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1 Samuel 15 brings us face-to-face with a difficult, sobering reality about the nature of true worship. As we watch King Saul engage with God’s explicit command to utterly destroy the Amalekites, we are forced to look inward at our own habits of partial obedience. Saul’s error wasn't that he did nothing; it was that he did "almost" everything. He left Agag alive and kept the best of the livestock, rationalizing his choices under the guise of religious sacrifice.
It is a haunting reminder that we, too, can be quite busy with religious activity while simultaneously bypassing the actual heart of God’s instruction. We often find ourselves "sacrificing" time or energy while holding onto the things God has specifically asked us to release. The Mask of Rationalization We often mask our reluctance to fully yield behind the language of stewardship or wisdom. We tell ourselves that keeping a "little piece" of what should be discarded is simply being practical or preparing for the future. This subtle rationalization is a dangerous form of spiritual negotiation, where we attempt to maintain control while appearing to follow God. It is in these quiet justifications that our hearts drift from true submission, prioritizing our own comfort and logic over the absolute authority of His word. The Trap of Blame-Shifting The conversation between Samuel and Saul is perhaps one of the most painful in all of Scripture. When confronted, Saul’s immediate instinct is to shift the blame. "The people took," he says, distancing himself from the decision. How often do I make excuses when I am challenged? How quickly do I point to external circumstances or the influence of others rather than owning my own lack of surrender? Samuel’s response—the eternal truth that "to obey is better than sacrifice" (1 Samuel 15:22)—cuts through the noise. It serves as a stark correction for anyone who thinks they can negotiate with God. We cannot compensate for a lack of submission by adding more "religious" deeds. God is not interested in our bargaining; He is looking for a heart that is fully yielded, even when the command is difficult or requires us to let go of something we value. The Fear of Man Deep within Saul’s blame-shifting was a paralyzing fear of man. He cared more about maintaining his status before the people than his standing before the Lord. This same instinct often drives us to prioritize our public image over our private integrity. When we allow the opinions of others to dictate our responses to God’s calling, we effectively crown the crowd as our king. This fear blinds us, making the immediate pressure of human expectation seem more real and urgent than the eternal weight of God’s quiet command. A Call to Undivided Surrender Today, I am challenged to examine those areas where I am settling for partial obedience. Am I holding onto a remnant of something I should have surrendered? Are there excuses I am crafting to justify my own path? My prayer is that my life would be defined not by the "sacrifices" I offer as a cover-up, but by a genuine, undivided heart that seeks to obey Him completely. Ultimately, the cost of such surrender is high, yet it is paid in the currency of the heart. True, deep obedience is rarely a public spectacle; it happens in the quiet, unseen places where no one is watching but God. It is in the middle of the night or the silence of a difficult decision that we choose to let go of our pride, our plans, and our "Agags." These hidden victories of the soul are where real spiritual authority is born, transforming us from those who merely offer sacrifices into those whose lives are the sacrifice.
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1 Samuel 14 stands as a striking study in contrasts. As I read through this chapter, I am repeatedly drawn to the visual difference between the two main leaders: King Saul, who sits idly under a pomegranate tree with his six hundred men, and his son Jonathan, who scales a dangerous cliff with nothing but his armor-bearer and a conviction that the battle belongs to the Lord.
The "May" of Faith It is easy to misread Jonathan’s actions as reckless, but there is a profound theological depth to his approach. He doesn’t claim to know the future; he doesn’t have a written guarantee of success. Instead, he speaks the language of holy hope: "It may be that the Lord will work for us, for nothing can hinder the Lord from saving by many or by few" (1 Samuel 14:6). This is a powerful distinction. Jonathan wasn't acting on a hunch or a feeling; he was acting on the character of God. He understood that God’s power is not contingent on human strength or numbers. In my own life, I find that I often want the guarantee before I take the step. I want to see the "many" on my side—the resources, the support, and the clear path—before I move forward. But 1 Samuel 14 challenges that desire for control. Sometimes, the most faithful place to be is on a jagged cliff, trusting that the God who saves is greater than the obstacles standing in the way. The Paralysis of Passivity While Jonathan is moving, Saul is waiting. The contrast is sobering. Saul has become stagnant, seemingly more concerned with maintaining his position than engaging in the mission God had for him. There is a danger here that we all face: the temptation to retreat into the shadows of comfort while the work of the Kingdom remains undone. Saul’s passivity reminds me that spiritual stagnation often masquerades as caution. We can convince ourselves that we are just "waiting on the Lord," when in reality, we might be hiding from the challenges He has called us to face. Jonathan’s boldness doesn’t mean he was ignoring God; it meant he was actively seeking to participate in what God was already doing. The Sovereignty of the Outcome The most encouraging takeaway from this chapter is the reminder of who ultimately wins the victory. Whether the breakthrough comes through a small group of faithful believers or a great army, the credit belongs to the Lord. Saul’s rash oath later in the chapter serves as a stark warning about the danger of human zeal detached from God’s wisdom. It highlights how even those who claim to serve God can get in the way of His work when they prioritize their own arbitrary rules over His grace. It is a humble reminder that our own efforts, even when well-intentioned, must always be submitted to His sovereignty. A Challenge for Today As I close this chapter, I am left with a question that lingers: What is my "garrison of the Philistines"? Where am I hesitating? Where am I waiting for a guarantee when I should be stepping out in faith? God is not looking for human perfection or massive numbers. He is looking for hearts that are convinced of His power—hearts that believe "nothing can hinder the Lord." May I have the courage today to leave the comfort of the shade, climb the cliff, and trust that He is the one who ultimately wins the battle. There are moments in life where the pressure feels insurmountable. The walls seem to be closing in, resources feel scarce, and the people we are responsible for are looking to us for an answer—or at the very least, a move.
Reading through 1 Samuel 13 this morning, I couldn’t help but be struck by Saul’s situation. He was at Gilgal, surrounded by a terrified army that was slowly deserting him. The Philistines were massing for war, and Saul was waiting for Samuel to arrive to offer the burnt offering. The text tells us Saul waited the seven days that Samuel had appointed, but when Samuel didn’t show up, the pressure broke him. He didn't wait any longer. He took matters into his own hands, offered the sacrifice himself, and in doing so, stepped over a line he shouldn’t have crossed. The Trap of Holy Panic It is easy to judge Saul from the comfort of our own lives. We look back and say, "He should have waited." But how often do I find myself in that same state of "holy panic"? When a situation is spiraling, when the outcome is uncertain, and when God’s timing feels sluggish compared to the urgency of the moment, the temptation to take control is almost irresistible. Saul’s mistake wasn’t just a logistical error; it was a crisis of trust. He prioritized the immediate need for a military advantage over the fundamental requirement of obedience. He convinced himself that he was doing something "necessary" to save the day, failing to realize that obedience to God is always more significant than the immediate solution we think we need to engineer. Prioritizing Obedience Over Outcomes Samuel’s rebuke is devastatingly clear: "You have done foolishly. You have not kept the command of the Lord your God." It’s a sobering reminder for anyone in a position of leadership or influence: the goal is never just to get the job done. The goal is to walk in obedience while the job is being done. When we operate out of fear or impatience, we often trade our integrity for a temporary sense of control. We prioritize the "results" over the One who gives them. As I look at this passage today, I’m challenged to examine my own heart for areas where I am taking control because I’m afraid of what might happen if I wait on God. Am I willing to trust God’s silence and God’s timing, even when the pressure is mounting? The end of the chapter mentions that God was seeking a "man after his own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14). It is a profound contrast to the scene at Gilgal. While Saul was busy managing the optics and the immediate crises, God was looking for a heart that was aligned with His—not a heart that was preoccupied with its own competence, but one that was centered on His character. May we be a people who are less concerned with "fixing" our circumstances and more concerned with keeping the command of the Lord. May we learn to wait, to trust, and to remember that true stability isn’t found in our own frantic activity, but in the steadfastness of the One who holds the future. There is a unique gravity to a farewell. In 1 Samuel 12, we find Samuel at the end of his long, faithful tenure as judge. He stands before all of Israel, not to celebrate his own resume, but to clear his conscience. He asks a piercing question: "Whose ox have I taken? Or whose donkey have I taken? Or whom have I defrauded?" (1 Samuel 12:3).
It is a striking moment of transparency. In a world where leadership is often defined by accumulation, power, and prestige, Samuel’s final act is to hold up a mirror to his own integrity. He wasn't perfect, but he was blameless. He stands there as a man who finished well, ready to hand over the mantle because he had served the people without exploiting them. But the tone of the chapter shifts quickly. While the people affirm Samuel's integrity, the underlying tension of the narrative remains: they have demanded a king. They are standing at the threshold of a new era, having decided that the security of a human monarch is preferable to the invisible, sovereign rule of God. The Illusion of Human Security Samuel recounts the history of Israel—not to punish them, but to show them the pattern of God’s rescue. From Egypt to the wilderness, through the periods of oppression and liberation, Yahweh had been their King. When they were in trouble, they cried out, and He delivered them. The tragic irony in this chapter is palpable. The people asked for a king because they wanted to be "like the nations," believing that a visible, earthly ruler would provide the stability they lacked. They were essentially trading the Creator for a creature. They believed that by controlling the variables—by putting a person in charge who would fight their battles—they could finally be safe. It is easy to judge the people of Israel for this. Yet, I wonder how often I do the same thing. How often do I look for security in the wrong places? When I feel anxious about the future or uncertain about my circumstances, my first instinct is rarely to rest in the unseen sovereignty of God. Instead, I find myself looking for a "king"—a strategy, a resource, a specific outcome, or a person to blame or rely on. I look for visible structures to provide the peace that only God can offer. The Call to Fear and Serve God’s response to their demand is both sobering and deeply merciful. He sends thunder and rain in the wheat harvest—an unnatural, alarming sign—to show them their wickedness in rejecting Him. Yet, even in this rebuke, there is a path forward. Samuel tells them, "Do not be afraid; you have done all this evil. Yet do not turn aside from following the Lord, but serve the Lord with all your heart" (1 Samuel 12:20). There is so much grace in that "Yet." Even when we have strayed, even when we have insisted on our own way and rejected God’s better plan, the invitation remains: don't turn away. Don't let your mistake become your destination. Instead, return to the One who has been faithful through it all. The final charge is simple, yet it requires everything: "Only fear the Lord and serve him faithfully with all your heart. For consider what great things he has done for you" (1 Samuel 12:24). This is the antidote to the anxiety of living in a world that feels unstable. We don't need to craft our own kingdoms or seek security in "the nations." We simply need to look back at what He has done, acknowledge His power, and commit to serving Him with an undivided heart. Today, that feels like a quiet, steadying challenge. It’s an invitation to stop looking for other kings, to stop building my own security, and to center my life—once again—on the King who has proven His love through every season. The events of 1 Samuel 11 serve as a powerful reminder of God’s sovereignty even in the face of desperate circumstances. As Nahash the Ammonite besieged Jabesh-gilead, the people were paralyzed by a heavy, suffocating fear, offering to serve him simply to escape complete destruction. This ancient siege mirrors the overwhelming "sieges" we often feel in our modern lives—those seasons where problems hem us in on every side and make us feel trapped. Their desperation, however, became the catalyst for God’s Spirit to rush upon Saul, proving that our darkest moments are often the preamble to His greatest displays of power.
Responding to Challenges It is easy to relate to the people of Jabesh-gilead. When we face overwhelming challenges—whether they are relational, financial, or spiritual—our first instinct is often to negotiate with the problem, hoping for a compromise that will spare us from total ruin. We try to manage the situation on our own terms, effectively attempting to sign a treaty with our fears rather than fully surrendering the outcome to God's intervention. This human tendency to compromise reveals a heart that is still trying to be its own savior. Yet, the narrative here shifts quickly from the people’s desperate bargaining to God’s sovereign intervention. The Spirit of the LORD coming upon Saul was not merely a call to battle; it was a visible manifestation of God’s rule over the affairs of His people, reminding us that true relief comes only when we stop negotiating and start trusting. The Strength of Unity What strikes me most about this chapter is the collective response of Israel. Saul’s anger at the injustice was righteous, and his decisive action ignited a unity among the people that had been absent for far too long. In our world, God-honoring unity is a rare and beautiful thing. It requires a profound submission to His established authority and a willingness to lay aside individualistic panic for the sake of the body. They did not fight out of a scattered, self-protective fear; instead, they moved as "one man" because they recognized the urgency of the moment and the divine authority God had placed over them. This unity was not manufactured by human effort but was a gift of the Spirit, drawing them together for a purpose much larger than themselves. A Greater Deliverance Ultimately, this chapter points us toward a greater deliverance. Saul’s victory over the Ammonites was temporary, but it highlighted a crucial principle: God provides the deliverance His people need, often in ways that catch us off guard. This story serves as a shadow of the work of Christ, our ultimate Savior. While Saul rescued a city from a physical enemy, Jesus rescues our souls from the eternal siege of sin and death. He provides a sense of peace that transcends our current temporary struggles, reminding us that the battle has already been won. While we might look for relief through our own negotiations or plans, 1 Samuel 11 invites us to look for the "Spirit" moments—those instances where God stirs up courage, unity, and victory precisely when the situation seems entirely beyond our control. It calls us to trust that the same God who stirred Saul to action and sent Christ to the cross is still the one who hears the cry of the distressed and acts decisively on their behalf. There are chapters in Scripture that feel like a sudden pivot point in history—a moment where the ordinary trajectory of a life is interrupted by a divine calling. 1 Samuel 10 is one of those chapters for me. It is a striking, complex, and deeply human look at what it means to be chosen.
When we read about Saul being anointed by Samuel, we often jump straight to the implications of kingship. But if we slow down, we see something much more profound happening in the quiet moments of the narrative. Samuel tells Saul, “The Spirit of the Lord will rush upon you, and you will prophesy with them and be turned into another man” (1 Samuel 10:6). The Gift of Transformation "Turned into another man." That is a radical statement. It suggests that the calling of God is never just a change in job description or a new set of responsibilities. When God calls us to a task, He is fundamentally interested in the condition of our hearts. He doesn't just ask us to do a work; He prepares us for it by the power of His Spirit. This is a beautiful reminder that our competency for the tasks God gives us doesn't originate in our own strengths, our own charisma, or our own planning. It comes from the Spirit’s work within us. It is the Spirit who softens our stubbornness, clarifies our vision, and gives us the courage to step into roles we might otherwise feel entirely unqualified to handle. The Temptation of the Baggage Perhaps the most relatable moment in the entire chapter occurs when it is time for Saul to be presented to the people. While everyone else is gathered, we find Saul hiding among the baggage . This is a powerful, convicting image. Even when we know God has spoken, and even when we have seen signs of His confirmation in our lives, our default instinct—at least, my default instinct—is often to hide. We feel the weight of expectation and the fear of inadequacy, so we find our own version of the “baggage” to hide behind. We find distractions, we nurture insecurities, and we tell ourselves we aren't ready. Yet, Saul couldn't stay in the baggage forever. The calling of God has a way of finding us, even when we are trying our best to remain hidden. A Call to Reliability Reflecting on this today, I am struck by the necessity of trust. Saul’s journey serves as a mirror for us. We are all called in various ways—to lead, to serve, to parent, to work with integrity in our spheres of influence. And we are all prone to the same temptations: to rely on our own efforts rather than the Spirit, or to hide when the call feels too heavy. The grace in 1 Samuel 10 isn't found in Saul’s perfection, but in the presence of the Spirit who was given to him to empower him for the task. We are invited to step out of the shadows of our own fear, to stop hiding among the baggage of our doubts, and to walk forward in the strength that God provides. God’s work in our lives is rarely about creating a flawless, powerful leader in our own strength. It is about creating a vessel that is willing to be changed, willing to be filled, and willing to be used. Today, may we be people who are ready to say yes, relying not on our own capacity, but on the One who is faithful to transform us for whatever task He has placed before us. We often think of divine encounters as grandiose moments—flashing lights, thunder, or sudden, dramatic life changes. Yet, when we open 1 Samuel 9, we find that one of the most pivotal moments in Israel’s history began with something incredibly mundane: a search for lost donkeys.
The Mundane as a Path to Purpose Saul’s journey is relatable on a very human level. He was simply trying to be a dutiful son, following his father’s instructions to track down their wandering livestock. He spent days on the road, walked through the hill country, and eventually grew weary and ready to quit. He wasn't looking for a kingdom; he was looking for animals. He was dealing with the frustration of a day that didn't go as planned. There is a profound lesson in this for us today. How many of our days are consumed by the "lost donkeys" of life? We are busy managing the logistical friction of our existence—the missed appointments, the unexpected repairs, the search for resources, the daily grind of responsibilities that yield no immediate glory. It is easy to view these tasks as interruptions or even failures. Yet, as Saul wandered, God was orchestrating an appointment. While Saul was concerned with the immediate and the trivial, God was working in the unseen realm, preparing to anoint him as the deliverer of Israel. God in the Detours This chapter challenges me to rethink how I view my own detours. When my plans are disrupted and I am forced to spend time "looking for donkeys," I tend to become anxious and impatient. I see the delay as an obstacle. But Saul’s story suggests that the delay was actually the vehicle for his destiny. He didn't find the donkeys he set out to look for, but he found something far greater: his purpose. I’m also struck by Saul’s response when Samuel reveals his calling. He doesn't puff out his chest; he shrinks back. "Am I not a Benjaminite, from the least of the tribes of Israel?" (1 Samuel 9:21) he asks. In a culture that often demands we market our strengths, Saul’s reaction is a reminder that the kingdom of God operates differently. God’s calling is not dependent on our credentials, our lineage, or our sense of self-importance. It is dependent on His choice. Saul’s inadequacy was not a barrier to God’s plan; it was the starting point for his reliance on the Lord. Trusting the Journey As I reflect on this passage, I am left with a simple question: What if the things I am currently frustrated by are not roadblocks, but the very path God is using to lead me toward something I cannot yet see? Maybe today is a day to stop viewing our "donkey-seeking" seasons with such disdain. Maybe we are meant to trust that the One who guides the steps of the wandering is the same One who establishes the destinies of His people. I want to live with a greater awareness that even in the ordinary, the unnoticed, and the seemingly unproductive moments, God is at work, orchestrating encounters that are far larger than the problems I am trying to solve. He is not just the God of the big breakthrough; He is the God of the journey, the God of the detour, and the God of the lost donkeys. And that is enough to change how I walk into tomorrow. As I read through 1 Samuel 8, I am struck by how quickly a moment of uncertainty can lead to a fundamental turning point in the human heart. Israel, facing the reality of Samuel’s aging leadership and the lack of integrity in his sons, comes to him with what sounds like a pragmatic, administrative request: “Now appoint for us a king to judge us like all the nations” (1 Samuel 8:5).
On the surface, it seems logical. They want security. They want order. They want someone they can see and touch to lead them through the complexities of their time. But as the narrative unfolds, we see that this request isn't just about leadership structure; it’s about a deep-seated spiritual crisis. The Trap of Cultural Conformity The phrase that haunts this entire passage is “like all the nations.” Israel was meant to be distinct—a people set apart by their relationship with Yahweh. But in this moment of vulnerability, their primary desire shifts. They no longer want to be distinct; they want to be conventional. How often do we find ourselves in that same place? When life feels chaotic or the future seems uncertain, our natural instinct is to look at what “everyone else” is doing. We start to believe that if we just had the same structures, the same visible security, or the same cultural acceptance that the world around us has, everything would be okay. We trade our identity as a people under God’s direct care for the comfort of conformity. The Rejection of Sovereignty The most sobering part of this chapter is God’s response to Samuel’s frustration. When Samuel prays about the people’s request, God tells him, “Obey the voice of the people in all that they say to you, for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them” (1 Samuel 8:7). It is a heavy truth. Israel was trying to exchange the Creator for a creature. They wanted a king because they wanted to control the variables of their existence, and they found the absolute sovereignty of God too uncomfortable, too unpredictable. It makes me stop and ask: where am I rejecting God’s sovereignty in my own life today? I might not be asking for a political king, but am I insisting on my own way? Am I looking to my own plans, my own resources, or the approval of others as my “king” instead of trusting God as my ultimate authority? The Reality of the Trade God instructs Samuel to warn the people about the cost of this new king. He details how this king will take their sons, their daughters, their fields, and their taxes. It is a clear picture: they are trading their freedom under God for the heavy burden of human rule. We often think that by taking control, we are liberating ourselves, but 1 Samuel 8 shows us the opposite. When we choose to build our own kingdoms—or when we choose to follow the patterns of the world rather than the leading of the Spirit—we often find ourselves enslaved to the very things we thought would save us. The people of Israel persisted in their request, effectively choosing the world’s way over God’s way. But for us, this passage serves as an invitation to self-reflection. Today, let’s consider who is truly sitting on the throne of our lives. Are we chasing the security of “the nations,” or are we willing to rest in the invisible but absolute care of our God? May we be a people who are comfortable being distinct, who choose the weight of God's presence over the burden of our own self-made kingdoms. God is faithful, and He is sufficient. We don’t need an earthly king to secure our future; we only need to trust the One who already holds it. As I sit with 1 Samuel 7 today, I am struck by how easily our hearts can drift into a state of divided devotion. After twenty years of the Ark being at Kiriath-jearim, the people of Israel began to lament after the Lord. It’s a feeling many of us know—that quiet, persistent ache when we realize we’ve moved away from our spiritual center.
The Call to Wholeheartedness Samuel’s response to their lament is direct: "If you are returning to the Lord with all your heart, then put away the foreign gods... and direct your heart to the Lord and serve him only" (1 Samuel 7:3). It is a sobering reminder that repentance is more than just a feeling of sadness; it requires a physical and spiritual "putting away." In our modern lives, idols are rarely statues. They are more likely to be the subtle things we look to for security, validation, or comfort instead of God. True return begins when we identify these competing loyalties and choose to clear the space they’ve occupied. The Power of Intercession When the people gathered at Mizpah, they fasted and confessed, but they also recognized their need for a mediator. As the Philistines approached to attack, the people pleaded with Samuel, "Do not cease to cry out to the Lord our God for us" (1 Samuel 7:8). I find so much comfort in the image of Samuel interceding while the enemy was literally on the horizon. It reminds me that we don't have to face our battles with a perfect, unaided faith. We have the privilege of praying for one another, and ultimately, we have a Great High Priest who never ceases to intercede for us even when we feel most vulnerable. Our Own Ebenezers The most iconic moment of this chapter is when Samuel sets up a stone between Mizpah and Shen, naming it Ebenezer, saying, "Till now the Lord has helped us" (1 Samuel 7:12). This stone wasn't a monument to a completed journey, but a marker of God’s faithfulness in the "now." We all need our own "stones of help"—intentional markers of remembrance that anchor us when future storms arrive. Looking back at my own life, I can see those "Ebenezer" moments where God’s grace was the only thing that carried me through. These memories are not just nostalgia; they are fuel for future trust. When we remember how He helped us "till now," we find the courage to believe He will help us through whatever comes next. Today, I’m asking myself: What do I need to put away to return fully to Him? And where can I set a marker of His help in my life right now? As we continue our journey through 1 Samuel, we are invited to look deeper into the narrative that frames our understanding of God’s sovereignty and the posture of our own hearts. The account in 1 Samuel 6—the return of the Ark of the Covenant—serves as a poignant reminder that God’s presence is not something to be managed or manipulated, but to be revered.
The Danger of Controlling the Divine In these passages, we see the Philistines caught in the wake of the power of the living God. They are forced to reckon with the reality that Yahweh is not like the idols they serve. Their response, driven by fear and a desire to see if they can somehow mitigate the "hand of God" upon them, highlights a universal human tendency: we often try to control or appease the divine rather than bowing in humble obedience. God's Mission Beyond Our Logic As I sit with this chapter, I am struck by the stark contrast between human maneuvering and the holiness of God. The Ark, representing the very presence of God, returns to Beth Shemesh not because of human strategy, but because God is determined to be known among the nations. It is a sobering reminder that God’s mission moves forward despite our confusion, our idols, and our attempts to "figure out" his will through our own logic. In our own lives, how often do we treat God like an object to be managed rather than the King to be followed? We might have our own "Philistine-like" moments where we try to test God or distance ourselves from his holiness because it feels too disruptive to our status quo. Our Need for a Mediator Yet, this chapter also points us toward the bigger story—the one that leads us to see our desperate need for a Mediator. We see a people struggling to stand in the presence of a holy God. It reinforces why we so deeply need the grace that has been revealed to us through Jesus. Unlike the people of Beth Shemesh who were struck by the weight of the Ark, we have been invited to approach the throne of grace with boldness. So as I reflect on His holiness, I’m forced to ask myself: Where am I trying to "manage" God in my life instead of surrendering to his holiness? How does the holiness of God impact the way I approach him in prayer today? In moments where I feel like an outsider looking at God’s power, how can I move toward reverence instead of fear? God is at work, unfolding his kingdom even when the landscape seems chaotic or confusing. May we be a people who, unlike those who simply wanted the "hand of God" removed from their vicinity, invite his presence to transform our hearts and our communities. |
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Office Hours: Mon-Fri, 9am-3pm. | (c) 2024, Dryden Full Gospel Church