When most people hear the name Bathsheba, they immediately think of one of the Bible's saddest stories. Her name is forever linked with David's great sin, the death of her husband Uriah, and the painful consequences that followed. Yet if that is all we remember, we miss one of Scripture's remarkable testimonies to God's redeeming grace. Bathsheba's story begins in tragedy, but it does not end there.

What happens when a society loses not only truth, but also its understanding of what it means to be human? This question became the focus of one of Schaeffer's most influential works, Whatever Happened to the Human Race?, written with Dr. C. Everett Koop, who later served as Surgeon General of the United States. For Schaeffer, the issue was never merely political. It was spiritual, philosophical, and profoundly human. If human beings are not created by God, why to they have

Mary and Elizabeth's visitation scene. "And they were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless." (Luke 1:6) Some stories in Scripture move quickly. Others unfold over decades. Elizabeth's story belongs to the second category. We meet her in the opening chapter of Luke's Gospel, but by then she has already lived a long life of faithfulness. She and her husband Zechariah had served God for many years. They had prayed. They

When a culture abandons truth, fragmentation follows. But Schaeffer believed there was an early warning system for cultural decline. Long before politicians debate new policies, long before universities teach new philosophies, and long before ordinary people recognize what is happening, artists often sense the change. Painters, novelists, poets, musicians, and filmmakers frequently reveal the spiritual condition of a civilization before the rest of society sees it.

When we think of mothers who shaped the course of biblical history, no name stands higher than Mary, the mother of Jesus. Yet the remarkable thing about Mary is not her prominence but her humility. She was not a queen, a prophetess, or a ruler. She was a young woman from the small village of Nazareth, largely unknown to the world. Yet God chose her to bear and nurture the promised Messiah. Mary's story reminds us that God often works through ordinary people who are willing t

Hannah longed for a child, yet year after year her womb remained closed. In a culture where motherhood was deeply connected with honor and legacy, her barrenness became a source of deep grief. To make matters worse, she endured continual provocation from Peninnah, the other wife of Elkanah, who “provoked her sore, for to make her fret” .Though wounded and humiliated, she didn't give up hope. Instead, she prayed.

Decades ago, Francis Schaeffer looked carefully at the spiritual direction of Western civilization and warned that a culture detached from God would eventually lose its grounding in truth, meaning, dignity, and hope. He spoke not merely as a philosopher or cultural critic, but as a Christian deeply burdened for people. He believed Christianity was not merely a comforting sentiment or private spirituality. It was truth.

There are moments in history when obedience to God becomes costly. For Jochebed, motherhood itself became an act of courage. She lived during one of Israel’s darkest seasons in Egypt. Fear ruled the land. A cruel decree had gone out from Pharaoh: “Every son that is born ye shall cast into the river…”— Exodus 1:22

When Scripture first introduces Sarah, it does so with a painful sentence: “But Sarai was barren; she had no child.” (Genesis 11:30) That single line becomes one of the great tensions of the biblical story. God had promised Abraham descendants as countless as the stars, yet the woman through whom the promise would come remained childless year after year.

We continue the unfolding vision of God’s self-revelation through the prophets—now among the exiles in Babylon. By the River Chebar The heavens open far from Jerusalem. Not in the Temple.Not in the land of promise.But in exile. Ezekiel stands among the displaced, the disoriented, the judged—and suddenly: “I saw visions of God.”

Last week in Haggai, the message was clear and direct: “Build again.” The people had returned from exile, but the work had stalled. Their hands were busy—but not on God’s house. Now comes the prophet Zechariah. If Haggai speaks like a hammer, Zechariah speaks like a window. He does not just command the people—he shows them what God is doing.

The encounter comes quietly. There is no throne like Isaiah saw. No burning coal. No overwhelming display. Just a simple, decisive moment: “The Lord put out His hand and touched my mouth.” It is almost easy to miss—but everything changes here. If Isaiah was cleansed by fire, Jeremiah was commissioned by touch. And then comes the word that defines his life: “Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.”

God Speaks Again — But Differently Through the prophet Haggai, God does not roar like in Zephaniah. He asks a question: “Consider your ways.” You are busy…But not satisfied. You earn…But it slips through your fingers. You build your house…While Mine lies in ruins. This is not just rebuke—it is diagnosis. They have returned geographically… But not spiritually.

When God Sends You Anyway Last week, Isaiah said the words every servant longs to say:“Here am I. Send me.” But what comes next is not what we expect. God answers Isaiah’s willingness with a difficult assignment: “Go and tell this people…” And then something startling—Isaiah’s message will not soften hearts. It will harden them. It will not gather crowds. It will scatter them. This is the moment where calling becomes costly.

Uzziah began well. Crowned young, he “did what was right in the eyes of the Lord,” and as long as he sought God, he prospered (2 Chronicles 26). His reign was marked by strength, innovation, and national success. He built towers, strengthened Jerusalem, and led Judah into a season of stability and military confidence. In many ways, he was the kind of father whose life set a powerful example—disciplined, capable, and blessed.

A Prophet Who Asks “Why?” Habakkuk lived in the final years before the Babylonian invasion of Judah, around 600 BC. Violence, corruption, and injustice filled the land. And Habakkuk saw it. But instead of speaking first to the people, he spoke to the Lord: “O LORD, how long shall I cry, and thou wilt not hear?”— Habakkuk 1:2 This is not unbelief. This is faith that is struggling to understand.

March 25, the Church keeps one of its quiet but world-shaping days: The Annunciation — often called Lady Day. ine months before Christmas, we stand at the moment when everything changed. Not in a palace. Not before crowds. But in a small room, in an obscure town, with a young woman whose name would be remembered forever. Heaven Comes Near

Last week we looked at Samuel and Saul — a faithful man and a failed king.We saw something sobering: faithfulness in one generation does not guarantee faithfulness in the next. Now we step back a little further. Before Samuel stood as a prophet…Before Saul rose and fell as king… There was a father in Israel named Eli. And in his house, something went terribly wrong.

In Amos, the Lord stood in judgment. In Isaiah, the prophet sees the Lord in majesty. This is one of the great vision passages in all the Bible: “In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.” — Isaiah 6:1

St. Patrick's journey is a powerful reminder of resilience and purpose. From his beginnings as a slave to becoming a missionary, his story inspires us to overcome adversity. I met St. Patrick at McGovern's Bar in Newark, NJ, where dozens were drinking themselves drunk to celebrate this saint. -----Pātricius [paːˈtrɪ.ki.ʊs], the only name he used, was a holy man of God who knew Him well -----God spoke to him in visions and sometimes audibly and called him to be His own.