Loving Jesus and Bible Reading

Is it possible to love Jesus and still find the Bible hard to read?

That’s a question I’ve been pondering lately—especially after seeing this quote floating around social media:

“A huge sign you lost the fire for Jesus is the Bible will be a chore to read.”

—Brent Williamson

At first glance, it might sound profound. But the more I sit with it, the more I realize how unhelpful—and even harmful—statements like this can be.

Let me be honest: I hate this kind of thinking. 

Not because I doubt the speaker’s sincerity, but because it paints a misleading picture of spiritual formation. It suggests that if Bible reading feels like work, then something must be wrong with your faith. 

But the reality is, there are parts of Scripture that are a chore to read. They’re hard to understand. They demand focus and effort. That doesn’t mean your fire has gone out—it might just mean you’re normal.

In fact, it might mean you’re growing.

Discipline, Not Just Emotion

Reading the Bible is a spiritual discipline. That word—discipline—implies something that takes effort, not just emotion. Our flesh resists it. The world distracts us from it. But out of love for Jesus and a desire to follow Him, we show up anyway. 

And that’s exactly what maturity looks like: showing up, even when the feelings aren’t there.

Think about the rest of your life. Doing the dishes isn’t thrilling, but you do it because you love your family. Folding laundry doesn’t light your soul on fire, but it’s an act of care. Likewise, opening your Bible when it feels hard or dry is an act of devotion. It’s a quiet “yes” to Jesus. It’s faith expressed through perseverance.

If anything, reading the Bible when it feels like a chore might be one of the clearest signs that your love for Jesus is real. Because you’re not doing it for a spiritual high. You’re doing it because He’s worth it.

Faith Isn’t Just a Feeling

One of the biggest traps we fall into is evaluating our faith based on how we feel. But faith is revealed not just by emotion—it’s revealed by action. Your commitment to read, study, and meditate on Scripture, even when it’s tough, is a beautiful expression of love and trust. Feelings matter, but they’re not the foundation. Obedience is.

This doesn’t mean Bible reading should always feel like a chore. There will be times when the words leap off the page and speak directly to your heart. But when those moments don’t come, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’re in a different part of the journey.

Remember: The Bible Was Written For Us, Not To Us

Part of what makes Scripture challenging is that it wasn’t originally written to us. It was written to people in a particular time, place, language, and culture. That means we have to work to understand it. 

Some passages don’t translate easily. 

Some metaphors don’t land clearly.

 But that doesn’t make them irrelevant—it just means they require effort.

Studying the Bible takes patience, humility, and the help of the Holy Spirit. It also helps to use resources—study Bibles, commentaries, and small groups—that bridge the gap between our world and the world of the text. That’s not unspiritual—that’s faithful study.

Fire Is Good, But Faithfulness Is Better

So let’s stop guilting people for struggling with spiritual disciplines. Let’s stop acting like feelings are the only evidence of faith. 

Let’s celebrate the quiet, faithful decisions people make each day to follow Jesus—even when it’s hard.

Fire is good. But faithfulness is better.

Reflection Questions:

1. Have you ever felt guilty for not enjoying Bible reading? Where does that pressure come from?
2. What helps you stay committed to Scripture when your emotions aren’t cooperating?
3. How can you encourage others who feel stuck or discouraged in their spiritual disciplines?

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Comforted

Finding Comfort in a Restless World 

A recent survey of 2,000 Americans revealed something striking: only 21% of people experienced “true comfort” in the past 24 hours. On average, we only feel comfortable for about a third of the day—roughly eight hours. And how do people chase after it? A nap. A walk outside. A spa day. Setting the thermostat to just the right temperature.

The picture is clear: most of the world is looking for temporary comfort in fleeting ways. But Scripture points us to a greater reality. There is a source of lasting, unfailing comfort—our heavenly Father. Unlike naps or spa days, His comfort is not circumstantial.

This is the same theme we saw when walking through Nahum: The Justice and Comfort of God. Nahum 1:7 reminds us, “The Lord is good, a stronghold in a day of distress; he cares for those who take refuge in him.” The question is: How do we experience the comfort of God?

In 2 Corinthians 1:3–7, Paul gives us the answer. His comfort is more than a temporary relief—it equips us to endure, fills us with hope, and enables us to extend comfort to others.

Background: Paul and the Corinthian Church

Paul wrote this letter during a time of both joy and tension. Many believers in Corinth had been restored to fellowship with him, but some still resisted his authority. His purpose was to encourage the faithful majority, call the minority to repentance, and defend the nature of true ministry.

And what is true ministry? Not prestige or power—but faithfulness, endurance, and blessing others, even through suffering. That’s why Paul begins his letter with praise to “the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort” (2 Cor. 1:3).

Three Truths About the Comfort of God

1. The Provision of Comfort (v. 3)

Paul begins with blessing, not complaint. God is the source of compassion and “the God of all comfort.” The Greek word paraklesis speaks not of ease, but of encouragement, consolation, and strength to endure.

God draws near like a parent comforting a child. He comforts us through His Word, through prayer, through the Spirit, and through the church community.

But here’s the challenge: we must be willing to receive His comfort. Too often we isolate in silence. Sometimes God’s comfort comes in the form of a phone call, a text, or a coffee with a friend. Don’t cut yourself off from His provision. 

2. The Purpose of Comfort (vv. 4, 6)

Paul says God comforts us “so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction.” His comfort is never meant to end with us. It’s a conduit, not a cul-de-sac.

Paul’s afflictions—his painful visits, opposition, rejection—resulted in comfort for the Corinthians. Affliction, paradoxically, becomes a channel of blessing when it teaches us how to walk alongside others.

Think of sitting by a fire on a freezing night. The warmth is too good to keep to yourself. You naturally want others to come close. That’s what God intends for our scars and valleys—that they would become testimonies, warming others with the same comfort we’ve received.

3. The Power of Comfort (vv. 5, 7)

Paul reminds us that union with Christ means we will suffer, but we will never suffer without comfort. We do not experience the wrath Christ bore for us, but we do walk in His steps of innocent suffering (1 Pet. 2:21).

God’s comfort is not fragile. It sustains, shapes, and strengthens. Paul could have despaired under persecution, rejection, and prison, but instead he discovered that God’s comfort was stronger than any hardship.

When someone clings to Christ through loss, their testimony has power. Their comfort becomes living proof that God’s promises hold true.


Living This Out 

• Receive God’s Comfort Personally – Don’t rely on temporary comforts alone. Run first to the God of all comfort. 
• Extend God’s Comfort to Others – Be intentional in reaching out, sharing, and encouraging. Don’t hoard what God has given you. 
• Trust the Power of God’s Comfort – His comfort is durable. It carries you and equips you to carry others. 

A Story of Enduring Comfort

In 1962, missionary Alan Redpath suffered a near-fatal stroke that left him partially paralyzed. He later wrote:

“There is nothing—no circumstance, no trouble, no testing—that can ever touch me until first of all it has gone past God and past Christ right through to me. If it has come that far, it has come with a great purpose.”

Redpath’s life became a living testimony of God’s comfort, not because his suffering disappeared, but because God’s strength and mercy carried him through.

Big Idea

God is the Father of mercies. He comforts us, equips us, and calls us to comfort others—so that His love and hope never end with us.

Challenge

This week, ask God to show you the things you tend to run to for comfort. When you feel the pull toward temporary relief, pause and turn instead to the God of all comfort. Then ask Him to show you one person who needs the same comfort you’ve received. Be His vessel of mercy and strength.

Closing Thought

The world offers comfort that fades. But our God offers comfort that endures. Receive it, share it, and let it overflow—because His comfort never runs dry.

Paul’s Ponderings is a blog dedicated to reflecting on Scripture and encouraging believers to live out their faith with love and purpose.

Paul’s Radical Call to Love: Mutual Submission

Have you ever read a Bible passage and thought, That sounds a little outdated—but in the process you missed out on how revolutionary the thought was?

I think that is the case with Ephesians 5:21–33. On the surface, Paul’s words about wives submitting to husbands and husbands loving their wives can sound like they belong in another century. But if we could hear them the way the first Christians in Ephesus did, we would be stunned the new cultural standard the Apostle was setting for this group of Jesus Followers.

Paul wasn’t reinforcing the power structures of his day—he was turning them upside down.

Mutual Submission: A Shock to the System

Paul begins this section with a thought that would have stopped his readers in their tracks:

“Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” (Ephesians 5:21)

In the Roman world, submission was what their culture was built on. We see this hierarchy laid out in the household code that he lays out following this sentence—slaves obeying masters, wives deferring to husbands, children doing exactly what they were told. We need to understand that the idea that everyone in the church should submit to one another was unthinkable.

If we focus on what Paul says about the roles found in marriage, he doesn’t undo them, but he reframes them. Wives are called to trust and respect their husbands “as to the Lord” (v. 22), this was not surprising. Within the larger Roman world, wives were expected to submit to their husbands. Wives submitting to their husbands was not counter cultural.

What was counter cultural is that husbands are called to love their wives “as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her” (v. 25). Paul spends time teaching husbands why this is important, because it was not assumed that husbands would love their wives. The husband’s responsibility was control. The Christian vision of marriage is that of mutual submission, and the way the husband submits to his wife is by loving her well.

It’s like a dance. The wife follows her husband’s lead, but his lead isn’t about control—it’s about sacrifice, like Jesus washing His disciples’ feet or dying on the cross.

Flipping the Household Code

In Paul’s day, philosophers like Aristotle had already written “household codes” explaining how the family should work. These codes always started with the paterfamilias—the male head of the household—who ruled over everyone. Wives, children, and servants were told to obey. The man’s job? Be in charge.

Paul starts in a way that sounds familiar—wives submit, husbands lead—but then he flips the script. Instead of telling husbands to simply “manage” their wives, he commands them to love their wives like Christ loved the church. That means sacrificial, self-emptying love. It means putting her needs ahead of his own. It means putting her needs and desires ahead of your own. It means doing what is best for the family. It means being willing to die for her.

In a culture where the man answered to no one in his household, Paul says: You submit, too. That’s not Aristotle. That’s Jesus. That is a radical and counter cultural teaching that we miss.

Why It Matters Now

We’re far removed from the Roman world, but these words still push against our instincts. Some people get stuck on “wives submit” and miss the weight of “husbands love.” Others bristle at the idea of submission entirely. But when we read Ephesians 5 through the lens of verse 21—mutual submission—it becomes clear: Paul’s vision is about love that gives, not power that takes.

Whether you’re married or not, the principle stands: In Christ, relationships aren’t about control, but about reflecting His humility. We serve each other because He served us first. We submit to one another because He laid down His life for us.

A Challenge

When you think about your relationships—marriage, friendships, church, workplace—what would change if you saw every interaction through the lens of mutual submission?

What if your first question wasn’t “How can I get my way?” but “How can I love like Christ here?”

This week, try it. In the moment when you want to win the argument, control the plan, or make the call—pause. Remember Paul’s words. Choose the path of humility.

Because in the Kingdom of God, greatness isn’t measured by how many people serve you—it’s measured by how willing you are to serve them.

The Importance of Creating a New Culture

I recently revisited Rodney Stark’s book, The Rise of Christianity, which I heard Dr. Mark Moore recommend years ago. Rodney Stark (1934–2022) was a renowned sociologist of religion who served as a professor of sociology and comparative religion at the University of Washington for 32 years before joining Baylor University in 2004 as Distinguished Professor of the Social Sciences and co-director of the Institute for Studies of Religion. A self-proclaimed history buff, Stark combined his sociological expertise with a profound interest in historical analysis. 

Initially, I read the book assuming Stark was not a Christian, as he had described himself in 1987 as “personally incapable of religious faith.” However, I later discovered that by 2007, after joining Baylor, a Baptist university, Stark publicly identified as an “independent Christian.” He explained that he had come to faith through his extensive study of Christian history. Stark clarified that he had never been an atheist but had previously been best described as an agnostic. He consistently maintained a strong commitment to Western civilization, referring to himself as a “cultural Christian.”

The first chapter of The Rise of Christianity, titled “Conversion and Christian Growth,” introduced a concept that challenged my faith journey. Stark employs patterns and ratios to illustrate how Christianity’s growth aligns with sociological trends observed in other religions. This approach, however, makes Christianity appear almost ordinary, which unsettled me because I wanted to believe in its extraordinary growth. Initially, his rational choice theory, which views religious commitment through the lens of costs and benefits, felt too analytical, as though it missed the spiritual depth and uniqueness of the Christian faith.

What I really began to resonate with came in chapters 4 through 7, which shed light on Christianity’s unique nature in the first century and its profound transformation of the Greco-Roman world. These chapters confirmed my core belief that the resurrection of Jesus Christ revolutionized everything, forever altering the course of history. Stark effectively illustrates this through examples of Christianity’s positive influence. Chapter 4 delves into how Christians demonstrated compassion during epidemics, providing care and support to the sick and dying, while pagans often abandoned them. Chapter 5 explores how Christianity elevated the status of women, offering them dignity and community that paganism failed to provide. Chapters 6 and 7 examine how Christianity enhanced urban life, fostering networks of care and mutual support.

Stark concludes chapter 7 with a powerful statement: “For what they brought was not merely an urban movement, but a novel culture capable of enhancing the quality of life in Greco-Roman cities” (p. 162). This phrase, “novel culture,” really spoke to me. Jesus and the early Christians didn’t merely present a new belief system; they introduced a profoundly different way of life. In the diverse cultural tapestry of the Roman Empire, the introduction of a new deity or philosophy wasn’t unique, but a life that fostered hope in resurrection and new creation was revolutionary.

I believe insight holds a crucial lesson for the contemporary Church. Regrettably, the American Church has often prioritized “Christianizing” the existing culture rather than presenting a distinct alternative. Instead of offering a transformative way of life, we provide a diluted version of the world’s values with a Christian facade. The early Church’s example serves as a challenge to us, urging us to establish a new culture rooted in the hope of resurrection and love of Jesus, not merely a slightly modified version of what already exists.

Creating a new culture requires turning away from the old one—and that’s no small task. Many of us have grown too comfortable with a “Christianized” version of the surrounding culture, mimicking the world’s approach to entertainment, politics, and lifestyle while simply adding a layer of faith on top. We want to believe in Jesus, but often stop short of fully surrendering to His way of life. Yet the brokenness around us—evidenced by high rates of divorce, crushing debt, substance abuse, and sexual addiction—reveals a deep hunger for something more meaningful. Tragically, those who profess to follow Christ often reflect the same struggles, blending in with the culture instead of offering a distinct alternative.

Consider 1 Peter 1:17–19: “If you appeal to the Father who judges impartially according to each one’s work, you are to conduct yourselves in reverence during your time living as strangers. For you know that you were redeemed from your empty way of life inherited from your ancestors, not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of an unblemished and spotless lamb.” (CSB) 

Peter says that we have been handed an “empty way of life” from our ancestors. We cannot accept the “way of life” our culture gives to us uncritically, we have to measure it against the Bible. My hope and prayer is that we, as the Church, will recognize this futility and embrace a new way of living—one that demonstrates to the world the hope found in following Jesus.

Rodney Stark’s work, including his later reflections as a Christian, emphasizes this truth. His journey from agnosticism to faith, influenced by years of studying Christianity’s historical impact, reminds us that the evidence of Christ’s transformative power is compelling. Before his passing on July 21, 2022, at his home in Woodway, Texas, Stark continued to challenge assumptions about religion’s role in society. His legacy encourages us to think critically and live boldly as followers of Christ. May we take up the call to create a new culture, demonstrating the world a better way through the hope and love of Jesus.

Embracing Diversity with Humility

Have you ever caught yourself quietly labeling someone—strange, naïve, maybe even immoral—not because they’ve done something truly wrong, but simply because they didn’t do things your way?

It’s funny how quickly it happens. Someone approaches a situation differently than we would, and without thinking, our minds go into silent critique mode: What were they thinking? From there, it’s not a big leap to conclude they’re foolish, misguided, or wrong. The only “crime” they committed was failing to meet the unspoken standard in our heads.

The Bible has a word for this: pride. It’s that inner voice whispering, My way is best. My perspective is right. My values are superior. Once we buy into that, it becomes dangerously easy to judge, dismiss, and divide.

The irony? Most of us would agree that diversity—of thought, culture, personality, and background—is a gift from God. A world where everyone thought and acted identically would be dull, robotic, and stagnant. Yet the very differences we claim to celebrate often become the fuel for our harshest judgments.

Jesus Takes It Seriously

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said something that should stop us in our tracks:

“You have heard that it was said to our ancestors, Do not murder, and whoever murders will be subject to judgment. But I tell you, everyone who is angry with his brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Whoever insults his brother or sister will be subject to the court. Whoever says, ‘You fool! ’ will be subject to hellfire.”
(Matthew 5:21–22, CSB)

Jesus isn’t exaggerating here. He’s making the point that contempt, insults, and name-calling come from the same heart that fuels murder. They degrade the image of God in others, and they poison our own hearts in the process.

A Better Way

The Apostle Paul gives us a different standard:

Therefore I, the prisoner in the Lord, urge you to walk worthy of the calling you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.
(Ephesians 4:1–3, CSB)

Humility doesn’t mean abandoning truth or convictions. It means acknowledging that we don’t have all the answers, and that other people—different as they may be—are worth listening to, learning from, and loving.

It means pausing before we slap on a label.
It means trading the instinct to condemn for the discipline of curiosity.
It means seeing diversity not as a flaw to fix, but as part of God’s beautiful design.

Not every choice people make is wise or godly—but our first step shouldn’t be knee-jerk condemnation. God calls us to discernment rooted in love, not in pride.

Today’s Challenge

So this week, notice your labels.

Slow down before speaking.

Choose to listen before you judge.

And when you see someone who is different—in thought, in practice, in culture—thank God for the gift of diversity, and ask Him to help you respond with humility.

Because when we embrace diversity with the heart of Jesus, we don’t just tolerate differences—we reflect the Kingdom.