Pray Without Ceasing

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1 Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. 2 He said: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. 3 And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’ 4 “For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, 5 yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!’ ” 6 And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7 And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? 8 I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?” (Luke 18:1-8 NIV)

The bishop of Smyrna (now modern day Turkey) and for 86 years was a faithful servant of the Lord Jesus. As Rome found out that there were Christian leaders not willing to bow down and worship Caesar, they ordered his arrest. When his captors came to his residence, he asked for an hour to pray before they led him off. He prayed for all the captors by name and touched many with his sincere prayers for each of them. By the time he ended the prayers not all of them were convinced of the need to cart him off; but they did to the arena in Smyrna, where in front of a cheering crowd he was asked to renounce Jesus and worship the emperor. Polycarp refused, saying, ""Eighty and six years I have served Him, and He has done me no wrong. How then can I blaspheme my King and Savior?".This angered the Roman official who ordered him to be burned alive. According to the narrative, when the fire was lit, it miraculously formed an arch around him and did not consume his body; onlookers saw him glowing with a heavenly light. Since the fire did not kill him, an executioner was ordered to stab him. His blood reportedly poured out in such quantity that it extinguished the surrounding flames. His body was later burned. The legacy was forever his; that he was a man of faith and prayer, praying even til his own end.

We come to an older hero in the faith, an unknown, unnamed woman, a widow, who though she lived in a certain town with a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought about him. But his widow who had a need and kept pestering the judge for justice, but he initially refused and she kept coming to him asking the same thing over and over again. Remember this was Jesus trying to teach his disciples they should pray without ceasing.

Yet she keeps coming. Day after day, she appears before this corrupt judge with the same request: "Grant me justice against my adversary." She doesn't have new arguments or better evidence. She just keeps showing up, keeps asking, keeps refusing to accept silence as an answer. And here's what's remarkable—her persistence works. Not because the judge suddenly develops a conscience or discovers compassion, but because her relentless appearing becomes impossible to ignore. He grants her justice simply to get her to stop bothering him.

If an unjust judge will eventually respond to persistent asking, Jesus says, how much more will a loving Father respond to His children who cry out to Him day and night? The parable isn't teaching us that God is like the unjust judge—it's teaching us through contrast. If persistence can move an unrighteous judge who doesn't care, how much more powerful is persistence before a righteous God who does care, who loves us, who longs to give good gifts to His children?

We live in a culture of instant gratification where waiting feels like punishment and delay feels like denial. We're conditioned to expect immediate results, quick fixes, and fast answers. When we pray and nothing seems to happen, our natural response is to assume either God isn't listening or the answer is no. We give up. We stop asking. We convince ourselves that persistence is pointless or that continued prayer reveals a lack of faith.

But Jesus teaches exactly the opposite. He says we should "always pray and not give up." The widow's persistence wasn't a sign of weak faith—it was the expression of unshakeable conviction that justice existed and could be obtained. Her refusal to give up wasn't annoying the judge into submission; it was maintaining faith when circumstances suggested she should abandon hope. Persistent prayer isn't about changing God's mind or manipulating Him into action. It's about refusing to let go of what we know to be true about God's character even when our circumstances seem to contradict it.

The parable ends with a sobering question: "However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?" This isn't a rhetorical flourish or a throwaway line. Jesus has just taught about persistent prayer as the mark of genuine faith, and now He wonders aloud whether He'll find this kind of faith when He returns. The implication is clear: one of the primary ways faith is tested and proven is through perseverance in prayer when answers don't come quickly.

Faith that gives up when prayers aren't answered immediately isn't really faith in God—it's faith in outcomes, faith in timing we can control, faith in getting what we want when we want it. True faith continues to pray not because we see results but because we know the character of the One we're praying to. We persist not to convince God of our seriousness but to demonstrate our trust in His goodness even when we can't see His hand at work.

The answer lies in understanding God's perspective on time and His purposes in waiting. What feels like endless delay to us is often necessary preparation, character development, or strategic timing in God's economy. His "quickly" refers to the certainty and suddenness of His action when the appointed time arrives, not necessarily the shortness of the wait. When God moves, He moves decisively. When He answers, He answers completely. When He brings justice, He brings it thoroughly.

This means our persistent prayer is never wasted. Every prayer, every cry, every time we show up before God matters. He's not ignoring us—He's listening intently. He's not indifferent—He cares deeply. He's not powerless—He will act. Our job is to keep praying, keep believing, keep showing up, keep refusing to let circumstances convince us that God has forgotten or stopped caring.

The widow's story invites us into a different kind of faith—one that persists through silence, that keeps asking through apparent inaction, that maintains hope through delay.

PRAYER: Loving Father, give us the faith to keep praying when answers seem delayed, to keep crying out when heaven seems silent, and to keep trusting Your goodness even when we can't see Your hand—knowing that You hear every prayer and will bring justice at exactly the right time. Hear our prayer, dear Lord, that we lift up in faith in the strong name of Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Choose one prayer request you've been tempted to abandon and commit to bringing it before God daily this week, letting your persistence be an act of faith in His character rather than an attempt to change His mind.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Share the life God has given you with those who need a blessing.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Make Noise for God!

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1 All together now - applause for God! 2 Sing songs to the tune of his glory, set glory to the rhythms of his praise. 3 Say of God, "We've never seen anything like him!" When your enemies see you in action, they slink off like scolded dogs. 4 The whole earth falls to its knees - it worships you, sings to you, can't stop enjoying your name and fame. 5 Take a good look at God's wonders - they'll take your breath away. 6 He converted sea to dry land; travelers crossed the river on foot. Now isn't that cause for a song? 7 Ever sovereign in his high tower, he keeps his eye on the godless nations. Rebels don't dare raise a finger against him. 8 Bless our God, O peoples! Give him a thunderous welcome! 9 Didn't he set us on the road to life? Didn't he keep us out of the ditch? 10 He trained us first, passed us like silver through refining fires, 11 Brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very limit, 12 Road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back; Finally he brought us to this well-watered place. (Psalm 66:1-12 The Message Bible)

I don't know about other states, but Texas on Friday nights is the noisest night of all nights. And Saturday is a close second. There are crowds and noise, noise and crowds. There's bright lights and music, streamers, sometimes flowers as mums, sashes, bands, halftime entertainment, and cheers! Lots of cheers, so much so that they have leaders of cheers! At least in the autumn of the year. Sunday morning, while still being, for the most part, the most segregated hour of the week, and of course, it depends where you happen to find yourself on any Sunday morning, tends to be quiet and reserved; some places are exceptions, but for the most part, quiet and reserve is the norm of most places on Sunday. It's all based on who's playing and who's winning. Am I right? If it's your team up against your rival, them the sound is amped up. And nothing anyone or anything can do will quiet you down.

The psalmist knows about crowds and noises; and he knows real battles, having battled everything from wolves, lions, bears and giants, and countless Jebusites, and Philistines; he also knows God, to Whom he says, "All together now - applause for God!"

His call is for all the earth is summoned to make noise for God, to celebrate His glory with songs and applause. This isn't quiet, reserved, proper religion. This is full-throated, hands-clapping, joy-erupting praise. But what drives this kind of exuberant worship? The psalmist answers by pointing to God's track record of doing the impossible—parting seas, preserving His people through dangers, and ultimately bringing them through to freedom. The psalm invites us to look back at what God has done and let that history fuel our present worship.

But then the psalm takes a surprising turn into difficulty: "He trained us first, passed us like silver through refining fires, brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very limit, road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back." This is honest acknowledgment that God's deliverance often comes through, not around, suffering. God doesn't always remove obstacles—sometimes He walks us through them. The refining fire isn't punishment; it's purification. The hardscrabble country isn't abandonment; it's training. The road-testing isn't cruelty; it's preparation for something better. God permits difficulty not to destroy us but to develop us, burning away what's false and strengthening what's real.

The psalm's climax comes with stunning relief: "Finally he brought us to this well-watered place." After the fires and the hell-and-back journey, God doesn't leave us in the wilderness. He brings us through to abundance, to a place of refreshment and provision. This is the pattern of God's redemptive work throughout Scripture—through the Red Sea to the Promised Land, through the cross to resurrection, through death to life. The difficulties aren't the destination; they're the path to something far better. Our trials have a terminus. Our testing has a purpose. Our pain has a payoff.

What does this mean for us today? It means we can worship even in the middle of hardship because we know the character of the God who's leading us. He's the God who "didn't turn a deaf ear, he stayed with me, loyal in his love." It means our current struggles aren't evidence of God's absence but often evidence of His refining presence. And it means we can trust that the God who brought others through fire to freedom is the same God who will bring us through. Our job isn't to understand every step or enjoy every moment—it's to keep walking, keep trusting, and keep our eyes fixed on the One who specializes in bringing people to well-watered places after desert journeys.

PRAYER: Loving God, when we're in the refining fire and hardscrabble country, help us trust that You're not leaving us there—You're leading us through to a well-watered place, and every difficulty is part of Your faithful plan to bring us to abundance. Grant us deep joy for praise, for You are worthy; in Christ Jesus' strong name we pray, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, look back at a past difficulty in your life and thank God specifically for how He brought you through it, letting that memory fuel your trust in whatever challenge you're currently facing. And also, make noise!

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Make your life count as you make noise for God!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Plant a Garden; Stay Awhile

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1 These are the words of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the remaining elders among the exiles, and to the priests, the prophets, and all the people, whom Nebuchadnezzar had taken into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon. 4 Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: 5 Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. 6 Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. 7 But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. (Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7 NRSV)

A friend who also writes a daily devotional, today wrote where most of us do not have an idea what it's like to be exiled. To be moved to a new place without say. I felt a sudden sadness and I emailed him simply, "Our kids do." I have shared how the first call I had to make as a newly sworn-in district superintendent to a pastor letting him know he was moving, when I hung up I cried. In my mind I played out the entire scene of him telling his wife and then trying to think of a way to tell his children they were being uprooted from this place they had called home for x-number of years and going to a completely new place. I thought of the many places they would think might have usable boxes with which to pack their belongings, and wonder for how long would this new place be theirs? And I thought about the times our babies had to pack up and move because Daddy had been moved. They didn't understand the word or concept of promotion and better opportunities; they knew this was saying goodbye to old friends, and the fear of finding new ones. It meant Mommy would have to find yet another job teaching in yet another new school. Well deserved tears flowed.

Jeremiah writes to exiles in Babylon who are desperate to go home, clinging to false prophets promising a quick return to Jerusalem. But God's message through Jeremiah is stunning: don't just survive in exile—thrive there. Build houses, plant gardens, raise families, seek the city's welfare. This isn't resignation to defeat; it's a radical call to faithfulness in unwanted circumstances. The exiles wanted to hold their breath until they could return home, but God tells them to exhale, settle in, and invest in the very place that feels like punishment.

This challenges our instinct to put life on hold when circumstances aren't what we hoped. We often think faithfulness means waiting for better conditions—the right job, the ideal location, the perfect situation—before we fully engage. But God's instruction to the exiles reveals a different way: faithful presence wherever we are. The call isn't to love Babylon or pretend exile is home, but to live fully and invest deeply even in places we didn't choose and situations we'd rather escape.

The most countercultural command comes at the end: "Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." God doesn't just ask them to tolerate Babylon—He calls them to work for its flourishing. The exiles' wellbeing is tied to Babylon's wellbeing, even though Babylon destroyed their temple and carried them away captive. This is the radical ethic of enemy-love before Jesus preached it—blessing those who harm you, praying for those who oppose you, seeking good for the place that feels like captivity.

What does this mean for us? It means faithfulness isn't conditional on favorable circumstances. Whether we're in jobs we didn't want, cities we didn't choose, seasons we wouldn't have picked, or situations that feel like exile—God calls us to build, plant, invest, and seek the welfare of the place where we find ourselves. Our flourishing and the flourishing of our community are intertwined. We're not called to withdraw, complain, or wait for rescue, but to live as people who bring blessing wherever God has placed us, even when that place feels far from home.

PRAYER: Lord, help us embrace faithful presence in the places we didn't choose, investing deeply and seeking the welfare of our communities, trusting that as we bless others we'll discover our own flourishing in unexpected ways. Bless and protect especially our children who sometimes make the bigger sacrifices; let them flourish and prosper; in Christ Jesus we pray, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord. OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, take one concrete action to contribute to the welfare of your community—whether through volunteering, supporting a local cause, or simply being a better neighbor—treating where you are as a place worth investing in rather than enduring.

I love you and I thank God for you. You matter to me and you matter to God. Find someone who needs to hear an uplifting word and make it matter to them.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Chained to Jesus

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8 Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descended from David. This is my gospel, 9 for which I am suffering even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But God’s word is not chained. 10 Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. 11 Here is a trustworthy saying: If we died with him, we will also live with him; 12 if we endure, we will also reign with him. If we disown him, he will also disown us; 13 if we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself. 14 Keep reminding God’s people of these things. Warn them before God against quarreling about words; it is of no value, and only ruins those who listen. 15 Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. (2 Timothy 2:8-15 NIV)

THE AUDIO STARTS WITH MISSING PARTS; THE MINISTER IN THE STORY WAS NOT ME BUT A FRIEND OF MINE. AND THE MONTH FOR THIS DEVOTIONAL IS NOT AUGUST BUT OCTOBER!

Paul's motivation in suffering is striking: "I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus." He endures because his faithfulness creates space for others to encounter Jesus. This shifts how we view our own hardships and challenges. When following Jesus brings difficulty, when faithfulness requires sacrifice—we're not just enduring for ourselves. Our perseverance becomes part of how God's word spreads to others. Paul quotes an early Christian saying: "If we died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him." This is the rhythm of Christian life—death leads to life, suffering leads to glory, endurance leads to reigning. Faithfulness through difficulty reveals and refines genuine faith.

Paul's instruction to Timothy is clear: "Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth." This isn't about earning God's approval through performance but about living with integrity, studying Scripture carefully, and representing God's message accurately. Paul contrasts this with those who quarrel about words and engage in godless chatter that spreads like gangrene. Not all religious talk is helpful. Arguments that don't build up, debates that don't lead to truth, disputes that don't produce love—these are destructive. The call is to be workers who focus on what matters: knowing God's word deeply, living it authentically, and sharing it clearly.

Paul's message from chains echoes across centuries to us today. Whatever limitations we face—whether health challenges, family struggles, financial constraints, cultural opposition, or personal weakness—God's word is not chained by our circumstances. The gospel we carry has power beyond our personal capacity to deliver it. Our faithfulness in small things, our endurance through hard things, our integrity in daily things—all of this becomes part of how God's unchained word spreads in the world. We may feel restricted, limited, insufficient. But the message we carry breaks through every barrier. Our job isn't to be perfect or powerful. Our job is to be faithful—to remember Jesus, to endure with purpose, to handle truth carefully, and to trust that God's word accomplishes what we cannot.

PRAYER: Lord, when we feel chained by our circumstances and limited by our weakness, remind us that Your word is never bound and Your purposes cannot be stopped—use our faithfulness, however small, to spread Your unchained gospel. This we pray in Christ Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Identify one area where you feel limited or restricted in your faith or witness, and ask God to show you how His word might work powerfully through that very limitation rather than in spite of it.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, and you matter to me. Make someone matter to you by showing them love and kindness.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

One Came Back

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11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy[a] met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” 14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed. 15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. 17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” (Luke 17:11-19 NIV)

Friend, may the Lord watch over me and thee; this day and all. Grant us your stength to keep us fully in service to Thee and Thine; in Christ Jesus we pray, amen.

This is not the favorite text for squeamish people on Thanksgiving; something about skin diseases and turkey and dressing do not mix well. I've shared how one Thanksgiving Day (Yes, kids, there were once upon a time, churches that held Thanksgiving Day worship on the actual, real day of Thanksgiving! It's in the history books, well, those that haven't been redacted yet). But I was a campus minister and I had been asked to fill in for my mentor pastor who had been injured. It was as I sat down in the pulpit chair to await the service to begin that a woman came up to where I sat and handed me a note that said for me NOT to preach on this text as it would make her mother lose her appetite for the important meal of the day. Gulp. I already had prayed and prepared a sermon and felt led by God to preach it, which I would.

In biblical times, leprosy was considered a terrible disease, which it is; but not to the extend of limited scientific understanding available today; but those who were diagnosed as being afflicted with the disease were considered as good as dead and relegated to go and live among the tombs, away from the living for fear of the spread of the disease. Thus the phrase, "They stood at a distance." As Jesus walks by these ten men, they cried to Him, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!" Jesus simply replies, "Go, show yourselves to the priests," meaning you are healed now and ready to join the living; and as they moved towards where they could find the priests, they were made clean of this disease. It was yet another miracle performed by Jesus, removing the death curse and replaced it with life. Make that the fullness of life, for now they would return to their wives, their children, perhaps mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, and start life again. What joy filled their hearts!

Yet, the point of this passage, in my opinion, is that only one of the ten, when seeing he was healed, returned back to Jesus to thank Him. Actually, as he saw the newness of his skin, praise filled his mouth and he praised God in a loud voice. The man threw himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. The Bible makes it clear to us that his man was a foreigner, a not-always-welcome kind; who took the initiative to give thanks to God in a very loud way. Remember, all ten are healed. Every single one. The miracle isn't partial or selective—it's complete and comprehensive. Their skin is restored. Their strength returns. Their identity as outcasts is over. They can go home. They can embrace their families. They can worship again. They can rebuild their lives.

For ten desperate men, this is the answer to years of prayers. This is the miracle they've been begging God to provide. This is everything they've been longing for.

But something stunning happens in verse 15: only one turns back.

One man—and significantly, he's a Samaritan, a foreigner, someone doubly marginalized—realizes that healing without thanksgiving is incomplete. He doesn't wait until after he's seen the priest, doesn't delay until he's properly certified as clean, doesn't postpone his gratitude until it's convenient. He turns around immediately, praising God at the top of his voice, and throws himself at Jesus' feet.

Jesus' response is telling: "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?"

This isn't petty scorekeeping. Jesus isn't wounded by their ingratitude in a personal sense. Rather, he's pointing out a profound spiritual reality: the nine received healing, but only one received wholeness. The nine got what they asked for; the one got something more—he got relationship with the Healer.

The nine were content with the gift. The one came back for the Giver.

How often are we like the nine? We cry out to God in our desperation. We plead for help when life falls apart. We make promises about what we'll do if God comes through for us. And when the answer comes—when the job appears, when the relationship heals, when the diagnosis is good, when the crisis passes—we simply move on with our lives.

We're grateful, in a general sense. We might even acknowledge that God helped us. But do we return? Do we interrupt our schedule to say thank you? Do we make worship and thanksgiving a priority, or just a pleasant addition when it's convenient?

The Samaritan shows us that gratitude isn't primarily about good manners—it's about recognizing the source of every good gift and maintaining relationship with the One who gave it. It's about understanding that God's blessings aren't just transactions to meet our needs; they're invitations into deeper connection with Him.

Jesus' final words to the Samaritan are crucial: "Rise and go; your faith has made you well." Wait—hadn't all ten been made well? They were all cleansed of leprosy. But the Greek word here for "made well" is sozo—it means not just physical healing but wholeness, salvation, complete restoration.

The ten received physical healing. The one received something more comprehensive—a healing that touched not just his skin but his soul, not just his body but his relationship with God. His faith wasn't just faith that Jesus could heal; it was faith that led him into grateful worship and relationship.

This is the difference between using God and knowing God. The nine used Jesus to get what they needed and moved on. The one returned to establish relationship with the One who had given him everything.

In our microwave culture of instant gratification and constant forward motion, the Samaritan's return is countercultural. He stopped. He turned around. He retraced his steps. He made thanksgiving a priority even when he had legitimate reasons to keep moving forward toward his destination.

Gratitude requires intentionality. It means stopping our forward momentum to acknowledge where our blessings came from. It means making space in our busy lives for worship even when—especially when—we've received what we asked for and could easily just move on to the next thing.

The question isn't whether God will continue to bless the nine who didn't return. The question is whether we want to settle for blessings alone or whether we want the fuller relationship with God that comes through the practice of grateful return.

Where are we in this story? Are we like the nine, blessed but moving forward without looking back? Or are we like the one, who understood that the greatest gift wasn't the healing itself but the relationship with the Healer?

PRAYER: Jesus, help us be like the one who came back—not just receivers of your blessings, but returners in grateful worship who recognize that knowing you is better than anything you might give us. And this we pray, in full faith, in Christ Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, identify three specific blessings in your life and intentionally take time—interrupting your normal schedule if necessary—to thank God not just for the gifts but for His presence as the Giver.

I love you and I thank God for you! Remember, you matter to God and you matter to me. Bless someone today with a blessing!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

The Geography of Grief

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1 By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion. 2 On the willows there we hung up our harps. 3 For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!" 4 How could we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land? 5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! 6 Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy. 7 Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem's fall, how they said, "Tear it down! Tear it down! Down to its foundations!" 8 O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! 9 Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock! (Psalm 137 NRV)

So from the banks of Tranquitas Creek to the bayous of Houston I was transplanted. The first few months in Houston were filled with tears and longing for the "good old days" of living in a small South Texas town. We knew the reality; there was no work in K-town for my Dad and Houston had been feeding us even before we moved there. Thank God we were not held captive there with captors who asked us to sing nor torture us. Our move was voluntary and very much needed.

The psalmist is sharing his honest recollection of his experience as a Prisoner of War, carted off by force from Zion to this new place in Babylon. He ia honest in asking how he could possibly sing the songs of the Lord in a strange land?

This is more than physical exile—it's spiritual dislocation. These are worship leaders with nothing to worship, musicians with no stage, people of God in a godless land. Their harps hang silent on the willow trees, instruments of praise now monuments to grief.

We all know what it's like to find ourselves in places we never intended to be—not just geographically, but emotionally, spiritually, relationally. Perhaps you're sitting by your own river of Babylon today, wondering how you ended up so far from where you thought you'd be. Sometimes the hardest part of suffering isn't the suffering itself but having that suffering misunderstood or mocked by others. When people treat your sacred losses as trivial, when they ask you to perform spiritually for their satisfaction, when they don't understand why you can't just "get over it" and move on—that compounds the pain.

"How could we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?" This isn't defiance—it's devastation. It's the cry of people whose hearts are so broken that song feels impossible. How do you worship when everything feels wrong? How do you praise when you're in pain? How do you sing about God's faithfulness when His promises seem distant?

This question gives us permission to acknowledge that sometimes worship is hard. Sometimes praise doesn't come easily. Sometimes the gap between what we believe about God and what we're experiencing in life feels too wide to bridge with a song.

The psalm doesn't condemn this struggle—it names it. Faith isn't always expressed in singing. Sometimes faith looks like sitting by a river and weeping, like hanging up your harp because you can't play it right now, like honestly admitting that worship feels impossible.

Despite their inability to sing, the exiles make a fierce commitment: they will not forget. Even if they can't worship right now, they won't abandon their identity as God's people.

This is the paradox of faith in crisis—you might not be able to sing, but you refuse to forget the songs. You might not feel God's presence, but you won't deny His reality. You might be sitting in Babylon, but you won't pretend it's home. You might hang up your harp, but you won't throw it away.

There's a profound faithfulness in this refusal to forget. When everything in you wants to move on, to assimilate, to just accept your new reality and stop grieving what was lost—choosing to remember is an act of resistance, a declaration that your displacement is temporary, that Babylon is not your destiny.

Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem's fall, how they said, 'Tear it down! Tear it down! Down to its foundations!' O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!"

These final verses are jarring, uncomfortable, even shocking. The psalm moves from grief to rage, from sadness to a desire for revenge so violent it's hard to read. Many modern readers want to skip these verses or explain them away.

But here's what's remarkable: this raw, unfiltered anger is in Scripture. God included these words in His Word. This suggests that God makes space for our rage, that He can handle our most honest, ugly emotions, that He doesn't require us to spiritualize our pain or sanitize our feelings before bringing them to Him.

While the psalm ends with anger, it doesn't end there in the larger story. The exiles eventually returned to Jerusalem. The harps came down from the willows. The songs were sung again. Babylon was not the final word.

This suggests that seasons of silence and grief are real, but they're not forever. The fact that you can't sing today doesn't mean you'll never sing again. The truth that worship feels impossible now doesn't mean it will always feel impossible. The reality that you're sitting by rivers of Babylon doesn't mean you're staying there permanently.

God is big enough to meet you in your anger, patient enough to wait through your silence, and faithful enough to bring you home again when you're ready.

PRAYER: Lord, when we find ourselves in places we never intended to be, when singing Your songs feels impossible and our harps hang silent, help us to remember who we are and whose we are. Give us permission to grieve honestly, to struggle authentically, and to bring our whole selves—including our rage and confusion—into Your presence. Thank You for making space for our pain and for the promise that exile isn't forever. Sustain us until we can sing again. In Jesus' strong name we pray, Amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, if you're in a season where worship feels impossible, give yourself permission to be honest with God about your struggle while making one small act of "remembering"—perhaps journaling about God's past faithfulness, reviewing old prayers He's answered, or simply declaring out loud, "I may not be able to sing right now, but I refuse to forget."

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to me and you matter to God; now go and make your witness matter!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Once Glorious, Now Abandoned

dustoffthebible.com

View devo: https://bit.ly/46xOWTr

Hear devo: https://bit.ly/4nY1lps

1 How lonely sits the city that once was full of people! How like a widow she has become, she that was great among the nations! She that was a princess among the provinces has become a vassal. 2 She weeps bitterly in the night, with tears on her cheeks; among all her lovers she has no one to comfort her; all her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they have become her enemies. 3 Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude; she lives now among the nations, and finds no resting place; her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress. 4 The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to the festivals; all her gates are desolate, her priests groan; her young girls grieve, and her lot is bitter. 5 Her foes have become the masters, her enemies prosper, because the Lord has made her suffer for the multitude of her transgressions; her children have gone away, captives before the foe. 6 From daughter Zion has departed all her majesty. Her princes have become like stags that find no pasture; they fled without strength before the pursuer. (Lamentations 1:1-6 NIV)

Wonderful Wednesday! As we pray today, please pray for Mr. Juan Rodriguez, of Austin. He's the husband of Ms. Julia Chapa Rodriguez, a longtime friend and member of the church I served in Mission for eleven years. Juan has been battling cancer for a year and is now in hospice care. He is unresponsive but resting comfortably at Christopher House in Austin. May God have mercy on Juan and grant him peace and share with Julie and daughter Paloma, comfort and strength during this difficult time.

The prophet Jeremiah, yes, the "weeping prophet" we love so much, is believed to be the author of this Old Testament book. According to what is known about the years Jeremiah lived, coincide with the year that the city of Jerusalem was destroyed. We as a nation, thank God, have never lost a city in the same way that Israel lost Jerusalem. We have come close in our history due to wars we have fought and the most recent was the 9/11 attack on New York City, but we were spared. The reality is that, if we are not careful, might bring that destruction upon ourselves. We pray not. But in keeping with the reality that was the Old Testament, Israel continued to sin against God, inviting God to judge against them. They were blinded by their greed or desires and not led by the Spirit; soon they were losing everything even in spite of Jeremiah's calls to repent and return to God. It sounds like our story, for we have all been there before. It may not have been a temple we have lost but we have lost relationships, family members, friends, jobs, et al because of our blindness to sin.

This isn't just historical lament—it's a mirror for our own experiences of loss. We all know what it's like to look at something that used to be vibrant and see it diminished. Whether it's a relationship that has cooled, a dream that has died, a ministry that has struggled, or faith that has dimmed—we understand the ache of "how." Just as the prophet began his passage in verse one; "How?"

"Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are on her cheeks. Among all her lovers there is no one to comfort her. All her friends have betrayed her; they have become her enemies." The image of Jerusalem weeping alone at night is haunting. In her moment of greatest need, those she counted on have abandoned her.

There's a particular pain in being alone during suffering, in discovering that people you thought were friends disappear when times get hard. The word "lovers" here refers to political allies who proved unreliable, "friends" who became enemies when loyalty became costly.

This speaks to the isolation that often accompanies crisis. When your world falls apart, you discover who really stands with you. Sometimes the greatest pain isn't the loss itself but the loneliness that accompanies it—the realization that you're weeping alone while others have moved on.

This is where the lament becomes uncomfortable for us. It's one thing to grieve losses that come from circumstances beyond our control. It's another to face losses that stem from our own choices. Sometimes our "how did this happen?" must give way to "I know exactly how this happened—through my own decisions."

Yet even in acknowledging responsibility, the lament continues. Confession doesn't eliminate grief. Understanding why something happened doesn't make it hurt less. The writer of Lamentations holds both truths: Jerusalem's suffering is deserved, and it still breaks the heart.

Lamentations doesn't rush to comfort or quickly move to hope. It sits in the ash heap and weeps. It names the loss, describes the pain, and refuses to minimize the devastation. This is important because honest grief is part of healing, not an obstacle to it.

In our quick-fix culture, we're uncomfortable with prolonged sadness. We want to move people from lament to praise as quickly as possible. But Lamentations shows us that God gives us space to grieve, permission to be devastated, freedom to say "how" without immediately having to say "hallelujah."

If you're in a season of loss—if something that was once vibrant is now desolate, if your "splendor has departed," if you're weeping alone at night—these verses give you permission to acknowledge that reality without pretending it's not as bad as it feels.

While this passage is heavy with grief, it's not without hope. The very act of writing these words, of forming thoughts about the pain, represents a step toward processing and eventually moving through the loss. Lament isn't the destination—it's the pathway.

By honestly naming what's been lost, by acknowledging the pain without minimizing it, by sitting in the devastation without rushing past it, we create space for genuine healing rather than superficial recovery. We honor what was good about what we've lost while facing the reality of its absence.

This is how we eventually get from "how deserted" to "how faithful is God"—not by skipping the grief but by walking through it with honesty and faith.

The passage also challenges us to examine our own role in our losses. While not all suffering is consequence of sin, some is. Sometimes our "why me?" needs to become "what did I do?" Sometimes our lament over consequences needs to include confession of causes.

This isn't about heaping shame on ourselves when we're already down. It's about the freedom that comes from taking responsibility where responsibility is due. When we acknowledge our part in creating our pain, we also acknowledge our ability—with God's help—to make different choices moving forward.

PRAYER: Lord, when we find ourselves in seasons of desolation, when splendor has departed and we're left asking "how," help us to grieve honestly without losing hope, to take responsibility where we've contributed to our pain, and to trust that You remain present even in the ruins. Give us courage to sit with our losses without minimizing them, wisdom to learn from our mistakes, and faith to believe that Your mercy makes restoration possible. In Jesus' strong name, Amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Bring one area of loss or regret to God in prayer today, asking Him to begin His work of restoration there.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Find someone who matters to you and let them know it!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Fan the Flame!

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View the devo: https://bit.ly/4mCQ3pH

Hear the devo: https://bit.ly/4nmiv00

1 Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, for the sake of the promise of life that is in Christ Jesus, 2 To Timothy, my beloved child: Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. 3 I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. 4 Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. 5 I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. 6 For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; 7 for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. 8 Do not be ashamed, then, of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God, 9 who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace. This grace was given to us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, 10 but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. 11 For this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher, 12 and for this reason I suffer as I do. But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him. 13 Hold to the standard of sound teaching that you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 14 Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us. (1 Timothy 1:1-14 NRSV)

Dear Friend; Happy Tuesday! As we pray today, pray for the family of Ms. Sally Storey, who passed away on Sunday; may God's comfort be with her family and all who Ioved her. Also, prayers this morning for Mr. David Marroquin, of McAllen, Texas, as he undergoes kidney surgery; may God restore full function to his kidneys and healing mercies for David. Prayers also for his wife Norma, and their family. Pray for one another. Pray for this old man as I go for an update from my orthopedic surgeon on where I am after this long period of healing. I undergo X-rays at 8 and the appointment at 9. Thank you all!

Do you realize that somebody told somebody who told somebody, who told somebody, who told somebody, who told somebody, who told somebody, who told you about the wonderful love of Jesus. Okay, there may have been more somebodies than I listed in this list, but you understand; that Jesus was that important and awesome, that they told you about it. It may have been your pastor, but that counts too! It may have been your parents or grandparents, or a family relative, or a school friend. In Timothy's case, Paul shared the faith with Tim's grandma, and his mom, and in turn, they shared it with him; Paul laid hands on Tim to give him the gift of the Holy Spirit. He also gave him, what Christ has given us, "God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline."

Timothy wasn't a spiritual failure. He had been personally mentored by Paul, had genuine faith inherited from his grandmother Lois and mother Eunice, and had received spiritual gifts through the laying on of hands. Yet even with this impressive spiritual pedigree, he needed to be reminded to fan his flame back into fire.

This challenges the assumption that once we receive God's gifts, they maintain themselves. The reality is that ministry is hard, opposition is real, and even the most dedicated servants can find their initial enthusiasm dampened by difficulty and discouragement.

Paul identifies the real issue: "God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline." Timothy's fading flame isn't due to God withdrawing His Spirit—it's due to fear creeping in. The Greek word for cowardice suggests timidity, a shrinking back from what's difficult or dangerous.

Paul reminds Timothy that the Holy Spirit within him produces three specific qualities: power (the ability to do what seems impossible), love (the motivation to sacrifice for others), and self-discipline (the wisdom to manage ourselves well). These aren't natural human traits that we work up—they're supernatural gifts that the Spirit produces in us.

The challenge is profound: When we're operating in fear, we're not operating in the Spirit God gave us. When we're shrinking back from God's calling because it feels too hard or too risky, we're living beneath our spiritual inheritance.

The phrase "do not be ashamed" suggests Timothy might be tempted to distance himself from Paul now that association with the apostle has become dangerous. Paul challenges Timothy to stand firm even when it's costly, to remain faithful even when it's unpopular, to continue proclaiming truth even when it leads to suffering.

This isn't theoretical theology—it's a call to courageous action in the face of real persecution. Paul is essentially saying: "Don't let fear of suffering silence you. Don't let concern for your reputation compromise your testimony. Don't let the world's opposition extinguish your flame."

The gospel is described as "good treasure" that has been entrusted to Timothy (and to us). This treasure isn't ours to modify, improve, or update according to cultural preferences. It's ours to protect, preserve, and pass on faithfully to the next generation.

The challenge is real: every generation faces pressure to compromise the gospel, to soften its edges, to make it more palatable to skeptics. Paul calls Timothy to guard the truth with the help of the Holy Spirit—not through human effort alone but through divine empowerment.

In an age that prizes innovation and novelty, Paul's words challenge us to value consistency and faithfulness. The most radical thing Timothy could do wasn't to come up with something new but to hold fast to what he had been taught, to guard what had been entrusted, to preserve what had been revealed.

This requires both courage and humility—courage to proclaim unpopular truth, humility to recognize we're stewards rather than authors of the gospel message.

Paul's letter to Timothy is essentially a call to stop drifting and start deciding. Stop letting your fire fade and start fanning it into flame. Stop shrinking back in fear and start stepping forward in power. Stop being passive about your calling and start actively guarding the treasure you've been given.

The beauty of Paul's message is that it's not all on Timothy. He's not expected to rekindle, guard, and preserve in his own strength. The same Holy Spirit who gave the gifts in the first place provides the power to maintain them. The same God who called Timothy to ministry provides the grace to continue in it.

But partnership with God requires our participation. The Spirit provides power, but we must choose courage over cowardice. God guards the treasure, but we must actively protect what He's entrusted to us.

PRAYER: Holy Spirit, rekindle the gifts You've placed within us, replace our spirit of fear with Your spirit of power, love, and self-discipline, and help us faithfully guard the good treasure of the gospel we've been given. This we pray in Christ Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, honestly assess whether any spiritual gifts or callings in your life have diminished to embers, and take one specific action to "rekindle" them—perhaps through renewed prayer, recommitment to service, or seeking encouragement from other believers. Ask yourself where fear might be causing you to shrink back from God's calling, and choose one area where you'll step forward in the power of the Holy Spirit rather than retreat in timidity.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, and you matter to me. Share that with those who think they don't matter.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Mustard Seed Faith

image from newlifenarrabi.wordpress.com

Hear the devo: https://bit.ly/4nmP79T

View the devo: https://bit.ly/3IynwUe

5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 6 He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you. 7 “Suppose one of you has a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Will he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? 8 Won’t he rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? 9 Will he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? 10 So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’ ” (Luke 17:5-10 NIV)

Happy Monday, Friend! So glad you're with us today! Let's journey towards the Lord as we seek to the Lord's will and purpose for our lives.

It was years before I saw for myself, a real mustard seed. Imagine my surprise that you can find thousands of them in the spice department of your grocery store! In a bottle no less! Okay, to be fair I hadn't frequented the spice aisle in our little grocery store in Kingsville, nor later when we had moved to Houston. Okay, I really didn't cook for myself much and the cooking that I did never really called for mustard seeds. My go-to spices are cumin, oregano, salt, pepper. I had been told, taught, and preached that a mustard seed was small. It's actually tiny.

We hear the Disciples asking for an increase in their faith. Interesting request given that since they said yes to Jesus to follow Him, they had been there at the source of faith for 24/7. They saw, heard, touched, and experienced things that many would have loved to, for they were watching faith in action. But even in the face of God at work, it can be easy to have doubts and fears. And as the Disciples realized the seriousness of what Jesus would undergo and maybe with them as well, their request to have more faith makes sense.

This request comes after Jesus has given them some challenging teachings about forgiveness and the cost of causing others to stumble. Perhaps they're feeling overwhelmed by the demands of discipleship, wondering how they could possibly live up to such high standards. Their response isn't to lower the bar but to ask for supernatural help to reach it.

There's something beautiful about acknowledging our spiritual limitations. When we admit we need more faith, we position ourselves to receive what God wants to give us. The disciples' request invites us to be equally honest about our own need for increased faith.

Jesus' response is surprising: "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you." The disciples ask for more faith, and Jesus essentially says, "You don't need more faith—you need to use the faith you have."

A mustard seed is tiny—about one to two millimeters in diameter. Yet Jesus suggests that even this minuscule amount of faith can accomplish the impossible. The problem isn't the size of our faith but our understanding of faith's power. We think we need mountain-sized faith to move mountains, but Jesus says mustard-seed faith is more than sufficient.

This is incredibly liberating. You don't have to wait until you feel supremely confident to step out in faith. You don't need to overcome all your doubts before you act on God's promises. Even small faith—faith mixed with uncertainty, faith accompanied by questions, faith that feels inadequate—is enough to move trees into seas.

Jesus' illustration of the mulberry tree reveals something important about faith. The tree He mentions would have been deeply rooted, firmly established, seemingly immovable. Yet He suggests that even this stubborn obstacle would obey faith as small as a mustard seed.

This isn't about the intensity of your belief but about the object of your belief. A mustard seed's power doesn't come from its size—it comes from its connection to the life force within it. Similarly, faith's power doesn't come from how much you have but from whom you're trusting. Small faith in a big God accomplishes more than big faith in a small god.

The key is not working up more faith but directing the faith you have toward the right target. When your mustard-seed faith is placed in an almighty God, mountains become moveable and trees become transplantable.

Jesus' teaching invites us to stop making excuses and start acting on whatever faith we do possess. Instead of saying, "I need more faith before I can..." we can say, "I'll use the faith I have and step out now." Instead of waiting for doubt-free confidence, we can move forward with mustard-seed certainty.

This means praying for that impossible situation even though you're not sure God will answer. It means offering forgiveness even though you don't feel particularly forgiving. It means taking steps of obedience even when you can't see the whole staircase. It means trusting God's character even when you can't understand His methods.

The beautiful truth is that God doesn't despise small beginnings. He delights in using inadequate people with inadequate faith to accomplish His adequate purposes. Your mustard-seed faith is enough to get started, and God will grow it as you use it.

The servant parable isn't meant to discourage us but to ground us. When we understand our proper role as servants rather than superstars, it actually increases our faith rather than diminishes it. Why? Because it takes the pressure off our performance and puts the focus on God's power.

When you know you're just a servant using the Master's tools, you don't have to worry about whether you're qualified enough, experienced enough, or faithful enough. You just have to be willing enough. The Master takes responsibility for the results—you just have to show up and be available.

This humility is liberating. You don't have to manufacture great faith—you just have to use the faith you have. You don't have to be a spiritual giant—you just have to be a willing servant. You don't have to move mountains on your own strength—you just have to trust the One who can.

Jesus' teaching is ultimately an invitation to stop waiting and start walking. Stop analyzing your faith and start acting on it. Stop measuring your confidence and start moving in obedience. Stop asking for more faith and start using the faith you have.

Maybe there's a relationship that needs forgiveness—exercise your mustard-seed faith and take the first step. Maybe there's a calling you've been avoiding because you don't feel qualified—trust your inadequate faith to an adequate God. Maybe there's a prayer you've stopped praying because you don't feel like you believe strongly enough—offer your small faith to your big God and see what happens.

The beautiful truth is that God isn't waiting for you to feel more faithful before He starts working through you. He's waiting for you to use whatever faith you have, however small it might seem.

Jesus' teaching contains both promise and process. The promise is that small faith can accomplish big things. The process is that faithful servants do their duty without expecting applause. Together, these truths create a beautiful picture of how God works through ordinary people who are willing to trust Him with extraordinary situations.

You don't need to be a spiritual superhero to see God work powerfully through your life. You just need to be a faithful servant willing to use whatever faith you possess, however inadequate it might feel. God specializes in using small faith from willing hearts to accomplish His purposes in the world.

PRAYER: Lord, help us stop waiting for more faith and start using the faith we have, serving You faithfully as unworthy servants privileged to participate in Your miraculous work, in Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, identify one area where you've been waiting for "more faith" before taking action, and instead choose to step out with whatever mustard-seed faith you currently possess, trusting God to work through your willingness rather than your confidence.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Invest in the Impossible

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Hear the devo: https://bit.ly/3ID2KTh

View the devo: https://bit.ly/4nS9Hix

1 This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD in the tenth year of Zedekiah king of Judah, which was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar. 2 The army of the king of Babylon was then besieging Jerusalem, and Jeremiah the prophet was confined in the courtyard of the guard in the royal palace of Judah. 3 Now Zedekiah king of Judah had imprisoned him there, saying, “Why do you prophesy as you do? You say, ‘This is what the LORD says: I am about to give this city into the hands of the king of Babylon, and he will capture it. 6 Jeremiah said, “The word of the LORD came to me: 7 Hanamel son of Shallum your uncle is going to come to you and say, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth, because as nearest relative it is your right and duty to buy it.’ 8 “Then, just as the LORD had said, my cousin Hanamel came to me in the courtyard of the guard and said, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth in the territory of Benjamin. Since it is your right to redeem it and possess it, buy it for yourself.’ “I knew that this was the word of the LORD; 9 so I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel and weighed out for him seventeen shekels of silver. 10 I signed and sealed the deed, had it witnessed, and weighed out the silver on the scales. 11 I took the deed of purchase—the sealed copy containing the terms and conditions, as well as the unsealed copy— 12 and I gave this deed to Baruch son of Neriah, the son of Mahseiah, in the presence of my cousin Hanamel and of the witnesses who had signed the deed and of all the Jews sitting in the courtyard of the guard. 13 “In their presence I gave Baruch these instructions: 14 ‘This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says: Take these documents, both the sealed and unsealed copies of the deed of purchase, and put them in a clay jar so they will last a long time. 15 For this is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says: Houses, fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land.’ (Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15 NIV Bible)

Happy Wednesday, Friend! May the joy of Lord be your strength. May your smile to all people to be one that reflects His.

When I was a sophomore in junior college, my Sociology professor, announced to the class that for the first time in many years, Americans could own gold. Gold at the time was $32 an ounce. Mr. Oliver said we should buy as much as we could afford and hold on to it, for he was predicting a sharp increase in price. I got excited! I had saved up $500! I started doing math and thinking riches. I soon graduated and I was in Houston and shared with my Dad my plans for my $500. Dad nixed the plan and said I should instead buy a car for the final two years of university. The plan sounded great in my mind, but I trusted God and on I went.

God was similarly involved with a weeping prophet. Picture the scene: Jerusalem is under siege by the Babylonian army. The city is surrounded, supplies are running low, and defeat seems inevitable. In the middle of this crisis, the prophet Jeremiah sits in prison—not for any crime, but for telling the uncomfortable truth about what's coming. King Zedekiah has locked him up because his prophecies are "bad for morale."

It's in this context of total hopelessness that God asks Jeremiah to do something that appears completely insane: buy a piece of land. Not just any land, but land in Anathoth, a town that's either already captured or about to be captured by enemy forces. It's like buying beachfront property during a tsunami.

But here's what makes this story remarkable—Jeremiah doesn't hesitate. When his cousin arrives with the deed, the prophet doesn't laugh, doesn't argue, doesn't point out the obvious foolishness of the transaction. He buys the field. Sound investment? Would you have made the same purchase?

From every practical standpoint, this purchase makes no sense. The Babylonians are about to destroy everything, cart the survivors off to exile, and leave the land desolate. Any reasonable financial advisor would have told Jeremiah to keep his money, that this was the worst possible time to invest in real estate.

But God's economics operate on different principles than Wall Street's. While everyone else sees only destruction and defeat, God sees restoration and return. While others focus on the immediate crisis, God is already planning the comeback. This land purchase isn't about current market conditions—it's about future kingdom realities.

Jeremiah's willingness to buy the field becomes a prophetic act, a physical declaration that the story isn't over, that God's promises are more reliable than current circumstances, that faith sometimes requires us to invest in what seems impossible. It was a public transaction so that everyone could see it and maybe, receive the hope that God shared with them.

"This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says: Houses, fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land." God's message through Jeremiah's purchase is clear: this isn't the end. The siege will end, the exile will conclude, the people will return. What looks like permanent destruction is actually temporary displacement.

This promise must have seemed absurd to everyone watching. Jerusalem was falling, the temple would soon be destroyed, and the people would be marched off to Babylon. Yet God is talking about a real estate market revival, about normal life resuming, about a future so certain that it's worth investing in today.

God's perspective always extends beyond our present crisis. When we see endings, He sees new beginnings. When we see destruction, He sees reconstruction. When we see the closing of chapters, He sees the opening of new ones. A foolish investment? No, an inventment made with God's help will make them realize God was at work in their lives and would bring desired results.

God invites us to join Jeremiah in making investments that don't make sense from a purely human perspective. Maybe it's continuing to pray for someone who shows no signs of changing. Maybe it's giving generously when your budget says you can't afford it. Maybe it's pursuing a calling that others consider impractical.

These acts of "illogical faith" become our own prophetic declarations—testimonies that we believe God's story isn't finished, that His promises are trustworthy, that His kingdom is worth investing in even when we can't see immediate returns.

Like Jeremiah, we're called to buy fields in enemy territory, to invest in God's future when everyone else is focused on present problems, to act on hope when circumstances suggest despair.

PRAYER: Lord, give us Jeremiah's courage to invest in Your promises even when current circumstances make such investments seem foolish, trusting that Your kingdom economics always prove wiser than human wisdom. For it is in Jesus' strong name that we pray, amen!

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, identify one area where God might be calling you to make an investment—of time, resources, or faith—that doesn't make sense from a worldly perspective but aligns with His promises and kingdom purposes.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and God has invested in you! Use it wisely!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

WARNING: Reading the Bible May Change You! (For the Better!)

Image from hamptonroadchurch.org

Hear the devo: https://bit.ly/42J8lyb

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19 "There once was a rich man, expensively dressed in the latest fashions, wasting his days in conspicuous consumption.20 A poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, had been dumped on his doorstep. 21 All he lived for was to get a meal from scraps off the rich man's table. His best friends were the dogs who came and licked his sores. 22 "Then he died, this poor man, and was taken up by the angels to the lap of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In hell and in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham in the distance and Lazarus in his lap. 24 He called out, 'Father Abraham, mercy! Have mercy! Send Lazarus to dip his finger in water to cool my tongue. I'm in agony in this fire.' 25 "But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that in your lifetime you got the good things and Lazarus the bad things. It's not like that here. Here he's consoled and you're tormented. 26 Besides, in all these matters there is a huge chasm set between us so that no one can go from us to you even if he wanted to, nor can anyone cross over from you to us.' 27 "The rich man said, 'Then let me ask you, Father: Send him to the house of my father 28 where I have five brothers, so he can tell them the score and warn them so they won't end up here in this place of torment.' 29 "Abraham answered, 'They have Moses and the Prophets to tell them the score. Let them listen to them.' 30 "'I know, Father Abraham,' he said, 'but they're not listening. If someone came back to them from the dead, they would change their ways.' 31 "Abraham replied, 'If they won't listen to Moses and the Prophets, they're not going to be convinced by someone who rises from the dead.'" (Luke 16:19-31 NRSV)

While we were still living in Kingsville, making it sometime before 1965, one of my Dad's younger cousin, who was an Air Force airman serving in Italy, died in a Jeep accident. It hit the Valverde famly hard. This young man was the son of the oldest of the Valverde brothers, of which my grandfather was a part. As we left Kingsville and started down the highway to McAllen, my thoughts were on death. I was young enough to know it was something, but what exactly I did not know. I also suspected it was pretty final, given the sobbing and crying it brought with it. We were driving in the family car, a blue 1955 Chevrolet BelAir and I remember seeing part of the dash was a round decor and I began to wonder if a machine could be invented to bring departed souls, okay I didn't know that word at the time, but if a dead person could come inside that machine and be spun around and around, maybe, just maybe, it would be made to come alive again. And this passage addresses the reallity of death as shared by Jesus.

I sometimes think the Bible as a book, our book, should come with a warning: "If truth scares you or confronts you, put the book down and walk away. Anything that you perceive to be political and opposed to your beliefs may just be God's way ot asking you to think twice about where you are and just who you are." Sadly, in reality, many do not even pick up the Bible because of that fear, or rely on others to teach them about what they think the Bible should be about. Sigh.

This is a brutally honest parable, like all parables that Jesus shared, to get us to truly and honestly examine ourselves; after these parables were about life and death with Jesus wanting all of us to chose life. He begins with speaking about a rich man whose name Jesus does not share. It's like the warning we used to see in the movies when they started: "The events are real. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Any similiarities between the characters in this parable and people in real life are coincidental." The temptation is to insert a real person's name in the slot where the rich man's name should go; and depending on your era it would have been Rockefeller, Astor, Vanderbilt, Carnegie, Bezos, Musk, Jobs, etc. But we won't insert a real name here today.

We have a brief description of what he was like; dressed nicely in the latest and greatest fashions, and his days were classified as "consipicuous consumption." Heard enough? Jesus then introduces us to a poor name whose name we do have, Lazarus. Lazarus—lies at the gate. Not just poor, but destitute. Not just hungry, but covered with sores. So desperate that he would gladly eat the scraps that fell from the rich man's table, yet even this small mercy is denied him. In the very classic Communion ritual, we heard, "We are not worthy to eat the crumbs off thy table." Hmm.

The rich man isn't portrayed as particularly evil—just oblivious. He doesn't actively harm Lazarus; he simply doesn't see him. This may be the most chilling detail of all. The greatest sin isn't always active cruelty but practiced blindness to the suffering right outside our gate.

Death brings the ultimate plot twist, The Great Reversal, as it were. Lazarus, carried by angels to Abraham's side, finds himself in comfort and honor. The rich man, in Hades, experiences torment and discovers that the beggar he ignored is now the one looking down on him.

But here's what makes this more than just a revenge fantasy: even in torment, the rich man's mindset hasn't changed. He still expects Lazarus to serve him—first to bring water, then to run messages to his family. Even in hell, he can't see Lazarus as an equal human being deserving of dignity. The heat makes this rich man so thirsty that he asks something he would not have done while alive; "Send Lazarus to dip his finger in water to cool my tongue. I'm in agony in this fire." Ouch. The idea this rich man so repulsed by the health state of this poor man, with sores licked by dogs, would never allow Lazarus to touch him, let alone dip his finger in cool water to touch his tongue!

The chasm that separates them in the afterlife isn't newly created—it's simply the eternal manifestation of the chasm the rich man created during his lifetime through his indifference to suffering. For me, it shows the separation that comes at our death. Those who loved, lived, and died in the Lord, get to go to Abraham's bosom; Jesus' way of saying Heaven. Those who chose to love themselves, and a hand selected few, will find themselves separate from God. And Jesus does get a brief graphic; it's hot, people are not dead but they're thirsty! The good will be consoled for their earthly suffering, and those who lived in comfort will be tormented like they did to others. And there is no crossing from here to there.

When the rich man pleads for someone to warn his brothers, Abraham's response cuts to the heart: "They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them." The rich man protests that resurrection would surely convince them, but Abraham delivers the story's most sobering line: "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead."

This isn't primarily a story about the afterlife—it's a story about the present life. We already have everything we need to know about how God wants us to treat the poor, the marginalized, the suffering. Scripture is filled with commands to care for the vulnerable, warnings about the dangers of wealth, and calls to justice.

The problem isn't lack of information; it's lack of transformation. We don't need more proof—we need more obedience to what we already know.

Every day we encounter our own version of Lazarus at our gate. Perhaps it's the homeless person we step around on our way to grab coffee. Maybe it's the single parent struggling to make ends meet in our neighborhood. It could be the refugee family in our community, or the elderly person in our church who sits alone.

The question Jesus poses through this parable isn't whether we're rich or poor in absolute terms—it's whether we have enough to help but choose not to see. It's whether we've become so comfortable with inequality that we consider it normal, natural, even necessary.

The rich man's sin wasn't having wealth; it was having wealth without compassion, abundance without awareness, comfort without concern for those literally dying at his doorstep.

This parable calls us to examine not just our bank accounts but our attention—what we notice and what we ignore, whom we see and whom we step over, whose suffering moves us and whose pain we've learned to tune out.

Jesus is warning us that the way we treat the vulnerable in this life reveals the true condition of our hearts and determines our eternal destiny. There's no neutral ground when it comes to justice and mercy. Our indifference is a choice, and it's a choice that God takes personally.

The good news hidden in this difficult story is that we still have time. We still have opportunities. We still have chances to see, to act, to care, to give. The gate is still there, but so is the choice of how we'll respond to who we find lying beside it.

PRAYER: Loving God, open our eyes to the Lazarus at our gate—help us see not just with our eyes but with our hearts, and move us from comfortable indifference to costly compassion. Let us live with our lives and actions as witnesses to Your power in the world; in Christ Jesus' strong name we pray, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, identify one specific person or situation of need in your immediate circle—your neighborhood, workplace, or community—and take one concrete action to help, moving from awareness to actual assistance.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Why He Wept!

Image from radical.com

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1 “ ‘At that time, declares the LORD, the bones of the kings and officials of Judah, the bones of the priests and prophets, and the bones of the people of Jerusalem will be removed from their graves. 2 They will be exposed to the sun and the moon and all the stars of the heavens, which they have loved and served and which they have followed and consulted and worshiped. They will not be gathered up or buried, but will be like dung lying on the ground. 3 Wherever I banish them, all the survivors of this evil nation will prefer death to life, declares the LORD Almighty.’ 4 “Say to them, ‘This is what the LORD says: “ ‘When people fall down, do they not get up? When someone turns away, do they not return? 5 Why then have these people turned away? Why does Jerusalem always turn away? They cling to deceit; they refuse to return. 6 I have listened attentively, but they do not say what is right. None of them repent of their wickedness, saying, “What have I done?” Each pursues their own course like a horse charging into battle. 7 Even the stork in the sky knows her appointed seasons, and the dove, the swift and the thrush observe the time of their migration. But my people do not know the requirements of the LORD. 8 “ ‘How can you say, “We are wise, for we have the law of the LORD,” when actually the lying pen of the scribes has handled it falsely? 9 The wise will be put to shame; they will be dismayed and trapped. Since they have rejected the word of the LORD, what kind of wisdom do they have? 10 Therefore I will give their wives to other men and their fields to new owners. From the least to the greatest, all are greedy for gain; prophets and priests alike, all practice deceit. 11 They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. “Peace, peace,” they say, when there is no peace. 12 Are they ashamed of their detestable conduct? No, they have no shame at all; they do not even know how to blush. So they will fall among the fallen; they will be brought down when they are punished, says the LORD. 13 “ ‘I will take away their harvest, declares the LORD. There will be no grapes on the vine. There will be no figs on the tree, and their leaves will wither. What I have given them will be taken from them. ’ ” 14 Why are we sitting here? Gather together! Let us flee to the fortified cities and perish there! For the LORD our God has doomed us to perish and given us poisoned water to drink, because we have sinned against him. 15 We hoped for peace but no good has come, for a time of healing but there is only terror. 16 The snorting of the enemy’s horses is heard from Dan; at the neighing of their stallions the whole land trembles. They have come to devour the land and everything in it, the city and all who live there. 17 “See, I will send venomous snakes among you, vipers that cannot be charmed, and they will bite you,” declares the LORD. 18 You who are my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me. 19 Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away: “Is the LORD not in Zion? Is her King no longer there?” “Why have they aroused my anger with their images, with their worthless foreign idols?” 20 “The harvest is past, the summer has ended, and we are not saved.” 21 Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror grips me. 22 Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people? 1 Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people. (Jeremiah 8:18-19:1)

A common line in social media is "Here I am crying again with strangers," meaning the video clip has made most people who have watched it weep. I'm raising my hand as I am an emotional person. Long ago I got rid of the old saying, "Boys dont' cry." In Spanish it was rougher, "Los hombres no lloran." My Mom's younger brother at age 14 had grown his first mustache and decided to go downtown to see about the girl situation in Mission. They had come down from Bishop, Texas, to visit my aunt in Mission, and off he went to the Mexican downtown and soon he was seen running back, crying. Everyone laughed and teasingly told him, "Men with mustaches don't cry!" And he sobbed, "I not crying with my mustache!" Weeping is a natural emotional reaction to things; some people cry easier than others, some pride themselves that they don't cry. Pray for those! My Mom liked to ask me and my siblings when we were crying if we thought we were Jeremiah, el llorón. And yes, Jeremiah is the weeping prophet and this passage shows us why.

The scene is horrific; the imagery of graves and tombs being opened and bodies and human remains taken out of their resting place and placed out in the sun and the moon, and God says, "Which they had followed and consulted and worshiped." They're not worthy of burial is what God is saying, such was their sinfulness.

Jeremiah's words overflow with a pain so deep that ordinary language can barely contain it. "You who are my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me." This isn't theological discussion—this is raw anguish from someone whose heart has been shattered by watching God's people destroy themselves.

The prophet sees what's coming: judgment, exile, the collapse of everything his people hold dear. But instead of saying "I told you so" or maintaining professional distance, Jeremiah's heart breaks. He doesn't celebrate being right about their rebellion—he mourns the consequences of their choices.

This is what it looks like to have God's heart for people—to grieve over their self-destruction even when they've brought it on themselves.

Jeremiah hears something heartbreaking—the desperate questions of people who suddenly realize they've lost what they took for granted. In their exile and suffering, they're wondering if God has abandoned them, if He's still present, if He still cares.

These are the questions people ask in crisis: Where is God? Why doesn't He intervene? Has He forgotten us? They're the cries that emerge when comfortable assumptions about God's protection and provision are suddenly challenged by harsh reality.

The tragedy is that they're asking these questions from "a land far away"—physically and spiritually distant from God because of choices they made when times were good.

God's response reveals His own heartbreak: "Why have they aroused my anger with their images, with their worthless foreign idols?" This isn't petty jealousy—it's the anguish of a Father watching His children chase after things that will ultimately destroy them.

The word "worthless" captures the tragedy perfectly. His people traded the eternal for the temporary, the substantial for the empty, the life-giving for the death-dealing. They chose idols that couldn't help them over the God who longed to save them.

God's anger isn't separate from His love—it's an expression of it. He's angry because He loves too much to watch His children destroy themselves without feeling the pain of their poor choices.

"Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people." Jeremiah's wish is both beautiful and heartbreaking—he wants an unlimited capacity to grieve for those who are spiritually and physically dying around him.

This desire to weep continuously reveals a heart that has been shaped by God's own compassion. Jeremiah doesn't want to cry because he's weak—he wants to cry because love demands it. When you truly love someone, their destruction moves you to tears.

The prophet models something we often miss in our culture of quick fixes and moving on—the ministry of sustained grief for those who are lost, broken, and dying.

Jeremiah's anguish challenges our typical responses to others' spiritual condition. We're often frustrated with people who make poor choices, annoyed with those who ignore wisdom, quick to write off those who rebel against God. But Jeremiah shows us a different way—the way of holy grief.

Holy grief doesn't excuse sin or ignore consequences, but it feels the weight of what rebellion costs—both to the rebel and to the God who loves them. It weeps over what is while holding onto hope for what could be.

This kind of grief is actually healing, both for us and for those we're grieving over. It softens our hearts toward the rebellious, increases our compassion for the lost, and aligns our emotions with God's own heart.

Even in this passage of overwhelming sorrow, there's hidden hope. The very fact that Jeremiah grieves reveals that love hasn't died, that God hasn't given up, that restoration remains possible. Grief implies that what's lost still matters, that what's broken can still be fixed.

Jeremiah's tears are actually a form of intercession—crying out to God for people who may not be crying out for themselves. His weeping becomes a bridge between divine justice and divine mercy.

Jesus embodied this same heart when He wept over Jerusalem, grieving over a city that would reject Him and face destruction. Like Jeremiah, Jesus felt the weight of people's spiritual condition, mourned over their rebellion, and cried for what their choices would cost them.

We're called to have this same spirit—hearts that break over sin's consequences, eyes that weep for the spiritually lost, voices that cry out to God for those who are destroying themselves through rebellion and idolatry.

Having Jeremiah's heart doesn't mean walking around depressed or feeling guilty for experiencing joy. It means allowing the spiritual condition of those around us to affect us deeply enough that we're moved to action—to prayer, to witness, to service, to love.

It means seeing people's rebellion not as an annoyance but as a tragedy, viewing their spiritual lostness not as their problem but as our burden, understanding that love requires us to feel the weight of what others' choices will cost them.

When our hearts break like Jeremiah's, we become part of God's answer to the pain we're feeling.

PRAYER: Lord, give us hearts that break over what breaks Yours—people living in rebellion, choosing worthless idols, and facing the consequences of turning away from You.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This week, choose one person in your life who is spiritually lost or living in rebellion against God, and instead of feeling frustrated with their choices, spend time in prayer grieving over what their condition costs them and asking God to reach their heart.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.