True Holiness

What comes to mind when you hear the word holiness? For many, it sounds intimidating—like a standard we could never reach. Others reduce it to moral rule-keeping or avoiding sin. But what if holiness is less about striving for perfection and more about experiencing the transforming presence of God?

“True holiness is a profound, living encounter with the living God. It is an encounter that takes us beyond ourselves into the very heart of God.”

— John Eldredge, The Utter Relief of Holiness

In his book, Eldredge reminds us that holiness isn’t primarily about performance. It’s not about gritting our teeth and trying harder to be good. Rather, holiness is a dynamic, transformative encounter with the living God—one that pulls us out of ourselves and draws us into His heart.

What is holiness? Holiness is being separated from the ordinary. God is holy because as Creator He is separate from His creation. God is holy because He is perfectly good and separate from beings who are a mix of good and bad.

This means that holiness is not self-produced. It is a gift received through faith and obedience, reshaping our hearts and minds. God declares that His people are holy. The foundation of our holiness is a living relationship with God that changes our status. We are ultimately holy, separated from the ordinary reality of this world, not because of our moral perfection, but because of God’s declaration.

When we encounter the goodness and love of God, we are overwhelmed with awe, love, and conviction. These three feelings draw us closer to Him, and that relationship ignites our spiritual formation. Therefore, as we grow in our understanding of His character and boundless love, as we pledge our allegiance to King Jesus, we begin to reflect that love outward to the people around us. 

Holiness, then, isn’t about rigid compliance or flawless performance. It’s about being remade by God’s love—and letting that renewal spill into every corner of our lives. It’s a way of living that demonstrates His character and brings Him glory.

Pursuing holiness requires intention. It is the discipline following God daily—through prayer, Scripture, worship, and even in the quiet rhythms of life. As James 4:8 promises, “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

True holiness is not something we can achieve on our own. It is a gift of grace, born from a living encounter with God. And as we walk in His presence day by day, His Spirit transforms us from the inside out—freeing us from what weighs us down and empowering us to love God with all or our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.

So let’s not settle for a shallow view of holiness as rule-keeping. Let’s pursue an encounter with the living and holy God. Let’s open our lives to God’s presence and allow His goodness to set us free.

The First Step Toward God

“The first step toward God is a step away from the lies of the world. It is a renunciation of the lies we have been told about ourselves and our neighbors and our universe.” — Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, p. 29

A World Drenched in Lies

We live in a world full of  lies. They zip through our news feeds, hum beneath casual conversations, and flash across billboards and screens. These lies are dangerous, whispering that we’re not enough—too flawed to be loved, too broken to be whole, too ordinary to make a difference. 

These lies  don’t stop at us; they bring harm to our communities, breeding suspicion and resentment among neighbors. They paint the universe as a cold, chaotic void, therefore we need to do what we can to find a little bit of joy in our lives. 

Yet, as Eugene Peterson so insightfully writes, the journey to God, and the life He created us to live, begins when we turn our backs on this chaotic noise and renounce the falsehoods we’ve swallowed whole.

Isaiah’s Unraveling Moment

Scripture offers a vivid picture of this turning point in the prophet Isaiah’s story found in chapter 6. Imagine the scene: Isaiah stands trembling before a vision of God—enthroned in splendor, His robe filling the temple, seraphim chanting “Holy, holy, holy.” The sight shatters him. “Woe is me!” he cries. “I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips” (Isaiah 6:5, ESV). In that moment, Isaiah sees himself without a filter: a sinner, frail and unworthy, standing before infinite holiness. In spite of this new knowledge he doesn’t flee. Rather, Isaiah takes that first, courageous step toward God by confessing his sin.

Grace That Transforms

The next scene is nothing short of amazing. A seraphim (a type of heavenly being) lifts a glowing coal from the altar, presses it to Isaiah’s lips, and declares, “Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for” (Isaiah 6:7, ESV). This is the breathtaking promise of that first step: when we reject the lies and confess our need, God responds with grace—cleansing, restoring, redeeming. It’s a moment of divine work, turning shame into acceptance, despair into hope.

A Deliberate Shift

This step—away from the world’s distortions and toward God’s truth—isn’t a single, dramatic leap. It’s a slow, intentional shift, a reorientation of the heart that ripples through our lives. It demands we face hard truths: about the pride we’ve nursed, the envy we’ve harbored, the illusions we’ve built to feel secure. The lies we’ve believed—about our worth, our purpose, our neighbors—might feel like reality, helping us make sense of life. But they’re a blindfold intended to keep us living in the dark. To renounce them, as Peterson suggests, is to step into a wild, uncharted freedom—a life rooted in love, wisdom, and the gracious presence of God.

Echoes Across Scripture

Isaiah’s experience isn’t an anomaly. The Bible is filled with stories of these stories. Moses, a political fugitive, stood before a burning bush and heard God call him to lead (Exodus 3). David, a shepherd boy turned abuser and murderer, wept in Psalm 51 for a clean heart—and found it. Mary, a young woman of no status, said yes to an impossible calling (Luke 1:38). Paul, once a persecutor, met Christ on a dusty road and was remade (Acts 9). Each faced their own inadequacy, their own tangle of lies, and stepped toward God anyway. Each found Him waiting—faithful, gracious, redeeming.

The Courage to Keep Walking

This journey isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes courage to peel back the layers of deception we’ve worn like armor. It takes persistence to keep walking when the world’s noise crescendos again and again. But it’s worth it. 

As we move away from lies and toward God, we uncover a life unshackled from shame, bitterness, or isolation. We encounter a God who doesn’t just meet us once but guides us, step by step, into a reality truer and more beautiful than the world’s fleeting promises. So let’s take that first step today—however shaky, however small—and trust Him to lead us on.

Known and Loved: Embracing the God Who Sees Us

Have you ever ached to be truly known? Not the polished version you show the world—the forced smiles and small talk—but the raw, unfiltered you, with all your quirks, fears, and unspoken dreams? I know I have. When I share a piece of my heart with someone, what I’m really longing for isn’t just to be heard, but to be accepted—fully, as I am.

That deep, universal hunger finds its answer in Psalm 139. Let’s explore this breathtaking passage and discover a God who knows us inside out—and loves us beyond imagination.

The God Who Searches Us
“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.” – Psalm 139:1

Right away, the Psalmist drops a bombshell: God doesn’t just notice us—He pursues us. He knows my every move—the quiet mornings with coffee in hand, the restless pacing over a tough call, even the words I’ll write before they form. It’s not a distant glance; it’s an active, tender gaze, like a parent watching their child with quiet joy.

Sometimes, that intimacy unnerves me—God seeing every flaw, every doubt. But the Psalmist calls it “wonderful” (v. 6). Why? Because this isn’t a judge keeping score; it’s a Father weaving a love story through every step of our lives—mine and yours.

The God Who Stays
“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” – Psalm 139:7

There’s no escaping God. Soar to the heavens? He’s there. Plummet to the depths? He’s waiting. Bury myself in doubt’s shadows? Even there, “the darkness is not dark to you” (v. 12).

This isn’t a pursuit to trap us—it’s a promise to hold us. I’ve felt loneliness so heavy it pinned me down, but Psalm 139 whispers: You’re never alone. His presence doesn’t just linger; it pierces our gloom with light. Wherever you are right now—on a peak or in a pit—He’s right there with you.

The God Who Crafts Us
“You knit me together in my mother’s womb… I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” – Psalm 139:13–14

This stops me cold. Imagine God as a master artisan, shaping you with care—your laugh, your passions, even the flaws you’d erase. He mapped out your days before your first breath and declared, This is good.

I don’t always feel “wonderful”—mirrors and comparisons can steal that truth. But our worth isn’t fragile; it’s forged by our Creator. You’re no accident or rough sketch—you’re a masterpiece, intentional and irreplaceable.

The God Who Welcomes Us
“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.” – Psalm 139:23

Here’s the gut punch: the Psalmist doesn’t just marvel at God’s knowledge—he begs for more. That’s bold. It’s laying bare the mess—the buried hurts, the dodged fears—and saying, I trust You with it.

Why dare that? Because God’s love is a safe harbor, not a courtroom. He’s not here to condemn; He’s here to mend. So I’ve been asking: What’s hiding in my heart? What’s in yours? His love chases out fear, making room for us to be real.

The God Who Treasures Us
“How precious to me are your thoughts, God! … Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.” – Psalm 139:17–18

Pause and breathe that in. God’s thoughts about you aren’t harsh or fleeting—they’re precious, endless, drenched in love. This isn’t a passing fondness; it’s an unshakable vow.

When we hand Him our broken pieces, we don’t just get grace—we get a Father who delights in us, no strings attached.

Living Known and Loved
So where does this leave us?

Psalm 139 says you’re known—every breath, every stumble. You’re never alone, even in the blackest night. You’re crafted with purpose, called wonderful. And you’re invited into a love that changes everything.

You—yes, you, right now—are seen and cherished by the Creator of all things, not for what you’ve earned, but for who He is.

Take a moment today. Sit with that. Ask God to search your heart—what’s He stirring? A wound to heal? A fear to release? Trust Him with it. Let His love redefine how you see yourself and how you step into the world.

Father, thank You for knowing us completely and loving us fiercely. Search us, Lord—reveal Your heart. Give us courage to rest in Your love and live as Yours. Amen.

What Type of Relationship?

The Saying We Love

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “Christianity is not a religion, it’s a relationship.” It’s a popular saying for American Christians, especially in evangelical circles, and it’s got a certain ring to it. The idea behind it is to make Christianity seem more appealing—less about dusty rituals, more about a living connection with Jesus. 

There’s something attractive there, and it’s not entirely off-base. 

After all, Jesus said, “I no longer call you servants… I have called you friends” (John 15:15). The New Testament teaches this personal dynamic—grace, faith, a God who knows us. But here’s where I want to pause: Christianity is a religion. And denying that it is a religion doesn’t just oversimplify—it misses the bigger picture of what God’s doing through the covenant relationship He created through Jesus.

Where the Phrase Holds—and Falters

Let’s take a deeper look at the saying. On one hand, it’s trying to capture something real. It pushes back against the stereotype of religion as cold formalism—think Pharisees with their rules, missing the heart of God. The “relationship” bit highlights how Christianity invites us into something intimate, transformative, and even messy as we face the challenges of maturity. It’s not wrong to say that knowing Jesus changes everything. 

But calling it “not a religion” misses the reality of how we have a relationship with God. Christianity has sacred texts (the Bible), doctrines (Trinity, atonement), rituals (baptism, communion), and disciplines (meditation, prayer, fasting). That’s religion by any definition. To ditch the term “religion” is to set up a false split—religion as the bad guy, relationship as the hero. It sounds catchy, but it is not true.

Covenant: The Bigger Frame

Here’s the thing: Christianity doesn’t need to shed “religion” to appeal to people. It’s a religion defined by a relationship—one that’s rooted in covenant. 

So what’s a covenant? It’s a sacred agreement that is binding. In the case of Christianity, it is an agreement between God and His people, that blends commitment and loyalty with purpose and promise. God doesn’t just deal with us as scattered individuals; He binds us to Himself and to each other through promises that echo across history. Think of Abraham: “I will be your God, and you will be my people” (Genesis 17:7). Or the new covenant in Jesus’ blood, sealing us as a “chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation” (1 Peter 2:9). This isn’t just a private “me and Jesus” thing—it’s a communal reality, a people set apart by God.

When “Relationship” Shrinks the Story

The “relationship, not religion” line risks shrinking God’s covenant down. It turns faith into a cozy, solo experience, sidelining the bigger, messier truth of covenant life.

Yes, it’s personal—God knows your name, your doubts, your hopes. But it’s also bigger than you. The Bible’s covenants—from Noah to Moses to Christ—always involve a community with a purpose. Israel’s whole identity was wrapped up in being God’s covenant people, even when they stumbled. The early church got it too, sharing everything and growing together (Acts 2:44-47). That’s not just a personal relationship; that’s religion lived out in the real world.

Why Covenant Matters

So why does this matter? Because leaning too hard on “relationship” alone can miss what God’s after. Covenant means we’re not just in this for ourselves. We’re tied to each other—responsible to help, forgive, and carry burdens. Galatians 6:2 says, “Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ” (NLT). That’s not optional; it’s the covenant at work. The phrase might sell books or fill pews, but it’s too small for the God who calls a nation, not just a fan club.

Reframing the Faith

Christianity is a religion, no question about it. 

Christianity is a relationship, that is absolutely correct. 

Christianity is a covenant relationship—personal and communal, intimate and expansive. Maybe the saying needs a rewrite: “Christianity isn’t just a religion—it’s a covenant that makes us God’s people.” 

Less catchy, that is true, but it holds the weight of the story.

The Right Cross at the Right Time

In December 2004, I found myself in a bind. After serving as a youth pastor for over five years at the Stronghurst Christian Church in Stronghurst, Illinois, I decided to pursue seminary with the thought of becoming a college professor. I took out a student loan and moved to Lincoln, Illinois to attend seminary. One of the big problems I faced was I couldn’t find a job. 

Meanwhile, a $3,000 credit card debt from my time in Stronghurst loomed over me, spiraling toward collections. I was helpless. It was then my dad, fresh from selling some cattle, paid it off. When I promised to repay him, he simply said, “Show me your savings account when you’ve saved $3,000.” It took a few years, but I was able to do that. In fact, that was the money I used to buy Jenny’s engagement ring and pay for our honeymoon. That act of grace from my dad is a small picture of a much bigger story.

The Bible compares sin to a debt we can’t pay. It leaves us utterly helpless, trapped in a broken world, our relationship with God fractured because we’ve chosen our way over His. There’s nothing we can do to fix it. Yet, God doesn’t abandon us. From the moment sin entered through Adam and Eve, corrupting His good creation, God set a plan in motion to rescue us—starting with those made in His image. That plan centers on love, and it unfolds most clearly on a cross. In Romans 5:6-11, the Apostle Paul unpacks this story: the problem of sin, the power of faith, and the heart of God’s love.

The Meaning of the Cross: A Sacrifice for the Undeserving

Paul writes, “When we were utterly helpless, Christ died for the ungodly at just the right time” (Romans 5:6). Our sin left us powerless, unable to undo the damage to our relationship with God, each other, and the world. Like shattered glass, it can’t be unbroken. The covenant with Israel exposed this reality, showing our separation from God and our inability to save ourselves. Yet, at the precise moment in God’s plan—“just the right time”—Jesus died for us.

Consider this: we might sacrifice our lives for someone we love—a child, a sibling, a friend. But for a stranger? A morally good person we don’t know? Unlikely. Now imagine dying for an enemy. That’s where God’s heart differs. Paul says, “God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:8). Jesus, the righteous Son, gave His life for the ungodly—not because we deserved it, but because God’s love extends to all creation. The cross is love in action, securing eternal life and a place in God’s new creation.

The Greatness of the Cross: Justification and Reconciliation

Because of the cross, we are justified—made right in God’s sight. Sin’s penalty is death, but Jesus, the sinless One, took that penalty for us. His perfect life and sacrificial death didn’t just forgive us; they restored us as citizens of God’s Kingdom. Paul also says we’re reconciled: “Our friendship with God was restored” (Romans 5:10, NLT). More than friendship, we’re welcomed back as children, no longer enemies but family.

This salvation is secure. It’s not based on our efforts but on Jesus’ finished work. Our role? Faith—trust, loyalty, and commitment to King Jesus. Justification and reconciliation are offered to all, but only those who pledge their allegiance to Him receive them. The cross is God’s great act of love, dealing with sin’s penalty and restoring what was broken.

The Joy of the Cross: Celebrating Atonement

Paul calls us to “rejoice” in this new relationship with God (Romans 5:11). Other translations say “celebrate” or “boast.” We’re to thank God for His love, proclaim His mercy, and live with joy. The South Asia Bible commentary tells of a Nepali pastor who shared that one of the truths that drew him to Jesus was that He willingly died for His enemies—a stark contrast to gods he was taught about, who sought to destroy their foes. Our God loves even the rebellious, and that’s worth shouting about.

The cross brings atonement, a term from the Old Testament meaning to cover sin and restore the covenant. Paul uses justification and reconciliation to explain this to Gentiles: Jesus’ death deals with sin, repairing our relationship with God. This joy isn’t just for new believers—it’s how we live every day. Our hope isn’t in fleeting circumstances but in God’s promises and the return of King Jesus, who will make all things right.

Living in Light of the Cross

Romans 5:6-11 reveals God’s love poured out through Jesus’ sacrifice. The cross shows us that Christ died for the undeserving, justifies us by paying sin’s penalty, and reconciles us to God’s family. Because of this, we can rejoice—no longer slaves to sin, despair, or fear. We worship a God who loves us enough to die for us. That’s worth celebrating.

Big Idea: Jesus secured our atonement on the cross so we can be justified and reconciled to God.

We live in a sin-corrupted world. Our bodies fail, relationships fracture, and pain surrounds us. But that’s not the final word. Through Jesus’ death, we can have a new relationship with God and confidence in the future. The atonement—His perfect sacrifice—deals with our sin and restores us to our Creator.

Challenge: This week, worship God with gratitude. Whether through music, prayer, or reading Psalms, express the joy of the reconciliation Jesus made possible.

Closing Thought: At just the right moment, Jesus came to rescue creation from sin’s corruption—evil, pain, disease, and death. He did it through a Roman cross, an unlikely tool for victory. His sacrifice atoned for our sins, giving us hope and a place in God’s Kingdom. Because of Jesus, we can live confidently as part of His family.

Prayer:

• Thank God for the new relationship He offers through Jesus.
• Ask forgiveness for ongoing sin.
• Commit to following King Jesus with trust and loyalty.

Let’s live in the joy of the cross, proclaiming God’s love to a world that needs to hear it.

Sunday Prayer: Awe and Gratitude

Gracious Father,

I come before You in awe and gratitude, for while I was still weak—lost in sin and far from You—Christ died for me. Not because I earned it, not because I was righteous, but because of Your overwhelming love and mercy. You sent Your Son to die for the ungodly, to rescue all of humankind when we could not rescue ourselves.

Thank You for the cross, for the blood that justifies me, and for the reconciliation I now have through Jesus. I rejoice that I am no longer Your enemy, but Your beloved child, brought near by the sacrifice of Christ. Help that truth sink deep into my heart and shape the way I live each day.

Help me to live in the joy of my salvation, to walk in the confidence of Your love, and to share the Gospel with a world still longing for hope. May I never take for granted the grace that saved me and the peace I now have with You through King Jesus.

In His mighty name I pray,

Amen.