Can I Trust Him With That?
There is a question that most of us have asked at some point, usually in the middle of a sleepless night or during a season of life that feels like it is unraveling. The question is simple but cuts to the core of our faith: Can I trust God with this?
Not with life in general. Not with the easy stuff. But with this specific thing, the one that keeps your mind racing, the one you have been gripping tightly because letting go feels more dangerous than holding on.
That question deserves an honest answer, and the answer begins with understanding what stability actually is.
We Have Stability Backwards
Most of us define a stable life the same way. There is enough money in the bank. Health is good. Relationships are solid. The future feels predictable. Comfort is the measuring stick, and when life delivers comfort, we call it stability.
But what if that definition is completely wrong?
What if the most stable place you could ever be in your life is not a place of comfort at all, but rather a place of complete trust in Jesus, even when everything around you feels uncertain? True stability is not the absence of storms. It is having a foundation that holds when the storms arrive, and storms will always arrive.
What Does It Actually Mean to Love Like Jesus?
Love is one of the most talked-about topics in the world, and yet it remains one of the most misunderstood. We throw the word around casually, attach it to preferences and feelings, and quietly reserve it for the people who make it easy. But what if genuine love — the kind that transforms communities, disarms enemies, and reflects the heart of God — looks radically different from what we have settled for?
Romans 12:9-21 lays out one of the most challenging and practical pictures of love found anywhere in Scripture. It is not a soft, sentimental portrait. It is a call to something costly, something counter-cultural, and ultimately something that is only possible through the power of God working in us.
Love Without a Mask
Paul opens with a striking command: let love be sincere. The Greek word he uses literally means without hypocrisy. In the ancient world, the word hypocrite was borrowed from the theater, where actors would hold up masks to portray different characters. Paul is essentially saying, do not wear a mask of love while hiding something entirely different underneath.
This is a word that cuts deep. It is possible to say the right things, smile at the right moments, and still harbor bitterness, jealousy, or contempt beneath the surface. Hypocritical love is transactional — it gives in order to receive. It is conditional — it extends warmth only to those who agree, who behave, who belong to the right group. It is situational — it shows up when convenient and disappears when things get hard.
The contrast Paul draws is the agape love of God. This is not the romantic love of eros, nor the friendship love of philia, nor the family affection of storge. Agape is selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional. It is not primarily driven by emotion or attraction, but by will and commitment — choosing to act for someone else's good regardless of what comes back in return. This is the love God demonstrated when He gave Himself for us. And it is the love He calls us to walk in daily.
The Gift You Cannot Earn: Understanding Righteousness Through Faith
There's something deeply uncomfortable about receiving a gift we know we don't deserve. When a friend insists on paying for dinner and won't let us contribute even the tip, we squirm. We want to do something, contribute somehow, prove we're not just taking advantage of their generosity.
This discomfort reveals something profound about human nature: we struggle to accept grace.
The Problem with Religious Performance
Throughout history, humanity has wrestled with a fundamental question: How do we stand righteous before a holy God? The natural human response is to try harder, do more, and achieve enough good works to tip the scales in our favor.
Various religious systems have offered their answers. Some say it's faith plus following certain rules. Others suggest you need to be hopefully good enough, and perhaps God will accept you. Still others propose a mixture of grace and works, as if God's gift needs our help to be complete.
But the message of Romans chapter 4 cuts through all this religious striving with a radical truth: righteousness cannot be earned. It can only be received.