But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things! - Galatians 5:22-23 You may not know it, but when you gave your life to Jesus, all the fruits of the Spirit were planted inside you in seed form. Through the Spirit you can experience joy and peace in every circumstance, no matter how difficult or painful. You may not be a naturally patient person, but you can call on the Spirit within to produce patience. If you're battling unhealthy behaviors, like an addiction or some kind of bad habit, the Holy Spirit can give you the ability to resist the devil and make healthy choices.
We all have chapters in our lives we wish we could rewrite. Seasons filled with disappointment, loss, unanswered prayers, broken relationships, financial strain, health scares, regret, and long stretches of wondering if things will ever change. Moments when hope feels thin, faith feels fragile, and God feels distant. Times when the story seems to be heading toward an ending we never wanted. In those seasons, it's easy to believe that this chapter will define the whole book. Yet again and again, life proves that our stories are rarely finished where we think they are, because somewhere in the middle of the pain and uncertainty, two powerful words often appear: But God.
As we step into the new year, I sense a great expectation rising among believers. The Lord is stirring something fresh, and anticipation is gaining momentum. Many who walk intimately with the Lord are believing for fresh encounters, and there is a hunger for more of the things of God. I see the body of Christ pressing in through prayer and fasting for something new, something fresh. They crave the fresh manna. They are tired of the old school doctrine, and they are now seeking revelation and the mysteries of God.
Several years ago, I was asked to give a convocation address at a major theological seminary in America. In that address, I spoke about the critical role of logic in biblical interpretation, and I pleaded for seminaries to include courses on logic in their required curricula. In almost any seminary's course of study, students are required to learn something of the original biblical languages, Hebrew and Greek. They are taught to look at the historical background of the text, and they learn basic principles of interpretation. These are all important and valuable skills for being good stewards of the Word of God.
The performance trap is subtle and exhausting. The suffocating pressure that whispers that everything depends on you—your ability to get it right, pray the perfect prayer, or somehow unlock the "missing step" to breakthrough. When pressure builds, the mind spirals: What am I missing? What am I doing wrong? Why can't I get the breakthrough? Culture reinforces the same lie. Achievement, hustle, output, and perfection become the measures of worth. Even friends trying to help unknowingly add pressure by asking, "Have you tried this?" The problem is not the advice—it's the underlying assumption that your effort determines the outcome.
When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror and wanted to change what you saw? In the past month, about what have you said, "I want that?" When your friend received the promotion, product, or prestige that you thought you would receive, what was your reaction? Most people find it very difficult to be content. Contentment is difficult because we are fallen people living in a fallen world. No longer do we worship God alone and work for His glory. Until Jesus returns, we will battle the desire to want Christ plus someone or something else.
Every January, we make the same sacred promise to ourselves. We map out the person we'll become, the habits we'll build, and the version of ourselves we'll finally achieve. We write our resolutions with such hope, such certainty. Yet, by mid-February, most of us find ourselves back where we started. Consider that this is not because we lack willpower, but because we were building, once again, on an unstable and illusional foundation. This is why this year, I want to invite you into something different. Not another list of things to do or become but instead a single, clarifying question: Who am I beneath all the doing?
There are moments in God when time itself seems to shift, when seasons close and new beginnings quietly but unmistakably emerge. Scripture reveals that God is not bound by time, yet He works through time to accomplish eternal purposes. And how we steward time may be one of the greatest indicators of our spiritual health. From the opening pages of Genesis, God establishes divine order. He creates the heavens and the earth in six days, and on the seventh day, He rests, not because He was weary, but because creation was complete. The seventh day marked rest, reflection, and satisfaction in what had been accomplished.
Have you ever felt unsure about which decision to make? Or perhaps you feel fearful that the decisions you have made weren't the best. You play out the options in your mind, but you feel paralyzed—stuck and unable to move forward. Maybe you've lain in bed at night, concerned about the future. You've played over scenarios in your mind, trying to come up with the perfect solution. Uncertainty is all around us. Although we live in an information-overloaded culture, we're not benefiting. It seems that though there's more advice than ever, we're more uncertain than ever. Instead, we're growing in weariness and overwhelm.
Part and parcel to any relationship is communication—sending and receiving, talking and listening. Our relationships with God are no different. It's of no debate that God wants to hear our voices. But Jesus revealed that God also wants us to hear His. "My sheep hear My voice," He assured (John 10:27). Unless you live on a farm, most today are far removed from what it actually means for sheep to know their master's voice. In a recent online Bible study, I played a short video clip that profoundly illustrates what happens.
