Grace is Who You Are

 Tyler Staton

Dallas Willard most famously defined grace this way:

“Grace is God acting in our lives to accomplish what we cannot accomplish on our own.”

He often paired that definition with his clarifying insight:

“Grace is opposed to earning, not to effort.”

“The Annunciation is a heavenly angel's announcement, claiming God's most ancient, most sweeping, most far-reaching promises must be believed personally, if they're to be received personally. A revelation made plain in the words of the angel Gabriel's lips, greetings you who are highly favored.

Another translation made famous by an old hymn is Mary full of grace. That's what the angel calls Mary with a little bit of a poetic imagination. Greetings, Mary full of grace.

It's a fitting title given all that Mary did to earn her decisive role in God's redemption. What does the text say made Mary stand out from all the other potential candidates for the role of God's mother? What qualified her?

What about her did God find so impressive? How did she earn his divine favor and blessing and love? Nothing.

We're not given a syllable about qualification in the enunciation. It's just receiving. She receives the angel's announcement.”

From Bridgetown Audio Podcast: First Light: Advent 2025 - Mary (Love), Dec 22, 2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/bridgetown-audio-podcast/id84246334?i=1000742280526&r=1277

This material may be protected by copyright.

“You are not your last name or your family of origin or your socioeconomic status. You are not your weight or your waist size or your desirability according to any cultural standard. You are not your relationship status, your parenting status, your friendship status or your social calendar.

You are not your last year, your last week or your last mistake. You are full of grace. You are Richard full of grace.

You are Bethany full of grace. You are Nate full of grace. That is who you are.

And the fight of your life is and always will be to trust that grace continually. To not merely believe God once, but to trust God continually when he says that's who you are. To know Mary, not as one lucky exception, but the first in a long line of grace carrying, grace trusted, grace defined disciples.

It is grace that found you first. It is grace that renamed you. Grace that called you, filled you, and redeemed you.

And it is grace that finds you again today. Grace that reminds you who you really are. Grace that calls you by the only name that heaven knows you by.

“And the fight of your life is and always will be to trust that grace continually. To not merely believe God once, but to trust God continually when he says that's who you are. To know Mary, not as one lucky exception, but the first in a long line of grace carrying, grace trusted, grace defined disciples.

It is grace that found you first. It is grace that renamed you. Grace that called you, filled you, and redeemed you.

And it is grace that finds you again today. Grace that reminds you who you really are. Grace that calls you by the only name that heaven knows you by.

Grace that refills you. Grace that keeps on reminding you of that till he's washed out every trace of that old lie within you. As it says in Titus 3, but when the kindness and love of God, our Savior, appeared, he saved us not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.”

“Your life will be every bit as much of a complicated mess as Abraham's and Mary's and everyone in between and it will be just as eternally consequential, cosmically meaningful as those whom all generations would call blessed to the degree that like your ancient ancestors, you learn to trust his grace. Grace in the midst of your fear of all that you want to control but can't. Grace in the midst of all the plans you had that now lie shattered on the floor in front of you.

Grace in the face of all that you found security in that has been swept like a rug out from under you. The friendship that you lost, the relationship that you lost, the job that you lost, health you lost, money you lost, house you lost, future you lost. Grace washing over the mistake you made that haunts you but you can't undo, the people that you hurt, the fool that you made of yourself, the shame that you wear.

Grace that sounds like, where can I go from your spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I rise up to the heights, you're there, and if I make[…]”

From Bridgetown Audio Podcast: First Light: Advent 2025 - Mary (Love), Dec 22, 2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/bridgetown-audio-podcast/id84246334?i=1000742280526&r=2097

This material may be protected by copyright.

From Bridgetown Audio Podcast: First Light: Advent 2025 - Mary (Love), Dec 22, 2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/bridgetown-audio-podcast/id84246334?i=1000742280526&r=1526

This material may be protected by copyright.

Grace that[…]”

From Bridgetown Audio Podcast: First Light: Advent 2025 - Mary (Love), Dec 22, 2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/bridgetown-audio-podcast/id84246334?i=1000742280526&r=1495

This material may be protected by copyright.

Gaslighting

 

Jesus was so sure of his identity, that he did not have to PROVE himself. When Satan came to tempt him by questioning His position as the Son of God. Jesus did not engage by ‘proving’ himself or trying to convince Satan that He was the son of God. No, Jesus, responded with the security and proof of God’s word. Gaslighters will lure you in to engage in a battle of words. They will lure you into behaving in extraordinary ways that do not honour God. You must make a deliberate decision not to engage, so that just like Matthew 4:11, they will eventually leave you and angels of the Lord will minister to you, strengthening your heart and mind.                  “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.” - Hebrews‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Jesus prayed that they would be forgiven. Even if it feels like the perpetrator knows exactly what they are doing, the truth is that when we sin, we behave outside of the identity that Christ died for us to have. The ‘gaslighter’ is still worthy of grace, and room to grow out of their manipulative behaviour. To withhold grace from someone is to deny God’s ability to transform people regardless of their past wrongs. Though it is hard, we must forgive. This is Christ’s response. “May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭19‬:‭14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Trevor Hudson - being an ameteur

“Your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.”

—Matthew 6:6 (NKJV)

 I remember the moment when I knew that I always wanted to be an amateur Christ-follower.

I was driving along a gravel road when I saw some children playing soccer. They were barefoot, the goal posts were makeshift, the field was dust. They were excited, passionate, and having great fun. They were playing soccer for the love of it!

That evening, on the news channel, I listened to our country’s soccer professional players give their reasons for refusing to play. Their pay demands had not been met by the national soccer association.

That was the moment I knew that I always wanted to be an amateur Christ-follower. Someone continually learning to follow and serve Jesus, simply out of love for him.

Let me be clear. I know the importance of accreditation, standards, accountability. I myself belong to professional bodies regarding aspects of my own work and ministry - roles.

However, in my heart I always want to be an amateur Christ-follower.

I always want to be an amateur in prayer. There are no experts when it comes to prayer. I will always remain a beginner. When I need someone to pray for me, I ask someone who prays because they are in love with God.

I always want to be an amateur in loving. Learning to express the love of Christ has been a lifelong longing. My greatest failures in life have been those in loving. Thankfully, God doesn’t give up on me in my failures and helps me to begin again.

I always want to be an amateur in spiritual companionship. To accompany another seeker along the Way remains one of the great privileges in the Christian life. In the words of D T Niles though, it is definitely for me a case of one beggar helping another beggar to find food.

Contemporary life has been carved up into compartments, each with their own professional experts who are regarded as having the most important say in their spheres. I remain deeply grateful for their knowledge and skill acquired through years of academic studies. My life has been literally saved through the expertise of the medical professionals.

However, when it comes to following Christ, I do not want to be an expert. I always want to be an amateur.

In sharing this reflection, I wonder how you respond to this descriptive word “amateur” when used in relation to our life as a Jesus-follower. 

Does it suggest incompetence, lack of expertise, and the absence of real knowledge? Or does it perhaps come across as an invitation to find our deepest identity beyond our professional roles as persons loved by Christ? 

Eulogy of Gratitude

Len Sweet

So I sat down to try. Immediately, something surfaced: I couldn’t tell the story of my vocation without telling the story of my gratitude.

If there is one metaphor for my life’s calling, it is this: I have lived the life of a salmon — head toward the Headwaters, swimming against the current, nose tuned to the scent of the Source.

Eighty books, thousands of published sermons, hundreds of LenTalks — trace them all upstream and you find one long pilgrimage. And here is the truth I cannot tell without thanksgiving: I never swam alone.

People often assume that upstream swimmers are solitary, self-willed, stubborn. But the only reason I could swim against the cultural and ecclesial current is that others stood on the banks and cheered me on. Some even waded into the river to clear debris, pull away nets, defend the spawning grounds where dangerous ideas could breathe.

For that, I give thanks.

My Work in One Litany

If I have done anything, it has been this: I have tried to help the church trade the safety of the familiar for the adventure of the Spirit.

It sounds like this:

While others talked numbers, he talked narratives.

While others counted statistics, he collected stories.

While others organized retreats, he hosted advances.

While others touted apologetics, he talked aesthetics.

While others preached carpe diem, he sang carpe mañana — the grace of God’s tomorrow tugging us forward.

When others talked leadership, he talked followership. Jesus never said, “Be a leader.” He said, “Follow me.”

When others talked justice, he talked Jubilee — where mercy outdances measure and forgiveness resets the score.

When others joined the Order of St. Roberts — patron saint of metrics and managerialism — he pledged allegiance to St. Paul’s Rules of the Spirit: faith, hope, love. Those were the only KPIs that mattered.

When others talked propositions, he talked relationships. Truth is not a statement. Truth is a Savior.

When others claimed information, he claimed imagination.

When others built systems, he cultivated symbols.

When others trusted techne, he trusted tekton — the Artisan still crafting new worlds.

When others chased vision and the next big thing, he listened for the next small sign.

When others colonized the mind with certainty, he invited the whole person into mystery.

When others turned the Bible into a library of chapters and verses, he returned it to a garden — alive, wild, blooming with metaphor.

When others declared the death of metanarratives, he celebrated the One Grand Story that runs from Genesis to the maps.

When others turned faith into argument, he lived it as adventure.

When churches were busy writing mission statements, he urged them to craft mission stories and tell them on video — where today’s world actually listens.

When others defended doctrine, he discerned semiotics — the dance of signs by which the Spirit still whispers.

When others bowed to an imperial imagination, he stood in an incarnational imagination — God with us, in us, among us, for us.

When others separated sacred from secular, he insisted on whole-earth holiness.

When others glorified the literal, he tended the littoral — where heaven kisses earth and parable becomes portal.

When others talked youth ministry, he talked future ministry.

When others talked generations, he talked cultures.

When others feared cultural change, he welcomed it as gospel compost — rich soil for new shoots of grace.

When others defined church as institution, he described it as Jesus’ Studio — a place where disciples apprentice themselves to divine imagination.

When others preached “work harder,” he preached “play better” — worship as the Spirit’s playground.

When others tried to “save souls,” he tried to sozo humans — mind, body, spirit, community, creation made whole.

When others imagined eschatology as ending, he imagined telos — a beginning in disguise.

When some complained, “Your sermons are pointless,” he smiled. Because making points was never the point. The Point is a Person — Jesus Christ the Lord. The gospel is a pointing, not a point.

When others talked power, he talked presence.

When others obsessed over the politics of party, he obsessed over the politics of Jesus.

When others clamored for position, he claimed posture: the Orant stance — standing, eyes open, arms raised, palms outward, face lifted toward the future.

While others hugged the middle lane, he waved a sign that read: “The Bell Curve is dead — long live the Well Curve!” In a polarizing world where opposites happen at the same time, the way forward is not compromise. It is construction.

And while others stayed in the mainstream, he kept swimming upstream — 

where the water runs clear and cold,

where the spawning ground of ideas is sacred,

where the currents of culture cannot drown the currents of the Spirit.

A Small Story of Upstream Faithfulness

Once, when I was still in my thirties, the church tried to give me her highest honor. I interrupted the voting, asked for a moment of personal privilege, walked to the microphone, and took a swan dive in the form of a belly-flop: “If you want to ruin me — and ruin my ministry — elect me bishop. God has not called me to the episcopacy.” Then I sat down.

And I swam on — upstream again. Homeward, toward the Headwaters. Calling is a direction, not a destination. 

A Stone Beside the River

This is not a eulogy. I pray I’m not finished. 

It is an Ebenezer — a stone of remembrance beside the river. A marker where grace found me, strengthened me, sent me swimming again.

I have written not to build a brand but to scatter seeds;

not to carve monuments but to kindle fires;

not to win arguments but to open imaginations.

If I have done anything, it is this: I have stood in the river of the Spirit, swimming toward the Source, inviting others to hear the music in the current . . . 

and follow it home.

And for every person who cheered me upstream, cleared the path, took a risk on a salmon who kept veering from the mainstream — thank you.

Gratitude is the river that carries me.

Affirmation / Encouragement

 

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Affirmation

If they're breathing... 

HARP DEC 5

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“I can live two months on one good compliment…” — Mark Twain

Jeff Foxworthy recently told a story about being mentored by Truett Cathy. Jeff grew up in the same town as the first Chick-fil-A, back when it wasn’t an empire, just a restaurant cooking up some anointed chicken.

One day Truett asked Jeff, “Do you know how to tell if someone needs encouragement?” “No sir…”Jeff replied. Truett smiled: “If they’re breathing.”

That line changed Jeff’s life. From that day forward, he woke up every morning asking one question: Who can I affirm...who can I encourage today?

---

What is affirmation?

Here is how I define affirmation: Affirmation is the holy practice of calling out the image of God in a man while strengthening the parts of him that sin and shame have tried to break.

Affirmation seeks to fortify what the world has tried to fracture.

---

Why Men Need It

Every man you know—no matter his age, income, or toughness—is asking the same silent questions: “Does anyone see me?” “Does my effort matter?” “Am I enough?”

1. Men carry weight no one applauds.

Most of what makes a man a man happens in silence. He bears responsibility, pressure, fear, and sacrifice, usually unseen. Affirmation doesn’t coddle him. It acknowledges the load.

2. Most men don’t know how to ask for it.

Women reach out naturally. Men don’t. Affirmation steps into that silence with words of strength, not sentimentality.

3. Every man fights spiritual discouragement.

Scripture commands daily encouragement because without it a man’s heart grows hard and vulnerable to temptation [Heb. 3:13]. Affirmation is spiritual warfare.

4. Affirmation reinforces a man’s God-given design.

Men are builders of families, cultures, churches, and businesses. Builders need reinforcement. Affirmation is spiritual rebar.

5. Most men never heard it growing up.

Most men walk into adulthood with wounds from silence. Affirmation becomes the blessing their father never gave.

6. Affirmation reflects the voice of God.

God’s words to His sons are never shaming—they strengthen, steady, and call us up. When you affirm a man, you echo the Father.

“There are no ordinary people,” Lewis said in a sermon. “You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.”

Excerpt From

What Good Is God?

Philip Yancey

Draw Near

 “Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord.

His coming is as certain as the dawn;

He will come to us like the rain,

like the spring rains that water the earth.”

—Hosea 6:3 (NASB)

That evening  I didn’t go hunting for this verse in Hosea on my own. A friend brought it up to me not long ago, just in normal conversation, and I went back later and read it for myself. As I did, something on the inside of me burned in a way that’s hard to explain—what the old saints used to call “being quickened in your spirit.” I knew right then the Lord was putting a little check mark next to that verse just for me.

It is only a sentence. 

It carries the power of the Holy Spirit: 

“Let us press on to know the Lord.”

Press on.

Keep moving.

Lean forward.

Don’t let comfort lull you.

Don’t let discouragement freeze you in place.

Don’t let yesterday’s failure convince you that tomorrow is already lost.

Press on.

Hosea spoke these words to a people who had drifted away from God without even realizing how far they had wandered. Their hearts were divided. Their worship had grown thin. Their prayers were a whisper. They still belonged to God… but something precious had faded.

Sound familiar, dear one?

Sometimes the distance between us and the Lord doesn’t come from rebellion. Sometimes it comes from fatigue. Life gets loud. Responsibilities pile high. Wounds accumulate. And little by little, without meaning to, the fire cools.

But Hosea stands on the pages of Scripture like a watchman calling through the night:

“Don’t settle for a far-away God when He longs to be near.

Don’t stay in the shadows when His light is rising over you.

Press on. Chase Him. Seek Him. You’ll find Him.”

And then Hosea gives the most comforting promise:

“His coming is as certain as the dawn.”

Think about that.

Every morning… without fail… light breaks through darkness.

Even on cloudy days.

Even when you can’t see the sun.

Even when the night felt endless.

The dawn always arrives.

So does God.

When you lift your heart toward Him—even with trembling hands and weak prayers—He comes. He draws near. He leans in. Maybe you don’t feel it right away. Maybe it begins as a quiet warmth in the soul. But beloved, His presence moves toward the one who seeks Him. It’s His nature to come.

And then Hosea adds one more picture, soft and beautiful:

“He will come to us like the rain.”

Not like a storm.

Not like a hammer.

Not like condemnation.

Like rain.

Gentle enough to soften hard ground.

Strong enough to awaken buried seeds.

Steady enough to turn a barren field into a garden again.

Maybe that’s what your heart needs today—not a lecture, not a rebuke…

just rain.

Rain that washes off the dust.

Rain that restores tenderness.

Rain that nourishes dry places you haven’t touched in a long time.

Rain that whispers, “I am still here… and I am not finished with you.”

Beloved, Hosea’s invitation is simple, but it reaches down into the secret place of the soul:

Press on.

Return again.

Seek Him again.

Pray again.

Hope again.

You’re not chasing a distant God.

You’re not pursuing a reluctant Father.

You’re running toward the One who is already running toward you.

The God who meets you in the morning.

The God who rains on thirsty hearts.

The God who delights to be found.

He is coming…

as surely as light breaks into darkness…

as surely as rain finds dry ground.

So come, dear one.

Take one small step toward Him.

Lift one honest prayer.

Whisper one simple desire.

Turn your face—just a little—and watch Him meet you in the turning.

He has never ignored a seeking heart.

And He will not ignore yours.

Beloved, if your spirit feels tired…

if your fire has dimmed…

if you feel far from the Lord and don’t know how to find your way back…

come.

If you’ve stopped praying because you felt unworthy…

come.

If your Bible has been closed for too long and you feel ashamed…

come.

If you want Him—but something inside you feels stuck or numb…

come.

Lift your hands.

Lift your eyes.

Lift your desire.

Say with Hosea,

“Lord, I’m pressing on to know You again. Let Your rain fall on me.”

And beloved… He will.

He surely will.

With Love,

Steve Porter

www.morningglorydevo.com

The Quiet Life

 Steve Porter

“Your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly.”

— Matthew 6:4

Good morning, friends. I’m writing this with a Bible beside me and a few thoughts that have been sitting in my heart for days. Nothing dramatic happened. It was just one of those slow, steady impressions the Lord drops into your spirit when you’re quiet long enough to hear Him.

I started noticing how the smallest acts of love seem to stay with people more than we realize. Not the big, impressive gestures—just the ordinary things. A kind word. A little patience. A moment of listening. Things like that.

Maybe it stood out to me because life feels loud right now. The world rewards whatever gets attention, and people get caught up in being seen. But when I look at Jesus, He didn’t operate that way. Most of His ministry took place in quiet moments. One person at a time. One conversation. One touch. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced.

And honestly, that speaks to me. Because some of you have been worn down by the sharpness of this world. Maybe you’ve been criticized more than encouraged. Maybe you’re tired from holding everything together. Maybe you’ve been through a season where the smallest things felt heavy. You’re not alone in that.

The Lord reminded me that gentle people often carry the most healing. They aren’t loud. They don’t draw attention to themselves. They show up in ways that seem small but end up meaning a lot.

They’re the ones who:

• notice when someone is struggling

• take time they don’t really have

• offer help without making it a big deal

• speak softly when everyone else is tense

Most of their kindness happens when nobody is watching. And that’s probably why it feels so genuine.

I’ll admit, I’ve missed chances years ago to do the same. I can look back and see moments where I could’ve chosen calm over irritation or encouragement over silence. But the Lord doesn’t hold that over us. He gives us another chance today.

You’d be surprised how much one simple sentence can help somebody.

And we honestly can’t tell what people are hiding behind that polite smile.

Some people are holding on by a single trembling thread…

and the smallest act of love, almost nothing to us, becomes the one thing that steadies their whole world.

The older I get, the more I believe the quiet things matter most. The hidden sacrifices. The prayers nobody hears. The little choices that reveal who we’re becoming. Heaven sees all of it.

Some of you feel like your life isn’t making much of a difference, but maybe God is using the things you think are “small” to do work you can’t see yet. Sitting with someone during a hard time. Forgiving someone who hurt you. Being patient. Showing understanding. These things look ordinary, but the Lord treasures them.

So today, don’t feel pressure to be anything loud or impressive. Just be willing. Be available. Be kind. Let Jesus work through the calmer, gentler parts of your heart.

Those are the things that leave marks. Real ones. Eternal ones.

“If you pour yourself out for the hungry… your light will rise in the darkness.”

— Isaiah 58:10

With Love,

Steve Porter

www.bio.site/findrefuge