Rooted & Reckoned

Category: Uncategorized

  • Bad Exegesis and Political Weaponizing of Scripture

    I recently saw a video in which the speaker quotes Romans 13 (“no leader is in power without God’s authority”) and then immediately claims we are also commanded to “ignore false leaders.” She uses this to justify opposing certain political figures, particularly the current American President.

    This is a textbook case of twisting Scripture for political purposes.

    The Actual Biblical Context

    Romans 13:1-7 is remarkably clear: civil authorities are established by God, and Christians are generally called to submit to them — paying taxes, honoring them, and living as good citizens. Paul wrote this while living under Nero, one of the most corrupt and brutal emperors Rome ever had (see Bruce, 1985; Schreiner, 1998). The command is not limited to leaders we like.

    The New Testament repeatedly commands us to pray for all leaders, not just the ones we approve of:

    “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people — for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” (1 Timothy 2:1-2)

    This includes leaders we dislike, disagree with, or even find morally repulsive. Prayer is not endorsement. It is obedience (see Towner, 2006; Mounce, 2000).

    The “counter verses” the speaker alludes to — warnings about false teachers, false prophets, and not following those who lead people into sin or false doctrine — are almost entirely about spiritual authority inside the church, not civil government.

    False teachers and false prophets in the New Testament are those who distort the gospel, promote immorality, or lead people away from Christ (2 Peter 2:1-3, Jude 3-4, Matthew 7:15-20, 2 Corinthians 11:13-15; see Carson, 1987; Schreiner, 2003). There is a massive categorical difference between a political leader you dislike and a false spiritual leader.

    Jesus Himself modeled submission to civil authority even when it was unjust. He paid the temple tax (Matthew 17:24-27), submitted to Pilate’s authority during His trial (John 19:11), and told His followers to “render to Caesar what is Caesar’s” (Matthew 22:21; see Blomberg, 1992). Civil disobedience is sometimes justified (Acts 5:29 — “We must obey God rather than men”), but only when the government explicitly commands us to sin or forbids us from obeying God. Disagreeing with policy or a leader’s personality is not the same thing.

    Who is speaking?

    The speaker has no formal theological credentials. A review of her content shows her output is overwhelmingly dominated by intense political opposition to Donald Trump. One video even states she left Bethel Church because they “promoted Trump.” That is a remarkably shallow reason to leave a church. Her material reads far more like political activism than biblical exposition.

    It becomes clear that her interpretation is not driven by a desire to faithfully exposit the text, but by personal animus toward the current president. Hatred — even of a flawed leader — should never override biblical authority or context.

    Let me be clear on this point: I do not support Donald Trump. I have significant disagreements with him on character, rhetoric, and several policy matters. But he currently holds real authority as President of the United States. According to Scripture, that authority exists under God’s sovereign permission (Romans 13:1; Daniel 2:21; John 19:11). My personal dislike does not nullify the biblical command to pray for him and to recognize the reality of governing authority.

    The Real Issue

    Scripture is not a political weapon to be wielded against whichever party or person we dislike. Both sides do this constantly. In this case, the selective use of Romans 13 — affirming God’s sovereignty when convenient, then pivoting to “ignore false leaders” when it’s not — is manipulative and dangerous.

    Jesus is not a Republican. Jesus is not a Democrat. Jesus is King (John 18:36-37; Revelation 19:16).

    Our ultimate allegiance is to Him, not to any earthly political tribe. Christians can and should engage in the public square — voting according to conscience, advocating for justice, speaking truth — but we must stop pretending Jesus would fully endorse either major party’s platform or that disliking a president gives us permission to twist Scripture to fit our narrative.

    Let’s stop using the Bible to justify our tribal loyalties. Let’s return to reading it on its own terms, in its own context, under the lordship of Christ alone.

    The Kingdom of God is not a political platform. It is a radically different way of being human under the rule of King Jesus.

    Citations:

    • F.F. Bruce, The Epistle of Paul to the Romans (1985)
    • Thomas R. Schreiner, Romans (Baker Exegetical Commentary, 1998)
    • Philip Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus (2006)
    • William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles (2000)
    • D.A. Carson, “Matthew” in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary (1987)
    • Thomas R. Schreiner, 1, 2 Peter, Jude (2003)
    • Craig L. Blomberg, Matthew (1992)

  • Jesus Is Not a Republican — And He’s Not a Democrat Either

    Both political parties love to claim Jesus as one of their own. Democrats often say He was basically a socialist who would support expansive government redistribution and social programs. Republicans frequently treat Him like the ultimate culture warrior for conservative values, emphasizing personal morality, law and order, and limited government.

    Both are wrong.

    Jesus is King, not a mascot for American politics. He refuses to be co-opted by any earthly ideology or party platform. Trying to squeeze Him into our modern left-right spectrum does violence to who He actually is.

    1. “Jesus was a socialist” is a bad reading

    It is true that Jesus cared deeply for the poor. He repeatedly warned about the spiritual danger of wealth (Matthew 19:23-24, Luke 12:15-21), commanded radical generosity (Luke 6:30-35, 18:22), and said that how we treat the hungry, the stranger, the sick, and the imprisoned is how we treat Him personally (Matthew 25:31-46). He praised the widow who gave her last two coins (Mark 12:41-44) and told stories that lifted up the marginalized.

    However, Jesus never endorsed socialism as a political or economic system. He told parables that assume personal responsibility, diligence, and good stewardship. In the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30), the master rewards the servants who faithfully worked with what they were given and harshly judges the one who buried his talent out of fear and laziness. The unjust steward is held accountable for his mismanagement (Luke 16:1-13). Later, the Apostle Paul writes plainly, “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10).

    Jesus called individuals to voluntary, sacrificial generosity out of love for God and neighbor — not coercive redistribution enforced by the state. Socialism, as a system, tends to disincentivize work, concentrate power in government hands, and reduce personal responsibility. These outcomes are foreign to the teachings of Jesus. He never advocated for a centralized state to manage wealth; He called people to radically generous hearts.

    2. Republicans often miss the other half

    Many on the right rightly emphasize personal morality, repentance, and the importance of character. Jesus did uphold moral truth without apology. He affirmed the moral law (Matthew 5:17-20), called people to repentance (Mark 1:15), and never shied away from naming sin.

    But Jesus also spent an enormous amount of time with the poor, the outcast, the sick, the tax collectors, and the marginalized. He commanded His followers to do the same — not just as private individuals, but as a visible community that cares for the vulnerable (Luke 4:18-19, James 1:27, Galatians 2:10, Matthew 25:31-46). He told the rich young ruler to sell everything and give to the poor (Mark 10:21). He praised the Good Samaritan who crossed social and ethnic lines to help a stranger in need (Luke 10:25-37).

    Many conservatives talk a lot about personal responsibility and moral standards while conveniently downplaying or ignoring the biblical commands to care for the least of these in concrete, sacrificial ways. Personal morality and systemic neglect of the vulnerable cannot be separated in the teaching of Jesus. Both matter.

    Jesus challenges both sides

    Jesus doesn’t fit neatly into our political categories. He challenges both sides at the same time.

    He demands both personal responsibility and sacrificial care for the least of these. He calls His people to be salt and light in every sphere of life — not to baptize one political tribe as “God’s side” and treat the other as the enemy.

    The Kingdom of God is not a political platform. It is a radically different way of being human under the rule of King Jesus. It transcends left and right, capitalism and socialism, Republican and Democrat. It judges every system and every ideology by the standard of God’s righteous character and His revealed will in Scripture.

    When we try to make Jesus a mascot for our team, we shrink the gospel and turn the King of kings into a prop for our political ambitions. That is idolatry.

    Christians should engage in the public square. We should vote, advocate for justice, speak truth, and work for the common good. But we must never confuse any political party with the Kingdom. Our ultimate allegiance is to King Jesus alone — not to red or blue, not to elephants or donkeys.

    The gospel is bigger than American politics. Let’s stop trying to make Jesus fit into our boxes. He won’t. He never has.

  • What Holiness Is… and Isn’t

    Holiness is a word used an awful lot in Christian theology — “holy,” “holiness,” “be holy,” etc. The problem is that it’s clear many people who throw the word around don’t actually know what it means, including some well-known and respected theologians (I’ll not name the one I’m thinking of… but boy, he’s pretty far off base).

    I was ordained in the Nazarene tradition, a Wesleyan-Holiness denomination. Holiness — specifically the doctrine of Entire Sanctification — is a major distinctive in the Church of the Nazarene. I still believe this emphasis is thoroughly biblical, and dismissing holiness as unimportant is simply contrary to Scripture.

    Leviticus makes it plain: “Be holy, because I am holy” (Leviticus 11:44-45; 1 Peter 1:15-16).

    Ah! So we’re supposed to be perfect like God? Got it.

    …No. That’s not what it means.

    At its root, “holy” means set apart. Distinct. Different. It means your life is increasingly marked by the character of God rather than the patterns of the world around you. People should be able to tell something is different about you — not primarily by what you say, but by how you live, especially when you don’t think anyone is watching.

    Where I Diverge from Some Holiness Traditions

    This is where the Church of the Nazarene and I began to diverge in practice. Too often, holiness got reduced to a list of external rules: no movies, no dancing, no alcohol, no “shiny objects,” no fun. (I may be exaggerating slightly, but not by much.)

    That’s not holiness.

    Going to see Gnomeo and Juliet isn’t inherently evil (unless we’re counting terrible movies as a sin). Enjoying a single beer with dinner or after mowing the lawn isn’t sinful either. Scripture doesn’t say “never drink alcohol.” It says don’t get drunk (Ephesians 5:18; Proverbs 23:29-35). Paul even told Timothy to drink a little wine for his stomach (1 Timothy 5:23).

    The obsession with external rules was often more about maintaining a certain image than about heart transformation. Jesus had strong words for that kind of religion:

    “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness.” (Matthew 23:27)

    Performative Christianity — looking holy on the outside while the inside remains unchanged — is not holiness. It’s exactly what Jesus condemned.

    Real-World Examples of Confusion

    We see this confusion played out publicly today.

    Take Sophie Rain, the OnlyFans creator who claims she can do porn and still “love Jesus” with no need for repentance. She says things like “God is very forgiving,” which is true — God is very forgiving. But forgiveness is not a license to keep sinning. Jesus never said “come as you are and stay as you are.” He said “come as you are and follow me” — which includes repentance and transformation (Mark 1:15; Luke 5:32). Any porn actress (or anyone else) who argues that God is cool with porn is simply ignoring the clear biblical call to holiness and repentance. That’s not freedom. That’s self-deception.

    On the other side, some churches (like Xenos, now Dwell) have dismissed any strong call to repentance as “legalism,” while simultaneously practicing church discipline against members struggling with same-sex attraction. That’s inconsistent at best. You can’t preach “no rules, just grace” and then selectively enforce rules when it suits you. True holiness avoids both cheap grace and harsh legalism.

    What Holiness Actually Is

    Holiness is being set apart for God.

    It is the Holy Spirit progressively making us more like Jesus in character, love, integrity, purity, and obedience. It has two inseparable sides:

    • Separation from the sinful patterns of this world.
    • Consecration to God — heart, mind, will, and body.

    Christian perfection (or Entire Sanctification) is not absolute perfection. That won’t happen until we are in God’s presence (Philippians 3:12; 1 John 1:8). Think of it like lane assist in a car: the Spirit gently nudges you back when you start to drift, but you can still override it if you’re determined to drive into oncoming traffic. Holiness is that ongoing nudging toward Christlikeness.

    My mentor Dr. Rob McCorkle has described it well: when we’re born, we’re rooted in depravity. After salvation, the “bungee cord” that pulls us toward sin is gradually replaced by a new default — being drawn toward what is holy. We can still override it, but we’re more naturally compelled toward goodness.

    In other words, true holiness is a reflection of God’s character — however imperfectly we live it out. It is not something we try our way into through sheer willpower. It is a work of grace that resets our default nature.

    Holiness is not the enemy of joy — it is the path to real joy. It is not opposed to love — it is love’s fullest expression. It is not about earning God’s favor — it is the grateful response to the favor we’ve already received in Christ.

    We will never be perfect in this life, but we are called to grow in holiness until the day we see Him face to face (1 John 3:2-3).

    That’s what holiness is.

    Everything else is just noise.

  • America Was Never Intended to Be a “Christian Nation”

    There’s a lot of talk these days about America being a “Christian nation.” Some treat the idea as obvious history. Others treat any challenge to it as an attack on Christianity itself. Both sides are missing the actual point.

    The United States was never intended to be a theocracy or an officially Christian nation.

    The proof is written directly into the First Amendment:

    “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…”

    That first clause — the Establishment Clause — was deliberate. The founders had watched Europe tear itself apart for centuries with state churches, forced conversions, religious wars, and persecution of dissenters. They wanted no part of that on American soil (Madison, Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments, 1785; McConnell, 2000).

    They were not trying to create a secular utopia. Most of the founders and early citizens were Christians of various kinds. But they were also painfully aware of what happens when government and one particular form of religion become too tightly entangled.

    Important clarification: There is NO “separation of church and state” in the Constitution

    The exact phrase “separation of church and state” never appears in the Constitution. It originated in a private 1802 letter from Thomas Jefferson to the Danbury Baptist Association, where Jefferson used the metaphor of a “wall of separation” to reassure the Baptists that the federal government would not interfere with their religious liberty or establish a national church (Jefferson to Danbury Baptists, January 1, 1802; Dreisbach, 2002; Hamburger, 2002).

    Jefferson was expressing his preference that the federal government stay out of religious matters, not that religion must be banished from public life. In fact, the First Amendment does two things at once:

    • It prevents the federal government from establishing an official religion or favoring one denomination over another.
    • It protects the free exercise of religion — meaning the state is permitted to participate in and benefit from religious influence, as long as it does not coerce belief or establish a state church (McConnell, 2000; Treaty of Tripoli, Article 11, ratified 1797 under Adams).

    The founders expected religion (especially Christianity) to have a healthy, public role in shaping morality and virtue. They simply did not want the government forcing people into one form of it.

    What the founders actually believed

    They assumed a moral and religious people would be necessary for the republic to survive. Washington, Adams, and others said this repeatedly (Washington, Farewell Address, 1796; Adams to Massachusetts Militia, 1798). They believed Christian ethics generally produced good citizens. But they deliberately rejected the idea of an official Christian theocracy with enforced religious conformity (Madison, Memorial and Remonstrance, 1785; Curry, 1986).

    This is very different from the “Christian nationalism” talk we hear today. The founders were protecting religious liberty for everyone — including future Jews, Muslims, atheists, and dissenters within Christianity — because they understood that once government picks a favored religion, freedom eventually dies (McConnell, 2000; Dreisbach, 2002).

    Why this matters now

    When Christians today insist that America must be legally recognized as a “Christian nation,” they are often arguing for something the founders intentionally avoided. When secularists claim there must be a total “separation of church and state,” they are reading into the Constitution something that isn’t there.

    Jesus Himself refused to use political power to advance His kingdom. When the crowd tried to make Him king by force, He withdrew. When Pilate asked if He was a king, Jesus replied, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36).

    The gospel advances by persuasion and transformation of the heart, not by legislation or state power.

    Christians should be salt and light in every nation — including America. We should advocate for justice, morality, and human flourishing. But we should never confuse political power with the Kingdom of God.

    America was founded as a constitutional republic with religious liberty, not as a theocracy. The founders knew the difference. We should too.

    Citations:

    • James Madison, Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments (1785)
    • Michael W. McConnell, “Why is Religious Liberty the ‘First Freedom’?” (2000)
    • Daniel L. Dreisbach, Thomas Jefferson and the Wall of Separation Between Church and State (2002)
    • Philip Hamburger, Separation of Church and State (2002)
    • George Washington, Farewell Address (1796)
    • Treaty of Tripoli, Article 11 (1797)
    • Thomas J. Curry, The First Freedoms: Church and State in America to the Passage of the First Amendment (1986)

  • There Is No “Science vs. Religion” War — And Both Sides Need to Stop Pretending There Is

    There really is no “science vs. religion” war — or at least, there shouldn’t be.

    Yet certain loud voices keep trying to force one. On one side you have Seth MacFarlane, who likes to mock Christians as believers in a “Sky Daddy” and once claimed creationists are less intelligent than people with severe cognitive disabilities. On the other side sits Ken Ham, who insists Genesis 1 must be read as six literal 24-hour days and treats anyone who disagrees as a closet atheist or compromiser.

    I have almost zero respect for either man. Both are thin-skinned pseudointellectuals who excel at insults but struggle with actual conversation unless their audience already agrees with them. Disagree with MacFarlane and you’ll get sarcasm or a reminder that he’s friends with Neil deGrasse Tyson. Disagree with Ham and you’ll be called a compromiser or worse. Both build strawmen, traffic in surface-level arguments, and prefer mockery over engagement.

    I’m using them only as stand-ins for the broader problem: far too many people on both sides act as if science and religion are inherently at war. They are not. Accepting this truth does not make you a traitor to your “side.”

    Let me be clear about my own position. I am not a Young Earth Creationist — I consider that position indefensible. I am not a deist. I am also not anti-science; I have a deep appreciation for astronomy and cosmology. At the same time, I am a Christian theologian who believes God created the universe and that Jesus rose from the dead. These things are not incompatible. It is the height of willful stupidity to insist they must be.

    The Problem Starts with Genesis 1–2

    Much of the unnecessary conflict comes from how people read the opening chapters of Genesis. A small but vocal group of Christians insists on six literal 24-hour days, a physical Garden of Eden, and a young earth. On the flip side, critics assume every Christian must hold that view and then mock the faith accordingly.

    Both approaches miss the mark.

    The key Hebrew word in Genesis 1 is yom (יוֹם). While it can mean a literal day, it frequently carries a broader, more flexible meaning — an epoch, an indefinite period of time, or simply “when” something occurred. This is the same word used in other parts of Scripture in clearly non-literal ways. Context matters. The sun is not created until the fourth “yom,” which already complicates a strict solar-day reading. The highly structured, poetic form of Genesis 1 (“evening and morning, the Xth yom”) strongly suggests literary framework rather than scientific chronology. The chapter is theological poetry declaring God’s sovereignty and order, not a modern scientific timetable.

    Science and Faith Are Compatible

    We have strong evidence that the universe is billions of years old: cosmic microwave background radiation, the formation of stars and heavier elements, and the fossil record. None of this precludes God. In fact, many serious thinkers on both sides of the faith question have long recognized that science and religion address different domains.

    Christian philosopher and theologian William Lane Craig has repeatedly affirmed that the Big Bang cosmology provides powerful scientific confirmation of the biblical doctrine of creation out of nothing. He argues that a universe with a finite beginning aligns with the theological claim that God created the cosmos. Far from seeing science as a threat, Craig sees modern cosmology as supportive of theism.¹

    Even some prominent atheists have acknowledged that science and faith are not inherently at war. The late paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould — a committed atheist — famously proposed the principle of “Non-Overlapping Magisteria” (NOMA). He argued that science and religion occupy entirely separate domains: science deals with empirical facts and natural processes, while religion addresses questions of meaning, morality, and ultimate purpose. Gould insisted there should be no conflict because the two magisteria do not overlap.²

    Atheists like MacFarlane often begin with the assumption “no supernatural cause is possible” and then act as if the data proves their starting point. That is not science — it is philosophical naturalism masquerading as neutrality. True science describes mechanisms and regularities; it does not dictate ultimate causes or rule out intelligent agency by fiat.

    As a Christian, I have no problem saying God initiated the universe, set its laws and initial conditions, and specially created life. I also have no problem accepting the Big Bang and an ancient cosmos. These are not in conflict. God is not threatened by good science, and good science is not threatened by the possibility of a Creator.

    The real tragedy is how many people on both sides have turned a false dichotomy into a tribal battle. Christians who demand young-earth literalism and atheists who treat any belief in God as anti-intellectual are equally guilty of intellectual laziness.

    Science and faith address different questions. Science asks “how?” Faith asks “why?” Both can coexist without one devouring the other.

    It’s time we stopped forcing them into conflict.

    Notes

    1. William Lane Craig, Reasonable Faith: Christian Truth and Apologetics, 3rd ed. (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2008), 111–156. See also William Lane Craig, “God and the Big Bang,” lecture, University of Hong Kong, October 2018.
    2. Stephen Jay Gould, “Nonoverlapping Magisteria,” Natural History 106 (March 1997): 16–22.

  • Why I Left, Part Two – And Why I’m Taking an Extended Break

    I’ve been away from writing for a while. Life has thrown several major changes at me since November, and I’ve needed time to recharge—new hobbies, long walks, home improvement projects, and just breathing. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking.

    In being this honest, I’ve likely torpedoed any future chance of being hired at a church or teaching at a Christian college. That’s okay. I’ve taken my Sundays back. I’m relaxing in God’s creation, spending real time with my wife and kids, watching NASCAR, or doing whatever I want. I’m even considering starting a simple home church someday, but I’m not rushing into anything.

    I haven’t left the church forever. I’m just taking a long, intentional break.

    What follows will probably make some people angry or cost me a few friendships. That’s fine. With how I’ve chosen to spend my time now, it’s their loss, not mine.

    Here are some hard truths I’ve observed after years on staff (youth pastor, worship team, ordained elder, etc.):

    1. Stop telling people “I’ll pray for you.” It’s performative, and most people know it. It’s usually a quick way to end a conversation without actually doing anything. I stopped saying it a long time ago. If someone is on my heart, I reach out with encouragement or let them know I’ve already prayed.
    2. If you actually mean it, pray right then. I’ve only ever seen one person consistently do this without needing an audience—my friend Allen.
    3. James was right. If you see someone in need and simply say “be well” or “I’ll pray for you” without lifting a finger, your faith is useless (James 2). When my Muslim neighbor’s son had a wheel fall off his car, I didn’t offer empty words. I confirmed what was needed, bought the parts, and spent a couple hours fixing it. That’s what love in action looks like.
    4. The church has largely lost the art of real friendship. Too many “church friendships” are transactional. You’re friends as long as you’re useful—serving, attending, supporting the vision. Once you step back, the relationship often fades. In contrast, many of my secular friends have been far more consistent, honest, and loyal.
    5. There’s no drama like church drama. The pettiness, cliques, and over-the-top reactions to minor things I’ve witnessed are honestly bizarre.
    6. Leadership gossips. A LOT. Often more than the average person in the pews. I’ve heard leaders absolutely tear into people (especially those who left) behind their backs. It’s embarrassing.
    7. I’ve worked in the corporate world my entire adult life, and I’ve never seen the level of sabotage and favoritism I’ve seen in the church. Insecure people trying to dim someone else’s light to make their own look brighter is rampant—and it’s deeply disappointing.
    8. The church preaches “love” and “come as you are,” but only if you come as they expect. We loudly proclaim grace and unconditional love, yet the moment someone steps out of line—asking hard questions, challenging leadership, or struggling with same-sex attraction—the welcome mat gets yanked away. Jesus said “come as you are,” but the church too often adds “…but get your act together first.”
    9. Too many pastors are obsessed with church size rather than effectiveness. “Nickels and noses” drives too much decision-making. The world was changed by twelve scared-then-emboldened people. One preacher (I think it was Charles Moody but can’t remember for sure) discipled twelve people a year, who then each discipled twelve more. Within five years the impact was massive. It’s not “build my church.” It should be “build the Kingdom.” Bragging about an “online campus” with three viewers while ignoring real discipleship is missing the point.
    10. The church congratulates itself way too much. “We served 14 people dinner this year!” gets treated like a major victory. Who really cares? Did anyone grow spiritually, or are we just showing off? If it’s the latter, we’re spitting in Jesus’ face—our only reward is getting to brag about it.

    This isn’t true of every single person, but it’s well over fifty percent in my experience. The American church has drifted far from what Christ intended. We’re more worried about entertainment, smoke machines, ear-tickling sermons, beautiful buildings, and national politics than we are about Kingdom work. Meanwhile, the church in places like China grows rapidly in secret house gatherings, much like the early disciples.

    If this offends you, good. Maybe it will stir something in you to help be the change.

    I plan to write more regularly again. Some posts will be lighter. Some will be heavier. All of them will be honest.

  • Why I Left (and Where I Go From Here)

    It’s been quite a while since I last posted. I haven’t abandoned the blog, but I stepped away to get some things clear in my mind. A lot has happened.

    First, as I shared in my last post, my position at my employer of eight years was eliminated. That came as a complete shock, and I’m still processing it. In the aftermath, I also learned that some people I considered friends spoke about me in ways that were unkind. Gossip has a way of doing damage, whether intended or not. It’s unfortunate when people elevate themselves by diminishing others—especially those who aspire to leadership. A true leader lifts the people around them.

    I also resigned from Redemption City Church in December. To be fair, I wasn’t serving in any meaningful capacity at that point. I stepped away from the worship team in 2024 and resigned as youth pastor in spring 2025 after being told I would be used more in a teaching role. That did not happen.

    This isn’t a gripe post. It’s an effort to clear the air for those who still follow along.

    From 2012 through 2021, I was in continuous schooling—earning an AA, BA, and MA from Ohio Christian University, followed by an MA(TS) from Nazarene Theological Seminary. I completed the Church of the Nazarene Course of Study for ordination, along with the required service. I served as youth pastor beginning around 2016–2017, was on the worship team from 2011 through 2024, and built a career in insurance while pursuing a CPCU designation.

    I was ordained in 2022, and for a time things seemed positive. But after we moved out of our shared building, my role became increasingly unclear—until it effectively disappeared. Youth attendance dropped from more than twenty per class to just a handful. A major factor was the lack of consistent support and participation needed to sustain it.

    My resignation as youth pastor was formally accepted in March 2025. I was again told I would have more teaching opportunities—more than once a year. That did not materialize.

    Over time, repeated unfulfilled commitments took their toll. After a while, that wears on anyone. I reached a point where I had had enough and chose to step away entirely. My last Sunday ended early after an interaction with someone in authority that I found deeply unkind. I left that day and have not returned.

    Plans for a send-off fell through. My wife, who served as Compassionate Ministries director, was informed that a board meeting she had scheduled was canceled because “numerous people” had told the pastor she was leaving. The issue was simple: she had told no one that—she had planned to stay. At that point, only I (and our youngest) had decided to leave. My youngest expressed it this way: “They treat me like an employee, not someone who belongs here.”

    Given all of that, we declined any kind of send-off.

    I do have concerns and criticisms, but I’m not convinced this is the right time to fully share them. What I will say is that I did not feel heard, even when I made intentional efforts to communicate. I had a direct conversation with our pastor outlining reasonable requests: to teach at least once per quarter, to serve as primary substitute as previously discussed, to be used in teaching more than once every year or two, and to publish this blog as part of that effort. I had also been told I would write a newsletter.

    None of those things happened. Instead, I was told that taking notes during sermons should be viewed as a significant opportunity.

    At some point I made a decision I never expected: I resigned my credentials.

    This was not a loss of faith. I remain as committed as ever. But in that environment, the credentials felt functionally meaningless. I did not feel respected, valued, or utilized in a way that reflected the investment made.

    For context, I was never under church discipline, nor was I given any indication—despite asking—that I had done something wrong. I was also the only other ordained elder in regular attendance. That reality made the disconnect even harder to understand.

    Am I bitter? A little, yes. I think that’s honest. But more than anything, I have very little tolerance left for inconsistency, lack of communication, favoritism, and broken commitments.

    My faith remains intact. My willingness to engage in environments where those patterns persist does not.

    I plan to return to writing here more regularly, starting tomorrow.

  • Godly Friendships

    I don’t need a pocket full of gravel if I have a few gems.

    I wrote this as encouragement to a former coworker the other day while expressing gratitude for her friendship. Even I’m surprised that I can occasionally be poetic—as this just came from my fingers to my phone while texting.

    If we pause to think about this, we often find ourselves collecting something—anything—including “friends.” I use quotes because we have to realize that not everybody we are seemingly friendly with is actually a friend. Most of us probably think, “Yeah, that’s common sense,” even as we collect them as tokens via Facebook or other social platforms, still referring to them as friends. Probably much less rude than saying, “This guy I know, Joe,” but honestly, not terribly realistic.

    Humans are social creatures, to be sure, though we all need solitude as well—even the most outgoing of extroverts. I tend to be very outgoing, but I find myself becoming increasingly guarded. I’m not a cynic, I don’t think—but I’m finding that I resonate more with stoicism these days.

    Tracy Lawrence recorded a song called “Find Out Who Your Friends Are” (written by Casey Beathard and Ed Hill¹) in which he expresses a truth we all recognize:

    “Everybody wants to slap your back Wants to shake your hand When you’re up on top of that mountain But let one of those rocks give way Then you slide back down Look up and see who’s around then… This ain’t where the road comes to an end This ain’t where the bandwagon stops This is just one of those times when A lot of folks jump off.”

    We’ve all experienced it, and the number-one place it happens is often work. I’ve started to categorize these folks as “work friends.” Maybe this is obvious to everyone else and I’m just learning, but I’m pretty outgoing. I even joked with a friend (ironically, a true friend I met at work) that I’m about to be: “Wife, child, child, orange cat, cat with thumbs, clingy female cat, and to heck with everybody else.”

    Why?

    On November 3, 2025—just a couple of days before my birthday—I was called into an unexpected meeting and informed that my role was eliminated. I was about 90% surprised, given some of the reorganizations that had already been happening, but I had assumed my specialized licenses would protect me.

    I was wrong.

    I was simply told, “You’re done. Here’s HR, severance information, get off our network, goodbye.”

    I get it—corporations, even those that talk about being compassionate and caring, are cold-blooded. I have opinions on all of this, but I will keep them to myself for several reasons, as they are very uncharitable.

    I sat for a few moments to gather my thoughts, told my wife, and then texted a couple of people I thought were on my side. Then I sat on my couch in disbelief. I had believed I was at the company I was going to retire from, in a role I was good at, with solid support. This was not to be, and that’s fine—I won’t lie and say I hold no ill will, as I am puzzled why I was selected. Those who remained simply are not qualified—literally—to do my job.

    Please note: I was almost immediately offered three positions at three different places and was hired very quickly. I chose to stay away from work until December 1 to reset, to make sure I didn’t carry forward any bitterness. The only downside is that my body had become accustomed to, “I’ll get up whenever I darn well please, thank you,” so waking up for my first day at the new company was a bit of a struggle. While I actually took the lowest offer, which was a substantial cut from my previous role, I should end up earning more overall.

    I initially heard from nearly everybody I reached out to. Then reality slapped me in the face—they stopped. Not all, but the ones I thought were my closest allies, including one who claimed I was their best friend.

    I know the usual excuse: “It’s awkward.” I reached out and said, “I’m the same dope I was at 2 this afternoon (the meeting was at 2:15), no reason to be weird.” Several didn’t respond—somewhat surprising.

    Even worse, the majority of these folks claimed to be my biggest supporters… and worse still: “Christians.”

    I’ve long since realized that those who make it a point to talk “Jesus this” and “God that” in a work context are often disingenuous—especially when it’s clear that their faith is performative. The most verbal abuse I ever got from customers often came from emails like ILoveJesus@God.com or PastorJimmy@FirstChurchofKindleCounty.net. I wish I were kidding, but I am not.

    Look, I wasn’t the company pastor, and none of these folks were my congregation. If they’d said, “You suck, hail Cthulu,” it wouldn’t have bothered me. But sadly, performative faith is real. As Craig Groeschel said in The Christian Atheist, people love to talk about how spiritual they are when they find out they’re with clergy, yet give clear indications that they do not truly know Jesus.²

    In my case, it showed in attitude and behavior—only treating me kindly if they needed something, bragging about nightly inebriation, and so on.

    But the worst were the liars—and I’m not talking about spiritual things, but provable lies about others. All the while, they smiled in your face… meaning they were almost certainly bashing you behind your back.

    The “best friend” did this to me, and while I cannot prove it, I’m confident it was a primary reason I was selected for elimination. (Note: I am taking steps to ensure accountability. I have zero interest in returning to the company, but if there isn’t any accountability, who knows who else might be damaged?)

    I won’t go into too many details, other than to say a letter was received and it seems I was accused of being its sender—and I was called “irate” in a meeting when no such thing occurred. The problem is this is the epitome of “he said, she said,” and since no investigation was completed, their word was taken as truth. (Please note: I rarely lose my temper, and when I do, it’s likely because WVU is playing poorly because, you know, reasons.)

    I do have a point to all of this, and it may sound like a pitch for stoicism: when I was injured at the U.S. Air Force Academy, I learned that nobody has your best interests at heart except YOU. This isn’t strictly true—my wife, children, parents, in-laws, and our collective grandparents do—but work folks? Not a chance. And this shouldn’t surprise anyone.

    Want to know who knows this best? Yeah…Christ.

    I am not saying this is identical to my situation, but consider the track of Jesus’ relationships:

    1. Jesus fed thousands with a few loaves and fish . He had thousands wanting to see and hear Him.
    2. That number diminished to hundreds when things got difficult (see the aftermath of the Transfiguration and the hard teachings, e.g., John 6:60–66).
    3. Then there were twelve—His original apostles .
    4. Then three in the Garden of Gethsemane .
    5. And only one—John—at the foot of the cross .

    Top of the mountain? People will want to be with you. But when it gets hard? Not a chance.

    So, while I write this partly for catharsis, I caution you as a man of faith to protect yourself: yes, we serve, love (agape), teach, and reach out. Just don’t pretend that everyone you contact is your friend. And this is biblical—you must be willing to brush the dust off and leave .

    Remember:

    • Proverbs 13:20: “Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.”
    • 1 Thessalonians 5:11: “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.”
    • Galatians 6:9: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

    Choose your companions wisely, guard your heart, and continue to walk in faith. True friends—those grounded in Christ—are gems worth holding onto.

    ¹ “Find Out Who Your Friends Are” – Words and music by Casey Beathard and Ed Hill, © 2006 (Sony/ATV Music Publishing). ² Craig Groeschel, The Christian Atheist: Believing in God but Living as If He Doesn’t Exist (Zondervan, 2010).

  • Revelation 8 The Seventh Seal and the First Four Trumpets

    As chapter eight opens, the two-part interlude of chapter seven has ended. That pause existed to reassure God’s faithful people that they are not forgotten—that their prayers have been heard and that they will not be abandoned amid the trials to come (Rev 7:1–17).

    The famous “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” from chapter six are often misunderstood. While they are indeed part of John’s apokalypsis, they are not the arbiters of the end times. The seventh seal has not yet been opened at that point, so the horsemen serve instead as a prelude—a warning before the true unfolding of God’s final plan (Rev 6:1–8).¹

    The Seventh Seal Opened

    When the Lamb opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour… (Revelation 8:1, ESV).²

    Once the seventh seal is broken, the scroll can finally be read. Yet instead of an explosion of sound or fury, heaven falls completely silent. This is not fear but anticipation—a holy stillness awaiting God’s next move.

    John’s description recalls 1 Kings 19, where God is found not in wind, earthquake, or fire, but in the “still small voice” (1 Kgs 19:11–13). It also echoes Habakkuk 2:20: “But the LORD is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him” (ESV).³

    This moment is like a musical rest in a symphony—the piece is not over, but suspense builds before the next note. The exact length of the silence (“about half an hour”) is not meant to be literal; the point is that there is a deliberate pause, a breath held in reverent expectation.⁴

    Silence as Worship

    This silence also reflects the nature of true worship. Worship is not only loud praise or outward activity—it is also:

    1. Opening ourselves fully to the presence of God.
    2. Listening for the voice of God.
    3. Being directed by the Spirit of God.
    4. Being touched, healed, and comforted by God.

    If our worship is always busy, noisy, or filled with constant motion, we may actually drown out the voice we most need to hear. Psalm 46:10 reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (ESV).⁵

    Many of us dislike silence; we rush to fill every void with sound or chatter. Yet doing so may cause us to miss the quiet whisper of God’s guidance. Revelation 8 reminds us that sometimes, the holiest act of worship is simply to wait in stillness.⁶

    The Seven Angels and the Golden Censer

    Then I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them… (Revelation 8:2–6, ESV).

    John introduces seven angels who stand before God—perhaps the traditional archangels mentioned in texts like 1 Enoch 20 (cf. Tobit 12:15).⁷ They are commissioned to inaugurate the next stage of God’s plan through the blowing of seven trumpets.

    The Role of Trumpets

    Trumpets in ancient times had three main purposes:

    1. To mobilize for war (Num 10:9; Jer 4:19).
    2. To announce the coming of a king (1 Kgs 1:34; Ps 47:5).
    3. To call people to repentance (Isa 58:1; Joel 2:1, 15).⁸

    All three meanings fit perfectly here. What unfolds in Revelation 8 is, in many ways, a reenactment of the Exodus—God making war on evil, proclaiming His kingship, and calling His people to come out of bondage.⁹

    The Angel with the Golden Censer

    Before the trumpets sound, another angel—distinct from the seven—is introduced. Standing at the altar with a golden censer, he offers incense mixed with “the prayers of all the saints” (Rev 8:3). The smoke of the incense rises before God as a fragrant symbol of those prayers being heard (cf. Ps 141:2; Luke 1:10).¹⁰

    The censer is then filled with fire from the altar and hurled to earth, resulting in thunder, lightning, and an earthquake—a sign that divine judgment and human prayer are now intertwined (Rev 8:5). Even amid calamity, the scene remains one of worship. God is sovereign, and His actions proceed in answer to the prayers of His people.¹¹

    The prayers represented likely include:

    • The cries for justice from Revelation 6:9–11.
    • Petitions for God’s kingdom and will to be done (Matt 6:10).
    • The prayers of the faithful enduring suffering (cf. Ps 22:1; Acts 7:60; Mark 9:24; Luke 23:34, 46).¹²

    The Trumpets Sound

    The trumpet sequence unfolds from 8:6 onward and continues through 11:19. These likely occur in parallel with the seal judgments, representing an intensification of God’s actions—from limited human judgment to cosmic upheaval.¹³ The trumpets come in two groups: four and three.

    The First Trumpet (v.7)

    Hail and fire mixed with blood are hurled upon the earth. One-third of the earth, trees, and all green grass are burned. Like the plagues of Egypt, this is symbolic rather than literal (Exod 9:22–26).¹⁴

    The Second Trumpet (vv.8–9)

    Something like a great burning mountain is thrown into the sea. One-third of the sea becomes blood, a third of marine life dies, and a third of the ships are destroyed. This recalls Jeremiah 51 and the fall of Babylon—Rome’s symbolic stand-in for godless empire (Jer 51:25, 42).¹⁵

    The Third Trumpet (vv.10–11)

    A blazing star called Wormwood falls upon a third of the rivers and springs, turning them bitter. The name symbolizes bitterness and judgment, recalling the bitter waters of Marah (Exod 15:22–25; Deut 29:18; Jer 9:15; 23:15).¹⁶ Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium), a plant known for its intense bitterness (and possibly used to make absinthe), becomes a metaphor for the poisoned moral and spiritual state of the world.

    The Fourth Trumpet (v.12)

    A third of the sun, moon, and stars are struck, reducing their light—an echo of the ninth plague of Egypt (Exod 10:21–23) and prophetic oracles of cosmic disturbance (Isa 13:10; Ezek 32:7; Joel 2:10, 31).¹⁷ Creation itself groans under the weight of divine judgment (Rom 8:22).

    The Cry of the Eagle

    Then I looked, and I heard an eagle crying with a loud voice as it flew directly overhead, “Woe, woe, woe to those who dwell on the earth…” (Revelation 8:13, ESV).

    This verse serves as a transition to chapter nine. The “eagle” (ἀετός) may also be translated as “vulture” in some contexts. If an eagle, it symbolizes swiftness and strength—a powerful herald of coming judgment (Deut 28:49; Hos 8:1). If a vulture, it is a grim symbol of death and destruction, circling the earth as judgment approaches (Matt 24:28; Luke 17:37).¹⁸ Either way, the message is the same: the worst is yet to come.

    The Parallels with Exodus

    Revelation 8 closely parallels the Exodus plagues:¹⁹

    TrumpetPlagueReferenceDescription
    1st7thExodus 9:22–26Hail and fire destroy the land
    2nd1stExodus 7:20–21Water turned to blood
    3rd—(cf. Exod 15:23)Wormwood = bitterness, moral decay
    4th9thExodus 10:21–23Darkness covers the land

    In essence, Revelation 8 is a spiritual Exodus. God is once again leading His people out of bondage—not from Pharaoh’s Egypt, but from the corrupt systems of the world (Rev 18:4).²⁰ John’s message is that believers must separate from false powers, political loyalties, and the idolatries of empire.

    We remain enslaved today—by culture, politics, and economics. Just look at how easily people are bound to these forces through social media, ideology, and self-preservation. Revelation calls us to come out from Babylon and realign our loyalty with the Lamb (Rev 14:4; 18:4).

    Conclusion: Be Still and Follow the Lamb

    Revelation 8 invites us to pause in silence before God, to trust that our prayers rise before Him like incense (Rev 5:8; 8:3–4), and to remember that He remains sovereign even amid judgment.

    It calls us to see beyond earthly powers and recognize that we, too, are part of an Exodus—led out from bondage toward the Kingdom of God (Heb 12:26–29).

    Be still, and know that He is God (Ps 46:10).

    ¹ G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation (NIGTC; Eerdmans, 1999), 376–79. ² All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are from the English Standard Version (ESV). ³ Craig S. Keener, Revelation (NIVAC; Zondervan, 2000), 254–55. ⁴ Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge University Press, 1993), 70–71. ⁵ David Chilton, Days of Vengeance (Dominion Press, 1987), 198. ⁶ Eugene H. Peterson, Reversed Thunder (HarperOne, 1988), 89–90. ⁷ See 1 Enoch 20:1–7; cf. Luke 1:19; Tobit 12:15. ⁸ Leon Morris, Revelation (TNTC; Eerdmans, 1987), 116–17. ⁹ Beale, Revelation, 448–54. ¹⁰ Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation (NICNT; Eerdmans, 1997), 179–80. ¹¹ Keener, Revelation, 260–61. ¹² Gregory K. Beale & Sean M. McDonough, “Revelation,” in Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament (Baker, 2007), 1101–02. ¹³ Mounce, Revelation, 181–82. ¹⁴ Beale, Revelation, 466–70. ¹⁵ Bauckham, Revelation, 100–101. ¹⁶ Keener, Revelation, 265–66. ¹⁷ David E. Aune, Revelation 6–16 (WBC 52B; Word, 1998), 518–20. ¹⁸ BDAG, s.v. ἀετός; cf. Mounce, Revelation, 192. ¹⁹ See especially Beale, Revelation, 459–60; Keener, Revelation, 257–58. ²⁰ Bauckham, Revelation, 126–27.

  • Revelation 7, Part Two (7:9–17) – The Great Multitude

    Continuing my study of Revelation 7, the phrase “after this I looked” signals a new vision, shifting from earth to heaven’s throne room (Rev 7:9). This interlude, following the sealing of the 144,000, offers hope amid the chaos of the first six seals, reassuring persecuted believers of God’s redemptive plan (Bauckham, 1993, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, p. 76). The scene transitions from a symbolic Israel to a universal multitude, revealing the scope of salvation (Koester, 2014, Revelation, p. 412).

    The Text: Revelation 7:9–17

    Revelation 7:9–17
    After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” … Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?” I said to him, “Sir, you know.” And he said to me, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore they are before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

    A Great Multitude from Every Nation

    John beholds a “great multitude that no one could number,” from “every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (Rev 7:9). This universal scope fulfills God’s promise to Abraham (Gen 12:3) and echoes the inclusive vision of Pentecost (Acts 2:5–11), uniting Jew and Gentile in worship (Beale, 1999, The Book of Revelation, p. 424). Clothed in white robes and holding palm branches, they evoke Jesus’ triumphal entry (John 12:12–19), reimagining it as Christ’s ultimate victory (Aune, 1998, Revelation 6–16, p. 448). The white robes, promised to the faithful in Revelation 3:5 and 3:18, symbolize purity and conquest, achieved through Christ’s sacrifice (Koester, 2014, p. 414). Their cry—“Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”—centers worship on divine redemption, subverting Roman imperial acclamations to the emperor (Friesen, 2001, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John, p. 194).

    An elder asks, “Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?” (Rev 7:13). John’s deferential reply, “Sir, you know,” invites the elder’s explanation: “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” (Rev 7:14). The phrase “great tribulation” doesn’t pinpoint a specific period but signifies the ongoing trials of faithfulness, as faced by first-century Christians under Roman persecution (Keener, 2019, Revelation, p. 224). The paradox of robes “made white in the blood of the Lamb” is striking: blood stains, yet here it purifies, reflecting victory through sacrifice, like the arnion of Revelation 5 (Bauckham, 1993, p. 78). This multitude, enduring suffering, conquers through holiness and participation in Christ’s cross (Beale, 1999, p. 428).

    The Reward of Faithfulness

    The vision culminates in eternal reward: the multitude serves God “day and night in his temple,” sheltered by His presence (Rev 7:15). Drawing from Isaiah 4:5–6, God’s shekinah glory protects them, reversing the hardships of the seals—hunger, thirst, and scorching heat (Rev 6:6–8; Koester, 2014, p. 416). The Lamb, as shepherd, guides them to “springs of living water” (Ps 23:2; John 10:11), and God “wipes away every tear” (Isa 25:8). This imagery of restoration and intimacy fulfills Old Testament promises, assuring believers of ultimate comfort (Aune, 1998, p. 452).

    Connections and Themes

    John weaves rich biblical threads:

    • Triumphal Imagery: Palm branches link Jesus’ entry to His eschatological triumph, fulfilling Zechariah 9:9 (Keener, 2019, p. 225).
    • White Robes: Echoing Revelation 3:5 and 6:11, they signify cleansing and victory, granted to those who overcome (Beale, 1999, p. 426).
    • Victory Through Suffering: The multitude mirrors the 144,000 (Rev 7:1–8), representing the Church as God’s eschatologically perfected people, ritually pure for spiritual warfare (Bauckham, 1993, p. 95). Their conquest aligns with the Lamb’s path of sacrifice (Rev 5:6).
    • Christ-Centered Hope: Amid judgment and tribulation, Revelation’s heart is the Living Christ, conquering through love. This vision counters fear-driven readings, emphasizing hope and worship (Koester, 2014, p. 418).

    Conclusion

    Revelation 7:9–17 is a climactic prelude before the seventh seal, depicting the faithful gathered in worship, their victory secured through endurance and the Lamb’s sacrifice. The 144,000 and the multitude are two perspectives on the same reality: the universal Church, purified and triumphant (Bauckham, 1993, p. 96). I’m struck by how this passage reframes Revelation—not as a chronicle of evil’s rise, but as the triumph of Christ’s love. It calls me to endure trials with hope, trusting the Lamb who shepherds us to eternal rest. Next week, I’ll explore Revelation 8, as the seventh seal opens and the trumpets begin to sound.

    Sources

    • Aune, David E. Revelation 6–16. Word Biblical Commentary, 1998.
    • Bauckham, Richard. The Theology of the Book of Revelation. Cambridge University Press, 1993.
    • Beale, G.K. The Book of Revelation. New International Greek Testament Commentary, 1999.
    • Friesen, Steven J. Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John. Oxford University Press, 2001.
    • Keener, Craig S. Revelation. NIV Application Commentary, 2019.
    • Koester, Craig R. Revelation. Anchor Yale Bible, 2014.