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09/01/2026

Today’s Proverb: Proverbs 1:20–23

“Wisdom shouts in the street, she lifts her voice in the square; at the head of the noisy streets she cries out; at the entrance of the gates in the city she utters her sayings: ‘How long, O naive ones, will you love being simple-minded? And scoffers delight themselves in scoffing and fools hate knowledge? Turn to my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit on you; I will make my words known to you.’”

There is something beautiful about the way wisdom is pictured here because she isn't hiding somewhere waiting for especially intelligent people to discover her. She is shouting in the street, raising her voice in the public square, standing where everyone can hear her and saying, in effect, “I'm right here.” The problem Solomon describes isn't that God has made wisdom impossibly difficult to find. The problem is that we can become so committed to our own way of seeing things that we don't want to hear what wisdom is saying.

Notice the progression Solomon describes. The naive love being naive, the scoffers delight in scoffing, and fools hate knowledge. These aren't merely intellectual problems. Solomon is describing what people love. Somewhere along the way, foolishness stops being something we accidentally do and becomes something we protect because we have grown comfortable with it. We don't merely misunderstand; we begin loving our own understanding enough that correction feels like an intrusion.

That makes the next sentence incredibly important: “Turn to my reproof.” Wisdom isn't merely offering us additional information to consider. She is calling us to change direction. There may be something I believe, value, desire, or practice that God says is wrong, and wisdom begins when I am willing to turn because I trust Him more than I trust myself. That is why Proverbs will repeatedly connect wisdom with humility. The greatest obstacle to wisdom may not be ignorance at all. It may be my unwillingness to consider that God is right and I am wrong.

This is where our relationship with our Father becomes so important. If I see correction primarily as condemnation, I will naturally defend myself from it, but if I know the One correcting me loves me, reproof begins to look very different. A loving father doesn't warn his child because he enjoys pointing out everything the child is doing wrong. He warns him because he sees something the child doesn't see. The child may not understand why his father says, “Don't go that way,” but if he knows his father's heart, he doesn't need complete understanding before changing direction. He can simply say, “Okay,” and follow.

Then comes what may be the most beautiful part of the passage: “Turn to my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit on you; I will make my words known to you.” There is a connection between turning and understanding. Wisdom doesn't say, “Understand everything I am telling you, decide whether you agree with it, and then perhaps turn.” She says, “Turn,” and then, “I will make my words known to you.” Some understanding apparently waits on the other side of obedience.

That sounds remarkably similar to what Jesus later says in John 7:17: “If anyone is willing to do His will, he will know of the teaching.” We often want the order reversed. We want God to explain Himself thoroughly enough that we can evaluate His wisdom, agree that His command makes sense, and then obey. But Jesus suggests that there are things we come to understand because we were willing to obey. Sometimes we have to take our Father's hand and start walking before we discover why He chose that particular road.

And perhaps something even more relational happens along the way. Following Him doesn't merely help us understand His teaching; following Him helps us know Him. I say “Okay” when He corrects me, change direction, and then experience something of His wisdom that I couldn't have experienced while standing still arguing with Him. I discover that He really did see something I couldn't see, that His direction really was good, and that the Father correcting me really was acting in love.

That experience changes the next moment of correction because now I know Him a little better. Following Him has led me into knowing Him, knowing Him causes me to love and trust Him more, and loving and trusting Him makes me increasingly willing to follow the next time His wisdom contradicts mine. What began as obedience becomes relationship, and the relationship makes deeper obedience increasingly natural.

This also changes the way we receive correction from one another. Sometimes the wisdom shouting in the street may reach us through a brother or sister who sees something we don't. They may not say it perfectly, and we may initially disagree with what they see, but wisdom doesn't require us to immediately defend ourselves. We can listen carefully, bring what was said before our Father, and ask Him whether there is something He wants us to see. A wise person isn't someone who agrees with every criticism; a wise person is someone who remains genuinely correctable.

Perhaps that is why scoffing is so dangerous. The scoffer has found a way to dismiss the message without seriously considering it. He can mock the person speaking, question motives, find flaws in the delivery, or explain why the person correcting him doesn't understand the situation. Scoffing allows us to feel superior without ever having to ask the frightening but liberating question, “Father, is this true?”

The invitation at the beginning of Proverbs is therefore wonderfully hopeful. God isn't reluctant to give us wisdom. Wisdom is shouting. Our Father wants to teach us, correct us, and make His ways known to us. The question is whether we want His wisdom badly enough to turn when it contradicts ours.

Perhaps as we begin another journey through Proverbs, that should be our posture for the entire month. We aren't simply reading a chapter each day looking for an interesting thought. We are meeting with our Father and asking Him to show us something that may actually require a response. We want more than information because we want Him. If understanding follows obedience, then every proverb becomes an opportunity to take His hand, say “Okay,” and discover something more about the Father we are following.

As we meet with our Father today, perhaps we should pray, “Father, give me something to do today, and whatever You ask of me, my answer is already, ‘Okay.’ Don't let me become so comfortable with my own understanding that I resist Your correction. When Your wisdom contradicts mine, remind me that I know the heart of the One speaking to me. I trust You enough to turn before I understand everything. Make me easy to correct and quick to obey, because I don't merely want to know Your words; I want to know You. As I follow You, let me know You more deeply, and as I know You more deeply, let me love and trust You more, until hearing Your correction becomes another opportunity to take my Father's hand and follow.”

08/31/2026

Today’s Proverb: Proverbs 31:30

“Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.”

There is something fascinating about the way Proverbs ends. After thirty-one chapters teaching us how to recognize wisdom and foolishness, Solomon leaves us with a warning about how easily we can be fooled by what we see on the outside. “Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.” We naturally notice charm and beauty quickly because both can be experienced almost immediately, but neither necessarily tells us very much about the person standing in front of us.

Charm is particularly interesting because Solomon actually calls it deceitful. Charm is the ability to create a favorable impression, and the impression may even be sincere, but it can cause us to believe we know something about a person's character that we really don't know at all. Someone can be funny, engaging, warm, attractive, articulate, confident, and extraordinarily enjoyable to be around while being selfish, dishonest, proud, or completely untrustworthy. The outside has told us something about how that person makes us feel, but it hasn't necessarily told us who that person is.

Beauty has a similar limitation. Solomon doesn't call beauty evil; he calls it vain, something fleeting and unable to carry the weight we so easily place upon it. Physical beauty can attract us powerfully, but attraction is not knowledge. Looking at someone can tell us that we find that person beautiful, but it cannot tell us whether that person is faithful, compassionate, truthful, humble, courageous, generous, or trustworthy. Those things can only be discovered through relationship.

Perhaps this exposes something important about the way we sometimes love people. We can confuse loving someone with loving the way that person makes us feel. Charm makes me feel good. Beauty attracts me. Someone's attention makes me feel valued, and someone's affection makes me feel wanted. None of those things are necessarily wrong, but they are all experiences happening inside me. If I am not careful, I can become convinced that I deeply love someone when much of what I actually love is what I experience when that person is near me.

Really knowing someone takes time because character reveals itself through life. I learn who you are by watching what you do when telling the truth costs you something, how you treat people who cannot give you anything, what happens when you are corrected, how you respond when you don't get what you want, whether you keep your word when keeping it becomes inconvenient, and what you do with the needs of people around you. Charm can be experienced in minutes. Character is discovered through relationship.

That makes the contrast at the end of the verse much more significant: “But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.” The most valuable thing about this woman isn't something you can determine by looking at her. It is something happening inside her relationship with God. She knows Him, trusts Him, loves Him, and has oriented her life toward Him. Over time that invisible relationship becomes visible because who she is with God eventually affects who she becomes with everyone else.

This is the Inside/Out life we have been seeing throughout Proverbs. The world naturally teaches us to evaluate life from the outside in. We see what is attractive, impressive, successful, pleasurable, or desirable and then allow those things to shape what we value. God works in the opposite direction. He restores the person from within, and what begins in relationship with Him gradually works its way outward into our words, choices, relationships, generosity, faithfulness, and love.

That should change not only what we want to become but what we learn to value in other people. If I evaluate people primarily according to how they look, how charismatic they are, how successful they appear, or even how they make me feel, I am making enormously important judgments based upon things that tell me very little about who they actually are. Wisdom learns to look deeper. What does this person love? What does this person trust? How does this person treat people? What happens when nobody is watching? Most importantly, what is happening between this person and God?

Jesus continually saw people this way. The religious leaders could appear extraordinarily impressive from the outside, but Jesus repeatedly looked through the appearance to what was happening in their hearts. Meanwhile, people whose lives looked unimpressive or even disgraceful to everyone around them could draw near to Him because Jesus wasn't fooled by the categories people used to evaluate one another. He saw the person.

That should make us ask an uncomfortable question about ourselves as well. What do I want people to find attractive about me? It is easy to spend enormous amounts of energy managing what other people see. We can manage our appearance, reputation, accomplishments, personality, public spirituality, and even the version of ourselves we present to other believers. We can become very skilled at producing an impression while paying much less attention to the person underneath it.

But our Father already sees underneath it.

He isn't charmed by our charm, impressed by our appearance, or fooled by our reputation. He knows us completely, including the things we would prefer nobody else ever discovered, and remarkably, He loves us there. We don't have to construct an attractive version of ourselves to persuade Him to want us. Through Jesus, He has already demonstrated how far His love will go to reconcile us to Himself.

That gives us tremendous freedom. If I know that my Father sees me completely and loves me, I don't need to spend my life trying to manufacture something impressive on the outside. I can allow Him to change what is actually happening inside. Instead of asking, “How do I look?” I can begin asking, “Father, who am I becoming as I walk with You?”

And once again, relationship is where that transformation happens. I follow Him because I trust Him, and as I follow Him I come to know Him more deeply. Knowing Him more deeply causes me to love Him more, and loving Him more makes me want to follow Him more nearly. Over time, that relationship begins producing something far more valuable than charm because it produces character. People who truly know us begin encountering something that wasn't manufactured for them to see but grew naturally from walking with our Father.

Perhaps Proverbs ends here because wisdom eventually teaches us to see differently. The fool is easily impressed by appearances, while wisdom learns to look beneath them. Charm may capture our attention and beauty may attract our eyes, but neither deserves our trust simply because of what it makes us feel. Character must be known, and the character most worthy of praise grows from a life increasingly centered upon God.

So perhaps today's question isn't simply whether we are attractive, charming, impressive, or well thought of. The better question is what someone would discover after knowing us long enough for all of those things to stop mattering. When the charm has worn off, when beauty has faded, when accomplishments have been forgotten, and when someone has seen us on our best and worst days, what remains? Hopefully they discover someone who knows God, loves Him, trusts Him, and has been changed by walking with Him.

As we meet with our Father today, perhaps we should pray, “Father, give me something to do today, and whatever You ask of me, my answer is already, ‘Okay.’ Teach me not to evaluate people merely by what I see or by how they make me feel. Help me to love people for who they actually are and to value the character that can only be discovered through relationship. Thank You that You already know everything beneath my own appearance and still love me completely. I don't want to spend my life creating an impressive outside. I want to follow You more nearly, know You more deeply, and love You more completely until the relationship we share changes who I actually am. Let the people who truly know me discover not an image I carefully created, but the character You have formed in me as I have walked with You.”

08/30/2026

Today’s Proverb: Proverbs 30:7–9

“Two things I asked of You, do not refuse me before I die: Keep deception and lies far from me, give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is my portion, that I not be full and deny You and say, ‘Who is the LORD?’ Or that I not be in want and steal, and profane the name of my God.”

There is something wonderfully revealing about this prayer because the writer isn't primarily asking God to arrange circumstances that will make his life comfortable. He is thinking about his relationship with God and asking Him to protect that relationship from anything that might interfere with it. Even his request concerning money isn't really about money. His concern is what abundance or poverty might do to his trust in God because knowing Him, loving Him, and remaining close to Him matter more than having either more or less.

The first request is equally relational: “Keep deception and lies far from me.” So much deception begins when we are trying to protect something. We want to protect our reputation, avoid someone's disappointment, escape consequences, or preserve the version of ourselves we want other people to see. The writer wants none of that interfering with his walk with God. He wants truth even when truth costs him something because he trusts God enough not to need deception to protect himself, and he loves God enough not to want anything false standing between them.

Then comes the remarkable request: “Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is my portion.” At first this can sound like a prayer for comfortable middle-class living: don't let me be poor, but don't make me excessively wealthy either. Just give me enough so that I can live comfortably and securely. But the explanation that follows shows us something much deeper. His concern isn't finding the financial sweet spot that makes life easiest. He is concerned about anything that might tempt him away from dependence upon the God he loves.

At its deepest level, this isn't really a prayer about money at all. It is a prayer about love. The writer values his relationship with God so much that he would rather have less and remain close to Him than possess abundance that might slowly teach his heart to live without Him. He is essentially saying, “Father, I would rather have You and need You than have abundance and slowly forget You. If riches would make me stop reaching for Your hand, don't give me riches. If having today's portion keeps me walking closely with You tomorrow, then today's portion is enough.”

Underneath that prayer is also tremendous trust because the writer believes God loves him too. “Feed me with the food that is my portion” assumes that God knows what his portion should be. His Father knows what he needs materially, but He also knows what is genuinely good for him and what might harm the relationship they share. This isn't reluctant dependence upon a God who wants to keep His child needy. It is the peaceful dependence of someone who trusts the heart of the Father whose hand provides for him.

The writer understands something about riches that Jesus would later teach with extraordinary force. Wealth can create the illusion that we no longer need God because savings provide security, possessions provide comfort, resources provide options, and accumulated wealth promises protection against an uncertain future. The writer fears becoming “full” and eventually saying, “Who is the LORD?” He doesn't necessarily mean that he will suddenly become an atheist. The much subtler danger is that his life will begin answering the question for him. He may continue saying that he loves and trusts God while increasingly arranging his life so that he rarely needs to trust Him.

That should make us uncomfortable when we read Jesus' words in Matthew 6 because Jesus doesn't merely warn us against becoming emotionally attached to wealth. He says, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,” and then explains that “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” He tells us that we cannot serve God and wealth and then immediately begins talking about our Father. “Your heavenly Father feeds them.” “Your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.” The alternative to trusting wealth isn't insecurity. It is trusting Someone.

That makes Jesus' teaching deeply relational. He isn't calling us away from earthly security so that we can spend our lives frightened about whether our needs will be met. He is calling us away from trusting possessions and into trusting a Father who already knows what we need and loves us. The question isn't merely whether I believe God exists or even whether I believe He is capable of providing. The question is whether I know Him well enough to trust His heart when He asks me to release the things I have been using to make myself feel secure.

Proverbs 30 helps us see the relational issue underneath Jesus' command. Wealth can quietly take over one of the roles that belongs to our Father. It can become the thing we look toward and think, “Now I'm okay. Whatever happens, I have enough.” The writer loves God enough to recognize the danger and essentially prays, “Don't give me anything that would become a substitute for You.” He would rather continue depending upon God than possess enough to create the illusion that dependence is no longer necessary.

This also helps us hear Jesus' words in Luke 14:33 without immediately trying to make them less demanding: “So then, none of you can be My disciple who does not give up all his own possessions.” Jesus isn't trying to make His followers poor for the sake of poverty. He is calling us out of divided allegiance because we cannot learn to live as children completely dependent upon our Father while simultaneously constructing another source of security designed to make us feel independent of Him. The issue isn't merely what is in our hands. The issue is whether something in our hands has begun occupying a place in our hearts that belongs to our Father.

The other side of the prayer matters just as much: “That I not be in want and steal, and profane the name of my God.” Poverty carries its own temptation because need can make us afraid, and fear can tempt us to stop trusting our Father just as surely as abundance can. One person says, “I have plenty, so I don't need God,” while another says, “I don't have enough, so I must take care of myself.” The circumstances are opposite, but both temptations invite us to stop trusting the Father who loves us and take control ourselves.

The writer therefore asks for something much better than riches: “Feed me with the food that is my portion.” There is a beautiful simplicity in that request because he is asking God to give him what He knows he needs. It sounds remarkably similar to the prayer Jesus later taught His disciples: “Give us this day our daily bread.” The prayer isn't for enough stored away that we can finally stop depending upon God. It is the prayer of someone willing to receive today's provision from his Father's hand because he trusts that the same loving Father will still be there tomorrow.

That sounds very much like a child who loves his father and knows that his father loves him. The child doesn't experience dependence as a burden because dependence means relationship. He wakes up expecting breakfast not because he has analyzed his father's finances but because he knows his father. He receives what his father gives because he trusts the heart behind the hand that gives it, and tomorrow he will need his father again. That isn't something he is trying to outgrow because he loves being with his father. The tragedy would not be continuing to need him; the tragedy would be accumulating enough that he began believing he didn't.

Perhaps this is why Jesus' teaching about wealth can feel so frightening to us. We may agree intellectually that God provides while still wanting enough stored away that we won't actually need Him to provide. We want to trust our Father, but we also want a backup plan in case His provision doesn't arrive in the form or at the time we expect. Proverbs 30 exposes something remarkable about that desire because the writer actually asks God to protect him from possessing enough to forget what dependence feels like. He would rather need the Father he loves than possess enough wealth to feel independent of Him.

That doesn't mean money itself is evil or that receiving more than we need today creates a problem. The question becomes what happens when our Father places surplus into our hands. Instead of turning what is beyond our needs into stored security for ourselves, surplus becomes an opportunity to love. We can become the means through which our Father provides for another one of His children. What He places into our hands can keep moving outward rather than becoming a wall of security between us and dependence upon Him.

Once again, this brings us back to following our Father. Jesus may ask us to do something with our possessions that appears foolish according to the wisdom of the world, and our instinct may immediately begin calculating what could happen tomorrow if we obey today. Childlike faith doesn't require knowing how our Father will provide tomorrow before obeying Him today. We know the One whose hand we are holding, we know that He loves us, and we are learning that His wisdom is better than ours. When He says, “Give,” we can therefore say, “Okay,” not because we have calculated every possible outcome but because we trust the Person asking us to follow.

Then something beautiful continues happening in the relationship. We follow Him because we trust Him, and as we follow Him we experience His love and come to know Him more deeply. Knowing Him more deeply causes us to love Him more, and loving Him more makes us want to follow Him more nearly. Each act of trust gives us another experience with our Father, and each experience teaches us more about the heart behind the hand we are holding.

Perhaps Proverbs 30 therefore gives us a very different prayer from the one our culture teaches us to pray. Instead of asking, “Father, give me enough so that I will never have to worry about tomorrow,” we can say, “Father, I love You, and I know You love me. I trust You to know what I need better than I do. Please don't give me anything that would cause me to stop reaching for Your hand. Give me what You know is good for me, and don't let Your gifts ever become substitutes for You.”

As we meet with our Father today, perhaps we should pray, “Father, give me something to do today, and whatever You ask of me, my answer is already, ‘Okay.’ Keep deception and lies far from me, and don't allow me to build security anywhere except in You. I love You, Father, and I am beginning to understand how deeply You love me. Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me what You know I need and teach me to receive it from Your hand with gratitude. If You place more than I need into my hands, show me who needs it and make me willing to let it keep moving. I don't want anything You give me to become more precious than the One who gave it. I want to follow You more nearly because as I follow You I come to know You more deeply, and as I know You more deeply I love and trust You more. Please don't give me anything that would cause me to stop reaching for Your hand.”

08/29/2026

Today’s Proverb: Proverbs 29:25

“The fear of man brings a snare,
But he who trusts in the LORD will be exalted.”

There is a wonderfully simple contrast in this proverb. Solomon places the fear of people on one side and trust in God on the other. That suggests that the opposite of fearing people isn't becoming tougher, more confident, or less concerned about what anyone thinks of us. The answer to the fear of man is trusting God. When I am afraid of what another person might think, say, do, or take away from me, the deeper question becomes whether I trust my Father enough to obey Him anyway.

The word “snare” is important because a snare doesn't usually look dangerous to the animal approaching it. If it did, the animal would simply avoid it. A snare works because something desirable draws the animal into a trap it doesn't recognize until it is caught. The fear of man can work exactly that way. Wanting people to like us, respect us, approve of us, remain our friends, or think well of us doesn't initially seem particularly dangerous. In fact, some of those desires can be perfectly natural, but once another person's approval begins influencing whether I will obey Jesus, something that looked harmless has become a trap.

We see this throughout Scripture. Peter's denial of Jesus is an obvious example. Peter loved Jesus and had boldly insisted that he was prepared to go with Him even to death, but when following Jesus suddenly threatened Peter personally, fear took control. A servant girl recognized him, others began asking questions, and Peter found himself weighing allegiance to Jesus against what might happen if the people around him knew the truth. For those few moments, their response mattered more to him than faithfulness to the One he loved, and the snare closed around him.

We can easily do the same thing without ever verbally denying Jesus. Jesus may tell us to do something clearly, but then we begin calculating how obedience will affect our relationships, reputation, security, or future. What will my family think? What will my friends say? Will people misunderstand me? Will someone become angry? Will I lose a relationship I value? Will people think I am foolish or extreme? Those questions may be understandable, but they become dangerous when the answers determine whether we will follow Jesus.

Sometimes the fear of man even disguises itself as wisdom. We tell ourselves that we are simply considering how our decisions affect others, protecting important relationships, avoiding unnecessary conflict, or being reasonable. Certainly love requires us to consider other people, but love for people and fear of people are very different things. Love asks, “What is genuinely good for this person?” Fear asks, “What will this person think of me?” Love can tell someone the truth even when the truth may temporarily hurt the relationship, while fear often remains silent because preserving the relationship has become more important than obeying Jesus.

That distinction can be difficult to recognize because fear of man often feels like love. We may say that we don't want to hurt someone when what we really mean is that we don't want to experience their disappointment. We may say that we are protecting a relationship when we are actually protecting ourselves from rejection. We may even convince ourselves that disobedience is compassionate because obedience would create pain. Solomon cuts through all of that by asking us where our trust actually rests.

Jesus brings this into even sharper focus because He never promised that following Him would preserve every human relationship. He said things that are uncomfortable precisely because He knew how powerful those relationships can become in competing for our allegiance. When He tells us that anyone who comes to Him must hate father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, and even his own life in comparison with Him, He isn't commanding hostility toward our families. He is establishing an order of allegiance in which no human relationship is allowed to occupy the place that belongs to Him.

That is where the fear of man becomes much more than insecurity. At its deepest level, it can become an allegiance problem. If I know what Jesus has said but refuse to obey because I am afraid of losing someone's approval, then in that moment the person whose response I fear is exercising more authority over my decision than Jesus is. I may still call Jesus Lord, but I have allowed someone else's reaction to determine what I will actually do.

The answer isn't to care less about people. It is to trust our Father more.

A child walking with his loving father may hear people along the road telling him that his father is taking him in the wrong direction. They may laugh at him, warn him, criticize his father, or even tell him that he is foolish for following. The child doesn't need enough wisdom to defeat every argument they make. He simply needs to know the hand he is holding. He knows enough about his father to keep walking with him.

That is becoming such an important picture of discipleship. We don't need to understand everything Jesus asks before following Him, and we don't need everyone around us to approve before saying “Okay.” We know enough about our Father to trust Him. Then, as we follow Him, we come to know Him more deeply. Knowing Him causes us to love Him more, and loving Him more draws us into following Him more nearly, even when following Him places us increasingly out of step with people around us.

The second half of Solomon's proverb therefore becomes beautiful: “But he who trusts in the LORD will be exalted.” Solomon doesn't say that the person who trusts God will always be understood, admired, or rewarded by other people. Sometimes trusting God may produce exactly the opposite response. The freedom is that we no longer need people to give us what we have already entrusted to God.

If my identity comes from Jesus, I don't need another person's approval to tell me who I am. If my security is in Jesus, I don't need to compromise obedience to protect myself. If my provision comes from my Father, I don't have to disobey Him because I am afraid of what obedience might cost financially. If my satisfaction, purpose, and life are found in Him, then another person cannot ultimately take those things away from me. The fear of man begins losing its power because the things I was afraid people could give or take have already been entrusted to Someone else.

Perhaps Proverbs 29 therefore gives us a very revealing question to ask ourselves: Is there anyone whose reaction could cause me to disobey Jesus? It might be a spouse, parent, child, friend, employer, brother or sister, or even an entire community whose approval has become extremely important to us. The question isn't whether we love them deeply. We should. The question is whether we have become so afraid of disappointing or losing them that their response has become a snare keeping us from following Jesus.

Our Father may sometimes lead us somewhere that costs us approval, reputation, comfort, security, or even relationships we desperately want to preserve. We don't need to pretend those losses don't hurt, and trusting God doesn't make us emotionally indifferent to people we love. It simply settles the question of whose hand we will continue holding when obedience becomes costly. We may not understand everything He is doing, and we may desperately wish there were an easier road, but we know the One leading us well enough to say, “Okay, Father. I'm coming with You.”

As we meet with our Father today, perhaps we should pray, “Father, give me something to do today, and whatever You ask of me, my answer is already, ‘Okay.’ Show me anywhere the fear of another person has become a snare in my life. I want to love people deeply without needing their approval, and I never want fear of losing a relationship, reputation, security, or comfort to become more powerful than my trust in You. I know enough about You to take Your hand even when I don't know where the road leads. As I follow You, let me know You more deeply, and as I know You more deeply, let me love You more. Then let that growing love draw me into following You more nearly, until trusting my Father becomes more natural than fearing anyone I meet along the way.”

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