Adversity

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1, NIV) Recently, a sweet gal sent me a message on Instagram. She wanted me to know more about her story. She thought she’d been obedient to God for the past decade after an immense heartbreak, but she was questioning that now because her life was still really hard. She wanted to know if I would be so positive and confident in trusting the Lord if I hadn’t met Chaz, who I’m now married to. Such a fair and understandable question. Trusting God without seeing the redemption we thought we’d get to see by now can feel like the deepest betrayal of all. It’s also what builds our faith, but sometimes we’d rather have relief than another learning opportunity. I sat with her question for a while. I don’t hang out in my DMs often and rarely get to respond as much as I would like to. But since I read this message, I knew I needed to respond. And I didn’t want my answer to just gloss over her deep pain with a few cliché sentences and a Bible verse. She deserved more than that. And so do you as you may find yourself navigating something similar. This is what I wrote back: I’ve spent many nights staring up into the sky, bewildered as I felt my disappointment turn into grief turn into numbness turn into distance from God. There were so many times when I thought God was about to turn everything around, but then things got worse, not better. Some of my darkest days were when I could not make sense of what God was allowing. And my fear was: Because God allowed all of this, what else might He allow? Slowly, I have realized I cannot attach my hope to God making things feel fair. And I certainly can’t attach my hope to the outcomes I desperately want. I have to attach my hope to who God is. He is good. He is faithful. He is my Father who loves me. God’s character, which never changes, is His personal promise to me. And to you. We can stand with assurance on who He is even when we don’t understand what He does or doesn’t do. There are still hurtful things happening surrounding my divorce too. I wish this wasn’t the case for either of us. I am grateful God has brought a man who loves Jesus into my life and grateful for all the joy that comes along with being in a healthy relationship. But even this gift comes with its own fears and uncertainties. So my challenge now is not to tie my hope of a better future to this new man. It’s the same lesson I was learning during the many years of feeling so very alone. It’s the same lesson once again, just with different challenges. I’ve asked the same question when my friends found new love while I was still in the midst of intense loneliness. It’s so hard. I understand and so wish I could look into your future and whisper back to you all the wonderful things ahead of you. While I can’t do that, I can promise God is at work. Hang on, beautiful friend. I wanted to make more concrete promises to her about what God is working on. I would have loved to give her a time frame to help ease her angst. I would love for there to be a way to make this possible for all of us. But I guess through my own journey, I’ve come to terms with the truth that if it was good for us to have this information, God would surely give it to us. So the fact that He isn’t allowing us access to these specific details lets me know that having that information isn’t what’s best. I rarely like not knowing or not having my “why?” questions answered. I don’t always want to leave room for the mystery of God. I’m not usually eager to claim verses like Hebrews 11:1 to be my favorite: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (NIV). I want faith to operate with the speed of my eyesight. I am desperate for visible evidence, so faith doesn’t feel so risky. But faith doesn’t work that way. Faith will always make us anxious and unsure unless we are confident in the goodness of God. If we stand firm on His goodness and know everything He allows is somehow flowing from that goodness, then we will have a lot less fear in trusting Him. Faith in God means to be assured of His goodness even when what He allows doesn’t feel good, seem good, or look good right now. This is a lot to sit with, but I hope you feel a little less alone today as you walk through your own hard situations right now. Like the sweet friend who sent me a message, we all have “what-if” questions we’re carrying around. But I’ve found the best way to fight through our toughest questions is to create space in our thoughts for more of God’s perspective. Prayer Father, I believe that You care deeply for me and know what is best for my life. Even in the moments when I don’t understand what You’re doing or why I’m walking through a certain situation, I will continue to be obedient and follow after You. In Jesus’ name, amen.   Have you ever thought, how can I trust God when I don’t understand what He’s allowing to happen right now? Lysa TerKeurst has been there. In her new book, I Want to Trust You, But I Don’t, Lysa will help you release the heavy mental and emotional weight of what you don’t understand by learning how God’s justice will always prevail. To grab a copy of Lysa TerKeurst’s book I Want to Trust You, But I Don’t, click here.

Have you ever wondered how you can trust God when you don’t understand what He’s allowing to happen right now? “So they impaled Haman on the pole he had set up for Mordecai.” (Esther 7:10a, NIV)  In Esther 7, we read an account of Haman’s downfall, the man who was planning to kill the Jewish people. Haman’s pride backfired, and his evil intentions led to his own humiliation. Ultimately Haman, the one who had been scheming to kill others, became the one begging for his own life. The very gallows he built to kill Esther’s beloved relative and guardian, Mordecai, became the place his own death took place: “So they impaled Haman on the pole he had set up for Mordecai” (Esther 7:10, NIV). He ate the fruit of his own wicked schemes.  No human could have possibly arranged for all this to happen… but God could. Even though God’s name is not specifically mentioned in the book of Esther, here we learn that sometimes, God does incredible moves without calling any attention to Himself at all. Esther certainly did her part, as did many others. But they didn’t do the wrong things to try and bring about the right things. Doing things God’s way and in God’s timing is the right way and the right timing.  This isn’t the only time in scripture where an evil plan looked like it was going to win. In the life of Jesus, his enemies (King Herod, the Pharisees and Sadducees, and Pontius Pilate to name a few) all believed they had created a foolproof plan to get rid of the Messiah and to overthrow His reign.  But the men who came against Jesus weren’t the only villains in the story. The ultimate villain was the enemy, Satan. But the irony is that the very plan of the enemy led to the redemptive story of Jesus’ resurrection. Evil forces set Jesus on the journey to the cross, but with every step Jesus takes, evil was closer to defeat.  In a similar reversal, the agenda and strategy of Haman brought about his own demise. In both Esther and Jesus’ story: There was an evil plan. There was an enemy. Innocent people were going to be destroyed if someone didn’t step in to save them. A hero came from humble beginnings and looked nothing like what the people expected. The heroes remained humble and honored God in their approach to handling the dire situation.The heroes were uniquely positioned by God to fulfill the plan of God.The heroes set aside what was best for them for a greater purpose. In the case of Haman’s death, it was the guilty dying in place of the innocent. In the case of Jesus, the innocent died in the place of the guilty. Oh friend, I pray we cling to this truth today: Darkness, sin and hopelessness have been overcome. Jesus did it for me. And He did it for you. Jesus loves you. Jesus sees you. The battle you’re facing, no matter how dark it feels, isn’t hopeless. We may not be able to see victory right now, but because of Jesus, evil is in the process of being ultimately defeated. The world as we know it now, plagued with sin and pain, is not our home. The new heaven and new earth are closer than we think (Revelation 21:3-8). But for now, our assignment is to keep following God and keep trusting Him. I know that’s not easy, especially when so much of what we are facing feels incredibly unfair. Sometimes I think I hold on to the burden of unfairness because I don’t see tangible evidence of God doing anything. But this is what I’m reminding myself of: we don’t serve a do-nothing God. Even in the silence, the unknown, and the places where it looks like evil is winning, He is working. We may experience evil in this world, but even still, God reigns over evil. There is a Savior of the world who will right all the wrongs. Even if it takes a really long time and even if I don’t see it in my lifetime. Victorious Jesus will have victory in the wrongs done to you and the evil committed against you. This doesn’t mean we give up. It means we’re giving over to God what was never ours to carry. In the meantime, we simply have to have room for what we don’t understand … for the mystery of God. Romans 11:33-36 reminds us of this: “Oh, the depth of the riches and the wisdom and the knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments and untraceable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? And who has ever given to God, that he should be repaid? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen.” (CSB) Prayer Heavenly Father, purify my heart today. I trust You to handle any and all outcomes that I feel unsure of or overwhelmed by. I lay down situations that are worrying me. Help me to be obedient to You. I want to walk in step with You, Your ways, and Your timing. In Jesus’ name, amen.   This is an adapted article from Lysa TerKeurst’s book I Want to Trust You, But I Don’t.  Have you ever thought, how can I trust God when I don’t understand what He’s allowing to happen right now? Lysa TerKeurst has been there. In her new book, I Want to Trust You, But I Don’t, Lysa will help you release the heavy mental and emotional weight of what you don’t understand by learning how God’s justice will always prevail. To grab a copy of Lysa TerKeurst’s book I Want to Trust You, But I Don’t, click here.         Check out this episode of The Grove Podcast, Shelley Giglio and Lysa TerKeurst unpack practical ways to move forward from places of hurt and how to invite life-giving community back into your life when fear feels overwhelming.

He is able to deal gently with those who are ignorant and are going astray, since he himself is subject to weakness. Hebrews 5:2 — What elicits tenderness from Jesus is not the severity of the sin but whether the sinner comes to him.  Whatever our offense, he deals gently with us. If we never come to him, we will experience a judgment so fierce it will be like a double-edged sword coming out of his mouth at us (Rev. 1:16; 2:12; 19:15, 21). If we do come to him, as fierce as his lion-like judgment would have been against us, so deep will be his lamb-like tenderness for us (cf. Rev. 5:5-6; Isa. 40:10-11). We will be enveloped in one or the other. To no one will Jesus be neutral. Consider what all this means. When we sin, we are encouraged to bring our mess to Jesus because he will know just how to receive us. He doesn’t handle us roughly. He doesn’t scowl and scold. He doesn’t lash out, the way many of our parents did. And all this restraint on his part is not because he has a diluted view of our sinfulness. He knows our sinfulness far more deeply than we do. Indeed, we are aware of just the tip of the iceberg of our depravity, even in our most searching moments of self-knowledge. His restraint simply flows from his tender heart for his people. Hebrews is not just telling us that instead of scolding us, Jesus loves us. It’s telling us the kind of love he has: rather than dispensing grace to us from on high, he gets down with us, he puts his arm around us, he deals with us in the way that is just what we need. He deals gently with us. Perhaps the most significant commentary yet written on the letter to the Hebrews was the work of John Owen. Of the twenty-three volumes that presently make up Owen’s collected works, seven of these are a verse-by-verse walk-through of Hebrews. This took him almost twenty years to complete, the first volume being published in 1668 and the last one in 1684. What does this great expositor of Hebrews say about what Hebrews 5:2 is trying to tell us? Owen writes that when we are told that the high priest “can deal gently with the ignorant and the wayward,” this means that he can no more cast off poor sinners for their ignorance and wanderings than a nursing father should cast away a sucking child for its crying… Thus ought it to be with a high priest, and thus is it with Jesus Christ. He is able, with all meekness and gentleness, with patience and moderation, to bear with the infirmities, sins, and provocations of his people, even as a nurse or a nursing father bears with the weakness…of a poor infant. Jesus can no more bring himself to stiff-arm you than the loving father of a crying newborn can bring himself to stiff-arm his dear child. Jesus’s heart is drawn out to you. Nothing can chain his affections to heaven; his heart is too swollen with endearing love. More than this, Christ’s “meekness and gentleness,” his “patience and moderation,” is not peripheral or accidental to who Christ is, as if his truest delights lie elsewhere. This very care, this gentle dealing with all kinds of sinners, is what is most natural to him. Owen goes on to say that Christ “does not, in his dealings with us, more properly or more fully set out any property of his nature than he does his compassion, long-suffering, and forbearance.” In other words, when Jesus “deals gently” with us, he is doing what is most fitting and natural to him. Indeed, given the depths of our sinfulness, the fact that Jesus has not yet cast us off proves that his deepest impulse and delight is patient gentleness. Owen says that this gentle dealing by the high priest “as applied to Jesus Christ, is a matter of the highest encouragement and consolation unto believers. Were there not an absolute sufficiency of this disposition in him, and that as unto all occurrences, he must needs cast us all off in displeasure.” That’s Owen’s old-fashioned, clunky way of saying: Our sinfulness runs so deep that a tepid measure of gentleness from Jesus would not be enough; but as deep our sinfulness runs, ever deeper runs his gentleness. But why? Why does Christ deal gently with us? The text tells us: “since he himself is beset with weakness.”  Most immediately, this refers to the high priesthood generally. This is clear from the next verse, which speaks of the high priest needing to offer sacrifice for his own sins (5:3), which Jesus did not need to do (7:27). But remember what we saw a few verses earlier in 4:15-Jesus himself, while “without sin,” is able to “sympathize with our weaknesses” (same Greek word as in 5:2) as “one who in every respect has been tempted as we are.” Jesus had zero sin. But he did experience everything else that it means to live as a real human being in this fallen world: the weakness of suffering, temptation, and every other kind of human limitation (see also 2:14-18). The various high priests through Israel’s history were sinfully weak; Jesus the high priest was sinlessly weak (cf. 2 Cor. 13:4). Contrary to what we expect to be the case, therefore, the deeper into weakness and suffering and testing we go, the deeper Christ’s solidarity with us. As we go down into pain and anguish, we are descending ever deeper into Christ’s very heart, not away from it. Look to Christ. He deals gently with you. It’s the only way he knows how to be. He is the high priest to end all high priests. As long as you fix your attention on your sin, you will fail to see how you can be safe. But as long as you look to this high priest, you will fail to see how you can be in danger. Looking inside ourselves, we can anticipate only harshness from heaven. Looking out to Christ, we can anticipate only gentleness.   This is an excerpt from Dane Ortlund’s book Gentle and Lowly.  To keep reading, click here to grab a copy of Dane Ortlund’s book Gentle and Lowly.  Content excerpted from Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortlund, ©2020. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, crossway.org.

Imagine we were sitting down at a local coffee shop, getting to know each other for the first time. As I sip my coffee with steamed oat milk, I begin to share about my family, my wife Brittany, and our four kids. I start by talking about how much I love my wife and how we met, but before I can finish, someone overhearing our conversation gets agitated and comes over and starts to accuse me of hating my children. Confused, I reply, “How did you come to that conclusion?” They respond, “Because you kept talking about your wife and never said anything about your kids!”  I know what you’re probably thinking right now. This is absurd. How could someone make that assumption? While this is an exaggerated example, it highlights the cultural context we find ourselves in—an age of polarization. Polarization can be defined as “the act of dividing something, especially something that contains different people or opinions, into two completely opposing groups.” The outcome of polarization is division. We have truly found ourselves in an age of polarization, and this does not exclude the household of God. Polarization is taking place on the public forums of Instagram, TikTok, CNN, and Fox. You may have even found yourself engulfed in a fierce debate on a Facebook post. It’s even happening around the dinner table when families come together to celebrate holidays. What is creating this polarization? Take your pick from politics, issues of justice, questions and concerns about gender, and the list goes on and on. We’re left wondering if there is a way to overcome the disunity of polarization and experience unity amid a diversity of opinions and views.  The good news is that the Bible has an answer for this. It requires us to reclaim an ancient virtue that was foundational to the Christian life and has been severely neglected today: the virtue of humility.  In an age of polarization that divides, Christ-like humility has the power to unite.  The initial response to humility may range from skepticism to flat-out rejection. In fact, this was likely how the first-century church viewed humility within a Greco-Roman cultural context. One of the prominent Greek words we translate as “humble” (tapeinophrosynē) could also be translated as “self-abasement” or “lowliness.” In Greek, there are words that are related to each other that convey the concept of humility, and this type of thing is referred to as “word groups.”  Markus Barth, a renowned Swiss New Testament scholar who lived during the second half of the 1900s, shared this insight about the humility word group, “The entire word group which belongs with tapeinophrosynē, according to its usage in common Greek, is used in a negative sense and means a low slavish orientation.” The culture at the time of the first-century church was highly competitive and focused on self-exaltation (sounds familiar, doesn’t it?). So anyone who had a low social status, who was weak or lowly, was considered “humble,” and it almost always had a negative connotation.  Given this cultural climate, imagine how shocking and disruptive it was when Paul told the church in Rome, “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud; instead, associate with the humble [tapeinos]. Do not be wise in your own estimation” (Romans 12:16). There had to have been some jaws on the floor. I can picture people sliding out the door of that house church thinking, These people have lost their minds. Ain’t nobody got time for dat. This isn’t the only time Paul said something like this. It was a consistent theme throughout his letters—he taught it to the churches in Rome, Corinth, Ephesus, Philippi, and Colossae. When we came into Macedonia, we had no rest. Instead, we were troubled in every way: conflicts on the outside, fears within. But God, who comforts the downcast [tapeinos], comforted us by the arrival of Titus.2 Corinthians 7:5–6 I, the prisoner in the Lord, urge you to walk worthy of the calling you have received, with all humility [tapeinophrosynē] and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.Ephesians 4:1–3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility [tapeinophrosynē] consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others.Philippians 2:3–4 As God’s chosen ones, holy and dearly loved, put on compassion, kindness, humility [tapeinophrosynē], gentleness, and patience.Colossians 3:12 He will transform the body of our humble [tapeinōseōs] condition into the likeness of his glorious body, by the power that enables him to subject everything to himself.Philippians 3:21 Why would the apostle Paul call the church back then and today into a life of humility? Because it was humility that Jesus Himself modeled for us in the incarnation and exemplified on the cross. It was the invitation of the humble Christ that moved an ancient society polarized and disunified into unity within the family of God (Ephesians 2:18-22). The payoff of Christ-like humility is a type of resilience that isn’t dependent on our ability but finds its power in the infinite ability of Jesus. The more we look to Christ, the more we fight against the polarizing way of the world as we become conformed to the likeness of Jesus. This is the power of humility in a polarized world. Humility is simply a three-part movement, and the order matters.  First, Humility is an awareness of God. Second, If we know who God is, we can know who we are. Third, if we are fully aware of God and ourselves, we will be equipped to rightly relate to others. Humility moves us away from the disunity that comes with self-absorption and into the unity that is possible only with self-awareness. When this happens, we can recognize the extremes within our culture that polarize us into divisive positions at odds with one another. With the self-awareness of humility, we can learn to find common ground. In areas where we remain in disagreement, we can still learn to honor, cherish, and respect the image of God within those we are at odds with. For the Christian, this means humility teaches us how to be: Confident in our convictions.Compassionate in our communication.Committed to the Kingdom of Christ above all else. We stand against our society’s polarization by modeling our unity around Christ, even in the midst of disagreement. We find ourselves prompted into a posture of compassion even in the midst of various disagreements.  And above all, we are reminded that we are first and foremost citizens of the Kingdom of God.  In a culture full of polarization leading to separation and division, reclaiming the ancient virtue of humility can lead us into unification as we remember who we are, whose we are, and how we are to live in the world as a winsome witness of Christ and His coming Kingdom.        To learn more about the ancient virtue of humility check out Dr. Joel’s book, Hidden Peace: Finding True Security, Strength, and Confidence Through Humility

In this talk, Ben Stuart explains what it means to have a Biblical response when the laws of the land conflict with deeply held religious beliefs. You will exercise allegiance; the question is to whom.

Katherine Wolf shares her inspiring story of suffering, perseverance, and hope, encouraging us to shift our mindset from the “what ifs” to “what is.” She teaches that if we’re looking for an escape hatch from the “what if” loop, we must have hope in God.

Join us as Ben Stuart sits down with the highly accomplished Olympian Andre Ward to discuss adversity, pressure, and the gifts that God gives us through the Church and His Word in those times.

Wrapping up the “Why Does God…” series, Ben Stuart addresses the purpose of testing, why God tests us at all, and how we are to respond to it through studying Deuteronomy 8.

This week, Pastor Joby Martin joined us from The Church of Eleven22. He takes a look at Peter’s story in the book of John and shares how Jesus’ resurrection transformed Peter’s life and is still transforming lives today. God uses our tests, trials, and even terrible decisions, and turns them into a testimony for His glory.

In all of Holy Week, Saturday may be the day about which the least is written but from which we can draw some of the greatest encouragement and hope. On this day, everything pauses after a week of dramatic and suspenseful events—from Jesus’ triumphal entry on Palm Sunday to His clearing of the temple on Monday to His initiation of communion on Maundy Thursday to His arrest, trial, and crucifixion on Good Friday.  But on Saturday, we wait.  As readers, it’s as though the first half of the drama has come to a close—a literally earth-shaking close at that (Matthew 27:51)—and we’re sitting in a dark theater during intermission feeling shock, confusion, and angst over how this story will end and how it could possibly be made right. Did we get all the foreshadowing wrong? Will good still triumph in the end? Why did God let all of this happen? Often, our circumstances in life feel like a bleak intermission after tragedy. A relationship ends. An application is denied. A pregnancy is lost. An opportunity is withheld. A diagnosis is made. A life is ended. But these circumstances are just that—an intermission in the full story of God’s good purposes in which we must grapple with grief, but we have not yet seen how God will take even what the enemy meant for evil and use it for good (Genesis 50:20).  In the darkest circumstances, when all feels lost, evil seems to have won, and nothing makes sense, we can trust that God is working as we wait, and our faith can hold both sorrow and hope.  On the Friday of Holy Week, as sundown approached (the start of Saturday according to the Jewish calendar), Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for Jesus’ body. He wrapped it in a clean linen cloth before placing it in his own tomb and rolling a large stone over the entrance (Matthew 27:57-60). This is where Jesus’ body remained through all of Holy Saturday—the only day in history on which the body of the Son of God has or will lie dead in a tomb.  Where was everyone else? The disciples who scattered when Jesus was arrested were likely now gathered in hiding together, trying to process a swirl of heavy emotions (John 20:19). They may have felt shock over their Lord’s death, confusion over all they believed, grief over the loss of their friend, anger over their fellow disciple Judas’ betrayal, uncertainty in how to proceed, and fear over the possibility that they could be arrested too.  From these disciples, we remember how dark it would be to face any “Saturday” without faith in Jesus’ promise that the last enemy to be destroyed will be death (1 Corinthians 15:26), that all authority on heaven and earth has been given to Him (Matthew 18:18), that the enemy has no claim on Him (John 14:30), and that He is always working all things for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).  Even as we wait in the intermission of our own “Saturday,” we cling to the hope—not that God will work out our circumstances on earth exactly as we want—but that all His promises are trustworthy and true, secured by their yes and amen in Christ (2 Corinthians 1:20).  The religious leaders, who remembered Jesus’ claim to rise on the third day, asked Pilate for permission to make the tomb secure, lest Jesus’ disciples steal His body and deceive people into thinking He had risen. Pilate told them to “go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” (Matthew 27:65) Apparently, their know-how was not sufficient for the task. They certainly didn’t need to worry about the disciples stealing Jesus’ body—those disciples, nearly all of whom were eventually killed for their faith in Jesus, would not have been willing to suffer to death over a body-stealing hoax that they knew made their faith a sham. The religious leaders were preoccupied with trying to keep people from coming into the tomb and overlooked their greater threat: they couldn’t stop Jesus from coming out.  They tried to keep people from coming for Jesus, but nothing could keep Jesus from coming for His people.  These religious leaders remind us that no work of evil, earthly scheme, or human cunning can hold back God’s will and work in our lives. Even if the enemy seems to have control in the darkness of Saturday, the God of peace will soon crush that same enemy under our feet (Romans 16:20).  The women from Galilee watched to see where Jesus’ body was placed on Friday, then returned home to prepare spices and ointments for His anointing, a work they did not finish until the start of the Sabbath, on which the Jewish law commanded them to rest (Luke 23:55). Their obedience to that command aligned God’s perfect timing for their role in His story. It meant they had to wait to visit Jesus’ tomb until Sunday morning, when they would be the first to learn that He had risen.  From the women, we remember that in our obedience, even when that obedience requires waiting, God is working—orchestrating people, circumstances, and timelines in ways we cannot fathom, just as He orchestrated all of the Old Testament to be fulfilled in Jesus. On the Sabbath day, God commanded His people to rest in Exodus, and Jesus Himself rested in the tomb. He spent three days and three nights in the heart of the earth, just as Jonah spent three days and three nights in the belly of a fish (Matthew 12:40).  He fulfilled every prophecy, such as Isaiah’s declaration that He would be pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities; upon Him would be the chastisement that brought us peace, and by His wounds, we would be healed (Isaiah 53:5, 1 Corinthians 15:3-4).  How bleak this world would be (and how hopeless our lives would be) if we didn’t have the hope that even in the midst of our “Saturdays”—those periods of grief, confusion, and loss in which we don’t yet see how a specific story will end—we know how the grand story will ultimately end. God can do all things and always has a plan, and no purposes of His can be thwarted (Job 42:2).  One day, His dwelling place will be among us, and He will dwell with us. We will be His people, and God Himself will be with us and will be our God. He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and there will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain because the old order of things will pass away. He will make everything new (Revelation 21:3-5).  Until that day, we wait with hope. Today may be Saturday, marked by a deafening silence between the crucifixion and Easter morning.  But Sunday is coming. And in this, we hope.

Join Louie Giglio as addresses one of the biggest questions, “If God is loving, why do bad things happen?” by diving deeper into Romans chapter 8, focusing on verses 31-39, and concluding our Epicenter collection.

Louie Giglio joins us for another week of Epicenter, picking back up in Romans chapter 8 and showing us how God uses our present sufferings for good.