A prophetic conversation to awaken joy, identity, and perspective.

This podcast is birthed out of encounter and friendship. Nick Padovani and Dylan DeMarsico, along with other friends, join together to create a space for scripture, revelation, and cultural insight. All of this geared toward opening eyes and hearts toward this great truth:

Christ in you, the hope of glory.

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If you’re new, begin with this episode:

→ Start with: “End Times Without Fear”

This conversation lays some foundation for many of the things we get into. You can find the link to more recent episodes below.

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The Heart Behind Elisha’s Riddle

This podcast is part of a larger vision: to awaken people to the reality that God’s Kingdom is not merely a future hope, but a present reality. Christ has brought His Kingdom near, and we are invited to live fully in tune with it today.

The name Elisha’s Riddle reflects that vision.

The prophet Elisha received the mantle from Elijah and carried forward the promises of the previous generation into his own. In the same way, we believe there are treasures God has entrusted to his people throughout history that are meant to become living realities in our generation. We are not called simply to admire the past, but to inherit it.

But God’s Kingdom has always come with an element of mystery. Jesus spoke in parables—not to hide truth from hungry hearts, but to awaken them. A riddle is not meant to conceal the answer forever; it invites us to seek, ponder, and discover. The mysteries of God’s Kingdom unfold to those who draw near.

Our hope is that each conversation awakens fresh vision, deepens your understanding of Christ, and equips you to walk more fully in the hidden Kingdom of grace, joy, and victory that is already among us.

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The Star Beyond Bethlehem

In the previous article, we explored the Star of Bethlehem and how this celestial event served as a literal sign announcing the birth of Christ. Whatever form this sign took, whether a comet recorded by ancient Chinese astronomers, or a rare planetary conjunction, its significance was found not in the heavens themselves but in the One to whom it pointed.

This is the pattern we’ve found in Scripture. The created order is depicted as a witness of something greater than itself. Stars, planets, seasons, mountains, rivers, and living creatures all possess a sacramental quality. They are signs, not in the sense of secret codes to be deciphered, but in the sense that they reveal something of the wisdom and purposes of their Creator. (And how beautiful that God infuses each work of art with divine messaging.)

The Star of Bethlehem may be the clearest example of this principle. For a brief moment, the heavens fulfilled their purpose in an unusually direct way. The lights that had been appointed “for signs” in Genesis 1 announced the arrival of the One through whom all things were made.

Yet the New Testament eventually takes us beyond the sign itself and directs our attention to something even more remarkable.

The star that appeared over Bethlehem was pointing to an even greater “Star.” This we learn at the very end of Scripture, when Jesus declares:

“I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.” —Revelation 22:16

The Message Behind Venus

This title Jesus speaks over Himself is striking for several reasons, not least because it draws our attention back to the heavens. Of all the images Jesus could have chosen to describe Himself, He identifies with the celestial body that announces the dawn.

The morning star is an ancient reference to the planet Venus. Though not a star in the modern astronomical sense, it’s been known throughout history as one of the brightest objects in the night sky. Just before sunrise, when darkness still covers the landscape and the world waits for the first light of day, Venus appears often in the eastern sky with remarkable brilliance.

For countless generations, travelers, shepherds, sailors, and farmers understood the significance of this “star.” The Morning Star was an announcement of the dawn. Even though the sun remained below the horizon, and night had not yet dissipated, the bright appearance of Venus was evidence that a new day was already on its way. The sun was about to break through the horizon line and wash away the darkness.

As you can see, the connection to Jesus and his mission is astounding.

The Dawn Has Begun

Jesus entered the world in the middle of history . . . not the end of it. The old creation was still groaning beneath the weight of sin, violence, and death. Rome still ruled. Slavery, murder, and war still scourged the planet. Yet through Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection, something entirely new entered the story.

The age to come appeared within this current dark age and the future broke into the present.

Because of this, our faith is not some wishful thinking about what may happen someday. Faith is learning to live in the light of what has already begun. The bright Morning Star announces a glorious certainty that does not depend upon present appearances. The dawn is coming because the dawn has already begun—period.

Like Venus in the night sky, Jesus is the stark pinprick of light that signals the end of humanity’s long battle with darkness. As we’ve been explaining, this is bigger than just a message of forgiveness or some allusive hope of life after death (as incredible as those things are).

The Child born in Bethlehem, who grew up to overcome death itself, was the first light of humanity’s true destiny: to be eternal temples of the living God, participants in divine life of the Father.

The Star of Bethlehem first announced this Mystery, but the Morning Star now helps to unveil its full meaning . . .

The Morning Star Within

In his final communication to the young and growing church, the apostle Peter told believers that we are partakers of the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4). Amazingly, his goes on to reference the “morning star” in this same chapter. And this reference is not about a Star far out in the heavens, but something much closer.

Let’s peer into this wondrous gem of Scripture:

So we have the prophetic word made more sure, to which you do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your hearts. —2 Peter 1:19

Right before he says this, Peter reminds his readers of another pivotal moment in the life of Christ, a moment that he himself was an “eyewitness” of—the transfiguration. This is where Jesus’s true identity was unveiled with dazzling light as God the Father declared the following:

“This is my beloved Son in whom I am well-pleased!”

What’s incredible here is that Peter just got done saying that we are partakers of Christ. In other words, what belongs to Him, we receive for ourselves. God’s declaration of Christ as a Beloved Son is also a declaration over us!

Are you catching this? This is what we are to “pay attention” to—as to a lamp shining in a dark place. Though darkness still appears to linger all around us, this word is true today. Peter then assures us that this truth will be fully visible one day—because the morning star will arise in our hearts.

These are unfathomable words. If Jesus is the Morning Star, then this is a direct proclamation of his glory rising within us. We are beloved sons and daughters right now—Christ being the first-fruit—and one day our true identity will be fully unveiled before the entire universe!

Awakened Humanity as a Starry Host

A divine side-note: When I flipped my Bible open to look for a Morning Star reference, I opened right away Philippians 2 where I came upon a wildly relevant passage. Before I show it to you, I want you to see the verses right before it. These include the famous phrase “work out your salvation with fear and trembling…”

Check it out:

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

Without going into a deep teaching on this, I believe the “fear and trembling” part has to do with refusing to place our confidence in our own efforts. Our salvation is already within us. “Working it out” is about letting it flow through faith. How can I say this? Because Paul affirms it when he says right in the same sentence: “for it is God who works in you…”

Our “work” is to let Him work through us—which has to do with trusting in our union with Christ.

But here’s the kicker. Paul goes on to describe what happens when we let the life of God flow from within us:

Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life… —Philippians 2:12-16 NIV

We shine like stars!

This brings us full circle. The Star of Bethlehem was announcing something greater than a singular Star, and it was about something more than a singular Person. Yes, Jesus is “the Light of the World,” but he told his disciples the same thing in the Sermon on the Mount—you are the light of the world (Matthew 5:14).

So, as we wrap up this reflection, let’s pause at the last line in this passage. Paul tells us to “hold firmly to the word of life…”

What is the word of life? It’s the word of Christ in you. It’s the same thing Peter tells his readers to “pay attention” to.

Jesus is the first and guaranteed fruit (morning star) of our identity. Holding firmly to this promise is like clinging to a lamp shining in the lingering darkness.

One day, the light will fully dawn . . . but for now we get to glow in the dark!

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Stepping Stones of Transformation

An Unfolding Manuscript

by

C. D. Baker

Chapter Twenty-One: Integrated Reception

The sometimes-agonizing process of spiritual-psychological transformation necessarily involves a long season of deconstruction. It can be an oscillating descent toward the space where we will eventually begin to integrate the emerging truth of whom we have always been.

The process is challenging. We necessarily discard fragments of our false selves even though we are barely ready to integrate fresh truths. We follow an unfamiliar road. Each inch can be disorienting, every step anxious-making.

Yet every movement matters along whatever winding way we are taken, even when we feel as though we are blindly tiptoeing. The beauty is that every step is pure grace and each stride is a divine gift.

If only we can learn to receive.

***

Winter 2023

I pulled into Bill’s parking lot mumbling to myself that I can’t possibly handle all of this. I feel like I’m coming apart, unravelling; that my center has disintegrated. Life feels too threatening and I’m grasping at survival. But who is it that’s in there striving to survive?

I’m completely exhausted again. That Christmas night thing along with [cousin] Elizabeth’s terrible death and the memory-trauma of Will’s experience has piled on to my entangled demons.

*

Bill welcomes me to my usual seat and we both get situated. “So how are you today?”

I hardly know where to begin but I tell him that I sense some kind of fragmentation. It’s like I’ve come apart and can’t find my way back. I add that this is all the more frustrating since the powerful experience of God’s presence in the ICU last April.

“So you feel guilty, too.”

“Of course.” I sip my coffee but my hand is shaking. “I had another one of those dreams about struggling but I can’t remember the details. I woke up and just told God I don’t know who I am anymore. Along with that came the very depressing idea that I have no meaning.”

“You’re discouraged, anxious, and worn out. You’ve lost your sense of self.”

“Yeah. And disinterested in anything that I’m doing. Even my new studies.”

“What are you afraid of right now?”

That’s easy. “I’m afraid of what’s being taken away. What am I losing in all of this...and what happens if I mess this whole process up?”

Bill interlocks his fingers and closes his eyes. “What do you fear losing.”

The answer leaps out. “My illusion of security and the ability to manage my fears.”

“So losing two illusions.” Bill watches me, carefully.

“Two. Right. Why am I afraid to give up illusions?”

Bill nods, sympathetically. “Because you don’t yet trust reality.”

He nailed it.

“Why don’t you ask God about your fear of letting go.”

“I do and he’s not delivering.”

“Are you sure.”

I shift in my seat. “I still resist something about him.”

Nodding again, Bill says, “God has already given you something very valuable. He has shown you his love.”

A lump forms in my throat. That and a sting of guilt.

Bill must see it in my eyes. He waits and then says, “And you’re afraid you’ll mess that up.”

Right again.

Bill stretches his legs forward and crosses his ankles. “You’re still hearing old voices from both your father and your childhood church. It’s not a matter of handling all of this perfectly. It’s a matter of experiencing the security of love... no matter what.”

I look past Bill through the window behind him. Cascades of memories fill me, memories of God’s blessings. An inner voice whispers, “All I want for you is to see my goodness.” A warmth rises.

Bill interrupts. “The truth is that you are not experiencing fragmentation. It may feel like it, but you are not coming apart. What’s falling away are your old thought patterns.” He smiles. “You are actually in a process of integration. You are being delivered into wholeness.”

I sit with that.

“The false-you… that shadow self we’ve discussed... has been slowly dissolving and that’s discomforting. What’s beginning to happen now is the integration of your true identity. That’s an identity that’s unfamiliar...and unfamiliarity makes any of us anxious.”

Lots to process. “I make this harder than it has to be, don’t I?”

We both laugh.

“It wasn’t long ago that Jeff [my medical doctor] reminded me to stay available to grace.” A snow plow splashes slush below. “Despite all my resistance, God has remained gentle and patient. His humility blows my mind. He has not judged me or made demands...”

I tap my coffee cup. “He’s been gracious and this whole process belongs to him, doesn’t it? Not to me. I’m pretty sure I’ve been striving to put the pieces back myself...and my way.”

“Yes, you have.” Bill sits upright. “Some of your depletion is your own fault. You come here but your history isn’t one of asking for help.” He leans in. “You may be ashamed to need it, or you fear it.”

Bill’s tone is firm. “Don’t let your father’s voice interfere with your receiving. It not only cuts you off from healing but it also deprives others the joy of giving. Others, like me.”

He sits back. “Receiving is part of becoming whole; it’s part of who and how you are meant to be as an image bearer of God. The Trinity models giving and receiving.”

‘And receiving.’ I jot that down, and as I do a question creeps in: Have I really received God’s goodness? I stare, blankly. I’m pretty sure I’ve resisted it...even rejected it.

Bill is saying something but my eyes are now fixed on my note pad. I’m guessing that receiving—really receiving—God’s goodness is critical. I’ve not let myself experience it fully. Why? What about that scares me?

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There was a time in my life where I thought that women only brought pain into my life. It’s very embarrassing to say, it really is, but just hear me out. Sometimes logical conclusions we make from our experiences are surprisingly illogical. Sometimes the narratives we make about our lives are powerfully convincing and yet are so very false.

When I was a kid, I didn’t dream about becoming a movie star or playing professional football — I dreamt and prayed to God that I would be a godly husband. I spent nights of my childhood fantasizing about coming home from the Long Day Factory, hanging my top hat on the coat rack and kissing my wife who was waiting for me at the door.

And then I entered the public school system. I realized quickly that I wasn’t a dashing savant who would marry his high school sweetheart. I was more like a dork who wore giant glasses, a brown polo, and had long greasy hair. So my identity — the things I built my measure of success on — was in shambles. It’s looking like at the ripe age of 13 I have not only forfeited my dream of becoming a godly husband, but it was something that was beyond my control.

I became vain. Not a vanity that drives people to dress better, but the kind of vanity that drives people to dress worse, to take less care of themselves, to show up with your head and shoulders down.

And all at once I drew a thick line between the unjust black and white of the world: “There are people who are attractive, and people who are not. The attractive people get what they want from the world. They achieve success, they get married. People who aren’t attractive, don’t.”

Don’t so many of us find ourselves in this way of thinking?

Yet despite this, I fought against all odds. I thought to myself that even if I didn’t find myself attractive or desirable, I can trick women into finding me attractive.

A cursory glance of the world and a precise assessment of your average couples yields compelling results: if you aren’t attractive physically, you can win them over if you’re funny.

What a relief! At least I can be funny.

But then look, here’s my best friend from high school. Unfortunately, he’s tall, he’s good looking, and worst of all — he’s funny.

Oh, he’s dating the girl I liked.

Oh, he’s dating the other girl I liked.

Oh, wow, uh… he did it a third time.

At this point I’m a sophomore in high school. I had a journal where I wrote in all caps how much I hated myself.

It’s so clear — my dreams are never going to happen because I’m short, I’m not good looking, and I’m not really that funny.

I’m fighting an uphill battle I can’t win.

There’s a kid somewhere inside me in all of this who is gently saying something like:

“Hey God, why did you make me look like this? I’ve tried so hard to work within the limitations you’ve given me! I tried being funny! In fact, I think girls do think I’m funny now, but they are still rejecting me. Why do you make some people defective? Why did you make me one of them? In this world of winners and losers, you chose to make me like this.”

In college, I had fully determined that no matter what my perception of myself was, I was going to live by a very simple rule: “no outstanding crushes.”

I would ask out every girl I was interested in. I’m more mature now, I know that it has to be impossible that all the girls think I’m ugly!

Oh how the rejection flowed! Liberally! I found myself absorbing rejections every two to three weeks. I would walk into college dorms every day, rip my shirt off, flex in the mirror, and say with consistent confident certainty, “Guys, I found my wife today!”

I wish that was how bad it got. I really do. Somebody stop this train.

But then she graced me with her terrifying awe. To my surprise, she accepted the date (I basically cornered her into going). She waltzed through the world, effortlessly gliding in circles with her roller skates.

I asked her on a second date, she said no.

Ouch. But you know me, I’m the suffering artist here. I’m the melancholy lover of this grand narrative of life. I rise above the odds. I love when there’s no love coming back.

I asked her out again, she politely declined.

My thoughts were flooded again with her floral visage. Does the romantic back down? Does the man whose convictions so blanket his heart let the mild perturbance of life’s foxes kill the vineyard of our love?

No! Certainly not.

I courageously asked her out again—over text.

“No. Certainly not.”

I had an inkling at this point that something in me was terribly broken. Like something stretching back through my soul, through my greasy hair in 7^th grade, through my pacifier as an infant, through my mother, through my father, through my grandfather, through my ancestors, through Jesus, through King David, through Adam and Eve was twitching and straining against me at that very moment and cosmically calling my utmost attention…

But then…

Oh, but then…

She arrived! The chosen one! … The promised wife! Not only the fulfillment of my childhood dreams, but my present and future ones.

Needless to say, I spent my whole life waiting for someone like her to show up. And she came to know quickly the full force of that sentiment. In my mind, she was more of a drug than a person. In a mysterious collage of events, she became a proof to me.

She proved to me that I really wasn’t ugly, that all of those pages of notebooks that I wrote about myself were all just a deception.

She proved to me that God cares, that He sees those who are suffering and provides them with good things. Maybe I wasn’t accursed after all to be a loser!

And most importantly, and through all of it, she proved to me finally that I was lovable. The weight of that being proven was worth the weight of all of life itself.

I figured out how to rig the system so I could spend the whole summer between junior and senior year of college living in her parents’ backyard in a camper, working for her brother and father’s oil rig business. It was hard work fracking in the 12 hour days of Pennsylvania summer, but the smallest of prices to pay for her. I never complained once about anything. My dreams were unraveling right before my eyes. As I drove around the property, cutting around the grass-shrouded oil pumps and wiping grease onto my blackened jeans, my mind became utterly consumed with our wedding, with our eventual union. I became lovesick. For the first time in my life, my heart felt a deep physical pain when I thought of someone. I remember thinking that it was impossible to love someone any more than I did then.

Words cannot describe the ecstasy of this situation. I felt as though I fell through the world into a completely different dimension, like my entire worldview of being unlovable was merely a nightmare, and she was my great awakening.

So what happens when she leaves?

Heartbreak did not happen. It was more like hatred. It was contempt. It really wasn’t even her I was mad at, it was me.

No, it wasn’t me, it was God.

If God chooses to give children dreams without guaranteeing their fulfillment, what perversion of a reality do we then find ourselves in?

Anger happened. A bitter disdain for life and beauty and meaning happened.

And now we arrive at the conclusion that women only bring pain into my life.

Eventually, through the help of wiser old guys, I figured out that there were two versions of reality I had to choose between.

1) I am correct. Women hate me, and my dreams will never become a reality. There is sufficient cause and a sound, logical argument to be made for becoming increasingly pessimistic and depressed about my lot in life and the nature of reality.

2) I am wrong.

And I decided that I would rather be wrong than for number 1 to be true. It took the humbling of that breakup to get to a point where I would even consider I was wrong, but here I am.

I found myself sitting across from two counselors, a grandmother and a grandfather. She kept pulling up pictures of her 3-year-old grandson eating watermelon. I have to admit, it really helped grease the wheels and it helped me view them both with enough goodwill to tell them that… well… I hated women.

They had me go through agreements I made with myself; things that I had told myself about myself and about the nature of reality. It was surprisingly clinical. I thought our 3-day session was going to be super emotional and like all the anger and bitterness of my childhood would come flooding out through healing tears, but it wasn’t that way. It looked like me coming into agreement with a Father, like signing a paper that allows the surgeon to perform surgery whilst acknowledging the risks. It looked like shredding old legal documents and signing new ones.

For example,

— “I break agreement with the lie that I am ugly and will never find a wife — she will not be there for me, and God will not help me find her.”

— I replace this agreement, based on the Finished Work of Christ on the cross, that “I trust God to bring loving, life-giving people into my life. My wife is one of these people. I trust in His timing.”

See? It’s not that complicated. I just had to agree with grandma that I’m not going to believe that lie anymore and we made sure there was something robust from God to replace it. And here’s the other crazy thing. It worked. I just don’t really think that women are out to get me anymore. I view myself as reasonably handsome. I don’t really think about the insecurities I had in my childhood. And her? The chosen one? Well, it just didn’t work out! No worries! Aren’t breakups and love lost the most normal things in the world? Don’t these songs about last Christmas have billions of streams? Feel the levity of that?

And you can do it too. I didn’t get that new belief about myself from a textbook. Hell, I didn’t even get it from the Bible. I gave the lie to God and asked Him for a new belief. See how simply relational that is? It’s a conversation from a father to his daughter where he lifts her whole tiny face up with his two gentle hands, presses his forehead up against her and says sternly, “You are beautiful!”

He will answer you too. Give it a shot. Get a couple people together who want to sign some new legal documents and just take it seriously. The lies are more powerful and deceptive than you’d think, and so is the incredible conquering of them through the Truth, Christ crucified. We’ll be waiting for you on the other side, when you get tired of the worldview you have, when the pain of carrying your deception hurts more than the identity you get from it.

So, in an attempt to put my happily-ever-after on this chapter, I’ll say this:

She was the kind of girl that was amazingly talented, relationally genius, and angelic in her innocence. Even now, I have no use or even the remotest desire to cut her down in any way. She is honestly just a great person, and an awesome member of society. She’s going to be a teacher, God bless her. World knows America needs some more good teachers!

But we have only scratched the surface. God is still hiding, waiting to be found in the heavenly game of hide-and-seek. And as much as I’d like to pretend I’m writing this from a distanced, grey-beard stroking voice, that counseling session was last week.

I have so much I am learning, so rapidly. So many agreements were broken in those holy moments — so much forgiveness. A dam is bursting in my heart as you read these words on the holy ground of my life. Again, this whole thing is not about sharing the right answers; it’s about sharing what God is showing me in narrative form, so thank you for your patience.

Tune in next time where I write about something a little more ethereal, more heavenly. Literally. I told God how I want my mansion to look in heaven, and I kind of want to tell somebody about it, so I’ll see you next month!

Welcome to Between You and Me. It’s called that because I ask that we keep this between us two. A lot of these things are quite personal, y’know? Wouldn’t want these things floating around on the internet where Christians can whip my words with the Bible, would we?

But it’s also called Between You and Me because there is a lot between me and God. There’s a lot between God and me and all of us, isn’t there? This book is an attempt to name those things so they can be healed. One chapter at a time.

Waylon Woody is a writer and minister living in West Milford, NJ.

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A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;

from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—

the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,

the Spirit of counsel and of might,

the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord.

Isaiah 11:1–2 (NIV)

The Fruit of the Spirit’s Life

The Seven Spirits of God describe more than attributes of the Holy Spirit. They reveal a way of life. The Spirit is life itself, and true life is found in the flow of wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, and ultimately the fear of the Lord. Isaiah tells us that the Messiah would delight in the fear of the Lord. That word delight could also be understood as pleasure. There is a pleasure found in God unlike any pleasure this world can offer.

Throughout this journey we have seen that the Spirits come in pairs. Wisdom and understanding belong together. Counsel and might belong together. Now we arrive at the final pair: knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

Knowledge, in the biblical sense, is not information stored in your head. It is intimate knowing. It is experiential. A mechanic knows cars because he has spent countless hours under the hood, behind the wheel, and immersed in the world of engines. His knowledge comes from experience, not merely information. In the same way, biblical knowledge is relational. It involves mind, body, and spirit. It is knowing through encounter.

As we’ve seen throughout this study, wisdom, understanding, counsel, and might ultimately revolve around love. Christ crucified is both the wisdom of God and the power of God. Understanding explains why we love—because we see the value of the one being loved. Counsel shows us how to love. Might empowers us to actually do it.

But the journey does not stop there. As love becomes more than a concept and begins to shape your life, you come into the knowledge of it. Yet ultimately this is not knowledge about love. It is knowledge of God himself, because God is love.

The biblical word for knowledge is even used to describe a husband knowing his wife. It is the language of intimacy. We have arrived at the crescendo of the Seven Spirits. The fruit of everything that has come before is knowing God.

And from that knowledge flows the fear of the Lord.

A Tree Bearing Fruit

One way to understand the Seven Spirits is through the image of a tree. Wisdom and understanding are the roots. Counsel and might form the trunk and branches. But knowledge and the fear of the Lord are the fruit.

Fruit is the visible outcome of a healthy tree. In the same way, intimacy with God and worship of God are the mature fruit of a life rooted in divine wisdom.

Knowledge is also closely related to revelation. Revelation is seeing something that was previously hidden. It is not merely learning information but receiving sight. I’ve heard intimacy described as “in-to-me-see.” While not a literal definition, it captures something important. Intimacy is the unveiling of the heart. Revelation is seeing into the heart of God.

This is why there is such a difference between someone who can argue theological facts and someone who actually knows God. One may possess information. The other carries revelation.

When I speak about the kindness of God, I am not simply quoting verses. Scripture is certainly my foundation, but those truths have become united with experience. I know something of his kindness because I have encountered it.

Knowing His Kindness

I remember one particularly tender moment.

There was a season in my life when I became deeply frustrated with God. I was facing a situation that I desperately wanted changed. It seemed as though it could change easily, and yet nothing was happening. I felt stuck. I felt like I was failing. The frustration eventually erupted into anger.

I can count on one hand the number of times I have genuinely yelled at God, but this was one of them.

I remember crying out, “What the hell do you want me to do?” The words came from a place of exhaustion and disappointment. Tears flowed. Emotions I normally kept hidden came rushing to the surface.

A few hours later, I was sitting at home feeling numb and somewhat guilty about my outburst. A movie happened to be playing. In the story, a young boy became angry with his father, yelled at him over the phone, and hung up. Later, the boy was consumed with guilt, convinced his father must be angry with him.

At the end of the film, the father unexpectedly appears and says to his son, “Even if you yell at me, I could never be mad at you. I love you so much.”

The moment those words were spoken, the presence of God flooded the room.

I knew he was speaking directly to me.

Peace washed over me. I felt his embrace. I melted.

It was the same love I encountered years earlier in a college dorm room when I was eighteen years old and far from God. In that moment his mercy met me, and it was as though he whispered, “I miss you, son. Come home.”

Those moments are not merely memories. They are revelation. They are knowledge. They are encounters with the living God.

And God desires to bring all of us into that kind of knowing.

The Knowledge That Leads to Worship

Part of walking in counsel and might is learning to receive how deeply God loves you. If wisdom is Christ crucified and power is Christ crucified, then much of the Christian life is simply learning to receive the love being poured out from the cross.

And that knowledge leads directly into the fear of the Lord.

The fear of the Lord is one of the most misunderstood phrases in Scripture. In our modern ears, fear sounds like terror. We imagine being frightened of someone who wants to hurt us or punish us. But that is not the heart of this biblical concept.

When Jesus quoted the Hebrew Scriptures, he often used language that connected fear with worship. The fear of the Lord is not about being afraid. It is about awe. Wonder. Reverence. Honor. Adoration.

Every time I have encountered the kindness of God, my reverence for him has increased. The first time I truly experienced his love, it did not make me want to sin more. It made me want to honor him.

The more you know God, the more you stand in awe of him.

Knowledge produces worship.

This is why these final two branches belong together. The deeper your intimacy becomes, the deeper your worship becomes. The more clearly you see his beauty, the more naturally your heart bows before him.

Worship is the fruit hanging from the tree.

The Circle of Light and Sound

Yet even here the journey does not end.

Throughout this series we have compared the Seven Spirits to the spectrum of light. Red represents the lower wavelengths and purple the highest visible wavelengths. We connected the fear of the Lord with that purple end of the spectrum—the place of majesty, mystery, royalty, and awe.

Yet the fascinating thing about worship is that it always leads us back to wisdom.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, Proverbs tells us.

So the highest point becomes the starting point again.

The same pattern exists in music. Western music is built around seven primary notes. When you reach the final note of the scale—“ti”—it does not feel finished. Instead, it creates a longing for resolution. It draws you back to “do,” but now at a higher octave.

The journey circles back while simultaneously ascending.

The same thing happens spiritually.

As you grow in love and intimacy with God, worship becomes more intense. His beauty becomes more overwhelming. His glory becomes more magnificent. Yet just when you think you cannot possibly go any deeper, he brings you back to the simple kindness revealed in Christ.

He brings you back to the red note of the cross.

The tree tells the same story. If knowledge and the fear of the Lord are the fruit, what is found inside fruit?

Seeds.

And those seeds begin the entire process again.

The Glory and Gentleness of God

The fear of the Lord is ultimately an awareness of God’s glory.

When Isaiah encountered that glory in Isaiah 6, he was undone. Standing before the throne, he cried out, “Woe is me! For I am ruined.” He suddenly became aware of every impurity within himself and within the world around him.

That is part of the fear of the Lord. God’s beauty reveals everything that is out of alignment.

But notice what happens next.

A burning coal is brought from the altar and touches Isaiah’s lips. His sin is removed. His guilt is taken away.

Just when Isaiah can no longer bear the weight of holiness, mercy appears.

Once again, the purple majesty of God leads back to the crimson grace of God.

This reveals one of the great mysteries of the Christian faith. God is infinitely powerful, unimaginably holy, and terrifyingly beautiful. Yet at the same time, he is the safest being in the universe.

Creation itself teaches this paradox. God created babies, puppies, and newborn chicks. Why? Because he wanted to reveal something of his tenderness. These tiny creatures radiate innocence, vulnerability, and sweetness.

But God also created oceans, hurricanes, jaguars, black holes, and galaxies. These reveal something else about him. They remind us that he is wild, majestic, powerful, and utterly beyond our control.

Both revelations are true.

The Lamb and the Lion are one.

The purple majesty of God is forever joined to the crimson blood of Christ.

Beholding His Beauty

If there is one passage that beautifully captures the Spirit of Knowledge and the Fear of the Lord, it is Psalm 27.

David writes:

“One thing I have desired of the LORD, that will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD…” (Psalm 27:4)

David’s greatest desire was not success, victory, wealth, or influence. He wanted to behold beauty.

He wanted to know God.

This is the Spirit of Knowledge.

The Hebrew word translated beauty is no’am. It can refer to beauty, but it also carries the ideas of sweetness, pleasantness, delight, and kindness. It was even used to describe honey. David longed to gaze upon the sweetness of God.

And when we behold that sweetness, honor naturally follows. Reverence naturally follows. Worship naturally follows.

This is why the fear of the Lord cannot be separated from the knowledge of God. The more clearly we see his kindness, the more deeply we trust him. And perhaps that is one of the greatest truths about the fear of the Lord:

You honor God by trusting him.

The Israelites saw the mighty deliverance of God at the Red Sea, and Scripture says they feared the Lord and put their trust in him. Their fear expressed itself as confidence.

They saw his goodness, and they trusted his heart.

That is worship.

That is the fruit of intimacy.

And that is the destination of the Seven Spirits: a life rooted in love, growing in love, overflowing in love, and ultimately beholding the beauty of God with awe, delight, and wonder forever.

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There’s a particular kind of moment that happens when different streams begin to converge—when poetry, scripture, testimony, and wonder all seem to be circling the same fire from different directions. This month’s issue feels like one of those times.

In Elisha’s Riddle, we continue our journey through The Song of the Universe with “The Real Meaning of Bethlehem’s Star.” What begins as astronomical beauty quickly becomes something more intimate—a sign not only in the heavens, but in the human heart.

We’re also introducing the first chapter of a new serialized work, Between You and Me, from Waylon Woody!! It is memoir, but not confined to chronology. It moves with a poetic honesty that resists polishing away the tension of lived experience. There is something refreshingly unguarded here and I’m looking forward to how this journey unfolds.

From C. David Baker, The Walking Stick Journal returns with a striking new installment: “A Paradox of God, a Cow, and an Elf.” This wild intersection of a title spills onto a highway of deep reflection on suffering and hope.

We also continue the unfolding of The Seven Spirits of God series where “Counsel and Might” are brought together in a way that reshapes how we think about divine wisdom and strength.

And finally, Dylan offers a pastoral and grounding word in “The Goal of the Father.” It is simple in tone, but weighty in its invitation, calling us again to re-center on what God is ultimately after in His work with humanity.

Taken together, this issue feels less like a collection of separate pieces and more like a conversation—one that keeps circling back to the same invitation: to see more clearly, to listen more deeply, and to recognize the presence of God in places both expected and surprising.

Enjoy...

Contents:

The Song of the Universe: The Real Meaning of Bethlehem’s Star

Between You and Me: The First Chapter

The Walking Stick Journal: A Paradox of God, a Cow, and an Elf

From Dylan DeMarsico: The Goal of the Father

The Seven Spirits of God (Part 5: Counsel & Might)

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In the last entry, we found ourselves staring into a cosmic parable. We beheld a stellar nursery, the Carina Nebula, which held the image of a Sower scattering seed into the universe. There, among pillars of gas and light, creation appeared to be singing the Gospel.

But as breathtaking as this was, we found that it is only a signpost. A starry shadow cast backward from a greater reality.

If the stars were created to be “for signs” (Genesis 1:14), then there had to come a moment when their symbolic purpose would erupt into literal fulfillment; a moment when the heavens would no longer merely echo the Gospel but would directly herald its arrival.

And of course, they did, in the birth of Jesus Christ.

The famous “Star of Bethlehem” is perhaps the most extraordinary celestial sign in all of history because it appears to be the moment when the parabolic language of the heavens broke into a direct historical proclamation…

The Hyper-Fulfillment of Genesis 1

A sign does not exist for itself. It exists to direct attention elsewhere. This is the great mistake of both ancient astrology and modern obsession with celestial mystery. We become fascinated with the signs themselves and forget to ask what they are pointing toward.

Scripture will always help to keep us centered. The inspired book of creation is best united with the great book of Messianic prophecy and fulfillment—i.e. the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures.

The stars were never the message, but rather the announcement of something cosmically important: that God himself had entered his creation.

The One who hung the galaxies stepped into flesh. The Architect entered the house. The Author wrote himself into the story. However you want to put it, the Child born in Bethlehem was not merely another human life entering history. He was the center point of history itself.

But there was even more happening here—before we go there, let’s explore the famous Christmas star.

What Was the Star?

For centuries, scholars and astronomers have debated what the Star of Bethlehem may have been. Was it miraculous in a wholly supernatural sense or was it an astronomical event providentially timed by God?

Or was it both—creation obeying its Maker in a way that exceeded our categories?

We do not know with certainty. And perhaps, that is quite fitting. Because again, the sign matters less than what it revealed.

Nonetheless, two possibilities stand out as particularly compelling:

The Comet in the Chinese Records

Ancient Chinese astronomers recorded the appearance of a bright celestial object in 5 B.C., visible for more than seventy days. Some modern researchers have suggested this may have been a comet whose movement could account for Matthew’s unusual description of the star appearing to “go before” the Magi and later seeming to “stand over” Bethlehem. The details we have of the comet’s location seem to fit this possibility.

This is especially interesting when ancient Chinese cosmology connected such an event with the rise of a new kingdom.

The Royal Conjunction

Another widely considered possibility is a rare conjunction involving Jupiter—the ancient “king planet”—appearing in extraordinary alignment with the constellation Leo, often associated with kingship, and in patterns that ancient eastern astronomers may have interpreted as heralding the birth of a royal ruler in Judea.

This possibility is equally beautiful. Jupiter, Leo, and other celestial bodies were regal “signs” of something happening among the Jewish people. This would have occurred between 2 and 3 B.C.

It is possible then that the comet first heralded the Messiah’s birth, while this conjunction of royal celestial bodies sealed the deal. The true King had arrived. This was the Lion—i.e. Leo—from the tribe of Judah. The heavens, unable to remain silent, declared his appearing in fullness.

Daniel and the Magi

What amazes me is not just the fact that these celestial events surrounded the literal birth of Christ 2000 years ago. Even more beautiful were the hearts that were awake enough to notice.

I’m talking specifically about those astrologers from Persia—ancient “Iranians” who saw these events because of a strong possibility that the prophet Daniel had taught their ancestors something about this coming event during his time in Persia.

Yes, there is a very real possibility that Daniel taught the Persian Magi to listen to the song that creation is singing!

Matthew tells us the Magi “rejoiced exceedingly” when they saw the star. But their joy overflowed when they moved beyond the star to what it actually heralded. They found the Child. God in flesh.

The sign had given way to substance, the shadow to reality. The music was reaching its glorious chorus.

The Destiny Hidden in Bethlehem

And so here is the great Mystery that still undoes me: The birth of Christ was not only a revelation of God, but a revelation of us. Humans, tiny brilliant specks floating through a celestial sea of signposts, were entrusted with a message of truly cosmic importance—for we alone can see and interpret the signs.

In the incarnation of God in the Child of Bethlehem, we see God’s true intent for humanity. The incarnation was not God temporarily putting on human skin like a costume. No, this was the unveiling of humanity’s own destiny. This was why the universe was fine-tuned to play such cosmic music in the first place.

God was unveiling humanity as the tabernacle, temple, and house of his Being within the created realm. And the lights all around us are guiding us toward the revelation of this union between God and flesh. (Not the bad “flesh” Paul brings up in regard to the law and self-effort, but our earthly dust that is uniquely fashioned to hold an infinitely valuable treasure.)

The forerunner of this great truth and destiny was born into a manger. He was both the Herald and the Source of this identity. And this is why the heavens rejoiced; why stars, comets, and planets pointed the way—and continue to do so.

And so the universe keeps singing. Not about itself, but of the One who birthed his Life within its luminescent canopy. He is the true Bright and Morning Star. And we have only scratched the surface of what his Coming means.

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I used to run alone in the dark, red florescence beaming above my head, crackles of gravel crunching under my feet – straight uphill, careening down. And I found I liked these moments, away from the more blinding glow of faces, away from the repetitions of pain I called life. I would listen to jazz ballads in my earbuds and imagined I was in another kinder world. There would be glimpses of it.

We roller-skated around a circle - an angel of light gracing me with terrifying awe. Her laugh was more like a force than an expression, her eyes were portals. She shifted the time signature of life into a waltz. She told me how fast she could run a 5k. I felt as though I was at the precipice of a new and kinder world. There would be glimpses of it.

We sat under a grey gazebo after a weeklong silence. My tears smashed into the cold metal table. Her hands in mine felt more honest than they were before. She told me I wasn’t going to be the godly husband she wanted. It was true.

Dark tendrils ambushed a throbbing soul, binding my stomach and squeezing upward into what should have been liquid heartbreak, but anger lay waste to sadness.

I had been in the kinder world and now I know it doesn’t exist.

And then I got into biking. But as it turns out after a few months of trying, biking doesn’t make me feel like I’m in utopia either really. And neither does poker or video games, or even serving in church. I was told that obsession with a hobby would at least numb the pain enough to make it manageable, but it actually doesn’t.

So I had this large problem – I thought my ideal world was on the other side of effort, and it just isn’t there. It just doesn’t exist. At least if it was there then I could reverse engineer it. I could figure out a 6-month plan to find utopia in my everyday life, which I would assume includes calorie counting and sitting folded on a towel with my eyes closed. But here’s the thing – it just isn’t there.

A cosmic horror the size of a leviathan emerges from the pacific. If you were to draw it on a globe, you’d see that it would touch each of the coasts. It’s our old friend reality who is always demanding our attention.

You are probably so used to him that you don’t notice him anymore. He’s the guy who tells you to put on deodorant. He’s the guy who makes your hiking trip impossible without an inhaler. He’s the guy who says it really would be better if you clocked out at 5 at this point.

He interrupts your dreams with nightmares.

And he interrupts your nightmares with dreams.

All he asks is you stay awake.

I have asked God where He is a lot. As it turns out, He’s kind of hard to find. He seems to like talking to the Pope I guess, and He definitely likes my pastor, but He doesn’t really talk to me all that much. And He talks to the people who wave flags around in my more charismatic church (otherwise, why would they be doing that?). So those people have obviously found God.

But when it comes to my prayers, it’s a buzzing red fluorescent glow of scorn. It’s almost more exhausting to pray now than it is to handle things myself. At least I don’t have to sustain the offense of no answer, the utter belligerence and neglect of a God – a father even - who I know reportedly cares but actually doesn’t.

And yet we know better, don’t we.

If we’re honest, we know God is -

CS Lewis wrote somewhere that heaven opens up in glimpses and vanishes just as quickly. For me, heaven shows up when I’m washing dishes. It shows up when a summer breeze cools my forehead. It shows up when I’m typing and the song I’ve been listening to for the 12^th time changes to a chord that opens into another realm. Yes, I can see the power and majesty of God by looking down from a mountain, but more often, the stuff that I resonate with, the things I think about in the car on my way home are whispers that I hear on ordinary days doing ordinary things.

I’m sure it’s God because the only thing going through my mind while washing dishes is what I will be doing next, or the food I’m going to eat on the plate I’m washing because I ran out of plates and I only have one plate.

The more I think about it, the more clear it is to me that God shows up in my reality more than my dreams. He appears in the girl I matched with on some app that loves Jesus, but unfortunately also loves country music. He appears during the conversation that is clearly awkward but somehow goes on for another 10 minutes. He appears in my real pains, and not my fake ones. I think He’s smart enough to do heart surgery despite my complaints that I want to eat more sugar.

It’s looking like God and reality are good friends.

He’s really there this God, and the reality is that He is inside of my soul. He is a divine mystery this Christ, the Hope of Glory. It would be quite astonishing if, at the moment of salvation, the cosmic reality of conversion became suddenly visible. What would we see? The light and glory of God Himself entering a human? Tendrils of light suffocating our sin nature to death? The author entering the novel?

And yet we find such disconnect, such mundanity, such feelings. Why is this? Why don’t we see such a dramatic experience? Wouldn’t that help the cause of Christ? Wouldn’t the stark reality of a soul being quickened to life be a sight for a sore-eyed world?

The obfuscation makes very little sense the more you think about it. If the reality of our spiritual conversion was made visible as CS Lewis said, we would be tempted to worship each other. We would be led to worship Christ all the more. And imagine the wiping away of tears! The aversion of breakups and death and the obliteration of sadness.

The only reason I can conclude that the God of the universe would hide something so powerful and so utterly transformational is if He intended it to be hidden. I am led to believe that Christ prefers to remain a mystery.

Why would Christ prefer this? Is not Christ’s very intent to have the gospel preached across the entire created order? Why not cause such miracles at such a rate that the evidence would be undeniable. Why not turn every believer into an angel with extraordinary power upon conversion? And cannot God make this so clear while maintaining our free will?

I think He likes this because it makes Himself searchable. He wants His people to find Him, not just yield to His power.

Is this worth it? The pain included in making Himself searchable? God seems to think so. The pain included in making Himself hidden is the cost of love.

Anyone I’ve truly loved – that agape love Jesus lived out – required a search in the hidden places of what is really going on in their heart. An understanding of the true reality of their situation in life. A sort of spiritual humbling that requires going into the trenches and pains of one’s life and hunkering down with them, under the barrage of mortars crashing down around them.

What is the appeal of marriage except that someone not only knows you but loves you too. They know you the most and love you the best. We are all hiding ourselves so we can be found. We are all keeping our secrets close and hoping that someone pulls us offstage and comes home with us, where the bed isn’t made and the garbage still needs to be taken out.

Am I saying that God is hiding secrets? Yes! God is hiding so we can enjoy the search of loving Him, the ongoing discovery of His Life; the hide and seek and find of Life Abundant.

Imagine the alternative. God decides to make Himself immediately visible in front of you. That’s not going to work out very well. You’d probably die immediately, which wouldn’t be good. And also, you’d be utterly terrified. If you loved Him at that point, it really wouldn’t be love, would it? It would be fear masquerading as love, which is no real love after all.

I think I’m starting to get it. All of that searching for that kinder world and all of those empty prayers and all of that hiding that God does is intentional. It’s an intended feature God developed into life, not a bug. Maybe all that resistance and negativity I feel around God is a call to something deeper, not a “do not trespass” sign. Those little phrases, those little encouragements, those small glimpses of it are reality. They are the language of God, His preferred, organic manner of speaking. We know God is talking to us, don’t we? Those supernatural moments happen in the most natural moments, when I’m washing my one plate.

It wasn’t always one plate, but that’s a story for the next chapter. Her chapter. She taught me a whole book, but we’ll see if we can condense it into a chapter.

Yeah… We’ll see if we can do that…

Welcome to Between You and Me. It’s called that because I ask that we keep this between us two. A lot of these things are quite personal, y’know? Wouldn’t want these things floating around on the internet where Christians can whip my words with the Bible, would we?

But it’s also called Between You and Me because there is a lot between me and God. There’s a lot between God and me and all of us, isn’t there? This book is an attempt to name those things so they can be healed. One chapter at a time.

Waylon Woody is a writer and minister living in West Milford, NJ.

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Stepping Stones of Transformation

An Unfolding Manuscript

by

C. D. Baker

Chapter Twenty: A Paradox of God, a Cow, and an Elf

Most of us are wired with a great need for resolution. We are discomforted when confused; we are disturbed by incoherence.

Without the support of our logic we feel lost, even threatened.

However, a great deal of life is not that manageable. We are sometimes confronted by experiences that feel contradictory. But if we let our eyes blur a little and experience things with humility, it may just be that the apparent contradiction is actually a paradox—a tension in reality that points to a level of meaning beyond our mere logic.

Paradox can be troubling.

It has the power to undo things.

And can be a blessing, well-disguised.

Journal Entry: Christmas 2022

I was dressed in my elf suit on a bitterly cold Pennsylvania Christmas night. The house was full of happy guests enjoying a roaring hearth. Carols were spinning on the old turntable and the kitchen island looked very much like a sugar paradise. Laughter, banter, candles, and a beautiful reading of the Luke 2 story made for a Hallmark special.

A distant bellowing somehow caught my ear, and I glanced downhill to spot one of the cows in my pasture in apparent distress under moonlight. I threw on my coat and hurried to find the herd circled around her with a 2000 lb bull gently leaning his massive head against her back as she wailed. A series of vets were called but no one answered. A couple of us rolled the poor cow over and helplessly watched her continue to bloat. We covered her with a canvas tarp.

The bull and his herd gradually faded into the darkness. My guests shivered uphill to the warmth of the house. I stayed alone with the desperate animal, leaning my hands on her and praying for God to be merciful. But all I heard was silence...except for the groaning cow and her six-week-old calf starting to ball.

There we were: God, a suffering cow, and me in an elf suit.

The hours passed and I felt a sickening sadness for the animal’s increased suffering. I also felt anger toward God who claims to keep his eye on sparrows. Where was his attention tonight?

But hadn’t he been so present in kindness and gentle mercy at my son’s hospital bedside just months before? I grit my teeth.

I looked up at the warm house where the hope of Christmas was being celebrated. I then looked deeply into the bloodshot eyes of the suffering cow. She cried out again as if pleading with me to save her. The juxtaposition of the two scenes was disorienting, even incoherent. I was confused.

It then hit me that this paradox is our reality and the thought made me anxious.

I tried pressing compassion into the cow with my hands, speaking to her the best I could. But what do you say to a dying cow?

Frozen to the bone, I reluctantly climbed back up the hill to thaw out. There was nothing I could do but hope for something good to happen. The whole thing felt like a tragic satire, a morality play mocking the claims of Christmas with a writhing cow and her lonely calf.

Uneasy, I soon hurried back downhill and found her dead. I choked and shook my head. The little calf stood over her and my eyes filled. Please don’t tell me she was only a cow. For me she was the entire creation, groaning.

Anyone with a heartbeat should weep for the world from time to time.

Still in my ridiculous elf suit, I trudged back to my guests. I wheezed through the night air, realizing that this scene really was a microcosm of reality; it was a representation of the disconcerting mystery of a world simultaneously filled with hope and suffering, light and darkness, joy and grief.

I hate being born on this battlefield. I can’t comprehend it. I can’t fix it.

Over the next days I wondered—even hoped—that maybe my hands had been used by God to offer comfort to the cow—that I was his way of showing mercy. Maybe. I’d like to think that, but it feels a little bit like I’m trying to get God off the hook.

But whose hook?

I know the answer and it shames me.

It’s taken a week of reflection to see more in this. The fact is that the poor cow blessed me that night. Because of her, I experienced my intellectual impotency. Her suffering against the backdrop of Christmas delivered a stinging reminder from the starry sky: “David, you will never be able to grasp the mystery of this present age. Can you handle that?”

Handle that? I hate that.

Yet, accepting the truth of my limitations is a strange kind of relief. It is an important invitation to stop striving after that which is not mine to have. Stripped of any shred of control, I was liberated to collapse in that place where our only comfort is the divine gift of trusting that something more is going on—that this is not the end of anyone’s story.

I’m still processing all of this, and I thank that cow. The experience with my son had taught me that God really is present and good. This night reminded this stubborn man that I have no resources of my own that can contain the world.

The sad paradox of Christmas lights and dark dying made me listen, differently. And in the days that followed I have heard this: “David, you are my beloved son, and you belong to me. That’s all you’ll ever need to know.”

I am still meditating on that truth. And I’m comforted in watching the orphaned calf romping in the pasture alongside the new mother that has welcomed her.

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I love asking God the big questions. I’ve learned he isn’t afraid of them; in fact, he invites them.

So, pretty often I hit him with, “God, what’s the point of all this? Why are we all here again?” And this is the most recent answer he gave me:

“My goal is that all of my kids come home and awaken to Christ in them, to perfect peace, perfect trust, perfect innocence.”

God’s goal is to heal people. You can trace this all the way back to his original intent to create the world for a wonderful, perfect, and beautiful garden of Eden. The word “Eden” in the Hebrew means delight.

He created us for perfect fellowship with him and one another.

And then God promised to Abraham that the whole world would be blessed through his family.

There has always been this desire from God that all his kids would be fully healed, fully well, and fully secure in his love.

On a practical level, what does this look like? It looks like humans who are healthy, humans who know God, humans who know they are God’s children and who live and act like it.

The Sermon on the Mount actually gives the blueprint of what this looks like. Not being anxious for the things of this world, praying for blessing over those who wrong you, having no lust in your eyes, no resentment in your heart. Bringing peace to people and situations. Being meek and merciful. There’s a lot more. Read Matthew 5-7. And read it through a lens of: this is my inheritance as God’s child.

The goal of the Father is for his kids to come home to him and walk in their freedom, joy, purity, and holiness.

To go from depression and heaviness to joy and praise.

To go from anxiety and worry to peace and stability.

To go from addiction to porn and drugs to freedom and satisfaction in the Spirit of God. To go from isolation and selfishness to a generous giving of yourself to those around you.

The Father uses so many things to accomplish this goal. He uses books to teach people. He uses music to awaken their hearts to him. Most of all he uses everyday people to encourage others toward Jesus.

It’s the kind greeting of a co-worker.

The warm hug of a family member.

The empowering words of a mom or grandma.

The joy of a father or uncle.

The teaching of scripture from a pastor.

The instagram video that reminds you Jesus is good.

It’s a never-ending plethora of things that the Father uses to accomplish his goal.

The local church is the community of people in your area who are awakened to God and living in the reality of being God’s kids. And they live like it. They pray, they worship, they love, they honor Scripture, and point to the redemption that’s in Christ.

God especially uses the local church community to strengthen one another. It could look like church services, small groups, worship gatherings, prayer gatherings, or Bible studies. It’s just people gathering with some small amount of intentionality to experience Jesus together.

Oftentimes it’s simply friendship and the art of simple conversation with one another that God uses to heal and strengthen hearts.

The Father will reach his goal. With us or without us. But he definitely enjoys our participation with him.

Here are some practical ways to participate:

Be a friend to other people. Don’t wait for them to be your friend. Be their friend. Be the one who reaches out.

Pray for people. Keep the prayers simple, empowering, and filled with blessing and promise. Don’t overcomplicate it. Prayers like, “Father thank you for your daughter (fill-in-the-blank). Thank you that she is fearfully and wonderfully made. Thank you that you have purpose for her life. Father continue to bless her and her family in every way. Thank you that you will complete the work you began in her. Father thank you that she is covered by the blood of Jesus from her head to her toe. Allow her to continue to walk in confidence, joy, and purpose. To be a light to those around her. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Encourage people. Listen to them. Listen to the hard stuff. Let them know they’re not alone. We fight our battles together through prayer and believing together, persevering and enduring hardship. Trusting that God will get us through and will have the final say.

Point people to Jesus. Send them a text. Have them over the house. Meet up with them at the coffee shop.

Lead a small group. Go through books of the Bible together or go through a curriculum together. Be involved in the lives of children. Be an example to them. Play and have fun with them.

Father, thank you that you are good. Thank you that you truly want all people to come home to you. To awaken to the reality of being your kids. To live in the blessing of being loved by you. To live in freedom from addiction and all wrongdoing. To live healthy, happy, and free.

To experience the joy of knowing you. The joy of trusting you and being your kid. Thank you Father for your heart. Thank you Jesus for washing us in the water and in your blood, and making us new. Restoring our innocence and purity. Holy Spirit, continue to have your way in us. Continue to teach us what it means to be God’s kids. To love like him. To be like him. To be holy like him. God we love you. In Jesus’ name, amen.

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A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;

from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—

the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,

the Spirit of counsel and of might,

the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord.

Isaiah 11:1–2 (NIV)

Our Inheritance in the Spirit

We have been talking about our inheritance as God’s children. It is the Father’s pleasure to give us the kingdom—to give us his Spirit flowing within us. Jesus taught this plainly. The Seven Spirits of God are a biblical picture of the fullness of the Spirit: the many-sided beauty of who God is and what he does flowing through his people.

These are not merely attributes we admire from a distance. They are dimensions of God’s own life shared with us as his image-bearers. Wisdom is meant to flow through the branch of your life. Understanding is meant to shape the way you see people and the world. And now we come to another pair: Counsel and Might.

Counsel and Might Flowing Together

The Spirit of Counsel can be understood as divine direction while the Spirit of Might is divine power. The two always belong together. Before we go further, though, we need to remember something essential: all of this flows through rest.The Spirit rested upon Jesus, and the life of the Spirit flows most clearly through hearts that learn to abide rather than strive.

Counsel is simply guidance. Direction. The good wisdom of God applied to life. Might is power—divine strength, God’s ability released into human weakness. Whenever someone acts on God’s counsel, power is released. If the Spirit prompts you to pray for someone and you step out and do it, power is released. Sometimes the counsel seems small or even strange. Sometimes it feels completely outside the box. But when heaven’s direction is obeyed, heaven’s strength accompanies it.

Stepping Into Obedience Releases Power

I remember a moment once when I felt prompted to step out and dance during worship. It sounds small, almost foolish. Yet in that act of obedience there was a release of freedom and joy that affected others around me. Several others testified about the shift in the atmosphere that came during worship. It was a clear example for me of counsel and might were working together.

Another time, I felt the Lord directing me to give away a certain amount of money. It stretched me and felt rather risky. Yet I followed through in faith, and within a few weeks Kelly received a new job opportunity that nearly tripled her income. There was power released in following God’s counsel toward generosity.

This is why listening for the Lord becomes addictive in the best possible way. Once you begin seeing what happens when you lean into his voice, you want more. You begin paying attention to dreams, nudges, impressions, scriptures that suddenly light up, recurring themes, small promptings in prayer. I often write things down in the notes app on my phone first thing in the morning. But I have also learned something important: it is easy to collect words from God without ever stepping into them.

Power is released when we move.

Leaning Into the Word

Sometimes a prophetic word simply calls us to trust and wait. But many times there are small steps we can take even before the full picture appears.

For example, if you receive a word about starting a school, perhaps you cannot yet see the building, the finances, or the people. But you can begin writing curriculum. You can begin praying over neighborhoods. You can begin researching property. You can lean into the word.

If you believe God has called you to preach, perhaps you begin by leading a small group. If you sense a burden for the hurting, perhaps you volunteer somewhere before the larger vision unfolds. As we step into the little counsel we have, more often comes.

And it is important to understand this: God will frequently counsel you toward things that are impossible. Heal the sick. Forgive your enemies. Start something you cannot afford. Love someone difficult. Step into a dream larger than your current strength.

That is why counsel always needs might. The counsel of God leads us beyond our natural ability so that the power of God can meet us there.

Wonderful Counselor and Mighty God

This is who Jesus himself is. Two chapters before Isaiah’s vision of the Seven Spirits, another prophecy is given: “For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us; and the government will rest on His shoulders; and His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God.”

Notice how those names stand together. Wonderful Counselor. Mighty God. He possesses both the direction and the power necessary to accomplish the will of heaven. He is not merely a strategist who lacks strength, nor raw power without wisdom. In him, counsel and might exist in perfect union.

I have seen this personally in moments of prayer ministry. There have been times during teaching or worship when I suddenly sensed pain in a particular area of someone’s body—a right knee, lower back pain, something specific. And as that word was shared, healing came. First came counsel: the prompting of the Spirit. Then came might: the release of God’s power.

The Friendly Counsel of God

One of the most beautiful descriptions of this reality comes from the book of Job. We often think of Job only through the lens of suffering, but the season of his trial was actually a relatively small portion of a long and extraordinarily blessed life. Reflecting on those years, Job says something remarkable: “…the friendly counsel of God over my tent” (Job 29:4 NKJV).

What a phrase—the friendly counsel of God! Job understood God as a friend. Not a distant ruler reluctantly tolerating him, but a companion who lovingly guided his life. A good friend wants your flourishing. A good friend gives advice because they care about your future. Even difficult counsel, when it comes from love, is meant for your good. The guidance of God always leads toward life.

When Counsel Shapes History

Sometimes that guidance stretches us. Sometimes it dismantles our pride or redirects our plans. But even difficult counsel, if followed, ultimately leads into blessing because it flows from the heart of a loving Father.

Proverbs says, “If you solicit good advice, then your plans will succeed. So don’t charge into battle without wisdom, for wars are won by skillful strategy” (Proverbs 20:18 TPT). The word translated strategy there can also be understood as counsel. Battles are won by counsel.

David understood this deeply. He consistently sought the strategy of heaven before going into battle. And nowhere is this more dramatically illustrated than during one of the darkest seasons of his life. His own son, Absalom, rose up against him. There may be few pains greater than watching your own child attempt to destroy everything you have built. Absalom not only sought David’s throne; he threatened the entire covenant line through which the Messiah would one day come.

During this crisis, David had two primary counselors. One was Ahithophel, a man renowned for astonishingly accurate counsel. Scripture presents his advice as so precise that it seemed almost as though one were consulting the very word of God. When people followed Ahithophel’s counsel, victories happened. Power followed his guidance.

The other counselor was Hushai, who remained loyal to David. Hushai pretended to side with Absalom in order to disrupt Ahithophel’s strategy. When Ahithophel advised Absalom to attack David immediately while he and his men were weary and vulnerable, Hushai intervened. He persuaded Absalom to wait, arguing that David was too dangerous to attack hastily. It was intentionally bad advice. And because Absalom listened to the wrong counsel, David survived.

History itself turned on which counsel was obeyed. Had Absalom followed Ahithophel’s plan, David’s kingdom likely would have ended that very night. Solomon may never have lived to reign. The messianic line would have been threatened. The future of the world hinged upon counsel. Humanity is always living under competing voices, competing wisdoms, competing visions of reality. Following God’s counsel truly matters.

The Friendly Path of Blessing

Job later described his life as though his paths were washed with butter—an image of ease, favor, and overflowing blessing. Why? Because the counsel of God rested upon him. This is part of our inheritance too.

God is your friend.

He is not withholding wisdom from you.

Through Christ, heaven itself has been opened to you. He delights in guiding your life. And when his counsel is obeyed, power follows.

Planning, Execution, and the Body

There is another layer here worth noticing. Counsel and might relate to planning and execution. Some people naturally carry vision, strategy, and direction. Others excel at building, implementing, and carrying things into reality. The Spirit distributes gifts across the body in beautiful diversity because we are meant to need one another.

Some are especially prophetic in their wiring. They discern direction from heaven. Others carry apostolic strength to establish, build, and execute. The prophetic often operates strongly through counsel. The apostolic often operates strongly through might. One hears the strategy. The other helps bring it into tangible expression. And both are needed.

The church desperately needs the fullness of these gifts functioning together again—not competing, not isolated, but integrated through love.

Love as the Highest Aim

But there is still a deeper layer beneath all of this. As we have seen throughout this journey into the Seven Spirits, these are not isolated virtues. Together they form a way of life—a spiraling path of righteousness that ultimately reveals Jesus himself.

Previously we explored wisdom and understanding. Wisdom answers the question: What is life supposed to look like? And the answer is love, perfectly embodied in Christ. Understanding answers the question: Why do we live this way? Because we begin seeing people as God sees them. We recognize their value, dignity, and beauty.

Now counsel answers another question: How do we actually live this out? Counsel is love in action. What does love look like in practice? How do we embody heaven on earth? This is where everything comes together.

Job—the same man who spoke of the friendly counsel of God—described his life this way: “Because I delivered the poor who cried for help, and the orphan who had no helper… I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. I was a father to the needy…” (Job 29:12–16).

How beautiful is that? This is wisdom made tangible. Love is not merely a concept. Counsel gives love form. It shows us how to embody the heart of God in real situations, among real people, with real needs.

Yes, God cares about guiding your work, your finances, your ministry, your family. He delights in helping you succeed. But beneath all of those things lies the deeper purpose of life itself.

You do not need a prophetic word to know the highest wisdom. The Word has already revealed it. The counsel of heaven is to care for widows and orphans. To become family for the lonely. To defend the vulnerable. To strengthen the weak. To love people extravagantly. This is the counsel of God.

Christ the Wisdom and Power of God

And this brings us back to Paul’s declaration in Corinthians: “We preach Christ crucified… Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:23–24). Christ crucified is the wisdom of God. The cross reveals what ultimate wisdom truly is: self-giving love.

But Paul also says Christ crucified is the power of God. That changes everything.

The world defines power through control, influence, intimidation, money, titles, and dominance. It celebrates the ability to bend others to your will. But heaven does not call that power. Much of what the world calls power is actually fear masquerading in false armor. True power is revealed in the crucified Christ.

The greatest display of might in history was not Rome flexing its military strength. It was Jesus laying down his life in love. Counsel and might are therefore inseparable. Counsel is love embodied. Might is heaven released through that love. Whenever someone lays down their life in obedience to God’s love, true power appears.

This is why Paul urged believers to pursue spiritual gifts, yet insisted above all else that love remain the aim. The gifts are important. Prophecy is too. Revelation, miracles…all vital. But they are not the destination. Love is.

Why do you want success? Why do you seek guidance? Why do you want influence, provision, wisdom, or breakthrough? Hopefully it is not because of a need for comfort, status, or security. Hopefully, it’s because you want to become a blessing. Because you want your life to radiate light. Because you want people to encounter the heart of God through the way you live.

That is the fruit of true counsel and might.

Family, Love, and the Spirit’s Direction

God is your friend. He wants to guide you. He wants you to step out courageously into the words and promptings he gives you. He wants miracles, provision, and breakthrough to flow through your life. But all of it centers on love.

At the deepest level, the Spirit of Counsel and Might is about the family of God learning to care for one another—especially those who feel abandoned, forgotten, lonely, weak, or unsupported. God is a Father. And the Spirit is leading his children to love like family.

That is where counsel leads. And that is where true might is found.

From here, the journey moves toward the final two Spirits: the Spirit of Knowledge and the Fear of the Lord.

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Springtime glory to you and yours! 💐 💦

May this collection of revelatory writings strengthen your inner-life this month. Revelation is spiritual oxygen. It expands the heart and releases a life-giving infusion of wonder and trust (i.e. worship & faith).

In this issue, Nick begins a new series called The Song of the Universe, unraveling mysteries from creation that give witness to the greatest Story ever told . . . He also explores the riches of Wisdom, Understanding, and Rest in the next parts of The Seven Spirits of God (a written version of the series being preached at The Almond Branch). We also continue our walk along the healing paths of C. David Baker’s Walking Stick Journal—even as Dylan drops some fun insights with “Jesus and Rock ‘N’ Roll.”

Enjoy...

Featuring:

The Song of the Universe: Sonship and the Stars

Jesus is Rock ‘N’ Roll

New Installments of:

The Walking Stick Journal: Being Human

The Seven Spirits of God (Part 3 & Part 4)

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This series will not be about hidden codes in the stars or secret meanings buried in nature. Rather, it explores how creation itself functions as a parable, an echo of the same story Scripture proclaims from beginning to end.

In this first entry, I share a trail of what felt like divine breadcrumbs that led me to a remarkable region of space—the Carina Nebula—where I discovered imagery that reflected the Gospel in surprising ways.

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The Sower in the Stars

Genesis opens with a curious statement about the “lights” in the heavens:

“Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens… and let them be for signs.” —Genesis 1:14

From the beginning, Scripture suggests the stars are not merely decorative. They shine physically upon the earth, and they also shine symbolically. Throughout the Bible, light represents revelation, which is why we find the heavens are actually participating in telling the story of God.

Now, this is not about astrology or hidden codes. To put it simply, creation functions as a parable. The universe is singing a song . . . and the song carries the most incredible message you could ever take into your ears (and eyes) . . .

A number of years ago I felt impressed to open a book I’d been gifted called Far Out. It’s one of those massive coffee table books filled with pictures of the universe. I happened to open to a photograph of towering pillars of gas within the Carina Nebula. Here, the authors pointed out something remarkable: if you zoom into one part of this nebula (see above), you’ll find a shape that resembles a sower scattering seed.

This immediately called to mind Jesus’ parable:

“Listen to this! Behold, the sower went out to sow…” —Mark 4:3

In this case, however, the seed was not grain. It was stars.

Seeing that image stirred something deeper in me. I went to Genesis 1 which describes a pattern in creation: things are formed after their kind. Living things, in particular, carry seed within themselves. Trees bear fruit containing seed. Creatures multiply according to their nature.

But before the creation of plants or animals, God created the stars.

Modern astronomy tells us something astonishing: stars carry “seed” as well. When they die, stars scatter the material from which future stars—and even planets—are formed. In a very real sense, stars multiply after their kind.

Creation itself follows the pattern of the Sower.

From Star-Stuff to God-Stuff

The astronomer Carl Sagan famously said:

“We are made of star-stuff.”

There is truth in this observation. The elements in our bodies were forged in ancient stars; however, Scripture tells a deeper story. Humanity is not merely made from stars. We are made from something—or Someone—far greater.

We see this in the progression of Genesis 1. Creation itself moves from stars, to seeds, to living creatures, to humanity. Each stage reveals a multiplication after its own kind.

But the greatest Mystery comes when God says,

“Let Us make man in Our image.”

Just as fruit carries the seed of the tree that bore it, humanity carries the life of the One who formed us. Creation reaches its climax in this ultimate reproduction: God himself birthing something after his own kind.

The Bright Star at the Center

With this, I became infused with wonder over the fact that the stars might be heralding this exact message to humanity—which was strengthened as I read further on regarding Carina . . .

At the heart of this nebula, there lies a remarkable star system called Eta Carinae. This is one of the most massive and luminous stellar systems visible from Earth. Being one of the brightest stars that God’s kids can look up and behold, you might imagine there is something important that it’s “heralding.”

First, eta means seven. It is catalogued as the seventh star in the Carina constellation. I could go into the connection between the number seven, the seventh day of creation, and the finished work of Christ—but I’ll hold off for the moment. Right now, I want to focus more on why this star is so bright.

Scientists have discovered that what originally appeared to be a single star is actually two stars orbiting each other—a binary system whose radiating light shapes the dramatic pillars in the surrounding nebula. This is what is causing us to see images such as the sower scattering seed.

Upon discovering this, I saw a living parable written in the heavens. These two stars orbiting each other reflects God’s design of relationship. Within that, it speaks of the original and eternal Relationship from which everything else came. The two stars circling one another speak of the Father and Son eternally giving and receiving each other’s love. The Holy Spirit is the Light of that Love. The Spirit is the warmth in which the Father and Son bask, and it is this warmth that shines out and births other things around it.

Thus, we find a picture of the Trinity as they sow life into the universe.

The Seed That Must Die

As I continued pondering what I was seeing in Far Out, I decided turn my Bible from Genesis 1 to 1 Corinthians 15. I was looking for Paul’s statement about how stars differ in glory from one another. When I got there, I noticed something I never saw before, in the verse immediately preceding Paul’s words about stars:

“What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.” —1 Corinthians 15:36

In this passage, Paul moves seamlessly from seeds to stars! After already meditating on the connection between seeds and stars in Genesis, I was blown away by seeing a parallel in Corinthians.

Creation truly shares a pattern from the highest heavens to the soil under our feet. A pattern that shows seeds dying and multiplying.

And this is truly the Gospel, a reality written into the fabric of the cosmos. This is what the finished work of Christ is all about. Jesus’s death and resurrection was about restoring our original identity as image-bearers.

Now, to reiterate our earlier disclaimer, this doesn’t mean we’re making a doctrine through telescopes. Rather, we’re discovering doctrine echoed in creation’s light. This is the illuminating poetry of the Gospel sending out its message for those with eyes to see.

The Key in the Nebula

The next thing I discovered was that within the Carina Nebula also lies a formation known as the Keyhole Nebula.

Think of it. God designed both the spectrum of light and the highly complex human eye that can take it in perfectly. Unlike any other created being, humans have the unique ability to see images in the heavens and make symbolic connections. With that mind, consider that humankind has discovered an image of a keyhole found in the middle of this already-prophetic stellar nursery.

A seed-bed of stars surrounding the shape of a key.

Jesus talked about “the keys of the kingdom.” The universe itself seems to whisper the same truth.

There is a key that unlocks the meaning of creation.

That key is Christ and his Gospel—i.e. what happened through his finished work on the cross.

Discovering this key unlocks our understanding into the very “theme” behind creation’s story.

And it is also a musical key. It helps tune us to the song of creation as well.

After Their Kind

So, let’s return to Genesis 1 and this repeated phrase scattered throughout the text: “. . . after their kind.”

Plants after their kind, creatures after their kind, any living beings after their kind. And then comes the human race, where God declares that they are “made in Our image.”

This is what the light is pointing us to. This is the key to understanding what our lives are really all about.

The heavens are inviting us to lift our heads, not only to gaze at the beauty of colorful nebulae, but to lift our awareness of who we are. We are not some complicated computer in a skin-suit designed to look and act like our Programmer. There are hints of that in our design, but the truth is so much more wondrous.

In reality, we are children who we are born from God in the way a new star emerges from a dead one, or a plant comes from a geminating seed. We are the very life of God. As Jesus is the eternal Son of God, humanity can likened to the daughter of God, a precious child fashioned in the same image as our Elder Brother.

If you read ahead in Genesis, this message comes out plainly when we see how humans go on to multiply themselves:

“Adam fathered a son in his own likeness.” —Genesis 5:3

This is the same terminology used for God making Adam. It helps us see what image really means. It’s about children who share the very life of the parent.

All of this illuminates(!) the meaning of Christ’s coming and his work on the cross. This Gospel story is not only about the glorious and generous gift of forgiveness (though that is a central need for the human heart). Jesus’s coming is about the redemption of divine sonship/daughterhood.

And creation itself has been pointing toward this from the beginning! The stars are shining with its message. They are a singing its song over us . . .

With that, we’ll go next to the Star of Bethlehem, an actual cosmic event that pointed the way toward everything we’re attempting to describe here.

Until then . . .

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Stepping Stones of Transformation

An Unfolding Manuscript

by

C. D. Baker

Chapter Nineteen: Being Human

We humans are made in the image of God; we are even united to him. Yet God also intended our earthly limitations through a purposeful design that even Jesus experienced.

How we relate to that design often defines the quality of our lives. Can we accept vulnerability? Are we ashamed of weakness? Do we strive to be superhuman? Do we recognize need? What of dependency?

Do we deny or do we embrace our humanity?

Do we even know what it means to be human?

The answers make a difference.

***

Summer-Fall 2022

I laugh out loud. What Bill says is so painfully true that I don’t know what else to do. “Well, you’re right...I really don’t know how to be human!”

Bill is also smiling. He folds his hands and then gets serious. “Unfortunately, you have a habit of rejecting your humanity. Actually, you cage it.”

I get that.

Bill crosses his ankles in front of himself, waiting.

Taking a long breath, I say, “If I were allowed to just be myself, it feels like I’d be rejected.”

“That’s a tragic comment.”

I wait.

“Did you ever wonder if God expects nothing from us beyond our humanness?”

His question intrigues me.

“God made you human and does not ask for more than that...or less.” He pauses. “I’m guessing you love it when your sons feel free to be who they are.”

“That’s true. I can see it in them. I hear it in their laughter.” I reflect for a moment. “But what does it mean to be human, anyway?”

Bill closes his eyes for a moment to think that through. “Your inner self has a strong sense of that. Trust what you’re feeling when worn out, or inadequate, or vulnerable. Also when you’re selfless and good, truthful and bold. That’s your humanness...”

“Well, my inner voice demands that I eliminate the limiting parts...”

“It’s demanding you to be something that you just cannot be.” Bill leans forward. “We’ve talked about that voice.”

“But it’s good to excel, to improve.” I click my pen. “Of course, guilt then comes into all of this. It feels like a sin to be less than perfect. After all, Jesus said...”

“We’re not talking about excelling. Or sin. We’re talking about you denying your true humanity...like expecting yourself to never fail, to not need help, or not need comfort...”

I grunt. “Like I’ve said before, I have no gauge for normal.”

Bill nods and draws a breath. “Isn’t Jesus the ultimate example of true humanity? He grew tired and frustrated in the midst of his strength and goodness. He experienced terrible dread as he anticipated the cross even with the knowledge of his resurrection.” His face tightens. “Do you think you are superior to Jesus?”

I feel my brows rise. What? “Of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Last week I was really nervous while waiting for blood test results. Ridiculous. So, no, I’m not better than Jesus.”

“I see. So why were you afraid?”

Sniffing a quick breath, I answered, “I had no control.”

“And you think you should have control.”

Here we go. “I guess so...” I hear my voice fall away.

“And so you think it was ridiculous to feel anxious about a blood test.”

I nod.

Bill sits back. “It’s not. Most people feel at least a little nervous, sometimes more. It’s human.”

“I hate the feeling.”

Bill scratches his jaw. “Like it or not, every human feels fear. But you deny yourself that part of your humanity.”

I shift in my seat.

“You try to eliminate the fear by trying to control the situation. You can’t. Instead, why not just share your fear with another...like Jesus did in his Gethsemane prayer.”

I wait.

“The answer to fear is comfort, not control. You—none of us—have control...but we are offered comfort.” Bill lets that settle.

I look at my notepad, unsure of what that looks like...or feels like.

“To be human includes needing others,” Bill says. “But someone told you that you were expected to be above that. You were supposed to be beyond vulnerability and even beyond need.”

He draws a deep breath. “I’ve said before that vulnerability is the human reality and it’s what helps us experience love. In the midst of it, we receive comfort from others and they from us.”

My chest feels suddenly tight and I blurt out, “Death is the ultimate vulnerability and I already feel ashamed of it. It will be my biggest failure...I have no control and it terrifies me.” Hearing myself say that troubles me. Some Christian I am.

Bill answers in a soft voice. “To be human is to die. There is no shame in it.” He uncrosses his ankles. “All of us fear death to some degree or another.” He pauses. “Give yourself some room to get used to all of this. Acknowledge that you struggle with fear and trust, and that there are very real reasons.”

I exhale.

“All this neurotic stuff sits in wait. That’s also part of our being human. We never eliminate all of those tendencies but we can begin to change them by first noticing them.”

For some reason I recall a moment on my rock. I had realized then that my reality is in the world of touch and grief and fear and laughter and loss and limitations. Maybe these are all things that help us experience our humanness. I’ve somehow tried to look past all of this as if I’m expected to exist outside of it all...

Bill summons my attention. “David, your humanity has been in place all along. It’s that abusive voice that’s been interfering.” He leans forward. “What if you turned toward a different voice?”

(Find earlier installments of The Walking Stick here)

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A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;

from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—

the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,

the Spirit of counsel and of might,

the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord.

—Isaiah 11:1–2 (NIV)

Moving Forward in Wisdom

God is calling us upward into the life of His Spirit. Scripture gives this beautiful picture of the sevenfold Spirit resting upon Christ, and now resting upon us in union with Him.

We’re not shifting our focus on the Spirit of Wisdom and Understanding, the first pair that branches outward from the Spirit of the Lord Himself. All throughout the Bible there are extravagant promises connected to wisdom. Promises of blessing, stability, joy, favor, and fruitfulness. They are not quiet promises. They are bold guarantees, repeated over and over again, as if God wants us to be absolutely convinced that wisdom changes everything.

The Doorway Is Rest

Before we go any further, I want to remind us of what we discovered in the last part. The doorway into the flow of the seven Spirits of God is rest. It is abiding in His love. It is remembering our union with Christ and living from that place instead of trying to earn what has already been given. Wisdom and understanding begin there. They do not begin with effort.

They begin with communion.

Proverbs tells us plainly:

“For the Lord gives wisdom;

from His mouth come knowledge and understanding.”

—Proverbs 2:6

Wisdom is not something you climb your way into. It is given. It is a gift from a good Father who delights in His kids. James even says that God gives wisdom generously—not to the deserving, but to those who ask. That means the starting place is not qualification; it’s relationship.

But James also says we must ask in faith. Another word for faith is trust. And trust is what allows us to rest in Him. When we know who we are in Christ, the atmosphere of our hearts becomes clear and open, and we begin receiving what He has already been speaking over us.

If I don’t trust someone—even if they are wise—I won’t receive what they are offering. Trust is the foundation of relationship. In the same way, learning to trust God opens us to the wisdom He is already giving.

Scripture paints this beautiful picture in the story of Esther, when the king says, “Up to half my kingdom—it’s yours!” That is the posture of God toward us. Those who know they are treasured approach the throne with boldness. They do not hesitate. They do not shrink back.

So everything we are about to explore rests on this foundation: wisdom and understanding are gifts accessed through trust.

Wisdom Revealed in the Cross

Wisdom and understanding are paired together like branches extending from the same place. Wisdom answers the question what. It shows us what life looks like when it reflects heaven. Understanding answers the question why. It reveals the heart behind that wisdom and gives power to walk it out.

Scripture ultimately presents wisdom as a person. Wisdom is Christ. More specifically, wisdom is revealed most clearly in the cross of Christ, because true wisdom looks like love. The wisdom of the world is usually defined by intellect, argument, strategy, or technical skill. But the wisdom of heaven is first revealed in self-giving love, and the cross stands as the clearest image of that love the world has ever seen.

The cross is like the essential oil of love. Many of us are familiar with peppermint in everyday forms—gum, toothpaste, or mints—but pure peppermint oil is something entirely different. It is concentrated. It is intense. A single drop fills the air. It is the distilled essence of the plant.

In the same way, the cross is the distilled essence of love. It is what love looks like when everything unnecessary is stripped away and only its pure form remains.

At the cross, the darkest act in history became the backdrop for the brightest revelation of mercy. Innocence itself was crushed, yet forgiveness flowed outward from that moment with unstoppable power. When Jesus entered suffering with compassion instead of retaliation, heaven’s wisdom was revealed in its clearest form.

This is why wisdom corresponds to the color red in the imagery we discussed earlier—the color of His blood.

The Vision of the Red Throne

The apostle John witnessed this firsthand. He stood at the cross and saw the Messiah lifted up, covered in blood. Later in life, John was given another vision—the vision we now call the book of Revelation. In that vision he saw the throne of God, and the One seated upon the throne appeared like a sardius stone.

A deep red stone.

Then John was shown the Lion of the tribe of Judah, but when he looked he did not see a lion. He saw a Lamb standing in the center of the throne—a slain Lamb.

The Father appeared like a red stone. The Son appeared as a slain Lamb. The throne itself was marked by the imagery of sacrifice. The Father and the Son are one, and together they reveal that God is love at His very foundation.

John saw wisdom.

He saw what love looks like at its source.

Understanding: The Power Behind Love

Jesus embodied this wisdom not only at the cross but throughout His entire life. He came as a servant. He laid down His rights. He lived in constant union with the Father and constant compassion toward people. Scripture even tells us that those who walk in this wisdom now will be entrusted with greater responsibility in the age to come when the Kingdom is fully revealed. That promise alone shows how valuable wisdom truly is.

Understanding is paired with wisdom because it reveals the reason behind love. Jesus did not love people out of obligation or religious duty. He loved because He understood their value in the eyes of the Father. When you truly see someone’s worth, love becomes natural instead of forced.

The apostle Paul said he was compelled by the love of Christ. That word compelled means he felt carried along by something stronger than his own will. Love became the force moving his life forward.

When wisdom and understanding work together like this, selfishness begins to lose its grip. It becomes difficult to act against love when you can see clearly.

The Gentleness of Wisdom

James writes about this connection between wisdom and understanding in a powerful way:

“Who among you is wise and understanding? Let him show it by his good behavior, by deeds done in the gentleness of wisdom.”

—James 3:13

James is not saying we earn wisdom by behaving better. He is saying wisdom reveals itself through a transformed life. He even calls it “the gentleness of wisdom,” which sounds exactly like the character of Jesus.

Then James contrasts heavenly wisdom with earthly wisdom. If jealousy, selfish ambition, or bitterness are present in our hearts, he says that is not wisdom from above. That kind of thinking leads to disorder. It leads to confusion. It leads to relational breakdown.

But wisdom from above is pure, peace-loving, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy, steady, and sincere.

Understanding Brings Reconciliation

Understanding plays a special role in relationships because is one of the primary ways division enters our lives. Learning to seek understanding instead of trying to win arguments changes everything.

In counseling—especially marriage counseling—one of the first lessons people learn is to shift their goal from winning the conversation to understanding the person. When someone makes that shift, they discover a treasure most people never find. Much of the conflict people experience comes not from disagreement itself, but from the pain of feeling unseen or unheard.

Seeking understanding takes practice. At first it can feel uncomfortable, even vulnerable. But over time it becomes natural.

Seeing Beneath the Surface

Understanding looks beyond the behavior to the heart behind it.

Sometimes someone’s frustration is really fear. Sometimes anger is covering insecurity. Sometimes harsh words are coming from old wounds that were never healed. When we begin to see this, compassion grows naturally.

Even when someone intentionally hurts us, Jesus gives us the clearest example of what understanding looks like:

“Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

That is wisdom.

That is understanding.

He saw deeper than their actions. He saw their blindness.

When we begin seeing people this way, something changes inside us. We stop reacting the same way. We stop getting pulled into the same patterns. Instead, we begin carrying peace into situations that once produced conflict.

Understanding protects your heart while enlarging it at the same time.

Receiving Wisdom Through Others

Sometimes growing in wisdom and understanding includes receiving help from others. God often places His gifts inside people, and a single insight from someone who carries understanding can unlock something in your life that changes everything. In that sense, wise counselors can function like eye doctors for the heart—they help us see clearly again.

There are also many helpful resources that teach these principles in practical ways. Learning to walk in honor and understanding reshapes how we relate to family, friends, coworkers, and even strangers.

Returning to Rest

But I want to return again to where we started. Wisdom and understanding flow from rest. They are already present in your union with Christ. As you commune with Him, what is already yours begins to emerge more clearly in your life.

So let’s pray.

Father, we acknowledge that Christ is the Truth of who we are. Teach us to live from union with Him. Release a fresh expression of wisdom and understanding in our lives so that Your love becomes visible through us in every relationship and every circumstance. Amen.

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A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;

from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—

the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,

the Spirit of counsel and of might,

the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord.

—Isaiah 11:1–2 (NIV)

Returning to the Treasure Chamber

Before continuing this treasure hunt, it is worth pausing to regain our bearings. It had been several weeks since the previous message in this series, and the response afterward confirmed something I sensed even while speaking: there is a hidden chamber of spiritual riches contained within this vision of the Seven Spirits of God. Whenever Scripture begins to open like that—when patterns start appearing across passages separated by centuries—it is usually a sign that the Lord is inviting us to look more closely.

In the earlier message, which I called The Way of Life, we discovered that the Seven Spirits of God are not simply a list of spiritual attributes that believers are meant to cultivate. Rather, they describe the very pathway of divine life itself. They reveal the inner movement of Christ’s own life as it flows toward us and through us.

We began with the Spirit of wisdom, which shows us what life actually looks like when it reflects the heart of God. Wisdom is not primarily cleverness or strategy; it is the shape of self-giving love. Christ crucified is the wisdom of God, and in that sense wisdom is the first color in the spectrum of divine light breaking into the world.

From wisdom we moved into understanding, which awakens us to why this way of life is both necessary and beautiful. Understanding allows us to perceive the goodness of wisdom from within rather than merely observing it from the outside.

Then comes counsel, which reveals how this wisdom becomes practical within the ordinary decisions of life. The Spirit of might follows, supplying the resurrection power required to actually live what counsel reveals. Wisdom may show us the way, but it is might that enables us to walk in it.

As these realities begin to mature within a person, they give rise to knowledge—not information about God, but a lived and relational knowing of Him. Truth moves from doctrine into experience. God is no longer simply someone we believe in; He becomes someone we know.

From this intimacy emerges the fear of the Lord, the final Spirit named in Isaiah’s list. This is not fear in the sense of anxiety or distance, but awe, wonder, and surrendered reverence before the beauty of who God truly is. Yet even here the movement does not end. Like the rainbow itself, which forms a circle rather than a straight line, the fear of the Lord becomes the doorway into a deeper wisdom. We return again to the self-giving love revealed in Christ, but now with a greater clarity than before.

The sevenfold Spirit of God is therefore not merely a structure of spiritual virtues; it is the rhythm of divine life itself. It is the movement of wisdom, power, intimacy, and worship that exists eternally within the Trinity, and into which humanity has been invited.

A Lampstand Community

One question naturally follows from this: what happens when an entire community begins to live within this rhythm?

When the sevenfold Spirit becomes the shared atmosphere of a people rather than the private experience of individuals, something remarkable begins to emerge. The community itself becomes a living lampstand. The church begins to burn together with the fire of the Spirit in a way that reflects the fullness of Christ more clearly than any single believer could express alone.

It is not surprising that different aspects of the Seven Spirits often correspond to different expressions of ministry within the body of Christ. Wisdom, understanding, and counsel frequently appear in pastoral care and spiritual direction. The Spirit of might is often visible through healing, deliverance, and miracles. The Spirit of knowledge is closely connected with prophetic insight and teaching, while the fear of the Lord finds its natural expression in worship and prayer. Yet the goal is not specialization alone; it is harmony. The dream is to see entire communities shining with the fullness of the Spirit so that every branch participates in the light.

This is how the church becomes a true witness to the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

The Center Pipe: The Spirit of the Lord

If this is the vision, the next question becomes deeply practical: how do we actually enter into this flow?

Isaiah begins with a statement that at first glance seems almost too simple to carry such weight:

The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him.

The key word here is rest. The movement of the Spirit described in Isaiah does not begin with effort, strategy, or discipline. It begins with rest.

Our calling is not to force our way into wisdom or power or intimacy. It is to enter into the rest in which the Spirit already dwells.

During a recent visit to Jerusalem, I stood near the great menorah positioned outside the Knesset, Israel’s national parliament. The placement of that lampstand is striking. At the visible center of Israel’s political authority stands a symbol pointing toward another kind of authority altogether—the authority of the Spirit resting upon a human life. For those familiar with the imagery of the almond branch in Scripture, the meaning is difficult to miss. The menorah represents the Seven Spirits of God burning upon the Messiah, yet the New Testament also tells us that the lampstands represent the churches themselves. The life that rests upon Christ is meant to flow through His people.

In this sense, the church participates in a hidden form of governance in the world. Like Esther standing before the king, the people of God influence history through love and intercession in ways that are often invisible but deeply real.

Zechariah’s Vision of Overflow

The prophet Zechariah was later given a vision of a lampstand that differed in one important respect from the design given to Moses. In the tabernacle menorah each lamp had to be lit individually by the priest. In Zechariah’s vision, however, the branches were hollow and connected to a central source so that oil flowed naturally from the center outward into the six surrounding lamps.

The center received the oil first, and the branches received the overflow.

Because oil throughout Scripture consistently represents the Holy Spirit, the meaning becomes clear. The life of the Spirit flows first into the Messiah and then outward into those who are joined to Him.

The question that remains is how we participate in that overflow. Once again the answer leads us back to the same word Isaiah used: rest.

The Pattern of the Seventh Day

The Hebrew word translated rest in Isaiah appears again in the account of creation:

For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth… and rested the seventh day.

—Exodus 20:11

The pattern is difficult to ignore. Just as the menorah contains six branches connected to a central stem, creation itself unfolds across six days and culminates in a seventh day of rest.

Adam was created on the sixth day. This means that his first full day of existence was not a day of labor but a day of participation in God’s rest. His introduction to life itself began with enjoyment rather than effort. Before he was ever asked to cultivate the garden, he was invited to receive it.

This is not a small detail in the story of creation. It reveals something essential about the structure of human life as God intended it to be lived.

Abiding in the Vine

Jesus later spoke directly into this same mystery when He said,

I am the vine, you are the branches… apart from Me you can do nothing.

—John 15:5

For many believers, this passage becomes a turning point. I remember encountering it early in my own life with Christ and recognizing immediately that it contained something central. Throughout church history, some of the most perceptive voices in the spiritual tradition have returned again and again to this invitation to abide. There is a reason for that. Jesus was not offering advice here; He was describing the secret of spiritual life itself.

If His followers learn to remain in Him, everything else follows. His courage becomes their courage. His wisdom becomes their wisdom. His love begins to flow through their relationships. The same pattern appears again: Isaiah speaks of rest, Exodus reveals the Sabbath, Zechariah describes the flowing oil, and Jesus calls His disciples to abide.

When a person begins to recognize this pattern and shape life around it, something unusual begins to happen. Grace begins to flow in ways that cannot easily be explained by effort alone. Favor appears where striving once dominated. From the outside it can almost look as though something unfair is taking place.

In one sense, that impression is not entirely wrong.

You are cheating death.

You are cheating fear.

You are cheating sorrow.

You are learning to live from the life of Christ rather than from your own strength.

Wisdom Before Creation

Still, the question remains: what does abiding actually look like in practice?

To answer that question Scripture takes us somewhere unexpected—not only to Genesis, but to a place even earlier than Genesis.

In Proverbs 8 wisdom suddenly begins speaking as a person. At first the book of Proverbs describes wisdom as guidance for living well, but then something shifts. Wisdom begins to describe events that took place before the foundations of the earth were laid. As she speaks, we begin to recognize language that echoes Isaiah’s description of the sevenfold Spirit.

Wisdom says,

Counsel is mine… I am understanding… I have strength.

Within only a few verses we encounter wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, and the fear of the Lord gathered together in one voice. The pattern of the seven Spirits appears again, but this time it appears within a conversation that reaches back into eternity itself.

Then comes the remarkable statement:

By me kings reign.

This language reminds us once again that the sevenfold Spirit is connected with authority. Those who learn to live within this flow begin to participate in the hidden governance of God’s purposes in the world.

The House with Seven Pillars

The next chapter continues the same imagery:

Wisdom has built her house;

she has hewn out her seven pillars.

—Proverbs 9:1

Here the sevenfold pattern appears again, this time as a house supported by seven pillars into which Wisdom invites us to enter. Immediately afterward she prepares a table and extends an invitation:

Come, eat of my bread

and drink of the wine I have mixed.

It is difficult to miss what this imagery suggests. The entrance into the house of Wisdom is not achieved through effort but through participation at a table. Bread and wine appear once again as the means by which the life of God is received rather than produced.

The Secret of Sabbath Trust

When Moses established the Sabbath commandment, he did not forbid activity altogether. What he forbade was the kind of labor that arises from anxiety about provision. The Sabbath was meant to remind Israel that their lives were sustained not by their own effort but by the faithfulness of God.

Rest, in this sense, is another name for trust. And trust is another name for abiding.

It is significant that one of the central activities permitted on the Sabbath was shared meals. Even today the Shabbat meal remains one of the defining features of Jewish life. Families gather around a table not simply to eat but to remember that life itself is received as a gift.

When Jesus invited His disciples to abide in Him, He did so during a Passover meal—a Shabbat meal centered around bread and wine. Communion was not incidental to His teaching about abiding. It was the setting in which that teaching was given.

Receiving the Delight of the Father

Later in Proverbs 8 the mystery reaches its most beautiful expression:

Then I was beside Him as a master craftsman;

and I was daily His delight…

and my delight was with the sons of men.

Before creation began, the Father, Son, and Spirit delighted in one another. Yet within that eternal delight there was already a place prepared for humanity.

This same delight appears again at the Jordan River when Jesus is baptized and the Father declares,

You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased.

Then, only a short time later, Jesus speaks words that bring this entire pattern to its climax:

As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you. Abide in My love.

—John 15:9

This is the secret hidden within the pattern of rest. The overflow of the Spirit becomes accessible not through effort but through trust in the astonishing truth that the Father loves us with the very love He has always given His Son.

We are not invited to earn this love. We are invited to rest in it.

The bread is ready. The wine is mixed. Whatever barriers we imagine still exist between ourselves and God have already been removed in Christ. The oil of the Spirit is not something withheld from us until we prove ourselves worthy. It is something already given, waiting only to be received.

We learn to recognize its movement within us as we learn to rest in the delight of the Father.

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…keep scrolling…

keep going…

…almost there.

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Rock ‘n’ roll was birthed out of a combination of blues, gospel, and country. Diversity coming together to birth a sound. A sound of freedom.

Jesus was birthed out of a combination of humanity, Jewish history, and the Father in heaven. Diversity coming together to birth a sound. A sound of freedom.

Rock ‘n’ roll is a victory over the world . . . the world with its rigid rules of law, sin, and death, keeping humanity trapped in a system.

When that guitar is played, an invitation goes out. Come to the party. The party of heaven. The party of hope. The party of victory.

Jesus is rock ‘n’ roll. An unstoppable force. The victory in human form. God in the flesh. Death couldn’t hold him. His song has been played for the whole universe to hear.

Has his music swept you up into cosmic victory?

He leads us in constant and continual triumph. You’re a part of his band, man. In this world you will have trouble, but cheer up, he has overcome the world. And what is the victory that has overcome the world? Our faith.

Keep on rockin ‘n’ rollin.

Sometimes that gathering is two or three around a table. Sometimes it’s a larger community coming together in worship and learning.

But the times are a-changing. The “church” is moving from the pulpit back to the Table.

The Table of Christ is the center of the cosmos . . . and the engine of revival. Our desire is simply to help set the table and watch as the glory of Jesus increases everywhere.

We are seeing new ekklesia gatherings spring up in many places. While nothing replaces meeting together in person, God is also moving powerfully through online connections.

To help pour into this awakening, we offer several opportunities to share communion together online:

Awake | Arise | Advance

Our three-part formation course is designed, in part, to help people begin simple Communion-centered gatherings in their own homes and communities. It’s part of a larger journey rooted in grace, identity, and the finished work of Christ.

Good Fridays

We gather live every Friday at 12:00pm EST for a simple half-hour time of communion, enjoying the presence of Jesus together.

House of Wine (with The Almond Branch)

We also invite you to join the House of Wine gathering hosted by The Almond Branch in West Milford. This two-hour communion and worship gathering is livestreamed Sundays from 9:00–11:00am EST, with replays available afterward.

Zoom 110 Calls

Supporters of Elisha’s Riddle are invited to join our monthly Zoom 110 Calls—an intimate time of communion, prayer, and connection together.

Wherever you are, there is a place for you at the Table.

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Good Fridays is a weekly online communion gathering hosted by Nick Padovani and Dylan DeMarsico (and special guests).

This is not a performance, a sermon, or a production. It is a simple return to the Table. We read Scripture, reflect briefly, pray, and receive communion together — usually in 20–30 minutes.

Why We Call it “Good Fridays”

We call it Good Fridays because every Friday is good in light of the Cross.

We believe the finished work of Christ is not an annual remembrance, but the center of every week, every day, every breath.

The Cross is not merely an event in history; it is the revelation of God’s heart and the redemption of our identity as his beloved kids. We need to drink of this truth regularly.

How to Participate

• Bring bread and something to drink (wine, juice, etc.).

• Find a quiet space if possible.

• Come as you are—no pressure, no performance.

Whether you are in your home, office, car, or watching later, you are welcome at the Table.

What if I Miss it?

If you cannot join live, the replay will remain available on our YouTube channel.

Communion can be received in real time or later — the grace of God is not bound to a clock.

Join Live (or view replays) Here

Join Good Fridays

Every Friday at 12pm EST / 9am Pacific

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Why We Call it “House of Wine”

The phrase “House of Wine” comes from a poetic story in scripture. In the poem, a glad king invites his beloved companion to come to his royal table and enjoy his presence (Song of Songs 2:4). Like the companion in the story, each of us are deeply loved of God and are invited to come and feast at His table.

The House of Wine is a 2-hour worship gathering in the spirit of this poem.

Throughout the time, we “come to the table” through communion, song, prayer, and celebration.

Along with a worship team, there is an emcee who will help guide our time together. This includes moments when people can share things on their hearts, whether a song, a testimony, or something they are sensing God is speaking.

How to Participate

Our preference is always to have you join in-person! But if that’s not possible, you can totally participate online.

• Bring bread and something to drink (wine, juice, etc.).

• Find a quiet space if possible.

• Come as you are—no pressure, no performance.

Whether you are in your home, office, car, or watching later, you are welcome to drink from the table of the Lamb!

Join Live Here (Sundays 9am)

House of Wine (Live)

Or Watch the Replays Anytime

House of Wine (Archive)

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