commentary by TA York

Part 1: The Midnight Rebel of the Sanhedrin

Anyone who has read the Bible has likely encountered the word Pharisee. But who exactly were they?

The Pharisees were the elite, highly educated class of their day. They spent lifetimes studying the Torah and the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible), mastering every nuance of Jewish religious law. They were the gatekeepers of tradition, institutional power, and societal morality.

Enter Nicodemus. He wasn’t just any Pharisee; he was a ruler of the Jews, a prominent member of the Sanhedrin—the high council.

John 3:1-2 – “Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. ² He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.”

Many commentators suggest Nicodemus came at night purely out of fear, or that he was executing an official investigation into Jesus’s miracles. But code and custom tell a different story. According to rabbinic traditions of the era, an official theological investigation required at least two Pharisees to ensure legal validity. Showing up entirely alone, and under the cover of darkness, was a massive breach of official protocol.

This wasn’t a corporate audit; it was a deeply personal rescue mission. Nicodemus deliberately left his peers behind because he didn’t want to be hindered, managed, or judged by the Sanhedrin. He had burning, private questions that the system couldn’t answer.

To put this into perspective, imagine Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy during the American Civil War, quietly crossing enemy lines at midnight to ask President Abraham Lincoln for military strategy or personal advice. On paper, it makes absolutely no sense. They were on completely opposing sides of an ideological war.

Nicodemus’s late-night visit reveals a man experiencing a profound crisis of faith. Was he wrestling with reservations about his own religion? What were the fears eating away at his mind? What was he truly searching for? One thing is glaringly obvious: first-century Judaism was no longer providing the satisfaction, meaning, and peace his soul desperately required.

Part 2: The High Cost of Loneliness and Empty Religion

The stakes could not have been higher for Nicodemus. As a member of the ruling council, his entire livelihood, social reputation, and financial security were directly tied to the Jewish religious establishment. If he were caught fraternizing with this radical Galilean rabbi, he faced public shaming, social ruin, and instant expulsion from the Sanhedrin.

Yet, when you are completely empty inside and you hear of something truly miraculous happening nearby, a powerful human instinct takes over: Can this change my life?

Religion without results is a dry, barren desert. Try as it might, performance-driven rituals cannot sustain a hungry soul.

Nicodemus spent his life teaching a system of works-based righteousness, but working for your salvation leaves you perpetually uneasy. It creates a constant, low-lying anxiety because you are never quite sure if you measure up.

Worse yet, trying to teach something you no longer fully believe in makes religion feel doubly dead. That is exactly what Nicodemus was facing. He was reaching out into the dark for anything to renew his faith and revive his dying spirit.

Part 3: The Flattery and the Pivot

When Nicodemus finally speaks, his opening words betray his internal conflict:

John 3:2 – “He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.”

Nicodemus begins with immense courtesy, calling Jesus “Rabbi” and offering high praise. He is essentially saying, “Tell me something, show me something, help me feel that God is still real.” He starts the conversation on friendly, honoring terms.

But it makes you wonder: if Nicodemus had confronted Jesus during the bright light of day in front of his elite peers, would he have spoken this way? Probably not. His friendly, deferential attitude was driven by an underlying motive—a desperate, hidden hunger.

A famous preacher once captured this tension perfectly:

“Allow dead preachers to preach to the dead. I want to preach to the living.”

Nicodemus was surrounded by spiritual death and dry, institutional prose. He was looking for vibrant life and genuine revival, and he found himself sitting right across from the Source.

Jesus, seeing past the polite small talk, instantly bypasses the flattery and strikes at the heart of the matter:

John 3:3 – “Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

In the original Greek text, the word translated as “see” (eidon) goes far beyond physical sight. It means to comprehend, to understand, to perceive, or to truly catch the meaning of something. Jesus was telling this brilliant scholar that no amount of human education could help him comprehend the movement of God.

Part 4: The Confusion of the Flesh vs. The Life of the Spirit

This statement completely derailed Nicodemus’s highly structured, theological mind. The concept of spiritual rebirth was utterly unheard of in his world.

John 3:4-7 – ““How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!” ⁵ Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. ⁶ Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. ⁷ You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born again.’

Nicodemus could only think in physical, material terms—literally wondering about a grown man re-entering his mother’s womb. But Jesus clarifies a foundational truth: only a spiritual birth can yield spiritual understanding.

A natural birth gives you a human mind, complete with all its natural limitations, faults, and blind spots. When Jesus speaks of being “born of water,” he points directly to the source of cleansing and purification found in the old customs of Judaism—the ceremonial washings detailed throughout different Old Testament books (ex. Ezk 36:25-27). Nicodemus knew all about water purification; it was the bedrock of his religious routine.

But Jesus pairs water with the Spirit.

A spiritual birth is a supernatural act performed exclusively by the Holy Spirit. It injects divine life into the human spirit, bringing immediate clarity, true revival, and a vibrant understanding of Scripture. It takes dry, imaginative, theoretical theology—the very thing suffocating Nicodemus—and instantly restores, heals, and captures the human heart for a real, living Heaven.

Imagine the look on Nicodemus’s face when Jesus looked him in the eye and said, “Do not be surprised… you MUST be born again.” It was a total shock to his system.

Part 5: Like the Wind

Jesus concludes this brilliant midnight discourse with a profound natural analogy:

John 3:8 – “ The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

In Greek, the word for wind is pneuma, which translates beautifully to “breath” or “spirit.”

Aspect	The Wind	The Holy Spirit
Sovereignty	Blows completely as it pleases	Operates freely, beyond human control or institutional systems
Evidence	You can clearly hear and see its effects	You witness transformed lives, sudden peace, and true revival
Origin / Destiny	You cannot trace where it started or where it ends	Its deep workings are a divine mystery to the natural mind

Nicodemus, the meticulous legal scholar, wanted a formula he could control, predict, and measure. But Jesus shattered that paradigm. As the third person of the Godhead, the Holy Spirit moves according to His own divine pleasure.

You cannot manufacture Him with religious rituals, and you cannot cage Him in a temple. But as a believer, you can absolutely hear His whisper. “So it is with everyone born of the Spirit” points directly to a life of ongoing intimacy, supernatural guidance, and daily direction.

Jesus didn’t offer Nicodemus a new set of rules to memorize. He offered him a relationship with a living God—a complete, inside-out transformation that satisfies the heart, body, and soul like nothing else on earth.

God Bless!

by TA York

The Mystery of the Second Mile: What It Truly Means to Be Chosen

Introduction: The Hidden Gem of the Kingdom

We live in a generation of believers who desperately want to be chosen. If you walk into almost any church today or browse through Christian social media, you will find an overwhelming desire for distinction. We love the idea of being set apart, anointed, and selected by God for something great. Many believers readily consider themselves part of this exclusive group, pointing to their blessings, their talents, or their positions in ministry as proof.

But scripture gives us a sobering reality check. In Matthew 22:14, Jesus utters words that should make every believer pause: “Many are called, but few are chosen.”

If many receive the invitation, what is it that separates the few who are chosen from the many who are simply called?

For a long time, I wrestled with this question. I looked at the landscape of modern Christianity and wondered what the true, undeniable marker of a “chosen” life looks like. Through prayer, study, and a few painful personal trials, the Holy Spirit pulled back the curtain and showed me a hidden gem tucked away in the Gospel of Matthew.

The secret isn’t found in a grand title, a massive platform, or a life free of trouble. Instead, the sign of being chosen by God is found in a dusty, exhausting, and completely voluntary place: the second mile.

Let’s look at the foundational text that changes everything about how we view kingdom service, obedience, and spiritual maturity.

Matthew 5:41-45

“If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”

The History: The Law of the Oppressor

To understand the radical weight of what Jesus is saying, we have to step out of our modern comfort zones and place ourselves in the sandals of a first-century Israelite.

During the time of Christ’s earthly ministry, Israel was under brutal Roman occupation. The Jewish people were not free; they lived under the iron fist of an empire that despised their culture, their religion, and their traditions. To make matters worse, Roman law granted occupying soldiers a specific, infuriating right known as impressment.

Under this law, a Roman soldier could stop any civilian on the street, point to his heavy military pack—which often weighed upwards of 60 to 80 pounds—and command them to carry it. By law, the civilian was legally obligated to carry that burden for exactly one Roman mile (roughly 1,000 paces).

Imagine how a person feels about laws handed down from their oppressors. Think about a time in your own life when you felt unjustly treated, overlooked, or oppressed by an authority figure, a boss, or a broken system. What was your internal attitude toward that person or institution? Did you want to go out of your way to make their life easier? Would you willingly carry their baggage?

Absolutely not. Human nature rebels against forced subjugation.

The Israelites despised this law. Carrying that Roman pack was a public humiliation. It was a physical reminder that they were conquered, weak, and powerless. Most of the time, the Israelites complied with this law begrudgingly. They did it because they had to, not because they wanted to. They walked that single mile in bitter silence, counting down every single pace, staring at the dirt, wishing down curses upon the soldier walking beside them. They did the absolute bare minimum required to avoid imprisonment or execution, never thinking about future consequences, and certainly never looking at the soldier as a human being.

It was into this atmosphere of deep-seated resentment and political tension that Jesus delivered the Sermon on the Mount.

Can you imagine the groans that must have rippled through the twelve disciples when Jesus brought up the second mile? I can almost hear Peter, Andrew, and the others whispering in disbelief: “Jesus, do you not remember what the Romans have done to us? Do you forget the heavy taxes? The public floggings? The constant put-downs? They steal our land and our dignity, and now You want us to serve them even more? You want us to voluntarily do extra labor for these ungrateful, abusive people?”

And with perfect clarity, Jesus answers: Yes. Serve those who unrightfully abuse you. Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.

My Example: When the First Mile Feels Like Too Much

It is easy to preach about the second mile when it is just a historical story. It is a completely different matter when God asks you to live it out in your own living room.

A few years ago, I reached a milestone that I had anticipated for a very long time: retirement. I had been retired for about a year, and honestly, I was living my dream. I was writing, pouring myself into full-time ministry, and spending my days exactly how I wanted to. I felt like I had run my race, paid my dues, and earned the right to step back from the grind of the secular workforce.

But then, reality hit.

Because of shifting economic landscapes and unexpected expenses, I found myself running out of money every single week. The numbers simply didn’t add up anymore. I looked at the budget, and I realized I was faced with a gut-wrenching decision. To keep my family in the standard of living they were used to, and to ensure my boys didn’t have to quit school to go to work, something had to change.

I needed to bring in extra income.

I did not want to carry this burden. I fought the idea every single step of the way. I complained to God in my prayer time, letting Him know exactly how unfair I thought the situation was. “Lord, why at my age, and with my health conditions, should I have to go back to work again? Haven’t I served You? Haven’t I given my life to ministry? Why am I being forced back into the workforce?”

Shortly after, a door opened. It wasn’t a glamorous position, and the hours were terrible: a graveyard shift, two days a week. Graveyard. Yuck. Every part of my flesh recoiled at the idea of staying up all night, disrupting my sleep schedule, and trading my peaceful retirement for a taxing night job.

But as I looked at my family, I knew they needed me to step up. I made a choice. I decided to suck it up, swallow my pride, and do what needed to be done.

When I first walked onto that job, I was operating strictly in “first mile” territory. I was doing it out of obligation. I was doing it because I had to. But as I surrendered my resentment and started doing the work, something supernatural happened. I didn’t find misery; instead, I found a deep sense of pleasure in the labor and a profound, quiet peace that only God can give. The graveyard shift, which I had dreaded, became a sanctuary of quietness where I could commune with the Lord.

Then came the confirmation. When we sat down to look at the finances, we discovered an undeniable sign that God’s hand was in the middle of this trial. The amount of money I earned from this new part-time job was the exact amount of money we had recently lost from our ministry support funds. Not a dollar less, not a dollar more. God hadn’t abandoned me; He had simply packaged His provision in the form of a heavy pack I didn’t want to carry.

Through that experience, the Holy Spirit taught me a vital lesson about the economy of the Kingdom: The first mile is for the norm.

Every believer is expected to go the first mile, whether they do it willingly or not. The first mile represents standard practice, basic responsibility, and general obedience. We can all hit the “first mile” of following Jesus. We pay our tithes, we go to church, we take care of our families, and we do what duty demands of us.

But the first mile doesn’t change the world. It doesn’t transform hearts. It is just the baseline. It is in the second mile where everything changes.

The Power of the Second Mile: Where Hearts Melt

What happens when a believer chooses to walk a second mile? Let’s map out what that looks like in the spiritual realm, and even in the natural world.

Picture that Roman soldier again. He has stopped a Jewish man, forced him to take his heavy pack, and they have walked the legal limit of one mile. They reach the stone marker on the side of the road. The soldier expects the man to drop the bag in the dirt, spit on the ground, and walk away with hatred in his eyes. That is what happens every single day.

But instead, the believer keeps walking. He keeps the pack securely on his shoulders and takes step 1,001. Then step 1,002.

The second mile is where the Roman soldier starts feeling a strange mixture of remorse, confusion, and guilt. The script has been completely flipped. The oppressor is no longer in control; the servant has taken dominion through love.

Let’s imagine the conversation that takes place on that extra stretch of road:

Roman Soldier: (Confused, stopping in his tracks) “Wait a minute. Look down. We just passed the milestone. That’s the second mile. Let me take back my pack now.”

The Believer: (Smiling, adjusting the straps) “It’s alright. Let me carry it another mile for you.”

Roman Soldier: “But… but you don’t have to. The law says you’re done. I can’t force you anymore.”

The Believer: “I know you can’t force me. I want to do it.”

Roman Soldier: (Squinting, suspicious) “Why would you do that? Why would you carry this for me?”

The Believer: “Because I want to help my friend.”

Roman Soldier: (Laughing nervously) “Are we friends? I don’t even know you. I’m a Roman. I literally demanded that you help me. I ordered you around.”

The Believer: “We can become friends. Tell me your story. Tell me about your family back in Rome, your traditions, and what keeps you up at night. Let’s talk while we walk together this second mile.”

Do you see the spiritual authority shifting in that interaction? The first mile was ruled by law, duty, and resentment. The second mile is ruled by grace, relationship, and transformation.

The second mile is where the hearts of both the oppressed and the oppressor are radically altered. A holy quietness occurs in the second mile.

When you choose to go beyond what is required of you—when you love the person who slighted you, when you serve the boss who overlooked you, when you put in extra effort for a family that doesn’t seem to appreciate it—something breaks in the spiritual realm.

• Endurance and Long-suffering are built on the second mile. You don’t develop spiritual muscles by doing what is easy; you develop them by carrying weight further than anyone expected you to.
• True Supernatural Love is built on the second mile. Anyone can love those who love them. Even the world does that. But loving an enemy requires the very processing power of the Holy Spirit inside you.
• Patience is perfected there.
• A Tangible Nearness to God is felt there.

Let’s be honest: the second mile is not a fun thing. It is exhausting, it requires dying to your flesh, and it will cost you your right to complain. But it is the ultimate growth test for a citizen of Heaven. For the believer, becoming genuinely like Jesus Christ only happens when we cross the boundary line of the first mile and step into the second.

Conclusion: What Is Your Second Mile?

This brings us back to our opening truth. Many are called to the first mile. The crowds will follow Jesus when things are comfortable, or when obedience aligns with what they were already planning to do. But the chosen are those who allow the Holy Spirit to guide them into the second mile.

The chosen are those who don’t just settle for standard practice. They are the ones who look at their enemies and see an opportunity for evangelism. They look at their hardships not as a punishment, but as a classroom for character development. They are the ones who, when forced by life, economy, or difficult people to carry a heavy burden, look up to heaven and say, “Lord, if this is where You want me, I will carry it an extra mile for Your glory.”

God is looking for second-mile Christians. He is looking for men and women who reflect His character. Remember what Jesus said in verse 45: God causes His sun to rise on both the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. God gives grace abundantly, far beyond what humanity deserves. When we walk the second mile, we prove that we are true children of our Father in Heaven.

So, as you close this article and go about your week, I have to ask you a searching question:

What is your second mile right now?

Is it a difficult job that you need to stop complaining about and start sanctifying with your attitude? Is it a broken relationship where you need to extend forgiveness, even though the other person hasn’t apologized? Is it an act of service that no one will ever see or thank you for?

Stop fighting the first mile. Step into the second. That is where you will find the quietness of God, that is where your character will grow, and that is where you will discover what it truly means to be chosen.

God bless you on the journey.

by TA York

The First Commandment of Hearing.

We often view the Ten Commandments as a static list of rules carved into stone. But if we skip straight to the prohibitions, we miss the most vital part of the entire passage.

Take a look at how Exodus 20 begins:

And God spoke all these words, saying: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.” (Exodus 20:1-2)

Verse one is arguably the most important sentence in the text. Without it, the commandments that follow lose their foundation.

The crucial takeaway here is simple yet profound: God spoke.

What do you do when a person of absolute authority speaks? You don’t just nod and move on. You stop, listen, and comprehend. It forces us to ask ourselves: Who is God to you? Is He worth listening to? What is the purpose of our listening?

Learning the Hard Way

I remember what happened when I didn’t listen to my own father growing up. There were immediate consequences—scoldings, discipline, and various forms of correction. I imagine many of you have similar memories of your own parents.

Eventually, I learned a lesson the hard way (many times over, to be honest): Listen the first time.

Ultimately, that discipline bore good fruit. Learning to listen to authority built a strong work ethic in me and instilled a willingness to go the extra mile.

In the original Hebrew, the word used for “spoke” implies a declaration made with absolute authority. God wasn’t making a casual suggestion to the Israelites; He was declaring truth. He expected them to listen not just with their ears, but with their hearts.

Rescue Before Rules

Biblical morality is never about earning God’s love; it is our response to already being loved and rescued.

God does not say, “Obey me, and then I will rescue you.” Instead, He says, “I have already rescued you. Therefore, here is how we are going to live together.”

The Ten Commandments are not a license for rigid legalism. They are a roadmap for how to love.

We see this same emphasis on listening throughout Scripture, most notably in the Shema (found in Deuteronomy 6:4 and referenced throughout Jewish tradition). In the ancient Near East, life was fragmented. People prayed to one god for rain, another for fertility, and a different one for war.

But the Shema cuts through that noise: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.”

The author entreats the reader to listen closely. It defines God’s unique identity before launching into the command to love Him with all our heart, soul, and strength. Faithful Israelites prayed this twice a day as a constant, urgent reminder to listen.

Why Do We Need Constant Reminders?

Why is Scripture so repetitive about this? Because humans have a strange habit—and I am absolutely included in this—of drifting away.

As a father, I know this cycle all too well:

• Me: “Did you take out the trash?”
• Child: “Oh, I forgot.”
• Me: “Please do it now.”
• Child: “Just give me five minutes to finish this game.”
• An hour later: “Take out the trash.”
• Child: “Oh, I forgot!”

If our kids do this over simple chores, can we really blame God the Father for having to repeat Himself to us over and over again?

In the New Testament, Jesus addresses this exact human tendency. In Luke 11:27-28, a woman in the crowd calls out, “Blessed is the mother who gave you birth and nursed you.”

Jesus pivots her statement immediately: “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.”

Jesus links hearing and obeying directly to blessing. But how exactly does He bless us? Ephesians 1:3-4 gives us the answer:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.”

This means we can experience a deep, supernatural peace in our souls, even when the enemy attacks from all sides. Have you ever felt that kind of love before? A calm assurance in the middle of terrible circumstances? That is the fruit of a life tuned into God’s voice.

Cutting Through the Cultural Noise

God is constantly speaking to us, yet we have to ask: Are we listening? Where are our priorities? Have we fully surrendered to Him, or are we still compromising with the world?

When we press into the bosom of Christ and fall deeply in love with Him, obedience stops feeling like a chore. It becomes a willing, joyful response. Jesus broke our chains and brought us out of modern-day Egypt. Because of His sacrifice, we owe Him our everlasting loyalty. We even owe Him the spiritual legacy we pass down to our children. Isn’t the King of Glory worth listening to?

Unfortunately, modern society is meticulously designed to break your focus. We are bombarded by constant digital distractions and cultural noise. With a split focus, it is impossible to hear the “voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” We can’t even understand the Bible properly when the volume of the world is turned all the way up.

My dad used to tell me, “There are two ways to learn: the easy way and the hard way. Which one do you choose?”

The Bible, the wisdom of our elders, and an adherence to Scripture represent the easy way. Walking down any other path makes life incredibly hard.

God is speaking. Is His Word going in one ear and out the other? Are we treating the Bible like a casual novel, or are we treating it like what it truly is—an instruction manual and a lifeline to heaven?

Through Jesus’ suffering, our bondages are broken and our place in heaven is secure. In return, He deserves our absolute attention, love, and loyalty. No one else lines up.

He deserves it. So let’s lean in… and listen.

God bless.

by TA York

We love to look for patterns in life. If you study the first chapter of the Gospel of John, a very clear three-part pattern emerges:

• Verses 1–18: We learn who Jesus is.
• Verses 19–42: We learn who we are (or who we can be).
• Verses 43–51: We find the most critical piece of the puzzle—following Jesus.

But before we dive into the theology of John 1, let me take you back to when I was 19 years old.

3,500 Feet and a Leap of Faith

When I was 19, I was a bit of an extremist. I also happened to be terrified of heights. So, naturally, I decided the best way to handle that fear was to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.

After a brief training period, our group headed out to a small landing strip. We piled into the plane, sitting directly on the floor. To make exits easier, the double doors of the aircraft had been completely removed. As the plane took off and circled higher and higher, it would bank left, giving us a direct, unfiltered view of the ground below.

My heart began to race, pounding violently against my chest. Are these my last moments on earth? I wondered. After all, I was about to put my absolute trust in some nylon cloth, a few strings, and air—elements I couldn’t even see.

When we reached 3,500 feet, the jumpmaster took my static line (the cord that automatically deploys the parachute) and hooked it to the U-bolt on the floor of the plane.

Then came the words: “Get ready.”

I scooted over to the open doorway and forced my legs out into the wind. They were instantly whipped backward toward the tail of the plane. My life flashed before my eyes. My heart was sprinting, and my breath came in short, panicked bursts. I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

Suddenly, the jumpmaster tapped my shoulder—the go signal. I screamed and threw myself out of the aircraft (which, by the way, is exactly what you are not supposed to do).

As I counted down, I felt the chute deploy. My legs swung up, and the deployment sleeve neatly settled into place, keeping the lines from tangling. I reached up and grabbed the steering toggles.

Did I suddenly feel safe because the chute was open and I was floating? Absolutely not. My life was still hanging by a contraption I knew very little about. A voice in my head kept whispering, What if I just fall right through this thing?

Then I remembered the jumpmaster’s advice: “If you want to have some fun, let go of one toggle and pull the other down to your waist.”

I tried it. It was the strangest sensation—the entire world began spinning around me, while I felt perfectly still. In skydiving, they call that a corkscrew.

Against all my fears, I made it to the ground alive.

Part 1: Discovering Who Jesus Is

My terrifying leap reminds me of the journey laid out in John chapter 1.

In the first third of the chapter, we learn the truth about who Jesus is. When a person truly discovers Christ, repentance is usually right around the corner. Who in their right mind would deny an offer of heaven from God Himself? Only a fool.

Once we accept that truth, the faith journey begins. The door opens, and we step through it.

Part 2: Discovering Who We Are

This leads us directly into the second theme of the chapter: Who are we?

This has been the defining question of humanity since the beginning of time. When people lack a true identity, they often turn to things that manufacture a false one: drugs, alcohol, violence, sex, money, or fame.

The worldly mass media encourages a false identity. TV, games, etc. that spew out garbage of what a man and a woman should be.

In John 1, the Levites approach John the Baptist and ask him point-blank: “Who are you?”

It’s the ultimate conversation starter. The world loves to talk about itself. We measure each other by our titles—doctor, lawyer, executive. We value people based on their college major, their job description, or their level of worldly importance.

Yet, John the Baptist had discovered a profound reality. His response was essentially, “I am nothing! Jesus is ‘I AM’.”

Here is the secret: when a person finds Jesus, they find the grandest identity available in this life. They found themselves through Jesus. No misunderstanding, countless people have finally found themselves only after they surrendered to Christ.

Part 3: The Call to Follow

Finally, we reach the third theme: following Jesus.

The next day Jesus decided to leave for Galilee. Finding Philip, he said to him, “Follow me.” (John 1:43)

Jesus went out of His way to find Philip. For Philip, this direct invitation was deeply appealing. His heart was likely already prepared for that “tap on the shoulder.”

But imagine if Jesus had given Philip a realistic preview of what that choice would cost him. Imagine if He said, “Well, Philip, you’re going to travel to a Greek city in modern-day Turkey, where you and a fellow apostle will be tortured, stoned, and crucified upside down. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Anyway, follow me.”

In the original Greek text, the phrase “follow me” in verse 43 implies a continuous action: keep following me, and do not stop.

When you follow Jesus, you don’t get to pull over for ice cream. If Jesus turns right, you don’t get to turn left. You can’t speed past Him and say, “I know the way, Jesus, you follow me!” Following Him requires complete, radical obedience. And fortunately, He left us a travel guide: the Bible.

Shortly after his own call, Philip found Nathanael and invited him into the story with three simple words: “Come and see.”

Nathanael was skeptical. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” he asked. But he was also sincere in his search for truth. When Jesus saw him approaching, He gave Nathanael the surprise of his life: “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

Astonished, Nathanael asked, “How do you know me?”

Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree…”

Worth the Risk

Do you realize that Jesus sees you, too?

He sees us in the moments we question Him. He sees us in the moments we fail. Yet, our God has promised never to leave us or forsake us.

So why do we doubt Him? Why do we routinely place more faith in the “string, cloth, and air” of this world than we do in the Creator of the universe?

Years ago, I risked my life jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, trusting a piece of fabric to save me. Today, I place my life into the hands of Jesus Christ. The stakes are much higher, but He is an identity, a purpose, and a Savior truly worth living—and dying—for.

God bless.

by TA York

The Fragile Gift of Words:

What is the true purpose of language? Is it merely to express our feelings, share our lives, and bring a sense of harmony to one another?

To understand its weight, imagine what would happen if you took language away entirely.

Picture seeing someone you are deeply attracted to—how would you get their attention? How would a man ask for a woman’s hand in marriage? How would we develop technology, collaborate to build homes, or even learn to grow food? What would our thoughts even sound like? Most importantly, how would we pray and communicate with God?

Imagine a world without words. No lullabies, no “baby talk,” and no soothing whispers from a mother to her newborn.

In the 13th century, the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II set out to create exactly that. Driven by an intense, borderline obsessive scientific curiosity, he conducted what is now remembered as one of the most infamous—and cruel—psychological experiments in human history: The Language Deprivation Experiment.

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The Monarch and the Silent Nursery

Frederick II was not your average medieval monarch. Nicknamed Stupor Mundi (“The Wonder of the World”), he was a polyglot, a scientist, a skeptic, and a man centuries ahead of his time in terms of empirical inquiry—yet entirely untethered by modern ethics.

According to the chronicler Salimbene di Adam, Frederick wanted to know what language children would speak if they grew up without ever hearing a single spoken word. In the medieval mind, language, identity, and the Divine were inextricably linked. This wasn’t just a linguistic quest; it was a direct, dangerous probe into the origins of speech, the nature of the soul, and the literal truth of the Bible. His goal was to uncover the “natural,”uncorrupted language of humanity.

To achieve this, infants were taken from their mothers at birth. Nuns and nurses were instructed to care for the babies’ physical needs—bathing and feeding them perfectly—but they were strictly forbidden from speaking or cooing to them.

These children grew up facing only stoic, expressionless faces. There was no laughter, no sound, and no shared emotion. Their environment was a vacuum of absolute linguistic silence.

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The Tragic Result: The Silence of Death

Frederick’s hypothesis was that the human mind possessed a built-in linguistic default setting. He expected that once the children reached speaking age, the “original” language of humanity would spontaneously flow from their mouths. He waited to hear Hebrew, or perhaps Latin.

Instead, the experiment yielded a dark, tragic truth.

The children never spoke Hebrew. They never spoke Latin. In fact, they never spoke at all.

“But he laboured in vain, because the children all died,” Salimbene wrote. “For they could not live without the petting and joyful faces and loving words of their foster-mothers.”

Modern science now recognizes what Frederick inadvertently proved: severe emotional neglect and a lack of sensory and linguistic stimulation lead to “failure to thrive” and, ultimately, death. Human babies do not just need milk and warmth to survive; they need connection, touch, and language.

Without love and communication, the human spirit simply breaks.

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The Biblical Connection: Eden and Babel

Why was Frederick so obsessed with finding this root language? To understand his motivation, we have to look at the Book of Genesis.

1. The Primordial Language of Eden

Before the Fall of Man, Adam and Eve walked intimately with God. According to Genesis 2:19, God brought the animals to Adam “to see what he would call them.” Whatever Adam named them became their name.

For centuries, theologians argued over what language Adam spoke, with many believing Hebrew was the original, holy tongue through which God spoke the universe into existence. By stripping away human culture, Frederick believed he could bypass the “corruption” of history and tap back into the pristine, pre-Fall language of Eden.

2. The Shadow of the Tower of Babel

The second connection is the story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11). Scripture tells us that the post-flood world “had one language and a common speech.” When humanity proudly attempted to build a tower to the heavens, God intervened:

“Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.” (Genesis 11:7)

Babel explains why our earth is fractured into thousands of languages. Frederick II’s experiment was essentially an attempt to reverse-engineer Babel. He wanted to bypass God’s judgment, cut through the linguistic confusion, and rediscover the singular, unifying language of early humanity.

Yet, for man to undo what God has done is an impossibility. In trying to isolate the language of the soul, Frederick II only proved that the human soul cannot exist in a vacuum.

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The Echoes of Silence

Language is not an innate piece of software waiting to boot up in isolation; it is a vital social lifeline.

Even when spoken words are absent, humanity finds a way to connect. As someone who used to translate American Sign Language (ASL), I have seen firsthand how beautiful and expressive non-spoken language can be. Deaf individuals communicate profoundly through their hands, expressions, and posture. The drive to connect is irrepressible.

Without language, even our internal minds suffer. A study published by the National Library of Medicine highlights how a lack of language severely impairs memory and reasoning. I recall a person once describing their experience before learning to communicate: “I had no memory of things before I was taught to speak. Just fog…”

The Bible presents language as a sacred gift from God, used to create, to name, and to connect. When Frederick tried to isolate that gift from human love and community, the system collapsed. The babies didn’t speak the language of God; instead, they returned to the silence from which they came.

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The True Purpose of Language

If language is a gift, how are we meant to use it? Scripture gives us a clear directive:

• To Praise His Faithfulness:

“I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations…” (Psalm 89:1-4)

• To Spread the Gospel:

He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.” (Mark 16:15)

• To Maintain Fellowship with the Creator:

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Our true, ultimate purpose with language is to praise and worship the living God of heaven and earth. It is to pray without ceasing and to share the transformative gospel of Jesus Christ.

Let us fill our mouths with praise for the One who gave us the gift of words. Use your voice to build up, to love, and to do good things.

God bless.