Ryan's Ramblings

Thorns and Nails

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31, KJV)

The other day, I was talking with a friend who had recently undergone a serious heart procedure. Her doctors were monitoring her for three months to determine whether the treatment had been successful.  She told me the waiting was the hardest part—every little flutter or twinge sent a wave of concern through her. She looked at me and said, “I’m on pins and needles.”

There are moments in life when we wait—when the days stretch on endlessly and uncertainty grips our hearts. We wait for a diagnosis, a job offer—an answer. And in that waiting, we often feel like we’re on pins and needles, fraught with anxiety, held captive by the tension of the unknown.

But it doesn’t have to be like this. Isaiah 40:31 describes a different kind of waiting: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength…”

In the Bible, the Hebrew word for “wait” conveys the image of interwoven strands—like cords twisted and bound together to form something strong and unbreakable. It’s a waiting where our souls are entwined with the Lord’s heart rather than tangled in the worry and fear of the world. It’s an active, expectant waiting that draws us closer to God’s presence and strengthens us with His promises.

Jesus is at the very center of this different kind of waiting. He took on thorns and nails so that you and I wouldn't have to endure pins and needles. He carries us—and the weight of our fears and burdens—so that we might live in peace, no longer captives to anxiety.

Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

(John 14:27, NIV)

He invites us to “wait” upon Him. In Jesus, we soar like eagles, run with strength, and walk without fainting. We are empowered to endure, persevere, and trust, as He is our portion. We trade our pins and needles for His peace—a peace that sustains us in the moment and carries us into the unknown. 

It’s a peace found in waiting—a waiting He secured for us through thorns and nails.

 

 They Really Lived

“Sirs, what do I have to do to be saved—to really live?”

(Acts 16:30, MSG)

One of my favorite movies is Secondhand Lions. It tells the story of two eccentric old uncles, Hub and Garth, who spend their latter days sitting on the porch, shooting at trespassing traveling salesmen, and bemoaning days gone by. In their youth, they fought wars, hunted wild animals, and chased treasure and adventure at every turn. They even battled—and eventually befriended—a rich and powerful sheikh in North Africa.

Their story is told by their nephew, Walter, who grew up living with these two uncles. In the final scene, after his uncles have passed, Walter, now an adult, is approached by another man—the grandson of the very sheikh from his uncles' stories—with a question full of wonder: “So, the two men from my grandfather’s stories, they really lived?”

Walter nods and replies, “Yeah… they really lived.”

It’s a simple statement, but it lingers. “They really lived.” Not just existed, not just survived…but truly, fully…lived.

What does it mean to really live?

This isn’t just an abstract idea—it’s a question as old as time. Two thousand years ago, a Philippian jailer, shaken to his core, asked Paul and Silas the very same thing: “Sirs, what must I do to be saved—to really live?” (Acts 16:30, MSG)

Our world is obsessed with the idea of an extraordinary life. Social media floods us with highlight reels, fueling the fear that we’re missing out on something bigger and better. At first glance, Hub and Garth seem to embody real life. But Scripture tells us otherwise—true life isn’t about chasing adventure—it’s about trust. A deep, full, soul-satisfying life comes from trusting Jesus, the One who is the way, the truth and the life.

Paul and Silas didn’t tell the jailer to do more or try harder. Their answer was simple: "Put your entire trust in the Master Jesus. Then you’ll live as you were meant to live." (Acts 16:31, MSG)

To really live isn’t about a constant search for meaning, always chasing something just out of reach, or writing the wildest, most adventurous story with your life—it’s about trusting in the One who wrote life itself. It’s about walking with Jesus, knowing Him, and letting His presence fill your days with purpose.

So stop striving for life where it cannot be found. Trust Jesus. Abide in Him.

And really live.

 

Can God Trust You?

Because of the miraculous signs Jesus did in Jerusalem at the Passover celebration, many began to trust in him. But Jesus didn’t trust them, because he knew all about people. No one needed to tell him about human nature, for he knew what was in each person’s heart.

(John 2:23-25, NLT)

I served for eight years as an administrator at an International Christian School in South Korea. It was a place deeply rooted in missional heritage and dedicated to providing educational excellence to students in Asia. My family and I had been at the school for three years when something unexpected happened.

One day, I was called into the Head of School's office, and to my surprise, he offered me the job of Assistant Head of School—the number two position in the organization. I was humbled and deeply honored. It was an incredible opportunity. I had administrative experience, but that wasn’t why I was offered the job. It wasn’t about skills or qualifications—he said it was about trust. The Head of School chose me because he trusted me to steward and champion the school’s mission and vision with integrity.

Trust is an immense gift, not to be taken lightly. We see this in Jesus' encounter with the people in Jerusalem. Many trusted in Him after witnessing the miracles He performed, yet the passage tells us that Jesus did not trust them. Why? Because He knew the human heart—He understood the fleeting nature of surface-level faith. He knew that while people might be drawn to signs and wonders, their hearts were not fully surrendered to the deeper purpose of His mission.

This raises a challenging question: Can God trust you and me? It’s one thing to trust God for what He can do for us, but have we considered the trust He places in us? God’s Word shows that trust is built not in moments of glory, but in daily decisions to follow Him with all our hearts. His trust is realized in us through the precious gift of the Holy Spirit, empowering us to fulfill His purposes. He trusts us as we abide in Him through surrender and holy living.

2 Timothy 2:21 says, "If you keep yourself pure, you will be a special utensil for honorable use. Your life will be clean, and you will be ready for the Master to use you for every good work." (NLT)

We can’t earn our salvation, but we can position ourselves to be trusted and used by God for every good work. Lean into Jesus, His holiness, and His mission, and you may be surprised with the incredible opportunities He provides—trusting you with more than you ever imagined.

 

Scrolling Through Life

"Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like."

(James 1:23-24, NIV)

Scrolling is no longer just something we do on our phones and computers—it has become a way of life. We live in an age of distraction. Social media, news, entertainment, and endless notifications pull us in a thousand directions, causing us to skim through everything—important moments, key relationships, engagement with God, and ultimately… life itself.

E. Stanley Jones wisely observed,

"What gets your attention, gets you."

And therein lies the danger of a scrolling heart and life. What is getting our time, our thoughts, our attention, and… our worship? Distraction isn’t just a focus problem. It’s a worship problem. True worship isn't realized in rituals or religious practices—it’s about where we direct our devotion, commitment, and energy. It’s about the things that capture our eyes, our minds, and our hearts.

Eugene Peterson once noted that without worship, we live "manipulated and manipulating lives"—at the mercy of every advertisement, every seduction, every siren. We become vulnerable to whatever demands our attention next, reacting to the world’s noise instead of resting in God’s voice. Distracted, we forget God… and who we are in Him.

James warns us about treating Scripture the same way we treat our news feeds—glancing at it, then moving on unchanged. God’s Word is meant to shape us, not just be another post to scroll through. A mirror shows us who we are, but it only helps if we remember and respond to what we see. God’s Word is the same. It reveals our identity in Christ—but if we don’t pause to let it shape us, we remain unchanged.

Our thoughts shape who we become. If we allow our hearts and minds to be ruled by distractions, we will conform to the chaos around us. But if we fix our minds on Jesus—meditating on His Word instead of scrolling past it—we will be transformed (Rom. 12:2).

When it comes to attention, the question isn’t “What are you looking at?”—it’s “What are you worshiping?” Stop scrolling through life and fix your eyes on the One who is Life, the One worthy of all our attention—Jesus.

 

Sour Milk

“You cannot keep your milk sweet and yet let anything into your dairy; one dirty germ can sour an entire milking.” — J.H. Jowett

Blessed is the man

    who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,

nor stands in the way of sinners,

    nor sits in the seat of scoffers… (Psalm 1:1, ESV)

As a kid, I loved helping my grandad milk his 35 cows on his small farm. He used a vacuum system to pump the milk from the udders into stainless steel buckets, and then he vigilantly strained and filtered the milk into tall, heavy milk cans. Once full, we hammered the lids onto the cans and set them in an icy bath, ready for early morning pickup by the milk hauler.

Each week, my grandad received a check from the milk company—his reward for delivering pure milk. But occasionally, a rejection letter arrived instead. Inside was a stained piece of filter—proof that the milk he provided that week had been contaminated. Whether it was a dead fly, barn dirt, or something unseen, the result was the same: the entire day’s milking—all 35 cows’ worth—was rejected. One impurity ruined it all.

Just as a speck of dirt can spoil an entire milking, a trace of sin can sour our soul. Psalm 1:1 reveals the deadly decline—it starts small—listening to the wrong voices. Worldly counsel may seem good, but it’s not always godly, leading us down a path of doubt, selfishness, and sin. And before long, we’re seated with the scoffers—cynical, critical, and dismissive—and that small trace of sin ultimately taints our entire life.

It’s been said, “Sow a thought, reap an action; sow an action, reap a habit; sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.” The slow souring of the soul begins with a single thought, a small compromise, an unchecked influence, and over time, these choices harden into habits that ultimately shape who we become. We don’t wake up one morning dirty and distant from God—it happens gradually—one unfiltered moment at a time.

So what happens when impurities show up? The good news is that while soured milk must be discarded, a soiled soul can be restored—through Jesus, His cross, and the power of His precious blood. In 1 John 1:9, we’re given this promise: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (ESV).

Are you vigilantly filtering your mind and guarding your heart against subtle contamination? Be sure to look to Jesus! The blessed life is not about perfection—it’s about being pure and holy in Him. 

 

A Tale of Two Rivers

When a dirty river and a clean river come together, the result is—dirty river. — William Stafford

There I saw a stream flowing east from beneath the door of the Temple … The waters of this stream will make the salty waters of the Dead Sea fresh and pure. … Life will flourish wherever this water flows. (Ezekiel 47:1, 8-9 NLT)

In this tale of two rivers, Stafford speaks a hard truth. We’re up to our necks in murky water. Life in this world, where negativity is the norm and decay is the default, is hard. The pollution of global conflict, never-ending news, relentless fear, and the sludge of social media swirl around us, and the result is—dirty river

But God’s river is different. Ezekiel speaks of the Truth—a river that doesn’t become tainted, but transforms. Flowing from His Holy Temple, it touches the barren, the lifeless, the polluted, and makes them new. God’s river grows deeper, stronger, and purer as it flows, bringing healing, restoration, and life. When the stream from the Temple meets the Dead Sea, the result is—clean river.

This river of life isn’t just a vision—it’s a reality—and His name is Jesus. “Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them” (John 7:38, NIV). When we look to and follow Christ, His Spirit flows in us and through us, and it doesn't just cleanse—it transforms. No matter how "murky" things may be, His water saves, sanctifies, and gives life.

In this tale of two rivers—dirty or clean—where do you find yourself?

In the midst of hard truth or… the Truth?

Paradise is Coming

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.”

(Joshua 1:9, NIV)

I recently started a new job, and I love it. But I’ve learned over time that no matter how good a situation seems, it won’t be perfect. Every job, relationship, or circumstance comes with its own set of obstacles. Why? Because we live in a broken world.

As Christians, we often assume that when we step into God’s will for our lives, everything should be easy. If we’re obeying God, living out our faith, and walking with Jesus, shouldn’t life be smooth sailing?

We need to be careful not to confuse the Promised Land with paradise. 

When we think of the Promised Land, we might picture a place of rest, abundance, and fulfillment. But the biblical reality is different. The Promised Land was, “a land flowing with milk and honey,” but it was also a place of challenge, struggle, and hardship. When the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, they didn’t waltz into paradise—they marched into warfare.

When Joshua and Caleb finally entered the land God had promised, they found giants, walled cities, and enemies who didn’t want them there. The Promised Land wasn’t a retreat—it was a battlefield. And yet, it was where they were meant to be. It was the place God led them—and He promised to go before them, fight for them, and fulfill His purpose in their lives.

Too often, we confuse our calling with comfort. We assume that if God has provided and led us somewhere, the path should be smooth. We wrongly equate the "Promised Land" with paradise, and then we live in doubt, disillusionment, and sorrow when trials arise.

The truth is, paradise isn’t here yet. Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2, KJV). That place is heaven, our eternal home, where every tear will be wiped away. But for now, we are pilgrims in the Promised Land. We walk with God, but still in a broken world. We experience His promises in the midst of wrestling with life’s realities. The Promised Land is where we stand in faith, trusting that He is with us through the difficulties. It’s where we fight the good fight because He has called us to this place and time—and He is with us.

So, if you find yourself facing insurmountable walls, giants in the land, or rivers that seem impossible to cross, take courage. The Promised Land was never meant to be paradise; it’s the place where God grows your faith, strengthens your trust, and uses you for His glory. Press on: look to Jesus, keep walking, keep trusting, and remember… paradise is coming.

 

 

Deadly Nearness

"My Father God, save me from… deadly nearness." – J.H. Jowett

"He came to Jesus at night…" (John 3:2, NIV)

Some ironies are tragic. Nicodemus was so near to Jesus, yet so far from Life. We first meet him at night—a Pharisee, a seeker of truth—meeting Jesus under the cover of darkness. Respectful, earnest… yet hesitant.

In John 7, Nicodemus speaks up for Jesus, defending His right to a fair hearing among the Pharisees, and yet he wavers. Reluctant to take a stand—to go all in.

Then, in John 19, Nicodemus helps prepare Jesus’ body for burial. He draws near, but Jesus is dead. The call to be born again is missed, and the last time we see him, he stands in the tomb of Jesus—silent.

After this moment, Nicodemus is not heard from again in Scripture. His story fades into history, speculation, and unspoken regret. What could have been is hauntingly gone. This is the sound of deadly nearness—a stillness that follows a life lived just outside the fullness of faith.

It’s more than a missed opportunity; it’s a choice—a failure to embrace the life that Jesus offers. The truth and presence of Christ are right in front of us, but we hold back, preferring our misery over His mystery. All that remains is a silent void—a deadly nearness.

Some ironies are truly tragic.

Dear Jesus, save me from deadly nearness. May I not linger in the shadows, hesitating at the threshold of Your love and grace. Help me lean fully into You, embracing the Life and transformation that You offer. Teach me to live my faith boldly, and walk with You in Spirit and in Truth. Amen.

 

The Perfect Picture

“You’re nothing but a mist, a wisp of fog, catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing.” — James 4:14 (MSG)

As a budding photographer, I’ve learned that fog is elusive—constantly shifting, moving, and vanishing. You have to act fast to capture the shot because with fog, it’s there one moment, and gone the next. But when the light and mist align, something extraordinary happens—a brief moment of breathtaking beauty—the perfect picture.

I think that’s what James had in mind when he spoke about our lives—we are all a mist—brief, beautiful, and then gone. Psalm 39:5 reminds us, “Everyone is but a breath, even those who seem secure” (NIV). Rich or poor, powerful or weak, young or old, no one outruns time. Left to ourselves, our days slip by—unremarkable. But in the Lord, our lives can take on lasting beauty.

Jesus is, “the light of the world” (John 8:12, NIV). He is the “bright morning star,” and when the mist of our lives reflects His light we become more than a passing vapor. We embody a radiance and beauty that transcends time. 

Light gives life. A stained-glass window without light is just darkened glass—its beauty unseen, its purpose unfulfilled. But when light floods through it, the colors glow, and its true design is revealed. In the same way, a life without Jesus is like mist in the dark—formless and unseen. But when His Spirit shines through us—even for a moment—we glisten with beauty.

The light of Jesus takes our ordinary moments and fills them with His glory. A song becomes more than just music, a sermon more than just words, and an act of kindness more than just a good deed. A whispered prayer, a cup of cold water given in His name, a word spoken in love—each one, touched by His light, carries a glory that outlasts us.

We’re not perfect, and no matter how hard we try, we cannot create lasting glory for ourselves. But we can reflect the glory of Jesus, the One who lasts forever. So let His love illuminate the mist that is your life. When you do, you become—in that moment—the perfect picture of His breathtaking beauty.

 

“Hangry” or Worse?

Michal, Saul’s daughter, was barren the rest of her life.

                                        (2 Samuel 6:23, MSG)

The night should have been special. My wife, daughters, and sons-in-law were all gathered around the table—a rare moment when our busy lives aligned, giving us the chance to laugh, talk, and simply enjoy being together. But I missed the moment.

I was physically present—seated among them—but my heart was elsewhere. My mind was consumed with irritation, criticism, and frustration. The restaurant was busy, the service slow,  the waiter inattentive… and I was fuming. (I wish I could say I was just “hangry,” but I wasn’t.)

Instead of partaking in the joy and beauty all around the table, I quenched it. My family felt the weight of my spirit, and my attitude affected them. My negativity left me empty, lifeless, and barren. I let my frustration dictate my presence, and in doing so, I missed out on the fun, beauty, blessing, and love—the real feast—that was happening all around me.

A fretting, distracted, and critical heart results in an empty, barren life.

Michal, the wife of King David, knew something of this. She was right in the midst of the presence of God, watching as the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem. But instead of celebrating, she sat in judgment. As David danced before the Lord, Michal watched from a distance, her heart hardened with contempt. She could have joined the celebration, but instead, she missed the moment—consumed with irritation, criticism, frustration, and pride.

The result? Barrenness—not just physical, but spiritual. She missed the joy of God’s presence and the life-giving, fruit-bearing abundance that comes from a surrendered heart. She was near the things of God (sitting right at the table), but she missed out on the fun, beauty, blessing, and love happening all around her.

There’s no shortage of things in our world—and in our lives—that stir criticism, irritation, or frustration. The Enemy works tirelessly to distract us, causing us to miss the blessing even when we're right in the middle of it. We can sit at the table and never taste the goodness set before us. Surrounded by worship, fellowship, and God’s Spirit, we quench it, stuck in our distractions. And in the end, we walk away empty, lifeless, and barren.

But there is a way back, and His name is Jesus.

We must turn away from the many distractions of the Enemy and “fix our eyes on Jesus.” He is the one who said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, NIV)

Are you “hangry” or worse? Is your spirit barren? Lean into the abundant life that is Jesus. Enter into the celebration. Don’t miss the feast. Be present. Be life-giving. “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8, NIV)