Trial of Life

What Truly Works to the Benefit of the Christian — Fruit Now, Glory to Come

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?” — Romans 8:31 (ESV)

This verse is often quoted as if it guaranteed a trouble-free road. It does not. The very passage it comes from speaks of suffering, weakness, groaning, endurance, and hope under pressure. Being “for us” does not remove all resistance — it secures the outcome.

I have lived among Christians long enough to say this plainly and carefully: We often miss the fundamentals. We speak of faith yet walk in the flesh. We confess surrender yet still chase recognition. We say eternity matters, yet structure our lives around temporary measures. Scripture cuts through that confusion with a simple test — fruit.

A tree is known by its fruit — not by its claims, not by its vocabulary, not by its associations, but by its fruit.

If we strip away the noise and let Scripture interpret Scripture, we reach solid ground. What truly works for the benefit of the Christian — not only in eternity, but also in this present life?

All Things Are Put to Work — Not Just the Pleasant Ones

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” — Romans 8:28 (ESV 

Not some things — all things.

Trials, delays, losses, exposure, correction, waiting, pressure — even our failures, when brought under repentance and grace. Not all things are good, but all things are made to serve God’s good purpose for the believer.

Scripture clearly defines what is good — that we are conformed to the image of His Son. The primary benefit is not comfort. It is a transformation.

The Flesh Competes with the Footsteps

Much of our instability comes from trying to walk with Christ while still being driven by the flesh. It shows in what we pursue and what we celebrate — status, security, applause, visible success. We put more effort into worldly acknowledgement than into spiritual persuasion.

Then, when life tightens its grip, we either cry out only when desperate or drift into a victim mindset.

But Jesus made the measure plain — fruit reveals the root.

The fruit of the Spirit — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control — are not decorative virtues. They are practical strengths and present benefits.

Peace steadies the mind.
Patience slows destructive reactions.
Self-control prevents regret.
Faithfulness builds trust.
Love restores and sustains relationships.

This is not theory — this is lived advantage formed by the Spirit of God.

Scripture does not teach empty endurance now, with reward only later. It teaches present value and future glory.

Scripture teaches that present benefits are real—just often mismeasured.

“Godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.” — 1 Timothy 4:8 (ESV)

Present benefits include a steadier inner life, a clearer conscience, sharper discernment, greater restraint, healthier relationships, and deeper fellowship.

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you.”

— Isaiah 26:3

That is not only future — that is now.

Pressure Is Not the Enemy — It Is the Revealer

“Count it all joy… when you meet trials… for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” — James 1:2–3

Pressure exposes foundations. Without testing, much of what we believe about ourselves would remain untested. Testing turns confession into substance — or exposes it as imitation.

Discipline also belongs to the category of benefit when understood correctly.

“For the moment all discipline seems painful… but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.” — Hebrews 12:11

Discipline is not rejection — it is training. Its outcome is righteous stability with peace.

The Law of Sowing and Reaping Still Operates

“Whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” — Galatians 6:7

Sowing to the flesh produces corruption and instability. Sowing to the Spirit produces life and durability. There is often a delay — but there is always a harvest.

The fruit itself is part of the reward. Peace is fruit and reward. Joy is fruit and reward. Self-control is fruit and protection. God does not merely command qualities — He grows them, and they bless the one who bears them.

Moses — A Living Example of the Tree and Its Fruit

If we want a clear biblical example of a tree known by its fruit, we can look to the life of Moses. His life was neither easy, celebrated, nor comfortable. It was stretched across obscurity, pressure, resistance, and responsibility — yet the fruit is undeniable.

He spent forty hidden years before forty visible years. Shepherding sheep prepared him to shepherd people. Silence prepared him for authority. Humbling prepared him for usefulness. God grows roots before branches. His delays are often rooting work.

Under pressure, his fruit showed. Scripture records his meekness — strength under control. He endured complaint, interceded for those who opposed him, obeyed difficult instructions, and repented when corrected. Fruit proves itself under strain, not in ease.

He also experienced present benefits—nearness to God, clear direction, and recognised spiritual authority. Presence, not position, was the great reward.

And what he left behind measures the tree even more clearly. A formed covenant people. Revealed law. Worship patterns. Leadership structures. A prepared successor. Written testimony still feeds generations. He did not leave monuments — he left a movement. Not comfort — but covenant.

He also reminds us that fruitfulness does not remove accountability. Even faithful servants are corrected. That, too, is a benefit when received properly.

The Anchors That Should Steady and Stir Us

The Christian life stands on three steady realities: calling, conformity, and glory.

We are called by mercy, not merit.
We are conformed through process, not comfort.
We are headed toward glory, not mere survival.

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” — 2 Corinthians 4:17

When the reward is seen clearly, the road is understood correctly.

Final Reflection

If God is for the believer, opposition cannot cancel God’s intention — but it will often be used to carry it forward.

The benefit is not the removal of the fire, but the formation within it.

Not ease — but endurance.
Not applause — but fruit.
Not comfort — but conformity.

And not empty in the present — but filled with real, Spirit-worked benefit along the way.

Fruit now.
Strength now.
Formation now.
Glory later — beyond comparison.

A tree is known by its fruit — and fruit is known by what remains when the season changes.

Rooted in obedience.
Proven under pressure.
Measured by what remains.

Signing off

 Tyrone

 

Thy Will Be Done

 Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will Be Done” — Heaven’s Rule on Earth

There are phrases in Scripture so familiar that they are often spoken without reflection.
“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”
— Matthew 6:10

The prayer taught by Jesus in Matthew chapter 6 — commonly known as the Lord’s Prayer and often referred to as “Our Father” because of its opening words — has shaped the lives of countless people over centuries. For many, it has become a recitation in parrot fashion: words spoken repeatedly as a form of penance, prescribed by a man in a collar and measured by the perceived weight of one’s sin.

If one pauses to truly unpack this practice with even a little discernment, the conclusion is uncomfortable but unavoidable: much of it is window dressing. Deceit once again runs riot. Yet Scripture has always done one thing consistently — it exposes the lie.

This is precisely why I love my Saviour, who is the Word made flesh. He was never afraid to confront error head-on. Truth was never negotiable with Christ, and by the grace of God, truth will remain a priority here as well.

A Sobering Responsibility

Scripture’s warnings are not light. James writes plainly:

“Let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment.”

That verse should sober anyone who handles the Word publicly. I confess that it sobers me. I have, in the past, approached Scripture loosely, without the careful handling it deserves. I suspect I am not alone. We all carry a default self-button — something we instinctively reach for, often subconsciously.

Yet growth often comes through correction.

I do not claim to be the best teacher. What I do claim is this: what I have received and handled carefully, I will, by the grace of God, pass on. There is too much truth at stake to remain silent, whatever the cost. And there is always a cost — sometimes from without and sometimes from within.

Every believer will one day stand before the judgment seat of Christ. Our works will be tested. I cannot shake the parable of the wise and foolish servants — it plays on repeat in my mind like a film I cannot switch off.

Back to the Mirror

Are there areas in my life that need addressing? Absolutely.
And this is precisely where verse 10 of the Lord’s Prayer lands with force.

“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.”

Billions have prayed these words over time. But how many have stopped to weigh what they are truly asking?

When I wake in the morning, do I consider my Father God’s will? Do I ask how my choices, my speech, and my obedience — or lack thereof — align with heaven’s order? Or do I default to routine, comfort, and self-direction?

Back to the mirror I go.

What Is the Kingdom of God?

 Is a place of rule.

Where God’s will is fully obeyed without resistance, the Kingdom is present. Heaven operates in perfect alignment with God’s authority. There is no negotiation, no delay, no compromise. God speaks — and it is done.

Earth, however, has always struggled with competing wills.

From Eden onward, sin has been rooted in resistance to God’s authority, not merely disobedience but the insistence: “I will decide.”

When Christ teaches His disciples to pray this way, He is not offering poetic language — He is teaching surrender.

A Dangerous Prayer (If We Mean It)

This is not a prayer to be prayed casually.

If God’s will be fully done on earth:

• Pride would be dismantled
• Compromise would be exposed
• False authority would collapse
• And sin would lose its hiding places

Including us.

This is why many are comfortable praying for provision but uneasy about praying for God’s will. Provision sustains us. God’s will transforms us — often painfully so.

Christ Himself prayed, “Not My will, but Yours be done.”
The Kingdom came through obedience, not avoidance of the cross.

Living Before Provision

Only after this surrender does the prayer move on to provision:

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

That order matters.

Only when God’s will becomes our intent does provision take its rightful place. Life, of course, often unfolds in reverse — we seek provision first and alignment later. Yet Christ teaches us a better order.

It is crucial that we unpack this verse with seriousness and humility, because it exposes our priorities with brutal honesty.

Final Reflection

Thy kingdom come is not a demand for heaven on our terms.
Thy will be done is not a slogan.

It is a call to live under God’s authority — beginning with our own hearts.

Not someday.
Not only globally.
But here.
And now.

And yet, Father God, we know that resolve and intent are no good unless we are covered by the grace of God. Without your help in our lives, we can achieve nothing.

I just want to say thank you for your grace in my life. All hail King Jesus. I pray for all who have been covered by the blood of Christ.

Signing off,
Tyrone

Lost in Translation

 

Getting Lost in Translation — Life Only Begins in Christ

This is not a comfortable read, and it is not meant to be. Eternity is too long, truth is too important, and deception is too deadly for soft words and half-measures. What follows is not opinion, philosophy, or religious noise — it is a wake-up call rooted in Scripture, written out of concern for your soul and grounded in one unchanging truth: life begins only in Christ.

It is easy to get lost in translation. That phrase alone can be unpacked in many ways, but at its heart lies a sobering truth: life truly begins only after our encounter with Jesus Christ the Lord.

By default, we all pursue what we call “life.” We plan, strive, build, worry, and survive. Scripture reminds us how limited this pursuit is: “The days of our lives are seventy years; and if by reason of strength they are eighty years, yet their boast is only labour and sorrow” (Psalm 90:10). Three score and ten — and whatever we can squeeze out beyond that — and then our mission, as the world defines it, comes to an end.

If I look honestly at the latter part of my life, the questions become painfully practical: How do I make time for this? How do I survive? Without Christ, those questions would leave me panicked. If I did not have a Saviour in my corner, I would have no anchor.

Thank You, Jesus.

I genuinely do not know how people face tomorrow without the assurance of heaven and the bliss that comes with it — the prize after the struggle. This hope enables me to press through the daily grind of life. As Paul writes, “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most pitiable” (1 Corinthians 15:19). Yet our hope is not limited to this life. It is rooted in the finished work of the cross.

Scripture speaks plainly of the day when we will finally put off this body of death. Paul cries out, “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” and answers his own question: “I thank God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24–25). One day, this perishable body will be exchanged for a glorified one. “For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality” (1 Corinthians 15:53).

The truth, whether people like it or not, is that we will all receive eternal bodies. This is not up for debate. God has instituted it. “But now, O Lord, You are our Father; we are the clay, and You our potter; and all we are the work of Your hand” (Isaiah 64:8). He is the Creator; we are His creation. The question is not whether eternity awaits us, but where and under what judgment.

Scripture leaves no room for comfortable ambiguity. “It is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment” (Hebrews 9:27). Toe the line or pay the price — and remember, the price is not merely a struggle for a season, but eternal.

Yet we are surrounded by affirmations, universe worship, self-exaltation, and endless spiritual noise. Frankly, it is garbage dressed up as enlightenment. It grieves me to see how many are embracing these lies. God warned us long ago: “For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires… they will turn their ears away from the truth” (2 Timothy 4:3–4).

There is only one solution. One truth. One substitute.

“Jesus in my place.”

I believe it is time to take off the gloves. No more tiptoeing around sensitivity as souls drift towards destruction. Scripture does not whisper this message; it proclaims it. “Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out” (Acts 3:19). True repentance is not intellectual agreement — it is brokenness, crying out to Jesus with tears and absolute sincerity. When that happens, the penny drops. “For God, who commanded light to shine out of darkness, has shone in our hearts” (2 Corinthians 4:6).

There is no other way. Period. Jesus Himself said it plainly: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). Yes, there are many voices promoting many different paths, but hear me clearly — they all lead to death. Not just death in this life, but eternal judgment. Scripture calls it “the lake of fire” (Revelation 20:15). This is not a metaphor to be softened or ignored.

WAKE UP and hear me clearly, please.

I am writing this because I am concerned for your well-being. What do I gain from your conversion? Nothing. So why do I keep beating the same drum? Because salvation is free. “By grace you have been saved through faith… not of works, lest anyone should boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9). Having received it freely, I now desire to pass it on freely.

This is about eternity.

This is about truth.

This is about Jesus — in your place.

 

Signing off

Tyrone

 

Jesus in my Place

 

True Happiness Begins With Repentance

What does true happiness really look like? And what does the Bible teach us about finding this truth in our lives?

The world and Scripture do not merely offer different answers—they offer opposing paths.

The world links happiness to gain: more money, affirmation, love, and personal fulfilment. The promise is simple—add more, feel better. Yet Scripture exposes this as a lie. Solomon, who possessed wealth, wisdom, and power beyond measure, concluded that life pursued under the sun is ultimately empty.

“Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.” (Ecclesiastes 1:2)

True happiness is not found in accumulation but in revelation—the moment a person realises that life is eternal and that the path they are on is fundamentally wrong.

That realisation calls for repentance.

Jesus Himself makes this unmistakably clear:

“Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” (Luke 13:3)

True happiness begins the day we understand that we are not merely lacking something—we are guilty before a holy God. Repentance is not self-improvement; it is a turning, a change of mind and direction. It is the surrender of self-rule and the acknowledgment that our way leads to death.

It is here that the confession takes its true form:

“Jesus in my place.”

This confession is not sentimental. It is born of repentance and grounded in substitution. Scripture defines it plainly:

“For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)

To say “Jesus in my place” is to confess that I should have been condemned. It is to agree with Scripture that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23) and that Christ bore that penalty on our behalf.

Without repentance, this confession is hollow. Without repentance, Christ becomes an addition to our lives rather than their substitute. And without substitution, there is no gospel—only religion.

Peter connects repentance directly to restoration and joy when he declares:

“Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.” (Acts 3:19)

Everything that follows flows from this root. What the world calls happiness is often nothing more than managed sin—temporary comfort built on unrepentant hearts. Get the emphasis wrong, even slightly, and doubt will soon follow, because joy cannot grow in soil that refuses to turn.

True repentance restores God to His rightful place.

It acknowledges Him as the Creator of heaven and earth (Genesis 1:1), not a concept or a helper, but the sovereign Lord. It teaches us to hallow His name, not merely to speak it, as Jesus instructed:

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name.” (Matthew 6:9)

Any theology that shifts this centre—softening sin, diminishing substitution, or elevating the self—does not merely weaken the gospel. It distorts it. Scripture warns that exchanging the truth of God for something else is a grave error (Romans 1:25).

The world says happiness comes from finding yourself.

Scripture says happiness begins when you deny yourself (Luke 9:23).

The world promises fulfilment now.

The Bible anchors joy in forgiveness and eternity:

“Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.” (Psalm 32:1)

The world builds happiness on self-worth.

Christ establishes it on repentance, grace, and righteousness credited, not earned.

“Jesus in my place.”

Spoken rightly, these words are a confession of guilt, a turning of the heart, and the doorway to true happiness.

Everything else is noise

To God be the glory now and forever more, Amen!

Signing off

Tyrone.

ORDER!

 

Love invites. Repentance Responds. Grace Empowers. Discipline Corrects.

So, this morning, at my desk with an espresso in hand, my mind is frantically at work. It seems to be way ahead of the rest of my body, considering my position in life and my responsibility to my great God and Father.

The main question—why? —is at the forefront of my thoughts. Why do I find myself in this position? Is it the consequence of rebellion over time, or is it simply a test, or perhaps both?

The reality of a verse like “be anxious for nothing” is undeniably biblical. If God has said it, it must be applied to our lives. Yet conditions affect our mindsets—it cannot be helped. I can tell myself not to be anxious, but concern remains. The responsibility to provide does not disappear simply because anxiety is forbidden.

It is in moments like these that I can see, from Scripture, how God’s grace, discipline, and consequences often work together in His loving guidance.

Love invites

Everything in the Gospel begins with God’s love. Love is not a response to our goodness; it is the cause of our calling.

“We love Him because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

God’s love invites us into relationship, not through fear or force but through mercy. Jesus’ call— “Come to Me”—is an open invitation grounded in compassion. Without love, correction loses its redemptive power; with love, it restores and heals.

Love reminds us that our current position—however uncomfortable—does not constitute abandonment.

Repentance responds

Repentance is the proper response to love. Scripture teaches that repentance flows from God’s kindness, not from shame.

“God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance.” (Romans 2:4)

Repentance asks the uncomfortable but necessary question: Is my present condition shaped by obedience, neglect, rebellion, or growth through testing? This is not self-condemnation—it is alignment with truth.

Grace empowers

Grace sustains repentance and enables transformation. It neither excuses sin nor equips obedience.

“The grace of God has appeared… training us to renounce ungodliness.” (Titus 2:11–12)

Without grace, we become judges and hypocrites—demanding righteousness while ignoring our own failures (Matthew 7:3). Grace humbles the heart before it corrects behaviour. It allows me to acknowledge responsibility without despair and to remain dependent on God’s provision.

Discipline corrects

Biblical discipline flows from grace, not judgment.

“Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline.” (Revelation 3:19)

Discipline is not God “getting even”; it is God getting our attention. Often, discipline comes through allowed consequences rather than immediate rescue.

“Whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” (Galatians 6:7)

David: forgiven, yet disciplined (2 Samuel 12)

David’s account in 2 Samuel 12 provides one of the clearest biblical pictures of discipline operating within grace.

After David’s sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah, God sent Nathan the prophet—not to destroy David, but to confront him. Nathan’s parable exposed David’s sin before David ever realised it was about him. When Nathan declared, “You are the man” (2 Samuel 12:7), David did not excuse himself—he repented.

David’s response was immediate and honest:

“I have sinned against the Lord.” (2 Samuel 12:13)

Nathan’s reply is crucial:

“The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.”

Forgiveness was granted instantly. The relationship was restored. Condemnation was removed.

Yet discipline followed.

Nathan explained the consequences: the sword would not depart from David’s house, public unrest would arise from private sin, and the child born of the affair would die. These consequences were not vengeance but correction—revealing the seriousness of sin, particularly for a king entrusted with leadership.

David fasted, prayed, and pleaded for the child’s life, yet God allowed the consequence to stand. When the child died, David worshipped. He understood something essential: God’s discipline had not removed God’s presence. David remained chosen, loved, and empowered for service—but changed.

Psalm 51 flows from this moment, revealing a man broken, restored, and realigned.

Personal reflection: learning from David without presumption

David was a king—anointed and chosen by God. I do not dare to place myself in the position David held. I do not carry a crown, a kingdom, or the covenant responsibility of an anointed king. Scripture warns against elevating oneself beyond one’s measure, and wisdom demands humility.

Yet David’s story is not irrelevant. It is instructive.

The parallel is not status, but response:

• David was confronted—and he did not deflect.
• David was exposed—and he did not justify.
• David was disciplined—and he did not abandon God.

When my sin or failure is revealed, do I repent—or rationalise?
When consequences arise, do I submit—or resent?
When correction is painful, do I worship—or withdraw?

David’s greatness lay not in his authority but in his humility under correction. If David—a deeply flawed king—could respond rightly, then I can learn to respond faithfully, even in the small but weighty responsibilities of my own life.

Discipline is proportionate to responsibility. I may not rule a kingdom, yet God disciplines me because I am His child. Grace assures me I remain loved, even as consequences teach me obedience, humility, and wisdom.

The fruit of discipline

“For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.” (Hebrews 12:11)

Discipline exposes deception, tempers pride, and anchors faith in truth rather than in emotion.

The biblical order matters

Love invites us in.
Repentance turns us around.
Grace empowers obedience.
Discipline keeps us aligned.

Remove grace, and discipline becomes legalistic.
Remove discipline, and grace is misunderstood as permission.

Together, they reveal a God who lovingly calls, patiently restores, powerfully transforms, and faithfully corrects His people—even in seasons of uncertainty.

 

Signing off

Tyrone