If I can rejoice in the midst of suffering, then I stand at the threshold of a sacred mystery, that place where I, in my own frail flesh, “fill up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ… for the sake of His Body.” Only the soul saturated and drenched in the Spirit of the Living God, can rise in the midst of wreckage of loss and cry out with trembling lips, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord!” This is no mere endurance, no stoic stance, it is a sacred participation in the sorrow and the splendor of Christ. It is the fellowship of His suffering. A communion few will dare to enter, too costly for most, and yet it is the very ground where heaven bows down and kisses the wounded earth
When heaven collides with earth, then it enters into sorrow. How could it be otherwise? One is perfect, the other a ruin of its original. And we, we who have been born from above, have been invaded by that very heaven. It fills our bones. It saturates our hearts. And in that collision we begin to drink from the same bitter cup our Lord once drank. We are not spectators. We are not distant. We are His Body, and so we must enter into that same sorrow, that way of suffering, and there we must rejoice in the midst of it all. And the joy we share, as we tarry there, begins to tear down the kingdom of darkness.
Our joy is the indelible, supernatural fingerprint of heavens glory that lies within us. Our brokenness, shattered by a dying world, becomes the sacred fissures through which the glory of God bursts forth. And as that glory pours forth, it kisses the wounded earth, and it becomes a balm of Gilead. It is the fellowship of His suffering. It is the communion of the afflicted. It is the royal priesthood of the scarred and the sanctified. A holy nation, set apart, bearing upon our very bodies the marks of our King. Not in shame, but in triumph. Not in defeat, but in everlasting victory.
I find myself increasingly dismayed by the widespread lack of discernment concerning not only the papacy but the Catholic Church as a whole. Speaking as a former Catholic, one who departed from the Church upon experiencing a genuine conversion, a born-again encounter with Christ. I am particularly troubled by the growing acceptance of Catholicism among Protestant and Evangelical circles that, only a few decades ago, would have maintained a clear separation. The shift over the past 25 to 30 years is both significant and concerning.
Research indicates that there are at least 20 million former Catholics in the United States alone. Of these, studies suggest that approximately 80–90% departed after undergoing a born-again experience. If we extend these figures to South America, the number nearly doubles, approaching 50 million individuals across the Americas who have left Catholicism for similar reasons. When extrapolated globally, the figure could be closer to 100 million. There is, therefore, a profound and deliberate reason why so many now identify as “ex-Catholics,” myself included, and I do not hesitate to affirm that designation.
The widespread failure to recognize these realities, in my view, correlates closely with the phenomenon commonly referred to as the “Great Falling Away” a time marked by diminishing spiritual discernment, widespread biblical illiteracy, and the dilution of Protestant witness, which has become but a shadow of its former vitality. This erosion continues largely unabated.
The idea that the head of the Catholic Church, the Pope, could be regarded as a born-again believer is, in my estimation, theologically untenable and historically absurd. This is to say nothing of the longstanding doctrinal errors promulgated by the Catholic Church, foremost among them the dogma of transubstantiation. The claim that a priest has the authority to transform a piece of bread into the literal body of Christ not only defies plain scriptural teaching but also strains credulity to the utmost. Such a claim, divorced from biblical foundations, highlights the extent of the doctrinal chasm.
Given these concerns, I have deliberately refrained from engagement with recent papal funerals, elections, and public commentary surrounding the pontificate. I am personally persuaded that the figure of the Pope, whether the present or a soon-coming successor, will fulfill the prophetic role of the False Prophet, one who will direct the world to the Antichrist, declaring him to be the true Christ. In a world that increasingly regards the Pope as the de facto figurehead of Christianity, reverently referring to him as the “Holy Father” and the “Vicar of Christ,” such developments seem to me to be falling into place with alarming predictability.
Then Moses stood, trembling before the living God and cried, “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here!” What use is a promised land without the presence of the Lord? What use victory without the Victor? Better to die in the wilderness with His presence than to live in palaces void of His presence. Moses didn’t crave gold or glory—only God. “How will they know we have found grace in Your sight unless You are with us? For it is Your Presence that sets us apart from all the peoples of the earth!”
This plea came after the shame of the golden calf. God had said, “I will not go in your midst, lest I consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people.” Judgment hung heavy. But the people responded with brokenness, they stripped themselves of their ornaments, the very gold they once used to craft an idol. What was once an object of rebellion would now be set apart for worship, given for the building of the tabernacle. Out of ashes, something holy would rise.
God, moved by the bold and broken cry of His servant, said to Moses, “I will do this thing that you have spoken, for you have found grace in My sight, and I know you by name.”
Oh, the wonder of being known by God, not just as a face in the crowd, but as a beloved child. Your name, spoken from His lips. The same voice that formed the stars knows your name.
But Moses was not satisfied. He wanted more. “Show me Your glory!” he cried. The cloud wasn’t enough. The fire wasn’t enough. The voice on Sinai wasn’t enough. He longed to see God Himself. Do we? Do you long for His presence with such desperation? Is this one desire the fire that burns in your bones?
David knew that longing. “I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved… for in Your Presence there is fullness of joy.” Not a taste, not a whisper, not a portion-fullness. The very life of the soul. Like a deer pants for the water, so our souls should pant for Him. We cannot go forward unless He goes with us. We need the cloud by day, the fire by night, and the glory that changes everything.
David cried again in Psalm 27, “One thing I have desired of the Lord, that will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple.” His heart was not set on fame or fortune, but on this one thing—to dwell with God, to see His beauty, to be near Him. In the time of trouble, God would hide him, lift him high upon the Rock.
To Moses, God replied, “I will make all My goodness pass before you… but no one can see My face and live. Still, there is a place by Me. Stand on the rock. I will hide you in the cleft of the rock and cover you with My hand. Then you shall see My back.” What a mercy. What a gift. Moses stood on the Rock, hidden in the cleft, shielded by God’s hand, and he saw the glory of the Lord.
Dear brothers and sisters, do you stand upon the Rock? Are you hidden in the cleft? Has the hand of God covered you, and have you glimpsed His glory? Has it changed you from the inside out? Like Isaiah, who saw the Lord and was undone. Like Jeremiah, who burned with His word. Like Ezekiel, who fell before the wheels of glory. Has His fire touched your lips?
This is no ordinary walk. This is the baptism of fire. For Jesus said, “I have come to cast fire upon the earth, oh, how I wish it were already kindled!” Our God is a consuming fire. He burns away the flesh, the pride, the idols, and reveals His glory in the soul that longs for Him. Let that fire fall.
There is power, brothers and sisters, real power. In Christ. It resides within us and we have been called to exercise it in the name of the Lord Jesus. Just because the Word of Faith movement and the Charismatics have so abused this notion, this should not dissuade us from moving in the power of God,He gives power to the weak, not just comfort, not just words, but power, power from heaven
poured into fragile clay. To those who have no might, He increases strength. This is not human resolve. This is not willpower. This is divine empowerment. Those who wait on the Lord? They don’t just survive, they rise. They mount up with wings like eagles. They run and do not grow weary. They walk, and they do not faint.
Why? Because it is God, yes, God, who commanded light to shine forth from darkness, who said “Let there be!” and there was, who has now shone into our hearts the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. There is power in the light, there is power in the “knowledge of glory.” Not the head knowledge, the mental assent to an abstract truth, but the glory itself and your experience of it and in it.
And this treasure, what a treasure! This power lives in earthen vessels, in us, so that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us. And Jesus said: “You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you…” (Acts 1:8). Power to live. Power to stand. Power to speak. Power to shine like lights in a darkened world. Power to be His witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.
Paul declared, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” He prayed that we would be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man. And Jesus Himself said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” So Paul says, “Therefore I will boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” Do you believe that today, saints? Do you believe there is a power alive in you? Christ in you, the hope of glory? Is there life in you? Is there light in you? Then let it burn. Let it blaze. Let the world see Jesus alive in you.
Let me give you a small example of Gods glory and power. I sat in the vet’s office many years ago as my beloved dog was old and sick and dying. I asked them how long the injection would take and they said a minute, maybe two. But after five minutes passed—she was still breathing. Confusion crossed their faces. The young women looked a little panicked. Something unspoken hung in the air. My hand was resting on her head. And then, in that moment, the Lord whispered to me: “Take your hand off her head.” I obeyed. As I did, her head slowly lowered and she rested on my foot and passed away.
There is power, my friends. Power in the touch. Power in obedience. Power in surrender. Power in the flow of Christ’s Spirit through yielded vessels. Will you let Him flow through you today? The world is starving, starving for an expression of Christ. Not religion. Not performance. But the raw, radiant reality of Jesus alive in us.
Let Him rise in you. Let Him shine through you. Let the power of Christ rest upon you today. The resurrection power of the Holy Spirit, the same power that caused Christ to rise from the dead, dwells with us earthen vessels.
Who, I ask you, who can separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trial? Shall agony? Shall persecution or hunger or nakedness or danger or the edge of the sword? It is written—For Your sake we are killed all the day long. We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.
And yet—yet! In all these things, not outside of them, not after them, but in the very midst of them, we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.
I am fully persuaded—utterly convinced—anchored with a faith that will not be shaken, That neither death, nor life, Nor angels nor demons, Nor rulers nor tyrants, Nor the present agony nor the looming shadow of the future, Nor the height of ecstasy nor the depths of despair, Nor anything that has ever been created in heaven or on earth or beneath the earth —none of it, nothing— shall be able to sever us, to tear us, to pry us loose from the love of God which is ours in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Oh, do you see it, saints? We are more than conquerors—not just survivors, not merely enduring, but victorious with eternal weight—in every circumstance.
Whether clothed in splendor or stripped bare in affliction, Whether seated in honor or cast into the pit of shame, Whether celebrated or scorned, Whether fed at a banquet or starved in a wasteland, Whether on the mountaintop or in the furnace—we overcome.
And we do not boast in our own strength. No! We walk humbly before men when they praise us. And we fall humbly before God when they revile us. For in the kingdom of God, victory and defeat are not what the world claims they are.
The cross proves this.
For at the hour when Jesus hung stripped, beaten, nailed to a tree—when the world saw only ruin, He was in fact winning the greatest victory ever known in heaven or on earth. He triumphed over sin. He broke the power of death. He shamed the powers of darkness and bore the full weight of the wrath of God. And He did it not by avoiding the humiliation—but by embracing it, enduring it for the joy set before Him.
And now, because He conquered, we too conquer.
Because He stood, we stand.
Because He rose, we rise.
So let the sword come. Let famine rage. Let persecution howl. Let all hell be loosed against us. We will not be moved. For we are more than conquerors—not in ourselves, but in Christ Jesus, by the power of the Holy Spirit.
And nothing—nothing—shall separate us from His love.
This is a song I wrote about about the valleys of brokenness to the mountaintops of divine encounter.It declares the eternal power of the Lord’s sacrifice and the unshakeable glory of God’s presence. It can be for personal worship or gatherings and I pray that it will draw you close to Jesus. The valleys spoken of in this song are very real, as is the mountaintops. We are called to worship in both places!…..bro Frank
In Ezekiel chater two, Ezekiel is still reeling from the overwhelming vision in chapter 1. The heavens had opened. The glory of the Lord had appeared. And what does a man do when he beholds the living God? He falls, face down, trembling, undone. Just like Isaiah in chapter 6, who cried, “Woe is me!” when he saw the Lord high and lifted up. And Jeremiah, he too had his moment, his calling, his confrontation with divine fire.
Every time, every single time, when a man comes into the presence of the Most High, he cannot stand. It is the only posture that makes sense before such holiness: to fall flat on your face, emptied of pride, silenced by glory.But then, then! The voice of the Lord cuts through with the weight of glory and says, “Son of man, stand on your feet.” Oh, can you hear it? It’s as though He’s speaking life into dust. It’s the same voice that called to the dry bones in the valley, saying, “Live!” And live they did. Bone to bone, sinew to sinew, flesh upon flesh, but it meant nothing without the breath.
And then—the wind! The Spirit! The breath of life rushed through the valley, and what had been dead stood tall, a vast army, alive by the very breath of God.So it is with us, brothers and sisters. We were dead—dead in our sins, dry and lifeless in a dark valley. But God! He breathed into us His Spirit. He raised us up. He caused us to stand—not by our might, not by our will, but by His power, His Spirit, His holy command.
We move, we speak, we rise, in the name and by the power of the Lord Jesus Christ. But it all begins,with an encounter. An encounter that breaks us down before it builds us up. This is the birth place of true obedience. This encounter, this losing of oneself, is the primary motivation for our mission in life, whatever He calls us to do. Ezekiel chapter 2 is not just the next chapter in a prophet’s story, it’s the holy aftermath of a collision with the Divine. It’s the moment where the fallen man hears the voice of God saying, “Rise.” And by His Spirit—we do.
Life is relentless in its demands. Day after day, it pulls at us, tugs at our attention, and weighs heavy on our souls. So much of it, if not most, is rooted in the thorns of this world, the very snares Jesus warned us about.
“And these are they which are sown among thorns; such as hear the word, and the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things entering in, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.” (Mark 4:18–19)
These thorns are real. They pierce deep. They don’t just graze us, they tear at us. They draw blood. They leave scars. And Jesus doesn’t stop at the thorns. He adds the deceitfulness of riches. He adds the lust for other things, that raging hunger, that craving, that aching desire to have, to possess, to control. Be it money, pleasure, status, power, it all wars against the soul.Put it all together, and spiritually, this world isn’t just hard, it’s a minefield. Every step we take can feel like it might explode with grief or temptation. And that’s before we even mention the griefs common to every life, death, loss, disease, betrayal, heartbreak, pain.
How then can we possibly walk as saints in such a broken world? Only by being rooted, anchored, in something not of this world. Something eternal. Glorious. Transcendent. We must be tethered to the realm of heaven, locked into the very presence of God.To keep our hearts pure, to keep them from choking, we must keep our eyes, our spirits, locked on Jesus. What does that really mean? It means setting our gaze upon His glory. Not the fleeting glory of man, but the eternal glory Jesus spoke of in John 17.
This glory speaks of intimacy, of nearness. To be one with Him, we must enter in. Into the secret place. Into the fire. Into the awe and wonder of His presence. We must be aware,truly aware, of who He is. Not in our intellect, not in our theology alone, but in the depths of our heart.”Did not our heart burn within us?” One heart. Undivided. United with Christ. United with the Father. Brought together in power by the Holy Spirit.
And when HE becomes our distraction, when His beauty is all we see, then our hearts become good soil. Then they burn, they shine, they glow with the radiance of His glory.So seek Him, brothers and sisters! Seek Him daily. Hunger after His righteousness with holy desperation. Know that the King of glory has made His home in you. And there is nothing,nothing, more urgent, more essential, more glorious, than allowing that glory to manifest in you… and shine through you to this desperate world.
Near to the heart of the Father, close to His warm embrace. It is the joy of my life to dwell in the warmth of His reflected glory, blazing from His radiant face. The world’s clamor fades into silence when we walk hand in hand with the Almighty. O beloved saint, never forget, our highest calling, our most priceless gift, is to walk in step with our Lord Jesus.
Do not let the storm outside shake what God has planted within you. Your spirit was born of heaven, fear has no claim there. Ask yourself today, is your spirit anchored in Him? The world may strip you of its fleeting riches, but it cannot touch the treasure we’ve found in Christ.
Let the noise of politics fall to the ground. Let the glitter of earthly gold lose its luster. Our true wealth lies in a place no thief can reach, in the eternal vaults of heaven. We may choose to give it away, but it cannot be taken from us.
Stand still. Behold the majesty of your God. Let His glory not only surround you, let it flow through you. From the overflow of a heart touched by Him, rivers of living water spill into the dry and barren places. Without this living water, the world is nothing but a wilderness.
So rise up, child of the Light and those who walk “the way.” Walk the Highway of Holiness. And let your light blaze before men, that they may see and glorify your Father in heaven.
It is a holy thing to know who you are in the Lord. To search the chambers of your own spirit with trembling , for the flesh is relentless, and is our most cunning foe. It creeps in as a whisper, yet departs in a tempest, tearing as it goes. But the Lord, ah, the Lord He speaks not in thunder, nor in the earthquake, but in that still, small voice. It is not the volume that stirs and shakes mountains, but the weight of the Word itself, Spirit-breathed, eternal.
For passion can rage like a sea in a storm, waves rising like giants, smashing all that dares to stand. But gaze upon the Christ before Pilate, Truth wrapped in silence, power clothed in meekness. Love’s boldness stood face to face with earthly might, yet never raised its voice in pride or vanity, the power of knowing.
If the message be truly of God, then it does not waver,it is unchanging, steadfast as His own Word. But the messenger? Oh, he is tested. Ridiculed. Wounded. Laid bare. He is stripped of self until he walks quietly, humbly, unknown to men, yet known to God. His heart beats not for applause but for obedience, to carry the fire he was given.
It is sweet, yes,so sweet,to hear His voice. But to speak it? That is often bitter. Bittersweet, the flavor of the prophetic path. Yet we must be faithful. Come storm or silence, come crowd or solitude,we must speak what He has spoken.
Let the waves crash, let the world rage. But let us walk on. One step in front of the other. One day at a time. Falling down but getting back up again. We can do all of this in Christ alone. In Him all things are possible and only by the power of the Holy Spirit can the message be delivered.
A Call To The Remnant 