Technology has become an ever-present part of our daily lives, transforming how we communicate, work, and learn. As a believer, I’ve often wrestled with how to engage with these advancements responsibly—especially when it comes to nurturing my faith and sharing the gospel. One of the more surprising ways I’ve done this is through the use of an AI assistant in crafting blog posts and exploring Scripture.

Have you ever found yourself caught in the whirlwind of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) conversations, wondering how to respond as a follower of Christ? These ideas dominate today’s workplaces, schools, and social spaces, reflecting humanity’s deep longing for fairness, dignity, and unity. These values seem noble—and they are—but can human-driven efforts truly address the divisions in our world?

When we consider the life and suffering of Jesus Christ, it is easy to focus on the physical agony of the cross. But a deeper examination of Scripture reveals not only His physical suffering but also a significant spiritual and emotional suffering tied to His complete submission to the Father’s will. This submission, described so powerfully in Philippians 2 and 3, stirs a heart of awe and praise as we realize the magnitude of what Christ endured—not only for our salvation but also to give us His very life and live His life through us.

Many Christians find themselves caught in a cycle of self-effort, striving to live a life that pleases God but often feeling frustrated and exhausted. The harder we try, the more we realize our inability to live the Christian life in our own strength. Yet, the beauty of the gospel is that God never intended for us to live this life by our own efforts. Instead, He invites us to live "from the inside out," allowing Christ to be the source and expression of our lives.

In our journey of faith, many of us often grasp the truth of the exchanged life—Christ living His life within us and through us. Yet, when faced with challenges, we can revert to self-effort, striving to manage things in our own strength. This creates a gap between what we know intellectually and what we live out practically. Our challenge, then, is moving from head knowledge to heart experience—where we not only know Christ lives in us and through us, but we actively trust God to manifest this truth as we respond to the Holy Spirit.

I want to begin by saying that I see you. I see your frustration, your anger, and your objections to religion—and I understand where they come from. You’ve likely encountered or studied instances where religion, instead of being a force for good, has caused harm, perpetuated injustice, or turned a blind eye to suffering. You’ve seen hypocrisy, pain, and power wielded in the name of God, and it’s left you disgusted. I can’t blame you for feeling that way.

The search for truth is one of the most profound pursuits in life. Whether we identify as religious, agnostic, or atheist, many of us share a deep desire to make sense of the universe, our place within it, and the moral framework that underpins our existence. For some, this journey is guided by faith. For others, it is reason. And for many, it is both.

As followers of Christ, we are called to live in a way that reflects both His grace and truth (John 1:14). Yet, when we encounter sin—whether in ourselves, our community, or society—it can be challenging to navigate our response. The temptation often arises to focus on the sins of others, sometimes as a way to avoid confronting our own shortcomings. This dynamic can be especially evident in discussions about societal or cultural shifts, including those related to sexual ethics, addiction, dishonesty, or any behavior we perceive as contrary to God’s Word.

In guiding and small group settings, I’ve often noticed an intriguing phenomenon. When the discussion centers on walking with Christ—living out our faith and abiding in Him—it doesn’t take long for the conversation to shift. Instead of delving deeper into our relationship with Christ, discussions often veer toward theological minutiae, doctrinal debates, or speculative questions. While theology is vital and rich in its ability to illuminate truth, these detours can sometimes serve as distractions from the very heart of what we’re called to focus on: our walk with Jesus.

This pattern raises important questions: Why does this happen? Could it be more than a simple lack of focus? Might there be a spiritual dynamic at play, subtly diverting our attention from Christ Himself?

When the rich young ruler approached Jesus with the question, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”(Mark 10:17), he was met with a response that went beyond the surface. Jesus addressed not just his question but the heart condition underlying it: his attachment to wealth, which hindered his ability to fully trust God.

Now imagine Jesus encountering a modern-day skeptic, an atheist who asks, “If there is a God, what would it take for me to believe in Him and have eternal life?” Unlike the rich young ruler, this person questions not just what must be done but whether God even exists. How might Jesus respond?

A few months ago, I found myself in a situation that pushed me beyond my limits. After a two-week vacation, I returned home only to fall ill with COVID-19. Though I recovered and was no longer contagious, I was left utterly exhausted—physically weak and mentally drained. Yet, due to the already overwhelming schedule at work, I couldn’t take additional time off. Clients needed care, and rescheduling appointments would only cause more strain on everyone. The thought of facing a full day of clients felt impossible.

It’s not uncommon to encounter believers who feel strongly that the Bible alone should be the source of all our spiritual learning and growth. While it’s undeniable that Scripture is the ultimate and authoritative Word of God (2 Timothy 3:16-17), the question arises: Can biblically related books by Christian authors also play a valuable role in a believer’s life?

To answer this question, we must turn to Scripture itself and examine what it says about the role of teachers, the use of wisdom, and the broader Christian community.

As I’ve walked alongside others on their spiritual journeys, I’ve observed an intriguing pattern. Much like what David Kuykendall noted in his writings, the majority of prayer requests in church settings tend to center on physical ailments and bodily healing. Similarly, many of the people I guide struggle with an intense focus on their physical bodies—be it an ailment, a health concern, or even the looming fear of death. This preoccupation with the body often borders on the obsessive, leading them to scour the internet for answers or rely heavily on alternative medicine, but rarely to seek definitive, professional help.

This phenomenon raises an important question: Why are we so focused on our bodies, sometimes to the point of neglecting the deeper issues of the soul and spirit? The answer may trace back to a profound moment in history—the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden.

Have you ever found yourself struggling to serve someone you love because the task felt mundane, frustrating, or downright unappealing? Maybe it’s doing the dishes, folding laundry, or sitting through a conversation you don’t feel equipped for. It’s not that you don’t love the person, but the effort required feels like too much. What if those everyday moments were precisely where God wanted to show you how to live in His strength, not yours?

For over 20 years, I battled anxiety and depression. They were constant companions, shaping how I viewed myself, my relationships, and even my faith. But everything changed when I encountered the truth of the exchanged life—a truth rooted in Romans 6:1-14 and illuminated through the writings of many faithful teachers.. This journey led me from merely understanding the principles of freedom in Christ to living them, and it’s a story I feel compelled to share.

Welcome to Rooted in Christ: A Blog on Identity, Transformation, and Wholeness. If you’ve ever wondered why this title was chosen, it’s because it captures the heart of what this blog is about—a journey of discovering who we are in Christ, being transformed by His life within us, and experiencing the wholeness that only He can provide.

This post is an opportunity to share the vision behind the title, the truths it reflects, and the hope it offers to every believer seeking a deeper relationship with Christ.

The Christian life is a journey of continual growth. While we may treasure the knowledge and understanding we’ve gained through years of study, sermons, and personal experience, there is always more to learn about God’s truth and how to apply it to our lives. Yet, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking we’ve “arrived” or that the resources and methods we currently rely on are all we’ll ever need.stu

The darkness that covered the land during Jesus’ crucifixion is one of the most striking and mysterious events in the Gospel accounts. In Matthew 27:45, we read, “From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land.”This phenomenon, recorded in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, occurred at a climactic moment in Jesus’ final hours. But what did this supernatural darkness signify?

In John 14:9, Jesus tells Philip, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.” This profound statement emphasizes that Jesus is the perfect and complete revelation of God. Hebrews 1:3 further declares, “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being, sustaining all things by His powerful word.”

For many, this truth brings comfort and clarity—God is like Jesus. Yet, it also raises a challenging question: How do we reconcile the God revealed in Jesus with the God of the Old Testament, who is sometimes depicted as commanding judgment, destruction, and even death?

In Mark 10:17-22, we encounter the story of the rich young ruler, a man who approached Jesus seeking eternal life. He believed he had kept all the commandments from his youth and was eager to know what he lacked. Yet, when Jesus asked him to sell all he had, give to the poor, and follow Him, the young man walked away sorrowful, unable to part with his wealth.