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Turn off your notifications and listen to God

Tattyom
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Turn off your notifications and listen to God

September often feels like a new beginning. Summer fades, routines restart, and life begins to pick up pace. For many people, it’s a period where calendars begin to quickly fill – lectures begin, workplaces get busier, group chats explode and inboxes overflow as responsibilities pile high. In all this busyness, silence can often feel like a luxury. Yet one of the most important questions for us as disciples of Jesus remains: how do we hear God’s voice in a world drowning in notifications?

In 1 Kings 19, Elijah finds himself weary, overwhelmed, and afraid. He flees to Mount Horeb, where he witnesses a great wind, then an earthquake, and then a fire. But the Lord is not in them. Instead, God comes in a gentle whisper.

The lesson is clear: God often chooses to reveal Himself in ways that require us to be still and pay attention. While culture celebrates what is loud, dramatic, and constant, God’s voice often moves quietly, calling us to listen more deeply.

A call for disciples to be still

Our generation may be more connected than ever before, but it is also more distracted. The endless scroll of TikTok, the constant pings from WhatsApp groups and the pressure to reply instantly all compete for our attention, making it harder to find moments of stillness. This tension presents us with a choice: to conform to the noise, or to try a different way of living.

I’ve felt this tension myself as a working professional – often promising to read my devotional on the train into work, only to be sidetracked by news alerts, a crowded inbox, or the lure of a quick doomscroll. By the time I reach my stop, the moment for quiet reflection has slipped away. For me it’s a sobering reminder that if I don’t guard these moments of silence intentionally, the noise will always win.

And so, the question I find myself asking is not whether God still speaks, but whether we are willing to slow down long enough to hear Him.

As we see with Elijah’s story, hearing God’s voice does not require dramatic action. Often, it begins with small but deliberate steps to slow down. Here are some ways I have been learning to make space for God in the midst of the noise:

  • Digital pauses: Every so often, I step away from the doomscroll and write – either journalling or writing letters to God. It is in those quiet moments of writing that I find the clearest answers to the questions I have been carrying
  • Sacred pauses: I take time to acknowledge God’s goodness and welcome Him in. For me, that often looks like closing the door to my room, putting a worship song on repeat, and letting that space become a meeting place
  • Scripture meditation — I reflect slowly on a single verse, letting it to speak to me more deeply than a rushed sentence could. Right now the one echoing in my heart is “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10)

The distractions of our age may be relentless, but they are not final. The God who spoke in a whisper to Elijah still speaks today – to each and every one of us. The challenge is therefore not for us to do more, but to be still long enough to listen.

So here’s the invitation: as we step into the closing months of the year, don’t just fill your life with more noise. Instead, subtract something – mute a chat, walk without your headphones, or log off of your socials early. Resist the urge to replace that silence with something else. Instead, try giving it to God.

At a time where voices are amplified on social platforms, group chats and virtual spaces, discipleship begins with the courage to be quiet, and the wisdom to be still.

A Life, A Death, and the Witness of Grace

M.T. Omoniyi
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A Life, A Death, and the Witness of Grace

Charlie Kirk was only thirty-one years old when he was shot and killed this week. Just a little bit older than me. His name has been on the political scene for as long as I have been paying attention, and whether you agreed with him or not, he had a way of making sure you could not ignore him.

What has disturbed me even more than the violence of his death has been the reaction online. Within hours, people were mocking him. Some went as far as celebrating. Others used his death as a weapon in political arguments. Watching it unfold felt like staring at a mirror, reflecting just how much our moral fabric has frayed.

Hero or villan

The temptation in moments like this is to flatten a man’s life into a simple story. For some, Charlie was a champion, a truth-teller, a Christian who stood unashamedly for his faith. For others, he was reckless, provocative, and part of what they saw as a toxic political culture. The reality is that human beings are never this neat. None of us are. Scripture reminds us that all have fallen short (Romans 3:23), every single one of us. That includes Charlie Kirk, and it includes the people mocking him today.

This is where I think Christians are called to resist the spirit of the age. Jesus did not give His followers permission to cheer when enemies fall. He told us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. That is not sentimental advice. It is a radical command that cuts against the logic of outrage. It is uncomfortable because it forces us to see even the people we disagree with most fiercely as image-bearers of God.

Learn from his boldness

What strikes me about Charlie’s life is the boldness with which he lived out his convictions. You might not agree with his politics, you might not even like his style, but you could never accuse him of being timid. He spoke loudly, sometimes brashly, about what he believed. In a culture where silence often feels like the safest option, his refusal to be ashamed of his faith is something worth noticing. Paul wrote in Romans that he was not ashamed of the gospel. Charlie seemed to live by that same principle, for better or worse.

I do not say this to sanctify him. Like all of us, he was flawed. I say it because his death is a stark reminder of how short life really is, and how little time we have to decide what we will do with our own convictions. It is easy to spend years watching, critiquing, scrolling, and waiting for the perfect moment to act. But none of us are promised tomorrow.

As I reflect on his death, I find myself less concerned with what people thought of Charlie Kirk and more concerned with how I am living my own life. Am I bold enough about what I believe? Am I quick to show grace even when I disagree? Am I willing to love when the crowd is cheering for hate?

Those are the questions this moment presses on me. My prayer is that we as followers of Christ will not let cruelty and outrage disciple us. That we would remember the witness of Stephen, who prayed forgiveness for the people throwing stones at him. That we would remember the words of Jesus, who asked the Father to forgive those who nailed Him to a cross. That we would be different.

Charlie Kirk’s death is tragic. But maybe it can also be a reminder. Life is short. Convictions matter. Grace is still the better way.

We have a choice

When Stephen, the first Christian martyr, was stoned, Acts 7 tells us he prayed, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” That prayer echoed the words of Jesus Himself on the cross. Both men faced violent injustice. Both refused to let hatred have the final word.

Charlie Kirk’s life and death confront us with the same choice. Will we be a people who let politics define the boundaries of our compassion, or will we remember that even our enemies are worthy of dignity and prayer?

I am the same age as Charlie. His death rattled me because it forced me to see my own mortality. None of us are promised tomorrow. Which means the real question is not simply, “What do we think of Charlie Kirk?” The real question is, “What will we do with the time we still have?”

May we spend it with courage, with grace, and with a determination to resist the cruelty of the age.

Here Is Why Reading The Bible Is Non Negotiable

Chude Obuaya
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Here Is Why Reading The Bible Is Non Negotiable

Technology has made life easier. Everyday tasks that once took real effort can now be done with barely a thought. You no longer need to preheat the oven when you have an air fryer. You don’t need a clothesline when you’ve got a tumble dryer. You don’t even need to sit down with a book when you can just listen to one on your commute. Efficiency is the new norm, and in many ways, it’s made life more convenient.

But not everything benefits from being sped up. Somewhere along the way, this pursuit of convenience has shaped how we approach spiritual things too. If technology can make everything faster, then why not our time with Scripture? Can we really know God’s Word without slowing down? Should we expect the same results if we cut corners?

Psalm 119 offers us a different pace. It’s the longest chapter in the Bible, and almost every verse points us back to the value of knowing and loving God’s Word. It’s not a chapter you rush through. It’s a chapter that invites you to sit down, take your time, and pay attention. Verse 1 opens with a bold claim: “How happy are those whose way is blameless, who walk according to the Lord’s instruction.” Then a few verses later comes a question many of us are still asking: “How can a young man keep his way pure? By keeping your word” (verse 9). The message is clear. If we want to live wisely, if we want to walk in God’s ways, we need to know what He’s actually said.

That kind of knowledge doesn’t come passively. In verse 97, the psalmist writes, “How I love your instruction! It is my meditation all day long.” This isn’t background noise. It is focused, daily attention. Real love for God’s Word doesn’t come from exposure alone it comes from engagement. Jen Wilkin once said, “Your heart can’t love what your mind doesn’t know.” That line stays with me. Because in a culture where we’re used to quick results and multitasking, we risk approaching Scripture like everything else, something to be skimmed, scanned, or summarised. But the psalmist reminds us that joy is found in the slow process of learning, not just in the results.

Verses 15 and 16 give us a beautiful window into that joy: “I will meditate on your precepts and think about your ways. I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word.” Notice how delight doesn’t come instead of discipline. It comes through it. The more we sit with the Word, the more it shapes us. The more we return to it, the more it becomes a source of real joy.

It’s easy to think we’re engaging with Scripture just because we’ve played a podcast or scrolled past a verse. But the truth is, you can’t rush transformation. You can’t fast-track relationship. There’s no substitute for taking time in God’s presence, reading slowly, asking questions, and letting His Word speak to you.

So maybe the challenge isn’t to find the quickest way to spend time with God. Maybe the challenge is to resist that instinct entirely. To put the phone down, open your Bible, and stay a little longer. Because the joy isn’t just at the end of the study — it’s found in the study itself.

Christians Need the Gospel Too

M.T. Omoniyi
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Christians Need the Gospel Too

I was recently watching American Gospel with a life group I am part of, and it sparked a thought that would not leave me. We talk about the gospel so often as though it is only for those who are not yet believers. The picture that comes to mind is an altar call, an evangelistic rally, or someone hearing about Jesus for the very first time. That is true. The gospel is good news for the lost, the broken, the weary. It tells us there is a Saviour who rescues us from sin and death. But if we stop there, we have flattened something much bigger into a single moment. The gospel is not only how you enter the Christian life; it is how you live it.

Christians sometimes roll their eyes when the gospel is mentioned. We know this already. We are saved. That response shows we have missed something. The gospel is not a piece of information you graduate from. It is the centre of Christian existence, the very truth that keeps your heart alive.

What the Gospel Actually Is

The word “gospel” comes from the Greek term euangelion, meaning “good news.” In the first century, it was used for royal announcements or history-shaping victories. To call Jesus’ death and resurrection the euangelion is to say: this is the good news above all good news. Paul captures it in Romans 1 when he says he is “not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes.” Through Christ, God has dealt with sin, reconciled humanity, and opened up a new reality where grace and power replace guilt and futility. Salvation is the doorway. Do not confuse the doorway with the whole house.

Union with God

Think about Paul’s repeated use of the phrase “in Christ.” This is not a metaphor to be skimmed over. It means that believers are brought into fellowship with God Himself. We are not simply forgiven people trying our best until heaven. We are joined to Christ, sharing His life. Ephesians 2:13 puts it clearly: those who were once far away have been brought near by His blood. The gospel, then, is about intimacy with God, not just rescue from judgment.

The message of Jesus is not just about what He saved us from but about what He is making us into. “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Forgiveness clears the slate, but transformation writes a new story. By the Spirit, we are empowered to live differently, to resist sin, to show love where hate once reigned. This is why the gospel cannot be treated as old news. It is the engine of our renewal, the constant reminder that God’s grace is not finished with us yet.

When shame insists you have failed too many times, the gospel speaks a stronger word: your sins are nailed to the cross. When weakness makes you feel inadequate, the gospel reminds you that His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). When despair suggests you are out of options, the gospel opens up a horizon of hope.

Preaching the Gospel to Ourselves

If the good news is as wide and deep as Scripture insists, then Christians never outgrow it. We must return to it daily, rehearsing its truths until they shape our outlook. Preaching the gospel to ourselves means reminding our hearts that God’s love is secure, His Spirit is at work, and our future is safe in Christ. Romans 5:1 describes this reality with beautiful clarity: “Since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Peace is not a theory; it is a present experience of life under grace.

If the good news is as wide and deep as Scripture insists, then Christians never outgrow it. We must return to it daily, rehearsing its truths until they shape our outlook. Preaching the gospel to ourselves means reminding our hearts that God’s love is secure, His Spirit is at work, and our future is safe in Christ. Romans 5:1 describes this reality with beautiful clarity: “Since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Peace is not a theory; it is a present experience of life under grace.

Is the God of the Old Testament Different from the God of the New Testament?

M.T. Omoniyi
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Is the God of the Old Testament Different from the God of the New Testament?

A common critique of Christianity, sometimes whispered in doubt and other times shouted in frustration, is that the God of the Old Testament seems harsh, angry, and violent, while the God of the New Testament, revealed through Jesus, comes across as loving, kind, and merciful. People struggle to reconcile the God who sends floods and fire with the one who heals the sick and eats with sinners. But is this a fair reading of Scripture?

The short answer is no. This idea comes from a shallow understanding of the Bible and a limited view of God’s character. When you take the Bible as a whole, you’ll find that God’s justice and His love are not in competition with each other. They are both constant themes from Genesis to Revelation. Far from being two different deities, the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament are one and the same.

Love and justice work together

Let’s begin with how God describes Himself in the Old Testament. In Exodus 34:6–7, one of the most foundational passages in all of Scripture, God proclaims His name to Moses:

“The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty…”

This is how God introduces himself to us, and it’s an interesting glimpse into God’s mind. This is a God who is deeply loving, patient, and kind. However, He is also just. He doesn’t overlook evil, and He doesn’t pretend sin doesn’t matter. What we see here is a God who cares deeply about right and wrong and who holds people accountable, not because He is harsh, but because He is holy.

Throughout the Old Testament, this combination of love and justice appears again and again. In Hosea 11, God speaks of Israel’s disobedience with the heartbreak of a parent whose child has walked away. He says:

“How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused.”

That is not the voice of an angry tyrant. That is the voice of a grieving Father who loves deeply and longs to restore His people. Even in judgment, God is always working toward redemption. Imagine a father who is deeply worried and troubled about the path his son is going down. He feels it and he wants something different for them.

Yes, the Old Testament contains scenes of judgment and wrath, but they are not outbursts of divine cruelty. They are responses to deep injustice, oppression, idolatry, and sin. God’s actions are never random. He is always pursuing righteousness, always working to bring His people back to Himself.

Love that tells the truth. Jesus in the New Testament

Now fast-forward to the New Testament and meet Jesus. He is the embodiment of God’s love. He touches lepers, welcomes children, forgives sinners, and offers rest to the weary. He reveals God’s heart in intimate and personal ways. However, this same Jesus also confronts hypocrisy, warns about hell, and speaks clearly about judgment.

In Matthew 25, Jesus talks about a future day when people will be separated into two groups. Some will inherit the kingdom, and others will face eternal punishment. In Luke 13:3, He says, “Unless you repent, you too will all perish.”

Jesus, full of grace and truth, does not downplay the seriousness of sin. He doesn’t say, “God used to care about holiness, but now He just wants everyone to feel good.” Instead, He calls people to turn from their sin, to take up their cross, and to follow Him.

This is what real love looks like. It isn’t sentimental, it’s sacrificial. Jesus doesn’t cancel God’s justice; rather, He fulfils it. He steps into the place of judgment and takes it on Himself so that we can be made right with God.

Justice and love are our partners.

One of the biggest misconceptions people have is that love and justice are opposites. But in the Bible, they are actually inseparable. If God were only loving and not just, then evil would go unchecked. There would be no accountability, no protection for the vulnerable, no hope for the oppressed. On the other hand, if God were only just and not loving, none of us would stand a chance. The good news is that God is both.

At the cross, we see love and justice come together perfectly. Sin is not brushed aside. It is dealt with. But instead of punishing us, God takes the punishment on Himself. That is the very heart of the gospel. Jesus doesn’t soften the Old Testament God. He reveals Him in full clarity.

There are no easy answers when it comes to the harder parts of the Old Testament. Stories like the flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, or the conquest of Canaan can be challenging to read. But these passages can’t be divorced from the rest of the biblical story. They must be understood in the context of God’s plan to deal with sin and bring restoration to a broken world.

Rather than ignoring or avoiding them, we’re invited to wrestle with them. More importantly, we are called to trust that God is not reacting on a whim. He is patient, wise, and more loving than we can fully comprehend. We must also remember that God’s justice is never disconnected from His covenant love. Even His judgments are designed to lead people back to Him.

One God, One Story

So is the God of the Old Testament different from the God of the New Testament? I don’t believe so.

God is consistent. He is unchanging. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. His justice and His love are both central to who He is, and they are revealed throughout the entire story of Scripture.

The God who calls Israel out of slavery is the same God who says, “Come to me, all who are weary.” The God who gives the law on Mount Sinai is the same God who speaks blessings from the mountains of Galilee. The God who judged Egypt is the same God who wept at Lazarus’s tomb.

If you only see the judgment in the Old Testament, you’re missing God’s love. And if you only see the compassion in the New Testament, you’re missing God’s justice. You need both to truly understand who He is.

The Bible is not a story of two gods, but of one God working patiently and powerfully across history to rescue, redeem, and restore.

So the next time you hear someone say the God of the Old Testament is angry and the God of the New Testament is kind, remember this: God is always just, and God is always loving. That was true at the beginning, and it’s still true today.

A Life Worth Following: Reflecting on the Legacy of John MacArthur

M.T. Omoniyi
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A Life Worth Following: Reflecting on the Legacy of John MacArthur

No man has had a more outsized impact on my faith than John MacArthur.

I first discovered him during my second year of sixth form. I was eighteen, still figuring out who I was, and desperately hungry for truth. Not just truth in the general sense, but truth that was rooted in Scripture. I was tired of surface-level answers and emotional appeals that offered very little substance. What I longed for was clarity, depth, and a kind of unwavering conviction that could anchor my own pursuit of God. John MacArthur embodied all of those qualities.

His sermons weren’t dramatic or emotionally driven, but they were powerful in their precision. I found myself returning to them repeatedly, listening more than once just to absorb the richness of what he was saying. I took notes. I studied the passages he preached. I tested what I was hearing against Scripture and found that his careful, systematic teaching brought the Word of God to life in a way that felt both timeless and deeply relevant. I went on to read more than twenty of his books. Each one reinforced a truth I was just beginning to understand—biblical fidelity matters more than cultural relevance.

Over the last fifty years, no other preacher has matched his consistency, clarity, and depth. Week after week, year after year, MacArthur stood behind a pulpit at Grace Community Church and preached verse by verse through Scripture. He didn’t chase trends, avoid hard texts, or try to fit Scripture into the cultural mood of the moment. Instead, he simply opened the Bible and let it speak. In a time when many churches were drifting toward entertainment and personality-driven ministries, MacArthur remained anchored in exposition.

This is what Paul called for in 2 Timothy 4:2, urging Timothy to preach the Word in season and out of season. MacArthur fulfilled that call. He preached the Word when it was welcomed and when it was not, with a boldness that wasn’t arrogant but deeply rooted in conviction.

His influence extended far beyond the walls of his church. Through his media ministry, Grace to You, millions of people around the world encountered sound teaching. He founded The Master’s Seminary and The Master’s University, equipping generations of pastors and leaders with a high view of Scripture and a deep love for the gospel. His commitment to theological training created a ripple effect, as hundreds and eventually thousands of men were mentored, discipled, and sent into ministry through his leadership and example.

In a culture increasingly marked by moral failure, scandal, and shallow faith, MacArthur stood apart. He didn’t build his ministry on charisma, but on conviction. His life was not without controversy. He was direct. His words were sometimes sharp. But in most cases, that sharpness was simply the edge of clarity. In a world that prefers ambiguity, clear speech often sounds offensive. He didn’t apologise for that. His concern was never with whether people agreed with him, but whether the truth of Scripture was faithfully communicated.

Even those who found his tone difficult could not ignore the weight of his work. His legacy isn’t limited to sermons and books, but includes the countless men and women who grew in faith, character, and conviction because of his ministry. He challenged us to take Scripture seriously. He reminded us that the church doesn’t need to reinvent itself in order to be relevant. What it needs is depth, truth, and faithfulness.

MacArthur’s preaching was a steady guide during seasons when everything else felt uncertain. When church leaders around the world began to fall or shift under cultural pressure, he remained consistent. I often returned to his sermons for clarity on difficult issues. I didn’t always agree with every position he held, but I never doubted his integrity or the depth of his study. He was a man who knew the Scriptures and shaped his life around them.

For leaders like myself, especially those working in ministry, his life stands as a challenge. It asks whether we will hold firm to biblical truth when the cultural winds shift. It asks whether we are building ministries that will last, or simply chasing influence that will fade. MacArthur’s example has taught me that longevity in ministry is not the result of genius or giftedness alone, but of daily obedience and an uncompromising commitment to God’s Word.

I feel the weight of his passing. It is difficult to imagine a world without his voice cutting through the noise. But I am also deeply encouraged. His sermons, books, institutions, and disciples will carry forward his work. His legacy is not just a memory, but a foundation on which many of us continue to build.

Philippians 1:21 says, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” I believe John MacArthur lived those words with integrity. He lived for Christ, and now he has gained what he spent his life pointing others toward.

Thank you, Pastor John. Thank you for teaching the Word without compromise. Thank you for showing that a life rooted in Scripture can endure, inspire, and transform. Your legacy is more than what you said; it is seen in the people you shaped and the truths you never let go of.

You have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you have kept the faith. Well done.

The Silent Revival: Young People Are Returning to Church – Are We Ready?

M.T. Omoniyi
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The Silent Revival: Young People Are Returning to Church – Are We Ready?

A few Sundays ago, I found myself in a small church in East London. I was the guest speaker. What stood wasn’t the church set up, or even the music, it was the crowd. Mostly young people. Some students, some professionals, some in tracksuits, others in trousers and shirts. The kind of quiet diversity that doesn’t feel engineered. The kind that just… is. I’ve started seeing this more and more.

Across the country, something is happening that few people are talking about. Church attendance, particularly among young adults is rising. Not dramatically but it is rising

The data backs it up. A recent study by Bible Society and YouGov shows that monthly church attendance in England and Wales has increased from 3.7 million in 2018 to 5.8 million in 2024. Among 18–24-year-olds, attendance has risen from 4% to 16%. For young men in particular, it’s grown to 21%. That means one in five young men in that age bracket are attending church monthly.

This is not what most people expect to hear. The dominant story is still that churches are in decline, young people are disengaged, and faith is fading from public life. However this “silent revival” suggests something else is going on—quietly, below the surface.

It’s easy to explain this away as a statistical blip, however that would miss the deeper story. After years of political instability, social isolation, and uncertainty about the future, it makes sense that a generation would begin to ask deeper questions. Questions about meaning, truth and what’s worth holding onto when everything else feels shaky.

Church, at its best, offers space for those questions. Not always answers straight away but space to being exploring with trusted people. Some churches are seeing this and responding. They’re creating room for curiosity. They’re taking young people seriously not just as volunteers for children’s work, but as leaders, teachers, and thinkers. Others are still catching up and haven’t actually worked this out yet.

In 1 Timothy 4:12, Paul tells the young Timothy not to let anyone look down on him because of his age, but to be an example in speech, conduct, love, faith and purity. That challenge still stands for both the Timothys of today and for those who lead them.

The Bible is full of stories where the younger generation brings renewal. Josiah was only eight when he became king. Samuel heard God’s voice before the temple priests did. Even Jesus started confounding the teachers at twelve. This isn’t new but it is very timely.

How should we respond to this moment?

First, we need to pay attention. Revival doesn’t always come with flashing lights. Sometimes it comes in a conversation after church, or a student asking to get baptised, or someone bringing their friend along for the first time. If we’re too focused on what’s missing, we’ll miss what’s already growing and what we can tap into

Second, we need to create space. That means rethinking how we disciple. Are we helping young people understand Scripture in a meaningful way? Are we making room for questions that don’t have neat answers? Do we trust them enough to lead even if they don’t get it all right straight away?

And third, we need to live what we preach. This generation can spot inauthenticity from a mile off. If we say Jesus is central, but our lives suggest otherwise, they won’t stick around. On the other hand if we’re honest about our faith, our doubts, our routines, and our hopes—they might just find something worth staying for.

At On Mission, we’ve always believed that the gospel still has power today. Not just power to save, but power to sustain—to shape lives, communities, and futures. The quiet return of young people to church isn’t a trend. It’s a sign of spiritual hunger. A sign that beneath the noise of modern life, there are still people searching for God.

Let’s not miss what He’s doing. Let’s not wait for it to get loud before we start paying attention.

Jesus rose from the dead. Hope for all who die in Christ

M.T. Omoniyi
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Jesus rose from the dead. Hope for all who die in Christ

The resurrection of Jesus Christ is not just a historical event; it is the very heartbeat of the Christian faith. In 1 Corinthians 15:17, the apostle Paul writes, “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.” These are not light words. They remind us that without the resurrection, Christianity collapses into a well-meaning philosophy or a tragic story of a good man who died too young. But with the resurrection, everything changes. With the resurrection, we have hope—not only for this life, but for the life to come.

The resurrection means death is not the end

Let’s start with the obvious but deeply profound truth: Jesus rose from the dead. His body, cold and lifeless in a tomb, was quickened by the power of God, and He walked out into the morning light, fully alive. Not as a ghost or spirit, but as a glorified man. He ate with His disciples. He let Thomas touch His wounds, and he walked and talked and commissioned His followers.

This is not just a miracle to admire, it’s a promise. Paul says in Romans 6:5, “For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we will certainly also be united with Him in a resurrection like His.” That means Jesus didn’t just rise for Himself—He rose for us. His resurrection is the first fruits, the preview, the trailer of what’s to come for all who believe in Him.

So what does the resurrection mean for people who have died in Christ? It means their story isn’t over. It means the cemeteries, gravestones and eulogies are not the final chapters. It means, as Jesus said in John 11:25, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.”

We often say at Christian funerals, “We do not grieve as those who have no hope.” That’s because we believe that death has been defeated and not postponed, avoided but defeated. This is a vital distinction. In Jesus, death is not a period; it’s a comma.

Jesus didn’t escape death —He conquered it

What’s especially important to grasp is this: Jesus didn’t cheat death—He beat it. There’s a difference. Some might imagine Jesus slipping out of the grave like a magician dodging a trap. But that’s not what happened. He died. Fully. Painfully. Publicly. His heart stopped. His lungs collapsed. His body went cold.

And then He came back. Not resuscitated, but resurrected. He didn’t just return to the same kind of life He had before—He returned with a new kind of body, imperishable and glorious, never to die again.

This matters. If Jesus merely escaped death, then death would still be undefeated. But because Jesus went through death and emerged victorious, He robbed it of its sting. The resurrection was not a detour around death—it was a demolition job from the inside.

As Revelation 1:18 says, Jesus holds the keys of death and Hades. He is Lord over the grave now. That’s not poetry. That’s power. And it’s the foundation of our Christian hope.

What the resurrection means for you today

The resurrection of Jesus isn’t just a future promise—it’s a present reality. It means that everything is different. The tomb is empty, and so are the claims of fear, hopelessness, and despair. They have no eternal grip on those who belong to Christ.

It means your suffering will not be wasted. Your body, though it may ache and weaken, is not disposable—it will be raised, renewed, and redeemed. Your grief, while real, is not forever. Your sin, though heavy, has been paid for by a Saviour who didn’t stay dead.

It also means you have a mission. The risen Jesus told His followers to go into all the world and preach the good news (Matthew 28:19). What news could be better than this: that death is no longer the end, that love has triumphed over the grave, and that anyone—absolutely anyone—can share in the resurrection life of Jesus by faith.

The resurrection is not a Christian private party. It is God’s declaration to the world that His kingdom is coming, and nothing—not even death—can stop it. It is hope for the grieving widow, the war-torn village, the hospital waiting room, and the quiet moments when fear creeps in.

Jesus’ resurrection is a signpost pointing forward to the day when He will return and raise all who have died in Him. On that day, He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more (Revelation 21:4).

Until then, we live as resurrection people in a broken world. We live in light of the empty tomb. We mourn, but with hope. We suffer, but with joy. We die, but only into life.

Because Jesus lives, we shall live also.

And that changes everything.

Every Christian is Either an Evangelist or an Imposter

M.T. Omoniyi
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Every Christian is Either an Evangelist or an Imposter

Why evangelism is a non-negotiable part of following Jesus

Charles Spurgeon once said, “Every Christian is either a missionary or an imposter.” It’s a jarring quote — and it’s supposed to be. It confronts a version of Christianity that wants the comfort of Christ without the cost of carrying His message. It reminds us that to follow Jesus is to join His mission.

Evangelism isn’t a side gig for the few, the bold, or the theologically trained. It’s the normal, everyday life of someone who has truly met Jesus. If Christ is our Saviour, then His mission becomes our mandate — and that mission includes making Him known.

But how do we live that out practically? What does evangelism look like for those of us who aren’t preaching weekly or hopping on planes to remote villages?

That’s where lifestyle evangelism comes in — the understanding that our whole lives are a witness to Christ. Here are three truths to help us walk in it faithfully.

You’re not a Christian who evangelises occasionally — you’re a witness everywhere, every day

Many people think evangelism is something you do once in a while — during a mission trip, a Sunday outreach, or when someone finally asks you, “Why do you believe in God?” But the Bible paints a different picture. Jesus didn’t say, “Do witnessing.” He said, “You will be My witnesses” (Acts 1:8). It’s not an activity. It’s an identity.

That means wherever you go, you represent Christ — in your workplace, on the bus, at the gym, on social media, and even when no one’s watching. Your lifestyle speaks before your words ever do.

People are watching how you respond to pressure. How you treat people who can’t help you. How you handle failure. These everyday moments are your pulpit — not with a microphone, but with your life.

Evangelism isn’t just for Saturdays. It’s baked into your Monday morning routine, your lunchtime conversations, your acts of kindness, your patience, and your honesty. In a world that’s increasingly skeptical of religion, it’s often your example that opens the door for your explanation.

You’re not bringing Jesus somewhere — you’re joining what God is already doing

A common misconception about evangelism is that we’re bringing Jesus into people’s lives for the first time. But Scripture shows us that God is always at work, drawing hearts to Himself (John 5:17). The Holy Spirit is already moving — in your workplace, in your friend’s life, in the coffee shop down the road.

You’re not initiating something; you’re joining something. When you step out in faith to speak, serve, or love someone toward Christ, you’re stepping into a conversation God has already started.

This should bring us peace. You’re not responsible for saving anyone — that’s God’s job. You’re simply called to be obedient, available, and willing to play your part.

Think of it like this: evangelism is less about delivering a message and more about joining a divine adventure. One where the pressure is off, but the privilege is great. You’re a small part of a big story — and God delights in using ordinary people to do extraordinary things.

You don’t need to know everything — just share why you chose Jesus

One of the biggest lies that stops Christians from sharing their faith is this: “I don’t know enough.” But evangelism isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about being a witness.

You don’t need to explain every theological concept or debate every worldview. You just need to tell your story. Why do you follow Jesus? What has He done in your life? What difference has He made?

In 1 Peter 3:15, we’re told to “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” That doesn’t mean you need to be an expert — it means you need to be honest.

You can say:

  • “I used to be lost, but Jesus gave me direction.”
  • “I was stuck in shame, but Jesus brought me freedom.”
  • “I still struggle, but now I have hope.”

Your personal story may be the exact thing someone else needs to hear. Don’t wait until you feel qualified — your testimony carries more power than you realise.

Evangelism isn’t an event. It’s a lifestyle. It’s not about being perfect — it’s about being present, available, and bold in the ordinary spaces of your life.

If you belong to Jesus, you’re on mission. There’s no opt-out clause. Every day, every interaction, every moment is an opportunity to live in a way that makes people curious about the God you serve.

So walk out your faith, speak up when prompted, and trust that God is using you — not because you have all the answers, but because you said yes.

The Power of Discipline in our Journey to Lasting Joy

Chude Obuaya
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The Power of Discipline in our Journey to Lasting Joy

Discipline is a skill we all know we need, yet we often struggle to put it into practice. You often hear people complain about the fact that they have a long list of unfinished tasks, ideas, or projects due to their lack of discipline. As Christians, we know the Bible calls us to be disciplined, especially in our fight against sin. The question is, do we make it even harder by how we think about or frame discipline?

Discipline over Emotions

Emotions are good. God gave humans emotions. Emotions are a gift from God that allow us to engage deeply with the world. Imagine how dull life would be if we could not experience it emotionally! Yet with our emotions come desires, and most people usually do not like doing things that they do not want to do or feel like doing. We often seek immediate satisfaction, but discipline rarely gives us instant satisfaction. Instead, we usually have to wait to see the fruit that discipline produces. This can lead to frustration. In 1 Corinthians 9:24-27, the Apostle Paul likens the Christian’s life of discipline to an athlete’s training regimen, both seeking to attain a prize. uses the analogy of an athlete exercising discipline so that they can achieve a prize. Paul writes: “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it” (v. 24). Athletes understand that only one person can take the gold medal, so they all must train with an intensity and dedication to put them in the position to achieve the gold. This requires consistent effort and commitment, keeping the goal in mind, regardless of how they may feel on any given day.

Strive for eternal Joy

Discipline kills our drive for immediate gratification. Much like an athlete who trains for months before a competition; the Christian must also train and prepare themselves for the day they meet Jesus. Scripture urges us to “strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14). The Christian life involves struggle, grit and discipline, and part of the challenge is that we rarely see immediate rewards. Meanwhile, sin promises that instant satisfaction and deceives us with its allure. However, Paul reminds us that we are pursuing an imperishable prize (1 Corinthians 9:25). If athletes can practice rigorous discipline for a temporary prize, how much more should we do so for an eternal one?

Changing our Perspective of Discipline

The lie of Satan and the world is that we should only do what makes us happy. But such fleeting happiness eventually fades, leaving us constantly chasing the next high. In contrast, when we discipline ourselves by putting to death the deeds of the flesh and clothing ourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ (Colossians 3:5-10, Romans 13:13-14), we gain a treasure that endures forever (1 Corinthians 9:25).

Discipline is rarely enjoyable in the moment. Whether it’s seeing the gains of working out, saving for a house or pursuing holiness, the benefits can seem slow to appear. However, if we change our perspective and see discipline not as a barrier to joy but as the pathway to joy, we begin to appreciate the lessons we learn along the way to our prize.

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