Food For Thought – Pastor Clegguart Mitchell

You Need God Today

Christian, if you are not reading God’s Word each day in order to commune with God, then you are not living the Christian life from day to day.

This is not a call to religious box-checking.

Reading the Bible every day does not earn favor with God. The issue is much more fundamental than that.

The Christian life is a life lived in fellowship with God.

Jesus told His disciples:

“Abide in me, and I in you.” – John 15.4

And just a few verses later:

“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you…” – John 15.7

Christianity is not merely believing the right things about God and then going about our lives. We have been brought into a relationship with Him. We are called to walk with Him, depend upon Him, listen to Him, trust Him, and increasingly have our lives shaped by Him.

That means Bible reading is about much more than information. You can read three chapters every morning, study difficult passages, know a great deal about the Bible, and still fail to come to the Scriptures to commune with God.

Yes, God has given us His Word. But the goal isn’t simply to get God’s Word into your schedule.

The goal is to get God’s Word into you.

To hear what God has said. To have your thinking corrected, your desires exposed, your fears confronted, and your priorities reordered. To be reminded again of what is true about God, about yourself, about this world, and about the life He has called you to live.

That is why yesterday isn’t enough.

Yesterday you needed God’s truth. Today you need it again. Yesterday your mind needed to be renewed. Today it does too. Yesterday you needed your heart redirected away from yourself and toward God. You will need that again today.

You cannot live today’s Christian life on yesterday’s communion with God.

This is not about guilt. It is about need.

The God who created you has spoken. The God who saved you has made Himself known. And He has graciously given you His Word so that you might know Him, believe Him, obey Him, delight in Him, and walk with Him.

So, Christian, open your Bible today.

Not merely because Christians are supposed to read their Bibles. Not so you can check another box. Not so you can feel better about yourself.

Open it because you need God today.

Don’t Miss a Day

My phone really doesn’t want me to miss a day.

Apps congratulate us for opening them several days in a row. Games reward us for coming back tomorrow. Fitness and weight-management apps keep track of our consecutive days. Miss one, and the counter may start over.

They’re called streaks, and there is a reason they work. They help form habits. They give us a small sense of accomplishment. And, of course, they keep us coming back to the app. None of that is necessarily bad.

But I wonder if all this streak-building is also training us to think that consistency is the same thing as relationship.

It isn’t. And that matters when we open our Bibles.

A streak can tell you whether you did something. It cannot tell you why you did it – or what happened while you were there.

You can read your Bible every morning. You can complete the assigned chapters. You can check the box. You can watch the number on your Bible app climb from 30 days to 100 days to 365 days. And you can do all of that without really communing with God.

God warned His people through Isaiah:

“This people draw near with their mouth
and honor me with their lips,
while their hearts are far from me.”
– Isaiah 29.13

The problem wasn’t that they were doing nothing religious. They were. The problem was that their outward activity had become disconnected from their hearts.

That danger hasn’t disappeared. We can become very disciplined at doing Christian things without paying much attention to the God those things are supposed to draw us toward.

That doesn’t make habits bad. Discipline matters. There will be mornings when discipline gets you out of bed and into the Word when you don’t particularly feel like doing it. There is something good about developing habits that regularly put us in places where our hearts can be shaped by God’s truth.

But the habit is not the goal.

God is.

Imagine measuring your closest relationships by streaks. Talked to my wife today. Another day completed. Streak intact.

Something about that immediately feels wrong. I don’t want merely to maintain contact with my wife.

I want to know her. Listen to her. Talk with her. Share life with her. A relationship is more than repeated interaction.

When we open the Bible, there is a Person there whom we are seeking to know. God has spoken.

So the question isn’t simply, Did I read my Bible today There are better questions:

Did I listen?

Did I believe what God said?

Did I allow His Word to correct my thinking?

Did I submit myself to what He said?

Did I come to Scripture because I wanted to know Him – or merely because I didn’t want to miss a day?

Don’t confuse consistency with communion.

Keep the habit. Build the discipline. Read your Bible every day. But don’t settle for the streak.

Don’t open your Bible tomorrow merely because you opened it today.

Open it because there is a God you need to know, hear, trust, and walk with.

Grace assumes the best; pride suspects the worst.

Pride is remarkably confident about other people’s motives.

“He did that because…”

“She only said that because…”

“I know what they’re really trying to do…”

But most of the time, we don’t know.

Grace does not ignore sin or pretend that evil is good. But neither does it manufacture motives, presume guilt, or fill gaps in our knowledge with suspicion.

Grace asks before accusing.

Grace leaves room for explanation.

Grace is willing to believe the best that the facts will allow.

And when something truly is wrong, grace grieves rather than delights in having its suspicions confirmed.

Love does not require us to ignore sin.

It does require us to stop inventing it.

“Love… is not resentful… bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” – 1 Corinthians 13.5, 7

But I Had a Reason

We almost always have a reason.

A reason we became angry.
A reason we said what we said.
A reason we weren’t completely honest.
A reason we treated someone poorly.
A reason we refused to forgive.
A reason we did what we knew we probably shouldn’t do.

And sometimes our reasons are pretty good ones.
We were tired.
We were afraid.
We had been hurt.
Someone betrayed us.
We were under tremendous pressure.
We didn’t know what else to do.

The circumstances may be real. The hurt may be real. The pressure may be real.
But having a reason for doing something does not necessarily make what we did right.

There is an important difference between an explanation and a justification.

An explanation answers the question: Why did I do this?

A justification answers a very different question: Was I right to do it?

And those are not the same thing.

Scripture is filled with people who had reasons for what they did. Adam blamed the woman God had given him. Eve pointed to the serpent. Aaron had an explanation for the golden calf.

Saul had a reason for keeping what God had commanded him to destroy. He even made his disobedience sound spiritual. The animals, he explained, had been spared so they could be sacrificed to the Lord.
Samuel’s response was simple: “Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” – 1 Samuel 15.22

Saul had a reason. But his reason didn’t make his disobedience obedience.
And perhaps that is where we sometimes get ourselves into trouble.

We begin to believe that if our circumstances are difficult enough, our hurt deep enough, or our reasoning understandable enough, then what would normally be wrong becomes right. But our circumstances do not have the authority to rewrite what God has said.

That doesn’t mean circumstances don’t matter.

They can help us understand why someone did what they did. They can move us toward compassion. They can help us recognize the pressures, fears, wounds, or desires that contributed to a decision.

But circumstances do not define righteousness. God does. And before we apply that truth to someone else’s choices, we should probably apply it to our own.

I may have been tired.
I may have been frustrated.
I may have been treated unfairly.
I may have been deeply hurt.
I may even have a perfectly understandable reason for what I did. But if God says it was wrong, my reason cannot make it right.

Perhaps that is why one of the most difficult sentences for us to say is also one of the simplest: I was wrong.

No explanation.
No qualification.
No – “but you have to understand.”

Just confession.

And thankfully, Christians do not have to justify what God has already offered to forgive.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” – 1 John 1.9

There may be reasons for what we have done. But God has not asked us to justify our sin. He has invited us to confess it.

Be Still, and Know

It is possible to stop working without actually resting.

You can leave the office while continuing the conversation in your head. You can sit down while mentally working through tomorrow’s list. You can take a day off and spend most of it thinking about everything you aren’t getting done. You can even go on vacation and bring your worries with you.

Sometimes our bodies stop long before our minds do.

Last week I wrote about Jesus telling His disciples, “Come away…and rest a while.” There is something important about recognizing our limits and learning to stop. But stopping and resting are not always the same thing. Sometimes we stop what we are doing only to discover how much we are still carrying.

Perhaps that is one reason these familiar words from Psalm 46 are so important: “Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

Psalm 46 is not describing peaceful circumstances. The earth gives way. Mountains are moved. Waters roar. Nations rage. Kingdoms totter. And right in the middle of all that turmoil, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

In other words, this isn’t simply an invitation to find a quiet place. It is a call to stop striving and remember who is actually in control.

Notice that God doesn’t simply say, “Be still.” He says, “Be still, and know.” Biblical stillness is not merely inactivity. It gives us an opportunity to remember what our anxious activity so easily forgets.

He is God. I am not.

He is sovereign. I am not.

He knows what tomorrow holds. I do not.

He is able to carry what I cannot.

He is at work in places I cannot see, and in circumstances I cannot control.

Sometimes the hardest part of resting isn’t stopping what our hands are doing. It is releasing what our hearts are carrying.

We rehearse conversations that have already happened.

We anticipate problems that haven’t happened.

We imagine outcomes.

We try to solve tomorrow’s difficulties today.

And somewhere along the way, we can begin carrying responsibilities God never actually gave us. That can feel like responsibility. It can even feel productive. But there are things we simply cannot control, no matter how many times we turn them over in our minds.

Jesus asked a wonderfully simple question: “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” – Matthew 6.27

Worry accomplishes remarkably little for all the energy it consumes. Perhaps that is why genuine rest requires more than an empty calendar. It requires trust.

There are burdens we need to put down. There are questions we need to leave unanswered. There are circumstances we need to entrust to God. There are conversations we cannot control. There are outcomes we cannot guarantee. And there are tomorrows we need to leave where God put them – in tomorrow.

None of this means that we stop caring, planning, praying, or acting responsibly. It means that after we have done what God has given us to do, we trust Him with what He has not given us to control.

That may be one of the hardest forms of rest. But it may also be one of the sweetest. “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Sometimes we need to stop long enough to remember who God is.

And sometimes remembering who God is is what finally allows our hearts to rest.

Come Away and Rest Awhile

There is almost always something else that could be done.

Another email could be answered. Another project could be finished. Another room could be cleaned. Another phone call could be made. Another problem could be solved.

And if we aren’t careful, we can begin to live as though stopping is irresponsible.

After all, Scripture has a great deal to say about hard work. God does not commend laziness. We are called to diligence, faithfulness, and making good use of the time He gives us. There is something good about going to bed tired after a day spent doing what God has given us to do.

But apparently faithfulness also includes knowing when to stop.

After a particularly busy season of ministry, Jesus said to His disciples, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” – Mark 6.31

What makes those words especially striking is what Mark tells us next: “For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.” There were people everywhere. There were needs to be met. There was ministry to be done. And Jesus said, Come away and rest. That is worth thinking about.

Sometimes we imagine that rest is what we do when everything else is finished. We will slow down when the project is completed. We will take some time off when things settle down. We will rest when there is nothing pressing that needs our attention.

The problem is that everything is rarely finished. There will always be something more we could do. Which means that if we only permit ourselves to rest when there is nothing left to do, we may never really rest at all.

Perhaps learning to rest is also learning to trust.

There is a kind of humility in stopping. When I stop working, I am reminded that I am not indispensable. I have limits. I get tired. I need sleep. I need quiet. I need time away. God made me that way. And while I rest, God does not.

The psalmist says, “He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121.4). What a comforting distinction. I need rest. God does not.

The world does not depend upon my constant activity. My family does not ultimately depend upon me. My church does not ultimately depend upon me. My work does not ultimately depend upon me. Everything ultimately depends upon Him.

That doesn’t make me less diligent. It frees me to work hard when it is time to work – and to rest without guilt when it is time to rest.

Of course, there are seasons that require unusual effort. There are late nights and early mornings. There are emergencies and deadlines. There are babies who don’t sleep, people who need us, unexpected problems, and responsibilities that cannot simply be postponed.

Sometimes faithfulness really does require us to keep going when we would rather stop. But those seasons should also remind us why rhythms of rest matter.

We were never designed for constant activity. And sometimes our refusal to stop may say less about our diligence than we think. It may reveal how difficult it is for us to believe that things can continue without us.

Rest reminds us that we are creatures – and God is God.

So sometimes the godly thing to do really is to take the afternoon off. To go for a walk. To sit somewhere quiet. To take the vacation. Maybe even to take the nap. Not because our responsibilities don’t matter. Not because diligence is unimportant. But because we trust the One who remains at work when we are not.

Jesus looked at tired disciples surrounded by unfinished ministry and unmet needs and said, “Come away…and rest a while.”

Maybe some of us need to hear Him say that again.

When a Sermon Rubs You the Wrong Way

Have you ever heard a sermon that rubbed you the wrong way?

Maybe something the preacher said bothered you. Maybe you disagreed with the way he said it. Maybe you walked away thinking he was too harsh, too strong, or simply wrong.
I have.

And sometimes, after thinking about it, I have concluded that I really did disagree. Preachers are not infallible. We can misunderstand a passage, say something poorly, or fail to explain something as carefully as we should.

But sometimes the problem was not the sermon. Sometimes the truth had simply gotten too close. And that is much harder to admit.

When a sermon makes us uncomfortable, it is remarkably easy to begin framing our understanding of the sermon around our feelings.
– I felt attacked.
– That sounded unkind.
– I did not like the way he said what he said.

And before long, our reaction to the sermon becomes our interpretation of the sermon.

But feeling uncomfortable does not necessarily mean we have been treated unfairly. Sometimes conviction is uncomfortable. Sometimes correction is uncomfortable. Sometimes the Word of God confronts something in us that we would rather defend than examine.

James writes: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” – James 1.19

We often use those words as general advice for relationships and communication, and rightly so. But James is writing about our response to the Word of God. A few verses later, he tells us to “receive with meekness the implanted word.”

Perhaps we need to learn to listen to expositional preaching with expositional hearing.

That means we do not begin with, “How did that make me feel?”
We begin with:
– What did the preacher actually say?
– What was he trying to communicate?
– What does the text actually say?
– And why did this bother me so much?
We would do well to listen prayerfully before reacting quickly.

That does not mean every preacher is right. It does not mean we accept everything we hear without discernment. We should open our Bibles. We should examine the text. We should test what is taught.

But biblical discernment and personal defensiveness are not the same thing.
One wants to know whether the message is true.
The other wants to prove that my reaction was justified.

How we respond when the Word confronts us may reveal more about our hearts than we realize.
– Pride is quick to speak, quick to defend, and quick to assume the problem lies somewhere else.
– Humility is willing to listen again. Humility opens the Bible. Humility prays, “Lord, show me what is true, even if I do not like what I find.”

The next time a sermon rubs you the wrong way, do not be too quick to dismiss it. Listen to it again. Open your Bible. Pray. And ask whether the truth that unsettled you might be the truth you needed to hear.

The Opposite of Zeal

Most Christians are not destroyed by sudden rebellion.

They drift.

A neglected discipline.
An idle hour.
A comfortable routine.
A growing indifference.

Little by little, zeal cools. Scripture warns us far more often about complacency than persecution.

Comfort has lulled more believers to sleep than opposition ever has.

God made us for purposeful work, disciplined living, and wholehearted devotion.

The battle for faithfulness is often won or lost in ordinary moments – in the small disciplines, daily duties, and unseen choices that shape our lives.

The opposite of zeal is not heresy.

It is indifference.

“Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.” – James 1.22

Take the Step

Many believers spend their lives waiting for perfect certainty before they obey God.

But faith rarely works that way.

Faith acts.

Faith obeys.

Faith moves forward trusting that God will prove Himself faithful along the way.

Will we sometimes stumble?

Of course.

But it is better to take a stumbling step of faith than to remain frozen by fear.

God does not call His people to flawless performance.

He calls them to trusting obedience.

The servant who attempts much for God may occasionally fail.

The servant who attempts nothing never learns the faithfulness of God.

Faith grows when exercised.

So take the step.

Trust the Lord.

And leave the results in His hands.

“Without faith it is impossible to please Him.” – Hebrews 11.6

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision.

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision. It is usually a gradual neglect.

A neglected Bible becomes an occasional Bible.

An occasional prayer becomes a hurried prayer.

A hurried prayer becomes no prayer at all.
Worship becomes optional.

Convictions become preferences.
Sin becomes tolerated.

And before long, a person finds himself farther from God than he ever intended to be.

That is why Hebrews warns: “We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” (Hebrews 2.1)

No sailor drifts toward the harbor. Drift always carries us away from our destination.

The Christian life requires intentionality. Not because God is reluctant to keep His people, but because God uses ordinary means – His Word, prayer, fellowship, worship, and obedience – to keep us close to Himself.

If you feel distant from the Lord today, don’t wait for a dramatic spiritual experience.

Open your Bible.

Pray.

Gather with God’s people.

Take the next step of obedience.

The way back is often found in the simple things we first neglected.