Psalm 84
By: Dave Sims
Father, you have made my heart your dwelling place. But first, you had to make a way for me to be right with you. And because you did, all that was left for me to do was to invite you to be my God.
I’ve been on this journey of life with you for over 60 years now. Along the way, I’ve come to see that your intent for me—from before the foundation of the world—was to know you as my Father. And in knowing you, to discover who I am and your design for me within your great creation.
It’s been a challenging journey, yet you have been my protection, my guide, my strength, and my wisdom—even when I couldn’t sense your presence. In you, I’ve found a deep sense of well-being, purpose, and hope.
Psalm 84 resonates deeply with me. I have learned that my soul truly yearns for you (v. 2).
Even though your creation has been corrupted by sin, it remains beautiful. And you have taught me that I am safe—even in a world marked by violence—because you have given me your indestructible life. I recognize that my excursions through the valley of Baca (Hebrew for “weep,” v. 6) has been a place of profound learning. In that place of testing, I have discovered you to be faithful and good—able to bring beauty from ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3).
And so, yes—a day in your house, in your presence, is better than a thousand elsewhere (v. 10). Because of the way you have shown me your affectionate, familial love (Greek storge), I now understand why Jesus looked at the cross with such concern—knowing it would mean separation from you.
Now, more than ever, I can say with confidence, “Blessed is the one who trusts in you” (v. 12).
Romans 8:18–34
April 2025
In the middle of Paul’s letter to the Romans, he pauses. The tone softens, as if he leans in to speak not just to minds, but to hearts that are tired—maybe even breaking. His theology doesn’t disappear; it just becomes more personal.
He knows there is suffering, frustration, maybe even some disillusionment among the Christians in Rome, but he doesn’t offer clichés. Instead, he lifts their eyes toward the "city of God" (Ps. 46).
He tells them—yes, it’s hard. But this isn’t the end of the story. He uses a surprising image: childbirth. Not a distant metaphor, but something visceral, raw, and real. The groaning of creation, of our own bodies, is not meaningless. Like labor pains, this sorrow signals that something is on the way. Something beautiful, long-awaited, and worth the ache.
Then Paul shifts again, knowing that when pain lingers, even the strongest among us grow quiet. Sometimes, we run out of prayers. We don’t know what to say. And it’s in that silence, Paul says, that the Spirit speaks for us. Groans are enough. God hears those too.
Paul doesn’t ignore the confusion of suffering—he steps into it. He reminds us that God is still shaping something in the mess. Not in spite of it—but through it.
We all know the feeling: that tug-of-war between who we are and who we long to be (Rom. 7:24). Paul knew it too. And he tells us it is the place where he does deepest work.
Because when we come to the end of ourselves, we stop pretending. We start reaching.
And when we do—when we cry out in weakness, when we drop the performance—we find something unexpected: Jesus. Not watching from a distance, but living His very life in us.
Even now. Especially now.
(Pondering this text, the following was my journal response to God in prayer)
March 2025
Father, your invitation couldn’t be any clearer. You call us to find in you what our souls most deeply long for and need. And we need not say, “I can’t afford what you offer,” because you give it freely.
You ask an important question: “Why spend your money on junk food when I supply the finest fare at no cost?” The only possible answer is that we’ve been deceived.
You remind us of your faithfulness to David—a faithfulness rooted in your covenant, well known and accepted. And now, you offer covenant faithfulness to us. This isn’t the one-time meal you’re serving; your dining invitation is ongoing.
You say: “Don’t be shy. Yes, you’ve failed in your faithfulness to me. You’ve even allowed evil and wickedness to take root in you. I’m certainly not pleased, but I am forgiving. Turn from your hardened heart. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. Come to me.
Come and discover what may seem strange at first—but is true. You’ve seen how easily you can be deceived, how the world has shaped your thinking and led you to believe that evil is good. But let me show you my ways. Though your worldly-shaped values may cause you to feel resistance; by trusting me you will come to see that my ways lead to fruitfulness. Goodness is the outcome we all desire. How foolish it is to do evil and expect good!
You will see. With me as your God—leading you, supplying you, empowering you—you will bear fruit, full of life and overflowing with joy.
This joy-filled life will mark you, preparing you for that great day when I will make all things right.”
By Dave Sims
Luke 6:12-49
A large crowd gathered to see Jesus, drawn by reports of His remarkable abilities. On this occasion, He healed many among them and, as was His custom, taught them (vv. 17-20). Jesus’s teachings were set against the backdrop of His compassion for suffering, demonstrated through healing.
A common theme in all of Jesus’s teachings was the present availability of the Kingdom of God (Mark 1:15; Matthew 4:17; Luke 10:9). Jesus’s declaration stirred hope among the Jews because the ancient prophets had spoken of God’s rule, which would one day bring restoration, wholeness, justice, reconciliation, harmony, and peace. They also spoke of a Messiah who would usher in these realities (Isaiah 11:1-9). Jesus’s healings and teachings reminded His listeners of Israel’s great prophets and His words were captivating, though sometimes difficult to understand. Everything about Jesus aroused this hope (Matthew 4:23-25; 7:28-29).
This sermon consisted of the counterintuitive message: the blessedness of loss—poverty, hunger, and sadness, likely due to death or injustice (vv. 20-21). Jesus was not glorifying these painful conditions but showing that they can cultivate a posture of dependence and receptivity to God’s rule. Loss can cause us to recognize our need for God and motivate us to seek him. Jesus pronounced this posture as blessed, emphasizing that God’s presence can satiate hunger in ways that even the greatest riches cannot and that God’s rule offers a hope that, if Tolkien is right, will one day make all hurt become untrue.
The hope Jesus spoke of was not focused on improved circumstances but on an inner transformation now and a reformed society in the future—a better hope (Hebrews 7:19). These challenges we strive to avoid, Jesus was saying, can provide conditions for inner reformation.
Jesus spoke of the Kingdom of God as if it were untouchable by thieves, tyrants, or loss. From our post- resurrection perspective, we understand that God’s Kingdom first takes residence within us (Colossians 1:27), making His abundance continually accessible (Galatians 2:20). The presence of the triune God within us can empower the poor to experience joy and love, and His presence can grant resilient endurance in the face of persecution and slander, resulting in a glorious reward in the coming Kingdom (Luke 6:22-23).
God’s Kingdom provides the abundance needed for a person to flourish internally—with joy, peace, andhope—leading to a transformed outlook, motivation, and lifestyle, regardless of circumstances. His rulewithin enables us to live and love as we were designed.
Next in His sermon (v.24ff), Jesus switched to talk about the woeful condition the rich are in—not due to their wealth, but because their riches insulate them from God’s Kingdom. Their wealth dulls their awareness of their need for God’s rule; their full bellies silence their hunger for God, and their good fortune shields them from longing for the world to come. This might have reminded some listeners of Ecclesiastes, where the author speaks of the vanity of having everything yet being unsatisfied.
In summary, Jesus wanted His listeners to recognize how their inverted value systems were truly upside down compared to the right-side-up values of God’s Kingdom—losses leading to God’s abundance, hunger to satisfaction, and inevitable losses that cannot diminish a person’s hope. Jesus further emphasized that while riches provide many things, they do not provide the ultimate things. The good things of creation bring comfort and pleasure, but only the Creator can fill the deeper void within. No one is immune to loss, and a life anchored in the avoidance of loss will eventually lose hope. The critical question not being, “Can I avoid loss?” but, “Am I equipped to deal with loss?”
In the remainder of the sermon, Jesus taught how God’s rule would shape His followers’ lives. He called them to love the unlovely—those who offend and even those who are enemies. He warned against assuming moral superiority that leads to unjust judgment and exhorted them to examine their own faults before criticizing others. He encouraged living generously and hospitably from God’s abundance. By embracing humility, generosity, and hospitality as a lifestyle, our lives can be rich with meaning, anchored in hope, motivated by love, empowered by joy, and filled with peace.
Jesus concluded his teaching by declaring that those who live according to His teachings are wise. Their lives will withstand the inevitable storms of life.