Archive for the ‘Hope’ Tag
Last week, we began exploring what it means to become a people of hope. We discovered that biblical hope is very different from the way we commonly use the word today. Our hope is often rooted in uncertainty—“I hope things work out.” Biblical hope, however, is an unshakable confidence in God’s promised future. It enables us to live faithfully in the pain of the present because we are certain about what is yet to come.
But what is the foundation of that confidence?
The answer lies in one of the most remarkable claims of the Christian faith: Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead.
In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul makes a startling argument. While Christ’s death for our sins is central to the gospel, it is His resurrection that changes everything. Without the resurrection, faith is empty, hope is futile, and death still reigns. But because Christ has been raised, everything is different.
To understand why, we need to step back into the larger biblical story. In Genesis 1 and 2, we see God’s original intention for creation—a world filled with life, creativity, relationship, and flourishing under His rule. Humanity was created to walk with God, cultivate His world, and experience life as He intended.
That changed in Genesis 3. Through deception and disobedience, death entered the world. From that moment, death and all its consequences—fear, conflict, suffering, and brokenness—began to dominate human experience. Yet even in humanity’s fall, God promised that one day evil and death would be defeated (Genesis 3:15).
The rest of Scripture tells the story of God’s rescue plan. Through Abraham, Israel, the Law, the Temple, and the prophets, God continually pointed His people toward a coming King who would restore what had been lost. The prophets spoke of a day when death itself would be swallowed up forever (Isaiah 25:8).
That promise found its fulfilment in Jesus.
Yet even Jesus’ closest followers struggled to understand. When He spoke of His coming death and resurrection, they could not grasp what He meant. When He was crucified, it seemed all hope had died with Him.
But then came the resurrection.
The resurrection was not merely a resuscitation like those performed during Jesus’ ministry. The risen Christ appeared physically to His followers. He was seen by hundreds of witnesses, showed them His scars, ate with them, and yet also displayed a transformed existence beyond ordinary human limitations. The dramatic transformation of the disciples—from fearful and defeated to courageous witnesses willing to suffer and die for their testimony—provides compelling evidence that they had encountered the risen Lord and the resurrection was real.
So why does the resurrection matter so much?
Because the resurrection is God’s declaration that death does not have the final word. What was lost in Eden begins to be restored. Through Christ, the gate back into God’s kingdom is opened. The reign of death has been broken, and the reign of the true King has begun.
This means our hope is not simply about what happens after we die. It is about life now. Because Jesus lives, we can experience glimpses of God’s kingdom today. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, Christians are called to build communities marked by love, grace, justice, and hope—communities that reflect God’s coming kingdom in the present world.
The resurrection secures our future, but it also transforms our present.
That is why Christian hope is certain. It is not wishful thinking. It is confidence grounded in a historical event: Jesus Christ is risen. And because He lives, we can face today—and tomorrow—with hop
Does Hope Matter?
In a world marked by uncertainty, suffering, and disappointment, the question is worth asking: does hope really matter?
The story of Katherine Wolf offers a powerful answer. In 2008, at just 26 years old and the mother of a six-month-old son, Katherine suffered a catastrophic brain stem stroke. Against all expectations, she survived, enduring months in the hospital and numerous surgeries. Though she continues to live with disability, chronic pain, and significant challenges, her life has become a testimony to hope through the ministry Hope Heals. How can someone facing such ongoing struggles speak so confidently about hope?
The answer lies in understanding the difference between the hope we commonly talk about and the hope the Bible describes.
In everyday language, hope is often little more than a wish. We hope for good weather, hope our team wins, or hope circumstances improve. Such hope is rooted in uncertainty. Even in the Gospels, before the resurrection, Jesus’ followers often spoke of hope in this way: “We had hoped…” they said on the road to Emmaus after His crucifixion.
Yet after the resurrection, something changed dramatically. The New Testament writers speak of hope not as wishful thinking but as confident certainty. The writer of Hebrews describes hope as an anchor for the soul, while Paul speaks of a hope that does not disappoint. Why the difference? Because of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The resurrection changed everything. Humanity has lived under the shadow of death since the fall in Genesis 3. Death remains the great destroyer of hope, the reality we spend our lives trying to delay or avoid. But through His resurrection, Jesus conquered death itself. For those who trust in Him, death is no longer the end but a doorway into His presence and ultimately into God’s eternal Kingdom.
This is the hope that sustained Katherine Wolf. It is also the hope that sustained my late wife Sarah and me during her illness. As doctors offered treatments and possibilities, we naturally hoped for healing. Yet over time we learned to live in a deeper hope—not based on desired outcomes, but on the certainty that Jesus had overcome death. Whatever happened, our future was secure in Him.
That same hope is available today. It does not remove pain, erase grief, solve financial pressures, or instantly fix broken relationships. Instead, it gives us a foundation that cannot be shaken by present circumstances. It allows us to face uncertainty with confidence because our future is held securely in Christ.
As we look around at a world filled with conflict, loneliness, anxiety, and fear, perhaps the most important question is: where is our hope rooted? Is it resting on circumstances that may change tomorrow, or on the unchanging reality of Christ’s resurrection?
The Church is called to be a community of hope—not offering simplistic answers or quick fixes, but walking together through life’s challenges with confidence in God’s promises. In a world desperately searching for stability and meaning, followers of Jesus have the privilege of sharing a hope that is not based on wishful thinking, but on the certainty that Christ is risen and that His Kingdom is coming.
Hope matters because it changes how we live today. It enables us to face tomorrow with courage, whatever tomorrow may bring.
In a world marked by conflict, anxiety, loneliness, and constant striving, an honest question confronts us: does the story of the resurrection make any real difference in our lives today?
For many, the answer feels like “not really.” If the resurrection is seen as a distant, uncertain event from the past, it can seem irrelevant to the very real challenges we face now. Instead, we often live within a cultural story that tells us the answers lie in working harder, looking inward, and defining our own truth. Freedom, self-expression, and independence become our guiding values. But we must pause and ask: how is that story working for us?
With rising anxiety, depression, and what has been described as a “pandemic of loneliness,” it’s worth considering that something isn’t quite right. Perhaps the story we’ve been living in isn’t delivering the hope it promises.
The resurrection invites us into a different story—not an isolated miracle, but the climax of a much bigger narrative. A story that begins with a loving God who created humanity for relationship, a relationship that was broken when people chose independence over trust.
Yet God did not abandon that story; He relentlessly pursued the restoration of a relationship with the people he loved. However, he knew that real loving relationships have two sides. People must recognize our determination to run life on our own has produced ways of life that continue to cause pain and sorrow. We must admit we have been wrong and ask for forgiveness.
Sadly, for thousands of years, people stubbornly refused to recognize this truth. So finally God sent His son Jesus. He stepped into human history to show us a new way of living—one marked not by self-centered striving, but by love, compassion, and restored relationships. Jesus didn’t just teach this way of life; He embodied it. And through His death and resurrection, He made it possible.
After the resurrection, Jesus’ followers slowly began to understand this new story. And when the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost, everything changed. But what truly captured attention wasn’t just the dramatic moment—it was what came after. A new kind of community emerged. Not driven by power or status, but by deep love and shared life. People cared for one another, lived generously, and what emerged was something that looked more like a family than an institution. As Tyler Staton observes, it wasn’t the spectacle of Pentecost that impacted the world most—it was the community that remained.
The real question is not just whether the resurrection happened, but whether we are willing to consider that:
- We may be living in the wrong story
- There might be a better one available
- And that this new story is meant to be lived, not just believed
The invitation is simple: be curious. Look for communities that are genuinely trying to live this way—loving one another and those around them—and see what happens. Because real change doesn’t happen all at once. It begins slowly, as people choose to step into a different story together.
The resurrection matters—not just as a past event, but as a present invitation. An invitation to move from isolation to community, from striving to grace, from confusion to hope. And perhaps, as we begin to live in that story together, we’ll discover that it changes more than we ever expected.
My Father’s Business – A Life Directed by Love
As we continue learning what it means to love like Jesus—to see, feel, speak, and even remain silent like Him—we quickly discover how difficult that calling really is. Yet the life of Jesus reminds us of something crucial: He lived fully as a human being, just as we do. His love wasn’t effortless because He was God; it was intentional, rooted in something deeper.
One of the clearest glimpses into that “something deeper” comes from a single story in His childhood. At just twelve years old, when His parents found Him in the temple (Luke 2:46) after three days of searching, Jesus responded, (Luke 2:49)“Didn’t you know I had to be about my Father’s business?” or “I must be in my Father’s house,” depending on your translation. This moment reveals a defining pattern for His entire life. His priority was always to be in His Father’s presence, listening for His Father’s direction.
This pattern continues throughout His ministry. Whether at the wedding in Cana, where He quietly turned water into wine, or when His brothers pressured Him to seek public attention, Jesus consistently responded with an awareness that His timing and actions were not His own. He lived according to His Father’s will, not the expectations of others. His repeated phrase, “My time has not yet come,” shows a deep dependence on God’s timing and guidance.
So how did Jesus love with such depth, wisdom, and compassion?
He didn’t do it alone.
Jesus lived in constant relationship with the Father, guided by the Spirit. He only did what He saw the Father doing and followed where the Father led. Even in the Garden of Gethsemane, we see that His ultimate act of love—choosing the cross—came through surrendering His own will to the Father’s.
This is the key for us.
We are not called to love like Jesus through our own strength. Like Him, we are invited to live lives rooted in God’s presence, listening for His voice, and relying on the Holy Spirit for both the what and the how of love.
To be “about the Father’s business” is not about striving harder—it’s about staying closer.
And as we do, we will find that the same love that shaped Jesus’ life begins to shape ours too.
Truth and Love: Walking the Way of Jesus
When we ask the Holy Spirit to form us into a people of love, we quickly become aware that there are human attitudes that can hinder our ability to love with the compassion we see in Jesus. One of the most challenging tensions we face is how to remain faithful to truth while still expressing genuine love.
The church often finds itself caught between two cultural extremes. On one side is the mindset of “you do you,” which fears that speaking truth might push people away. On the other side is a rigid legalism that prioritizes being right but can lose sight of grace. The question is: How did Jesus navigate this tension between truth and love?
The Gospels show us that truth was never optional for Jesus. In fact, truth is central to who He is. He described Himself as “the way, the truth, and the life,” leaving no room for the idea of competing personal truths. Yet what is striking about Jesus is that He never compromised truth—and still loved people deeply.
A powerful example appears in the story of the sinful woman who anoints Jesus’ feet (Luke 7:36–50). When Jesus accepts a dinner invitation from a Pharisee named Simon, a woman known for her sinful reputation enters the gathering. Overcome with gratitude for the forgiveness she has experienced, she weeps at Jesus’ feet, anointing them and wiping them with her hair.
Simon silently judges both the woman and Jesus, assuming that a true prophet would have rejected her. But Jesus gently confronts Simon’s thinking. Rather than rebuking him harshly, He tells a story that leads Simon to recognize the truth for himself. Jesus then contrasts Simon’s lack of hospitality with the woman’s humble devotion. While He does not deny her sin, He highlights the depth of her repentance and assures her of forgiveness. Truth is spoken, but it is surrounded by compassion and grace.
A similar pattern appears when Jesus encounters the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1–11). The crowd seeks to trap Him by demanding judgment. Instead, Jesus exposes the hypocrisy of the accusers, inviting anyone without sin to cast the first stone. One by one they leave. When Jesus finally speaks to the woman, He neither condemns nor excuses her sin. Instead, He offers grace while calling her to a new life: “Go now and leave your life of sin.”
We see the same balance in the story of the rich young ruler (Mark 10:17–22). The man asks about eternal life, confident in his moral record. Jesus lovingly helps him see the deeper truth: the Kingdom is not simply about keeping rules but about surrendering everything to follow Him. Mark’s Gospel notes something remarkable—Jesus looked at him and loved him—even as He spoke the difficult truth the man needed to hear.
From these encounters we learn something essential about Jesus. He never avoids truth, because confronting truth is actually an act of love. It is in that honest moment that grace, forgiveness, and transformation become possible.
As one writer put it, “Compassion without truth and justice is an ugly, spineless parody of love.” True love does not ignore the darkness of sin; it engages it so that the light of grace can break through.
If we want to live like Jesus, we must learn to do the same—to face truth honestly while building relationships marked by humility, grace, and compassion. In doing so we create space for people to encounter the forgiveness and new life that only Jesus can give.
Compassion or Comparison (continued)
As we ask the Holy Spirit to shape us into a people of love, one of the key lessons we see in the life of Jesus is the importance of truly seeing people. Not merely noticing them, but seeing them in a way that awakens compassion.
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly responds to people with compassion. When He sees the hungry crowds, He feeds them. When He sees people who are lost and in need of guidance, He cares for them. His compassion leads Him to do the unthinkable—such as touching and healing a man with leprosy. Again and again, Jesus’ compassion moves Him to act, even when it is inconvenient.Often the obstacle is not that we fail to see people, but how we see them.
For many of us, however, compassion does not come naturally. Jesus speaks directly to this struggle when He calls His followers to love and show mercy particularly to those we see as our “enemies”.(Luke 6:27-36). It is easy to respond compassionately to those who love us whose attitude to us is less positive not so much!
The Gospels frequently contrast the way Jesus sees people with the way others do. In the story of the man born blind,(John 9) the disciples immediately ask who sinned to cause his condition. Their assumption reflects a common belief that suffering must be punishment. Instead of compassion, their first response is judgment. The disciples see a blind man, Jesus see a man who happens to be blind and who he can touch with a healing hand in such a way as to give glory to His Father in heaven.
We can easily fall into the same pattern as the disciples. When we see someone struggling—perhaps a person experiencing homelessness—it can be tempting to assume they are responsible for their situation. Comparison quietly creeps in: I would never let that happen to me. In that moment, compassion is replaced with judgment.
Jesus also exposes this mindset in the story of the prodigal son. When the father welcomes his broken son home with compassion, the elder brother reacts with anger. He immediately compares his faithfulness with his brother’s failure and concludes that he has been treated unfairly. Comparison leads to resentment and self-righteousness.
The same attitude appears in Jesus’ story of the Pharisee and the tax collector. The Pharisee’s prayer is full of comparison: he thanks God that he is not like other people. While it is easy to feel repulsed by his arrogance, we must be careful. Self-righteousness can slip quietly into our own thinking—in small everyday moments when we assume our way is better than everyone else’s.
Another obstacle to compassion that appears throughout the Gospels is legalism. In Luke 6, Jesus heals a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. The religious leaders are more concerned with whether Jesus has broken their rules than with the suffering of the man in front of them. Jesus reveals that they have missed the deeper purpose of the law: love and mercy.
We must be careful not to fall into the same trap. Over time, traditions and customs can become so important that we forget the people they are meant to serve.
If we want to love like Jesus, we must learn to see people the way He does. That means taking time to listen to their stories and making sure they feel known and safe. We must be sure to ask the Holy Spirit to show us when judgement, self righteousness or legalism in some form or another creeps into our attitude. When it is these things that prompt us to compare rather than act with compassion.
Your Highest Goal: Making Love the Center of the Christian Life
Love is arguably the word most used—and with the widest range of definitions in our culture. From song lyrics to Valentine’s Day celebrations, everyone talks about love, yet defining it proves surprisingly difficult. Ask a room full of people what love means, and you’re likely to get answers “all over the map.”
Yet Scripture makes it clear that love is not a vague or optional idea. The word love appears repeatedly throughout the Gospels—78 times in total, with a striking concentration in John chapters 13–17. These are Jesus’ own words, spoken at the most intimate moment with His disciples. From the very beginning, John tells us that God’s love entered the world through Jesus (John 1:17). When Jesus is asked to identify the greatest commandment, He responds that loving God fully and loving our neighbour as ourselves sums up the entire Law and the Prophets (Matthew 22:38–40). Later, He gives His disciples a “new command”: to love one another as He has loved them—declaring that this love will be the defining mark of His followers (John 13:33–34).
Clearly, love sits at the very heart of apprenticeship to Jesus.
The apostles understood this as well. The letters of the New Testament use the word love over 170 times. In addressing the Corinthian church’s understanding of spiritual gifts, Paul makes a striking statement: “Make love your highest goal” (1 Corinthians 14:1). He devotes an entire chapter—1 Corinthians 13—to explaining that love is the foundation for all the work of the Holy Spirit. Without love, even the most impressive spiritual activity amounts to nothing.
Because love is so central to Jesus’ teaching and the life of the Church, this new series sets out to go deeper—not only to understand what love is, but to learn how we can become people who are genuinely characterised by it.
One challenge we face is that most modern definitions of love focus on feelings and emotions—things we cannot control or command. As Dharius Daniels in his book “re-Presenting Jesus “observes, “feelings can be managed but not commanded“. This creates a problem, because Jesus does command us to love, and to love in the way He loves (John 15:17). That means love as Jesus demonstrated must be more than emotion; it must be something visible, intentional, and embodied.
The New Testament most often uses the Greek word agape to describe God’s love. Rather than defining it abstractly, the best way to understand agape is by looking at the life of Jesus Himself. Over the coming weeks, this series will do exactly that—examining how Jesus lives out love, using 1 Corinthians 13:4–6 as a lens through which to observe His actions and character.
To help frame this journey, a working definition of love—drawn from Jesus’ life and the wisdom of Scripture—has been introduced and will remain visible throughout the series, open to refinement as we continue learning together. Agape-To make an absolute priority of, and to work relentlessly for, the absolute best for another person(s) without expecting a return
To launch this exploration, the sermon concludes in an unusual way: with a story. Stories often reveal truth more powerfully than explanations, and few modern writers capture the lived reality of love better than Bob Goff. The opening story from his book Love Does offers a compelling picture of what it looks like when love moves beyond words and becomes action—a fitting invitation into a series devoted to making love our highest goal.
Healing: Living with Faith, Mystery, and Courage
Few subjects stir as much emotion in the church as healing. Because sickness touches every life, the gift of healing feels deeply personal and often painful. It raises hope—but also questions, disappointment, and mystery. Yet healing cannot be ignored. Scripture places it at the very heart of God’s story and the church’s mission.
Healing appears throughout the Bible, from God’s self-revelation as healer in the Old Testament to the ministry of Jesus in the New. The Gospels are filled with accounts of Jesus healing the sick, but Luke 10 is especially striking. There, Jesus commissions not just the Twelve, but seventy-two unnamed disciples to heal the sick and proclaim the nearness of God’s Kingdom. This wider sending points to healing as a normal part of the church’s everyday witness, not a rare or elite activity.
Yet the difficult question remains: if healing is part of God’s Kingdom, why doesn’t everyone get healed? This question has troubled believers throughout history and is closely tied to the broader mystery of unanswered prayer. Jesus consistently linked healing to the coming of the Kingdom of God—a Kingdom that is both “now and not yet.” In Eden, there was no sickness; in the New Creation, there will be none again. The healings we see today are glimpses—tastes—of what is to come. They are signs of God’s future breaking into the present, even while we still live in a broken world.
This tension helps us hold hope and honesty together. Healing sometimes happens, and when it does, it serves as a taste of God’s coming restoration. When it does not, we remain in the mystery of the “not yet.” Even Jesus’ own ministry reflects this tension—most notably at the pool of Bethesda, where only one person was healed.
Jesus healed in many different ways: with a word, a touch, at a distance, even in stages. The common thread was simplicity and authority. He did not use elaborate prayers or perform rituals; he simply said “be healed”. Healing, as one pastor put it, is a profoundly “Jesusie” thing to do.
So why don’t we see it more often today? One reason may be fear—fear of failure, fear of disappointment, fear of trying and not seeing results. Yet Scripture gives us no permission to opt out. While we must accept the mystery, we are still invited to participate.
Healing remains part of the Spirit’s work through the church. Living faithfully in the “not yet” means being willing to try, to pray, and to trust God with the outcome. As followers of Jesus, we are called not just to believe in “Jesus-like” things—but to dare to do them.
Some weeks ago we looked at the subject of discernment. In this sermon we revisit this gift and explore it further through real-life stories, biblical examples, and practical guidance for the life of the church. Discernment is a unique spiritual gift—one acknowledged by both cessationists and continuationists—perhaps because it sits at the very heart of hearing and obeying the Word of God.
While wisdom and prophecy are vital, they are not the same as discernment. Some of the things God calls us to may appear unwise on the surface, and Scripture reminds us to “test the spirits” (1 John 4:1). These realities point clearly to our need for discernment: the ability to recognise what truly is—or is not—the will of God.
When Discernment Is Needed
Two church stories helped illustrate this. One involved the difficult question of whether a church should remain open; the other asked whether two churches should close and allow a new church to be born. In both cases, the issue was not opinion, strategy, or common sense, but a single, defining question: What is God’s will?
Because of that, discernment could not be rushed or handled individually. It required:
• Community – everyone was involved in seeking God together
• Preparation – time set aside for prayer and fasting
• Clearing the ground – laying aside biases, cultural expectations, and personal preferences
• A “prayer of indifference” – a willingness to accept God’s answer, whatever it might be
Only once that central question was answered could the church move on to the “how.”
Discernment vs. Guidance
In the process of forming a new church, working groups explored issues such as a name and a statement of faith. This stage was not discernment but guidance—a sharing of ideas, perspectives, and opinions. Discernment came later, when the community gathered again, prayed, fasted, and asked whether these proposals truly reflected God’s will.
In both major decisions, God gave a clear and confirming “yes.”
Discernment in Scripture
Scripture shows the same patterns at work. In 2 Samuel 16, David refuses to act on cultural instinct or human advice during Absalom’s rebellion. Instead of reacting, he waits to discern what God is wanting him to do. By contrast, Absalom assumes that wise-sounding counsel must be God’s will—and the result is disaster.
In Acts 21, Paul hears repeated prophecies warning him about his journey to Jerusalem. Rather than rejecting them, he discerns their true purpose: not instructions to stop, but warnings to prepare him for what he already knows God has called him to do. Discernment allows Paul to honour the prophetic voices without being led off course.
What We Learn About Discernment
From these stories and passages, several key principles emerge:
• Discernment is needed when we must decide whether a specific action is God’s will, whether we are indeed recognizing Gods voice.
• It is practiced in community, not in isolation
• It requires intentional preparation, perhaps through prayer and fasting, in order to clear out the noise and be able to hear God’d voice
• God is gracious and faithful to confirm His will in different ways.Even when we are unsure, we can trust God to guide, correct, and reassure us
Ultimately, the gift of discernment helps us listen more carefully, act more faithfully, and walk more confidently in obedience to God—especially in moments of uncertainty, transition, and new beginnings.
When we think about the Christmas story, familiar figures quickly come to mind: shepherds, wise men, angels, Mary and Joseph. Yet one vital participant is often overlooked—the Holy Spirit. This sermon invites us to rediscover His central role in the events leading to Jesus’ birth and to reflect on how God’s creative work continues today.
Luke, the Gentile doctor and careful historian, tells us that he set out to write an accurate account of the events “fulfilled” in the life of Jesus (Luke 1:1–4). While we compress the Christmas story into a few festive weeks each December, the reality is far more complex and costly. The events unfolded over many months, in a world marked by political oppression, economic hardship, and deep uncertainty.
To appreciate the Spirit’s work, we rewind not to December, but to “April”—nine months before Jesus’ birth. In the small, insignificant village of Nazareth, the Holy Spirit enters history in a dramatic and unsettling way.
A Disruptive Announcement
Mary, likely no more than 12–14 years old, was betrothed to Joseph in a binding family contract. While this arrangement was normal in her culture, everything else about that day was not. The angel Gabriel—acting under divine direction—appeared to her with astonishing news: she would conceive a child by the Holy Spirit.
For Mary, this “favor” came at immense personal cost. Pregnancy outside of marriage threatened her future, her reputation, and even her life. Confused and disturbed, she questioned how this could happen—she was a virgin. Gabriel’s answer was simple yet staggering: the Holy Spirit would “come upon” her.
This moment echoes the very beginning of Scripture. Just as the Spirit hovered over the chaos at creation (Genesis 1:2), He now hovered over Mary, bringing new life where it seemed impossible. The incarnation itself—the Word becoming flesh—was the climax of the Spirit’s creative work through history.
Confirmation, Joy, and Cost
The Holy Spirit did not leave Mary alone with this impossible calling. Soon after, she visited her cousin Elizabeth, whose own miraculous pregnancy had already begun. When Mary arrived, Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, the baby in her womb leapt, and she spoke prophetic words that confirmed Mary’s calling.
In response, Mary erupted in praise—the Magnificat—overflowing with joy and worship, even though she knew suffering lay ahead. The Spirit’s work did not remove pain, misunderstanding, or hardship, but He brought assurance, guidance, and deep joy beneath the surface.
In the months and years that followed, the Holy Spirit continued to protect and guide this fragile family—leading them to safety in Egypt and confirming God’s purposes through voices like Simeon and Anna.
What This Means for Us
The lesson is clear: the Holy Spirit is not a background figure in God’s story. He is the ongoing, active agent of God’s creative and redemptive work. He still comes into lives—personal, communal, and even national—to accomplish what seems impossible.
Like Mary, we are invited to trust. God’s favor does not always look comfortable or safe, but it is never without His presence. Beneath the struggle, the Holy Spirit brings reassurance, protection, and joy beyond imagination.
The “forgotten participant” is, in truth, indispensable—and He is still at work today.
From the Zebra Bag 