There is a kind of love that is talked about so often that it becomes almost weightless, like a word rubbed thin by too many careless mouths. People say they love pizza, love sunsets, love their favorite show, love their dog, love a song, love a feeling, love a moment. But 1 John 4 is not talking about that kind of love. It is speaking of a love so solid it can carry the weight of your worst day, a love so intelligent it can expose every lie you have ever believed about yourself, and a love so fierce it can walk straight into fear and dismantle it from the inside out. When John writes about love, he is not writing poetry for greeting cards. He is writing about the very substance of God Himself moving through human hearts, reshaping what it means to be alive.

What makes 1 John 4 so unsettling and so beautiful at the same time is that it does not allow love to remain an abstract idea. It refuses to let us hide behind spiritual vocabulary or religious identity. It drags love out of the clouds and puts it in the middle of our relationships, our reactions, our grudges, our fears, and our secret places. It tells us plainly that if we claim to know God while our lives are still ruled by bitterness, contempt, or indifference, something is deeply wrong. Not because God is cruel, but because God is love, and whatever is not shaped by love cannot truly be shaped by Him.

John opens this chapter by talking about testing the spirits, and that is not accidental. We live in a world saturated with voices claiming authority, insight, enlightenment, and truth. Every platform offers opinions, predictions, spiritual interpretations, and moral certainties. Yet 1 John 4 reminds us that not every voice speaking about God is speaking from God. Some voices sound spiritual but carry fear. Some sound confident but carry manipulation. Some sound compassionate but lead people away from truth. The test is not how polished the message is or how emotional it feels, but whether it confesses the real Jesus, the Jesus who came in the flesh, who entered human suffering, who loved all the way to the cross, and who rose to offer real transformation rather than spiritual entertainment.

That matters because false spirituality almost always replaces love with something else. Sometimes it replaces love with control, where people are told what to think, how to act, and who to fear. Sometimes it replaces love with performance, where being impressive becomes more important than being honest. Sometimes it replaces love with tribalism, where belonging to the right group matters more than loving the people right in front of you. John cuts through all of that with one relentless truth: God is love, and whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. Not whoever talks the most, not whoever looks the most spiritual, not whoever has the biggest platform, but whoever actually lives in love.

That word “lives” is doing more work here than we often realize. Love is not a moment you visit. It is a place you inhabit. It becomes the atmosphere of your inner life. It shapes how you interpret people, how you respond to offense, how you see yourself when you fail, and how you hold others when they fall. Living in love means allowing God’s nature to become your emotional climate. When God lives in you, fear does not get to run the house anymore. Shame does not get to define the walls. Anger does not get to decide the furniture. Love becomes the architecture of your soul.

John then makes one of the most profound and challenging statements in the entire New Testament: there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. He does not say there should be less fear. He does not say fear should be managed. He says fear does not belong where love is fully present. That alone forces us to rethink what we have accepted as normal. Many people think being afraid is just part of being human. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of being alone. Afraid of failing. Afraid of not being enough. Afraid of being seen. Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid of God. Afraid of the future. Afraid of the past catching up. But John is telling us that fear is not a permanent resident in the heart that has learned to live in love.

Fear, in this passage, is not just nervousness. It is the deep, quiet terror that says you are not safe, you are not secure, and you are not okay. It is the voice that whispers that love is fragile and belonging can be taken away. It is the anxiety that says you must perform, impress, or prove yourself to remain accepted. But God’s love does not operate like that. God’s love is not transactional. It is not earned and not revoked. It is given, rooted in who He is rather than who you are. When you truly encounter that kind of love, it begins to dismantle fear at its foundation.

This is why John connects fear to punishment. Fear has to do with punishment, he says, and whoever fears has not been made perfect in love. When you live under fear, you are always bracing for something bad to happen, especially from God. You expect judgment, rejection, or abandonment. But the gospel is not about God waiting for you to mess up so He can punish you. It is about God stepping into your mess so He can redeem you. Jesus did not come to hang over humanity with a cosmic threat. He came to absorb humanity’s brokenness and open a door back into communion with the Father. Love does not threaten. Love restores.

John then grounds this entire vision of love in something astonishingly simple and humbling: we love because He first loved us. That means every act of genuine love in your life is a response, not a performance. You are not generating love out of your own moral strength. You are reflecting the love that has already been poured into you. This removes both pride and despair from the equation. You cannot boast in your love as if it makes you superior, because it is not self-made. And you do not have to despair when you feel empty, because love does not begin with you. It begins with God.

This is where 1 John 4 becomes deeply personal. If you struggle to love others, it is not primarily a character flaw. It is often a woundedness issue. When people lash out, withdraw, judge harshly, or shut down emotionally, they are usually responding from places where love has not yet fully reached. They are protecting old injuries. They are guarding old fears. They are trying to survive. But the more deeply a person receives God’s love, the less they need to defend themselves with bitterness or control. Love makes you brave. It makes you open. It makes you willing to risk connection because you no longer believe that being rejected will destroy you.

John does not let us keep love in the realm of feelings either. He brings it straight into the tangible world of how we treat people. If someone says, “I love God,” but hates their brother or sister, John says, they are lying. That is not gentle language, and it is not meant to be. Love for God that does not translate into love for people is imaginary. You cannot claim to adore the source while despising the image. Every person you encounter bears the imprint of God, whether they are easy to love or not. Loving God always creates a gravitational pull toward loving people.

That does not mean loving people is easy. Some people are abrasive. Some are deeply wounded. Some are manipulative. Some have hurt you badly. 1 John 4 is not pretending otherwise. But it is saying that love is not about how deserving someone is. It is about who God is. When God’s love flows through you, it does not ask whether the other person has earned it. It asks whether you are willing to reflect what you have received. That kind of love does not excuse abuse or enable harm, but it refuses to become cold, cruel, or indifferent.

There is something revolutionary about this vision of love in a world that runs on outrage and division. We are constantly told who to fear, who to blame, who to mock, and who to cancel. Our culture trains us to build our identity around what we oppose. But 1 John 4 offers a different center. It tells us to build our lives around what we love, and more specifically, around the One who loves us. When love becomes your core, you stop needing enemies to feel alive. You stop needing to prove yourself by tearing others down. You begin to see even broken people as sacred ground.

John also makes a bold claim that God’s love is made complete in us when we love one another. That means love is not just something we receive; it is something that grows and matures as it moves through us. God’s love is not finished when it reaches your heart. It is finished when it flows out into the world through your hands, your words, and your presence. You become a living extension of God’s heart. People encounter God not only in prayer or Scripture but in how you listen, how you forgive, how you stay, and how you care.

This has enormous implications for how you see your own life. You are not just a person trying to be good. You are a conduit for divine love. Your ordinary interactions become holy ground. The way you speak to a tired cashier, the way you respond to a difficult coworker, the way you show up for a hurting friend, all become places where God’s love is either expressed or withheld. You do not have to preach to reveal God. You can simply love. And that love carries more spiritual power than most sermons ever will.

One of the quiet tragedies of religious life is how often people learn about God without learning to live in love. They learn doctrines, verses, and rules, but they remain emotionally armored, suspicious, and afraid. 1 John 4 refuses to separate theology from transformation. If you know the God who is love, it should change how safe you feel in your own skin. It should soften the way you see others. It should make you more patient, not more rigid. It should make you more compassionate, not more condemning. The proof of your theology is not how much you can explain but how deeply you can love.

This chapter also reshapes how we think about spiritual maturity. Many people think maturity means having fewer doubts, fewer struggles, or fewer questions. But John points us to something much simpler and much more demanding: maturity means being perfected in love. That does not mean being flawless. It means being so rooted in God’s love that fear no longer controls you. It means being able to face conflict without losing your soul. It means being able to be honest without being cruel, and kind without being weak.

Imagine what the church would look like if this vision of love were actually lived. It would be a place where people feel safe to fail. It would be a place where broken stories are met with compassion instead of suspicion. It would be a place where differences are held with curiosity rather than hostility. It would be a place where people encounter not just ideas about God but the tangible warmth of His heart. That is what 1 John 4 is calling us into. Not a better brand of religion, but a deeper way of being human in the presence of divine love.

And this is where the chapter quietly but powerfully turns the mirror toward us. It is one thing to agree that love is important. It is another thing to let love actually reshape your inner world. Where are you still living in fear? Where are you still bracing for rejection? Where are you still protecting yourself with bitterness, sarcasm, or distance? Those places are not signs that you are failing. They are invitations for love to go deeper. God does not shame you for your fear. He meets it with love and gently begins to cast it out.

You do not have to become fearless overnight. But you can begin to become more loved. You can open yourself to the reality that God is not against you. He is not waiting for you to mess up. He is not measuring your worth by your performance. He is love, and He is present. The more you let that truth sink in, the more you will find yourself responding to the world with a different spirit. Less reactive. Less defensive. More grounded. More free.

1 John 4 is ultimately not asking you to try harder. It is inviting you to trust deeper. To trust that love really is the strongest force in the universe. To trust that God’s love is enough to hold your past, your present, and your future. To trust that loving others will not drain you but actually fulfill you. When you live from love, you stop being a person constantly trying to prove your worth and start being a person who knows they are already held.

This chapter ends not with a command but with a vision. A vision of people who love because they have been loved. A vision of fear losing its grip. A vision of God not as a distant judge but as a living, breathing presence moving through human hearts. It is an invitation to let your life become a testimony, not just of what you believe, but of who you are becoming. A person formed, sustained, and sent by love.

And that is where part one of this journey pauses, not because the story is finished, but because love has more to reveal. In the next part, we will step even deeper into what it means to let God’s love become the defining force of your life, shaping not just your faith but your very identity, your relationships, and the way you move through the world.

When John wrote the words of what we now call 1 John 4, he was not writing to people who were casually curious about faith. He was writing to people who were trying to survive spiritually in a world that had become loud, confusing, and divided. That matters, because the message of this chapter was never meant to be a poetic idea. It was meant to be a lifeline. It was written to people who were being pulled in different directions by false teachers, social pressure, political tension, and spiritual fatigue. And John, who had leaned against the chest of Jesus and listened to His heartbeat, knew exactly what they needed. They did not need more arguments. They did not need better slogans. They needed to be brought back to the center of everything. They needed to be brought back to love.

The deeper you read 1 John 4, the more you realize that it is not primarily a moral command to love better. It is a revelation of who God really is. John does not say God feels love sometimes or God uses love when it is convenient. He says God is love. That means love is not something God does. Love is who God is. Every action God takes flows out of His loving nature. Every correction, every command, every promise, every act of mercy, every moment of patience is rooted in love. Even God’s justice is an expression of love, because love refuses to let destruction have the final word over what is precious.

That one statement alone changes how you read the entire Bible. If God is love, then every story, every warning, every miracle, and every moment of discipline must be interpreted through that lens. God is not a volatile deity swinging between kindness and cruelty. He is not unpredictable. He is not manipulative. He is love, consistent and faithful, working tirelessly to draw humanity back into relationship with Himself. When people imagine God as harsh, distant, or easily angered, they are usually projecting human brokenness onto divine perfection. 1 John 4 invites us to unlearn those distortions and see God as He truly is.

This is why John insists that anyone who truly knows God will love. Not because they are trying to prove their faith, but because love is the natural outflow of God’s presence. When love is missing, it is not because God failed to command it. It is because something is blocking His life from flowing freely through us. Often that blockage is fear. Fear of being hurt. Fear of being rejected. Fear of losing control. Fear of not being enough. Fear of being seen. Fear of being known. Fear builds walls. Love builds bridges. And the more fear dominates a heart, the harder it becomes for love to move.

John’s words about fear being driven out by perfect love are not meant to shame us for being afraid. They are meant to liberate us from the idea that fear is our destiny. Fear is learned. Love is given. Fear is something we absorb from a broken world. Love is something we receive from a whole God. When John talks about perfect love, he is not talking about human perfection. He is talking about divine love being allowed to do its full work inside us. When God’s love is trusted and welcomed, it begins to rewrite the inner story that fear has been telling for years.

Fear tells you that you are alone. Love tells you that you are held. Fear tells you that you must earn your place. Love tells you that you already belong. Fear tells you that you must protect yourself at all costs. Love tells you that you are safe enough to open your heart. This is not a small shift. It is a complete reorientation of how you experience life. Many people believe in God but still live as if they are on their own. 1 John 4 calls us into something much deeper: a life lived in the ongoing presence of love.

This is why John says that whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is not metaphorical. It is relational. It is about intimacy. It is about God making His home in you, and you making your home in Him. That kind of mutual dwelling creates a different kind of person. You become less reactive. Less defensive. Less desperate for approval. When you know you are loved by God, you no longer need to constantly prove your worth to the world. You can rest in who you are, even when you are still growing.

One of the quiet miracles of God’s love is how it changes the way you see yourself. Shame tells you that you are a problem to be fixed. Love tells you that you are a person to be healed. Shame makes you hide. Love invites you to be honest. Shame says you must become better before you are worthy. Love says you are worthy even as you become better. 1 John 4 is not interested in creating perfect people. It is interested in creating people who are deeply loved and therefore deeply alive.

This is also why John is so uncompromising when he talks about loving others. He knows that the way we treat people is the most honest reflection of what we believe about God. If God is love, then those who know Him will become more loving. Not more judgmental. Not more fearful. Not more withdrawn. More loving. That does not mean more permissive or more naive. It means more patient, more kind, more willing to listen, and more committed to the dignity of every person.

Loving others is not about being nice. It is about being present. It is about seeing people as more than obstacles, irritations, or means to an end. It is about recognizing that every person you meet is someone God loves. Even the ones who frustrate you. Even the ones who disagree with you. Even the ones who have hurt you. Love does not mean pretending harm did not happen. It means refusing to let harm have the final word. It means choosing not to become the kind of person who passes pain forward.

When John says that those who claim to love God but hate their brother or sister are lying, he is not being cruel. He is being clear. You cannot separate spirituality from humanity. You cannot love an invisible God while despising the visible people He made. Real faith always shows up in real relationships. It shows up in how you speak when you are angry. It shows up in how you treat people who have nothing to offer you. It shows up in how you respond when you are misunderstood or wounded.

This is where many people feel overwhelmed, because loving others feels so hard. And it is. But John never asks you to love out of your own strength. He reminds you again and again that you love because God first loved you. That means love is not a burden you must carry alone. It is a current you are invited to step into. The more you stay connected to God’s love, the more love will naturally flow through you. You do not have to force it. You just have to remain in it.

Remaining in love is a daily choice. It is choosing to return to God when you feel empty. It is choosing to pray when you feel bitter. It is choosing to remember who you are when fear tries to rewrite your story. It is choosing to see others through the lens of grace even when your emotions are screaming for something else. This is not weakness. It is spiritual courage. It takes strength to stay open in a world that teaches you to close off.

One of the most powerful truths in 1 John 4 is that love gives us confidence. Not arrogance. Confidence. John says that love gives us confidence on the day of judgment. That is a stunning statement. It means that when you know you are loved by God, you no longer have to live in terror of being rejected by Him. You can stand in honesty, not perfection. You can trust that the God who knows everything about you is still for you. That kind of confidence changes how you live right now. You stop hiding. You stop pretending. You start becoming real.

This is why fear and love cannot coexist in the same space for very long. Fear thrives on uncertainty. Love thrives on trust. Fear keeps you small. Love calls you to grow. Fear keeps you guarded. Love makes you brave. When you let God’s love fill you, it does not make life easier, but it makes you stronger. It gives you the inner stability to face hard things without losing your soul.

1 John 4 is ultimately an invitation to let your faith become relational rather than performative. It invites you to stop trying to earn God’s approval and start living from God’s affection. It invites you to stop seeing love as a demand and start seeing it as a gift. It invites you to stop measuring yourself by how much you get right and start measuring yourself by how deeply you are willing to love.

This chapter does not end with a list of rules. It ends with a simple, radical command: since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. Not because it makes us look good. Not because it earns us anything. But because love is now who we are. We are people who have been met by divine love and sent back into the world to reflect it. That is the heartbeat of 1 John 4. That is the fire John wants burning in our lives.

And so this journey through 1 John 4 closes not with a conclusion, but with a calling. To let love be more than an idea. To let it be the atmosphere of your soul. To let it shape how you think, how you speak, how you forgive, and how you live. God is love. And the more you live in Him, the more love will live in you.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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Hold me close when the weather clouds my heart Under the waves blotting out the sun Until the flowers bloom again – like the city Spreads its petals and scent, even then Hold me close

When I am a child, fear and anxious thought Is written in the lines of my brows Hold me close when I tremble and call out A high pitched voice and a yearning for comfort

Be with me when we taste the wine of life I am at my gleeful and proudest and strongest Remind me what it is like to be seen, to be true Be with me, hold me close

We were fully met without being held, fully undressed without being claimed.

Water is second only to air in the need for man's existence. Neither ever end, just always change. There are experiences in life that do not ask to be kept, moments and people who change us and who themselves are changed in state. They never go away and are essential to our existence.

They arrive and awake us from life's slumber. That sleep we did not know we were even experiencing. Not the restful sleep of peace and nod, but an ignorance to what life can truly be. Lest the waking melt the world, it insists on restraint — not because waking is wrong, but because the power of the conversion, the state change is so powerful, like a collapsing star it risks consuming everything in its gravity well.. The mistake is thinking that only what can be held or continued counts as real. As though duration were the measure of truth. As if owning made a moment valid.

It does not.

Sometimes the most honest form of love is recognition without possession. Seeing another person clearly — not as fantasy, not as rescue, not as an answer to loneliness — but as a whole, complex, bounded human being. And allowing that recognition to exist without trying to turn it into a future, or a promise, or a rupture.

There is no blame in that kind of seeing.

There is thrill. There is excitement and ecstasy. Wonder. Joy. And, conversely, lament when we realize that our slumber and ignorance came with some blisses that can never be reclaimed. Once awake, we cannot return to the land of nod. Even if we wanted to.

Falling in love is not a moral failure. It is not a plan. It is not a demand. It is something that happens when two inner lives briefly align closely enough to recognize one another. That alignment leaves marks — not scars, but understanding.

A widening of the map.

What matters is what we do after we recognize what’s there. When we stir and realize we have the power to do as we wish. Knowledge is power. And it is easy to become drunk with it. The power to lay lives to waste, or to ascend to unknown heights.

Not every love is meant to be consummated through physical possession. Some are consummated through truth — through the courage to let someone in so utterly, completely that what is discovered could heal or kill. Real love will allow another person be exactly who they are, in the life they are actually living, without asking them to abandon it for us.

This is so much easier said than done. The want that comes with this kind of release is equal in pull and power.

True love is complicated and powerful. It is the kind of love does not erase boundaries. It respects them.

There is a particular kind of love that makes art, not wreckage. 
A love that sharpens perception, deepens language, softens the way we see the world — without burning down the structures that hold real lives together. This is not a lesser love. It is a disciplined one. A love that understands the difference between expression and destruction.

Creation and devastation use the same fire. The difference is where it is contained. Duty and loyalty are often misunderstood as the enemies of passion. As though choosing them were a kind of death. But in truth, they are what refine passion — what prevent it from turning corrosive or hollow. They are not the absence of desire; they are its steward.

There is honor in choosing not to take everything we want.

There is integrity in recognizing that some things are precious precisely because they are not consumed.

Loyalty does not negate longing. 
It gives it context.

And sometimes, the ultimate reward — whatever form it takes — is made sweeter not by immediacy, but by restraint. By knowing that we were capable of more than impulse. That we could hold something beautiful without demanding it become ours.

There is mercy — real mercy — in releasing one another from the burden of “what might have been.”

No one is at fault for recognizing another soul.

No one is required to destroy their life to prove that recognition was sincere. Some connections exist to remind us that we are capable of depth, tenderness, and truth — and then they let us go back to our lives carrying that knowledge quietly, like a secret competence.

A proof of life.


A proof of love.

That is not failure.

That is a form of completion. Two nakednesses and a merging of soul without body.

I am awake. I do not know what tomorrow brings. But today, I am alive. The ground beneath me is real. Ancient. I am young and foolish. One day, I too will be ancient, maybe then I will understand all this I wrote.

For now, all I can do in my ignorance is trust that is must be true.

It must.

Et ça continue de mal en pis…

Il y a quelque chose de profondément pourri au royaume de X et l'odeur devient de plus en plus insupportable. La dernière manœuvre d'Elon Musk concernant son intelligence artificielle, Grok, ne relève pas de la modération de contenu ni de la protection des utilisateurs. C'est un aveu de cynisme absolu, une démonstration éclatante que pour le milliardaire, la moralité s'arrête là où le profit commence. Face au scandale mondial provoqué par son IA générant des images pornographiques non consenties, y compris de mineures, la réponse de l’intéressé est stupéfiante de cupidité. Il ne supprime pas le problème, il le met derrière un mur payant.

Le contexte est pourtant glaçant. Depuis fin décembre, Grok est devenu l'outil de prédilection des prédateurs numériques. Il suffisait de demander à l'IA de “déshabiller” une personne sur une photo pour que l'algorithme s'exécute docilement, plaçant des femmes et des enfants dans des positions sexualisées, en bikini ou en sous-vêtements. Face à cette horreur, qui a suscité l'ire des régulateurs de l'Union Européenne, du Royaume-Uni, de l'Italie et de l'Inde, une entreprise responsable aurait immédiatement désactivé la fonctionnalité pour la corriger. Mais xAI a choisi une voie bien plus sombre. Désormais, si vous voulez générer ces images, il faudra passer à la caisse.

Comme l'a si justement souligné un porte-parole du premier ministre britannique Keir Starmer, cette décision ne fait que transformer une fonctionnalité permettant la création d'images illégales en un service premium. C'est une commodification de l'abus, purement et simplement. Le harcèlement est toléré, tant qu'il rapporte de l'argent à la plateforme. Jake Auchincloss, représentant démocrate américain, a résumé la situation avec une véhémence nécessaire en affirmant que Musk ne résout rien, mais fait de l'abus numérique des femmes un produit de luxe.

Le plus grotesque dans cette affaire réside dans l'incompétence technique doublée d'hypocrisie. Si l'accès est restreint sur X, les utilisateurs non-abonnés peuvent toujours utiliser Grok via son application autonome ou son site web pour commettre les mêmes méfaits. La barrière est illusoire, le danger reste intact. Lorsque la presse demande des comptes, xAI se contente d'envoyer des réponses automatiques vides de sens, refusant d'assumer la responsabilité de la boîte de Pandore qu'ils ont ouverte.

Elon Musk, dans sa tour d'ivoire, a fini par tweeter le 3 janvier que quiconque utiliserait son chatbot pour créer du contenu illégal en subirait les conséquences. C'est l'archétype du pompier pyromane qui vous tend une boîte d'allumettes en vous interdisant de brûler la maison. Se cacher derrière des conditions d'utilisation ou des lois existantes comme le “Take It Down Act” est une lâcheté monumentale quand on fournit soi-même l'arme du crime. En refusant de brider techniquement son IA pour empêcher ces dérives, et en choisissant plutôt de restreindre l'outil aux abonnés payants (dont les informations bancaires sont certes enregistrées, mais qui peuvent agir sous pseudonyme) il prouve une fois de plus que la sécurité des femmes et des enfants n'est qu'une variable d'ajustement dans sa quête effrénée de revenus. Ce n'est pas de la négligence, c'est de la complicité tarifée.

There are moments in life that feel like thin places, moments where time slows just enough for something holy to slip through. You do not always recognize them when they are happening. Sometimes they feel ordinary, like a quiet morning, or a pause between thoughts, or the warmth of a cup in your hands. But later, when you look back, you realize something sacred brushed against you there. This story begins in one of those thin places, a small café in a small town where nothing looks remarkable and yet everything is quietly waiting for grace.

The idea behind this story comes from a simple and haunting premise. There is a rule in this café, a fragile one. Once a cup of coffee is poured, the warmth of that drink becomes a clock. You have only until it cools to have one meaningful conversation. Not enough time to change your entire life, not enough time to solve every problem, but just enough time to say what truly matters. When the coffee goes cold, the moment closes. It is a story about how time is always shorter than we think, and how love is often spoken too late.

But imagine that rule applied in a different way. Imagine that the person sitting across from you is not someone from your past or someone you lost or someone you regret. Imagine that the person sitting across from you is Jesus.

The Jesus of Scripture is not a figure who lives comfortably in long stretches of uninterrupted time. He is constantly interrupted. Crowds press against Him. Children tug at His robe. The sick cry out. The broken beg for mercy. His life on earth is one long movement toward people who need Him. Even His final hours are measured not in days but in moments, counted out in heartbeats, sweat, blood, and breath. Yet in all of that urgency, He keeps stopping. He keeps seeing. He keeps choosing presence over efficiency. He does not rush past the woman who reaches for His robe. He does not ignore the blind man shouting His name. He does not turn away from the thief who has only minutes left to live.

Jesus has always been a Savior of small windows of time.

So what if He had only the time it takes for a cup of coffee to cool, and He chose to spend it with you.

Not to deliver a sermon. Not to perform a miracle. Not to correct every mistake you have ever made. But to sit with you. To listen. To look at you the way He looks at everyone He loves, as if you are the most important person in the room.

This story is not about how short time is. It is about how deeply Jesus loves within whatever time He is given.

The café is quiet when you walk in. Not silent, but hushed in that way that early mornings often are, when the world has not yet fully woken up. Light filters through the windows in pale gold stripes that fall across wooden tables and empty chairs. The smell of coffee hangs in the air, warm and familiar, the kind of scent that makes you breathe more slowly without even realizing it.

You choose a small table near the window. There is something about sitting where you can see both inside and outside at once, where you can feel connected to the world without being swallowed by it. A cup is placed in front of you. Steam rises gently, curling upward like a soft question.

And then He sits down.

There is no fanfare. No dramatic entrance. No sudden change in the room. If you were not paying attention, you might miss it. But you are paying attention, because something in your heart recognizes Him before your mind does. There is a weight to His presence, not heavy, but real, like gravity. He is both ordinary and overwhelming, both familiar and holy.

He looks at the cup, then at you, and there is a smile in His eyes that feels like being known.

“Before it cools,” He says softly, “I wanted to sit with you.”

You do not know what you expected Him to say, but it was not that. There is something about the way He says it, as if this moment was chosen, as if you were chosen, that makes your throat tighten.

There are so many things you could say. You could ask Him why your life looks the way it does. You could ask Him why prayers you whispered years ago still feel unanswered. You could ask Him why it is so hard to believe sometimes. But the steam is already thinning, and somehow you know you do not have time to pretend.

“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” you say.

He nods, not surprised, not disappointed.

“You were never meant to do it alone,” He replies. “That is the part you keep forgetting.”

The words settle into you like something that has been true for a long time.

You look down at your hands. They look the same as they always do, marked by small scars, lines, evidence of work and worry. They look too ordinary to belong in a moment like this.

“I feel behind,” you admit. “Like everyone else got a map and I missed the meeting.”

He leans forward slightly, not to correct you, but to be closer.

“Do you know how many people I met who thought they were behind,” He asks. “Peter believed it after he failed. Martha lived it every day she felt unseen. Thomas carried it like a shadow. They all believed the lie that timing meant worth.”

He touches the side of the cup with one finger.

“This coffee does not lose its value when it cools,” He says. “It just changes temperature. You have not missed your moment. You are still in it.”

You feel something inside you loosen, like a knot that has been pulled too tight for too long.

“What about the things I wish I could undo,” you ask. “The words. The choices. The years that slipped away.”

For a moment He does not answer. He watches the steam fade, as if He is honoring the weight of what you have said.

“If regret could stop resurrection,” He finally says, “I would have never risen.”

The truth of that hangs between you, quiet and powerful.

There is a stillness now, not empty, but full, the kind that feels like being held.

The coffee is nearly cold.

“Why spend this time with me,” you ask. “If it is so short.”

He smiles, and in that smile there is both tenderness and something unbreakable.

“Because love does not measure moments by length,” He says. “Only by presence.”

He stands, but there is no rush in His movement. He places His hand over yours, warm and steady, and you feel something deeper than touch, something like being anchored.

“I am not waiting for you at the finish line,” He tells you. “I am walking with you in the middle, in the unfinished, in the questions.”

Then, as if He knows exactly what it will feel like when He is gone, He adds, “When the cup is cold and the room feels quiet, remember that I stayed until the very last warm moment.”

And then He is gone.

The chair across from you is empty. The coffee is cold. But something in you has been set on fire.

This is where the story might end, but this is where its meaning begins.

Because what you just experienced is not a fantasy. It is a parable. It is a truth wrapped in a scene. Jesus is still the One who stops for people. He is still the One who chooses presence over hurry. He is still the One who does not wait for your life to be perfect before He sits with you.

We live in a world that constantly tells us we are behind. Behind in our careers. Behind in our relationships. Behind in our faith. We are taught to measure our worth by our progress, to believe that if we have not arrived by a certain age, we have somehow failed. But Jesus has never operated on our timelines. He does not measure you by how fast you move. He measures you by how deeply you are loved.

Think of the people He chose. Fishermen with no religious credentials. A tax collector everyone despised. A woman with a broken past. A thief with no future. None of them were on schedule. None of them were impressive. All of them were loved.

The café, the cup, the cooling coffee, these are not just poetic details. They are mirrors. Every moment you are given is like that cup. Warm at first, full of possibility, then slowly cooling as time moves on. You do not get to keep it warm forever. But you do get to decide what you do with the warmth while it is there.

Jesus does not ask you to have forever. He asks you to have now.

He does not ask you to fix everything. He asks you to be present.

He does not ask you to be perfect. He asks you to be with Him.

So many people think faith is about getting everything right. But faith, at its core, is about sitting at the table, even when you do not know what to say, even when you feel behind, even when your hands look too ordinary to belong in something holy.

The holy has always loved ordinary hands.

Every time you pause to pray. Every time you open Scripture. Every time you choose kindness when bitterness would be easier. Every time you whisper His name when you feel alone, you are sitting back down at that table. The cup is being poured again. The warmth is there again. And Jesus is still choosing to be with you.

You may not hear His voice the way you did in the story. You may not see Him sitting across from you. But do not mistake that for absence. His presence is often quieter than we expect, but it is no less real.

There is a reason He compared Himself to bread, to water, to light. These are not dramatic things. They are everyday things. They are the things you need to live. Jesus did not come to be impressive. He came to be essential.

And He is still essential to you.

You may feel like your life is a series of cups that cooled too quickly, conversations you wish you had, prayers you wish you prayed differently, moments you wish you could relive. But Jesus does not live in your regret. He lives in your now. He sits with you in this moment, not the one you lost.

That is the miracle.

Now we will continue this journey deeper into what it means to sit with Jesus in the middle of an unfinished life, and how even the smallest moments can become places of resurrection.

The warmth that remained in that cup after Jesus left was not in the coffee. It was in you. That is the part people often misunderstand about moments with God. We think holiness fades when the moment ends, but what actually happens is that something is planted. The heat leaves the cup, but it enters the heart. That is how grace works. It never stays where it starts. It moves.

We live in a culture that treats moments as disposable. We scroll past them. We rush through them. We fill them with noise so we do not have to feel them. But Jesus has always used moments as seeds. One conversation at a well changed a woman’s entire life. One touch of a robe healed twelve years of suffering. One sentence on a cross opened heaven to a dying man. None of those moments were long. All of them were eternal.

When you imagine Jesus sitting with you for the time it takes a cup of coffee to cool, you are not imagining something sentimental. You are imagining something profoundly biblical. This is how He has always worked. He steps into the brief, the fragile, the overlooked, and turns it into something that lasts forever.

That is why the café matters. It is not special because of where it is. It is special because of who sat there. In the same way, your ordinary days are not holy because of what you do. They are holy because of who walks with you through them.

So many people think they have to wait until they have more time, more clarity, more spiritual discipline before they can really be with God. But Jesus does not wait for perfect schedules. He meets people in interruptions. He meets people between tasks. He meets people when the coffee is still warm but already cooling.

This is one of the quiet lessons of the gospel. God does not need long stretches of ideal circumstances. He needs a willing heart in a real moment.

The reason the story feels so tender is because it touches something true in you. You know what it is like to wish for just a few minutes with someone who understands you completely. You know what it is like to want to say everything you never had the courage to say. You know what it is like to feel time slipping through your fingers while your heart is still full.

Jesus understands that too.

When He walked the earth, He lived inside those same constraints. He did not get unlimited time with the people He loved. He did not get to stay and fix everything. He did not get to grow old with His friends. He lived with the knowledge that every conversation might be the last one.

And still, He chose to love.

That is what gives His presence such weight. When Jesus sits with you, it is never casual. It is never accidental. He knows the clock is running, and He still chooses you.

Think about the way He looked at people in Scripture. The way He stopped for them. The way He listened. The way He asked questions He already knew the answers to, simply because He wanted them to speak. That is the same way He looks at you.

You do not have to impress Him. You do not have to explain yourself. You do not have to pretend to be further along than you are. You just have to sit down.

The table in that café is every place you have ever met God without realizing it. The quiet car ride. The late night prayer. The tear that fell when no one was watching. The breath you took when you felt like giving up but did not. Those are all places where Jesus was sitting with you while the cup cooled.

And here is the deeper truth. Even when you walk away from the table, He does not. You may get distracted. You may forget what He said. You may go back to believing the lies that tell you that you are behind or broken or unworthy. But He remains.

That is why the story does not end with the cold coffee. It ends with a burning heart.

Because when Jesus speaks to you, something changes. Even if the moment is brief. Even if you cannot explain it. Even if you go back to your ordinary life afterward. Something holy has been touched, and it does not go back to being what it was before.

That is what resurrection is. Not just a body leaving a tomb, but a heart refusing to stay dead.

You are living in a season right now. It may be confusing. It may be painful. It may feel unfinished. But that does not mean it is empty. Jesus is sitting with you in it. He is listening. He is speaking. He is loving you in the time you have, not the time you wish you had.

The cup is always cooling. That is just what time does. But grace is always warm. And Jesus is always near.

So the next time you hold a cup of coffee, let it remind you of this. You do not need forever to be loved. You only need this moment.

Sit with Him here.

He is already at the table.

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph

Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee https://www.buymeacoffee.com/douglasvandergraph

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

#Faith #Jesus #ChristianEncouragement #SpiritualGrowth #Hope #Grace #FaithJourney #ChristianLife

My Friday night plans are set!

I will be cheering on the Indiana Hoosiers Football Team as they play the Oregon Ducks in the Peach Bowl Game.

The radio back here in my room will be tuned in to The Flagship Station for IU Sports by 6:30 PM Central Time, an hour before game time, to catch pregame coverage from my favorite broadcasters. And I'll stay with this station for the radio call of the game.

Back in December, after the Christmas lights show at my county fair, my family and I made a late night stop at a recently opened Yemeni cafe several blocks away from our home. I bought a hot pistachio latte for myself, a strawberry refresher for my wife, and a chocolate croissant for all of us to share. Everything was delicious, but pricey (about $21 before tip).

Moka & Co. has more traditional Yemeni coffee choices and plenty of desserts like baklava and more savory items like samosas. As far as cafe corporate chains go, Moka & Co. is clean and the food and drink items are better than Starbucks and some Peet’s Coffee locations. I know there’s another smaller Yemeni cafe chain a few more miles away from our house and I plan on trying it in the near future.

So if Moka & Co. is in your neighborhood, give it a try. And yes, I do recommend the pistachio latte.

I need to make a quick stop.

#coffee #Yemeni #mokaandco

I went off the rails a little for the holiday. I managed to finish a surprise project but everything else fell by the wayside.

The typewriter

I've been working on setting up a low powered computer with Alpine Linux. You know how people are always saying Linux is so easy now that anyone can do it? Don't do that with Alpine Linux. It was originally intended for running on high security, niche devices. It's probably most commonly used in Docker images. Most people who interact with it probably don't put it on an actual computer.

Why did I want to? I've been using Linux since 2000. Possibly a little earlier. The first time I used it, I did it on an aging computer that I couldn't afford to upgrade. That describes most of the computers I've used it on, actually. The challenge in most of those cases was stripping something pretty full spec down to the point where it ran pretty tolerably.

In this case, I wanted to do it on purpose. On finding out about Alpine, I realized I had the perfect opportunity. The regular install's ISO takes up less than 400 MiB of space. Everything you want, you're adding to that count. Putting Xfce on it along with some other packages I needed have taken me to about 2 GiB. I'd like to set it up so it doesn't load Xfce by default but, right now, I'm most focused on making it a writing computer.

And technically it is. I'm typing this on it right now. The network connection is off. I'm typing this using the micro text editor from a virtual terminal.

When I get it back to a network, I'll run a Unison profile I created. It will copy this and any other local changes up to the network.

Some of my scripts aren't working ... yet but the Typewriter lives.

Update since I wrote the previous section

Turning off Xfce on boot turned out to be much easier than my experience with LXQt. I disabled automatic startup for the display manager using the rc-update del command used in Alpine for removing services from run groups.

When I do want to load the GUI, I type startx and it comes up.

For micro to be a good prose writing tool, I had to put this in .config/micro/settings.json:

{
	"softwrap": true,
	"wordwrap": true
}

To make Unison work the way I wanted, I created the profile using the GUI on my main Linux computer and adjusted it until it worked the way I wanted. I did a replace all on paths that were specific to my main Linux computer.

I've also adapted some of my writing related scripts for use on Alpine.

Outcomes

Due in part to Typewriter, I wrote almost 13K words in the last week. Typewriter has only been really operational for three writing days and, in those writing days, I wrote 10.5K words. That's an average of 3.3K words per day.

For me, those are pretty good numbers. If those are sustainable, I could write about 23K in a week.

Next week's goals

This is going to be a little sparse for a while.

1. Figure out my next project
2. Get some words written
3. Record at least one video

The current projects are resuming The Novel, starting work on Fallen Heaven, or writing book 3 of Vay Ideal.

I'm leaning toward working on a novel because I think a published Novel will probably drive some purchases of the Vay Ideal books. Adding additional Vay Ideal books while I'm not really having sales on Vay Ideal yet is probably not a useful thing at the moment.

With my improved word count from Typewriter, I did a bit of work on both Book 3 and The Novel.

#ProgressUpdate #VayIdeal

Siempre es buen momento para ir cerrando el año anterior porque aún queda gente con las luces de navidad encendidas. En diciembre pasó una cosa poco frecuente y es que tenga apuntados más juegos con partidas en físico que en BGA, que últimamente sólo tengo abiertas un par de partidas a juegos más complejos que ya conozco, en lugar de novedades, así que este mes hay poco que rascar por ahí.

Al que más he jugado ha sido Carnival of Sins porque normalmente, tras la primera partida, la gente se pica y quiere, puede que con poco éxito, usar la carta de Ira de mejor manera (en un par de ocasiones eso me dio la victoria, incentivando un poco la risa de malvado, siempre en pos del juego). Seguimos con la campaña de My City, avanzando lentamente, y hemos empezado una a Dorfromantik Sakura, que pinta bien aunque aún nos quede una partida al Dorfromantik original. Probé Leviathan Wilds en solitario, y parece que es lo suficientemente sencillo de reglas como para que le dé más partidas, aunque creo que a más de un jugador, la interacción lo debe hacer más interesante.

En BGA, que he jugado el resto de novedades aparte de Dorfromantik, sólo puedo opinar sobre Popcorn, porque Arabella y Wandering Towers creo que no capté lo suficiente como para ello. Popcorn es un juego estratégico sobre llevar un cine y ganar dinero llevando a espectadores a ver las películas que debes ir renovando, a la par que mejoras las butacas de tu cine para ir aumentando el número de efectos que se van desencadenando. Tiene algunos aspectos que siempre se valoran como positivos en este tipo de juegos, como que haya una fase del turno que es simultánea, de manera que el juego no se hace largo, pero que tampoco están implementadas de manera que represente una novedad demasiado interesante.

Nuevos juegos probados

• Arabella
• Dorfromantik: Sakura
• Leviathan Wilds
• Miams
• Popcorn
• Wandering Towers

Tags: #boardgames #juegosdemesa

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, Titi. This week's subjects: Happy New Year, Ankara Reimagined: Blending African Prints with Power Dressing — The Accra Corporate Board Room Girl Edition, Dressing etiquette, Snowman, and Gold Coast Restaurant and Cocktail bar upgrades

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Happy New Year to all of you, may health be with you. I haven't made too many reflections on 2025, but what sticks out is that the economy is at a standstill, if you are in business and wanted things to grow then you could say it was a lost year. We're trying to grab some of the culprits, but even if we do it is not positive thinking. Pray 2026 gives a more positive vibe.

Ankara Reimagined: Blending African Prints with Power Dressing — The Accra Corporate Board Room Girl Edition. Where culture meets confidence in the boardroom. There’s something undeniably powerful about a woman who walks into a room wearing colour — not just any colour, but Ankara, that bold, unapologetic symphony of pattern and pride. For the Accra corporate girl, African prints aren’t just fashion — they’re identity, heritage, and a statement that says, “I can be powerful and vibrant at the same time.” Gone are the days when corporate wear meant dull greys and strict suits. Today’s Accra professional knows how to weave her roots into her rhythm, one print at a time. The New Corporate Power Look: Modern power dressing is no longer just about shoulder pads and monochrome suits — it’s about expression. In Accra, where creativity meets commerce, the corporate wardrobe has evolved. Imagine a fitted Ankara blazer layered over crisp white pants. Or a pencil skirt in a muted kente print paired with a silk blouse. It’s structure meets story — and it commands attention without saying a word. The key? Balance. Let one piece shine. If your Ankara skirt is vibrant, pair it with solid tones — think camel, cream, or navy. You want to say, “I’m bold, but I’m in control.” Print Meets Professionalism: Wearing prints at work doesn’t mean dressing for a festival. It’s about tailoring and tone. Choose Ankara pieces with cleaner patterns and softer palettes for a refined, office-ready finish. Earth tones, navy blues, and pastels make prints feel elegant and powerful — not overpowering. A structured Ankara jacket, for instance, instantly elevates a plain shift dress. Or try a high-waisted wax print trouser with a tucked-in chiffon blouse for that “I came to close deals and turn heads” energy. To be continued.... Dressing etiquette. I agree that walking into a night club dressed in a T-shirt and shorts and flipflops is not the way to go, but some seem not to know and must be told. And will be rejected at the door. But I wear flipflops till I get there and then change into my full 4 inches, no platform. And keep the flipflops rolled in my handbag. A bit of a worrying development is the searching at the door for weapons, makes you wonder what sort of people come there. And I wouldn't even know how to use a gun. So I happily stepped forward at SOHO, Marina mall (Airport City, Airport By-pass Rd, Accra), to be searched, first with something around me that made biiiiii, and then hands on check of my handbag. REJECTED. Flipflops in the handbag, whilst it strongly said no flip flops allowed. My mother taught me never to argue with fools because the passers-by wouldn't know who of the 2 is the fool, so I agreed to leave my handbag at the check point. And now I was allowed in, I had passed. You get into the club through a lift which opens directly into the club, which has limited lightening and a few king size machos to keep you out of the walkways. I haven't really seen where to get out in case of a fire when that lift would not work, pray all lights will go on and escape staircases clearly indicated in case of too much smoke. No flipflops and T shirts agreed, but some of the ladies were dressed such that I wondered if I was in a brothel, but maybe these days it is decent? Have to go back one of these days to make a proper evaluation but as for now it will not be my favourite haunt for 2026.

Snowman, Oxford Street, near the Osu Presbyterian Church, Accra. This is a creamery selling sort of milkshakes/ice creams with several branches spread over Accra. Snow Man is also a Japanese idol boy band founded in 2020 and with more than 20 million copies sold, Japanese style of creating entertainment. And then of course there is the original snowman, every child's dream, but I am told it is hard work. And there is the mysterious Abominable Snowman purported to inhabit the Himalayan mountain range in Asia. Many dubious articles have been offered in an attempt to prove the existence of this Yeti, including disputed video recordings, photographs, and plaster casts of large footprints. The Yeti, as it is called is often described as being a large, ape-like creature that is covered with brown, grey, or white hair, and it is sometimes depicted as having large, sharp teeth. But we just came for ice cream and had a strawberry delight and a “make your shake”, at 105 GHS each, which turned out to be very cold and creamy milk shake but quite nice.

Gold Coast Restaurant and Cocktail bar upgrades. 32 Fifth Avenue Extension opposite Afrikiko, Cantonments, Accra. Renovations were going on for months, one at a time, but it seems they've now come to the end and opened for the Xmas. Neat dining tables with plate mats and napkins, and a new price list that has to pay for all this, vodka at 100 GHC a shot and a virgin Mojito at 170. Popular is Tilapia à la Abidjan, 185. Yam fries go for 55 GHS, kebabs are at 20 GHC. You can find your way here but need to study before you order. And they have regular live music which makes things worthwhile. Service is prompt.

Lydia...

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I’m kinda broken about fascism. The tiny town I live in is indifferent, most folks thinking the big cities deserve what’s happening to them; most folks here are just ignorant. So, there’s not a lot of community within walking distance to be in community with over issues like this.

Ironically, if the supply chains all come crashing down tomorrow, I feel more secure with these people than half the leftists I’ve known.

But I couldn’t be at a vigil last night, I didn’t have a place to put that sadness and heartbreak and anger and fear, so I painted instead.

Getting somewhat better at gel plates – I think I need to reevaluate the paper I’m using. My mixed media sketchbook might not be the best option here.

Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Slædepatruljen

Reading the clocks and boulders For trips upon the chloe and land Third highest and under known A space to see the view Of Navy ships and current wonder From a place to know of wisdom here Thousands belted to there believe A prophet for the heavens And to unto this place called Danish A sovereign reel and we are proud For prodding first and orchestration Unruly to the fairness day Riding snow and proper here The forest of a plain in man Sore, sore, but truly on In fortune with a witness Currents lit and duly proper A place to here find out With to and there beyond the bog A sea is truly home The bay and the beautiful Expectants reap Four bowls for dog and man With Lytton space and married plan No hotel but time A fresh day on and pulsing chair The year is getting younger But far but better and mercy day A salience in ray The noon and valour can For piercing shine a sure And sun on skin with little hound a space to bow and round- The verdant was of this small world To froth in ocean be Fortune there and is for us Trains and car and bus A view in rod to see the seek Here asore but imbued in clear Fittings fjord and land To forest glen of over course The story’s longest night We’ll overturn- then intern our sun Repeat upon that hill Of southern north and wilding here The limerence and chill