Better to stand firm upon the rock of unyielding truth, though the congregation be but a remnant, than to build a cathedral upon shifting sands, for the storm of judgment will surely reveal the folly of compromise.

The world’s easy solutions have crept into the Church. “For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears” (2 Timothy 4:3). We see it today—cathedrals of popularity rising where truth is watered down, where the full counsel of God is exchanged for half-truths and comforts. But what use is such a cathedral when the storm of judgment comes? Will it stand when the winds of testing blow?

Christ Himself warned of such folly, for He said, “Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock” (Matthew 7:24-25). The rock is Christ and His truth—unyielding, uncompromising, absolute. There is no other foundation that will withstand the coming storm.

Yet I hear the voices saying, “But we must adapt, we must soften for the sake of unity!” Unity built upon falsehood is no unity at all. It is the tower of Babel, destined for confusion and ruin. The remnant may be small, despised, rejected by the multitudes, but it stands upon the truth. It may not boast the great numbers or the grand buildings, but it holds fast to that which cannot be shaken.

“Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his” (2 Timothy 2:19). Brethren, it is better to stand with a few on the rock of truth than to be swept away with the crowd upon the sands of compromise. Let the storm come! Let the winds blow! If we are upon the rock, we shall not be moved.

In these days of great deception, when the church seeks to please men more than it seeks to please God, remember the words of our Lord: “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). Only truth brings freedom, and only truth brings life. All else is bondage to lies and death.

If you must stand alone, stand! If you are but a remnant, rejoice! For the remnant is precious in the sight of God, and He will uphold you. “Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32). The remnant may be small, but its foundation is sure, and its reward is eternal.

God help us to be that remnant—to stand firm upon the rock, even when the world crumbles around us. Let us not compromise, let us not yield to the pressure of the age. Stand firm, stand true, and when the storm has passed, the remnant will remain, standing upon the unshakable rock of Christ.

Holiness, my friends, is not some quaint relic of yesteryear, nor a relic we can afford to leave in the past. It is the blazing furnace that consumes the dross of our lives, stripping us of pretense and pride. The world mocks, the lukewarm sneer, but God Almighty has not changed. The God of Sinai—the One who thundered, “Be ye holy; for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16)—still calls us to ascend His holy mountain. And what awaits us? Fire—holy, purging, relentless fire.

Have we forgotten that without holiness, “no man shall see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14)? That the path to Him is not strewn with compromise, but with a heart purified by fire? The prophets of old trembled before His presence, yet today we treat Him as common, as though we could carry our sin-stained lives into His courts unscathed. Let us not be deceived! The God who appeared in the bush that burned but was not consumed (Exodus 3:2) still desires to burn away every ounce of impurity in His people.

How long will we toy with sin and call it freedom? How long will we compromise the eternal for the temporal, the holy for the profane? We say we want revival, but there can be no revival without the fire of holiness. It is this fire that will separate the wheat from the chaff, the true from the false. It is this fire that will burn away our half-hearted devotion and cleanse us for His purposes. “Who may abide the day of His coming? And who shall stand when He appeareth? For He is like a refiner’s fire, and like fullers’ soap” (Malachi 3:2).

Oh, how the lukewarm despise the fire! They sit in their pews, content with their rituals, comfortable in their sin, scorning the narrow way of holiness. But mark this well: the God of Sinai has not gone silent. He still calls us to strip off the tattered garments of compromise and ascend to Him. And there, in the blazing fire of His presence, we will be laid bare, refined, and made vessels fit for the Master's use. “For our God is a consuming fire” (Hebrews 12:29).

What, then, shall we do? We must pray, “Burn, O Lord, burn! Burn away our indifference, our apathy, our love for this world. Burn away everything that is not of You. Set our hearts ablaze with holy fire, that we may live solely for Your glory.” For the time is short, and the fire awaits.

Holiness is not an option, it is a mandate. And if we are to meet the God of holiness, we must be willing to be consumed by His refining fire. Let us not shrink back, but rather, as the saints of old, cry out, “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10).

The hour is late. Let us strip off the filthy rags of compromise and allow the fire of His holiness to burn within us. And when it does, we will be transformed, made ready to stand before the God who is Himself a consuming fire.

What are we building, my fellow pilgrims? This world is no friend to grace, yet we go about, often as blind men, raising towers of vanity, brick by brick, feeding our own ambitions. But hear me well: the applause of men is but a momentary whisper, vanishing as quickly as it comes. “For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.” (James 4:14) And so, I ask again, what are we building?

Too many today are content with sandcastles. They build their kingdoms upon the shifting desires of this world—riches, influence, praise from men. But I tell you this: the tides of eternity will sweep those castles away. “Every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is.” (1 Corinthians 3:13) Only that which is done for Christ will remain. Only what is built upon the Rock, not the sand, will stand.

Let us be wise builders, then! Not laboring for the praise of men or the fleeting pleasures of this world, but for eternity’s sake. Let us invest in eternity’s currency—the souls of men! Hear the cry of Scripture: “What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36) And yet, I see multitudes rushing headlong into ruin, content to hold fast to the worthless trinkets of time while the treasures of eternity lie neglected.

The hour is late, my brothers and sisters. The judgment day is coming. What will we present before the throne of God—wood, hay, and stubble, or gold, silver, and precious stones? “The fire shall try every man's work.” (1 Corinthians 3:13) Oh, that we might seek first the kingdom of God, and let all else be added according to His will! (Matthew 6:33)

The weight of eternity’s values rests upon our shoulders. Let us cast off our selfish ambitions and seek the glory of God above all else. The deeds we do here, in the quietness of our souls, will echo in the halls of heaven. And when all is said and done, when this life has passed, may we be found to have built well, having laid our treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. (Matthew 6:20)

What are we building? I pray it is something that will last when the fire falls.

In this age of ceaseless distraction, men chase after mirages—fame, pleasure, and the endless pursuit of things that cannot satisfy the soul. We scroll, we surf, we click, but after the frenzy dies down, what remains? An aching void, a hunger that gnaws at the spirit. “The eyes of man are never satisfied” (Proverbs 27:20), yet how many continue to drink from the broken cisterns of the world, hoping they will fill what only God can?

The deepest thirst of the human heart can never be quenched by the wells of this earth. If you seek peace in possessions, joy in fleeting pleasures, or meaning in the shifting sands of public opinion, you will find yourself parched—withered like a dry, barren desert. Christ alone can quench that thirst. He declared, “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst” (John 4:14). Is that not the promise? That in Him, we shall find the wellspring of life itself?

You see, dear reader, the tragedy of our time is not that people are merely distracted, but that their souls are starving—starving for the presence of the living God. While the world offers substitutes that only deepen the drought of the soul, God stands with outstretched arms, offering the waters of life freely. He bids us, “Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters” (Isaiah 55:1). Yet how many refuse to come?

The true meaning of life can only be found in a real, personal relationship with Him. Not a vague understanding, not a passing prayer, but a deep, burning hunger to know God—to be drenched in His presence and to drink deeply of His Spirit. “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God” (Psalm 42:1). This is the cry of the heart that longs for Him, the heart that will not settle for anything less.

The question, then, is not whether you are thirsty—everyone is—but whether you will seek the living water that can truly satisfy. The world will tell you to seek comfort, to numb the thirst with pleasures that never last. But Christ tells you to come to Him. “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled” (Matthew 5:6). Do you believe that? Will you seek Him until your heart is overflowing with the fullness only He can give?

The time is short, my friends. Don't waste your life chasing after streams that will run dry. Seek the fountain of life, and in His presence, you will find all you need—and more. “And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely” (Revelation 22:17).

Come, and be satisfied.

So, “World Religion Day” they call it? A grand affair to congratulate ourselves on the tolerance of Babel we’ve constructed? A day to pat ourselves on the back for holding hands with pagans and heretics, all the while speaking softly about “understanding” and “unity”? Understanding, is it? I dare say the word reeks of the worst sort of compromise—lukewarm, spineless, and devoid of conviction!

What is there to understand when idols still sit high on thrones erected from the very bones of the Faith? When minarets rise like blasphemous needles against the sky, and incense from strange altars thickens the air, choking the clear and mighty call of the Gospel? Is that what we ought to celebrate? A carnival of creeds, where truth is drowned in a cacophony of falsehood?

“For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 2:5). There is no multiplicity of paths, no divine marketplace offering a variety of salvations. There is Christ, or there is nothing at all.

Nay, my friends, we do not gather to rejoice in this confusion. We weep for it. We weep for the souls led astray by the murky waters of false doctrine, for those who seek peace in the tangled web of conflicting creeds. What this world calls peace is nothing more than the brief lull before the storm, the numbing calm before judgment. We see them parched for truth, yet drinking from poisoned wells. “For my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13).

This world craves peace, does it not? Yet where do they seek it? In a chaos of creeds, in the noisy confusion of human religions, in the weak-willed pronouncements of those who would trade truth for tolerance. But mark my words, peace is no child of compromise. Peace is the hard-won offspring of surrender—surrender not to men, but to the one, true God.

“Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword” (Matthew 10:34). The peace that Christ offers is not the absence of conflict, but the triumph of truth. It cuts deep, like a sword, dividing light from darkness, right from wrong. And in this divided world, let us not be those who mumble of “understanding” when what we mean is “appeasement.” Let us instead preach the Gospel in all its unvarnished splendor, unafraid of offending those who would rather cling to their idols.

Tolerance, they say. But tolerance for what? For the gangrene that eats at the heart of the Church? For the termites gnawing away at the very foundation of the faith? No! Let us be utterly intolerant—intolerant of lies, intolerant of half-truths, intolerant of anything that stands between a soul and its Savior. “Ye cannot drink the cup of the Lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the Lord's table, and of the table of devils” (1 Corinthians 10:21).

On this “World Religion Day,” let us not celebrate the lukewarm tolerance of all things, as if every path is equally valid. Let us, instead, raise our voices like trumpets, calling the world not to coexistence with falsehood, but to repentance and redemption. Let us proclaim the one way, the one truth, the one life—the Gospel of Jesus Christ. “Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

Let them celebrate their diversity if they must, but let it be known that we, who stand upon the rock of our faith, will not budge. Let them hear the ring of truth in our words, the unyielding certainty of our convictions. Let them see the fire in our eyes—not the fire of anger, but the fire of love for the lost. And above all, let them know that peace can never come from a chorus of contradictions, but only from the harmony of hearts surrendered to Christ.

Go forth, then, not as those who simply tolerate, but as those who declare. For the kingdom of heaven is at hand, and we will not be found among the tepid or the timid. We stand firm, even when all else is shifting sand.

“And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7). Amen.

What value is a name without the scars of battle in the cause of Christ? What worth is a life lived without a wound in the service of the King of kings? Too many among us are content with a pristine reputation, polished by the soft hands of worldly approval. But I tell you, that which shines in the eyes of men is often dull before the throne of God. “For they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God” (John 12:43).

We were not called to be spectators of a comfortable religion. The Kingdom of God is no place for self-seekers or the faint-hearted. It is a battleground, a place of fiery trial, where only those willing to bear the scars of sacrifice will hear the thunderous roar of the King’s approval. “Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ” (2 Timothy 2:3). The war for souls rages on, and we cannot afford to remain unmarked by the heat of the fight.

Forget your selfish ambitions. Lay aside the hollow applause of this dying world. It is better to be wounded in the battle for souls than to walk untouched in the halls of fleeting comfort. Do not strive to keep your life unblemished by the blows of righteousness. Jesus Himself was not spared, and we are no greater than our Master. “And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38).

Oh, that the Spirit of God would consume our selfish desires! Let His fire burn away our earthly crowns and replace them with a holy passion that cries out, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). What is life without the love of Christ beating within us, driving us to the fields of spiritual warfare? We must embrace the fiery transformation of the Holy Ghost until our souls scream with the consuming love of God—a love that presses us to seek the good, not of ourselves, but of His Kingdom!

Let your heart be kindled with divine purpose, for it is only through the scars of battle that we shall one day wear the crown of life. “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” (Revelation 2:10). Will you bear the scars? Will you lay down your life for the One who laid His down for you? Seek not the applause of men, but the roar of approval from your King!

Rise, soldier of Christ, and let your name be marked by the wounds of a faithful servant. Only then will you hear the words every soul should long to hear: “Well done, thou good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21).

A mind without breadth is a soul without breath, confined, stifled, and barren. Too many are content to dwell within the narrow borders of their own understanding, unwilling to let the full expanse of God’s truth break through their walls of comfort. Yet the Lord declares, “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge” (Hosea 4:6). We have fenced ourselves in with ignorance, content with shallow truths, while the garden of wisdom stretches beyond our sight, yearning for the tilling of the faithful.

To think rightly of God, one must not only have sharpness of mind but also a heart wide enough to embrace the vastness of His revelation. Our faith is not a mere set of isolated ideas but a grand mosaic, each piece a reflection of the infinite. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding” (Proverbs 9:10). Without this holy awe, our thoughts are like weeds, springing up but bearing no fruit.

True thinking requires both depth and height, like a tree whose roots reach down into the earth while its branches stretch toward heaven. “Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth” (Colossians 3:2). We are called to expand our vision, to see with the eyes of eternity, and to cultivate a mind that can hold both the moral law within and the wonders of creation without. To think shallowly is to be shackled to the temporal; to think deeply is to gaze into the eternal.

It is time to tear down the fences of small thinking and let the Word of God stretch our minds, breaking the boundaries of our limited understanding. “Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2), for a renewed mind will see the world not through the dull haze of human reasoning, but through the sharp clarity of divine truth. Let us be thinkers who see as God sees—vastly, deeply, and with eyes fixed on the everlasting.

There is a loneliness, my friends, that ought to be cherished—loneliness with the Almighty. It is a sacred retreat, where the soul is stripped of the world’s noise and distractions, left only in the presence of the Holy One. In that solitude, we commune with God as Abraham did when he stood before the Lord, pleading for the righteous in Sodom (Genesis 18:22-33). It is there that we are molded, chastened, and renewed. “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Such stillness is not weakness, but strength drawn from the very throne of grace.

Yet how often we flee from that holy loneliness, rushing instead into the company of men, craving their approval, their companionship, their laughter! Beware! The fellowship of the faithless is a breeding ground for spiritual decay. “Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners” (1 Corinthians 15:33). How many souls have traded their holy solitude for the festering poison of worldly camaraderie, drifting further from the voice of God with every passing jest? We find ourselves diluted, our zeal dampened, our fire quenched by the cold waters of compromise.

Elijah knew the price of standing alone with God. He was not among the masses when he called down fire from heaven, but alone upon Mount Carmel, confronting the faithless multitudes and their prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18:21-39). Loneliness with God gave him the courage to stand, though a nation had fallen to apostasy. And shall we, in this present age, fear to stand alone when the crowds clamor for comfort and ease?

The modern Church too often prioritizes fellowship over truth, forgetting that “friendship with the world is enmity with God” (James 4:4). We are called to a higher standard, not to seek the approval of men but the favor of the Almighty. “What concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel?” (2 Corinthians 6:15). If the path to holiness means we walk it alone, then let us walk it with the assurance that we are never truly alone. “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5).

There is, of course, a fellowship that is life-giving, a gathering of saints who strengthen one another in the faith (Hebrews 10:24-25). But be discerning, beloved. Not every fellowship that bears the name of Christ is rooted in the fear of the Lord. Beware the gatherings where truth is compromised, where the Word is watered down, where men speak much but say little. In such places, spiritual sickness festers, and the soul withers in its pursuit of holiness.

Do not fear the lonely path of truth. It may be narrow and winding, and few may walk it with you. But the company of the Almighty far outweighs the approval of men. “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Matthew 16:26). Better to be alone in the desert with God than in a palace of lies with a multitude.

So, seek the solitude where God speaks, where your heart may be still and your soul set aflame once more. And when you return to the fellowship of men, let it be with a fire that cannot be quenched, a light that cannot be dimmed, and a resolve to stand, even if you must stand alone.

The world is starving, not for bread alone, but for righteousness—for a goodness that reflects the very heart of God. Yet, too many within the Church sit idly by, spectators in a dying world, as though the mere knowledge of the gospel were sufficient. Oh, how it grieves the Spirit of God! “To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin” (James 4:17). We were not called to warm the pews or applaud from the sidelines while a few labor in the fields. Christ Himself did not observe; He acted. His hands healed, His words cut like a sword, and His feet carried Him to the despised and the broken.

Mediocrity has become a silent killer in the Church today. Too many have settled for a comfortable Christianity, content with doing the bare minimum—hoping to slip quietly into heaven. But I tell you this: mediocrity will not stand in the day of reckoning! “So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God” (Romans 14:12). What will you say in that hour? That you lived safely, did nothing to disturb the peace of the world, and left no mark for the Kingdom of Heaven?

God is not looking for spectators; He is seeking disruptors—those who will trouble the status quo of darkness with the brilliance of His light. He is searching for men and women of holy courage, those who will “cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet” (Isaiah 58:1), and refuse to let this world sink into greater depravity without a fight.

The great day of the Lord is fast approaching, and when it comes, the books will be opened. Will your name be recorded among those who took a stand, who fought for righteousness, who refused to let mediocrity define their days? Or will it be said that you watched, while others bled and prayed and sacrificed?

The gospel calls us to more than passive existence. We are called to make war with sin, to be the salt that stings and the light that blinds. “The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light” (Romans 13:12).

I urge you, brethren, awaken from your slumber! The world is starving for the goodness of God, and you carry within you the bread of life. Do not withhold it. Do not waste the days given to you on this earth, for they are few and fleeting. Let us, like our Savior, leave an indelible mark for the glory of God.

The breath of life—what a sacred gift it is, given by the hand of Almighty God! Yet how often do we treat it with careless indifference, as though tomorrow were promised to us. “For what is your life?” asks James, “It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away” (James 4:14). Indeed, the days are short, and the call to action is urgent.

Too many of us waste this precious gift in idle contemplation, mistaking thought for duty. But mere thinking, even if it be upon noble things, means little if it does not stir us to act. The Word of God calls for a fervent life. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10), for time will soon slip from our grasp. Contemplation without action is the mark of a life that leaves little behind.

When we stand before the Judgment Seat of Christ, we will not be asked how well we thought about His commands, but how well we obeyed them. Christ’s call was not to the dreamers but to the doers. “Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves” (James 1:22). This is the dividing line—the test of true discipleship.

Will we be found among those who took their God-given breath and labored for His Kingdom? Or will we be among those who squandered it in the comfort of their own minds, content with good intentions but barren of good deeds? The Apostle Paul warned us, “The night is far spent, the day is at hand” (Romans 13:12). Time is slipping away, and every moment of delay is a moment lost to eternity.

The breath of life demands a response—fervor, not passivity; action, not idle thought. Let us rise, while we still have breath, to do the will of Him who gave it. For when our last breath comes, let it be said of us, “They labored for the things that last, not for the things that fade.” “Redeeming the time, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16).

In a world that exalts mediocrity and applauds lukewarm living, it is all too easy to surround oneself with the faint-hearted, those whose spirits neither soar nor stumble but remain tepid—neither hot nor cold. Yet, if you would rise above the crowd, if you would live for the things that matter in eternity, you must forsake the comfort of weak companions and seek the fellowship of those who burn with holy fire.

Scripture declares, “Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend” (Proverbs 27:17). Do you know what that means? It means the dull cannot make you sharp! The weak cannot make you strong! If you would be a warrior for Christ, then stand with warriors—not with the soft-spoken crowd who choose comfort over conviction.

Look around you, friend. Who walks beside you in this pilgrimage? Is it the timid soul who shies away from the cross, or is it the bold saint whose very life is a testimony of sacrifice and burning zeal? “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” (Amos 3:3). The answer is no! If you would walk the narrow way, you must link arms with those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, not with those who merely dabble in faith on Sundays.

Our Lord Himself was clear: “He that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38). The road to the cross is not paved with the smooth stones of earthly ease. It is a path of hardship, a journey meant for those who are willing to forsake all. If your companions are content to live at ease in Zion, then you will never feel the weight of the cross or the fire of revival burning in your soul.

It is time to take stock. Do you walk with the mighty or with the mundane? If your spirit has grown dull, perhaps it is because you have surrounded yourself with the lukewarm, those who shrink back from the full call of God. But I tell you, it is better to stand alone in the furnace of affliction, with the Son of God by your side, than to walk in the shadow of mediocrity with the multitudes. “Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1).

The question remains: Who are your companions? Will you choose the warriors, whose hearts blaze with the zeal of Christ? Or will you linger in the company of the faint-hearted, content with a form of godliness that denies its power?

The time is short. Choose well. Choose now. “The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light” (Romans 13:12).

We live in a time where grace is often misunderstood. It is preached as a balm to soothe every wound, but I fear we’ve turned it into an excuse to sin with impunity. Make no mistake—God's grace is wondrous, undeserved, and boundless. But let us not forget that it is not a license to mock His holiness.

The preacher in Ecclesiastes declared with piercing clarity: “Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil” (Ecclesiastes 8:11). How true this rings today! God's patience is mistaken for approval, and His long-suffering for indulgence. We see men sin with boldness, as though the fires of judgment have cooled, as though God has forgotten His own Word.

But let us be clear: God's patience is not an endorsement of our iniquity. It is mercy—an open door for repentance, not an invitation to persist in rebellion. “The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). Yet how long will we test His patience? Do we imagine His grace is infinite, that judgment has been postponed indefinitely? This is the great deception of our age.

Judgment is not a distant threat, something we may ignore as we wallow in our sin. It is as sure as the rising of the sun. “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” (Galatians 6:7). The day of reckoning draws near, and no man knows the hour. His patience, though long, has its limits.

Now is the time to turn, not tomorrow. Tomorrow may never come. The cry of the Spirit is clear: “Seek ye the LORD while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near” (Isaiah 55:6). God’s grace, wondrous as it is, does not exempt us from His holiness. The same God who extends mercy is the same God who will bring justice to this earth.

Let us not spurn His grace by continuing in sin. Let us not trample the blood of Christ underfoot. Time is short, and eternity is long. Repentance is not a suggestion; it is a divine command. Will we heed it, or will we face the full wrath of a holy God?

The door of mercy is open, but it will not remain so forever. Let us flee from the wrath to come. Let us turn with all our hearts while there is yet time. God has spoken, and His Word is clear: “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the LORD, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon” (Isaiah 55:7).

Turn now, for the hour is late, and His patience, though great, is not without end.

Listen closely, saints—there’s no substitute for the unadulterated truth. The world around us clamors for compromise, offering half-truths and palatable deceptions, but I tell you, there’s nothing more potent than the pure gospel of Christ. When the blind man stood before his accusers, he didn’t argue with fine words or clever rhetoric. No, his testimony was simple, yet devastatingly powerful: “One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see” (John 9:25). That is the unshakable power of experience, my friends.

You see, there are always those who will hurl arguments against our faith, who will scrutinize every detail of doctrine, hoping to break down the walls of truth. But let me tell you, the truth of God stands firm like a fortress, unyielding and eternal. As the Psalmist declares, “For ever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven” (Psalm 119:89). You don’t need to engage in endless debates or philosophical wrangling to defend your faith. Your testimony speaks volumes—more than any argument ever could.

“I was lost,” you can say to them, “wandering in the darkness of my sin, a stranger to my own soul and to my Maker. But then He found me, the Shepherd of my soul. He lifted me from the mire and set me upon the Rock” (Psalm 40:2). The gospel is no theory—it is power. It is “the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Romans 1:16). And power doesn’t need to be explained; it needs to be experienced.

Experience, brethren, strengthens your heart against the assaults of skepticism far better than any philosophical discourse. The grace that has touched your life, the blood that has washed your sins—these are your defense! The world may mock, scoff, and dismiss your faith, but they cannot deny the transformation that Christ has wrought in you. “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

So, my friends, hold fast to the truth! Don’t water it down or wrap it in the niceties of this age. Proclaim it boldly, live it courageously, and let your life be a testament to the One who opened your eyes. We are called to stand firm, not to cower. We are called to “earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints” (Jude 1:3). And remember, it is not our eloquence that will win the day, but the undeniable reality of a life transformed by the truth of Jesus Christ.

Let the world argue. We shall testify!

“Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” (Galatians 6:7). This is the law of the harvest, both in the soil and in the soul. And if this is true of any soul, how much more of the tender hearts of children? A child’s heart is a field, ripe for sowing—either for righteousness or for ruin. To neglect the preparation of such soil is not merely a mistake; it is nothing short of cruelty.

Scripture tells us, “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6). Parents, you are not given this command as a suggestion, but as a solemn duty. The home is the first altar, the first classroom, the first church. To fail here is to set your child adrift in a world that is bent on his destruction. Shall we be more diligent in preparing fields for a good harvest of wheat than in preparing our children’s souls for the Lord’s harvest? “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not” (Mark 10:14). Yet, how many parents—by their neglect, their worldliness, their silence—are indeed forbidding their children from coming to Christ?

You may say, “I bring my child to church.” But hear this: you are the preacher they watch every day. Your example, your prayers, your love of Scripture—these are the seeds you are planting. A field left untended will grow wild with weeds. So, too, will a child’s heart, if left without godly guidance. “Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4). What a calling this is—to bring them up in the very knowledge of God! Neglect it, and you may well find yourself standing in judgment, not only for your own soul but for the souls you were entrusted with.

The world will sow its seeds if you do not. It will plant rebellion, unbelief, and vanity, and then you will wonder why your child does not bear fruit for the kingdom. But you see, a field reaps what is sown. “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved” (Jeremiah 8:20). What terror to hear such words from a grown child, knowing the soil was never truly prepared for the Gospel!

I tell you, parents, to fail in this duty is nothing less than spiritual treason. There is no neutrality in this battle. You are either leading your child to Christ or leaving them to the world. Let every father and mother ask, “What seeds am I sowing today?”

Let us weep for the souls of the children, but let us not stop there. Let us labor, pray, and set before them the example of godliness, that their hearts may be a field ready for the Good Seed, that they may hear, “Well done” on that great day. For remember, “He that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting” (Galatians 6:8).

God help us to sow well and faithfully.