Ergates Ministry

07/10/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐇𝐢𝐦

Acts 17:26-27
And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us;

We often imagine our place in life as largely accidental: the family we were born into, the city we live in, the people around us, the opportunities available to us, and even some of the limitations we wish we could escape. Yet Paul offers another perspective: God has set the times and boundaries of our habitation so we might seek Him. There is divine intentionality behind much of what we call circumstance.

This makes me think of Elimelech. Bethlehem was experiencing famine, and Elimelech took his family to Moab in search of a better life. The Bible does not tell us that he sought the Lord before making the move. He saw the famine, responded to the famine, and left Bethlehem. In Moab, however, he died. His two sons also died, leaving Naomi bereaved. We must not presume that Scripture is declaring his relocation to be the direct cause of their deaths. But the story leaves us with a searching question: What if Elimelech had sought the Lord in Bethlehem before deciding that Bethlehem was no longer the place for him?

There is something particularly sobering about the fact that Bethlehem means house of bread, yet the house of bread was experiencing famine. Perhaps that is the point. Sometimes the place God has situated us may not look like the place where He can bless us. A famine does not necessarily mean that God has changed our address. A difficult marriage, an unpromising assignment, a troublesome environment, a season of scarcity, or an uncomfortable relationship may not always be instructions to leave. Sometimes they are invitations to seek God more deeply.

We are quick to pray, “Lord, take me out of here,” when perhaps the better prayer is, “Lord, what do You want me to discover about You here?” We can mistake discomfort for divine direction and convenience for confirmation. Not every open door is God’s door, and not every closed door is God’s rejection. Circumstances are real, but they are not always reliable interpreters of God’s will.

The people around us may also be part of this divine arrangement. Some will encourage us, some will test us, some will love us and some will wound us. Yet God can use even difficult relationships to teach us patience, forgiveness, humility, and dependence upon Him. We may spend years asking why God placed certain people in our path, when His purpose may have been that, through them, we would learn to seek Him.

This does not mean we should remain anywhere forever. There are times when God Himself says, “Arise, get out.” Abraham had to leave Ur. Israel eventually left Egypt. Paul changed locations many times under divine direction. The lesson is not never leave; it is never leave merely because circumstances have become uncomfortable without first seeking the One who situated you there.

Perhaps this is one of the great disciplines of the Christian life: learning to distinguish between circumstances that require endurance, circumstances that require prayer, and circumstances that require departure. The discerning believer does not allow famine to make any decision. He asks God.

Before you abandon Bethlehem for Moab, seek the Lord in Bethlehem. Before you conclude that your season has ended, seek Him. Before you blame the people around you, seek Him.
And before you run from an uncomfortable place, seek Him.

For the God who situated you knows why He situated you. And if His purpose is that you should seek Him, then even the place that feels like a wilderness can become the place where you find Him.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy is not being in the wrong place, but being in the right place and never seeking the God who put you there.

06/10/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝?

2 Timothy 1:7
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

Faith apprehends positivity, while fear apprehends the opposite. Both reach into the unseen and give substance to something that has not yet appeared. The difference is not necessarily the strength of the faculty, but the direction in which it is being exercised.

Think about it: when you fear something, you have already imagined it. You have mentally travelled into a future that hasn't happened and experienced the possibility as if it were real. Fear says, “What if it goes wrong?” and your heart begins to respond to that imagined reality. Faith does something remarkably similar, but in the opposite direction. Faith says, “God is able. God will make a way. His promise is true,” and begins to live from that conviction.

Perhaps, then, the question is not whether we know how to apprehend the unseen. We clearly do. The question is where we focus our apprehension. If you can fear, you can also walk in faith. If your imagination can rehearse disaster, it can also rehearse the faithfulness of God. If your heart can tremble at what might happen, it can learn to rest in what God has said.

This is why Scripture repeatedly calls us to look, consider, remember, and believe. Faith does not pretend that difficulties do not exist; it simply refuses to make them the final object of its apprehension. It sees the mountain, but it sees God above the mountain. It sees the storm, but it remembers who is in the boat.

Fear is faith pointed in the wrong direction. So when fear comes, perhaps the answer is not merely to tell yourself, “Stop being afraid.” Turn your apprehension. Look again. Move your attention from the possibility of failure to the character of God, from the size of the problem to the greatness of His promise, from “what if?” to “what has God said?”

The faculty is already there. Redirect it.

04/10/2026

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲
𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬?

Genesis 2:24
Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.

God’s idea of marriage is oneness. Two people leave their former family arrangements, cleave to each other, and begin a new life together. It is a beautiful divine design, but we have become selective in how we interpret what it means to be one. We embrace oneness when it is convenient, celebrate it when it serves our interests, and sometimes abandon it when money enters the conversation.

Many couples are one in their affection, one in raising their children, one in attending family functions, and one in presenting a united front to the world. But when money enters the picture, the language suddenly changes. The husband retreats into his financial corner, the wife secures hers, and both begin to protect their individual interests. It becomes a case of “to thine own tent, O Israel!” They are married, yet each person seems to be running a separate economic republic. They share a home, but when it comes to money, each is left to fend for themselves.

Now, let us be fair. Having separate bank accounts does not automatically mean a couple lacks unity. Some couples have good reasons for maintaining separate accounts while working together towards their common goals. The issue is not the number of accounts, but the condition of the hearts behind them. Are we transparent with each other? Do we make significant financial decisions together? Can one partner’s financial burden become the other’s concern without resentment? Does our money serve the marriage, or has the pursuit of individual financial security become more important than the well-being of the union?

One flesh must mean more than sharing a bed and a surname. It calls us to a shared vision, shared responsibilities, mutual trust, and a willingness to carry one another’s burdens. It does not mean that one spouse should become financially irresponsible or that the other must surrender all personal agency. It means that neither partner should live as though the other’s welfare is somebody else’s business. When one partner is struggling, the other should not stand aloof simply because the money belongs to a different account. Marriage is not a competition to see who can accumulate more while the other struggles. It is a partnership in which both learn to manage their resources with love, wisdom, and mutual consideration.

Dear husband, dear wife, what does oneness mean in your home? Can your spouse discuss money with you without fear, suspicion, or humiliation? Are there financial secrets that would shake the trust upon which your marriage stands? Does one partner enjoy financial comfort while the other carries the burden of family responsibilities alone? Remember, you are not competitors trying to preserve separate fortunes. You are partners building a life together. Your financial arrangements may differ from those of another couple, but neither partner should ever have to wonder whether the other cares about their welfare.

Here is the challenge: God said, “They shall become one flesh.” He did not say, “They shall become one flesh, except when the salary arrives.” You may have separate bank accounts and still be one flesh. But when money becomes a reason to withhold trust, deny support, or live as strangers under one roof, something is wrong. God did not bring two people together to build separate lives under the same roof. Money is a resource to be managed together, not a wall to be built between two hearts.

For Couples Only: building marriages where oneness is more than a convenient word.

03/10/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐨

2 Kings 3:14-15
And Elisha said, “As the LORD of hosts lives, before whom I stand, surely were it not that I regard the presence of Jehoshaphat king of Judah, I would not look at you, nor see you. But now bring me a musician.”
Then it happened, when the musician played, that the hand of the LORD came upon him.

A long time ago, my music teacher told us that music comes from one of two sources. I have carried that thought for years, but lately, I find myself returning to it with a little more seriousness. Could there be more to music than we have been willing to acknowledge? We know that music can stir emotions, awaken memories, calm troubled hearts, and influence the way we think. But Scripture suggests that music may also have a place in our spiritual experience.

Consider Elisha. When the kings came to seek a word from the Lord, the prophet requested a minstrel. As the musician played, the hand of the Lord came upon him, and he received the word he was to deliver. There is something worth pondering here. The music did not replace the Spirit of God, nor did the musician possess the power to summon God at will. Yet music accompanied a moment of spiritual significance. David's harp, too, brought relief to Saul when an evil spirit troubled him. Clearly, Scripture does not treat music as an insignificant part of human experience.

Perhaps we have been too casual about what enters our ears. We carefully consider what we eat, where we go, and sometimes even whom we associate with, yet we can spend hours listening to music without giving a thought to the spirit, values, and desires it cultivates in us. Lyrics celebrate something; rhythms and repeated messages can shape our appetites; and what we repeatedly entertain may gradually become familiar to our hearts. Not every song that moves the body nourishes the soul, and not every melody that sounds beautiful carries a message worth embracing.

We must, however, exercise discernment rather than fear. The Bible does not teach that every unfamiliar rhythm is demonic or that every secular song is spiritually dangerous. Music can express beauty, truth, sorrow, joy, and the wonder of God's creation. The question is not merely whether a song is religious, but what it communicates, what it encourages, and what it is doing to the listener. Does it feed the flesh at the expense of the spirit? Does it celebrate what God calls us to flee? Does it leave us more disposed to holiness, or does it steadily dull our spiritual sensitivity?

My dear friend, please mind what you listen to. You cannot always control every sound that reaches your ears, but you can exercise wisdom over what you repeatedly invite into your life. There is much more happening in the world of sound than entertainment alone, and we would do well to pay attention. Scripture tells us to test the spirits, guard our hearts, and set our minds on things above. Let us apply that same spiritual vigilance to our playlists.
There are strange things in the air, but we need not live in fear of them. We need the discernment to recognise what is helpful, the courage to reject what is harmful, and the wisdom to know the difference. Music is a gift; do not let the gift become a doorway through which anything and everything gains access to your heart.

Prayer: Lord, give me ears that hear wisely and a heart that discerns rightly. Let the sounds I welcome into my life draw me towards truth, purity, peace, and a deeper fellowship with You. Amen.

02/10/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭

Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
And lean not on your own understanding;
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He shall direct your paths.

As stated earlier, a Christian's true strength is the strength of his trust in God. It is the quiet source of his confidence, faith, and spiritual power. We are not strong because we understand everything, nor because we can control everything. We are strong because we have come to know the One who holds everything, and we have discovered that He can be trusted. And trust, like every other Christian virtue, grows. We do not begin our journey trusting God with everything; we grow into it.

At first, our trust is often conditional. We trust God when the answer is visible, when the road is clear, and when circumstances seem to agree with our prayers. But walking with God gradually introduces us to another level of trust: the trust that remains when the answer is delayed, when the road is unfamiliar, and when heaven appears silent. Every season in which God proves Himself faithful becomes another brick in the foundation of our confidence in Him.

Sometimes God grows our trust by allowing us to face things we cannot fix. We pray, we wait, we do what we can, and then we discover that the outcome is beyond our reach. It is uncomfortable, but it is also a classroom. We begin to learn that dependence upon God is not weakness. It is the very heart of the Christian life. Jesus Himself said, “Without Me ye can do nothing.” The gospel was never intended to produce a breed of people who have become so powerful that they no longer need God.

There are also times when God grows our trust by not giving us what we asked for. That may be one of His more difficult lessons. We would rather trust Him when He says yes, but mature trust learns to remain settled when His answer is no, not yet, or something entirely different from what we imagined. We eventually discover that trusting God means trusting His wisdom, not merely His ability to give us our desired outcome.

Then, almost imperceptibly, something changes within us. We begin to worry less about controlling the future. We become less disturbed by uncertainty. We stop needing to know every detail before we obey. We can pray boldly, work faithfully and wait patiently because beneath everything is a growing conviction: God knows what He is doing.

That is what growing in trust looks like. Not the absence of questions, difficulties or tears, but the increasing ability to walk through them without abandoning confidence in God. The mature Christian is not necessarily the person who has fewer problems; he is the person who has learned where to put them.

Perhaps that is why some of the things we once considered interruptions become, in retrospect, some of God’s finest instruments for spiritual growth. The closed door taught us trust. The long wait taught us trust. The disappointment taught us trust. The season we could not understand taught us trust. And when we look back, we may discover that God was not merely taking us through those seasons, He was using them to teach us to know Him better.

Trust grows by walking with God.

And the more we walk with Him, the less we need to see the whole road before taking the next step. Then you become the blessed one, who having not seen, yet believes.

Growing in trust is growing in strength.

01/10/2026

30/09/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭

Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
And lean not on your own understanding;
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He shall direct your paths.

The true strength of a Christian is the strength of his trust in God. It is the quiet source from which confidence, faith, and spiritual power flow. We are not strong because we understand everything, nor because we can control what happens around us. We are strong because we have learned that the One who holds our lives is trustworthy. Trust gives the heart somewhere to rest when the mind has run out of answers.

Like all Christian virtues, trust grows. Nobody begins the Christian journey trusting God perfectly. We trust Him with some things and hold tightly to others. We believe Him when the road is familiar, but become anxious when He leads us into places we have never been. Yet every answered prayer, every unexpected provision, every closed door that later proves to have been mercy, and every season through which He carries us becomes another lesson in the school of trust.

Eventually, we begin to discover that faith is not merely believing that God can; it is becoming settled that God will do what is right, even when what He does is not what we expected. That is a deeper place. It is where confidence ceases to depend upon circumstances. We pray boldly, we work faithfully, we hope earnestly, but beneath it all is a settled heart that says, “Father, I trust You.”

Perhaps this is why some of life’s hardest seasons become some of God’s finest classrooms. They teach us what sermons cannot teach us: that His presence is more reliable than our circumstances, His wisdom greater than our understanding, and His faithfulness longer than our waiting. The child who has learned to trust his father does not need to understand every decision the father makes. He knows whose hand he is holding.

There comes a time in our walk with God when we stop asking Him merely to give us what we want and begin asking Him to teach us to trust Him with whatever He gives, or does not give. That is growth. Trust becomes less about getting God to do something for us and more about becoming so acquainted with Him that we are at peace in His hands.

The strongest Christian, therefore, may not be the one who appears to have the greatest power, the loudest prayer, or the most impressive testimony. He may be the one who, after all he has seen and all he has survived, can still quietly say, “I trust You, Lord.” And perhaps that is strength in its purest form.

So, if you know a school of trust, please enroll. Because trust grows and it can be learned. I know the best school there is, it is called Life.

29/09/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝

John 15:2
Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.

In the few years I have walked this journey, I have discovered something about God's dealings with His servants: God wants our undivided attention. Not merely our availability, not merely our gifts, not merely our public ministry, but our hearts. He will not always compete indefinitely with the things that have quietly taken His place.

Sometimes He deals with those things gently. At other times, He deals with them surgically.

The surgeon does not cut because he hates the body; he cuts because he loves the body enough to remove what threatens its health. So it is sometimes with God. He may remove a person, close a door, interrupt a relationship, take away an opportunity, frustrate a plan, or strip us of something we've come to depend on. It can feel cruel while it is happening. We may even ask, “Lord, why this?” Only later do we discover that what we called a loss was actually a pruning.

Not everything God removes is necessarily bad. That is the uncomfortable part. Some things are good things that have simply occupied too much space. Some people may have been precious to us but were not meant to accompany us into the next season. Some opportunities may have been legitimate but distracting. Even success can become an obstacle when the servant begins to give more attention to the work of God than to the God of the work.

There are seasons when God seems to put us in a holy wilderness, not because He has abandoned us, but because He is removing the noise. Moses had to leave Egypt. Elijah had his brook Cherith. Paul spent time in Arabia. Jacob was left alone before Peniel. Again and again, Scripture shows us servants brought into places where the voice of God becomes clearer because the voices around them have become fewer.

I have reached a place where I am actually grateful for some of the people who left and some of the dreams that were aborted. At the time, I could not understand the surgery. I mourned some of the departures and wondered why certain dreams refused to survive. But looking back, I can see that some of those empty spaces became sacred spaces. In losing some things, I gained something far more precious: I am getting to know Him better and better.

Perhaps that is the real purpose of the pruning, not simply to make us more productive servants, but to make us more intimate with the One we serve. There is a difference between knowing about God and knowing God. The former can be accumulated through study, ministry, and experience; the latter is often deepened in the places where God removes our substitutes and leaves us with Himself.

So I find myself praying a rather unusual prayer these days: Lord, if there is still anything in me that competes with You, continue the surgery. Remove whatever must go. Cut away whatever keeps me from hearing You clearly, loving You wholly, and walking with You freely. I no longer want to cling to what You are trying to remove simply because I once called it a dream.

I have learned that the hand that removes is the same hand that heals. The wound may be painful, but the Surgeon is trustworthy.

If pruning is what it takes to know Him better, then Lord, let the surgery continue.

28/09/2026

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲
𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

An old couple I have known for almost all of my ministerial life were speaking at a conference. They have been married for almost sixty years, and as I listened to them share a couple of simple lessons from their long journey together, I found myself thinking, these things may be simple, but they are certainly not shallow.

They shared two things they believed had helped make their marriage healthy and joy-filled.

The first was learning to live together without any hint of ego-centric selfishness.

How much trouble we could save ourselves if we understood this! Marriage becomes exhausting when two people are constantly asking, “What about me?” My comfort. My rights. My money. My time. My way. My needs. My feelings. Eventually, the marriage becomes a negotiation between two competing kingdoms.

Love cannot flourish where everybody is determined to protect his or her own territory. Marriage requires the death of a certain kind of selfishness, the willingness to consider the other person, to give way sometimes, to serve, to accommodate, and to remember that marriage is not about two people trying to win against each other. It is about two people learning how to win together.

Their second lesson was equally simple: know how to give and receive forgiveness.

Think about it. Almost sixty years with one person! Surely there have been misunderstandings, disappointments, careless words, failures and moments when one hurt the other. There is no way two imperfect people can share a life for that long without needing forgiveness.

Some marriages do not die because the original offence was so great. They die because nobody knows how to let it go.

There are couples still fighting battles that happened twenty years ago. The offence has become part of the marriage furniture. It is brought out whenever there is another disagreement: “And don’t forget what you did in 2008!” At some point, the marriage becomes less about the person you married and more about the history of what they have done wrong.

Forgiveness is not pretending that nothing happened. It is refusing to make yesterday the permanent landlord of tomorrow.

And receiving forgiveness requires humility too. Sometimes the hardest words in marriage are not “I forgive you,” but “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Pride has destroyed many homes that love might otherwise have saved.

I have known this couple for almost all of my ministerial life, and after nearly sixty years of marriage, their wisdom did not sound sophisticated. It sounded almost embarrassingly simple. Perhaps that is because the deepest truths often are.

Don’t make everything about yourself. Learn to forgive. Learn to receive forgiveness.

Ageless truths.
They worked for them.
And I suspect they can still work today.

27/09/2026

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭
𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝟐

John 15:5
“I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.

My writer friend Emmanuel called it re-evangelizing the Church. I call it re-discovering the Gospel. Whatever name we give it, I believe this is a task the whole Church must deliberately focus on, especially in times such as these.

Perhaps one thing we need to rediscover is what the Gospel is actually designed to produce. It is not meant to manufacture a new species of humanity so powerful, so self-sufficient and so spiritually accomplished that it can eventually live without God. Yet sometimes, listening to the language of contemporary Christianity, one could almost imagine that this is the destination: become strong, become wealthy, become influential, overcome every obstacle, conquer your enemies, fulfil your potential: and somewhere along the way, God becomes the heavenly assistant to a very successful human being. But that is not the Gospel Jesus gave us.

The Gospel is Christ-centred. Not merely Christ-assisted. Not Christ-enhanced. Not Christ added to an otherwise complete human life. Christ is the life. Jesus did not say, “Without Me you can do less.” He said, “Without Me you can do nothing.” That is a devastating statement to the religion of human self-sufficiency. It reminds us that the Christian life is not a graduation from dependence upon God; it is a deeper and deeper discovery of our dependence upon Him.

The mature Christian is therefore not the person who has become so spiritually powerful that he no longer needs God. Quite the opposite. Maturity may actually look like a growing awareness of how desperately we need Him. The more we know Him, the less impressed we become with our own strength. The more Christ increases, the less room there is for boasting. We do not outgrow our need for Jesus. We grow into a greater appreciation of it.

This is why the Gospel must never become a celebration of man at the expense of God. Our faith is not ultimately about discovering how extraordinary we are. It is about discovering how extraordinary He is, and learning to live from Him, through Him and unto Him.

There is nothing wrong with excellence, influence, prosperity, achievement or strength. But when these become the evidence by which we measure the success of the Gospel, we have quietly moved the centre from Christ to man. The Gospel may help us become better husbands, better wives, better parents, better leaders and better citizens, but its deepest work is even greater: it brings us back to God.

Perhaps this is part of what it means to rediscover the Gospel. We must return to the Jesus who said, “Follow Me.” The Jesus who said, “Abide in Me.” The Jesus who said, “Without Me you can do nothing.” The Christian does not eventually become independent of the Vine. He learns to abide more deeply in it.

The times are evil, and the Church certainly needs to rediscover her mission. But perhaps before we ask what the Church should do, we must rediscover whom the Church is for.

It is Christ. Not our platforms. Not our denominations. Not our personalities. Not our empires. Not even our success. Christ.

And when the Church finds Him again, she may also rediscover herself.