerability. There are moments when strategy fails, resources run dry, and even our strongest allies cannot rescue us. Asa, the king of Judah, knew this reality. Confronted by a vastly superior enemy, he turned not to his military might but to the Lord—acknowledging the painful truth of his powerlessness and the unmatched power of God.

It is in this posture of humility that true spiritual leadership is formed. Asa’s prayer is not just a cry for help—it is a declaration of faith. He recognizes a vital truth: God alone helps the powerless against the mighty. When we surrender our illusion of control and call upon God, we exchange fear for faith, anxiety for assurance.

This scripture reminds us that divine help does not require human strength. In fact, God’s power is made perfect in our weakness. Whether leading organizations, families, or ministries, we must resist the urge to depend on our capabilities and instead rely wholly on God’s sufficiency.

Asa’s victory was not won by sword but by surrender. And ours will be too. Let us lead with the courage that comes from confidence in God, not ourselves. For when we are outnumbered and overwhelmed, the Lord remains unmatched—our Helper, Defender, and Strength.

By Sam Stephens

We live in an age where balance feels like a chase. We run after it—juggling our work, family, faith, and dreams—only to find ourselves breathless and broken. But Scripture paints a very different picture. Balance is not something we chase—it is something we build. And like any strong structure, it requires a solid foundation.

“Everyone who comes to Me and hears My words and puts them into practice… is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock.” – Luke 6:47–48

This Rock is Christ Himself. His covenant is not a quick fix or a motivational mantra. It is a long-term relationship, built on grace, shaped through obedience, and sustained by trust. When we remain anchored in God’s covenant, balance is no longer a moving target. It becomes a steady construction—brick by brick—through spiritual disciplines, relational integrity, wise stewardship, and restful surrender.

Chasing balance exhausts us. Building balance shapes us.

The difference lies in posture: the anxious grip of self-reliance versus the surrendered strength of faith. A covenant life does not promise ease, but it promises anchoring. And from that place of anchoring, a purposeful and whole life rises.

Let us stop striving to catch balance. Instead, let us lay it down one obedient step at a time, on the unwavering foundation of God’s covenant love.

UNTIL THE NEXT . . .

"Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation." — Joel 1:3

On this Father’s Day, we pause not merely to celebrate biology, but to honour the sacred calling of fatherhood—a divine trust grounded in both privilege and responsibility. The Apostle Paul, though unmarried and without biological children, embraced spiritual fatherhood with depth and conviction. His letters to Timothy, Titus, and the Corinthian church reveal a model of fatherhood shaped not by dominance, but by discipleship.

Paul understood that fatherhood involves more than provision—it demands presence, example, and exhortation. “For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children,” he wrote, “encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God” (1 Thessalonians 2:11–12). True fatherhood nurtures, guides, and corrects with love and purpose.

In a culture that often reduces fatherhood to a role or function, Paul reminds us that it is a vocation—a spiritual responsibility to reflect God’s heart. We are watching a generation rise up without role models, without anchors, and without values. The absence of fathers—physical, emotional, and spiritual—has left a deep wound.

The Apostle Paul steps into this void with a striking declaration: “I became your father in Christ Jesus.” He was not speaking as a biological parent, but as a spiritual one—present, committed, and invested. This is the kind of fatherhood our world needs: not just providers, but protectors of values, mentors of faith, and models of integrity.

We live in a time when screens are louder than voices at the dinner table, and trends teach more than truth. In such a time, the role of fathers—and spiritual fathers—becomes even more critical. Young hearts need someone to say, “Imitate me, as I imitate Christ.”

Fathers are links in a divine chain. Our calling is to remember, retell, and relay the truth of God to future generations. Let us not drop the baton. Let us tell our children—not just once, but again and again—so they, too, may rise and carry the flame. Tony Evans once said, “A godly father is not perfect, but he is present, purposeful, and pursuing God's best for his family.”

The next generation is not just looking—they are longing. May today be a recommitment to that holy calling, for all fathers, spiritual and biological.

UNTIL THE NEXT . . .

My deepest sympathies and thoughts go out to everyone affected by the catastrophic Dreamliner crash. This tragedy has left behind not just a wreckage of metal and fire, but of human hope and future. Lives full of promise were cut short in a moment. Families are grieving. A community is shaken. And the question that quietly haunts the soul arises again—what is life, and how should we live it?

In Psalm 90:12, Moses offers a prayer that rings louder in moments like these: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Another way to read this verse is: “Lord, teach us to make our days count!” Not just to count our days, but to make each one meaningful—investing in relationships, serving with purpose, forgiving quickly, and living with eternal perspective. Life is not measured by its length, but by its depth.

None of us is promised tomorrow. We live under the illusion of control, planning for decades ahead while forgetting that our breath is borrowed. The only moment that truly belongs to us is now—the present. This is the time to live, to love deeply, to laugh freely, to serve generously, and to shape the legacy we will one day leave behind.

We must plan as if we will live forever—with vision, stewardship, and purpose. But we must also live as if today were our last—with passion, forgiveness, and courage. When death visits suddenly, it forces us to face what truly matters.

The lives lost in this tragedy must not be forgotten. Let their stories compel us to live more intentionally. To number our days is not to fear death—it is to treasure life. Each day is a sacred gift.

Live it well.

The other day, while traveling in the city, my co-passenger and I were reflecting on the increasing aggression in our everyday surroundings. Whether in traffic or queues, public offices or marketplaces, the common thread is unmistakable: impatience, pushiness, and a growing sense of entitlement. People cut in line, speak rudely, or demand service—often without a hint of consideration for others.

Why this relentless urge to dominate? To push past? To be first?

Underneath this behavior lies a deeper fracture—an internal void fueled by insecurity and fear. It is a culture shaped by self-preservation rather than shared humanity. And yet, into this fractured world, the Gospel calls us to a better way.

Paul writes in Titus 3:8 that mature Believers must “devote themselves to doing what is good.” It is not optional. It is not seasonal. It is the default setting of the Christian life—eager, ready, and devoted to goodness. It is this self-giving posture that makes faith attractive and credible in a watching world.

The German philosopher Immanuel Kant spoke of the “categorical imperative”—a moral law that commands universally, not based on outcomes, but on the principle itself. In simple terms: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.” In other words, treat others the way every human ought to be treated—not for reward or recognition, but because it is right and that is the right thing to do.

This resonates deeply with Christian ethics. Jesus did not push others aside to get ahead. He served them, touched them, healed them—without expecting anything in return. He lived the ultimate categorical imperative when He laid down His life for others. Christians are called to imitate this: to do good not because it is beneficial, but because it is beautiful and true.

Imagine a world where people no longer act based on what they can get away with, but rather on what they would want others to imitate. Imagine a city where Believers let others go first in line, where kindness interrupts conflict, and grace governs behavior. This is not idealism—it is discipleship.

Through the vision of ACHIEVE 2040, we envision a church in every village—a community of Believers who reflect this alternative lifestyle. Not just in words, but in witness. Not just in doctrine, but in daily behavior.

In a world shaped by competition, Christ calls us to shape culture through compassion.