Ten Hag is just a Dutch Ole 😊 welcome to the Dutch Side of Manchester...a club that promotes mediocrity and embellish it with a sprinkle of Youth and Progress. We cannot win anything serious (EPL and Champions League) with Rashford, Martial, Sancho, Shaw and McTGuire. #TOTMUN
The Clearest Sign You Have Lost God.
It is not when you have fallen into a grave sin. It is not when you have doubted. And it is not even when you no longer feel grace. The most reliable sign that you have lost God is when your heart has become cold and indifferent to the pain of another.
You may perform every ritual perfectly, but if you can calmly walk past someone’s tears, or remain unmoved by the loneliness of your neighbour-if there is no living, active compassion in your heart-know that you are infinitely far from Christ.
For God is Love. And the path to Him lies only through a compassionate heart.
Reading Hebrews 7 leaves you in awe. This is not just clever theology; it feels like divine intelligence unfolding in real time. The writer constructs such a devastatingly logical argument that you almost feel sorry for anyone trying to resist it.
He begins by setting Melchizedek beside Abraham and proving that Melchizedek is greater. How does he do it? First, Abraham pays tithes to him. In Jewish thought, the one who pays tithes acknowledges the superiority of the one receiving them. Second, Melchizedek blesses Abraham, and every Jew knows the principle: the greater blesses the lesser. So the conclusion is unavoidable. Melchizedek is greater than Abraham.
Then the writer tightens the grip. If Abraham acknowledged Melchizedek, then Levi, and by extension the entire Levitical and Aaronic priesthood, acknowledged him too, because Levi was still in Abraham’s loins. That is profoundly Jewish argumentation. It leaves no escape. Even the priesthood bows to Melchizedek. Case closed.
Then the writer brings in Psalm 110 and drops the hammer. God swore that another priest would arise after the order of Melchizedek. And the question becomes unavoidable. If the Levitical priesthood was sufficient, why did God promise another priesthood centuries later? The only logical conclusion is that the old priesthood was never intended to be final. It was always provisional. If the priesthood changes, then the law changes. That is fair, logical, and inescapable.
Now the argument becomes intensely focused. Psalm 110 is about the Messiah. Who is this Messiah-Priest? The answer is Christ. But Christ is not from Levi. He is from Judah. So His priesthood cannot be grounded in ancestry or legal regulation. It must be grounded in something else entirely. The writer answers that directly. His priesthood is grounded in the power of an indestructible life. Melchizedek’s priesthood in Scripture appears without end. Christ literally defeats death and lives forever. The parallel is complete.
Then the writer introduces a detail that detonates everything. The old priesthood came through law. Christ’s priesthood comes through God’s sworn oath. And every Jew knows what an oath from God means. Their entire identity exists because of God’s oath to Abraham. If they take that oath seriously, they must take this one seriously too.
Finally he exposes the failure of the old system. It never brought perfection. It could not give true access to God. Its priests kept dying so the system lacked continuity. They kept sacrificing daily so the system lacked finality. They had to sacrifice for their own sins so the system lacked moral perfection.
Jesus answers every weakness in one sweep. He lives forever. He is morally pure and needs no sacrifice for Himself. He offers one sacrifice, once for all. And He never stops interceding. It is the ultimate once-and-for-all solution. You do not have to keep patching the problem. It is dealt with permanently.
Hebrews 7 does not merely say Christianity is better. It declares that God Himself has moved history forward. The old priesthood is finished. The old system has served its purpose and is now obsolete. Christ stands as the final, eternal, perfect High Priest. Once you see that, you cannot pretend nothing has changed. You do not argue. You bow.
My dad was advising a man that was complaining about his wife not giving birth to a boy because the man said how will his name "survive"
And my dad said something that made me go crazy with my goals
he said,
If you want your name to live and not die, make a name for yourself. your kids cannot keep your name alive.
If you want your name to survive, give your name life by doing things that people will talk about when you die.
he asked the guy "who remembers the kids of Abraham Lincoln or the kids of Thomas Edison or even Nnamdi Azikiwe?"
"Who even cares about the kids of anyone great in history?" we don't.
So if you want your name to not die, make a name for yourself by being a great person or else, your name will die when you die and there is nothing you can do about it.
Every lineage comes to an end.
But the great names in every dead lineage do not die. They outlive generations.
There is power in our collective voices.
If Ochanya were your child, your sister, or your friend, would you truly scroll past this post without typing #JusticeForOchanya ?
Don’t be silent.
Her pain deserves Justice
We are her voice now, and she must get Justice
The Grace of Being Forgotten
There are seasons when God leads us into quiet corners of life, not to punish us, but to refine our faith. There is a strange beauty in being unseen, misunderstood, and rejected. When the noise fades, when applause ceases, when people who once stood beside us drift away, we begin to taste the kind of dependence that cannot be learned in comfort.
I know what it means to walk that path. Ministry often feels like a long, narrow road lined with silence. There are days when I preach to hearts that seem far away, and nights when I wrestle with questions that have no quick answers. There are moments when the weight of isolation feels unbearable, when the very people who should have stood by are nowhere to be found. And yet, even in that loneliness, there is a lesson that no crowd can teach. It is in that silence that we discover that Christ is enough.
God has a way of stripping us down until all that remains is Him. When Elijah sat under the broom tree, he was not useless - he was being emptied. When Moses tended sheep in Midian, he was not forgotten - he was being shaped. When Paul sat in chains, he was not sidelined - he was being perfected. Every servant of God must learn the art of hiddenness. It is there that pride dies, and grace grows.
When you have no one left to affirm you, you learn to rest in the smile of heaven. When no one claps for your obedience, you find joy in the unseen approval of God. When no one understands your tears, you remember that Christ Himself was “despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).
In this world, we measure success by visibility. God measures it by faithfulness. The man who preaches unseen in a village is no less valuable than the one speaking before thousands. The woman praying in secret is no less powerful than the one leading a crowd. The kingdom of God does not operate on recognition; it operates on surrender.
Even now, as I walk this narrow road, often in loneliness, I see His mercy in it. The absence of human help has taught me to rely on divine strength. The silence of friends has forced me to listen more closely to the Shepherd’s voice. And the rejection of men has only made me long more deeply for the acceptance found in Christ alone.
If you find yourself unseen, take heart. You are not forgotten but you are being refined. The hidden places are holy ground. The wilderness is not the end of ministry; it is where real ministry begins. God is not punishing you by isolating you; He is preparing you to depend on nothing and no one but Him.
So let us not despise the lonely road. It is there that faith is purified, motives are tested, and grace becomes more than a word - it becomes breath.
“For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10).