Devotions with Pastor Stanton

You know that feeling... right after you post a photo or share a thought online? Where you’re watching the eyes watching you. You’re counting the likes. You’re waiting for the comments. In those quiet moments you're basically wondering: "Am I beautiful enough? Am I interesting enough? Am I worth seeing?" Living like that in our daily life can be exhausting because we are  measuring our worth by who is looking at us. But this isn't just a social media phase. It’s a deeply human ache. Today, we're going to meet an Old Testament woman who lived this exact same exhaustion long before a smartphone ever existed. In her story, we’re going to find out how the gaze of God offers the only real rest for a soul that is starving to be noticed.

Jesus once painted a hilarious but convincing picture of someone walking around with a giant wooden log sticking out of their own eye, while trying to pick a tiny speck of sawdust out of another’s. It’s easy to laugh at that image, but how often do you do it? We get so incredibly angry at other people's flaws. But what if God is actually doing something deeper? What if He is using the very splinter in someone else to expose the giant log in our own hidden patterns?

Have you ever felt like God’s guidance is completely missing simply because your life feels incredibly ordinary? You might love the biblical stories of burning bushes and parted seas. You often expect God to guide you with flashing neon signs or overwhelming emotional experiences. But what happens when you wake up, go to work, run errands, and experience absolutely nothing supernatural? You can easily fall into the trap of believing that if a moment isn't spectacular, God must not be active. But what if God’s most profound work is happening right now, hidden in the utterly normal details of your everyday life?

Have you ever tried walking with a backpack filled with heavy rocks? At first, you might manage a decent pace as you lean forward, and push through. But eventually, after a few miles, the weight won’t just exhaust your physical body, it will completely crush your spirit. So many of us are walking through life exactly like this. We are carrying invisible backpacks loaded with the heavy stones of past guilt, present shame, and deep anxiety about the future. We are completely exhausted, and we haven't even reached our destination yet. But God meets us on this road to give us the strength to persevere.

Picture a man kneeling beside a still pond of water. He leans over, looks at his reflection, and he absolutely does not like what he sees. So, what does he do? He plunges his hand in and stirs the water. The face breaks apart. It moves. It distorts. And for a fleeting moment, it feels like something actually changed. But then... the ripples fade. The water settles. And the exact same face comes right back. How often do we do this with our very own lives? We constantly try to change the water and circumstances, fully convincing ourselves that we have somehow changed the person.

Imagine being invited to the home of a billionaire. He looks at you and says, "I want to give you the keys to my estate, full access to my resources, and a guaranteed inheritance that will secure your family's future for generations." And in response, you look back at him and say, "That’s great. But really, if you could just give me five dollars for a cup of coffee on my way home, we’ll be good." It sounds absurd, doesn't it? To be offered something so massive and settle for something so incredibly small. Yet, when it comes to our prayer lives, we often do this exact same thing with the Creator of the universe. He offers us eternal, unshakeable promises, and we often shrink them down to our immediate, temporary comfort.

Have you ever tried to make a deal with God? You probably didn't call it a negotiation, but it sounded something like this: "Lord, if You just get me out of this financial mess, I promise I'll finally start giving." Or, "God, if You heal this relationship, I'll go to church every Sunday." We often treat our faith like a contract negotiation. We want a guarantee of comfort before we give God our complete obedience. We hold our full surrender hostage, waiting for God to meet our specific terms. Today, we are going to look at how God invites us to trade our restless "if" for His restful "I will."

Have you ever gone through a season so difficult that, once it was over, you just wanted to erase it from your memory completely? When we experience pain, discomfort, or failure, our natural human instinct is to run from it, hide it, or throw it away. We want to leave the hardest parts of our story behind us as quickly as possible. But what if the very things that are causing you the most discomfort right now are the exact materials God wants to use to build your greatest testimony? Today, we are going to look at how encountering God's presence changes not just our perspective, but what we do with our pain.

Have you ever found yourself in a season that just feels... completely uncertain? Seasons where your soul feels restless, like you're trying to sleep on a bed of rocks. The hardest part isn't even the discomfort; it’s the spiritual whiplash. You know the promises of God, but your current reality feels like a complete contradiction. You catch yourself asking, "If God is so faithful, why am I here? If He is with me, why does this road feel so incredibly lonely?" Today, we are going to look at a man who was asking those exact questions, and we'll discover how God meets us when we feel the most exposed.

Think about a time you tried to force a heavy door open, throwing all your weight into it, only to realize it was locked from the other side. In the same way, we spend so much energy trying to control our own lives, fighting for control over our families, our careers, and even our futures. We push, we pull, and we scheme. But what happens when our stubborn plans collide head-on with the sovereign will of God? Today, we look at a terrifying but beautiful moment when a man realizes he has been fighting the Almighty, and he finally drops his illusion of control to surrender to the Word of God.

Have you ever decided to "help God out" because He wasn't moving fast enough for your liking? We all have an instinct to take matters into our own hands. When we want something, even a good, God-ordained something, we often adopt the mindset that the ends justify the means. We bend the truth, we force the issue, or we manipulate the circumstances, all under the guise of securing a blessing. But what happens when we try to force God's holy promises through unholy means? Today, we are looking at the painful fallout of trying to grab the steering wheel from God.

We live in a world obsessed with merit. From the classroom grades to the performance reviews at our jobs, to the way we select players for a sports team. Our default operating system is that the best person gets chosen. It makes sense to us. It feels fair. So, because of this, it is incredibly easy to project that same operating system onto God. We secretly assume that God chooses to bless those who have the best moral resumes or the most impressive spiritual track records. But what happens when we look at the people God actually chooses and realize... they aren't the best players on the field?

Have you ever looked around your family, your church, or even your own heart, and wondered: Is things too broken for God to work here? We often carry this quiet assumption that God needs a stable, spiritually impressive environment to accomplish His Sovereign purposes. But what happens when the very people entrusted with God's holy promise are entirely compromised? Today, we are going to look at one of the most famous, and most dysfunctional, families in the Bible, to discover a truth that can anchor us when everything else feels messy.

Have you ever been completely in the right, but found yourself in a bitter conflict anyway? You did the work, you followed the rules, and yet someone else stepped in and claimed the credit or tried to shut you down entirely. Our natural instinct in those moments is to clench our fists. We want to fight for what is rightfully ours. We want to defend our reputation, demand fairness, and force a victory to prove we are right. But what if fighting for control in that very moment actually costs you the very peace God is trying to give you? Today, we are looking at the quiet, un-grasping strength it takes to release our grip and trust God to defend us.

When a severe storm comes and you find yourself in danger, what is your first instinct? You run for cover. You immediately look for a shelter to protect yourself. But what happens when the storm isn't weather, but a threat to your security or your reputation? What materials do you use to build a shelter to protect yourself and your image? We often reach for half-truths, manipulation, or compromise. We think we are just doing what is necessary to survive the storm. But the terrifying truth is that these self-protective fear-shelters are not structurally sound. And the moment they collapse, they inevitably crush the people we love the most. Today, we are exposing the hidden, collateral damage of our self-protective fear.

When hardship hits, it loves to preach. A sudden loss, a difficult diagnosis, or a season of profound waiting, these circumstances climb right into the pulpit of your mind and start telling you who God is. They preach a sermon that says He is distant, uncaring, or slow. And if we aren't careful, we will let our circumstances interpret our God, rather than letting our God interpret our circumstances. Today, we are looking at how to silence the false preaching of our fears and let the Word of God have the final say.

We usually think of fear as a sudden fright, like a a jump scare. But there is another type of calculating fear that I call sinful spiritual fear that is far more dangerous. It’s the quiet panic that sets in when you realize you are losing control of a situation. It’s that slow realization fear that the money is running out, the marriage is growing colder, or the waiting is taking too long. And in that moment, your mind starts racing. You start building contingency plans to save yourself. Why? Because deep down, you suspect God isn't going to act fast enough, or maybe He won't act at all. Today, we’re looking at what happens when our panic threatens to overrule God's promise.

As a people, we are incredibly prone to trade something of immense, long-term value for an instant gratification. We are experts at this kind of exchange. We sacrifice our long-term health for a quick junk meal, our integrity for a fast track to success, or even our future peace for a temporary thrill. But what happens when those temporary appetites and instant gratifications collide with the holy, eternal things of God? Today, we are looking at one of the most famous, and tragic, transactions in the Bible. It’s a moment that forces us to look at the dark reality of our own flesh, and answers one of our biggest questions about the justice and mercy of God.

Have you ever tried to "help" God out? We read His promises, we know what He has said, but when things seem to be moving too slowly, or going in a direction we don't quite understand, we panic. We grab the steering wheel. We operate under the exhausting belief that if we don't manage the situation, God's plan will somehow fall apart. We want to orchestrate outcomes, especially when it comes to the people we love. Well, today, we’re looking at a relatable family where human flesh steps in to control what God has already promised to do. It’s a confronting, yet liberating lesson in learning to finally lay down the reins.

Think about how the world naturally works. The strongest usually wins. The most talented gets the promotion. The one with the best resume gets the job. We are hard-wired to expect a natural order, a ranking system based on merit, birthright, or sheer strength. But what happens when God's grace enters the picture? Does God play by our rules of who deserves what? Today, we are looking at a divine announcement that completely overturns human expectations and proves that God’s grace doesn't consult our earthly resumes.

Have you ever looked around your life, maybe at your family background, your church attendance, or your moral habits, and secretly thought, “This is why God loves me. I’m doing the right things”? It’s a natural human instinct. We want to point to our traditions or our good choices as the reason we possess spiritual life. But what happens when the religious routines feel dry? What happens when you realize that nearness to a church building doesn't guarantee a heartbeat for God? Today, we’re looking at a moment in Genesis that shatters our religious self-sufficiency and shows us exactly where true, breathing spiritual life comes from.

Have you ever read a massive, epic novel, only to find that the final chapter feels completely disconnected from the rest of the story? It leaves you frustrated and confused. The Bible is a library of sixty-six books, written by lots of authors over thousands of years, filled with laws, poetry, prophecy, and history. If you read it looking for random pieces of daily advice, it will feel totally disjointed. But there is a single, unbreakable thread tying the entire story together, and if you miss it, you miss the point of the whole book entirely.

Imagine trying to navigate a big city using a map, but instead of actually looking at the street names and landmarks, you just close your eyes, point to a random spot, and start walking. You'd get lost immediately. Yet, this is exactly how many of us approach the Bible. We dive into the middle of a chapter, ignore the context, and expect God to give us a personalized, magical message for our day. But true understanding doesn't start with what we want the text to say; it starts with doing the hard work of seeing what is actually there.

We live in an age of instant experts. If you don't know how to fix a leaky faucet or cook a perfect steak, then a quick internet search will give you a tutorial in seconds. Because of this, we hate admitting when we don't know something, and we fiercely protect our independence. But what happens when we bring that same "I can figure it out myself" attitude to the Bible? When we refuse to ask for directions in our spiritual lives, we end up arrogant, confused, and missing the heart of God entirely.

Imagine driving down a road. Within just a few miles, you pass three different churches. If you were to walk into each one and ask about major, life-altering issues, things like human sexuality, the sanctity of life, or the nature of salvation, you might get three completely different answers. But here is the crazy part: everyone standing behind those pulpits is holding the exact same Bible. Everyone claims to have a verse to back up what they believe. It forces a terrifying question: How do we know what is true if everyone just has their own interpretation?

Imagine you are at the grocery store. Your cart is overflowing, and when the cashier rings it all up, the total is a massive sum you cannot afford to pay. Just then, a generous friend steps in, swipes their card, and covers the entire cost. You are incredibly relieved. But as you walk toward the exit, a security guard steps in front of the doors and demands to see your proof of payment. It wouldn't matter how much your friend loved you or how sincerely they swiped their card; if you don't have the receipt, you are still legally on the hook for the debt. In the same way, we all carry an insurmountable debt of sin before a holy God. And we desperately need proof that our payment has cleared.

Imagine you are wandering through a blistering desert, desperate for water. After miles of searching, you stumble upon an old stone well. You happen to have a perfectly crafted wooden bucket and a thick, unbreakable rope. With great hope and complete confidence, you lower the bucket down into the darkness. But instead of a splash, you hear a dull, hollow sound. The bucket hits dry dirt. At that moment, you realize that  it doesn’t matter how strong your rope is, how sturdy your bucket is, or how much sincere belief you had that you would find water. Your belief couldn't change the reality at the bottom of the hole. Faith, you see, is only as good as the object it is dropped into.

Imagine walking into a courtroom. A witness takes the stand, places their right hand on a Bible, and swears to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Now, imagine that witness looking the jury dead in the eye and fabricating a story about an event they never saw. In a court of law, that’s called perjury. It’s a serious crime because lives and destinies hang in the balance of a witness’s testimony. When it comes to the origins of the Christian faith, the men who wrote the New Testament were taking the witness stand. And if what they said wasn’t true, it wasn't just a harmless myth or a comforting metaphor, it was the greatest act of perjury in human history.

In the winter of 1979, an Air New Zealand flight took off toward Antarctica. But the night before, a programmer had adjusted the flight’s navigation coordinates by a mere two degrees. To most of us, a two-degree shift seems completely insignificant. But in aviation, it changes everything. Because of that tiny, unknown shift, the plane missed its safe passage and tore into the side of a massive volcano. Over two hundred and fifty lives were lost that day. Today, we have to ask: are we treating our faith with that same dangerous casualness? Do we shift truth by a mere two degrees thinking it is insignificant?

Reading an article sent from a friend. Hoping it would encourage you as you bear your own cross for Christ.

Imagine you are a soldier about to be deployed to the front lines of a fierce battle. You walk into the armory to get your gear, expecting a helmet, body armor, and a powerful weapon. But instead, the quartermaster hands you a small pocket knife, pats you on the back, and says, "Good luck out there." You would immediately panic. You would know, instantly, that you do not have what it takes to survive the mission, let alone complete it. In our daily lives, we often feel just like that soldier. We face daunting tasks, raising children, enduring suffering, resisting temptation, or holding onto faith in a hostile culture, and we feel entirely under-equipped. But God has not sent you into the battle empty-handed.

Imagine walking into an emergency room with a shattered leg. You are in agony, barely able to stand. The doctor walks in, looks at your leg, smiles warmly, hands you a piece of candy, tells you that you look great, and sends you home. You wouldn't call that doctor loving; you'd call them guilty of malpractice! True love in a hospital often involves hard truths, revealing X-rays, the painful resetting of bones, and grueling physical therapy. In a similar way, we often go to the Bible, or Pastors looking for a quick piece of candy, a verse to just make us feel better in our broken state. But God is not a negligent doctor. He is the Great Physician, and His Word does not just coddle us; it heals us.

In the early 1800s, Thomas Jefferson did something shocking. He sat down with copies of the New Testament, a razor, and some glue. He literally cut out the parts of the Gospels he didn't like. He removed the miracles, the supernatural claims, and the resurrection, pasting together a heavily edited version of Jesus that fit his own personal philosophy. We might hear that and be shocked at the arrogance of taking a blade to the Bible. But before we judge him too harshly, we have to ask ourselves a difficult question: Do we do the exact same thing, just without the razor?

Imagine you’re on a ship, caught in a thick, blinding fog. Visibility is completely gone, and you know there are rocks waiting beneath the surface. Suddenly, from the mist, a voice calls out: "I think this is the way! Follow me!" The voice sounds confident. It’s loud. But it’s just guessing. Now imagine the captain reaches into the draw and pulls out a chart, drawn by the One who made the coastline, who knows every reef and every safe channel. Which one do you follow? The guess in the dark, or the maker's map? We live in a world of endless voices: podcasts, influencers, and experts, all claiming to have the way. But today, we are going to look at the only voice that cuts through the fog.

Have you ever spent a ridiculous amount of money on a fancy, gourmet meal, only to find yourself standing in front of your refrigerator looking for a snack just two hours later? There is nothing quite as frustrating as spending your hard-earned money on something that promises to satisfy, but ultimately leaves you empty. We do this physically, but we do it even more often spiritually. We spend our time, our emotional energy, and our lives gorging on the "junk food" of human approval, temporary comforts, and the endless scroll of distraction. We are consuming constantly, yet we are spiritually starving to death. We are desperate for a meal that actually lasts.

Have you ever watched a massive summer thunderstorm roll in? The lightning violently flashes across the sky, the thunder shakes the windows, and it feels overwhelmingly powerful. But ask any experienced farmer, and they will tell you that a flashy, violent storm mostly just produces runoff; it washes the topsoil away. What the dry, cracked ground actually needs is a slow, quiet, steady drizzle. In our spiritual lives, we often beg God for the thunderstorm. We want a spectacular burning bush, a booming audible voice, or a dramatic emotional earthquake to prove He is working. But more often than not, God bypasses the spectacle and chooses to send us the quiet, soaking rain.

Imagine standing at the very bottom of the Grand Canyon, looking straight up at the rim, and deciding you are going to jump to the top. It’s absurd, isn't it? No amount of effort, training, or positive thinking will get you there. Now, multiply that impossible distance by infinity. That is the actual gap between our human minds and the holy, perfect mind of God. Yet, throughout human history, we have been absolutely obsessed with trying to close that gap on our own terms. We are natural-born tower builders, exhausting ourselves trying to stack up enough good deeds or clever philosophies to finally reach the heavens.

If you've ever spent time on a farm, you know the look of a drought. When you stare at a patch of dry, cracked ground, you realize something profound: it is utterly helpless. That dirt cannot reach up and pull the clouds down. It just lies there, broken, barren, and waiting. If we are completely honest with ourselves, that is exactly how our souls feel when heaven seems silent. So we try to search for water substitutes. We try to quench our deep thirst with sugary substitutes. We drink the sweet lemonade of entertainment, we gulp down career success, or we sip on busy, exhausting religion. But like drinking lemonade on a hot day, it only leaves us thirstier. The false moisture vanishes, and we are left cracked and empty all over again.

Have you ever noticed how your appetite works? If you spend the whole afternoon snacking on cheap, processed junk food, you’ll find that when a gourmet, home-cooked meal is placed in front of you, you aren't even hungry for it. You’ve filled up on things that provide a quick hit of salt and sugar but offer zero nourishment. Our spiritual lives work the exact same way. We often wonder why the Bible feels "dry" or "boring" to us, but the truth is usually that we’ve already filled our hearts with the "junk food" of digital distractions, worldly anxieties, and constant entertainment. We aren't hungry for the Truth because we’re stuffed with the trivial.

If you’ve ever had to undergo surgery, you didn't just want a "good" surgeon; you wanted a surgeon with a perfectly calibrated, sterile, and sharp instrument. You wouldn't want someone operating on your heart with a rusty pocketknife. Yet, when it comes to our souls, our deepest anxieties, our hidden guilts, and our moral confusion, we often try to perform "surgery" using the dull, rusted tools of human opinion or self-help trends. We wonder why we aren't healing. Today, we discover that God has provided a tool that is not only sharp but "perfect," a flawless instrument designed specifically to restore our soul.

Have you ever stood on the edge of the ocean or watched a mountain sunrise and felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of "something more"? There is a specific kind of ache that comes when we see something beautiful in nature, a whisper that says there is a Designer behind the design. But as breathtaking as a sunset is, it has its limits. It can tell you that God is powerful, but it can’t tell you if He is merciful. It can tell you He is an artist, but it can’t tell you how He feels about your sin. Nature is a beautiful introduction, but the Word is the intimate conversation.

Have you ever felt like you were drowning in information, but absolutely starving for wisdom? We live in an age where an infinite stream of experts, opinions, and philosophies is available right in our pockets. We’re told to "look inward" to find our truth or "look to the culture" to find our values. But building a life on shifting emotions or cultural trends is like building a brick house on a foundation of sand. It might hold while the sun is shining, but when a storm comes, it cannot hold. So deep down, every one of us is searching for a rock, something outside of ourselves that doesn't change when the storm hits.

Imagine for a moment you were in a high-stakes combat zone. You wouldn’t show up empty-handed, would you? You’d want the most reliable, powerful weapon available. Yet, many of us wander into the fiercest spiritual battles of our lives, the "wilderness" moments of temptation, doubt, and exhaustion, totally unarmed. We try to fight the enemy with our own willpower, our own logic, or our own "good vibes." But Jesus shows us a better way. He shows us that the only way to silence the voice of the deceiver is with the voice of the Creator.

Have you ever been offered a "deal of a lifetime" that felt just a little too good to be true? Maybe it was a career advancement that required a "small" compromise of your integrity, or a way to fix a relationship that meant ignoring God’s clear commands. We live in a culture obsessed with the "hack" and the "shortcut," but in the Kingdom of God, the path to the prize always runs through the process. Today, we look at the moment the enemy offered Jesus the entire world, if only He would skip the pain of the path.

If you were going to fight a championship boxer, you wouldn't want to step into the ring after pulling an all-nighter or missing a week of meals. You’d want to be at your absolute peak. But the enemy of our souls doesn't fight fair. He doesn't wait for you to feel strong, spiritually "up," or well-rested. In fact, he specializes in the "strategy of exhaustion." He waits until you are at your lowest to throw his heaviest punches. Today, we’re looking at how Jesus handled the fight when He was at His weakest.

Have you ever experienced spiritual whiplash? You know the feeling. You’re in a season where everything is clicking. You feel the fresh blessing of God, your prayers feel answered, and you’re walking in joyful obedience and then, out of absolutely nowhere, the bottom drops out. Without a single warning sign, you go straight from the mountaintop into the wasteland. If you’ve ever felt the sting of that sudden transition, I want to encourage you today: you are in good company. Our King has been there too.

Have you ever tried to navigate a completely unfamiliar, pitch-black dark room? You move slowly, arms outstretched, bracing yourself to stub a toe or trip over a rug. You’re guessing where the furniture is based on your "intuition," but intuition is a poor substitute for sight. In the dark, you don't need a lecture on the philosophy of light; you just need someone to flick the switch. Many of us live our spiritual lives like that, stumbling through difficult decisions, grief, or cultural confusion, hoping our "gut feeling intuition" is enough to get us through. But the Apostle Peter tells us we don't have to stumble. God hasn't left us in the dark; He has given us a lamp that never runs out of oil.

Imagine there is an old boat sitting in the middle of an ocean. It has a rudder, a hull, and massive white sails, but it isn’t going anywhere. It’s "dead in the water." But then, winds begins to blow. The sails snap tight, the wood creaks, and the ship begins to move and cut through the waves. The ship is moving, but it isn’t the ship providing the power—it’s the wind. This is the exact imagery the Apostle Peter uses to describe how your Bible was written. Using this imagery, He wanted to show how a book written by men, with all their different personalities and styles, could be the perfect, errorless Word of God? The answer is found in the "Wind."

Imagine for a moment that you were there on the Mount of Transfiguration. You saw Jesus’ face shine like the sun, his clothes becoming white as light. You saw Moses and Elijah appear out of thin air, and then, a literal cloud overshadowed you and a booming voice from heaven said, "This is my beloved Son." If you had seen that with your own eyes, you’d think your faith would be bulletproof for the rest of your life, right? You’d never doubt again. But the man who actually stood on that mountain, the Apostle Peter, has a surprising message for us today. He tells us that as incredible as that "mountaintop experience" was, we actually have something even more reliable.

In the spring of 1521, a lone monk named Martin Luther stood before the most powerful men in the world. He was told to take back everything he had written or face the stake. Most of us would have crumbled under that kind of pressure. But Luther didn’t. He looked them in the eye and said, "My conscience is captive to the Word of God... Here I stand." We might ask ourselves, where do you get that kind of courage? It doesn't come from self-confidence or a "new spiritual experience." In fact, our scripture tells us that it comes from knowing exactly where the Bible originates from. Today, we’re looking at the source of our strength: the source of the Word.