In the fierce heart of every storm, there lies a sacred stillness , a place untouched by the chaos that rages all around. That stillness is Christ. He is not on the edge, not watching from afar , He is at the very center, the calm within the tempest, the anchor of our souls.
When we run to Him, we do not escape reality , we enter into a deeper one. We step into perfect peace, not because the storm ceases, but because the Prince of Peace reigns within it. But if we flee, if we try to outrun the storm in our own strength, we hurl ourselves into its fiercest winds. The resistance grows, the fear swells, and we are battered by every gust.
Brothers and sisters, run to the center. Run to Jesus. For in Him, the storm loses its power, and the winds fall silent in the shadow of His presence. He prepares a table for us in the heart of every storm. He causes us to lie down in green pastures , beside still waters. He anoints us with oil and restores us. This goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives.
The Pentecostal and Charismatic world has been shaped by movements such as “name it and claim it” and the so-called “word of faith” message. Add to that the prosperity gospel, and what remains is a witches brew, a kind of spiritual confusion brewed in our own theological cauldron. These movements have often shifted the focus of faith from trusting in God to demanding from God, turning faith into a formula for material gain rather than a pathway to spiritual depth. What was once a holy dependence on the sovereignty of God has, in many circles, become a technique for manipulating outcomes.
Yet Scripture offers a deeper, more sobering view. Depending on the translation, the word “faith,” appears around 270 times in the Bible. The vast majority of these references are not about miracles or breakthrough, but about trust, trust in God’s character, His promises, and His sovereign will.
Hebrews 11:6 says, “But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.”
The kind of faith that pleases God is not transactional, but relational. It is the quiet, unwavering confidence in who God is, even when heaven is silent and the way is dark.
Romans 8:8 reinforces this truth: “So then, those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” Faith and flesh are incompatible. One walks by sight, the other by belief. To walk in the flesh is, functionally, to walk without faith.
Romans 8:5 explains, “For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh.” The word mind here, phroneó, speaks of setting one’s affections, fixing one’s thoughts and desires. To “mind” the things of the flesh is to be consumed with the visible, temporal world. The Greek word for flesh, sarx, in this context means “the symbol of what is external.”
What does that look like in practical terms? It means being consumed with our careers, our possessions, our reputations, our politics, our social standing, our image, gaining our miracles, our health, rather than being absorbed in the things of God. A mind dominated by these mostly earthly concerns is incompatible with the Spirit-led life. Such a person is not walking in the Spirit, and therefore cannot please God. Being obsessed with miracles often flows, not from the heart of God, rather , it flows from the depths of our flesh.
“For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” (Romans 8:6)
The spiritual mind is one that seeks first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness (Matthew 6:33). It is a life oriented toward the eternal, not the temporary.
Hebrews 11, that great chapter of faith, gives us a dual picture. We rejoice in the stories of deliverance:
“By faith the walls of Jericho fell” (v.30), “Through faith they subdued kingdoms, worked righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions” (v.33). These are victories worth celebrating.
Yet the chapter shifts abruptly. “Others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection. Still others had trial of mockings and scourgings, yes, and of chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two… being destitute, afflicted, tormented, of whom the world was not worthy.” (vv.35–38)
The common thread?
“And all these, having obtained a good testimony through faith, did not receive the promise.” (v.39)
Their faith was not measured by immediate reward, but by enduring trust in the unseen. Job expressed it best:
“Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.” (Job 13:15)
Habakkuk echoes the same heart: “Though the fig tree may not blossom… yet I will rejoice in the Lord.” (Habakkuk 3:17–18)
This kind of faith is not swayed by trials or silence. It is rooted in relationship, not reward. Psalm 23 reminds us that God does not remove the enemies, but prepares a table in their midst.
“You anoint my head with oil, my cup runs over.” (Psalm 23:5) The oil flows not in times of ease, but in times of pressure. The true reward of faith is not what we receive, but who we receive—His presence.
“In Your presence is fullness of joy.” (Psalm 16:11)
The last 2,000 years of Church history bear witness to this truth. Millions have suffered for Christ, not because their faith failed, but because their faith endured. They possessed a spiritual mind and a heart anchored in another world. Their lives pleased God. Their testimonies still speak.
So the question is this: will you walk in the Spirit today? Will you cast aside the fleeting things of this world and set your affections on things above (Colossians 3:2)? Will you walk by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7)? Will you trust God even when there is no sign of deliverance?
This is the faith that pleases God. And without it, we cannot.
The apostolic revelation given to Paul, as recorded in Colossians 1:26, presents one of the most profound disclosures in redemptive history—a mystery once concealed from ages and generations, now gloriously revealed to the saints. This mystery, long hidden in the counsels of God, was not perceived by the prophets nor comprehended by the wise of this world. It is the astounding truth that in Christ Jesus, Jew and Gentile are no longer divided, but made one—a new humanity, a single body in the Messiah. This is the long-anticipated fulfillment of the promise to Abraham, that in his seed all the nations of the earth would be blessed. No merely ethnic boundary remains, for in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek. This is a revelation of cosmic consequence and divine ingenuity, wholly unforeseen in its breadth and intimacy.
Yet, astonishingly, the mystery deepens. As Paul continues in Colossians 2:2–3, he reveals that the purpose of this unity is not an end in itself, but a divine conduit by which the saints are brought into the very heart of God. He prays that their hearts might be encouraged, being knit together in love, and that they may attain to all the riches of the full assurance of understanding—to the knowledge of the mystery of God, both of the Father and of Christ.
Herein lies the surpassing dimension of the mystery: not merely reconciliation between former enemies, but an invitation into divine communion. In Christ are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Through union with Him, the veil is lifted and the Father—once unknowable and inscrutable—is made known. The mystery begins with the joining of the divided, but it climaxes in the revelation of the Divine. It is not only that Jew and Gentile are made one in Christ, but that in being made one, they are ushered into the very life of God.
This is the formation of the true Israel of God—a people sanctified, a royal priesthood, whose minds are being renewed and whose hearts are being enlarged by the Spirit. The saints are not left with mere doctrine, but are drawn into the riches of divine intimacy, discovering the boundless wisdom and knowledge hidden in Christ. This is the full arc of the mystery: reconciliation leading to revelation, unity giving way to glory, and the Church—Christ’s body—growing in grace as it beholds the face of God in the person of Jesus Christ.
One of the most tragic realities of the contemporary church, most glaringly within the American context, yet by no means confined to it, is the widespread absence of the new birth among professing Christians. This foundational deficiency renders it utterly impossible for such individuals to love as the early church loved, for the very source and sustainer of that love is Christ Himself. It is He who binds believers together in divine unity.
The church, properly understood, is not a building, a denomination, or an institution, it is the living body of Christ. And unless one has been joined to that body through regeneration, one simply does not belong to the Church in the true, biblical sense, the ekklesia, the “called-out ones.”
It is spiritual folly to expect those outside of Christ, unregenerate and untouched by the Spirit of God, to manifest the supernatural love that defined the earliest believers. This love flows not from religious duty or communal sentiment, but from the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit.
Oswald Chambers, in his meditations on the Sermon on the Mount, rightly observed that any attempt to live out Christ’s teachings apart from the new birth results in a miserable experience. For the unregenerate, the Sermon is not a light but a crushing burden, a lofty ideal that exposes the impossibility of genuine righteousness without divine transformation.
Religion, absent the life of Christ, becomes little more than a philosophy, a system of ethics, or a cultural form. It may produce momentary acts of kindness, but it cannot sustain the sacrificial, Spirit-wrought love of the saints. This love, that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, does not arise from human effort but from the supernatural work of God in the soul.
Thus, what many interpret as disunity in the church is, in truth, the presence of multitudes who are members of religious organizations, but not members of Christ’s body. They are, at best, moralists striving in their own strength, at worst, deceived souls clinging to the form of godliness while denying its power.
The Scriptures are not silent on this. “Many are called, but few are chosen” (Matthew 22:14). The remnant, the few, are the truly born again, those who love with a love not their own, who recognize one another not by label or denomination, but by the Spirit of Christ within. When these encounter one another, there is immediate fellowship, unfeigned and deeply rooted in shared life.
To expect widespread spiritual unity in a landscape dominated by nominalism is to set oneself up for continual disillusionment. Indeed, the gap between our expectations and the reality of the religious world around us is often the precise measure of our grief.
But if we understand this reality, that true unity and true love exist only among the regenerate few, we will cease to be disheartened by the failures of the masses and instead rejoice to find, here and there, a brother or sister truly alive in Christ. For these are the Church. These are the Body. These are the beloved of God.
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.
Some poor deluded folks think that by attending a church they are being disciples. Very sad. I’ve known disciples who attend a church, I’ve known disciples who gather together in small groups, I’ve even known disciples who meet just “where two or three are gathered,” but I’ve known very few disciples. They are the few. They are the remnant. Just as the Lord said it would be. The vast majority I’ve known are church goers, which is a world apart from disciples……bro Frank.
Charles Simeon 1759-1836 wrote…………
Isaiah 29:13, “The Lord says: These people come near to Me with their mouth and honor Me with their lips, but their hearts are far from Me!”
In our church services, we go through all the external bodily motions; but as to the prostration of the soul, we are for the most part oblivious and unconcerned. We think that we have done our duty to God, if we have gone through the appointed external rituals, though our heart has not accorded with the body in any part of the service. In truth, our services have been hypocritical throughout.
Had a stranger come into one of our church services, and overheard our glowing praises, and our solemn confessions, petitions, and thanksgivings–he would have supposed that we were the most humble, spiritual, and devout people in the universe!
But had he been privy to the real state of our hearts–then how little would he have seen: of earnest ardor in our praises, or of honest humiliation in our confessions, or of sincere fervor in our petitions, or of genuine gratitude in our thanksgivings!
He would see that the state of our hearts indicated that we felt nothing, and meant nothing–at the very time that we professed to mean so much and feel so much!
For the most part, he would have seen that the whole of our service was only a solemn mockery; that instead of being genuine worshipers of our majestic and holy God–for the most part, we were but insincere hypocrites!
Let me ask, in the name of God Himself: What reason you can have to think that God would accept such services as these?
If, indeed, God were like ourselves, and could see only the outward appearance, then we might hope that, being deceived by us–He would be pleased with us.
But when we bear in mind, that the omniscient God knows . . . our every secret thought, our every secret desire, our every secret motive, and that He perfectly searches our heart, and knows our thoughts–then we must be sure that our very services are an abomination in His sight!
“Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me! They worship Me in vain.” Mark 7:6, 7
J.C. Ryle: In all our Christian duties, whether giving or praying, the great thing to be kept in mind, is that we have a heart-searching and all-knowing God! Everything like mere formal worship, is abominable and worthless in God’s sight. The one thing which His all-seeing eye looks at, is the nature of our motives, and the state of our hearts!
“Serve Him with a whole heart and a willing mind; for the Lord searches all hearts, and understands every intent of the thoughts!” 1 Chronicles 28:9
Wayne Jacobsen writes in his book Finding Church ” I’d been living in church most of my life without recognizing her because I was too busy trying to create a version of my own. I’d tasted her reality in the closer friendships of virtually every congregation I had ever attended but because this was not part of the official program I didn’t see them as Church, it was a classic case of missing the forest for the trees and explained why we allowed the needs of the program displace those friendships.”
Now Wayne was a Pastor for decades. He has seen countless programs come and go and the conclusion that he has come to is that the needs of the programs over-ride and displace the creating of true fellowship. This has been my experience. If you have ever been involved in organizing anything, you will know that the reality of what you’re organizing takes over and the thing itself becomes the central focus. If there is one thing that I have learned in all my years as a Christian is that whatever distracts us from Christ Himself is the enemy of coming into His presence. Even as we go about our daily business, there is a reality of this world and there is a Kingdom reality and the reality of this world demands first place. It is immediate, it can be seen, it presses upon us and ignites our senses and demands to be attended to. The Kingdom reality is always there but never takes second place. If ignored, it simply fades into the background, retreats away from the noise of this world.
There is a revolution coming to the Body of Christ. You may or may not be ready for it but it is coming. When the colonists stood against Great Britain, they were defying the very order of things. It was inevitable that the establishment would come against them with great fury in an attempt to destroy them. Out of that revolution came the most powerful country the world has ever known.
If you study revival you will know that there are certain characteristics that are common to them all. There is a powerful tangible awareness of God’s presence. There is powerful and heartfelt prayer and supplication to a Holy God. There is weeping and repentance and salvation.There is glorious worship. There is a changing and a shaping of the society in which it takes place. It effects every walk of life in the geographical area in which it takes place, and often times its effects are more widespread than that, as visitors come and are changed by the presence of God and they take something of it back from whence they came. Now, there is a common characteristic to all revivals, there is a unique sense of unity. Now, in psalm 133 it says ” Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!” There is so much oil poured out that it runs down the priests, Aaron, beard and down over his garments, in short, all of him is covered by the oil. And there, the word says, the Lord commands a blessing and the blessing is life forevermore.
You cannot appease God by working for Him. You cannot become spiritual by keeping very active in some form of church activity, or the like. Gods cry and longing throughout the ages of eternity has been for a home, a resting place in a people made in His own image…. and God will not allow you to find rest in your own works. God will not allow you to rest until you find that rest in UNION WITH HIMSELF ALONE. (George Warnock, Feed My Sheep, pg 7)
You see what George is saying? God is looking for a home. He is looking to abide not just in the individual believer but in the Body of Christ that stands as one. No amount of work or activity can make this come to pass for unless the Lord builds the house then we labor in vain. What house does God want to abide in? He wants to abide in the Body of Christ. A collection of stones does not make a temple. Yes we need the stones and they must be cut from the quarry of this world and they must be taken and shaped.
A Call To The Remnant 