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Human life was established and meant to be whole. Since the first day of our existence, the intention was completeness. When God created Adam, God desired a oneness — a wholeness — between Him and man, a marital relationship in simplicity and purity (Gen. 2:18). This oneness is an effortless living of man before God, in which we take in and live by nothing but the tree of life.
Every day, we find ourselves doing something miraculous without giving it much thought at all. Breathing! We live by a universal truth that everyone needs to breathe air to live. While this principle is biological, it is also spiritual; there is the same universal truth for our spiritual life. When God created man, He breathed into him His breath of life (Gen. 2:7).
The Bible is very clear concerning God’s promise in His economy. However, the major difficulty that needs to be overcome is that we do not live the life of a believer — we hold our own opinions over God’s words. We might read the Bible, talk about the Lord, or even preach to other people. We might think we believe. But believing is nothing about our reading, talking, or analysis. Believing is simply the receiving of God’s words, through which we are changed and transformed.
You might think that the biggest threat the enemy poses to believers today is temptation, sins, wrongdoings, or other outwardly worldly things. But he is even more cunning than that — even if we don’t give in to any of these, he is using the worldly systems to slowly take away the functions that make us human beings: our proper expressions, sentiments, feelings, impressions, and experiences.
From the very beginning, man was formed into a living soul when God breathed Himself into the dust of the earth (Gen. 2:7). Without God’s breath, we are nothing but dirt. In man’s fall, we were separated from the source of life, and our earthen lives became heavy, burdened by our concerns and desires for the physical world around us — bound by dirt.
Christianity often preaches a “prosperity gospel”: “Believe in the Lord and you will receive all God’s blessings!” But what does it mean to be blessed? The book of Psalms begins with this word: “Blessed is the man” (Psa. 1:1). In the original Hebrew, the root for “blessed” means “to walk straight, advance, progress.” But this walking is not just a behavior; it’s a Person! And this Person has a territory in us. Thus, the meaning — or the experience — of being blessed is to let this Person, the Lord Himself, walk straight in us.
Today, many Christians are stuck between a high vision and a low reality. In other words, we aspire to something grand, yet find ourselves struggling when our reality doesn’t meet that standard. In our daily life, while we admire a higher life, we are pulled down by the gravities of the world: not just sins and obvious struggles, but also all the practicalities, inconveniences, and necessities of a modern human living.
“Kingdom” may seem like an archaic or outdated term to most, but to believers, the kingdom is a living experience every day. The Lord Himself has made Himself home in our hearts and is reigning in our beings now. But that is not just for the individual experience. The church today is where we see and experience the expanding of His kingdom on the earth. And that expansion begins within: the Lord Jesus Christ Himself is enthroned and dwelling in our spirit.
Today, we have two ministries to choose from: the ministry of the old covenant and that of the new. Can you tell the difference? Moses brought the ministry of the old in glory to the Hebrews at Mount Sinai after they came out of Egypt. But the glory of the old was temporary, fading — only physically upon Moses’ face (2 Cor. 3:7).
What does it mean to serve in God’s household? Serving isn’t about an act of kindness or duty; it’s a fundamental shift in our being, a transformation from a selfish life of independence to a grand and rich humanity. True serving is a parenting — it is a depositing of a vision, or a “memory,” revealed by the Lord to us into one another.
A Christian’s life is a life of vision. It is a life of being captured by an image — something high, something beautiful, something shockingly new and fresh and satisfying. A believer’s life always starts in such a remarkable way: in love, in revelation.
In ancient times, the Lord not only provided land boundaries for His people in Israel — He also provided boundaries in time through His calendar. His set months and seasons marked appointed times for the Israelites to know how and when to meet with Him, mapping out His coming and going with the changing seasons. According to that calendar, the Hebrews traditionally confirmed the beginning of a month by witnesses carefully testifying before their ruling council, the Sanhedrin, that they had seen the new moon.
The most powerful and leading characteristic of the church life is freedom. We might have come from very negative circumstances or from a very high background, but either way, when we cross the threshold of the church, our shackles can be broken, our bondage set free. The many things which once occupied our narrow hearts dissipate.
When man fell, he gave up life in exchange for knowledge (Gen. 3:6). Without life — without newness — man became old. Since then, humankind has endlessly pursued “knowing” things in the old creation, yet lost the ability to sense the life of God. Whenever we encounter something, we like to objectively understand it, “indexing” it or classifying it into something we think we already understand.
What authority are we living under every day? As believers, we may follow the Lord and even have Him with us, yet in our daily life we may be like the disciples in Matthew 8 — tossed about by the winds and waves of our environments with nothing solid to anchor us. Where is the way to live powerfully and reign?
In this life, we are all journeying through a spiritual desert — a barren place where there is little life and little water. Just as Cain went out to wander in the wilderness and established cities to protect himself and carry on his independent life, we, too, build our own cities in the desert in the hope of securing our own refuge (Gen. 4:14-17). But these are merely a mirage; there is no water here. In the end, we remain stuck in this deadly desert, selfishly struggling for our own survival under the curse, gambling our life on our own toil. But there is a way out of the curse and out of the desert — a way to live the overflowing life we were made for.
What makes up a human life? From our first day to our last day on the earth, our lives are a collection of memories. But as we go through life and our mind starts to dim, our memories fade. What memories will last? At the end of our days, what will remain? As believers, we have the privilege to have not just physical memories, but eternal ones. Every day we have the opportunity to bring our experiences before the Lord where they can be shined upon, changing us and depositing something eternal — something of Christ. In a human life, our bodies and minds may decay, but the memories preserved in our spirit last forever.
From Genesis to Revelation, from Eve to the “woman clothed with the sun,” the Lord has been seeking to produce life. Eve was “the mother of all living” (Gen. 3:20) and the woman in Revelation is also found to be “with child” (12:2). She will bring forth a son, the man-child, who is the answer to what this generation needs, as He will “shepherd all the nations” (v. 5). He has always been unwavering in what He is after, and today, our calling in this present time is to bring about the fulfillment of what our dear Lord seeks: to bring forth life.
Love requires submission. We often say that we love the brothers and sisters in the church, our parents, or our spouses, but have you experienced love in its truest and most practical application — in submission? In Genesis 24, Abraham sent his eldest servant back to Abraham’s home country to find a wife for his son Isaac. In this “love story,” we can see such an example of submission.
In every believer, there is a defining moment that forever changes our lives. We encounter a living Person, bringing all that He is as the substance of faith to us. Yet, what is it that anchors a person to be solidified in faith? What does faith look like after that defining moment?
In your daily life, what is “supreme” to you? In other words, what is your top priority? We are often occupied by many things: struggling for our own survival, considering how we can entertain or satisfy ourselves, and fighting to preserve all that we have. As human beings, these are all basic parts of our living. But sooner or later, we have to admit even when all these are taken care of, we are still not complete, still not satisfied.
When we first believed, the Lord came into us, and we were brightened, illuminated, energized, and made whole. The Lord appeared Himself to us just as He first came 2000 years ago as a “great light” to “the people sitting in darkness,” (Matt. 4:16), and just as God separated the day from the night in Genesis (Gen. 1:14). Yet as believers of many years, that day might seem long ago. Many of us have become darkened and sleepy in our spiritual condition.
You might know that Romans shows us the path to our salvation, but chapter 8 unlocks much more than a judicial process. It links us to a relationship with an active, experiential Person — not just a “He,” but a “He who”: Someone who is, who does, who is a living and breathing and acting Person. But who is He to you?
The joy of our first meeting the Lord is unforgettable. We may think that encounter is the end of our salvation experience. But God’s full salvation is not accomplished in an instant; it is a “pickling” process that takes time to be fulfilled. On the one hand, we are changed the moment we are first saved; on the other hand, we are being renewed day by day (2 Cor. 4:16).
God’s people had returned from their shameful captivity. They were home. But for some reason they stopped to look back and remember this sorrowful moment. They had been demanded by their Babylonian captors to sing a song of Zion, but they could not bring themselves to do so while they were in a foreign land (v. 4). So they hung up their lyres on willows by the rivers of Babylon.
In Genesis 2:22, we see that Jehovah takes one of Adam’s ribs and builds it into a woman. Apparently, a rib is bone of Adam’s bones and flesh of Adam’s flesh, but a rib alone can never be Adam’s counterpart. Something still needed to take place so that Woman could be brought forth. Indeed, Adam was made, but the Woman needed to be built in order to be the man’s helper and counterpart.
When was the last time you looked someone in the eyes and found there no fault, no falsehood, no shadow? Instead, you found something true, unpretentious, free? Love is just like that. It is powerful. It is being eye to eye, beholding the gaze of someone in such a genuine and true way. There is no caveat or concern, no hesitance or restraint.
Although the scriptures never recorded the Lord saying that He “loved” Abraham, or that Abraham suddenly became a zealous, godly man, we can see that his being called by God was so powerful that it resulted in a lifelong pursuit of His Person — a pursuit that was thorough and intense. Abraham was so attracted by his first encounter with this Person in His glory that he would, in time, willingly leave his old land, his relatives, and his father’s house (Gen. 12:1).
Human beings are like donuts. We can have all the outward things of life — things that seem tasty, pleasurable, and sweet — but there is a gaping hole in our center. Every day we are busy attending to our needs and desires, whether concerned with putting food on the table, entertaining ourselves, or even pursuing a noble philosophy. The worldly things are attractive, even satisfying in the short term, but are they enough to fill that void? At the end of a day full of these pursuits, every human being still has to turn off the lights, lay down, and face himself: “Am I satisfied? Am I happy? Who am I, truly?”
People have many ideas about what love is: being kind to someone, a romantic feeling, a physical relationship, or even having a legal marriage certificate. But all these understandings fall far short of truly satisfying us. They also have little power to change us and to help us grow and mature. The reality is that love, whether from man or God, is not something we can easily define without a subjective experience.
Justification isn’t a term to understand, but the organic result of God’s love reaching man. In Romans 4, Paul tells us that Abraham was justified not from his works but by faith in God. Many know Abraham as the “father of faith,” but this faith of Abraham is not what we think it is. Outwardly, Abraham was a sojourner, a foreigner, a person living in a tent, a man who sold his wife twice, and who considered his body already dead (4:19). How could he be considered righteous? Yet what justified Abraham is God’s infinite love, personified as the true Husband, covering him unconditionally.
The entire first eight chapters of the book of Romans have one aim: to bring us to the new creation. Paul ushers believers from objective knowledge of salvation into a subjective and intimate experience of the indwelling Christ. This experience brings us from the groaning of the old creation into the new creation, which is the glory of the children of God (Rom. 8:21-22). But most mysteriously and perhaps most importantly, Paul ends this chapter with love. What does love have to do with glory?
You can read in Romans 7 Paul’s struggle with the flesh, his desperation to come out of its weakness, and the condemnation of the law. The struggles of this bound, “wretched man” (7:24) are indeed miserable. But if you read on to Romans 8, you will find that the frustration of the corrupt and the old are purposeful if they lead us into something new, something glorious. Paul testifies to us that our struggles should bring us not only to an objective understanding of salvation, but also to a subjective experience of freedom in faith.
A human life should be sunny, bright, and free. We were created to eat (or take in) and live on the newness of life, never growing old, pursuing simple dreams. But we may “learn” how to come to the Lord through activities like prayer, reading the Bible, or meeting together with other believers in a way that becomes routine and religious — it becomes old.
When believers come together in the church, our life is all about eating and drinking. From the time that the Lord charged His disciples to eat and drink “in remembrance” of Him, this specific way of eating has been a characteristic of the New Testament church (Luke 22:19). Why is eating so important and how does it relate to our being together? Because eating and drinking the one supper determines our oneness in the church.
Believers are called to shine as luminaries to the generations. But in a world darkened by sin and degradation, how can we be bright? Philippians tells us this light has to do with being vessels “holding forth the word of life.” Reading black and white letters as knowledge is dead and dark, but carrying the word of life, which is none else but Christ, the Person in and as the Word, makes us bright, new, and shining.
Therefore I make known to you that no one speaking in the Spirit of God says, Jesus is accursed; and no one can say, Jesus is Lord! except in the Holy Spirit. (1 Cor. 12:3)
On good days, believers can be very powerful and victorious. They might serve with zeal, apparently faithfully. They can boldly proclaim how much they love the Lord.
The ministry of the New Testament is single, one, and the same. In the church, there is no such thing as multiple or divided. When we serve, we are tied back to our Creator and our master, our source. The ministry is simply the Word became flesh Who is tabernacling among us. The ministry we are serving is that Life and Person incarnated in us, churching and living in a tent with us. The ministering has to do with continuing, nurturing, and building a household life that we are serving together.
Matthew chapter 24 is often read as a warning to watch for outward signs of the Lord’s return. Many are caught by the physical degradation and corruption of the world. Others speculate about the timing of the fig tree and other such signs. There will be great tribulation, and some will be taken, some will be left. But what is the meaning of this? We might be diligent to look for all these signs, yet completely miss our inward spiritual preparation.
In the concluding section of his first letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor. 16), Paul says, “a door is opened to me, great and efficacious.” This open door is not a physical door, but actually an opening in our humanity, which is able to usher people into a spiritual environment — to give birth, raise, educate, and build. It is a door into the real, practical church life. The Lord’s dispensing needs this door, which is outlived and experienced by the virtues of the saints in resurrection.
This divine life in us begins with something small: a seed. In Matthew 13, the Lord shares with His disciples the parable of a seed planted in four different types of soil. The life out of the seed issues the heavenly kingdom of God within us. This kingdom life is nothing but the new creation, a hopeful, heavenly, victorious life that has the power to enliven our fallen, earthly, deadened beings.
What does it mean to be faithful and prudent in the household of God? Faithful and prudent on what? In a time when information is everywhere and lies are rampant, the enemy is more active in our lives than ever. The enemy indeed is real among the goings-on of the world. But just as the enemy is real, so, too, is the church. The builded church — the one against whom the gates of Hades cannot prevail (Matt. 16:18) — requires a condition of being faithful and prudent. This faithfulness and prudence, however, is not in deeds or morals, but in carrying the condition of a parent.
Since the fall of humankind in Genesis, there have been two lines: one of death, and another of life. Even though sin came in and, with it, ushered in death for mankind, God’s judgment in Gen. 3:14-19 ushered in a salvation, too. Seemingly, God’s judgment was a curse; actually, it was a message of salvation: that the seed of the woman will bruise the serpent’s head. In response, Adam named his wife “the mother of all living”!
Humans are like an empty cup. You can fill this cup with many things, but not all things fit the purpose of the cup. Our empty vessels cannot be satisfied until we are filled according to the purpose of our creation. On one hand, we are physical beings always looking with our physical eyes to find something we can consume or something we can accomplish. On the other hand, our beings are spiritual; we were designed to carry a spiritual, divine life.
This design carries a grand, encompassing, full-of-capacity scope and nature. As sisters, we are meant to be those who can “host” a domain and bear life not just in a physical way but a spiritual one. Actually, before the Lord, we all are “sisters.” But since the beginning of our human story, the fall of Adam and Eve, we have deviated, and we taste the bitterness of that curse daily. We strive to control our lives, family, and practical demands for ourselves.
Chapter 3 of Genesis is known for the curses or judgments given to the serpent, Adam, and Eve. But at such a sober moment in human history, there was also an awakening. And out of that awakening, there was an understanding. Up until this point, Adam had named all the creatures on the earth, but not his wife. So when did Adam name Eve? Interestingly, Adam named his wife Eve “the mother of all living” as a response to God’s judgment and discipline to them.
In Colossians 1, Paul opens his epistle to the saints with the experience of salvation, revealing a positional move. That move is from the authority of darkness into the kingdom of the Son, Christ. Why is it that we can try so hard or struggle to improve, but we never have the power to truly change ourselves? That’s because salvation has nothing to do with our effort to overcome or “do right” in our behavior. To be saved, we must simply be moved!
When we come to the book of Exodus, we find not just a physical building but the way to live in the reality of dwelling with God through tabernacling.
In his second epistle, Peter writes, “And we have the prophetic word made more firm, to which you do well to give heed as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts” (1:19). As New Testament believers, this word is key to our functioning in the tabernacle, our churching today, as God’s royal priesthood (1 Pet. 2:5). Such priests carry the prophetic words — the Lord’s living words — as a testimony of light from our tabernacling in this dark age.
In Exodus 25, the Bible presents us with a blueprint of a specific dwelling for God to live with and be in His people. While today we are not offering physical sacrifices, we are indeed chosen to be His New Testament priests (2 Pet. 2:9). So what does it mean to be a priest? It is all about the table.
Today, in the midst of a chaotic global situation, we are facing a more subtle and seemingly harmless crisis. Volumes of information are flooding us constantly through the media, challenging what we see, what is real or fake, truth versus lies. That infiltration is not just from the world.
To many believers, one of the most prominent passages from the Old Testament is the giving of the ten commandments in the book of Exodus to God’s people. This passage is considered important as the main law for the people of God to follow both then and now.
In our modern times, value is often given to things based on economics — how much something is worth and how it can add benefit to our lives. For others, value may be placed on a moral ground — whether something is right or wrong. Even with our families, we carry a value — what makes this family different from another.
There’s a Man in the glory / Whose Life is for me. / He’s pure and He’s holy, / Triumphant and free. / He’s wise and He’s loving / How tender is He! / His Life in the glory, / My life must be; / His Life in the glory, / My life must be.
In Exodus chapter 25, very specific instructions are given to build a unique piece of furniture. Here we read a description of a box — and yet this box is the center of not only the living of the Israelites but also our walk today.
Then Jehovah spoke to Moses, saying, / … you shall take from them: gold… / … and acacia wood, / … / And let them make a sanctuary for Me that I may dwell in their midst… (Exod. 25:1, 3, 5,8)
When we think about ourselves as human beings, we would hardly consider ourselves as a structure, object or place. Yet the Bible describes God’s people in such a way: as a dwelling place, His house, and as materials made for building.
Recently, during our trip as a church, one of our young brothers who just transitioned into college life as a freshman flew back to spend time with us. As he shared his college experience with us thus far, we heard within his narrative a strong, religious framework in an effort to preserve his comfort zone and habits which were yet to be tested in his new environment. Here sat a young man vulnerable to the world, though he actively sought to uphold his perception of being a “good” person.
Standing on centuries-old soil of a former slave plantation in the deep south, I found myself filled with many senses. As part of one of our recent trips as a church to South Carolina, we had stopped to visit this historical site, not as a vacation, but as an experience to deepen our understanding of where we have come from as believers.
When we think about Daniel in the Old Testament, we may be very quick to think of him as a great figure — bold and powerful in the world; appearing wise to see and interpret the dream of a king; standing against the worldly current with his diet; surviving the lion’s den. But what we often miss is the other side of Daniel that is hidden throughout this precious book, which holds a key for us to know him as a real, tangible person loving the Lord and how we can come into that same condition today.
In late spring a few months ago, while it was still very cold out, a few sisters and I went to a free plant exchange. There weren’t many options that day, but I came home with a tomato plant. It was one of the ones that was left after everyone else picked over the selections: an unseemly, tiny sprout in a plastic July 4th-themed cup. It didn’t appear very promising, and when the weather turned warm, I left it outside for a few days before finally planting it in the ground without much thought. What can come out of such a small life as this — disregarded, without prospects? I wasn’t even sure if it was a tomato plant. I dug a hole with my fingers and shoved in the tiny sprout. No one expected it to thrive. That would be a miracle.
Look outside your window, and most likely you’ll see a lawn growing green, autumn trees dropping leaves, or perhaps even bustling roadways and busy pedestrians. 6,000 miles away from Ohio is Israel, where war is a reality, the scale of which hasn’t been seen in decades: Hamas airstrikes, land raids, and combat — and subsequently Israel’s swift response in Gaza — shocked a globe that has become accustomed to “unrest,” yet was wholly unprepared for mass tragedy. Even so, what does this have to do with us? Sure, we feel sympathy, sadness, even outrage. But is that all?
So I set my face toward the Lord God to seek Him in prayer and supplications with fasting and sackcloth and ashes. / … / In those days I, Daniel, had been mourning for three full weeks. / I ate no desirable food, nor did meat or wine enter my mouth, nor did I anoint myself at all, until the three full weeks were completed. (Dan. 9:3; 10:2-3)
And the king appointed to them a daily portion from the king’s choice provision and from the wine that he drank, and appointed that they should be brought up for three years so that at the end of the time they might stand before the king. / … / But Daniel set his heart not to defile himself with the king’s choice provision and with the wine that the king drank, so he requested of the leader of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself. (Dan. 1:5;8)
Then Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel went up. / And they saw the God of Israel, and under His feet there was something like a paved work of sapphire, even like heaven itself for clearness. / And He did not stretch out His hand upon the nobles of the children of Israel. And they beheld God and ate and drank. (Exod. 24:9-11)
Human life is very busy; day in and day out, we spend our time working, thinking, pursuing — all towards creating our own definition of living. But in the midst of this bustle, do we ever take a moment to pause and ask why we are living this way? For what? No matter how we define our earthen life, whether religious or worldly, without an exception, it leaves us as an empty shell without the sense of fulfillment.
Modern man-made structures are built with practical materials such as concrete and steel. They are durable, sturdy and cost-effective. Yet in the Bible, God specifically chooses materials of great value — precious stones—for building. The use of such material is seemingly impractical and a waste of material. However, in God’s eyes, the architecture for His building begins with sapphire.
At the turning of the age, we anticipate that the believers in the church life will be overcoming and powerful, ready to stand against the nations and the evil and adulterous generation that has become more and more degraded as His return draws near. We know that the book of Matthew is about the gospel of the kingdom — the age to come — but it also shows us a negative picture of God’s people rejecting the Lord at a crucial turning point in His dispensational moving on the earth.
According to the Bible, the church era is confined in time and space, bounded by two dispensational signs: the Lord’s first coming and the Lord’s second coming. We find ourselves in this very scenario — sojourning in the wilderness, awaiting His return, surviving through gathering and eating manna. Just as the Israelites were brought out of Egypt and given an open, heavenly supply to take in, we too, have access to this daily supply in His word.
The church life requires a core sense — a fellowship, or a way of understanding among the saints and across generations that is linked by this pure, innermost sense of life. When Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians, he was in prison, and he says in 1:8 that he longed after them all. In the original Greek, this “long for” means “to desire,” or “to pursue with love.”
Modern people live a convenient life. Everything is ready. Most of us don’t need to fight to live or eat, and even our cooking, cleaning and travel are made easy by modern technology and infrastructure. But when you are out in the wilderness, life is very raw. We have to do everything by ourselves, and face our beings every day — both the beautiful part and the ugly part. In the true wilderness life, there are no beds and showers to be comfortable and clean. There are no shortcuts, no conveniences to rely on.
Today, there are many people who can read the Bible. There are also many ways to read the Bible. Scholars may study the Bible, and good Christians may look to the Bible for guidance. But when we touch the word, how often do we truly receive nutrients from the Lord’s words? When we spend time reading the Bible, do we find ourselves being saturated, being constituted?
Eve fell because she was independent, separating herself from Jehovah and from Adam. On the surface, Eve may look innocent and naïve, having been deceived by Satan. But at the moment the serpent said to her, “Did God really say…?” she made her own decision outside of her source and covering, seeking to make herself wise (Gen. 3:1-6). Is this not us?
Paul writes that God has made us “sufficient as ministers of a new covenant.” But what does serving or ministering in the ministry of this new covenant look like, and what is the end goal for our serving? In 2 Corinthians 3 and 4, Paul refers to this ministry as not of the letter, but of life through the Spirit. He exhorts us to be “confident” in this ministry and to exercise it with “boldness” — without a veil — beholding and reflecting the glory of the Lord through the Spirit.
Since the time of Adam, as recorded in Genesis 5, death has been part of human history (v. 5). And yet, it was not God’s original intention that Adam should die. Through the fall, sin brought in death to the generations of man: “Therefore just as through one man sin entered into the world, and through sin, death; and thus death passed on to all men because all have sinned” (Rom. 5:12). From Adam’s descendants, however, there is a divergence into two distinct genealogies: Cain’s line and Seth’s line.
What does the Lord’s anointing feel like? What does it look like to be anointed? Some Christians believe they need to have some kind of holy water or physical anointing oil. But when we all come together as believers to meet on the Lord’s Day, what is it that ushers us into the true prayer, singing of hymns, sharing of testimonies, declarations of victory, and offering of sacrifices upon the Lord’s altar? What leads us to offer up a real, genuine, and acceptable offering to the Lord?
We know that God in His economy arranges all circumstances to turn out to the fulfillment of His own desire. And as we look at the world situation these days, we know that He is using even — and especially — the most fallen situations to glorify Himself. Religion defines glory a certain way, and humans define glory a certain way, and yet our God’s definition is something completely different. It is the revealing of Himself to His chosen people, that all may know that He is God.