The God of Neverending Faith

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1 Praise the LORD.Praise the LORD, my soul. 2 I will praise the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. 3 Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save. 4 When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing. 5 Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD their God. 6 He is the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them— he remains faithful forever. 7 He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free, 8 the LORD gives sight to the blind, the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down, the LORD loves the righteous. 9 The LORD watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked. 10 The LORD reigns forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations. Praise the LORD. (Psalm 146 NIV)

There’s probably a photograph somewhere in your home—or in your parents’ home—likely black-and-white or sepia-toned, maybe even set in an oval frame. It shows a couple who means something to you and your family. They may be your great- (times however many) grandparents. That photo is evidence that they lived, even though you never met them. You might not even know their names. Still, they were real, and they remain real in the memories and hearts of those who once knew them. To doubt their existence serves no purpose. A recent video showed a little girl of about maybe three who as she sees a video of her parent's wedding exclaims, "You had a wedding without me?? I'm a part of this family, and you didn't include me!?" It's hilarious as her parents are laughing and she's quite distraught about the oversight of excluding her!

And if the photo happens to be of your parents on their wedding day, then the proof of their existence is you—because from them came you.

With that in mind, I ask: Who made God real to you? And I hope that God is, indeed, real to you, or at least real for you.

I am blessed that many people helped make God real in my life—my parents, my paternal grandmother, my pastors, my Sunday school teachers, and my friends in youth group. I have never met God in person, but God has revealed Himself to me in more ways than I can count.

Those who come to recognize and accept the reality of God often find their outlook on life becoming more positive and secure. Such was the case for David, the king, whose life was rooted entirely in the knowledge and reality of God. As we examine this psalm we get solid evidence of his faith and joy in God. Advent is the time we prepare for the coming of a king. The psalmist begins with a deeply personal declaration: "Praise the Lord, my soul." This isn't corporate worship or public performance—it's an internal conversation, the soul instructing itself to praise. Sometimes we need to preach to ourselves, to command our own souls to worship when feelings lag behind truth. The commitment is total and lifelong: "I will praise the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live." Not just in good seasons or when things go well, not just in youth or when praise comes easily, but all my life, as long as I live. This is the decision to make praise a defining characteristic of existence, to let worship be the soundtrack of life from beginning to end. During Advent, we reflect on why this God—and only this God—deserves such unwavering devotion, remembering that He proved His worthiness by entering our world as a vulnerable baby.

The psalm then issues a warning about misplaced trust: "Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save. When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing." Princes represent the pinnacle of human power—wealthy, influential, connected, resourceful. Yet they cannot save. They're mortal, limited, temporary. When they die, their grand schemes evaporate. The policies they championed, the systems they built, the promises they made—all can vanish in a single generation. Mary and Joseph knew this reality—living under the oppressive rule of Herod and Caesar, powerful men who could not ultimately save anyone, whose kingdoms would crumble into dust. Then comes the contrast: "Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God." The God of Jacob—the one who wrestled with a scheming, flawed, struggling man and blessed him anyway—this is the God worthy of our trust. He specializes in working with imperfect people in impossible situations. During Advent, we celebrate that this God didn't send a prince to save us but became a baby born to peasants, entering the world not through power but through vulnerability, establishing a kingdom that would outlast every earthly empire.

The psalmist then catalogs why the Lord is trustworthy: "He is the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them—he remains faithful forever." Start with credentials: Creator of all that exists. The one who spoke galaxies into being, who set planets in motion, who designed DNA and ecosystems—this God has the power to keep His promises. But power without faithfulness is tyranny. What makes God trustworthy isn't just His might but His character: "he remains faithful forever." Not faithful until He gets bored, not faithful until we fail Him, not faithful until something better comes along—faithful forever. Then the psalm describes what this faithful God does: "He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets prisoners free, the Lord gives sight to the blind, the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down, the Lord loves the righteous." This is precisely what Mary sang about in her Magnificat when she learned she would bear the Messiah: God scattering the proud, bringing down rulers, lifting up the humble, filling the hungry with good things. This catalog of God's actions became Jesus' mission statement. When asked if He was the Messiah, Jesus pointed to these very signs: the blind see, prisoners are freed, the oppressed are lifted up, good news comes to the poor. Advent celebrates that God doesn't just promise to help the vulnerable—He became vulnerable Himself, born in a stable, laid in a manger, a refugee fleeing violence, identifying completely with those who suffer.

The psalm continues: "The Lord watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked." Three categories appear repeatedly in Scripture as tests of a society's righteousness: foreigners, orphans, and widows—those without citizenship status, parental protection, or spousal provision. God watches over them personally, sustains them directly. The Christmas story is filled with precisely these people: Mary, a young woman of no status; Joseph, a carpenter of no influence; shepherds, among the lowest social class; Magi, foreigners from the east. God revealed the Messiah's birth not to princes in palaces but to the marginalized and the outsiders. Meanwhile, God actively frustrates the wicked—Herod's attempt to kill the Christ child failed, Caesar's empire eventually crumbled, and the powers that crucified Jesus couldn't keep Him in the tomb. God isn't neutral; He takes sides. The psalm concludes with a triumphant declaration: "The Lord reigns forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations. Praise the Lord." Human rulers come and go. Empires rise and fall. Political systems shift and change. But the Lord reigns forever. The baby born in Bethlehem grew to announce, "My kingdom is not of this world." His reign began in a manger and will never end. Angels sang "Glory to God in the highest" because they recognized that this child would establish an everlasting kingdom where the hungry are fed, prisoners are freed, the blind see, and the bowed down are lifted up. This is why Advent stirs such hope—we're not waiting for a better politician or a more just system, but for the King who reigns forever and whose kingdom will have no end.

This psalm challenges us during Advent to examine where we've placed our ultimate trust. Are we relying on political solutions, economic security, institutional power, or personal connections to provide what only God can give? Are we aligning ourselves with God's priorities—caring for the oppressed, feeding the hungry, welcoming foreigners, protecting orphans and widows? Or have we accommodated ourselves to systems that do the opposite? The call to praise isn't just about singing songs; it's about living in alignment with the character of the God we worship. If we praise the God who feeds the hungry, we must feed the hungry. If we worship the God who lifts up the bowed down, we must participate in that lifting. If we trust the God who watches over foreigners, we must welcome the stranger. Advent reminds us that the King we're celebrating didn't stay in heaven's comfort but came to earth's chaos, didn't remain in glory but embraced humility, didn't protect His power but gave His life. Praise that doesn't shape priorities isn't true praise—it's just religious noise. As we light Advent candles and sing carols about the baby in the manger, we're declaring our allegiance to the King who reigns forever and calling ourselves to live as citizens of His upside-down kingdom where the last are first, the weak are strong, and God sides with the vulnerable.

PRAYER: Lord, our faithful Creator who never fails, thank You for not sending a distant prince to save us but for becoming Emmanuel—God with us—born as a vulnerable baby to show us that Your kingdom operates by different rules than earthly powers; teach us to trust You above all earthly rulers and to align our lives with Your heart for the oppressed, the hungry, the imprisoned, the blind, the bowed down, the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow—may our Advent praise be more than words but a life that reflects Your character, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: his Advent, move beyond singing God's praise to embodying it by taking one concrete action that reflects the character of the King born in Bethlehem—whether feeding the hungry, advocating for the oppressed, or welcoming the foreigner in your community, living as a citizen of His eternal kingdom.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, and you matter to me! Help others believe in God by the way you share life with them.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Life Comes When God Shows Up

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1 The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the LORD, the splendor of our God. 3 Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; 4 say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.” 5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. 6 Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. 7 The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow. 8 And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it. 9 No lion will be there, nor any ravenous beast; they will not be found there. But only the redeemed will walk there, 10 and those the LORD has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away. (Isaiah 35:1-10 NIV)

Several times in my academic life, I had the opportunity to drive past the billboards that advertised Palo Duro Canyon as The Grand Canyon of Texas. I laughed the first time I saw it disbelieving such a claim. Mind you, I had never seen either, but at least I had seen pictures of the Grand Canyon. And off I drove. It was not until I was married and had a family did I brave a drive into the most amazing and awe-dropping canyon in Texas that is Palo Duro. We drove there in a borrowed RV that Nellie's brother insisted we take, and our stay there was an incredible experience. It had just rained in the canyon and the flowers and all vegetation shouted praise to God in that special place of Texas. There is so many blessings in rain especially when it visits the parched lands we know and love.

Advent is a season of hope; the coming of something awesome and beautiful, and here the prophet Isaiah, blessed by his calling from God to share the unseen that would be seen someday, Isaiah paints a vision of impossible transformation that captures the essence of what we're waiting for. "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom." Deserts don't bloom. Parched land doesn't produce joy. Wilderness doesn't break into singing. Yet Isaiah prophesies exactly this—the barren becoming fruitful, the dead becoming alive, the hopeless becoming joyful. This isn't gradual improvement or slow recovery; it's explosive transformation: "Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy." The crocus is one of the first flowers to appear after winter, pushing through frozen ground to announce spring's arrival. Isaiah uses this image to describe what happens when God intervenes—life erupts where death reigned, beauty emerges from barrenness, joy explodes from sorrow. "The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the Lord, the splendor of our God." The lush forests of Lebanon, the fertile slopes of Carmel, the beautiful plain of Sharon—all symbols of natural abundance—will pale in comparison to the glory revealed when God restores His creation. During Advent, we celebrate that this transformation began with a baby born in Bethlehem, and we await its completion when He returns.

Isaiah then shifts to addressing people in the midst of waiting: "Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, 'Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.'" This is pastoral care in the wilderness—encouraging those whose hands are too weak to hold on, whose knees are buckling under the weight of waiting, whose hearts are gripped by fear. The word to them is direct and powerful: "Be strong, do not fear." Not because circumstances aren't dire, not because the waiting isn't long, but because "your God will come." Notice the personal pronoun—not "a god" or "the God" but "your God." The One coming belongs to you, knows you, loves you, and is coming specifically to save you. The mention of "vengeance" and "divine retribution" isn't about vindictive rage but about justice finally being done, wrongs being made right, oppressors being stopped, and the vulnerable being vindicated. God comes both to judge evil and to save His people—these aren't contradictory but complementary. The same coming that brings terror to oppressors brings salvation to the oppressed. During Advent, we remember that Jesus' first coming emphasized salvation; His second coming will complete both salvation and justice.

Isaiah then describes what happens when God arrives: "Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy." This is precisely what Jesus pointed to when John the Baptist questioned whether He was really the Messiah. Jesus was fulfilling Isaiah's prophecy—the Messianic age had dawned, and the signs were unmistakable. But notice that healing is just the beginning: "Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs." Not just a trickle but a gush, not just moisture but streams, not just dampness but pools and springs. Where there was only death-dealing heat, there will be life-giving water. "In the haunts of jackals, where each lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow." Even the places where wild animals made their dens—dangerous, uninhabitable places—will become gardens. Nothing is beyond God's transforming power. No desert too barren, no wilderness too wild, no life too broken.

The passage culminates with a vision of the highway of holiness: "And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it." This isn't an exclusive club for the already-perfect but a protected path for God's redeemed people. "No lion will be there, nor any ravenous beast; they will not be found there. But only the redeemed will walk there, and those the Lord has rescued will return." The dangers that threaten pilgrims—predators, bandits, wrong turns—are removed. This is a safe passage home for those who have been in exile, lost, or captivity. "They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." This is the destination: Zion, the city of God, entered not with exhaustion but with singing, not with resignation but with joy. And this joy isn't temporary or fragile—it's everlasting, crowning their heads like a permanent diadem. Gladness and joy don't just meet them; they overtake them, pursuing and capturing them. Meanwhile, sorrow and sighing—the constant companions of life in a broken world—flee away, unable to survive in the presence of God's glory. This is the world we're waiting for during Advent, the reality inaugurated in Jesus' first coming and to be completed in His return—deserts blooming, blind seeing, lame leaping, captives freed, exiles returning home, and everlasting joy replacing every sorrow.

PRAYER: God of impossible transformation, thank You for the promise that deserts will bloom, the blind will see, captives will be freed, and everlasting joy will replace sorrow—during this Advent, strengthen our feeble hands and fearful hearts as we wait for the full arrival of Your kingdom, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Advent, look for one "desert" area in your life or community and ask God to show you a sign of His transforming work—a small bloom of hope, a trickle of living water, a glimpse of the coming kingdom.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Be the life that God wants people to have; share a smile and hope with those in need.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Patience Is a Virtue, But I Don't Have the Time...

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7 Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. 8 You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. 9 Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! 10 As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. (James 5:7-10 NRSV) Patience is on the big list of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. It's fourth on that list. So, we can say it's a big deal. As I'm typing this I'm thinking of the situations and settings where patience is just missing. I think of the way some Texas drivers drive. And the old joke about "If you took all the cars in the world and lined them all up in one line, some idiot from Houston would stil be tryinig to pass them!" I think about a groom at the altar as he awaits his bride to make the march to him. I think about moms about to deliver their firstborn and their husbands and grandparents. And I always think about the song by the group The Talking Heads, No Compassion that says, "They say that patience is a virtue, but I don't have the time," a reflection on the perception of reality of patience in modern day life.

The patience here is what Paul is asking believers have as they await the coming of the Lord. Paul's once urgent message about Jesus coming soon, had changed as the days, weeks, months, and years made people wonder, "Where is Jesus?" And more so as more and more loved ones died at the hands of the government persecution and execution of believers. "Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord." The word "therefore" points back to the preceding verses where James has been addressing injustice, oppression, and the suffering of the righteous. His counsel to those enduring hardship isn't "fight back" or "demand your rights" or "take matters into your own hands." It's "be patient." This isn't passive resignation but active, expectant waiting rooted in confidence that the Lord is coming. The Greek word for "patient" (makrothymeō) literally means "long-tempered"—the opposite of short-tempered. It's the capacity to endure difficult circumstances without losing hope, to wait through delays without giving up, to suffer injustice without seeking revenge. James addresses his readers as "beloved"—a tender reminder that they're loved by God even when circumstances suggest otherwise. During Advent, we practice this patience, remembering that God's timing isn't our timing, that His delays are purposeful, and that waiting itself is formative.

James then offers a powerful metaphor: "The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains." In Israel's agricultural calendar, the early rains came in October/November to soften the ground for plowing and planting, while the late rains came in March/April to bring the crops to maturity before harvest. Between these rains was a long season of waiting—months when the farmer could do nothing but trust that the seed was germinating underground, that roots were developing, that growth was happening even when nothing was visible. The farmer's patience isn't passive; it's grounded in knowledge of how seeds grow and confidence that rain will come. Similarly, our Advent waiting is informed by knowledge of what God has promised and confidence that He keeps His word. "You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near." The command to "strengthen your hearts" suggests that patience requires active effort—we must fortify ourselves against doubt, discouragement, and despair. We strengthen our hearts by remembering God's faithfulness, rehearsing His promises, and encouraging one another. The motivation is clear: "the coming of the Lord is near." This wasn't just for James' original readers; every generation lives in the reality that Christ's return is imminent, that history is moving toward its appointed conclusion, that our waiting has a definite end.

James then addresses a danger that emerges during long seasons of waiting: "Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors!" When we're suffering and waiting feels endless, we become irritable, critical, and quick to find fault with fellow believers. Waiting reveals character flaws we might otherwise keep hidden. James warns against grumbling—the bitter complaining that erodes community and reveals hearts that have stopped trusting God's goodness. The word "grumble" (stenazō) can also mean "sigh" or "groan"—it's the internal frustration that finds expression in criticism of others. James' warning is sobering: if we judge our brothers and sisters, we'll be judged. The Judge is standing at the doors—not far away or delayed, but right at the threshold, about to enter. This should make us take seriously how we treat one another during seasons of difficulty. Our impatience with each other reveals our impatience with God. Our criticism of fellow believers often masks our disappointment with God's timing.

James concludes with a call to remember exemplars of faithful endurance: "As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord." The prophets experienced rejection, persecution, imprisonment, and martyrdom. They proclaimed God's word faithfully even when it was ignored, mocked, or violently opposed. They waited for promises to be fulfilled—promises they often didn't see in their lifetimes. Yet they remained faithful. Their patience wasn't naive optimism but battle-tested endurance forged through suffering. They're examples not because their waiting was easy but because they kept going when it was hard. During Advent, we join a long line of faithful waiters—Abraham waiting for a son, Moses waiting to enter the Promised Land, the exiles waiting to return home, the prophets waiting for the Messiah, the disciples waiting for the Spirit, the early church waiting for Christ's return. We're part of this great cloud of witnesses who have learned that God is worth waiting for, that His promises are trustworthy, and that patient endurance produces character, hope, and ultimately joy. The season of Advent trains us for the larger reality of Christian life—we're people who live between the advents, who have seen Christ come once and await His coming again, who experience the kingdom's arrival while longing for its fullness, who know the end of the story while still living in the middle chapters. Our waiting isn't empty or meaningless; it's purposeful, formative, and certain to end when the Lord returns.

PRAYER: Lord, give us patient hearts to wait well for Your coming, strengthen us against discouragement and grumbling, and help us remember the prophets who endured suffering while trusting Your promises—teach us that waiting for You is never wasted time but the very process through which You form us into Your likeness, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: When you feel impatient with God's timing or tempted to grumble against others, pause and ask God what He might be growing in you during this season of waiting that couldn't develop any other way, trusting that like the farmer's crop, spiritual maturity requires both early and late rains.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Show others patience in how you live your life trusting in the Lord.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Joe Cool

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2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3 and said to him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" 4 Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." 7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written, "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' 11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. (Matthew 11:2-11 NRSV)

Dear Friend, welcome to Monday! I pray this be a time of uplift and strength. We have received some requests, and being believers in Christ Jesus, we pray! We pray in faith expecting God to respond according to His will. Please pray for a young man, Eldon Segar, who sprained his ankle a few weeks ago and sadly, it hasn't gotten better. He is in a boot and on crutches. He returns to the doctor this week and we pray that God's touch, time, and the antibiotics are healing him. This prayer request was shared by Ms. Barbara Segar, who also asks prayers for her church, Skidmore UMC, who is facing survival issues. They had three in worship and after lunch had a joyous fellowship time in Hanging of the Greens. Pray for pastors and members of all churchces especially those who also face uncertain futures. Pray for one another. Pray for those who think they don't have a prayer.

In my first year of college, I met and befriended a young man who was, in my opinion, precisely the guy Charles Schultz had in mind when he drew Snoopy as Joe Cool. This friend was soft-spoken, thoughtful, reflective and even philosophical, yes, even as a freshman. He and I discovered that one of the windows in our dorm would open out to what was for all intents and purposes, a balcony viewing the front street of our college. And as the day was winding down he and I would reflect on the day's activities and classes. He also knew how to dress in a way that said, "I am Joe Cool." One day as we were in our bull session, a young lady was making her way down the sidewalk and Joe said, of course not loud enough for her to hear, "Are you the one who is to come, or shall I wait for another?" I think my laughter scared that young lady, for it was unexpected; using a biblical passage in an unexpected manner. It became an accepted greeting among male friends from that point on.

Okay, Joe Cool is over. We get to the heart of this passage, an intense one in which the human condition meets the struggles of faith. John the Baptist was arrested for speaking out truth to a diabolical leader, who had maneuvered his way into marrying the wife of his brother, while his brother was still alive, and John spoke out with truth. King Herod did not like hearing himself called an adulterous man and had him arrested. Some scholars believe it may have also been because the crowds following John grew bigger and bigger, thus posing a political threat to Herod. John, while in prison, came to know that his life was not long for this earth, and that death would be visiting him soon enough. It's during this time that he sends word to Jesus and asks the question: "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" He needed to know, "Are you the Messiah?" After centuries of waiting, John asks if the waiting was over or was the wait to continue? John the Baptist—the one who leaped in his mother's womb at Mary's greeting, who baptized Jesus and saw the Spirit descend like a dove, who declared "Behold, the Lamb of God"—is now sitting in Herod's prison sending messengers to ask, "Are you really the one?" This is stunning. John, who was so certain at the Jordan River, is now questioning everything from a dark cell. His doubt doesn't come from lack of evidence but from unmet expectations. John had proclaimed a Messiah who would wield a winnowing fork, burn chaff with unquenchable fire, and bring decisive judgment. Instead, Jesus is healing the sick, eating with sinners, and teaching about mercy. Where's the fire? Where's the judgment? Where's the revolution? And perhaps most painfully—if Jesus is really the Messiah, why is John still in prison? During Advent, we often struggle with the same tension: we wait for God to act, yet His timeline and methods don't match our expectations. We believe Jesus is the answer, yet circumstances suggest otherwise. John's honest question gives us permission to bring our doubts to Jesus rather than pretending they don't exist.

Jesus' response is remarkable—He doesn't rebuke John for doubting or offer philosophical arguments. Instead, He points to evidence: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them." Jesus is quoting Isaiah's prophecies about the Messianic age—these are the signs that God's kingdom has arrived. But notice what's missing from the list: no mention of judgment, no fire consuming the wicked, no liberation of political prisoners like John. Jesus is saying, "I am doing exactly what the Messiah was prophesied to do, but the judgment you're expecting comes later. First comes mercy, healing, restoration, and good news for the poor." Then Jesus adds, "And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." This is both gentle and challenging. John is offended—scandalized—that Jesus isn't meeting his expectations. Jesus essentially says, "Blessed are those who don't stumble over the gap between who they expected me to be and who I actually am." During Advent, we celebrate that Jesus came not as we expected—not as a conquering warrior but as a vulnerable baby, not to the palace but to a stable, not with vengeance but with mercy. The call is to trust Him even when He doesn't match our script.

After John's messengers leave, Jesus turns to the crowd and speaks powerfully about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind?" John was no reed bending with popular opinion or political pressure. He stood firm even when it cost him everything. "What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces." John wasn't a comfortable court prophet telling kings what they wanted to hear. He wore camel hair, ate locusts, and spoke truth to power—which is why he was in prison. "What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet." John wasn't just predicting the Messiah's coming; he was preparing the way, baptizing the Messiah, and fulfilling ancient prophecy himself. "This is the one about whom it is written: 'See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.'" Jesus honors John by identifying him as the messenger prophesied in Malachi—the Elijah figure who would prepare God's people for the Lord's coming. Despite John's doubt, despite his unmet expectations, despite his imprisonment—Jesus declares his greatness.

Then Jesus makes a startling statement: "Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he." This isn't diminishing John—it's elevating the kingdom. John stood at the threshold, announcing the kingdom's arrival but not fully entering it. He prepared the way but didn't walk the full path. Those who come after Jesus' death and resurrection, who experience the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, who live in the reality of the new covenant—even the "least" of these has advantages John never had. This is the stunning privilege of living on this side of the cross and empty tomb. We have what the prophets longed to see. We know the end of the story John was still questioning. We've received the Spirit John could only anticipate. During Advent, we remember that we're not just waiting for Jesus to come—He has come, He is coming, and He will come again. We live in the "already but not yet," with greater insight than even the greatest prophet of the old covenant. Yet like John, we still struggle with unmet expectations, unanswered questions, and the tension between what we hoped for and what we're experiencing. The invitation of Advent is to bring our honest questions to Jesus, to trust Him even when He doesn't meet our expectations, and to recognize that His way of establishing the kingdom—through mercy before judgment, healing before revolution, good news to the poor before vindication of the faithful—is better than our way.

PRAYER: Lord Jesus, when our expectations don't match Your methods and our circumstances make us question Your promises, help us trust that You are doing exactly what the Messiah came to do—bringing mercy, healing, and good news—even when we long for immediate judgment and deliverance; give us grace to not be offended when You don't match our script, in Your strong name we pray, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Advent, bring one specific doubt or unmet expectation to Jesus honestly in prayer, asking Him to show you the evidence of His kingdom work that you might be missing because you're looking for something different than what He's actually doing.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, to me, and so many others; life wihout you would not be the same!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

A King Who Cares (Thursday, Dec. 4, 2025)

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Hear the devo: https://bit.ly/4pMVp3y

View the devo: https://bit.ly/4pfcd37

1 Endow the king with your justice, O God, the royal son with your righteousness. 2 May he judge your people in righteousness, your afflicted ones with justice. 3 May the mountains bring prosperity to the people, the hills the fruit of righteousness.4 May he defend the afflicted among the people and save the children of the needy; may he crush the oppressor. 5 May he endure as long as the sun, as long as the moon, through all generations. 6 May he be like rain falling on a mown field, like showers watering the earth. 7 In his days may the righteous flourish and prosperity abound till the moon is no more. 10 May the kings of Tarshish and of distant shores bring tribute to him. May the kings of Sheba and Seba present him gifts. 11 May all kings bow down to him and all nations serve him. 12 For he will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. 13 He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death. 14 He will rescue them from oppression and violence, for precious is their blood in his sight. (Psalm 72: 1-7, 10-14 NIV)

Jesus meant to say where two or three are gathered, there could be trouble. And further, He could have said that about kings; where two or three are gathered, there will BE trouble, for earthly kings are not usually known for their humility and care for anything other than themselves. Yet, here we have the most famous of earth's kings, King David, writing in a positive way, about another king, one in whom he has a lot of care and concern for. While many believe this prayer was written for his own son, Solomon, it is very much a prophetic prayer for the ultimate king, King Jesus.

Human kings need God's justice and righteousness precisely because they lack it naturally. Every earthly ruler falls short, compromises, shows favoritism, or uses power for personal gain. But this prayer envisions a king so filled with God's own justice and righteousness that his reign perfectly reflects God's character. "May he judge your people in righteousness, your afflicted ones with justice." Notice the concern for "your afflicted ones"—the marginalized, the oppressed, the vulnerable. True righteousness isn't just theological correctness; it's practical care for those society overlooks. During Advent, we prepare to celebrate the birth of the King who was himself born among the afflicted, laid in a manger because there was no room in the inn, a refugee fleeing Herod's violence, God entering the world through the doorway of poverty and vulnerability.

The psalm continues with an extraordinary vision: "May the mountains bring prosperity to the people, the hills the fruit of righteousness. May he defend the afflicted among the people and save the children of the needy; may he crush the oppressor." This king's reign transforms even the landscape—mountains and hills produce prosperity and righteousness as if the very earth responds to just leadership. But more importantly, this king actively defends and saves—he's not a passive figurehead but an engaged champion of the vulnerable. He defends the afflicted, saves the children of the needy, and crushes the oppressor. These three actions define righteous kingship: protecting those who can't protect themselves, rescuing those in desperate circumstances, and stopping those who exploit and harm. "May he endure as long as the sun, as long as the moon, through all generations." This moves beyond any human king—Solomon's reign ended, David's dynasty fell, but this prayer envisions eternal reign. Only Jesus fulfills this longing for a King whose rule never ends, whose throne is established forever.

The psalm uses beautiful imagery to describe the King's reign: "May he be like rain falling on a mown field, like showers watering the earth. In his days may the righteous flourish and prosperity abound till the moon is no more." Rain on a mown field—after harvest when the ground is cut bare, rain brings new growth, fresh life, future hope. This King's presence is like life-giving rain to parched souls, bringing flourishing to the righteous and prosperity that endures. This isn't "prosperity gospel" promising material wealth to believers, but the comprehensive flourishing of communities where righteousness reigns—where justice is done, the poor are protected, children are safe, and oppression is crushed. It's shalom, the Hebrew word encompassing peace, wholeness, completeness, welfare, prosperity in the fullest sense. "May he rule from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth." The geographic scope keeps expanding—from local rule to universal dominion. Solomon's kingdom had defined borders, but this vision sees a reign that encompasses the whole earth. Only Jesus fulfills this—the King before whom every knee will bow, whose kingdom knows no boundaries.

The psalm then describes the nations' response: "May the kings of Tarshish and of distant shores bring tribute to him. May the kings of Sheba and Seba present him gifts. May all kings bow down to him and all nations serve him." The Magi from the east fulfilling this prophecy at Jesus' birth—bringing gold, frankincense, and myrrh, foreign dignitaries bowing before a baby in a stable. The psalm explains why the nations will bow: "For he will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death. He will rescue them from oppression and violence, for precious is their blood in his sight." This is why kings bow and nations serve—not because of military might or economic power, but because of His character. This King values what others dismiss. He hears cries that others ignore. He takes pity where others feel contempt. He rescues those others exploit. "Precious is their blood in his sight"—every person, especially the vulnerable and needy, has infinite value to this King. He doesn't sacrifice the weak for the powerful's benefit; He gives Himself for the weak.

During Advent, as we light candles and sing carols, we're declaring that the King described in Psalm 72 has come in Jesus Christ. He was born as one of the needy, lived among the afflicted, welcomed children, defended the marginalized, confronted oppressors, and ultimately gave His own blood because ours was precious in His sight. His first coming inaugurated the kingdom of justice and righteousness. His second coming will complete it—establishing the reign where prosperity abounds, the righteous flourish, oppression ends, and shalom covers the earth. We live between the advents, in the "already but not yet," working for justice now while we wait for justice fully realized, defending the afflicted now while we anticipate the day when there are no more afflicted, offering ourselves for the needy now while we await the King who will wipe away every tear. Advent calls us to be people shaped by the character of the coming King—those who value what He values, defend whom He defends, and live as citizens of His eternal kingdom of righteousness and peace.

PRAYER: Righteous King, we praise You for being endowed with God's justice and caring for the afflicted, the needy, and the oppressed—during this Advent season, shape us into people who reflect Your kingdom values, defending the vulnerable, pursuing justice, and living as those who believe Your reign of righteousness and peace is coming, in Your holy name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Identify one way you can practically defend, save, or advocate for someone who is afflicted, needy, or oppressed in your community, living as a citizen of the King's kingdom where the vulnerable are valued and protected.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, and you matter to me! Make life matter to those whom God sends to you to bless.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Our God of Life (Wednesday, Dec. 3, 2025)

Hear devo: https://bit.ly/4petglY

View devo: https://bit.ly/3XsX2HB

1 A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. 2 The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him— the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD— 3 and he will delight in the fear of the LORD. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; 4 but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth; with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked. 5 Righteousness will be his belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist. 6 The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. 7 The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. 8 The infant will play near the cobra’s den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest. 9 They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the LORDas the waters cover the sea. 10 In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious. (Isaiah 11:1-11 NIV)

Our first home in Houston was an apartment that bordered an empty lot where remnants of concrete steps, and other clues that the original building had fallen to some sort of catastrophe. We would learn later that it was a huge home that burned down to the ground and one of the victims in that fire had been a baby, whose cries we heard on the anniversary night of the fire. But I share this, not to scare you, but to remind you that death was all you could see on this lot. The building was gone, leaving only steps. The overgrowth was of weeds and trees, but death had clearly won. Yes, there were a couple of stumps of where large trees had once had life. A stump is a natural headstone to the life that once was the tree. The once-was is now a goodbye monument. But as the prophet speaks of what is to come; this Advent event, he says that out of that stump will come life; a branch will bear fruit; and not only fruit, this branch will have the Spirit of the Lord resting upon Him; a Spirit of wisdom and understanding, a Spirit of counsel and of might; a Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord. Advent is the season of waiting for the impossible; a new start after the final goodbye. The Davidic dynasty, which seemed so glorious under David and Solomon, has been reduced to a stump through disobedience, defeat, and exile. The royal family that once ruled from Jerusalem's palace now lives in obscurity in Bethlehem, Jesse's hometown. Everything appears over. But Isaiah prophesies that from this dead-looking stump, a shoot will emerge—tender, green, alive, growing. This is the essence of Advent hope: God specializes in bringing life from death, renewal from ruins, future from failure. The Branch that will bear fruit doesn't come from the tree at its height but from the stump at its lowest point. Christmas celebrates that when God seemed most absent, when His promises seemed most broken, when hope seemed most foolish—that's precisely when He acted. The shoot from Jesse's stump is Jesus, born not in a palace but in a stable, not to earthly power but in humility, fulfilling ancient promises in unexpected ways.

Isaiah then describes what will rest upon this Branch: "The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord." This is the sevenfold Spirit, the fullness of God's presence and power resting permanently on the coming King. Not visiting occasionally or empowering temporarily, but resting—dwelling, remaining, abiding. At Jesus' baptism, the Spirit descends and remains on Him like a dove, confirming Isaiah's prophecy. This King will have wisdom—seeing reality as God sees it; understanding—discerning the heart of matters; counsel—giving perfect guidance; might—possessing the power to accomplish God's purposes; knowledge of the Lord—intimate relationship with the Father; and fear of the Lord—proper reverence and obedience. "And he will delight in the fear of the Lord." Most rulers delight in power, wealth, or acclaim. This King delights in honoring God, in doing the Father's will, in living in reverent submission. During Advent, we prepare to celebrate the arrival of a King unlike any other—one whose greatness comes from His perfect relationship with God, whose power flows from the Spirit's fullness, whose reign is characterized by wisdom rather than force.

The passage then describes how this Spirit-empowered King will rule: "He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth." Human judges can be fooled by appearances, swayed by testimony, corrupted by bribes, or blinded by prejudice. But this King sees with supernatural discernment, judging with perfect righteousness. And notice His priorities: the needy and the poor. Most kings throughout history have served the wealthy and powerful who keep them in office. This King champions those with no voice, no influence, no resources to reward Him. "He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth; with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked." His weapon isn't a sword but His word—speaking truth that exposes lies, pronouncing judgments that cannot be appealed, declaring reality that cannot be denied. "Righteousness will be his belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist." In ancient warfare, the belt held weapons and kept garments secure for battle. This King's weapons are righteousness—always doing what's right—and faithfulness—always keeping His word. These aren't external decorations but the very things that hold His character together and equip Him for His mission.

Then Isaiah paints a vision of the peace this King will establish: "The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them." This describes the reversal of the curse in Genesis 3, when violence and predation entered creation. In the King's kingdom, natural enemies dwell in peace. The predator no longer threatens the prey. "The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox." Even carnivores become herbivores—violence is transformed at its roots. "The infant will play near the cobra's den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper's nest." The most vulnerable—infants and children—will be safe even among the most dangerous creatures. "They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea." This is the ultimate explanation: when the knowledge of the Lord fills the earth as water fills the sea—completely, thoroughly, everywhere—violence ends. Peace comes not through superior weapons or enforced treaties but through universal recognition of God's lordship. The passage concludes: "In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious." The shoot from the stump becomes a banner—a rallying point for all nations, not just Israel. This King's kingdom knows no ethnic, geographic, or cultural boundaries. His peace extends to all peoples.

During Advent, we light candles in darkness, singing about peace on earth while watching news of wars and violence. Isaiah's vision reminds us that the peace we long for isn't achieved through human effort or political maneuvering—it comes through the reign of the Spirit-empowered King born in Bethlehem. Jesus' first coming initiated this kingdom; His return will complete it. We live in the "already but not yet"—the kingdom has come in Jesus, but it hasn't yet come in its fullness. We've tasted the peace, witnessed the reconciliation, experienced the transformation, but we still await the day when the knowledge of the Lord covers the earth as waters cover the sea. Advent calls us to be people who believe in the shoot from the stump, who trust that God brings life from death, who live as citizens of a coming kingdom of perfect peace, and who rally to the banner of the King who will make all things right.

PRAYER: Lord Jesus, shoot from Jesse's stump and Branch that bears fruit, we worship You as the Spirit-empowered King who brings life from death and establishes peace through righteousness—during this Advent season, help us live as people who believe Your kingdom is coming, working for justice and peace now while we wait for the day when the knowledge of the Lord will cover the earth as waters cover the sea, in Your name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Advent, choose one area of conflict or division in your life—whether personal, relational, or communal—and take one concrete step toward peace, living as a citizen of the coming kingdom where the wolf dwells with the lamb and enemies become friends under the reign of the Prince of Peace.

I love you and I thank God for you. You matter to God and you matter to me. Be the life people are seeking in your thoughts, words, and actions. You are a blessing of life!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

The WavePaver says, Get Ready! (Monday, Dec. 1, 2025)

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Hear the devo: https://bit.ly/4pbJ09B

View the devo: https://bit.ly/4pFojCE

1 In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.' " 4 Now John wore clothing of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, "We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 11 "I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." (Matthew 3:1-12 NRSV)

I don't imagine I had many sins at the age of eight, at least that I was aware of, but I had not had many theology classes by that time, but when my pastor said, in his eloquent Spanish, that I should invite Jesus into my heart as my Lord and Savior, it made sense, and I did. I did not hear any angelic choir singing nor did a bright light blind me, but I knew that I belonged to Jesus at that moment. Someone had prepared the way for that to happen, and I said yes, thanks to the WayPaver. He may have been the same one who talked to someone who talked to you. But imagine the people hearing, for the very first time in their lives, someone talking about their need to repent. Repentance was not a part of Jewish theology in the sense we understand it. The Jews celebrated acts of atonement and the need to be made right with God, but overall their birth as Jews was seen as a purifying event. The cleansing waters of baptism were not for them; it was for those born non-Jew. Repentance involves a complete turning away from sin and turning towards God, and as an outward symbol, they would present themselves for baptism. In a river no less; the Jordan River. And the why behind repentance was that God's Kingdom has come near. And John takes them back to what the great prophet Isaiah had spoken; "Straight paths for God," and from a man dressed as an Old Testament prophet in camel's hair with a leather belt and who ate locusts and wild honey; and the people responded in record numbers. The WayPaver hit a nerve! People felt it for years but did not know what to do about it; that nagging dull sensation that something was present that shouldn't be. Something inside of them was making them feel like they were dying and they wondered how much more oxygen do I have with this thing in me? That thing was sin. The WayPaver urged confession and repentance and baptism. You must do this, he urged, so that you can be a part of the Kingdom.

The Kingdom of Heaven is not a destination or a coming reality; it's right now and it's right here. It is the embodiment of the reality of God's presence in us, molding us into what could be; people filled with love and grace and compassion for others. It's the salvation from the coming wrath of God that John warns about; it's the tools present in us that allow us to bear good fruit, helping us do our part in helping bring about the transformation of the world. And the only way in is through Jesus coming in us and making us new. The invitation from John was so good that even Pharisees and Sadducees presented themselves for baptism, but John warns them: "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" The Pharisees and Sadducees—the theological experts and religious elite—come to observe John's baptism, but he sees through their pretense. He calls them a "brood of vipers," language Jesus will later use, indicating that their religious pedigree means nothing if their hearts are unchanged. They're coming to the baptism as spectators or to protect their religious credentials, not as penitents needing forgiveness. John demands: "Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham." This is shocking—telling Jewish people that their Abrahamic lineage doesn't guarantee salvation. God doesn't need their religious heritage; He could create Abraham's children from rocks if He wanted. What matters isn't who your ancestors were but whether your life shows evidence of genuine transformation. "Fruit worthy of repentance" means changed behavior, transformed priorities, a life that demonstrates that your repentance is real, not just religious words.

John then issues a sobering warning: "Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire." Time is running out. Judgment is imminent. Trees—whether individual lives or religious institutions—that don't produce fruit are marked for destruction. This isn't about earning salvation through good works; it's about authentic repentance producing visible transformation. Dead religion, performance without heart-change, credentials without character—all of it will be exposed and removed. John concludes by pointing beyond himself: "I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire." John's water baptism is preparatory; Jesus' baptism with the Holy Spirit and fire is transformational and judgmental. The Spirit brings new life and power; the fire purifies and judges. Jesus comes with a winnowing fork to separate wheat from chaff—authentic faith from religious pretense, genuine disciples from mere spectators, transformed lives from empty profession. The wheat is gathered and preserved; the chaff is burned. This passage confronts our tendency toward comfortable, culturally acceptable Christianity that requires no real repentance, produces no fruit, and costs us nothing. John calls us to examine whether our faith is authentic or just religious veneer, whether we're bearing fruit worthy of repentance or relying on heritage, attendance, or theological knowledge. The kingdom of heaven is still near, and the call to repentance is still urgent. But it is still open!

PRAYER: Holy God, send Your Spirit to search our hearts and expose where we've relied on religious credentials rather than genuine repentance, where we've substituted heritage for transformation, where we've produced religious activity without spiritual fruit—help us prepare the way for Jesus by clearing the obstacles of pride, self-righteousness, and comfortable religion, turning our whole lives toward You in true repentance, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, ask God to reveal one specific area of your life where you've been substituting religious activity for genuine repentance, and take one concrete step to "bear fruit worthy of repentance" by changing your behavior in that area, not to earn God's approval but to demonstrate that your turning toward Him is real.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! As we start Advent, let us travel together in faith towards what could be!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

What Are We Waiting For? (Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025)

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Hear devo: https://bit.ly/49Wh84x

View devo: https://bit.ly/4p6JD40

4 For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope. 5 May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, 6 so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 7 Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God. 8 For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews on behalf of God’s truth, so that the promises made to the patriarchs might be confirmed 9 and, moreover, that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy. As it is written: “Therefore I will praise you among the Gentiles; I will sing the praises of your name.” 10 Again, it says, “Rejoice, you Gentiles, with his people.” 11 And again, “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles; let all the peoples extol him.” 12 And again, Isaiah says, “The Root of Jesse will spring up, one who will arise to rule over the nations; in him the Gentiles will hope.” 13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:4-13 NIV)

Happy Tuesday, dear Friend! May the blessings of the Lord be rich and plentiful upon you, today and all days. Make this a memorable feast of Advent.

The late Rev. Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, pastor of Marble Collegiate Church, author, publisher of Guideposts Magazine and the best-seller The Power of Positive Thinking, stood on a busy Manhattan street corner during the height of the Christmas rush. Pedestrians at every street corner awaiting for the lights to change, all loaded with lavishly wrapped Christmas gifts; cars and cabs rushing here and there; and Dr. Peale said, "I'm delighted and amazed, all of this is because of the birth of one Middle Eastern baby!" Indeed. I concur with that sentiment and as I've shared before for me it starts as we prepare for All Hallows Eve, which is to me, an Advent season of the coming real Advent season; a rush of special days packed together, all leading to the actual day of Jesus' birth which we celebrate as Christmas. It is an emotional hight that helps me enjoy each day even with all that is expected of me and the to and fro my body takes me; delayed airline flights, poorly prepared commercial meals posing as the actual Thanksgiving Dinner, but even those cannot dampen the joy of being with loved ones. Yes, I do halfway miss the preparations that I once upon a time had to do; the preparation of bulletins in the early days without a secretary and the printing of said bulletins on a mimeograph machines, to the four worship services on one Christmas Eve at a certain big church I pastored, including the ever difficult time of an 11:30 pm candlelight service. I spoke with a retired friend and colleague who today finished the bulletins all the way through Christmas Eve 2025! I could sense the relief and tiredness in his voice at all he had to do. It's all part of the preparation; the getting ready.

We celebrate Advent as a season of hopeful waiting and Paul's words to the Romans capture the essence of what we're waiting for—not just the celebration of Christ's first coming but the fullness of what His coming means for all people. Paul begins by grounding our hope in Scripture: "For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope." The Old Testament isn't just ancient history or interesting stories—it's God's instruction manual for living with hope during long seasons of waiting. The patriarchs waited for promised descendants. Israel waited for deliverance from Egypt. The exiles waited for return from Babylon. The prophets waited for the Messiah. Their stories teach us endurance—the capacity to keep believing when fulfillment is delayed. Their testimonies provide encouragement—proof that God keeps His promises even when centuries pass. And both endurance and encouragement produce hope—confident expectation that what God has promised, He will do. This is the posture of Advent: we look back at promises kept to find strength for promises still unfolding.

Paul then prays for unity: "May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." The call to unity isn't based on uniformity of opinion or sameness of background—it's based on sharing the attitude of Christ Jesus, who humbled Himself, served sacrificially, and welcomed those who were different. In Paul's context, this means Jewish and Gentile believers learning to worship together despite profound cultural and theological differences. In our context, it means the church embracing diverse people with one mind and one voice to glorify God. Advent reminds us that Jesus came for all people, that His kingdom transcends every human division, and that our unity in Christ is itself a testimony to the world that God's promises are true. "Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God." The basis of our acceptance of each other isn't agreement on secondary matters—it's the reality that Christ accepted us while we were still sinners, enemies, rebels. If He can accept us in that condition, we can surely accept one another in our differences.

Paul then demonstrates from Scripture that Jesus came for both Jews and Gentiles, fulfilling God's ancient plan: "For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the Jews on behalf of God's truth, so that the promises made to the patriarchs might be confirmed and, moreover, that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy." Jesus' ministry confirmed God's faithfulness to Israel while simultaneously opening the door for all nations to experience God's mercy. Paul quotes four Old Testament passages showing that God always intended to include the Gentiles: "Therefore I will praise you among the Gentiles; I will sing the praises of your name," and "Rejoice, you Gentiles, with his people," and "Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles; let all the peoples extol him," and "The Root of Jesse will spring up, one who will arise to rule over the nations; in him the Gentiles will hope." This barrage of Scripture makes the point unmistakable—from the beginning, God's plan included all nations. Jesus is the fulfillment of Israel's hope and the hope of the Gentiles. Advent celebrates that God keeps His promises and that His promises are more expansive than we imagine. The baby born in Bethlehem came not just for one nation but for all nations, not just to save a select few but to offer hope to every people group on earth.

Paul concludes with a benediction that captures the heart of Advent hope: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Notice the source—"the God of hope." Hope isn't something we generate through positive thinking or optimistic outlooks. Hope comes from God Himself, who is inherently hopeful, who sees the end from the beginning, who is working all things toward their appointed conclusion. This God fills us—not with vague optimism but with joy and peace that come through trusting Him. Trust is the channel through which God's hope flows into our lives. And the result is overflow—hope so abundant it spills out of our lives into others'. This overflow happens "by the power of the Holy Spirit"—it's not self-manufactured enthusiasm but Spirit-generated confidence in God's promises. During Advent, as we light candles and sing carols and wait for Christmas, we're practicing a deeper waiting—for Christ's return, for God's kingdom to come fully, for every promise to be fulfilled, for every tear to be wiped away, for every wrong to be made right. And in this waiting, the God of hope fills us with joy and peace, making us people who overflow with hope even in a world that often feels hopeless. This is the gift of Advent: not just remembering that Jesus came, but living as people confident that He will come again to complete what He started.

PRAYER: Loving God of hope, thank You for keeping Your promises, for sending Jesus as Savior for all nations, and for filling us with joy and peace as we trust in You—during this Advent season, help us overflow with hope by the power of Your Holy Spirit, living as people who believe Your kingdom is coming and Your promises are sure, in Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: During this Advent season, practice overflowing with hope by intentionally sharing one specific reason for your hope in Christ with someone who seems discouraged or hopeless, letting the joy and peace God has given you spill into their life.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Advent is a journey best shared with each other, working to make the world a better place and to usher in the kingdom of God.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

GIVE THANKS WITH A JOYFUL HEART

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25 When they found him on the other side of the lake, they asked him, “Rabbi, when did you get here?” 26 Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. 27 Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him God the Father has placed his seal of approval.” 28 Then they asked him, “What must we do to do the works God requires?” 29 Jesus answered, “The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.” 30 So they asked him, “What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do? 31 Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’ ” 32 Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. 33 For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 34 “Sir,” they said, “always give us this bread.” 35 Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. (John 6:25-35 NIV)

I write this in the evening of Saturday, November 22, 2025. It is yet another anniversary of the day President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas by Lee Harvey Oswald. We won't argue the many theories out there as to who really killed him. The truth was that his death affected the nation and I truly believe caused the heart attack of my Dad's aunt, Paulina Martinez, Tía Nina to me and my siblings and she was a sweetheart of a lady. She was my Momo's sister, so that made her our great-aunt. She lived in McAllen, Texas and died there. Her funeral was held in her birthplace, Havana, Texas, where she was buried on Wednesday, November 27th. We returned home to Kingsville, Texas on Thanksgiving morning of that year. After we cleared the Border Patrol Checkpoint in Falfurrias, we stopped at the rest area located afterwards. It's not the one that exists today, the former was in a different location. Mom announced that our Thanksgiving meal would be there with bologna sandwiches on white bread and chips. I cried. "This is not a Thanksgiving meal! We need turkey and dressing and all the good things you make for that day!" She laughed and said, "That's tomorrow." Oh.

This will the only ConCafe for this week and I'm concentrating on the Thanksgiving passage for this year as selected by the Common Lectionary. And it's about food and Jesus. And people. And food. Most people like free food, especially the hungry. And people in Jesus' day were hungry. And having been fed once, for free, folks followed Him in hopes of getting more free food. And being Thanksgiving in the US of A, we majored in food, lots of food that a simple baloney sandwich won't do; well in the mind and tummy of a eleven year old, and a silly one at that.

The crowd has just witnessed Jesus feed five thousand people with five loaves and two fish. Now they're chasing Him down, hungry for more. When they find Him, Jesus confronts them with uncomfortable truth: "Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill." They want the gift, not the Giver. They want their stomachs filled, not their souls saved. They're pursuing Jesus for what He can provide rather than for who He is. On this Thanksgiving, we face the same temptation—to focus our gratitude on the blessings rather than on the One who blesses, to give thanks for the gifts while taking the Giver for granted. The crowd asks, "What must we do to do the works God requires?" They're still thinking transactionally—what can we do to get more bread? Jesus redirects them: "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent." They want a to-do list; Jesus offers a relationship. They want religion; Jesus offers Himself.

The crowd then demands another sign: "What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness." The irony is staggering—they've just seen Jesus feed thousands with almost nothing, yet they want another sign. They reference the manna in the wilderness as if Jesus hasn't just done something even more remarkable. This is the human condition: we receive blessing after blessing, yet we quickly forget and demand more proof, more provision, more evidence that God cares. On Thanksgiving Day, we gather around tables laden with food, surrounded by the evidence of God's provision—yet how quickly we forget these blessings when challenges come. Jesus corrects their theology: "Very truly I tell you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." The manna in the wilderness was just a preview, a shadow of something greater. God always intended to give something better than physical bread—He intended to give the Bread that satisfies the deepest hunger of the human soul.

The crowd responds with a request that reveals they still don't understand: "Sir, always give us this bread." They're still thinking about physical bread that fills stomachs temporarily. They want the convenience of never being hungry again, a perpetual food supply. But Jesus is offering something infinitely greater: "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." This is one of Jesus' great "I am" statements—a direct claim to deity, echoing God's self-revelation to Moses at the burning bush. Jesus isn't just a provider of bread; He is the Bread. He doesn't just give life; He is life. The satisfaction He offers isn't the temporary fullness of a good meal but the eternal satisfaction of a soul that has found its true home. To come to Jesus means to find the end of our restless searching, the answer to our deepest hunger. To believe in Him means to discover that what we've been looking for in a thousand other places—fulfillment, purpose, security, joy—has been available all along in Him.

On this Thanksgiving, we gather to give thanks for food, family, health, home—all good gifts from our generous Father. But Jesus invites us to something deeper than gratitude for blessings. He invites us to gratitude for the Blessing Himself, to recognize that all the good gifts point to the greatest Gift—Jesus, the Bread of Life who came down from heaven to satisfy our deepest hunger. Every meal we enjoy, every provision we receive, every blessing we count is a reminder that God gives generously to His children. But the ultimate provision, the gift that makes all other gifts meaningful, is Jesus Himself. This Thanksgiving, as we taste earthly bread, may we remember and give thanks for the Bread of Life who gives us eternal satisfaction. As we gather around tables filled with abundance, may we come to Jesus and find in Him the abundance that never runs out, the satisfaction that never fades, the life that never ends. For whoever comes to Him will never hunger, and whoever believes in Him will never thirst.

PRAYER: Loving Father in heaven, we give You thanks this day for every blessing You've poured into our lives—for food on our tables, roofs over our heads, people we love, provision for our needs, and countless gifts we often overlook. But most of all, we thank You for Jesus, the Bread of Life who came down from heaven to satisfy our deepest hunger and quench our deepest thirst. Forgive us for the times we chase after Your gifts while neglecting You, the Giver. Forgive us for seeking satisfaction in things that can never truly satisfy. Thank You that in Jesus, we have everything we need—forgiveness, life, hope, purpose, and a love that will never let us go. As we celebrate this Thanksgiving, help us remember that every good gift comes from Your hand, and the greatest gift of all is Jesus Himself. We give You thanks, not just today, but every day, for You are good and Your love endures forever. In Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord. OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Thanksgiving week, before each meal you eat, pause to thank God not just for the food but for Jesus, the Bread of Life, and share with someone at your table one way Jesus has satisfied a hunger in your life that physical blessings never could.

I love you and I thank God for you. You matter to God, you matter to me. Make others matter to you especially as you give thanks to God for all God has shared with you.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Our King is Our Fortress

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1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. 2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; 3 though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult. (Selah) 4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. 5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns. 6 The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. 7 The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. (Selah) 8 Come, behold the works of the Lord; see what desolations he has brought on the earth. 9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire. 10 "Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth." 11 The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. (Selah) (Psalm 46 NRSV)

Happy Thursday, dear Friend. As we pray today, please add this to your prayer list, from First Methodist Gonzales" "Friends please urgently pray for Pastor Clyde and Olivia Bostick (Clyde is pastor at Belmont and Monthalia). Olivia had surgery yesterday and is having complications."

In my life my parents were both places of refuge and strength. When major crises presented themselves I could find in them the solution, the hiding place, or the words needed to confront the challenge. As I've shared before, in fifth grade my teacher accused me of stealing a pen and pencil set. Dad went and fought the battle. In our move to Houston a kid called me a racist slur, which I had never heard before and found in my Mom the hiding place and counters I could use should I want. When a junior high teacher ignored my request for help, my Mom went and in the hallway outside that classroom fought the battle which helped me learn and pass that class. Both parents provided for me a model of Christian tolerance and responses.

This coming Sunday invites us to celebrate Jesus' sovereignty over all creation, and Psalm 46 presents the character of our King—not a distant ruler unconcerned with His subjects' struggles, but a refuge, a fortress, a very present help when everything falls apart. The psalmist begins with radical confidence: "God is our refuge and strength." Other kings build fortresses to protect themselves; our King is Himself the fortress that protects us. Other rulers demonstrate strength by conquering enemies; our King demonstrates strength by being our shelter in the storm. The phrase "very present help" is crucial—this isn't a God who helps from afar or intervenes occasionally when convenient. Our King is present, close, immediately available in the moment of trouble. On Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate not just that Jesus reigns, but that His reign is characterized by intimate availability to His people.

The psalm imagines the worst possible scenarios: "Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult." Mountains falling into the sea, foundations shaking, chaos replacing order—these images represent total cosmic upheaval. Yet the response is stunning: "we will not fear." Not because chaos won't come or because we're naively optimistic, but because our King is our refuge even when everything else collapses. Then the psalmist shifts to a beautiful contrast: "There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns." While the chaotic waters outside threaten destruction, inside the King's city flows a peaceful river that brings gladness. This isn't just geography—it's theology. Where the King dwells, there is peace, stability, gladness even in the midst of surrounding chaos. Our King creates an oasis of joy and security within His presence, a place that "shall not be moved" even when everything around it shakes.

The psalm then describes the King's power over the nations: "The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." Human kingdoms rise and fall, nations rage and collapse, earthly powers scheme and crumble. But our King speaks, and the earth melts. His word carries absolute authority over all human power structures, all political upheaval, all military might. The refrain emphasizes both His transcendent power ("the Lord of hosts"—commander of heaven's armies) and His intimate presence ("is with us"). This is the paradox of Christ the King—the sovereign ruler of the universe who chooses to be with His people, the commander of heavenly hosts who makes Himself our refuge. Then comes the invitation: "Come, behold the works of the Lord; see what desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire." Our King's ultimate work isn't destruction but peace-making. He doesn't perpetuate violence—He ends it. He doesn't multiply weapons—He destroys them. The vision is of a King who establishes His reign by eliminating warfare itself, bringing peace to earth's farthest corners.

The psalm culminates with the King's own voice: "Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth." In Hebrew, "be still" can mean "stop striving, cease your frantic activity, let go, surrender." It's a command from the King to His anxious subjects: stop trying to control everything, stop fighting battles in your own strength, stop the exhausting effort to secure yourself through your own power. Instead, know—deeply, experientially know—that He is God. He is exalted among the nations whether they acknowledge it or not. He is exalted in the earth whether circumstances suggest it or not. Our King's sovereignty doesn't depend on our efforts to establish it or defend it. On Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate a King who doesn't need us to protect His throne but invites us to rest in the security of His unshakeable reign. The psalm ends with the refrain: "The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." This is the comfort and challenge of Christ the King—almighty power wedded to intimate presence, cosmic authority combined with personal refuge. We bow before a King who is both transcendent enough to command nations and immanent enough to be our fortress in trouble, both powerful enough to still chaos and gentle enough to invite us to be still and know Him.

PRAYER: Lord of hosts, our King and our refuge, help us cease our striving and rest in Your sovereignty, knowing that You are exalted among the nations and that Your kingdom is our unshakeable fortress even when everything around us trembles—in Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Identify one area where you've been frantically striving to control outcomes or protect yourself, and practice the King's command to "be still"—surrendering that area to His sovereign care and resting in His presence as your refuge.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Make other see that you have found in God the perfect hiding place and strength.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Christ the King is God's Son

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11 being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, 12 and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. 13 For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. 15 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16 For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. 19 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Colossians 1:11-20 NIV)

I heard an interesting and true perspective from a video with Steve Harvey, radio and tv star, as he shared the sad news about the day his father died. He said he realized that on that day, he lost the only man who wanted him to be more than he could be. In talking with two friends on video, he said, "You father is the only man who can honestly say he wanted his son to more than he was." His friends agreed, and so did I. Steve went on to say his father had been the first and only man to say that he was truly proud of him. He also said if you think about it, most men want to outdo other men in almost all aspects of life, but not your Dad. My Dad always stressed the need for me to get an education so that I wouldn't have to work as hard as him. He didn't get beyond junior high and his struggles led us to move from Kingsville to Houston, but he was always loving and as great an example I could have wanted for my life to be work hard, love my family, and serve my Lord. And we find in this passage a hint of the love and belief that God the Father had in His Son, Jesus Christ. We have evidence of Him speaking twice in Jesus' life by affirming the sonship of Jesus and the love He has for Him. And in this passage we also can read into its words the love and joy in Jesus' role as King and as our Savior.

In this magnificent passage, Paul presents one of Scripture's most comprehensive portraits of Christ's kingship—not the kingship of earthly rulers who dominate through force, but the kingship of the One who created all things, sustains all things, and reconciles all things through self-giving love. And all in obedience to God's will for His Son.

Paul begins with a prayer that reveals what spiritual maturity actually looks like: "being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience." Notice what God's power produces—not flashy miracles or dramatic experiences but endurance and patience. The strength God provides isn't primarily for performing but for persevering, not for impressing but for enduring. And not just for His Son, but also for you and me. This power enables us to keep going when we want to quit, to remain faithful when faithfulness is costly, to wait patiently when we want immediate results. And remarkably, Paul says we're to do this "while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light." Joy and thanksgiving aren't the rewards that come after endurance—they're the companions that sustain us during it. We can endure with joy because we know we've been qualified not by our performance but by the Father's grace to share in an eternal inheritance.

Paul then paints a picture of what our King has done for us: "For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." This is the language of royal rescue—a conquering King liberating captives from enemy territory. We were under the dominion of darkness, subjects of a usurping tyrant, held captive by powers we couldn't overcome. But our King intervened decisively. He didn't negotiate or compromise; He transferred us from one kingdom to another through royal decree backed by divine power. We've been relocated from the realm where darkness rules to the kingdom where God's beloved Son reigns. On Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate not just that Jesus is King in some abstract theological sense, but that He has already exercised His kingly authority to rescue us, making us citizens of His kingdom of light. And in this King, we have redemption and forgiveness—not partial payment or probationary pardon but complete redemption and full forgiveness. This is our current reality under Christ's reign, not our future hope.

Paul then launches into one of Scripture's most magnificent descriptions of Christ's royal supremacy. First, Jesus' relationship to God: "The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation." The title "firstborn" is royal language—in ancient culture, the firstborn son held the position of supremacy, authority, and inheritance rights. Jesus isn't merely a prophet who speaks about God or a teacher who explains God—He is the visible image of the invisible God, the perfect representation of divine kingship. Want to know what the King of the universe is like? Look at Jesus. Then Paul describes the scope of Christ's kingdom: "For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him." Notice what falls under Christ's kingship—not just religious matters or spiritual things, but all things. Every earthly throne, every human power structure, every invisible spiritual authority—all were created by King Jesus, through King Jesus, and for King Jesus. Even the powers that appear to rival His authority are actually His creations, existing only by His permission and ultimately serving His purposes. This is kingship on a cosmic scale that makes earthly monarchs look like children playing dress-up.

Paul continues: "He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." Our King doesn't just rule from a distant throne—He actively sustains His kingdom moment by moment. At this very second, Christ the King holds your life together, maintains the physical laws that make existence possible, keeps creation from flying apart into chaos. His is not an absentee monarchy but an actively engaged reign. Then Paul shifts to Christ's relationship to His people: "And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy." Here's the explicit statement of Christ the King Sunday's theme: "that in everything he might have the supremacy." Not supremacy in religious matters only, or spiritual things alone, but in everything—science, art, politics, family, work, leisure, suffering, death, and resurrection. All of it belongs under King Jesus' authority. He rules not just creation but the new creation, not just the physical realm but the resurrection realm, having conquered even death itself. Finally, Paul explains how this King established His reign: "For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross." Here's the stunning paradox of Christ's kingship celebrated on Christ the King Sunday—this King establishes His throne not through conquering armies but through His own blood, not through dominating enemies but through dying for them, not through violence but through peace-making sacrifice. The fullness of God—all divine authority, power, and glory—resides in this crucified and risen King who is reconciling all things to Himself. The cosmic scope is breathtaking: not just reconciling individual souls but all things, heaven and earth, reuniting the fractured universe under the lordship of the One who holds all things together. On Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate a King unlike any earthly monarch—one whose power is perfected in weakness, whose throne is a cross, whose crown is thorns, whose kingdom comes through self-giving love, and whose reign will one day restore all things. Our appropriate response is worship, joyful submission, and grateful thanksgiving that we serve a King who died to save His subjects rather than demanding His subjects die to save Him.

PRAYER: Lord Jesus, our crucified and risen King, You are supreme over all creation, all powers, and all authorities—thank You for rescuing us from darkness and bringing us into Your kingdom of light, for ruling through self-giving love rather than dominating force, and for holding all things together by Your power; on this Christ the King Sunday, we bow before Your throne and pledge our allegiance to Your reign in every area of our lives, in Your strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Sometime this week seek to consciously surrender one specific area of your life where you've been trying to maintain control, bowing before King Jesus and inviting His reign into that space, trusting that the King who holds all things together can handle what you've been clutching in your own hands.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Be the son/daughter who knows and shares King Jesus with many this day!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.