Category: Applied Theology

Hope Deferred, is Not Hope Denied 

On By Bp. Justin ElwellIn Applied Theology, Inspiration2 Comments

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, “plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jer. 29:11). 

 This verse is often quoted as a personal promise, while not wrong, its original context reveals a deeper truth: it was spoken to the Jewish people at the dawn of exile. God’s plans were not immediate deliverance from such a judgment, but a reminder for faithful endurance. Seventy years would pass before restoration came. Many who heard Jeremiah’s words would not live to see their fulfillment; and yet, the promise stood firm.

 This is the tension we live in: this now but not yet. The Lord’s plans are good (Ps. 119:68), but they unfold in His time. Like the exiles in Babylon, we are called to live, to build, plant, and seek the welfare of the place we are in, even when the moment feels far from His promise.

 But we are not left without hope. Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” Deferred hope speaks to the ache of waiting, whether for healing, reconciliation, calling, or deliverance. It names the soul’s weariness when longing stretches into silence. This phrase “makes the heart sick” isn’t just poetic, it is diagnostic. It recognizes that prolonged disappointment can lead to spiritual fatigue, even faith-fatigue as I’ve often called it, disillusionment, or bitterness. 

 The “tree of life” imagery evokes Eden, divine wisdom (Pro. 3:18), and eschatological renewal (Rev.22:2). Fulfilled desire is not just personal satisfaction, it restores, it renews, and it becomes communal. When hope is realized, it does not just bless the individual, it becomes shade, fruit, and shelter for others. The “tree of life” from the good desire fulfilled speaks of the life seemingly in decline, but suddenly bears beautiful and tasty fruit. The fatigue, disillusionment and bitterness that had wearied the soul, but the Lord promises: “For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish” (Jer. 31:25). 

 Messiah Yeshua/Jesus stepped into our exile, not just from land, but from life itself. He proclaimed liberty to the captives, restored sight to the blind (Lk. 4:18–19), and comforted the weary soul. Through Him, we are no longer exiles, but citizens of a Kingdom that cannot be shaken by the wrestling in this life. 

 Paul echoes this in his final words to Timothy: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim. 4:7). The fight of faith is not a sprint, it’s a long walk of obedience in one direction. It’s trusting that the plans God has for us are not thwarted by delay, disappointment, detours, or the schemes of the enemy. 

 So today, if you find yourself waiting, on healing, on breakthrough, on clarity, remember, delay is not denial. The Lord’s plans are still unfolding. Messiah has secured the future. And like Paul, we are invited to fight faithfully, finish well, and keep the faith.

 Where in your life dear reader do you feel “exiled” from the promises of God? How can you build and bless where you are, even as you wait? What does it look like to “fight the good fight” in this season? Are you living in expectation of hope fulfilled? Do not lose hope, He knows His plan for you. Again, delay is not denial.

 Lord, help us trust Your timing. When the wait feels long, anchor us in Your Word. Let the hope of Messiah sustain us, and may I fight the good fight with courage, knowing You are faithful to complete what You’ve begun. Amen.

Maranatha. Shalom. 

He Heals the Brokenhearted

On By Bp. Justin ElwellIn Applied Theology, InspirationLeave a comment

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Ps. 147:3). 

It is normal to rush past pain, even sensible really. But Psalm 147:3 offers a sacred pause. Is there something for us to receive from the healing of brokenness? Can our healing be used to minister healing to others? 

The psalmist doesn’t declare that God only notices the brokenhearted, he proclaims that God heals them. This is not a distant sympathy, but an intimate act of restoration. The Hebrew word for “heals” (רָפָא, rapha) carries connotations of mending, curing, and making whole. It’s the same word used of God as the Great Physician throughout Scripture.

To be brokenhearted is to carry grief, loss, betrayal, or disappointment so deep it fractures or is fracturing the soul. Yet the psalm assures us: God does not recoil from our wounds. He draws near. Like a skilled surgeon and a tender shepherd, He binds up what has been torn or broken. The imagery evokes Isaiah 61:1, the Anointed sent “The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound,” a promise fulfilled in Yeshua, who bore our sorrows and carried our griefs.

This verse resonates profoundly within messianic faith. Yeshua’s ministry was marked by healing, not just of bodies, but of hearts. He restored dignity to the shamed, voice to the silenced, and hope to the despairing. Those who were rejected by religiosity. His touch was not transactional, it was healing. In Him, the binding of wounds is not a temporary fix, but a sign of kingdom restoration, as in the woman with the issue of blood, whom He called “daughter,” restoring her to life.

Rabbinic tradition often speaks of God as the One who descends into the low places to lift up the fallen. Psalm 147:4 affirms this: the One who numbers the stars also kneels beside the brokenhearted. There is no wound too deep, no sorrow too hidden, that He cannot redeem.

For the weary leader: You do not have to minister from your wounds alone. Let Him bind them first.

For the grieving soul: Your pain is not invisible. God sees, God heals, God stays.

For the harvest laborer: Create spaces where brokenness is not shamed but welcomed, because healing begins with honesty.

Father, Healer of hearts, draw near to every soul carrying silent sorrow. Bind up what has been torn and broken by life, loss, or rejection. May Your presence be the healing balm, Your Word be stitching, and Your Spirit be the comfort. Through Yeshua, our wounded Healer, we receive restoration. In Jesus Name. Amen.

Maranatha. Shalom.

The Cross-Shaped Purpose of Affliction

On By Bp. Justin ElwellIn Applied Theology, Inspiration4 Comments

I once again find myself in a bed of recovery. While I am suffering from an intentional affliction at the hands of a skilled surgeon, the pain is still very real, very present, and loud, in a manner of speaking. This, like any affliction, can be transformative if we keep our eyes on the One who transforms us.

Over the past several days the words of the Apostle Paul have come to mind:

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith,  that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Phil. 3:8–10).

Paul the Apostle was not only a leader; he was a follower. To follow Messiah is to walk the path He walked. His is a path marked not only by glory but also by affliction (Isa. 53:1-12). Paul’s words in Philippians 3 reveal a profound mystery: suffering is not a detour from discipleship. Suffering and affliction can be a doorway into deeper intimacy with Yeshua/Jesus. The Cross is not only the means of our salvation; by faith, it becomes the shape of our life.

Again, Paul writes, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col. 1:24). Paul is not a claim that Messiah’s atonement was incomplete, heaven forbid! But that the visible witness of His suffering continues through His disciples as we share and live out the gospel. We become living testimonies of His sacrificial love.

Still, we must remember that affliction is not punitive, but it can be formative, if we keep our eyes on Him. In Romans 5:3–5, Paul teaches that suffering produces perseverance, character, and hope that does not lead to shame. The Cross-shaped life is one where affliction chisels away self-reliance and forms the likeness of Messiah within us. Again to the words of Paul, “Always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our bodies.  For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh” (2 Cor. 4:10-11).

This paradox, of death bringing life, is the essence of discipleship in Messiah. The Cross is not just the end of sin; it ushers in resurrection power. Yet, as Paul writes, “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Messiah you should not only believe in Him but also suffer for His sake” (Phil. 1:29). Suffering is a gift, a very holy one indeed. When we endure affliction with faith, as we bear witness to the world that Messiah is worthy even in our affliction. Our scars then become sermons.

Peters exhorts us, “Rejoice insofar as you share Messiah’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed” (1 Pet. 4:13). The Cross-shaped life is not one of despair, but of hope. Hope that our sufferings will be used for His glory. In this way, the Cross is not just a symbol, it becomes a way of life in faith.

Messiah: “Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Lk. 4:27).

Maranatha. Shalom.