The Cross-Shaped Purpose of Affliction

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.

Drop the Stones

We Are Not the Final Judge

“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her” (Jn. 8:7).

Stones have been exchanged for keystrokes. It seems with every post, article, and every thought, we find more saints willing to throw stones from their keyboards. Should we not approach correction, question, even rebuke in the digital space as we would in person? We turn, as always, to Messiah. 

In the Temple courts, the scribes and Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery before Yeshua/Jesus. Their hands were not empty. They carried stones. Not just physical ones, but theological ones, judicial ones, stones of condemnation shaped by their interpretation and practice of Torah and tradition. They sought to trap the Yeshua with a test of judgment. But He, the Word made flesh, even Hesed (loving-kindness) itself, knelt and wrote in the dust.

He did not dismiss the seriousness of sin. He did not deny the call to righteousness. But He exposed the deeper truth: we are not the final judge. Consider: 

Matthew 7:1-5: “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

John 7:24: “Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.”

As sinners saved by grace, we must recognize the grace we have received, even the grace we are yet receiving as we walk with Jesus. We are being perfected, but we are not yet perfected. We cannot righteously judge with a log in our eye, we must be circumspect, fearful, and humble. The measure we use should be charitable, not condenming. 

Matthew 7:1-5 is not a verse forbidding righteous judgment, but rather, hypocritical judgment. Judgment in hypocrisy. John 7:24 reminds us that there will be times when we must render a judgment, but not one based on appearances. In order to be righteous judgment, it must be done in concert with others not biased or entangled in the situation, people of standing and good reputation in the community. Then, and only then can we move past appearances, discern, and make correction according to the Word of God. 

As disciples of Messiah, we are called to discern, to uphold truth, and to walk in righteousness. Judgment is not forbidden, it is required. But the posture of judgment must be one of humility, not superiority. We do not carry stones in our hands; we carry the mercy of the One who bore our judgment on the Cross. We rely on the Word of God. 

The Torah teaches us to “judge your neighbor righteously” (Lev. 19:15), but it also commands, “Do not hate your brother in your heart” (Lev. 19:17). Righteous judgment in community is not about condemnation, it is about restoration. It is not about finality, it is about invitation to His holiness. When we forget this, we become like the accusers: eager to expose, slow to restore.

Yeshua’s response was not lawless, it was deeply lawful. He upheld the Torah’s demand for justice while revealing the heart of the Father: slow to anger, while abounding in steadfast love. He did not throw the stone. He bore the weight of it.

So we must ask: what do we carry in our hands? Are we quick to cast verdicts, or are we willing to kneel in the dust beside the broken? Do we speak truth with the intent to heal, or with the desire to win?

We are not the final judge. That seat belongs to the One who sees every heart, every motive, every wound. Our role is to reflect His justice with mercy, His truth with grace, His authority with humility. 

Let us drop the stones. Let us lift up the fallen. Let us judge righteously, but never forget that judgment belongs to the Lord. He took the stones for us, every stone we rightly deserved, He received. This is not a message to ignore sin, or not stand for His truth, but to drop the stones we, as saints, are so willing to throw at each other when the log is in our eyes, and the facts are obscured. 

Maranatha. Shalom. 

Shepherds After God’s Own Heart

Pastoral ministry is not a profession, it is a vocation, even a sacred trust. The apostle Paul, in his farewell to the Ephesian elders, reminds us that the flock we tend was purchased at the highest cost: the precious blood of Messiah. This truth alone should fill every pastor’s heart with trembling reverence and holy resolve.

“Take heed to yourselves and to all the flock, among which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to shepherd the church of God which He purchased with His own blood” (Acts 20:28).

Our vocation comes by the calling of Christ. Our training by the study of God’s Word, taught by the Holy Spirit, at the feet of proven, elder ministers and teachers. Our principal study is the Word of God, with our mission the tending to and salvation of souls. Keeping always before us this high calling cuts through distractions and vain ambitions. Faithfulness in prayer, worship and devotion will continually draw us back to the two pillars of pastoral vocation: the Word and the care of the soul. 

The Anglican Bishop JC Ryle wrote:

 “Like the sower, the preacher must sow good seed if he wants to see fruit. He must sow the pure Word of God, and not the traditions of the church or the doctrines of men. Without this, his labor will be vain. He may go to and fro, and seem to say much, and to work much in his weekly round of ministerial duty, but there will be no harvest of souls for heaven, no living results, and no conversions.

Like the sower, the preacher must be diligent. He must spare no pains; he must use every possible means to make his work prosper; he must patiently sow beside all waters, and sow in hope. He must “instant in season and out of season,” he must not be deterred by difficulties and discouragements; “he that observeth the wind shall not sow.” No doubt his success does not entirely depend upon his labor and diligence, but without labor and diligence success will not be obtained (Isa. 32:30; 2 Tim. 4:2; Ecc. 11:4). 

Like the sower, the preacher cannot give life. He can scatter the seed committed to his charge, but he cannot command it to grow: he may offer the word of truth to a people, but he cannot make them receive it and bear fruit. To give life is God’s solemn prerogative: “It is the Spirit that quickenth.” God alone can “give the increase” (Jn. 6:63; 1 Cor. 3:7). 

Let these things sink down into our hearts. It is no light thing to be a real minister of God’s Word. To be an idle, formal workman in the church is an easy business; to be a faithful sower is very hard. Preachers ought to be specially remembered in our prayers.”

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, reflecting on leadership, said, “A leader is one who takes responsibility.” In the pastoral context, this means bearing the burdens of the people with compassion, while lifting their eyes to the greatness of God. We are not CEOs or entertainers, we are under-shepherds of the Good Shepherd, entrusted with the care of eternal souls.

Paul’s exhortation in Acts 20 is both sobering and empowering. “The Holy Spirit has made you overseers,” you did not appoint yourself. You were chosen, anointed, and sent. This divine commissioning is not a burden to bear alone, but a grace we walk in daily with the Holy Spirit.

Dear shepherd of God’s people, when the weight of ministry feels heavy, remember: you are not alone. The Chief Shepherd walks with you. The Word you preach is living and active. The people you serve are beloved of God. Your labor is not in vain.

Let your study of Scripture be a sanctuary. Let your care for souls be your joy. Let your leadership be marked by humility, courage, and love. You are doing holy work. You are laboring in His harvest field. You are, and you should prayerfully be, a shepherd after God’s own heart.

Lord, strengthen every pastor who reads this. Renew their vision, restore their joy, and remind them of the sacredness of their calling. May they teach Your Word with clarity, care for Your people with compassion, and lead with wisdom born of a deep relationship with Jesus. Let them feel Your pleasure in daily walk and work. Protect and encourage their families. Give them strength to labor, and wisdom to rest. And may all they do be for Your glory. Amen.

Be encouraged, the Lord knows your heart and commitment. 

Maranatha. Shalom.