by Kevin Tillman | Feb 19, 2026 | Blog, Thoughts
Faith is funny because most of us think of it as a point we reached at some time in the past. A decision, a prayer, or a moment we could circle on a calendar. But, when you spend time with Abraham’s story you start realizing his life didn’t really work like that. Nothing about it was tidy enough to circle.
God didn’t sit him down and explain the whole future. He told him to go… and promised clarity would come somewhere “out there” on the road. That had to feel strange. We prefer the opposite order. We want the explanation first so we can decide if obedience seems like a good idea or not. That’s where most of the tension lives for us. Not in believing God exists, but in moving without knowing how this whole thing is going to turn out.
What always stands out to me is that Abraham’s biggest problems didn’t come from rejecting God. They came from trying to help Him. Years had passed after the promise of a son. Silence was wearing on him. Eventually that waiting led to feelings of irresponsibility. So he made a decision that felt practical at the time. Not rebellious… practical. That’s what makes it relatable.
We do it all the time. We fill in the blank because God hasn’t given us an answer. We push conversations forward because we’re tired of not knowing. We’re tired of waiting! We tell ourselves we’re just being wise or proactive. Later we realize we mostly just didn’t like uncertainty and we missed having control. Control is comforting for a short period of time, but then it starts creating things we have to manage.
There’s something hard about letting God be slow. Not lazy slow… deliberate slow. It starts forming a patience in you whether you asked for it or not. I know in my life some of the hardest acts of faith have been the invisible ones. Not the big, bold decisions, but the subtle ones that required a quiet restraint. The moment you decide not to force an answer doesn’t receive applause. Actually, most people will never even know. But little by little, decision by decision it changes you.
You see it in Abraham building altars in different places along the way. No big speeches recorded. Just markers… God met me here, I trusted Him here, I’m still trusting Him now. A life shaped more by repetition than intensity. A life shaped by a series of small choices. Transformation isn’t always some big dramatic moment. A lot of it just feels like returning to the same trust over and over again until it becomes instinct.
Then there’s the moment nobody wants… that Isaac moment. The part of the story that always feels heavier when you slow down and reflect. God pressing His hand on the very thing that explained everything else in Abraham’s life. The promise itself. I don’t think surrender ever feels natural. It feels like handing God the one thing that finally made you feel settled and hearing Him say, trust Me with that too.
The strange part is how often peace shows up right after release. Not always immediately, but eventually. Carrying something tightly creates a constant fear of losing it. Giving it to God doesn’t make it disappear… it just means the outcome isn’t yours to hold together anymore.
By the time you reach the end of Abraham’s life there’s no dramatic closing scene. Scripture just says he died “satisfied with life”. I like that so much, because it sounds quieter than victory. More like someone who lived long enough to see that God had been faithful even when he wasn’t. And somehow the faith kept going after him. Isaac had watched him long before Isaac ever had to trust God personally.
That’s usually how it works. People don’t absorb faith mainly through what we say. They absorb it through what they keep seeing. How you react when things fall apart. Whether you panic or pray first. Patterns preach way louder than words, and their impact last longer.
Abraham didn’t do everything right. That’s probably why his story helps. He veered off course more than once, but he kept turning back the same direction. Over time that direction mattered more than the detours.
Maybe that’s what faith actually is. Not a flawless line forward. More like a person who keeps reorienting themselves toward God over and over and over. Some days confidently, some days barely… but still turning.
Eventually all those turns become a path. And one day you look back and realize the destination wasn’t a place you arrived at all at once. It was the person you became while you kept walking.
by Kevin Tillman | Jan 1, 2026 | Blog, Thoughts
Most days don’t begin with clarity. They begin with noise.
Notifications. Conversations. Responsibilities waiting in line before we’ve even taken a breath. And somewhere between waking up and getting moving, we quietly decide what kind of day this will be—often without realizing we’ve done it.
That’s usually how years start too.
Not with bold resolutions or confident faith, but with momentum. We carry last year straight into the next one. Same worries. Same expectations. Same internal limits we’ve learned to live with.
And yet, every now and then, God slows us down long enough to ask a better question.
Not, What do you want this year?
But, What are you actually expecting?
Most believers don’t struggle with whether God is able. We’ve seen His faithfulness before. We know the stories. We’ve experienced His help in hard seasons. The issue isn’t belief in God’s power, it’s how much room we leave for it to work.
Paul says “God is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think”. That sounds encouraging until you realize where that power operates. Not around us. Not merely for us. But within us.
Which means the question isn’t whether God can do more. The question is whether we’re open to receiving it.
Life has a way of closing us off. Disappointment teaches caution. Delay teaches restraint. Fatigue teaches survival. And before long, we’re still praying, but with guarded expectations. Still believing, but only for what feels reasonable.
We don’t stop trusting God. We just put a lid on our faith.
God has never had trouble filling empty vessels. Scripture proves that again and again. What limits overflow isn’t emptiness, it’s closure. A heart that has quietly decided how much God will “probably” do.
Sometimes we ask God for more while clinging tightly to control, comfort, and conclusions we’ve already drawn. And God, in His mercy, waits. Not because He is unwilling, but because He will not force abundance into a closed life.
This year might not begin with God adding something new. It may begin with Him removing what has crowded your heart. Old fears. Old assumptions. Old expectations shaped by what didn’t happen before.
Because more doesn’t come from striving harder. It comes from opening wider.
Expecting greater isn’t hype. It’s trust. Believing bigger isn’t denial, it’s alignment. It’s choosing to let God be as big in your future as His Word says He already is.
You don’t need a new plan for this year.
You don’t need to carry pressure into it.
You don’t need to manufacture change.
God has never asked that of you.
He has only asked for room.
So don’t rush this year. Don’t seal it shut with fear or lowered expectations. Stay open. Stay surrendered. Stay available. Let God interrupt your pace and exceed your assumptions.
Because when hearts open, heaven moves.
And more begins the moment we stop closing what God wants to fill.
by Kevin Tillman | Nov 13, 2025 | Bible Study, Blog, Thoughts
If you’re quiet enough, you can almost hear it … a whisper rising from the dusty pages of Ezra.
Not the whisper of a defeated people, but the whisper of a rebuilding God.
A God who steps into ruins and begins again.
Ezra is more than a story about returning home after exile. It is the story of a God who refuses to leave His people in pieces. Stone by stone. Prayer by prayer. Heart by heart. He gathers what’s been scattered
and restores what’s been scarred.
And maybe that’s why this ancient book feels so modern. Because we know something about ruins too, don’t we?
Not the kind shaped like broken walls … the kind shaped like broken hearts.
The relationship that cracked under the weight. The mistake you still replay. The disappointment that sits heavy in the corners of your soul. The spiritual drift you didn’t plan… but somehow lived.
Ezra reminds us:
God does His best work in places that look beyond repair.
When the people returned to Jerusalem, they didn’t arrive to triumph. They arrived to rubble. The temple was more memory than building. The city looked like a warzone. And the people looked like they’d forgotten how to hope.
But God hadn’t forgotten how to rebuild.
He stirred a pagan king to fund the work. He stirred a priest to teach the Word. He stirred a weary people to lift the stones.
And out of all that lifting and learning and leaning on Him, something beautiful began to rise.
Because rebuilding is never just about construction. It is about restoration. It is about a people returning not only to their land but to their Lord.
This is the heartbeat of Ezra:
When God’s hand is on you and God’s Word is in you, God’s work will flow through you.
Not perfectly. Not instantly. But faithfully… in the quiet, consistent, grace-filled ways that only God can orchestrate.
And maybe that’s the part we need today.
Because some of us are trying to rebuild things only God can raise. Some of us are sweeping up pieces when God is calling us to put the broom down and lift our eyes up.
Some of us are standing in front of ruins and forgetting that God specializes in resurrection.
Ezra whispers the truth we forget:
What sin breaks, God restores. What life dismantles, God rebuilds. What seems too far gone, God can redeem.
So if you find yourself standing among the rubble … of choices, of seasons, of circumstances … take heart.
Your Father is a Master Builder. He does not panic at ruins. He does not flinch at fractures. He does not back away from broken things.
He rebuilds them.
And in the story of Ezra … as in the story of your life … grace gets the final word.
by Kevin Tillman | Nov 6, 2025 | Bible Study, Theology, Thoughts
We live in a world that is full of chaos. Noise, distractions and uncertainty are always present. Deep down, however, our hearts are longing for something more. We don’t need more information, we need revelation. This starts with a better understanding of who God is. The more we truly know Him, the more everything else in this world will make sense.
Throughout the Bible, there is a threefold revelation of the. character of God. This revelation reveals His heart, and also His desire to be in relationship with His creation. God wants us to experience His Presence, be transformed by His Purity, and then walk in His Power.
God’s Presence: He is With Us
Psalm 34:18
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
One of the most incredible truths in God’s Word is that He is not far away. From the moment that He walked with Adam in the Garden of Eden to the moment Jesus promised, “I am with you always”, God has revealed His heart. He desires to dwell with His people.
This isn’t just a Sunday morning or Wednesday night experience. It’s a daily awareness of the nearness of God. In the quiet moments and in the middle of the chaos, in the highs and lows, His Presence is constant, and it’s our peace.
I think of a child that’s afraid of the dark. The lights come on, but it’s not the light that alleviates the fear, it’s the presence of the parent that walked in. the presence of someone that love and trust makes all of the difference.
God’s Purity: He is Holy
Isaiah 6:3
“Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD of armies; the whole earth is full of His glory.”
When Isaiah encountered God’s holiness, he wasn’t simply impressed, he was wrecked. God’s purity exposes what is impure in us, not to condemn us, but to cleanse us. Holiness isn’t God’s demand to keep us at a distance. It’s His invitation to draw us closer by being transformed.
God’s purity reminds us that He isn’t just some bigger version of us. No, He is altogether different. He is perfect in every way. He is full of light, and when that light shines into our lives it reveals not only what’s hidden, but also what is broken.
Think about sunlight shining through a window. That beam of light doesn’t create dust, but it definitely exposes it. It shows what is already there. That’s the way that God’s light works in our lives. There is dust in our lives that needs to be cleaned, but we may never even see it without the light shining in.
God’s Power: He is Able
Ephesians 3:20
“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us.”
We often think of God’s power in relationship to the miracles, especially the big ones. The Red Sea parting, the blind seeing, the dead being raised. Obviously these are definitely outpourings of God’s power. But, His power is just as real in the unseen things. Think about the strength to forgive some that’s hurt you. Think about the courage to keep going. Think about the grace to change and grow from the inside out.
This same power that raise Jesus from the grave lives inside of every believer. The power of God isn’t something we have to strive for, it’s SOMEONE we walk with daily.
God’s Presence comforts us. God’s Purity refines us. God’s Power strengthens us. God’s Presence reminds us that we are never alone. God’s Purity reminds us that we’re never beyond redemption. God’s Power reminds us that we are never out of hope’s reach.
The same God that is with you, also works in you, and moves through you.
by Kevin Tillman | May 22, 2025 | Bible Study, Thoughts
“The man with a cross no longer controls his destiny; he lost control when he picked up his cross. That cross immediately became to him an all-absorbing interest, an overwhelming interference. No matter what he may desire to do, there is but one thing he can do; that is, move on toward the place of crucifixion.”
A.W. Tozer
The term “Christian” has lost so much of it’s power over the years. In many ways it has become a mere label for someone that is mildly spiritual and attends a worship service on occasion. But, being a Christian is far more than attendance, and some mental assent to a set of beliefs. It’s far more than doing good deeds and treating people kindly. Sure, those are great things, and we are indeed commanded to do so. But …
Christianity is about surrendering.
“The man with a cross no longer controls his destiny…”
When we follow Jesus we relinquish our rights. We live in a society that promotes self, personal ambition, and control. The message of the gospel stands in stark contrast.
Luke 9:23
Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.
These aren’t easy words. The first readers of Luke’s gospel would have completely understood the cross as being a symbol of death. A death that was public, very painful, and humiliating on top of that. Before Jesus died He had to carry His own cross to Calvary. It was a one way, dead end walk that was guaranteed to end in death. As we “take up our cross and follow Jesus”, we are giving up our rights. We have committed to a death walk. We can’t dictate our path, the cross determines it for us.
Practically for us, this means we don’t ask God to bless our ambitions. Instead we surrender and yield to His plan. We have to give up our false illusions of control. Does this come easy? Absolutely not. Is it a one time surrender? Jesus answers clearly by telling us it is “daily”. Everything in us wants to pursue self. To put it bluntly, we are selfish. That is our nature. But God’s plan is surrender.
“That cross immediately became to him an all-absorbing interest, an overwhelming interference.”
Once we pick up the cross, Tozer is asserting it should become our defining focus. It’s not some side gig or hobby. It’s not just an “add on” to our daily lives. It’s not some occasional religious duty we perform. The cross becomes everything. The cross isn’t just one compartment of our lives. The cross is our place of death. All our movements, all our decisions, all our relationships. All are absorbed by the cross. It is indeed an “interference”. It gets in the way of our choices.
“No matter what he may desire to do, there is but one thing he can do.”
As we continue living in this interference changes start happening. Our desires begin to change. Our decisions begin to change. It’s a holy interference. Denying self and taking up the cross goes against our selfish desires, but in time our entire identity starts changing. Pursuing Him becomes part of what we want to do. The things we once valued highly suddenly don’t seem as important. It’s a process, but it’s worth it.
Christianity isn’t just some set of principles. Jesus wasn’t just some prophet that gave some strong advice for living. We are called to die. This death can be hard and even humiliating. But, there’s life, real life on the other side.
Galatians 2:20
I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
