Every one of us will encounter words that have the power to linger.

Some are spoken in anger.
Some are offered carelessly.
Some are intended to wound.
Some become identity and labels we never asked to carry.

Words like..."You're not good enough." Or, "You'll never succeed." Your mind may whisper, "You're a failure," or accuse, "You're weak."

The truth is, we cannot control what others choose to say. And sometimes it's even hard to control what words replay in our own mind, those negative things we say to ourselves. While we can't silence every critic or erase every hurtful comment, we can choose what we allow to shape us. We have the power to speak better things over ourselves and our lives. Repeating a constant truth, a million times a day if necessary, until it drowns out the negative noise around us.

Imagine a compass.

No matter how many voices argue around it, the needle continues pointing north. It doesn't chase opinions. It isn't distracted by criticism. It remains fixed on what is true. Always pointing north.

Our lives need that same kind of anchor.

Healthy feedback is valuable. And sometimes difficult words reveal blind spots we need to address. Wisdom listens carefully before responding. Not every opinion deserves equal weight, and not every label deserves a place in our identity.

When we allow someone else's words to redefine who we are or redirect where we're going, we've handed them authority over our lives, power they were never meant to have.

Instead, learn to pause. Evaluate what you've heard honestly.

Keep what is true.

Release what isn't.

Then continue moving toward the purpose, values, and convictions that guide your life.  Your direction is too important to surrender to the opinions of others. Because in the end, your future is shaped far more by the choices you make than by the labels others want to place on you.

Your direction in life is your choice. Don't let their words change your course or victory.

There are moments in the life of a believer when conviction does not fade with time, but deepens. It is not always loud, but it is persistent. It does not come from anger, but from a growing weight of sorrow—a heaviness of heart over what we begin to see more clearly.

For me, that conviction is not theoretical. It is shaped by where I have come from. Having once lived in a place where truth and deception were intertwined, where spiritual language was blended and clarity obscured, my concern is not abstract. It is personal. It is experiential.
And it raises a question that cannot be easily set aside:

Are we (the Church), even unintentionally, creating the same kind of mixture within the Church that we were once called out of?

This question often surfaces during what should be the most sacred time in the Christian faith. We gather to remember the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, to reflect on the cost of sin, and to celebrate the resurrection that stands at the center of our hope.

This is not simply a tradition.
It is the foundation of everything we believe.

And yet, in the middle of this holy remembrance, many churches include something else—something widely accepted, culturally familiar, and often defended as harmless.

An Easter egg hunt.

For many Christians, there is no tension here. It is joyful. It brings families together. It creates excitement for children and offers a way to engage the community.

These are not wrong desires. The longing to welcome others and to create spaces of joy reflects something good within the heart of the church.

But sincerity does not remove the need for discernment.

Scripture calls us not only to good intentions but to careful examination. 
“Test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21).

The question before us is not whether something is enjoyable or effective in gathering people.
The question is whether it is faithful.

Are we being faithful to Christ, faithful to the gospel, and faithful to the people we are called to disciple?

At the heart of this discussion is not simply what is permissible, but what is formative.

Every practice within the Church shapes

• our affections
• our attention
• our understanding

Ultimately, those practices shape our devotion and form our understanding of what Christianity is.

So we must ask:
Does what we are doing draw us more fully toward Christ--or divide our attention between Him and something else?

Scripture calls us to a singular devotion. “Keep yourselves from idols” (1 John 5:21).
Idolatry is not always obvious. Sometimes it is the quiet presence of something that competes for meaning, shares symbolic space, or softens the clarity of where Christ alone should remain central.

When we place non-biblical symbols within the most sacred remembrance of Christ’s death and resurrection, we must ask whether we are maintaining that clarity or unintentionally diminishing it.

Syncretism rarely begins with open rejection of truth. It begins with addition.
Throughout history, movements such as Gnosticism and systems like Haitian Vodou developed not through immediate denial of God, but through gradual blending—combining truth with outside ideas until clarity was lost.

That is how drift happens.

Not all at once.
But slowly.
Quietly.
Unexamined.

The concern is not that a single event defines syncretism.

But rather, are we introducing elements that, over time, blur what should remain unmistakably clear?

Are additions shaping perception in ways that blur the uniqueness of the gospel over time?
 
We are not the only ones interpreting our practices.

In a culture where many are exploring spirituality through systems such as Wicca and other nature-based beliefs, symbols carry meaning. Eggs and rabbits are not always seen as neutral. They are often associated with fertility, seasonal renewal, and cycles of life.

When those same symbols appear within a Christian setting, they may not be interpreted as harmless. They may be seen as familiar. And what feels familiar is often dismissed.

Perception matters, especially to those outside the church.

Rather than encountering something distinct, they encounter something that feels blended. Another variation of what they already believe. And what feels blended is often dismissed.

And that weakens our witness.

There is another group we must consider carefully: those who are new to the Christian faith.

Many believers are still learning what it means, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). Many are just beginning to discover:

• what it means to follow Christ
• how to renew their minds
• how to distinguish what is holy from what is of the world

For a mature believer, it may be easy to distinguish between what is cultural and what is essential. For a new believer, it is not.

When cultural and worldly traditions are placed alongside the gospel, they are often received as part of Christianity itself. And in doing so, the Church may unintentionally model and teach a blended faith—one where truth and worldly traditions exist side by side without clear distinction.

Over time, this can weaken our discernment and make it more difficult to recognize compromise in other areas.

Paul speaks directly to this issue when he writes, “All things are lawful, but not all things are helpful… not all things edify” (1 Corinthians 10:23) or build faith.

The question is not simply what is allowed, but what strengthens the faith of others.

And even more directly he warns: “Be careful… that your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak” (1 Corinthians 8:9). If even a portion of the body is confused or hindered, this is something to take seriously.

And it leads us to a deeper question—one that reaches into the formation of the heart.

What will people remember?

When children and families participate in a weekend that includes both the remembrance of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection with activities such as hunting for plastic Easter eggs filled with candy or prizes, those experiences do not remain separate.

They are woven together in memory, shaping not only what is remembered, but what is most treasured.

And over time, what is most vivid is often not what is most sacred, but what is most stimulating.

• The laughter
• The activity
• The reward

 
So we must ask honestly, when someone looks back on the weekend we hosted, What will they remember most? What will feel central to them years from now?

Will it be the cross, the reality of sin, the grace of God, and the victory of the resurrection?
Or will it be something else, placed alongside it?

Ask kids at church next weekend, what were their favorite parts about Easter weekend. Their answers are the memories we are shaping.

Scripture shows us that remembrance is not casual.

In Exodus 12, the Passover was established with intention and clarity, pointing to Christ. Jesus continued that pattern in Luke 22:14–20, and the Church was instructed to remember Him in 1 Corinthians 11:23–26 in particular ways.

These moments were not supplemented with additional symbols. They were centered entirely on what God had done. Nothing was added that could compete for our attention. Because:

• What we remember shapes what we value.
• What we value shapes our devotion.

This also leads us to consider the stewardship of the church. The time, energy, and resources entrusted to us are given for a purpose. They are meant to reflect the priorities of Christ and to build up His body. The early church devoted themselves to teaching, fellowship, breaking of bread, and prayer (Acts 2:42–47). While this does not dictate every form of activity the modern church can do, it establishes a pattern of Christ-centered focus.

When significant resources are directed toward activities that are not rooted in Scripture and that may carry mixed meaning, it is reasonable to ask whether those resources are being used in a way that most clearly reflects the mission of the Church.

For leadership, this is an opportunity—not a threat. Leadership carries a sacred responsibility in shaping how the Church remembers, teaches, and represents Christ. When concerns are raised about how practices surrounding our Easter or resurrection celebrations—such as events like egg hunts—may affect clarity, conscience, or our witness, they should not be dismissed without thoughtful engagement.

Not every concern or difficult question is an attack or the enemy.

Sometimes these questions or concerns are an invitation to grow in discernment, looking at the spiritual weight they carry. They also present an opportunity for greater refinement and unity. As faithful leadership listens carefully, weighs concerns against Scripture, and seeks to guide the body of Christ with both truth and grace, these questions turn into blessings.
And at the same time, believers not in leadership who carry and raise concerns must do so with humility. Our call is not to accuse or judge intentions as evil but to speak truth in love, pursuing unity. Our convictions don’t give us license to encourage division, hatred, or disrespect our brothers and sisters who disagree.

Conviction and unity are not enemies.

Our convictions should not be a call to remove joy from the church or disengage from community and fellowship with those who disagree. Ours is a call to align our expressions of joy with the truth.

The Church is not limited to copying cultural traditions that carry and promote mixed meanings. We can create experiences that are engaging, meaningful, and rooted in Scripture, without eggs or bunnies. We can create opportunities that do not simply entertain, but that clearly and consistently point to Christ.

Imagine if the Church promoted during the holy resurrection weekend events that only focused on:

• a resurrection-centered journey
• a gospel-based story experience
• interactive teachings that lead families to Christ

Not less engagement—but more clarity.

Ultimately, this is not about Easter eggs. It is not about preference or tradition.
In the end, this is about Christ.
It is about devotion.

• Does what we are doing draw us more fully toward Christ?
• Does it strengthen the clarity of the gospel?
• Does it build up the faith of believers and present a clear witness to those outside the church?

In our desire to engage culture, have we allowed culture to shape how we present Christ?

The gospel does not need to be supplemented to be compelling.

The gospel simply needs to be seen clearly.

If we are willing to pause, to listen, and to examine our practices together, this does not have to become a point of division. It can become a moment of refinement—a chance to pursue clarity over familiarity, faithfulness over convenience, and Christ, fully and unmistakably, at the center of everything we do.

That’s a goal worth pursuing together.

Amid the struggles, quarrels, and trials you face in life,
may Thanksgiving be a time
to celebrate the Lord who has been gracious to all.

In life, the reality is not "whether" or not we will teach others, but "what" we will teach them.  We teach by the testimony of our lives through the decisions we make. Please realize today every action you make is being viewed by others.  You are either helping them travel more confidently the right path or encouraging them to walk the road of destruction.  You might not believe it, but others are learning through your words and actions today. 

This should give you pause for reflection, to examine your own lifestyle and choices.  However, it should also empower you to understand the influence you have on the world around you.  For better or for worse, you can make a difference.

I am exceedingly happy to report that Dave's side lump has completely disappeared as of this week. Honestly, I am so surprised by it's disappearance, and I know God must have done it.  That's the way our God works... sometimes a large obstacle seems to consume your life one moment.  Then as you surrender to the Lord, it slowly fades until one day you realize it is completely gone.  You're not sure exactly how it left, when it left, or even where it went, but at the same time, you don't really care.  It's enough to simply rest in the relief that the problem is gone.  Praying today that you are able to experience divine relief from a disheartening situation too.

I wrote about the events that happened Dave originally on September 17th.  Today I wanted to give you an update.   It's been a little more than a week now.  I can say that just by acknowledging my struggle aloud, I felt a release in my heart.  Then as I meditated and prayed about the situation, asking God to continue to heal my mistrust or lack of acceptance to His plans, I felt a peace grow inside my heart.  It took less than a day. 

Then, on the next day, my husband said, "Wow, Dave's lump has really gone down."  I'd shaved the area before trying to drain it the week before, so the lump had been extremely obvious against his bare skin.  Skeptical, I looked at Dave and sure enough, the lump had decreased in size by half overnight.  Dave's lump had been visible about four days before I tried to drain it initially, believing it was a growing abscess.  Many may not know, but for several years I was a veterinary technician at several clinics and studied as an undergrad preparing to attend Vet School.  Fixing minor issues like the draining or cleaning of wounds was nothing new to me.  My experience in this field is why I chose to try to initially drain the wound. 

As I examined Dave, I wondered how much his current situation was created to make me aware of my internal faith issue that God wanted to deal with for my healing.  Over the next couple of days, the lump has continued to decrease in size.  It is currently the size of a shooter marble.  I continue to pray for Dave's complete healing from this issue, whatever it may be.  And now I also have a peace that regardless of whatever comes in the future, that God has a good plan for me and Dave.  I am honestly a little surprised to feel this constant assurance where once my broken heart had only skepticism.  I know this is the power of the Living God working within me.  And I know, given the chance, He will do the same for you!

I'd been reflecting on my earlier comment the entire day, with a lot of guilt I might add.
                    "I only have Jesus..."
So forlorn did I say it.  It was as if Jesus was my last choice for healing help, and money for veterinary care was my first.  All day I've been pondering my statement wondering, "why on earth I could think, Jesus isn't enough?"  The God of the Universe, awesome in power, creator of dogs everywhere... and I dare to think for a moment that somehow He couldn't be enough to heal Dave just because I don't have money to take him to the vet.  Or that somehow God couldn't provide the money for me to take Dave to the vet miraculously even. 

The truth is, I have no idea what Dave's lump is, or if it could be treated medically even if I had all the money in the world. Part of me, like many of you, doesn't like to admit moments like this in my walk of faith.  Thankfully, I've grown bigger than that prideful part of me.  I'm able to examine my faults honestly to find the strength Jesus wants me to have instead of those weaknesses.  It doesn't matter if others judge me as less for confessing a weakness, because Jesus said "to His own master a servant stands or falls" (Romans 14:4).  Jesus is able to fix any issues I have with faith.

The truth is I have great faith in many areas of my life, but after losing Renvek, such a precious little boy, to a disease I couldn't comprehend could be stronger than Jesus, my reservations aren't in my faith in God's ability to heal that are weak.  My hesitation is in my lack of knowledge in what's God's plan is versus my own desires for healing.  If Christians were brutally honest (as I usually am), we should be able to admit statements of feeling like praying to Jesus is our last option.  Then at least we can face that sad reality and hopefully grow out of it.

Unfortunately, I've had many of those experiences over the years, including just this past February when Gracie was diagnosed with that brain tumor. It's okay to admit when we're weak, that our hearts wish for an earthly, immediate help we can see, touch, and comprehend.  It's okay to acknowledge that often our bets are on the doctors, the hospitals with great reputations, EMTs, police, firefighters, or other professionals to help alleviate our problems and needs.  Sure we also include God in that mix, but rarely is ALL our hope ONLY in Him. We pray, but if we're honest it's not always our first go-to option, and many times it's the last resort.

Oh, for the faith to go to God first, every time, with absolute assurance!

I don't know what will happen with Dave, but I do know I will be seeking the Lord not only for his healing but for mine as well.  I just wanted to share my experience with you in case you are in the middle of a difficult trial and feeling overwhelmed or hopeless because you're poor or unable to help yourself or someone you love have what they need.  Thankfully, the strength we need lies not in our hands, but in His.

Remember, you're never alone.

It's going to be okay... and whatever happens, God has it, just trust Him!