KINGDOM TITBITS

We live in a world that celebrates big things — big titles, big followings, big wins. But in God’s economy, small has always carried surprising power. Over and over, the Bible shows us that God delights in taking what seems insignificant and using it to shake nations, silence giants, and save souls. Let’s look at how the “small” becomes mighty in God’s hands. When the Majority Missed It In Numbers 13, twelve men were sent to spy out the Promised Land. Ten came back trembling, saying, “We can’t attack those people; they are stronger than we are.” (Numbers 13:31). Only two — Joshua and Caleb — saw through the lens of faith. The ten spies saw themselves as grasshoppers; Joshua and Caleb saw God’s promise. Fear magnifies our smallness. Faith magnifies God’s greatness. The ten discouraged a whole nation. The two believed, and generations later, their names still stand as examples of courage. God doesn’t need the majority — He needs the faithful few. Gideon: The Smallest Man From the Smalles...

We live in an age where life feels fragile. Stress, conflict, disease, and despair take a toll on us. Too often, we assume that a long, meaningful life is out of reach—an accident of fate, something only a few are fortunate enough to enjoy. However, the biblical vision is different. It affirms that longevity is not only possible, but also promised. Why? Because God desires it for us. Take Abraham , for example; he " breathed his last and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years" ( Genesis 25:8 ). Isaac also "breathed his last and died and was gathered to his people, old and full of days" ( Genesis 35:28 ). After enduring immense suffering, Job "died old and full of days" ( Job 42:17 ). These are not just tales of ancient men but archetypes that demonstrate God's intentions for us. Romans 8:32 underscores this: “He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?” —i...

The image still takes my breath away.  Jesus, the Son of God, kneeling on the floor with a towel around His waist, washing His disciples' feet. It is unexpected, radical, and completely contrary to everything our culture teaches about power and status. Yet here is Jesus deliberately choosing the posture of a servant when He could have demanded the position of a king. As the disciples were about to argue about who was the greatest among them, Jesus responded by taking the lowest position imaginable. The Radical Act of Foot Washing Foot washing in first-century Palestine wasn't just a nice gesture; it was the job of the lowest servant in the household. Roads were dusty, people wore sandals, and feet often got dirty. It was necessary but unpleasant work that no one wanted to do. That's exactly why Jesus chose to do it. Peter's reaction feels so human and relatable. "You shall never wash my feet!" he exclaimed, horrified at the idea of his Lord doing such menial ...

Here’s something that often goes unspoken: the Kingdom of God was never intended to be a distant promise. It was meant to be experienced right now, in the mess and beauty of ordinary Tuesday afternoons. We’ve become comfortable with a version of Christianity that sounds more like a heavenly insurance policy than a revolutionary way to live. But what if I told you that everything you've been waiting for—the peace, the purpose, the power to change things—has already been deposited into your account? The Grace That Teaches Take a closer look at Titus 2:11-14 . Paul speaks of grace that “teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness and worldly passions and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in this present age .”  Notice that phrase: this present age.  Not the age to come , not when we get to heaven, not when everything gets sorted out—right here and right now, in a world that often feels unravelling. Grace does more than forgive; it educates. It transforms how we see ...

Three words that changed everything. Spoken from the cross in Jesus' final moments, " It is finished " wasn't a cry of defeat but a declaration of victory. The Greek word tetelestai means "it is completed" or "it is accomplished." It's the word used when a debt is paid in full, a task is finished, or a mission is accomplished. Jesus didn't just endure the cross; He completed it. He didn't just start the work of salvation ; He finished it. He didn't just make a good effort; He accomplished everything the Father had sent Him to do. This faithfulness to completion characterizes Jesus' entire life and ministry. He didn't just teach some good lessons; He revealed the complete truth about God . He didn't just heal a few people; He demonstrated God's complete power over sickness and death. He didn't just forgive some sins; He provided complete atonement for all sin. When Jesus said, "It is finished," He was ...

We live in the age of the hollow celebration. Walk into any restaurant on a given evening and you’ll witness the ritual: strangers awkwardly singing "Happy Birthday" to someone they don’t know, while that someone sits frozen in a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. The cake arrives, ablaze with candles—each one a year survived, not truly lived. This is our culture’s most sacred ceremony, magnificent in its emptiness. The Spectacle of Existence Let’s dig deeper into this performance, because that’s exactly what it is. The modern birthday has mutated from a quiet acknowledgment of time's passage into a desperate theatre of the self. We curate our birthday experiences like museum exhibitions of our own worth: the Instagram stories , the Facebook memories , the carefully orchestrated dinner where everyone must perform their affection on cue. This is not celebration; it’s existential panic dressed up as joy. We live in an attention economy where your birthday becomes you...

We live in an age of magnificent delusion. We are connected yet profoundly isolated. We are consuming yet spiritually starving. We are alive, yet dying every moment. The "life" we chase—with its endless notifications, frantic productivity, and desperate accumulation of experiences and things—is nothing more than a ghost, a shadow of what it means to truly exist. This isn't just an inconvenience; it's a civilizational collapse in slow motion, a spiritual famine we've mistaken for abundance. We've built a culture of the walking dead and called it progress. The most urgent question of our time isn't "how do we live?" but "what is life, really?" And lurking beneath that lies the most terrifying inquiry of all: "what is death?" The Bible doesn't offer us comfortable platitudes or self-help mantras. It confronts us with a beautiful, terrifying truth about the human condition that cuts through our modern anesthesia like a bla...