A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:18-20

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The Peacemaker

Dear friend in Christ,

As we settle in together this morning—perhaps with a warm cup in hand and our Bibles open—let’s linger over these astonishing words from the heart of Paul’s letter to the Colossians. Paul is writing to a church being tugged toward ideas that would shrink Jesus down to something less than He is: a useful teacher, one spiritual option among many, or a step on a ladder toward higher knowledge. Against that, he lifts up this soaring declaration of Christ’s absolute supremacy.

And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Colossians 1:18-20, NIV)

These verses sit inside the great Christ hymn of Colossians 1:15-20. Paul has already shown us Jesus as the image of the invisible God and the one through whom and for whom all creation exists. Now he turns to the church and to the cross, showing that the same Christ who is Lord over the cosmos is also the living Head of His people and the one who brings peace where there was hostility.

He is the head of the body, the church.
The church is not a religious organization that happens to honor Jesus; it is His body. He is the source of its life, the one who directs its growth, and the one from whom every member receives what it needs. When we lose connection with the Head, we wither. When we stay joined to Him, the whole body is supplied and held together, growing with a growth that comes from God (see Colossians 2:19). This is deeply comforting: you do not have to invent your own spiritual path or chase after every new voice that promises deeper experience. Your life is found in the Head who already knows you and holds you.

He is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead.
“Beginning” (arche) means both origin and ruler. Jesus is the source of the new creation. And because He is the firstborn from the dead—the first to rise in glory, never to die again—He has opened the way for everyone who belongs to Him. Death does not have the last word. The supremacy Paul speaks of is not abstract; it is personal and future-oriented. In everything—your fears, your future, your final breath—He is first. That is why we can face tomorrow with hope rather than dread.

So that in everything he might have the supremacy.
Paul is not interested in a Jesus who is merely important. He is declaring a Jesus who is preeminent in every realm: creation, the church, and the age to come. Nothing and no one else can share that place. This was the medicine the Colossians needed, and it is the medicine we need when other loyalties quietly compete for the center of our hearts.

For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him.
The Father was not reluctant; He was pleased. The whole fullness of deity dwells in the Son (Colossians 2:9). There is no deficiency in Jesus that must be filled by angels, special knowledge, or human effort. All that God is, He has made known and given to us in Christ. We do not approach a partial Savior. We come to the one in whom the fullness of God was glad to dwell.

And through him to reconcile to himself all things… by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
Here the cosmic scope meets the bloody particularity of the cross. Reconciliation is not a vague spiritual atmosphere; it was purchased at great cost. The blood of His cross is the means by which hostility is ended and peace is made. Paul will go on in the next verses to apply this personally: once you were alienated and hostile in mind, but now He has reconciled you (1:21-22). The same Christ who holds all things together is the one who has brought you near. The peace He made is not fragile. It rests on a finished work.

What warmth there is in these truths, dear ones. You are not left to reconcile yourself to God or to hold your own life together. The Head of the body has already done what you could never do. The firstborn from the dead has already gone before you. The one in whom all fullness dwells has already made peace through His blood. All that remains is to stay joined to Him, to keep giving Him first place, and to rest in the reconciliation He has accomplished.

Reflection Questions

  1. In what area of your life is it hardest right now to give Jesus the place of supremacy—your plans, your fears, your relationships, or something else?
  2. How does knowing that Christ is the living Head of the body change the way you think about your place in the church and your dependence on Him?
  3. Where do you still feel the pull of “not enough”—as though Jesus needs to be supplemented by something else—and how does verse 19 speak to that?
  4. What would it look like this week to live more fully as one who has already been reconciled, resting in the peace made by the blood of the cross rather than trying to earn or maintain it?
  5. Because He is the firstborn from the dead, how does that reality touch a specific grief, fear of death, or uncertainty about the future that you are carrying?

Prayer

Father, thank You that in Your Son all Your fullness was pleased to dwell. Thank You that He is the Head of the church and the firstborn from the dead, so that in everything He has the supremacy. Help us to live as those who have been reconciled by the blood of His cross. Quiet the competing voices that would diminish Him in our hearts, and teach us to find our life, our direction, and our peace in Him alone. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Your fellow sheep.

A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:15-17

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The Image Who Holds All Things Together

Dear friend in Christ,

Let’s settle in together for a few quiet moments—perhaps with a warm cup in hand and your Bible open to Colossians 1. These verses come from the heart of a letter Paul wrote to a young church that was being tugged in different directions. Impressive-sounding ideas and spiritual experiences were quietly trying to edge Jesus out of the center. Into that confusion Paul lifts a clear, expansive vision of who Christ truly is. These are not distant theological statements; they are pastoral words meant to steady ordinary believers who need to know their Lord is bigger than their fears, their questions, and the powers that press in around them. Let these truths wrap around you like a comforting embrace as we walk through them together.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. (Colossians 1:15–17)

Paul begins with a stunning claim: Jesus is the image of the invisible God. He is not a lesser reflection or a helpful approximation. In the Son we see the Father’s nature fully and finally. What God is like—His character, His heart, His glory—is made known in Jesus. We do not have to guess or construct our own picture of God; we look to the One who has already come. The word “firstborn” here does not mean Jesus was the first created being. In the biblical world it often spoke of rank, inheritance, and preeminence. Christ stands before and above all creation as its rightful heir and Lord. He is not part of the created order; He is the One through whom the created order exists. How warming it is to know we are not left to invent a God who fits our preferences. We receive the real One.

Then Paul presses further: “For by him all things were created…” He leaves no category out. The visible world we can touch and the invisible realities we sense but cannot fully see—angels, powers, spiritual authorities—all came into being through Christ and for Christ. Creation is not random, and it is not ultimately about us. It finds its origin, its purpose, and its goal in Him. This was a direct answer to the false teaching in Colossae that treated certain spiritual powers as rivals or intermediaries. Paul says, in effect, they are not rivals; they are creatures. Christ is the Creator. Everything exists because of Him and is oriented toward Him. Beloved, this lifts our eyes. The pressures you feel, the unseen forces that seem to loom large—they are not ultimate. They were made through Him and for Him.

Finally, Paul anchors us in the present: “And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” Christ is not only the beginning of creation; He is its ongoing Sustainer. He is “before” in both time and rank. And right now, in the present tense, all things hold together in Him. The universe does not maintain itself by its own momentum. Your life, the church, the nations, the unseen spiritual realm—none of it is self-sustaining. It coheres because the risen Lord actively upholds it. When life feels like it is coming apart at the seams, this is not sentimental comfort; it is a claim about reality. The same One who spoke creation into being continues to hold it—and you—in His hands.

These verses invite us to rest our weight on a Christ who is not one spiritual option among many, but the One in whom everything finds its place. They also call us to live with a quiet confidence: the Lord who created all things and for whom all things exist is the same Lord who has reconciled us and who even now holds our scattered days together. Let this truth warm your devotion today. Rise in the knowledge that you are held by the Image of the invisible God, the One who is before all things and in whom all things hold together.

Questions for Reflection

  1. Where in your life right now do you most need to remember that Christ is the image of the invisible God—that you do not have to invent or shrink your picture of Him?
  2. How does knowing that all things (including the powers and pressures you feel) were created through Him and for Him change the way you view your circumstances this week?
  3. In what area of your life does it feel like things are coming apart? What would it look like to consciously entrust that area to the One in whom all things hold together?
  4. Are there any “rival” voices, philosophies, or anxieties that have been quietly competing with Christ’s supremacy in your thinking or affections? How might you re-center on Him?
  5. As you go through your ordinary responsibilities today, how can the truth that Christ is before all things and holds all things together shape your posture of trust and worship?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank You for giving us Your Son, the true image of the invisible God. Help us rest in the knowledge that all things were created through Him and for Him, and that in Him all things hold together. When life feels fragmented, remind us that we are held by the One who is before all things. Draw our hearts to worship Him alone. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

May this devotion warm your spirit and draw you closer to our loving Savior.

Your felloe sheep,

A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:12-14

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Giving Thanks for What the Father Has Done

Brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today’s devotion shows us the depth of love our Father has for us. Its truth can sustain us far longer and better than the caffeine in our coffees and teas. Look at these great verses with me and let them warm your heart.

Giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

Colossians 1:12–14 sits inside Paul’s prayer for the Colossian believers. After asking God to fill them with the knowledge of His will and to strengthen them for patient endurance, he turns their hearts toward gratitude. The reason for that gratitude is not vague spiritual feeling; it is the concrete, completed work of the Father in His Son.

“Giving joyful thanks to the Father,” Paul writes, “who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light.” The Father has already made us fit for an inheritance we could never earn. In the ancient world an inheritance belonged to those who were family, not to those who had performed well enough. Our place among the saints in light rests on the Father’s action, not on our record.

That action is described with two decisive verbs: God has delivered us and He has transferred us. He rescued us from the domain of darkness—a real realm of spiritual captivity—and moved us into the kingdom of His beloved Son. This is not a slow process we manage; it is a finished relocation. We once belonged to the old domain; now we belong to the Son the Father loves.

At the center of that new kingdom stands verse 14: “in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” Everything Paul has just said finds its meaning here. Redemption was a word drawn from the marketplace and the slave market. It spoke of a price paid to set a captive free. The debt of sin was not ignored or minimized; it was paid. And the freedom that results is described in the simplest and most personal terms: the forgiveness of sins.

My friends, forgiveness in this verse is not a temporary overlooking of mistakes so that we can try harder tomorrow. It is the full cancellation of the debt that once held us in the domain of darkness. Because the Son paid the price, the Father no longer counts our sins against us. The transfer into the kingdom is possible precisely because the guilt that belonged to the old domain has been removed. We do not enter the kingdom still carrying the charges; we enter because those charges have been settled in Christ.

This is why thanksgiving is the natural response. We are not asked to generate gratitude out of thin air. We are invited to remember that the price has been paid, the debt has been canceled, and the freedom is already ours. Many of us live as though forgiveness is still pending—waiting on one more sincere confession, one more improved week, one more proof that we are truly sorry. Verse 14 tells us the forgiveness is already possessed “in whom.” It is located in Christ, secured by His work, and given to those the Father has transferred into His kingdom.

My dear friends, this truth is meant to steady us. When shame returns, we do not have to rebuild our case before God. When we fail, we do not slide back into the domain of darkness. The redemption and the forgiveness remain where Paul placed them—in the Son. Our calling is to live as people who have already been set free, not as people still trying to purchase their release.

A Prayer

Father, thank You for qualifying us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. Thank You for delivering us from the domain of darkness and transferring us into the kingdom of Your beloved Son. We praise You that in Him we have redemption, the forgiveness of our sins. When we are tempted to live as though the debt is still unpaid, remind us that the price has been fully met in Christ. Help us rest in the freedom You have already given, and teach us to give thanks with our lives. In the name of Your Son we pray. Amen.

Reflection Questions

  1. Where do you still feel as though your forgiveness is incomplete or conditional? How does the finished redemption in verse 14 speak to that feeling?
  2. What would change in the way you carry a recent failure if you truly believed the debt has already been canceled in Christ?
  3. How might remembering that you have been transferred into the kingdom of the Son shape your response to temptation or discouragement this week?
  4. Is there someone who needs to hear that forgiveness is not earned but received through the redemption that is already ours in Christ? How could you share that simply and clearly?

Let these truths wash over you. Remind yourself of them again and again. Live knowing Jesus has paid your debt and obtained forgiveness for you. Live advancing His Kingdom so others are rescued from the domain of darkness.

Your fellow sheep

Training Up Children

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“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” Few verses have been written more lovingly on nursery walls, quoted more often at baby dedications, or carried more quietly in a parent’s heart than Proverbs 22:6.

And few have been more painfully misapplied.

For many Christian parents, the verse has become a kind of spiritual contract: If I do this faithfully, God will guarantee the result. When a son or daughter later walks away from the faith, the verse that once brought comfort can turn into a quiet accusation. Did I fail? Did I not train them well enough? That weight was never meant to rest on this proverb.

A warmer, truer reading begins by putting the verse back where it belongs: in the book of Proverbs, as wisdom—not as a formula.

Wisdom, Not a Warranty

Proverbs is not the same kind of literature as the covenants or the promises of the gospel. It is skill-for-living. It describes the way the world generally works under God’s design. A soft answer often turns away wrath. Diligence often leads to provision. Early formation often leaves a lasting mark. These are observed patterns, not unbreakable laws.

Life is more complicated than any single proverb can capture. Children have their own wills. Hearts are not clay we fully control. Even the Lord Himself, the perfect Father, watched His covenant people wander. Treating Proverbs 22:6 as an ironclad promise of lifelong faithfulness sets parents up for either pride when children thrive or crushing guilt when they do not. Neither is the fruit the Spirit intends.

What the Hebrew Actually Says

The familiar English phrasing—“in the way he should go”—adds a word that is not in the original. The Hebrew is closer to “Train (or dedicate) a youth according to his way.” The verb chanak is used elsewhere for dedicating a house or the temple: to inaugurate something, to set it apart for its intended purpose. The word for “child” (na’ar) can describe a young child, but also a youth or young man still being formed.

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“His way” has been understood in more than one direction. Some see it as a call to notice the unique bent, temperament, and gifts God has given this particular child—not a one-size-fits-all program. Others hear a warning: if you simply let a child follow his own natural, often foolish inclinations, those patterns will harden. Still others hear an encouragement to start a young person on the path of wisdom itself—the fear of the Lord—so that the groove formed early tends to remain.

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All of these readings share a common thread: early, intentional shaping matters. The path a young person is started on tends to become familiar. Habits of the heart, like grooves in a road, are easier to follow than to leave.

That is a gracious observation, not a threat and not a guarantee.

The Heart of the Misapplication

The most common misuse is turning a principle of formation into a test of parental worth. Scripture never makes a child’s adult faith the final report card on a parent. Salvation is the Lord’s work. Children are not projects we complete; they are image-bearers we shepherd for a season and then release into the hands of a God who loves them more than we do.

When we treat the verse as a promise of guaranteed outcome, we can also miss its actual invitation: to dedicate our children. To inaugurate them into a life oriented toward the Lord. To walk with them in the fear of God, according to who they actually are, while they are still being formed. That is holy, hopeful work. It is not a contract that binds God to our performance.

A Kinder Way to Hold the Verse

From a Christian vantage point, Proverbs 22:6 sits comfortably beside Deuteronomy 6 and Ephesians 6:4. We are called to teach diligently, to bring children up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord, to talk of God’s ways in the ordinary moments of life. We model repentance when we fail. We pray. We tell the old, old story. We notice the particular child God has given us instead of forcing them into someone else’s mold.

And then we trust.

The gospel frees us from the need to be perfect parents so that our children might be perfect Christians. Jesus is the One who seeks and saves. The Father of the prodigal still watches the road. The Spirit still opens hearts that look, for a long season, closed.

If your children are walking with the Lord, give thanks—not as proof that you “got it right,” but as grace. If they are far from home, this verse does not stand over you as a verdict. It simply reminds you that the early years were not wasted, that seeds can lie dormant for a long time, and that the God who formed them in the womb has not forgotten them.

Train them. Dedicate them. Love them according to the way God made them. Point them again and again to Christ.

Then rest. The results were never yours to secure. They belong to the One who is both wiser and kinder than any proverb, and who delights to bring wanderers home.

A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:9-12

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Filled With Knowledge

My fellow travelers,

As we continue journeying through Colossians, let today’s passage warm your heart as surely as your morning tea does. We will see today the heart of the Apostle Paul as he prays for fellow believers.

Beloved, there is a kind of prayer that does not hurry. Paul had never walked the streets of Colossae, yet from the day Epaphras told him of their faith and love, he had not ceased to pray for them. And the prayer he prayed is the one we still need. Listen to Paul’s heart as we read the passage.

For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives,so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified youto share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light.

Paul asks that they would be filled with the knowledge of God’s will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding. Not a thin acquaintance with religious ideas, but a knowledge that fills the whole of a person—the kind that comes when the Spirit opens the mind and heart to what the Father actually desires. The verb “filled” carries the sense of being brought to fullness, not merely informed. The knowledge he seeks is epignōsis—a personal, precise acquaintance with what God wants, not a stock of religious facts. Wisdom here is the skill of living under Christ’s lordship; understanding is the quiet ability to see how the pieces of an ordinary day fit together with his purposes. Paul is not asking for them to become clever. He is asking that the Colossians would know God’s mind so thoroughly that their choices begin to look like his.

That knowledge is given for a walk. “so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way”. The Christian life is not a set of moments when we feel spiritual; it is the long habit of ordinary conduct—work, speech, patience with people, the use of money and time—lived at a pitch that fits the One who has called us. Worthy does not mean we earn his smile. It means our steps start to match the gift we have already received. And the marks of that walk are simple and searching: bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. Fruit and knowledge grow on the same branch. Obedience makes the face of God clearer; a clearer sight of God makes obedience more natural and more wide. Fruit and knowledge grow together. Good works are not a substitute for knowing God, nor is knowing God an excuse for barrenness. Each feeds the other. As obedience deepens, the knowledge of God becomes clearer; as the knowledge of God grows, the range of good work expands.

Such a walk needs strength we do not carry in ourselves. So Paul asks that they would be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy. The power is measured by God’s own might, not by our reserves. It is given for the long obedience—endurance when the pressure does not lift, patience when we are wronged and the impulse is to answer in kind—and both are to be carried with joy. Joy is not the absence of weight. It is the atmosphere of people who know the Father has already acted.

And he has. The prayer ends where every true prayer begins: giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. He has made us fit. He has rendered us sufficient for a share we could never have secured. The inheritance is not a prize at the end of a successful life; it is the gift already sealed in Christ, the reason we can give thanks even while we are still learning endurance.

This is the pastoral heart of the passage. God does not leave his people to piece together a worthy life from their own insight or strength. He fills them with the knowledge of his will, he supplies power equal to his own might, and he does both because he has already qualified them for glory. The prayer Paul prayed for the Colossians is the prayer the Spirit still loves to answer.

Take a few quiet minutes with these questions:

Where do you most need to be filled with the knowledge of his will, and what would it mean to ask for spiritual wisdom rather than simply a change in circumstances?

In the ordinary paths of this week, what would a walk fully pleasing to the Lord look like—and where is fruit or a growing knowledge of God currently thin?

What pressure is asking for endurance and patience, and how does the Father’s qualifying work give you reason for joy inside it?

When you give thanks, can you thank him not only for gifts he has placed in your hands, but for the deeper mercy that he has already made you fit to share the inheritance of the saints in light?

Beloved, rejoice that the Lord who has begun a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. Rejoice in knowing you are deeply loved by the Father.

You fellow sheep

A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:6b-8

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Not A Private Possession

My dear friends,

As we sit with our Bibles open in our laps and coffee in our hands, let us be inspired today from Paul’s letter to the church at Colossae. As we read together, recall the people who shared the gospel of Christ with you and give thanks to God for them today.

The gospel that reached Colossae was never a private possession. In the opening thanksgiving of his letter, Paul describes it as a living word already at work far beyond that small city: “as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and increasing—as it also does among you, since the day you heard it and understood the grace of God in truth, just as you learned it from Epaphras our beloved fellow servant. He is a faithful minister of Christ on your behalf and has made known to us your love in the Spirit” (Colossians 1:6b–8).

Paul has just given thanks for the Colossians’ faith in Christ and their love for all the saints, both of which rest on the hope laid up for them in heaven—a hope they first heard in “the word of the truth, the gospel” (1:5). He then pictures that same word as active. The participles “bearing fruit and increasing” are present and continuous. The gospel is not a finished announcement that sits still once delivered; it keeps producing fruit and keeps spreading. Later he will pray that the Colossians themselves bear fruit in every good work and grow in the knowledge of God (1:10). What the message does in the world, it is meant to do in the people who receive it.

The worldwide scope is no vague slogan. From Paul’s vantage the gospel has already moved through the cities of the eastern Mediterranean and beyond, and the same pattern is visible in Colossae. Local faithfulness is not isolated; it belongs to a larger work of God. At the same time, the local is not swallowed by the global. The fruit-bearing happening “in the whole world” is happening “among you.”

That fruit began on a particular day: the day they heard and understood. Hearing alone is not enough. They “understood the grace of God in truth.” Grace here is not a general religious mood; it is the concrete favor of God that meets people in Christ—forgiveness, reconciliation, a share in the inheritance of the saints in light (1:12–14). To understand it “in truth” is to grasp it as it really is, not as a distorted or partial version. Later Paul will warn against teachings that sound wise but empty the gospel of Christ’s sufficiency (2:4, 8). The Colossians’ beginning was different. From the first day they received the real thing, and from that day the same gospel moving through the world began its quiet increase among them.

They received it through a person. “Just as you learned it from Epaphras.” The verb suggests more than a single sermon; it points to instruction that took root. Epaphras is “our beloved fellow servant”—literally a fellow slave—and “a faithful minister of Christ.” He did not invent the message or improve upon it. He delivered what he had received, and he did so with steady loyalty to both the word and the people. Whether the phrase is read “on your behalf” or “on our behalf,” the sense is mediation: he stood between the apostolic gospel and this congregation, serving Christ by serving them. He later traveled to Paul, shared their story, and continued to labor in prayer for them (4:12–13). Faithfulness here looks ordinary and costly at once—teaching the truth clearly, staying with the people, and carrying their needs to God.

The evidence he brought was specific. He “made known to us your love in the Spirit.” Their love was not mere friendliness. It was love produced by the Holy Spirit, the kind that can be recognized and reported, the kind that moves an apostle to unceasing prayer (1:9). Faith, hope, and this Spirit-given love belonged together from the beginning.

So the short paragraph holds several gifts at once: a word that keeps bearing fruit across the world and inside a local church; a grace that can be truly understood rather than merely admired; a faithful servant who hands that grace on without distortion; and a Spirit-given love that confirms the word has taken root. None of these replace Christ. All of them display his ongoing work.

The same gospel is still bearing fruit and increasing. It does not depend on our brilliance, yet it still ordinarily travels through people who teach it faithfully and shows itself in love the Spirit alone can produce. Wherever that is happening—even in small and ordinary places—it is already part of the larger increase Paul celebrates.

For reflection

  • Can you name the season when the grace of God moved from something you had heard to something you truly understood? What has that understanding cost you, or given you, since?
  • Who has served you as Epaphras did—teaching the gospel faithfully and remaining a fellow servant rather than a distant expert? How might you give thanks for them today?
  • Paul treats “love in the Spirit” as observable evidence that the gospel is bearing fruit. Where do you see that kind of love already at work around you, and where are you asking the Lord to let it increase?
  • The gospel is described as bearing fruit and increasing both “in the whole world” and “among you.” How does holding those two together shape the way you pray for your own congregation and for the church beyond it?

My dear ones, just as others shared the gospel with you, you now need to share the gospel with another, Keep passing on the good news of Jesus Christ to those who still are enslaved to sin and let the truth set them free,

Until next time,

Your fellow sheep along the journey

A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:3-6a

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Thanking God for Others

We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, since we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints, because of the hope laid up for you in heaven. Of this you have heard before in the word of the truth, the gospel, which has come to you, as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and increasing—as it also does among you, since the day you heard it and understood the grace of God in truth.

My dear ones in Christ,

As we sit sipping our morning beverage today, we get the privilege of looking at Paul’s letter to the church at Colossae. Paul, as far as we know, never personally travelled there. A man named Epaphras, described as one of Paul’s co-workers in Ephesus, believed the gospel, took it to his town and started a church. He then reports to Paul how things are going.

Paul has never met most of these believers. He writes from a distance, perhaps from a prison cell, and the first thing that rises in him is not correction or strategy. It is thanksgiving. Whenever he prays for them, he thanks God. That is worth sitting with. The Christian life begins, and is continually renewed, not with what we produce for God, but with what God has already done in people we may barely know.

He thanks God because he has heard two things: their faith in Christ Jesus, and their love for all the saints. Faith here is not a vague spirituality. It is trust directed toward a Person—Christ Jesus. Love is not a general warmth. It is directed toward “all the saints,” the whole family of God, not only the easy ones. These two marks—trusting Jesus and loving His people—are the evidence that grace has taken root.

Then Paul names the spring from which both flow: “because of the hope laid up for you in heaven.” Faith and love are not self-generated virtues. They rise from a hope that is already stored, already reserved, already safe. Hope in the New Testament is not fragile wishing. It is a confident expectation of what God has promised and will surely give. Because something solid is waiting in heaven, the Colossians can trust Christ now and love one another now. The future gift steadies the present life.

That hope did not arrive as a private impression. They heard it “in the word of the truth, the gospel.” The gospel is not one message among many. It is the word of truth—the announcement of God’s grace in Jesus that actually corresponds to reality. It “has come to you.” It traveled. It crossed culture and distance. And once it arrived, it did what the gospel always does: it bore fruit and increased. Not only in Colossae, but “in the whole world.” The same seed produces the same life wherever it is received.

Notice the pairing: they heard it and understood the grace of God in truth. Hearing is not enough. The gospel must be grasped as grace—unearned, undeserved, sufficient. When grace is understood that way, fruit follows. Faith takes hold of Christ. Love reaches toward the saints. Hope lifts the eyes. The church becomes something for which an apostle can thank God.

This is still how the Lord works. The gospel comes. Someone hears. Grace is understood. Faith, love, and hope appear. And someone far away, or close at hand, gives thanks.

For personal response

  1. When you pray for other believers, do you more often ask God to fix them—or thank Him for what He has already begun in them?
  2. Where is your hope currently “laid up”? What do you find yourself leaning on when the present feels thin?
  3. Can you name a time when you truly understood the gospel as grace, not merely as information? How did that change the way you trusted Christ or loved His people?
  4. The gospel is “bearing fruit and increasing.” Where do you see even a small increase of faith or love in your own life, or in the life of your church, since you first heard it?
  5. Who has been an Epaphras to you—someone who brought you the word of truth? Whom might the Lord be asking you to thank, or to carry that same word toward?

Remember dear ones, because God loves you deeply, He sent someone to share His gospel with you. Thank Him for His mercy and goodness to you.

Until next time

Your fellow sheep

A Sheep Contemplates Colossians 1:1-2

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A Family Letter

My dear friends,

As we begin our study in Colossians, let us take the time to look at the two first verses of Paul’s letter. Greetings are easy to skim through, but this morning let us take the same time to linger over them as we linger over our coffee.

Paul begins the way a pastor often must begin: by reminding the people who they are, whose they are, and what God is still giving them.

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and Timothy our brother, To God’s holy people in Colossae, the faithful brothers and sisters in Christ: Grace and peace to you from God our Father.— Colossians 1:1–2 (NIV)

The letter opens with a name, then a vocation, then a source. “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.” He does not introduce himself as a religious expert, a gifted writer, or a man who finally got his life together. He stands in this letter because God willed it. The same man who once tried to destroy the church now speaks as one sent by the risen Christ. That is not a résumé line. It is a confession. Authority in the church does not begin with personality. It begins with the will of God.

There is comfort here for ordinary believers as well. If Paul’s apostleship rests on God’s will, then your place in Christ does too. You are not in the family because you were impressive enough to earn a seat. You are here because the Father wanted you.

And Paul does not stand alone. “Timothy our brother.” The great apostle names a younger coworker as family. The gospel does not produce isolated heroes. It produces brothers and sisters who labor side by side. Paul had not even planted this church himself; Epaphras had carried the gospel to Colossae. Still he writes as a father in the faith, and he writes with a brother at his side. Ministry, at its healthiest, always sounds like this: sent by God, shared with family.

Then Paul turns to the church. “To God’s holy people in Colossae, the faithful brothers and sisters in Christ.” Holy people does not mean a special class of Christians who have risen above the rest. In Scripture, the saints are simply those God has set apart for himself. Holiness here is first a gift of belonging before it is a pattern of living. These believers were not holy because Colossae was a pure place. It was not. It was a small market city in the Lycus Valley, full of mixed religions, local customs, and spiritual pressure. They were holy because they belonged to God.

That matters if you have ever looked at your own life and thought, If Paul knew my actual week, he would have chosen a different adjective. He does not begin with their performance. He begins with their identity. Before he corrects, warns, or exhorts, he blesses them with their true name.

He also calls them “faithful brothers and sisters.” The word can mean believing as well as loyal. Either way, the point is family. They are not a club of the spiritually successful. They are siblings. The church is not first an event you attend. It is a household you have been brought into.

And notice the two addresses Paul holds together: they live in Colossae, and they live in Christ. One is their street and city. The other is their true home. You and I also live in two places at once. We have a town, a job, a family system, a set of limitations, a particular sadness, a particular history. That is our Colossae. But if we belong to Jesus, our deepest location is not the place that appears on an envelope. It is union with Christ. Colossae may explain much of what you face. It does not get to define who you are.

Then comes the prayer disguised as a greeting: “Grace and peace to you from God our Father.” This is more than ancient letter etiquette. Paul takes the common Greek wish for favor and the common Hebrew wish for wholeness and fills both with the gospel. Grace is God’s undeserved kindness toward sinners in Christ. Peace is the reconciling fruit of that kindness: peace with God, and then, slowly, peace within and among his people. The order is theologically deliberate. Peace does not create grace. Grace creates peace.

And the source is family language again: “from God our Father.” Not a distant deity. Not a vague spiritual force. The Father of the Lord Jesus has become our Father. That is why Timothy can be called “our brother,” and why the Colossians can be called brothers and sisters. The whole greeting is already quietly Trinitarian and deeply pastoral. God wills. Christ sends. The Father gives grace and peace. The church becomes a family.

You may think you need a new strategy, a clearer future, or a lighter load. You may. But underneath all of that, you need what Paul asked for this little church: fresh grace for people who cannot save themselves, and the peace that only a reconciled Father can give.

These two verses are easy to hurry past. Do not.

  • If you feel unauthorized and small, hear this: God places his people where he wills.
  • If you feel stained and ordinary, hear this: in Christ you are already named among God’s holy people.
  • If you feel isolated, hear this: you have been given brothers and sisters.
  • If your town, your past, or your present pressure feels louder than the gospel, hear this: you live in Colossae, but you also live in Christ.
  • If your soul is restless, hear this: grace and peace are not souvenirs from the day you first believed. They are the Father’s ongoing gift to his children.

Paul will soon lift our eyes to the Son who is before all things and in whom all things hold together. But he starts here, close to the ground, with names, family, and blessing. That is how God often meets us too—not first with a system to master, but with a word that tells us we belong.

Reflection Questions

  1. Where in your life are you tempted to treat your calling as self-made rather than received “by the will of God”?
  2. When you hear the phrase “God’s holy people,” do you instinctively exclude yourself? What would change if you received that name as a gift rather than a grade?
  3. What is your “Colossae”—the particular place, pressure, or ordinary setting where you live right now? How does being “in Christ” speak to that place?
  4. Who has been a “Timothy” to you—a brother or sister who reminds you that faith is not a solo project? Whom might you stand beside in that same way?
  5. Which do you more urgently need today: grace (God’s undeserved help) or peace (the settled fruit of belonging to the Father)? Why?
  6. How might your greetings, prayers, and conversations with other believers become more like Paul’s—naming people by their identity in Christ before rushing to advice?

Know this, dear ones. Because God deeply loves you, He has adopted you into His family.

Your brother in Christ

Recalculating Life

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You know that moment. You’ve got the spreadsheet. Color-coded. Goals neatly stacked like Tupperware. Career trajectory? Locked in. Family timeline? Optimistic but “realistic.” Spiritual growth? You’ll get to that after the kitchen remodel.

Then life happens. The job evaporates. The relationship you were sure was “the one” becomes a cautionary tale you tell at small group. The house you prayed for comes with a roof that leaks in three places and a neighbor who mows at 6:17 a.m. You stare at the ceiling at 2 a.m. and whisper, “Lord, I thought we had an understanding.”

Proverbs 20:24 looks at your carefully laminated life plan and smiles, not unkindly: “A person’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand their own way?”

It’s not a scolding. It’s more like a gentle elbow to the ribs. Solomon isn’t saying your plans are worthless or that you should wander around in a spiritual fog waiting for a skywriting angel. Scripture is full of people who planned—Joseph stored grain, Nehemiah inspected walls, Paul mapped missionary routes. Planning is wisdom. Clinging to the plan as if it were Scripture is something else.

The first half of the verse is a statement of fact, not a threat: your steps are directed by the Lord. Not micromanaged like a nervous stage parent. Directed. Guided. Held. The same God who numbered the hairs on your head (including the ones you keep finding on your pillow) is not surprised by the detour you just took. He is not frantically flipping through a celestial binder muttering, “Wait, that wasn’t on the agenda.”

The second half is the honest question that follows: How then can anyone understand their own way? Answer: We can’t. Not fully. Not the way we want to.

We see the next three steps. God sees the whole map, including the scenic route through the valley we would have voted against. We want the itinerary. He offers Himself. That is both more frustrating and more wonderful than we usually admit.

This is not fatalism in a Sunday dress. You still choose. You still repent. You still show up, work hard, love people, and make the next faithful decision. But the illusion that you can stand at the beginning of the path and comprehend the whole journey? That’s the part the proverb quietly dismantles. We are not the authors of our stories. We are characters who have been invited to trust the Author.

And here is the Christian hope tucked inside the mystery: the One directing the steps is not a distant cosmic traffic cop. He is the God who became flesh and walked dusty roads Himself. Jesus didn’t just give directions. He is the Way. When we cannot understand our own path, we are not left with a shrug. We are left with a Person who already walked through death and out the other side.

So yes, make the plan. Write it down. Pray over it. Then hold it with open hands, the way you hold a toddler’s drawing you love more than the artwork itself. Because the point was never the perfect route. The point was walking with the One who already knows where this is going.

Even when the GPS of your heart keeps saying “recalculating.” Especially then. A few questions to sit with:

  • Where in your life right now are you most tempted to demand a full explanation from God before you’ll take the next step?
  • What “five-year plan” (or five-month plan) have you been gripping so tightly that it might be crowding out trust?
  • How might your anxiety change if you treated uncertainty less like a problem to solve and more like an invitation to walk closer to Jesus?
  • Can you name one past detour that, looking back, you now see as directed rather than derailed? What does that memory do to your current fears?
  • What is one small, faithful next step you can take this week without needing to understand the entire road ahead?

The Great Equalizer

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There’s a verse tucked away in the middle of Proverbs that doesn’t get quoted on coffee mugs nearly as often as “Trust in the Lord with all your heart.” It’s Proverbs 29:13, and it goes like this:

“The poor and the oppressor have this in common: the Lord gives sight to the eyes of both.” (NIV)

Or, if you prefer the ESV’s slightly more dramatic flair:

“The poor man and the oppressor meet together; the Lord gives light to the eyes of both.”

At first glance it feels almost too straightforward. Like Solomon looked around, shrugged, and said, “Well, both of these guys can see the sunrise. Next proverb, please.” But linger with it for a minute, and it starts to glow with the quiet, slightly mischievous wisdom of God.

Picture the scene. On one side of the ancient marketplace sits a man whose sandals have more holes than leather. On the other side stands the guy who owns half the marketplace and has strong opinions about how little the first man should be paid. They don’t share a lunch table. They don’t share a worldview. They barely share the same air without tension. And yet—same eyes, same gift of light from the same Lord.

God doesn’t check the bank balance before He flips the switch on another day. The sun rises on the righteous and the unrighteous (Matthew 5:45), and here Solomon points out that the same divine generosity that lets a beggar see the path to the bread line also lets the oppressor see the path to the counting house. It’s almost funny in its fairness. The Lord of the universe is not impressed by our hierarchies. He hands out eyesight like free samples at Costco—no membership required.

This is pure common grace with a side of holy humor. The God who formed the poor man’s eyes also formed the rich man’s. The same breath that gave life to the oppressed gave life to the one doing the oppressing. Neither of them earned the ability to open their eyelids this morning. Both of them will close those same eyelids one day and give an account. In that light, the oppressor’s temporary advantage looks a lot less permanent, and the poor man’s temporary disadvantage looks a lot less final.

From a Christian perspective, this verse is a gentle reminder that the ground at the foot of the cross is perfectly level. Jesus didn’t die for the deserving. He died for people who could see—literally and spiritually—only because God first opened their eyes. Some of us use that sight to chase status and power. Others use it to simply survive. Either way, the light came as a gift.

So the next time you’re tempted to write someone off as “those people” (the lazy poor, the heartless rich, the annoying neighbor who parks like a maniac), remember Proverbs 29:13. The Lord gave that person the same capacity to see beauty, truth, and their own need for grace that He gave you. That’s either deeply comforting or mildly inconvenient, depending on how much you enjoy ranking people. Personally, I find it both—and I’m pretty sure Solomon would have smiled at that.

After all, if God is generous enough to keep the lights on for both the underdog and the top dog, maybe we can afford to be a little more generous with our attitudes too.

Application Questions

  1. When was the last time you caught yourself mentally sorting people into “deserving” and “undeserving” categories? How does this verse challenge that habit?
  2. In what practical ways can you reflect God’s impartial generosity this week—toward someone poorer than you and toward someone who seems to have more power or privilege?
  3. How does remembering that every person you meet received the gift of sight (and life) from the same Lord change the way you pray for both the oppressed and the oppressor?
  4. Where might God be inviting you to “meet together” with someone very different from you, simply because you both stand under the same light?