Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart

Send us Fan MailWhen everything feels uncertain, most of us reach for a map. I reach for something steadier. John 14 opens with words that don’t shame our anxiety, they name it: “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” From there, I reflect on what faith looks like when you don’t get a step-by-step plan, when the future is foggy, and when you just want to know you’re not alone.I also pull an unexpected thread from Star Trek: The Next Generation's Captain Picard and his famous line: “Make it so.” Beneath the command is a deeper question about trust. Before we can move forward, we have to believe the next step is worth taking. That connects straight into Jesus’ words to Thomas and Philip: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Not a set of directions, but a presence to walk with. We talk about troubled hearts, spiritual encouragement, Christian faith in hard seasons, and how guidance can be relational instead of informational.We close by widening the lens from individual certainty to shared community: love and compassion continuing through ordinary people in quiet, faithful ways. If you’ve been asking “How can I know the way?” this reflection offers a grounded answer: trust enough to keep walking, and notice the evidence of grace you’ve already seen.Subscribe for more Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart, share this with someone who needs steadiness today, and leave a review if it helps. What’s one next step you can take, even without the full map?Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailYou can do everything “right” and still not know what’s next. That’s the tension I sit with today: our deep desire for a clear plan, and the reality that life with God often feels like walking forward without a map. Rather than forcing quick answers, I slow down and listen again to an old, familiar story that still has breath in it.I read John 10:11–18, where Jesus names himself the Good Shepherd and draws a sharp contrast with the hired hand who runs when the wolf comes. The point isn’t perfect certainty or a tidy blueprint for your future. The point is relationship, presence, and being known. If you’ve carried the quiet fear of being unseen, reduced to a role, or left alone when things get hard, this passage speaks directly to that ache with steady tenderness.We also rethink what it means to “go boldly.” Boldness doesn’t have to be loud, dramatic, or fearless. Sometimes it’s choosing compassion when the world feels divided, choosing love when it feels vulnerable, and choosing trust when certainty isn’t available. I close with a prayer for guidance and grace, and a reminder to be gentle with your journey.If this brings you a moment of peace, subscribe for more Christian reflection and Bible-based encouragement, share this with someone who needs steadiness today, and leave a review so more listeners can find the comfort of the Good Shepherd.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailLocked doors can be physical, but most of ours are emotional: fear we can’t shake, grief that still feels close, questions that keep circling even after we’ve heard good news. We start with John 20:19–29 and step into the room with the disciples, where the tomb is empty yet anxiety remains. Then Jesus arrives without waiting for anyone to “get it together,” and his first words aren’t an explanation or a correction. He offers peace. That single choice flips the script for anyone who thinks clarity must come first. We also linger on a surprising detail: the risen Christ still carries wounds. Resurrection doesn’t erase the marks of suffering, and that matters for how we think about healing, trauma, and redemption. Sometimes healing is not removal, it’s transformation, when what once signaled defeat becomes part of a new story that no longer defines us. And then there’s Thomas. He’s famous for doubt, but his need is relatable: he wants an encounter. Jesus doesn’t shame him. He meets him where he is and gives him what he needs to believe, before speaking a blessing over everyone who won’t get that kind of proof and still chooses faith. If you’ve ever wondered whether faith is enough when you can’t see, this reflection is for you. Subscribe, share with a friend who needs peace, and leave a review with the line that stayed with you.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailThe empty tomb is only the beginning, and that’s what makes the days after Easter so honest. Fear doesn’t evaporate overnight. Questions don’t instantly resolve. The disciples gather behind locked doors, trying to make sense of what changed, and that scene feels uncomfortably familiar when our own lives get tight with anxiety, grief, or uncertainty. I walk through the quiet beauty of resurrection as something that unfolds slowly and personally. Jesus returns without spectacle and speaks a simple word that lands like medicine: peace. Not a debate. Not a correction. Presence. That shift matters because it reframes Christian faith as relationship rather than a demand for instant clarity, and it offers a grounded kind of hope for anyone searching for spiritual healing and emotional steadiness. We also linger on the detail that the risen Christ still carries wounds. Resurrection does not erase the story; it transforms it. The scars remain, but they no longer mean defeat. They become proof of love that endured. From there we turn to Thomas, whose doubt is met not with shame but with invitation: see, touch, know. Faith becomes trust rooted in encounter, even when we can’t fully explain what we’re experiencing. If you’re in your own “locked room” right now, let this be a companion for the Easter season on the way to Pentecost. Subscribe, share with a friend who needs peace, and leave a review with the line that stayed with you.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailEaster doesn’t always land like fireworks. Sometimes it shows up before the day gets loud, while grief is still in the air and the questions haven’t loosened their grip. We sit with that honest edge of the resurrection story where the tomb is open, the space is empty, and what should make sense simply doesn’t. If you’ve ever walked into a moment expecting an ending, this reflection meets you there without rushing you past what hurts. We follow the movement from confusion to recognition, and we linger on a detail that changes everything: Jesus doesn’t just rise, he returns. Not with spectacle or a lecture, not with anger or accusation, but with presence, peace, and a gentleness that invites understanding instead of demanding it. That’s the heartbeat of our Easter message and a deeply practical word for modern faith: resurrection hope often arrives slowly, and love can meet us again even after betrayal, loss, and the cross. Along the way we talk about mystery, healing, and why brokenness is not the final word. We pray together for hearts that stay open, eyes that can recognize quiet signs of new life, and trust in the steady unfolding of God’s love. If you need a grounded Christian meditation on resurrection, presence, and hope after loss, press play. Subscribe, share with a friend who needs hope, and leave a review to help others find the love that returns.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailGood Friday doesn’t ask us to understand everything. It asks us to stay. When the road grows quieter and the story turns toward the hill and the cross, we face a moment that feels heavy, honest, and strangely important for the modern heart.We walk step by step through the Passion narrative: the movement from the garden, the noise of fear and confusion, and Jesus continuing forward without turning away. That forward motion matters, because it reframes suffering as something Christ enters on purpose, not as a tragedy happening outside of God’s care. Along the way, we name the “visible weight” so many of us carry in private: shame, grief, failure, uncertainty, and the ache we can’t quite explain.From the cross comes a response that still disrupts us: forgiveness. We explore what it means to see the crucifixion not as a cold transaction but as an offering, God in Christ giving everything to reveal a love that does not withdraw or abandon. Then we sit with the silence, the darkness, and the pause that feels like an ending, making room for a quiet kind of hope: love is not fragile, and what looks like loss can become transformation.If you’re walking through pain, this reflection is a companion and a prayer. Subscribe for more, share this with someone who needs steady hope, and leave a review to help others find the show. What does it look like for you to stay present today?Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailThe loudest day of Holy Week gives way to the quietest kind of power: a shared meal, a simple cup, and a towel in the hands of Jesus. I’m Steve Pozzato, and this reflection lingers with Maundy Thursday, where faith isn’t performed in a crowd but practiced at a table.We walk through the Last Supper as a scene of steady presence. Jesus sits with friends who do not yet understand what’s coming and who will soon betray, deny, and scatter. That’s the pastoral shock of the night: love isn’t offered to the polished version of us. It’s love that knows fully and stays anyway. We also pause at communion, the Eucharist, the bread and the cup, and how the ordinary becomes holy through meaning, remembrance, and connection.Then everything turns on one unexpected act: foot washing. The teacher kneels. The King serves. Peter resists, and we name why that feels so familiar, because many of us resist the very grace we need most. Maundy Thursday leaves us with the mandatum, the clear command that carries us toward Good Friday: love one another, not as an idea, but as presence, service, and staying.If this brought you a moment of clarity or comfort, subscribe, share with a friend walking through Holy Week, and leave a review so more people can find the quiet strength of this story.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailHosanna is a beautiful word until you realize how much you’re loading into it. When the crowd welcomes Jesus into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, they’re not clueless, they’re desperate for change. And if we’re honest, so are we. We want the breakthrough, the rescue, the moment where everything finally shifts and the pressure lifts. We read Matthew 21:1–11 and sit with the strange, striking detail that Jesus chooses a donkey. Not a warhorse. Not a display of strength that makes the powerful nervous. A quiet, prophetic sign of a different kind of King. That gentle entrance exposes the tension at the center of Holy Week: the people are right to shout “Save us,” but they misunderstand what salvation will look like. To sharpen the point, we bring in The Hobbit and Thorin Oakenshield, a character who finally gets the throne and treasure he craves, only to find that fear and control can become their own prison. It’s a mirror for our own lives, especially when we confuse power with freedom. Jesus offers something deeper: victory through self-giving love, peace that doesn’t depend on “winning,” and healing that reaches the root, not just the surface. If you’re heading into Holy Week carrying big hopes, old disappointments, or a tired heart, come listen and reflect with us. Subscribe, share this with a friend who needs a different kind of peace, and leave a review with the question you’re sitting with right now.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailThe road you’re on is doing more than carrying you forward, it’s changing you. Lent begins with walking, but it keeps going until it reaches something most of us both want and resist: transformation. I’m Steve Pizzato, and I’m inviting you to slow down and notice what the journey is forming in you as we move closer to Holy Week. We spend time with two vivid gospel moments that belong together. In Mark 8, Jesus asks a question that won’t let us hide behind other people’s opinions: “Who do you say that I am?” Peter answers with the right words, yet the story hints at a deeper truth many of us recognize in our own faith: you can name something accurately and still not understand it. That gap between confession and comprehension becomes a holy place where God can teach, refine, and reshape us. Then we climb the mountain in Luke 9 for the Transfiguration, where Jesus is revealed in radiant glory and the voice from the cloud says, “Listen to him.” Clear sight is not always comfortable; it can be disorienting because it changes what we think is possible. Along the way, I draw on Tolkien’s imagery of the long road, Aragorn’s slow unveiling, and Gandalf’s transformation to explore Christian discipleship, spiritual formation, and the quiet work of becoming who we truly are in God. If you’re longing for certainty but living in the in-between, this reflection offers language, Scripture, and practical questions to carry with you. Subscribe, share this with a friend walking their own road, and leave a review with the question you’re holding right now.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailPsalm 23 is everywhere, but we often hear it at the one moment it was never meant to be limited to. I’m Steve Pizzato, and I want to sit with this psalm as a companion for the middle of life, when the road stretches longer than we expected and the next step isn’t always clear.We start with the first line and slow down long enough to feel its weight: “The Lord is my shepherd.” Not a map. Not a strategy. A presence. We explore what it means that a shepherd leads from the front, how trust reshapes “I shall not want,” and why green pastures are less about comfort and more about safety. If your days are loud and your soul feels like it can’t lie down, we talk about rest as a spiritual practice, not a failure of effort.From still waters to the valley of the shadow of death, Psalm 23 tells the truth about fear, grief, and uncertainty while insisting that the valley is something we walk through. We notice the prayerful shift from talking about God to talking to God, and we reframe the rod and staff as care, protection, and guidance. Then the setting changes: the Shepherd becomes a host, a table is prepared, and the story moves from survival to welcome and abundance.We close with the surprising force of the promise that goodness and mercy don’t just follow us, they pursue us, and we connect it to Tolkien’s long road and the gift of being carried when we can’t go on. If this reflection helps you breathe, subscribe, share it with a friend on a hard road, and leave a review. Where do you most need to hear “you are with me” today?Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailA hot noon, an empty jar, and a question that disarms: “Will you give me a drink?” We walk to Jacob’s well and linger there, not to rehearse a scandal but to face the ache we recognize in ourselves—thirst that keeps returning no matter how often we succeed, distract, or control. As we read John 4, we trace how Jesus goes through Samaria when others go around, and how that choice becomes a map for grace that moves toward tension and meets people where they hide.We sit with the Samaritan woman’s story and watch the layers come off: the social barriers she names, the honest exposure of her past, and the miracle of presence—He knows and He stays. From there the conversation rises into a new vision of worship, not locked to a holy hill or a distant city but rooted in spirit and truth. We explore how truth without spirit can harden into shame, and spirit without truth can float into denial, and how their union becomes living water that does not run dry by nightfall. Along the way, we ask practical, searching questions about the modern wells we keep drawing from—approval, achievement, distraction—and why they leave us thirsty again.The turning point arrives with a rare clarity: “I am He.” Spoken not to a ruler or scholar, but to a woman at a well at the hottest hour, that revelation reframes who is seen, who belongs, and where God shows up. As Lent guides us, we consider what it means to come as we are, to let ourselves be fully known without fear, and to receive a gift rather than negotiate a wage. If you’ve wondered whether God meets you in the heat of your day, this conversation is an invitation to stop detouring, tell the truth, and drink deeply of grace that stays. Listen, share with a friend who needs hope, and leave a review to help others find the living water too.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailQuestions tend to show up after dark, when the noise fades and honesty has room to speak. We step into that quiet with Nicodemus—respected, thoughtful, and unsure—who meets Jesus at night and leaves with a reimagined path to change. Instead of a checklist or a tighter grip on certainty, Jesus offers an image that disarms our striving: birth by the Spirit. Transformation, he says, isn’t something we engineer. It’s something we receive.We explore how this night conversation reorders the spiritual life. Many of us learned to front-load faith with understanding, then belief, then maybe belonging. Jesus flips the sequence—be loved, come and see, and be changed. That shift matters for Lent and beyond. It invites us to stop performing competence, to bring our confusion into prayer, and to breathe in the freedom of a God who cannot be reduced to formulas. When Jesus speaks of the wind, we hear a gentle warning against control and a hopeful promise: grace arrives where it chooses, and often where we least expect it.Along the way, we reflect on John 3:1–17 with fresh eyes—Nicodemus’s sincere questions, the liberating unpredictability of the Spirit, and the expansive scope of “God so loved the world.” We trace Nicodemus’s quiet arc from secrecy to courage, a reminder that nighttime faith can grow into daylight witness. You’ll hear practical ways to live this out during Lent: simple rhythms for honest prayer, patient engagement with Scripture, and a posture that lets love come first so understanding can grow in time.If you’re carrying doubt, fatigue, or the sense that everyone else “gets it” more than you, this conversation is for you. Press play, bring your questions, and let the candle of love lead you toward dawn. If this resonated, subscribe, share it with a friend who needs hope, and leave a review to help others find the show.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailStart where few of us would choose: the wilderness. We open Lent by tracing Jesus’ path through hunger, power, and the urge to demand a sign—and we discover why these same temptations stalk modern life through quick fixes, control, and certainty-at-any-cost. Instead of pressure or performative devotion, we offer a gentler path: honesty, memory, and the courage to stand in who we already are.We read Luke 4:1–13 and notice something crucial: Jesus is led by the Spirit into the wilderness, not abandoned there. That shifts the frame on our own dry seasons. Hunger exposes what we lean on when strength fades; the promise of power courts us with recognition without formation; and the push to “prove it” dresses doubt in spiritual language. Each time, Jesus answers from identity and Scripture, showing that peace is not control, purpose is not applause, and faith is not theater but trusting presence.Across these reflections, we talk about why survival isn’t the whole of life, how slow obedience outlasts shortcuts, and what it means to stop forcing outcomes and start practicing worshipful attention. We offer a simple daily practice—ten minutes of stillness—to let the noise settle so we can hear the voice already speaking. If you’re wandering through uncertainty, grief, or change, this conversation names the terrain and lights a small, steady candle: you are beloved, held, and led. The wilderness is a chapter, not the ending, and grace keeps returning until we remember.If this resonates, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs courage today, and leave a review so more wanderers can find their way here.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailA smudge on the forehead can feel small, but it opens a wide door. We explore Ash Wednesday as a truthful beginning to Lent—less about performance, more about presence—drawing on the ancient use of ashes as signs of grief, humility, and honest turning. Steve reflects on why last year’s palms become this year’s ashes, how mortality grounds rather than shames, and why the most faithful move we can make may be to stop pretending we’re invincible.Together we reframe repentance as realignment with love, not punishment, and we name the quiet relief that comes when community levels the room: no experts, no winners, just open hands. The ashes don’t change God’s posture toward us; they change ours. That shift invites practical steps—pausing to name a limit, bringing what we cannot fix into God’s presence, and asking a brave question: where am I being invited to turn this season? Along the way, we challenge narrow visions of Lent that focus only on giving things up or on self-improvement, and we move toward relationship, solidarity, and mercy that frees rather than burdens.Whether you come from a liturgical background or have only watched Ash Wednesday from a distance, this conversation offers a gentle doorway into the season. Expect clear language, ancient context, and concrete practices that help real people in real time. If you do receive ashes, receive them as blessing, solidarity, and promise—the promise that God meets us in our limits and walks with us in our uncertainty. If you don’t, inhabit the moment anyway: tell the truth about your life and let love do the growing.If this resonated, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs gentleness today, and leave a review so more people can find a path into an honest Lent. What turn are you being invited to make?Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWhat if the fast God desires looks less like somber faces and more like shared bread, loosened yokes, and mended relationships? We open Isaiah 58 and let it reframe Lent from private sacrifice to public love, from spiritual mood to concrete mercy. Along the way, we confront a piercing truth: you can be spiritually serious and still be misaligned with what God wants most. The remedy is not louder piety but deeper proximity—toward the hungry, the unhoused, the overlooked, and even the kin we’ve learned to avoid.We walk through the prophet’s unsettling clarity and hopeful promise. God is not impressed by symbolic suffering; God is concerned with real suffering. Healing follows love. Light follows justice. Nearness follows participation in God’s work. Instead of chasing renewal without disruption, we let love interrupt our schedules and budgets so there’s room for generosity to move. We explore practical, grounded questions for Lent: where do we hold quiet power—time, money, influence, flexibility—and how might we let it serve someone else’s good? What systems do we benefit from without asking who pays the hidden cost? Where have we normalized distance from pain and called it balance?This conversation is tender with those who carry fatigue. Alignment, not exhaustion, is the call. We suggest small, faithful steps: turn fasting into margin that funds kindness, trade a habit for a human, speak up at work, listen longer at home, and let proximity do its slow work. Isaiah’s closing vision names us repairers of the breach and restorers of streets to live in—ordinary places becoming safer, kinder, more human. If you’ve longed for a Lent that feels meaningful, not just measurable, this is a path where devotion becomes compassion, prayer becomes justice, and faith becomes light.If this resonates, follow the show, share it with a friend who’s preparing for Lent, and leave a short review so others can find these reflections. What will your fast free you to give this week?Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWhat if Lent isn’t about subtracting pleasures but adding presence? We open our hearts to a gentler, braver path into the season by sitting with Matthew 25 and its plain, searching vision of faithfulness: feeding, welcoming, clothing, visiting. No grand gestures. No spiritual scorekeeping. Just the slow courage to notice and to stay. Along the way, we name how distraction, hurry, and self-monitoring can warp Lent into anxiety, and how love interrupts our pace long before it touches our wallet.We trace the subtle but vital movement from private piety to public love, recognizing that Jesus praises not perfected rituals but ordinary attention offered to the least of these. There’s a freedom here: this is fruit, not currency—evidence that the kingdom has taken root, not payment for admission. We don’t have to fix everything. We are called to be faithful somewhere. One conversation, one meal, one visit, one interruption. And we tell the truth that serving won’t always feel meaningful; love is measured not by our sensations but by whether it stays when it’s awkward, tiring, or inconvenient.Lent can become a school for sight. Formation happens through repetition: practice noticing threats and you become anxious, notice inconvenience and you grow irritable, notice need and compassion takes shape. Christ does not hide in riddles; he places himself in ordinary vulnerability right in front of us—at home, at work, in our neighborhoods. So we offer a simple practice for the week: intentionally notice one person you usually rush past and offer something small—time, listening, encouragement, patience, help. Not to earn, but to learn to see. If this reframing resonates, subscribe, share with a friend who’s rethinking Lent, and leave a review with one small act of love you plan to practice this week.Scripture:Matthew 25:31-40Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWhat if the quiet you’re hearing isn’t absence, but invitation? We open season two by stepping into 1 Samuel 3 and the tender moment God calls a sleepy apprentice by name. The word was rare, the lamps were still lit, the rituals kept going—yet clarity felt thin. From that ancient night, we draw a living guide for modern hearts that have learned the sound of notifications but forgotten the shape of holy interruption.We trace Samuel’s missteps without shame. He runs to Eli because he hears a voice and assumes the familiar. It takes time, patience, and a wise nudge to teach him the simplest posture: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” That line becomes our compass. We don’t chase spectacle; we practice availability. We talk about recognizing God’s voice in ordinary moments—a line that lingers, a conversation that won’t let go, a verse that resurfaces when you need it most. We look at repetition not as redundancy but as mercy, the way truth returns until we are ready to receive it.Along the way, we get practical. Start small. Make space for a sentence, not a performance. Notice recurring themes across scripture, conscience, and community. Trust that God plays the long game and isn’t offended by your learning curve. If God called Samuel four times, He can handle your hesitation. And if you’re weary or unsure, take heart: being human is not a defect. It’s the place where grace does its best work.If the season ahead feels crowded or thin, join us as we practice a gentler way to listen. Subscribe, share this with a friend who could use some quiet courage, and leave a review to help others find the show. What simple line is echoing in your life right now?Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailGreetings, Friends!Welcome to Episode 10 of the podcast, and I hope you are all well. In this final episode in the "In the Beginning...Again" series, we look into Revelation a little bit. Revelation is a book filled with so many images and so many things which we have feared and questioned...but what if it isn't all about the end of things, but is a beginning? What if it is happening now, because God is with us, and the end of fear and doubt is upon us because God is with us in our hearts and lives already? Let's talk about it!Scripture:Revelation 21:1-5Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailFriends, welcome back to Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart!! I am thrilled you are here once again! This week we look further into God's beginnings...into freedom, justice, and peace. This week we look at how Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s actions and his own convitcions in his faith and in humans led him to remind us that action is not the absence of peace, and faith and love may yet be found, even in suffering. Please offer a moment of pause to remember this important work toward equality and justice. May we remember Dr. King's words as injustice and oppression are yet present and active. Be safe, my friends, and be well.Scripture:Genesis 1:1-5Amos 5:24Matthew 5:9Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWelcome, friends, to Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart! In this week's installment of our "In the Beginning...Again" series, we're having a look at some familiar fishermen who found a new road when they chose to follow a man who stepped into their boat. Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John. The balance of their overnight struggle to catch fish had left their nets empty, and suddenly Jesus fills them. It is not about obedience, but about trust that Simon Peter puts down his net again. His reaction is not one of celebration, but of humility. This is one of the greatest lessons of all: within the struggle, God is present. That struggle, in that moment when all seems as though it was not worth the work, God shows us a new beginning...a new path. God bless you all, my friends. Love one another and speak hope from your heart.Scripture:Luke 5:1-11Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailGreetings, All!Thank you for joining once again and for listening to Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart! Here in week 2 of our "In the Beginning...Again" series, we are exploring words from the prophet Isaiah. What we witness here is that God offers yet another call out of a darkness of sorts; one that repeats over and over again. Not the same as in Genesis, but a human darkness...a place of hurt and a place of loss. The words "But Now" offer a new beginning, because all the pain and struggle that came before...all of it was about to change with two simple words. Sometimes we all need a "but now," and my friends I tell you truly: we are in this together. Let your light shine brightly, and see that others shine as well. He has called You by name! You are loved!! Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailHello, Friends! In all ways and in all days, God is creating new beginnings for us. Where do we need those new beginnings in our own lives? how can we trust that God is listening? In this episode, we will talk about how God has worked in those spaces and continues to work, creating new beginnings in our lives and in the world all day, every day.Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailShalom, Shalom Friends!We have arrived at Christmas Eve and the Holy Night on which Jesus is born! Thank you for joining Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart here today in celebration! Today, we light the Christ Candle (which is the center white candle if you are unfamiliar with Advent candle ritual) in honor of the night we celebrate the birth of Christ to Mary and Joseph in a stable, as told by scripture. The light has come, and may joy be upon the world! Please do follow along with scripture if you'd like, and to all I wish you a Happy and Safe Holiday season filled with the warmth of family and loved ones. Scripture:Luke 2:1–20John 1:14Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWelcome back! We are in the fourth week of Advent, the week of Love!! If you would like, you may follow along in your own bible with the scripture this episode is based on. In this episode, we will be speaking to the love which God gifts to all of us and how we are called to spill that love out all over the place! This is the light which pulls us together; the light that holds every other flame steady and where all light meets. It is the feeling which warms our hearts and cools a fiery soul. I hope that you go forth to feel the light of love in your own life as we dive into this fourth week of Advent!Scripture:Matthew 1:18–25John 1:1–5, 9–14Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWelcome back to the Podcast in this Week of Joy!! In this episode, we will explore the third theme of Advent and the message of Joy. If you would like, you may follow along in your own bible with the scripture this episode is based on. In this episode, we will be diving a bit into Mary's visit with Elizabeth. More specifically, there is a  moment of joy which swells up in Mary as she finds the words in her heart and speaks to God's love in her Magnificat; one of the earliest hymns celebrated in Christendom and one that is beautifully spoken. May you feel your heart lifted this week as we light the third Advent candle of 2025: the Candle of Joy!Scripture:Luke 1:39-56 (Mary's Magnificat)Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWelcome back to Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart! Thank you so much for returning and for all who listened to the podcast in week one of Advent! If you missed it, pop on back and have a listen anytime you'd like. In this next episode, we will explore the second week of Advent and the message of Christ's Peace. If you would like, you may follow along in your own bible with the scripture this episode is based on (they're written right down below). May you feel your heart filled with calm and stillness this week as we light the second Advent candle of 2025, the Candle of Peace!Scripture:Micah 5:2-4Luke 2:1-14Let's Get Into It!!Let's Get Into It!!

Send us Fan MailWelcome to the Podcast! What a great place to begin...Advent 2025!! In this episode, we will explore the beginning of Advent and the message of Hope in this season. If you would like, you may follow along in your own bible with the scripture this episode is based on. May you feel your heart lifted this week as we light the first Advent candle of 2025, the Candle of Hope!Scripture:Isaiah 9:2–7Luke 1:26–38)Let's Get Into It!!