In Summary: * This morning I put 3 loads of laundry through the little machine, and I'm all set to comfortably make it through the weekend. Next scheduled laundry will be Monday morning when I'll plan on putting 2 or 3 loads through.

Prayers, etc.: * My daily prayers

Health Metrics: * bw= 221.01 lbs. * bp= 142/88 (59)

Exercise: * kegel pelvic floor exercise, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups

Diet: * 06:20 – toast and butter * 07:55 – boiled eggs * 12:00 – home made meat & vegetable soup, fried egg plant & white rice * 15:50 – fried egg plant & white bread

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 05:00 – listen to local news talk radio * 06:00 – bank accounts activity monitored * 06:45 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources * 08:45 – wash 3 small loads of laundry * 12:00 – watch old game shows & eat lunch at home with Sylvia * 15:00 – listening to The Jack Riccardi Show * 17:00 – listening to The Joe Pags Show * 18:00 – listening to the Xavier Sports Network for the radio call of an NCAA men's basketball game, the Missouri St. Bears vs. the Xavier Musketeers * 19:50 – the Xavier Muskies beat the Bears 75 to 57. Time now to switch off the radio, listen to relaxing music, and quietly read my way to an early bedtime.

Chess: * 14:30 – moved in all pending CC games

It started not with lawyers or legislators, but with a simple question: has my work been trained? In late 2022, when artists began discovering their distinctive styles could be replicated with a few text prompts, the realisation hit like a freight train. Years of painstaking craft, condensed into algorithmic shortcuts. Livelihoods threatened by systems trained on their own creative output, without permission, without compensation, without even a courtesy notification.

What followed wasn't resignation. It was mobilisation.

Today, visual artists are mounting one of the most significant challenges to the AI industry's data practices, deploying an arsenal of technical tools, legal strategies, and market mechanisms that are reshaping how we think about creative ownership in the age of generative models. From data poisoning techniques that corrupt training datasets to blockchain provenance registries that track artwork usage, from class-action lawsuits against billion-dollar AI companies to voluntary licensing marketplaces, the fight is being waged on multiple fronts simultaneously.

The stakes couldn't be higher. AI image generators trained on datasets containing billions of scraped images have fundamentally disrupted visual art markets. Systems like Stable Diffusion, Midjourney, and DALL-E can produce convincing artwork in seconds, often explicitly mimicking the styles of living artists. Christie's controversial “Augmented Intelligence” auction in February 2025, the first major AI art sale at a prestigious auction house, drew over 6,500 signatures on a petition demanding its cancellation. Meanwhile, more than 400 Hollywood insiders published an open letter pushing back against Google and OpenAI's recommendations for copyright exceptions that would facilitate AI training on creative works.

At the heart of the conflict lies a simple injustice: AI models are typically trained on vast datasets scraped from the internet, pulling in copyrighted material without the consent of original creators. The LAION-5B dataset, which contains 5.85 billion image-text pairs and served as the foundation for Stable Diffusion, became a flashpoint. Artists discovered their life's work embedded in these training sets, essentially teaching machines to replicate their distinctive styles and compete with them in the marketplace.

But unlike previous technological disruptions, this time artists aren't simply protesting. They're building defences.

The Technical Arsenal

When Ben Zhao, a professor of computer science at the University of Chicago, watched artists struggling against AI companies using their work without permission, he decided to fight fire with fire. His team's response was Glaze, a defensive tool that adds imperceptible perturbations to images, essentially cloaking them from AI training algorithms.

The concept is deceptively simple yet technically sophisticated. Glaze makes subtle pixel-level changes barely noticeable to human eyes but dramatically confuses machine learning models. Where a human viewer sees an artwork essentially unchanged, an AI model might perceive something entirely different. The example Zhao's team uses is striking: whilst human eyes see a shaded image of a cow in a green field largely unchanged, an AI model trained on that image might instead perceive a large leather purse lying in the grass.

Since launching in March 2023, Glaze has been downloaded more than 7.5 million times, according to 2025 reports. The tool earned recognition as a TIME Best Invention of 2023, won the Chicago Innovation Award, and received the 2023 USENIX Internet Defence Prize. For artists, it represented something rare in the AI age: agency.

But Zhao's team didn't stop at defence. They also built Nightshade, an offensive weapon in the data wars. Whilst Glaze protects individual artists from style mimicry, Nightshade allows artists to collectively disrupt models that scrape their work without consent. By adding specially crafted “poisoned” data to training sets, artists can corrupt AI models, causing them to produce incorrect or nonsensical outputs. Since its release, Nightshade has been downloaded more than 1.6 million times. Shawn Shan, a computer science PhD student who worked on both tools, was named MIT Technology Review Innovator of the Year for 2024.

Yet the arms race continues. By 2025, researchers from the University of Texas at San Antonio, University of Cambridge, and Technical University of Darmstadt had developed LightShed, a method capable of bypassing these protections. In experimental evaluations, LightShed detected Nightshade-protected images with 99.98 per cent accuracy and effectively removed the embedded protections.

The developers of Glaze and Nightshade acknowledged this reality from the beginning. As they stated, “it is always possible for techniques we use today to be overcome by a future algorithm, possibly rendering previously protected art vulnerable.” Like any security measure, these tools engage in an ongoing evolutionary battle rather than offering permanent solutions. Still, Glaze 2.1, released in 2025, includes bugfixes and changes to resist newer attacks.

The broader watermarking landscape has similarly exploded with activity. The first Watermarking Workshop at the International Conference on Learning Representations in 2025 received 61 submissions and 51 accepted papers, a dramatic increase from fewer than 10 watermarking papers submitted just two years earlier.

Major technology companies have also entered the fray. Google developed SynthID through DeepMind, embedding watermarks directly during image generation. OpenAI supports the Coalition for Content Provenance and Authenticity standard, better known as C2PA, which proposes adding encrypted metadata to generated images to enable interoperable provenance verification across platforms.

However, watermarking faces significant limitations. Competition results demonstrated that top teams could remove up to 96 per cent of watermarks, highlighting serious vulnerabilities. Moreover, as researchers noted, “watermarking could eventually be used by artists to opt out of having their work train AI models, but the technique is currently limited by the amount of data required to work properly. An individual artist's work generally lacks the necessary number of data points.”

The European Parliament's analysis concluded that “watermarking implemented in isolation will not be sufficient. It will have to be accompanied by other measures, such as mandatory processes of documentation and transparency for foundation models, pre-release testing, third-party auditing, and human rights impact assessments.”

The Legal Battleground

Whilst technologists built digital defences, lawyers prepared for battle. On 12 January 2023, visual artists Sarah Andersen, Kelly McKernan, and Karla Ortiz filed a landmark class-action lawsuit against Stability AI, Midjourney, and DeviantArt in federal court. The plaintiffs alleged that these companies scraped billions of images from the internet, including their copyrighted works, to train AI platforms without permission or compensation.

Additional artists soon joined, including Hawke Southworth, Grzegorz Rutkowski, Gregory Manchess, Gerald Brom, Jingna Zhang, Julia Kaye, and Adam Ellis. The plaintiffs later amended their complaint to add Runway AI as a defendant.

Then came August 2024, and a watershed moment for artist rights.

US District Judge William Orrick of California ruled that the visual artists could pursue claims that the defendants' image generation systems infringed upon their copyrights. Crucially, Judge Orrick denied Stability AI and Midjourney's motions to dismiss, allowing the case to advance towards discovery, where the inner workings of these AI systems would face unprecedented scrutiny.

In his decision, Judge Orrick found both direct and induced copyright infringement claims plausible. The induced infringement claim against Stability AI proved particularly significant. The plaintiffs argued that by distributing their Stable Diffusion model to other AI providers, Stability AI facilitated the copying of copyrighted material. Judge Orrick noted a damning statement by Stability's CEO, who claimed the company had compressed 100,000 gigabytes of images into a two-gigabyte file that could “recreate” any of those images.

The court also allowed a Lanham Act claim for false endorsement against Midjourney to proceed. Plaintiffs alleged that Midjourney had published their names on a list of artists whose styles its AI product could reproduce and included user-created images incorporating plaintiffs' names on Midjourney's showcase site.

By 2024, the proliferation of generative AI models had spawned well over thirty copyright infringement lawsuits by copyright owners against AI developers. In June 2025, Disney and NBCUniversal escalated the legal warfare, filing a copyright infringement lawsuit against Midjourney, alleging the company used trademarked characters including Elsa, Minions, Darth Vader, and Homer Simpson to train its image model. The involvement of such powerful corporate plaintiffs signalled that artist concerns had gained heavyweight institutional allies.

The legal landscape extended beyond courtroom battles. The Generative AI Copyright Disclosure Act of 2024, introduced in the US Congress on 9 April 2024, proposed requiring companies developing generative AI models to disclose the datasets used to train their systems.

Across the Atlantic, the European Union took a different regulatory approach. The AI Act, which entered into force on 1 August 2024, included specific provisions addressing general purpose AI models. These mandated transparency obligations, particularly regarding technical documentation and content used for training, along with policies to respect EU copyright laws.

Under the AI Act, providers of AI models must comply with the European Union's Copyright Directive No. 790/2019. The Act requires AI service providers to publish summaries of material used for model training. Critically, the AI Act's obligation to respect EU copyright law extends to any operator introducing an AI system into the EU, regardless of which jurisdiction the system was trained in.

However, creative industry groups have expressed concerns that the AI Act doesn't go far enough. In August 2025, fifteen cultural organisations wrote to the European Commission stating: “We firmly believe that authors, performers, and creative workers must have the right to decide whether their works can be used by generative AI, and if they consent, they must be fairly remunerated.” European artists launched a campaign called “Stay True To The Act,” calling on the Commission to ensure AI companies are held accountable.

Market Mechanisms

Whilst lawsuits proceeded through courts and protective tools spread through artist communities, a third front opened: the marketplace itself. If AI companies insisted on training models with creative works, perhaps artists could at least be compensated.

The global dataset licensing for AI training market reached USD 2.1 billion in 2024, with a robust compound annual growth rate of 22.4 per cent projected through the forecast period. The AI datasets and licensing for academic research and publishing market specifically was estimated at USD 381.8 million in 2024, projected to reach USD 1.59 billion by 2030, growing at 26.8 per cent annually.

North America leads this market, accounting for approximately USD 900 million in 2024, driven by the region's concentration of leading technology companies. Europe represents the second-largest regional market at USD 650 million in 2024.

New platforms have risen to facilitate these transactions. Companies like Pip Labs and Vermillio founded AI content-licensing marketplaces that enable content creators to monetise their work via paid AI training access. Some major publishers have struck individual deals. HarperCollins forged an agreement with Microsoft to license non-fiction backlist titles for training AI models, offering authors USD 2,500 per book in exchange for a three-year licensing agreement, though many authors criticised the relatively modest compensation.

Perplexity AI's Publishing Programme, launched in July 2024, takes a different approach, offering revenue share based on the number of a publisher's web pages cited in AI-generated responses to user queries.

Yet fundamental questions persist about whether licensing actually serves artists' interests. The power imbalance between individual artists and trillion-dollar technology companies raises doubts about whether genuinely fair negotiations can occur in these marketplaces.

One organisation attempting to shift these dynamics is Fairly Trained, a non-profit that certifies generative AI companies for training data practices that respect creators' rights. Launched on 17 January 2024 by Ed Newton-Rex, a former vice president of audio at Stability AI who resigned over content scraping concerns, Fairly Trained awards its Licensed Model certification to AI operations that have secured licenses for third-party data used to train their models.

The certification is awarded to any generative AI model that doesn't use any copyrighted work without a license. Certification will not be awarded to models that rely on a “fair use” copyright exception, which indicates that rights-holders haven't given consent.

Fairly Trained launched with nine generative AI companies already certified: Beatoven.AI, Boomy, BRIA AI, Endel, LifeScore, Rightsify, Somms.ai, Soundful, and Tuney. By 2025, Fairly Trained had expanded its certification to include large language models and voice AI. Industry support came from the Association of American Publishers, Association of Independent Music Publishers, Concord, Pro Sound Effects, Universal Music Group, and the Authors Guild.

Newton-Rex explained the philosophy: “Fairly Trained AI certification is focused on consent from training data providers because we believe related improvements for rights-holders flow from consent: fair compensation, credit for inclusion in datasets, and more.”

The Artists Rights Society proposed a complementary approach: voluntary collective licensing wherein copyright owners affirmatively consent to the use of their copyrighted work. This model, similar to how performing rights organisations like ASCAP and BMI handle music licensing, could provide a streamlined mechanism for AI companies to obtain necessary permissions whilst ensuring artists receive compensation.

Provenance Registries and Blockchain

Beyond immediate protections and licensing, artists have embraced technologies that establish permanent, verifiable records of ownership and creation history. Blockchain-based provenance registries represent an attempt to create immutable documentation that survives across platforms.

Since the first NFT was minted in 2014, digital artists and collectors have praised blockchain technology for its usefulness in tracking provenance. The blockchain serves as an immutable digital ledger that records transactions without the aid of galleries or other centralised institutions.

“Minting” a piece of digital art on blockchain documents the date an artwork is made, stores on-chain metadata descriptions, and links to the crypto wallets of both artist and buyer, thus tracking sales history across future transactions. Christie's partnered with Artory, a blockchain-powered fine art registry, which managed registration processes for artworks. Platforms like The Fine Art Ledger use blockchain and NFTs to securely store ownership and authenticity records whilst producing digital certificates of authenticity.

For artists concerned about AI training, blockchain registries offer several advantages. First, they establish definitive proof of creation date and original authorship, critical evidence in potential copyright disputes. Second, they create verifiable records of usage permissions. Third, smart contracts can encode automatic royalty payments, ensuring artists receive compensation whenever their work changes hands or is licensed.

Artists can secure a resale right of 10 per cent that will be paid automatically every time the work changes hands, since this rule can be written into the code of the smart contract. This programmable aspect gives artists ongoing economic interests in their work's circulation, a dramatic shift from traditional art markets where artists typically profit only from initial sales.

However, blockchain provenance systems face significant challenges. The ownership of an NFT as defined by the blockchain has no inherent legal meaning and does not necessarily grant copyright, intellectual property rights, or other legal rights over its associated digital file.

Legal frameworks are slowly catching up. The March 2024 joint report by the US Copyright Office and Patent and Trademark Office on NFTs and intellectual property took a comprehensive look at how copyright, trademark, and patent laws intersect with NFTs. The report did not recommend new legislation, finding that existing IP law is generally capable of handling NFT disputes.

Illegal minting has become a major issue, with people tokenising works against their will. The piracy losses in the NFT industry amount to between USD 1 to 2 billion per year. As of 2025, no NFT-specific legislation exists federally in the US, though general laws can be invoked.

Beyond blockchain, more centralised provenance systems have emerged. Adobe's Content Credentials, based on the C2PA standard, provides cryptographically signed metadata that travels with images across platforms. The system allows creators to attach information about authorship, creation tools, editing history, and critically, their preferences regarding AI training.

Adobe Content Authenticity, released as a public beta in Q1 2025, enables creators to include generative AI training and usage preferences in their Content Credentials. This preference lets creators request that supporting generative AI models not train on or use their work. Content Credentials are available in Adobe Photoshop, Lightroom, Stock, and Premiere Pro.

The “Do Not Train” preference is currently supported by Adobe Firefly and Spawning, though whether other developers will respect these credentials remains uncertain. However, the preference setting makes it explicit that the creator did not want their work used to train AI models, information that could prove valuable in future lawsuits or regulatory enforcement actions.

What's Actually Working

With technical tools, legal strategies, licensing marketplaces, and provenance systems all in play, a critical question emerges: what's actually effective?

The answer is frustratingly complex. No single mechanism has proven sufficient, but combinations show promise, and the mere existence of multiple defensive options has shifted AI companies' behaviour.

On the technical front, Glaze and Nightshade have achieved the most widespread adoption among protection tools, with combined downloads exceeding nine million. Whilst researchers demonstrated vulnerabilities, the tools have forced AI companies to acknowledge artist concerns and, in some cases, adjust practices. The computational cost of bypassing these protections at scale creates friction that matters.

Watermarking faces steeper challenges. The ability of adversarial attacks to remove 96 per cent of watermarks in competition settings demonstrates fundamental weaknesses. Industry observers increasingly view watermarking as one component of multi-layered approaches rather than a standalone solution.

Legally, the August 2024 Andersen ruling represents the most significant victory to date. Allowing copyright infringement claims to proceed towards discovery forces AI companies to disclose training practices, creating transparency that didn't previously exist. The involvement of major corporate plaintiffs like Disney and NBCUniversal in subsequent cases amplifies pressure on AI companies.

Regulatory developments, particularly the EU AI Act, create baseline transparency requirements that didn't exist before. The obligation to disclose training data summaries and respect copyright reservations establishes minimum standards, though enforcement mechanisms remain to be tested.

Licensing marketplaces present mixed results. Established publishers have extracted meaningful payments from AI companies, but individual artists often receive modest compensation. The HarperCollins deal's USD 2,500-per-book payment exemplifies this imbalance.

Fairly Trained certification offers a market-based alternative that shows early promise. By creating reputational incentives for ethical data practices, the certification enables consumers and businesses to support AI systems that respect creator rights. The expanding roster of certified companies demonstrates market demand for ethically trained models.

Provenance systems like blockchain registries and Content Credentials establish valuable documentation but depend on voluntary respect by AI developers. Their greatest value may prove evidentiary, providing clear records of ownership and permissions that strengthen legal cases rather than preventing unauthorised use directly.

The most effective approach emerging from early battles combines multiple mechanisms simultaneously: technical protections like Glaze to raise the cost of unauthorised use, legal pressure through class actions to force transparency, market alternatives through licensing platforms to enable consent-based uses, and provenance systems to document ownership and preferences. This defence-in-depth strategy mirrors cybersecurity principles, where layered defences significantly raise attacker costs and reduce success rates.

Why Independent Artists Struggle to Adopt Protections

Despite the availability of protection mechanisms, independent artists face substantial barriers to adoption.

The most obvious barrier is cost. Whilst some tools like Glaze and Nightshade are free, they require significant computational resources to process images. Artists with large portfolios face substantial electricity costs and processing time. More sophisticated protection services, licensing platforms, and legal consultations carry fees that many independent artists cannot afford.

Technical complexity presents another hurdle. Tools like Glaze require some understanding of how machine learning works. Blockchain platforms demand familiarity with cryptocurrency wallets, gas fees, and smart contracts. Content Credentials require knowledge of metadata standards and platform support. Many artists simply want to create and share their work, not become technologists.

Time investment compounds these challenges. An artist with thousands of existing images across multiple platforms faces an overwhelming task to retroactively protect their catalogue. Processing times for tools like Glaze can be substantial, turning protection into a full-time job when applied to extensive portfolios.

Platform fragmentation creates additional friction. An artist might post work to Instagram, DeviantArt, ArtStation, personal websites, and client platforms. Each has different capabilities for preserving protective measures. Metadata might be stripped during upload. Blockchain certificates might not display properly. Technical protections might degrade through platform compression.

The effectiveness uncertainty further dampens adoption. Artists read about researchers bypassing Glaze, competitions removing watermarks, and AI companies scraping despite “Do Not Train” flags. When protections can be circumvented, the effort to apply them seems questionable.

Legal uncertainty compounds technical doubts. Even with protections applied, artists lack clarity about their legal rights. Will courts uphold copyright claims against AI training? Does fair use protect AI companies? These unanswered questions make it difficult to assess whether protective measures truly reduce risk.

The collective action problem presents perhaps the most fundamental barrier. Individual artists protecting their work provides minimal benefit if millions of other works remain available for scraping. Like herd immunity in epidemiology, effective resistance to unauthorised AI training requires widespread adoption. But individual artists lack incentives to be first movers, especially given the costs and uncertainties involved.

Social and economic precarity intensifies these challenges. Many visual artists work in financially unstable conditions, juggling multiple income streams whilst trying to maintain creative practices. Adding complex technological and legal tasks to already overwhelming workloads proves impractical for many. The artists most vulnerable to AI displacement often have the least capacity to deploy sophisticated protections.

Information asymmetry creates an additional obstacle. AI companies possess vast technical expertise, legal teams, and resources to navigate complex technological and regulatory landscapes. Individual artists typically lack this knowledge base, creating substantial disadvantages.

These barriers fundamentally determine which artists can effectively resist unauthorised AI training and which remain vulnerable. The protection mechanisms available today primarily serve artists with sufficient technical knowledge, financial resources, time availability, and social capital to navigate complex systems.

Incentivising Provenance-Aware Practices

If the barriers to adoption are substantial, how might platforms and collectors incentivise provenance-aware practices that benefit artists?

Platforms hold enormous power to shift norms and practices. They could implement default protections, applying tools like Glaze automatically to uploaded artwork unless artists opt out, inverting the current burden. They could preserve metadata and Content Credentials rather than stripping them during upload processing. They could create prominent badging systems that highlight provenance-verified works, giving them greater visibility in recommendation algorithms.

Economic incentives could flow through platform choices. Verified provenance could unlock premium features, higher placement in search results, or access to exclusive opportunities. Platforms could create marketplace advantages for artists who adopt protective measures, making verification economically rational.

Legal commitments by platforms would strengthen protections substantially. Platforms could contractually commit not to license user-uploaded content for AI training without explicit opt-in consent. They could implement robust takedown procedures for AI-generated works that infringe verified provenance records.

Technical infrastructure investments by platforms could dramatically reduce artist burdens. Computing costs for applying protections could be subsidised or absorbed entirely. Bulk processing tools could protect entire portfolios with single clicks. Cross-platform synchronisation could ensure protections apply consistently.

Educational initiatives could address knowledge gaps. Platforms could provide clear, accessible tutorials on using protective tools, understanding legal rights, and navigating licensing options.

Collectors and galleries likewise can incentivise provenance practices. Premium pricing for provenance-verified works signals market value for documented authenticity and ethical practices. Collectors building reputations around ethically sourced collections create demand-side pull for proper documentation. Galleries could require provenance verification as a condition of representation.

Resale royalty enforcement through smart contracts gives artists ongoing economic interests in their work's circulation. Collectors who voluntarily honour these arrangements, even when not legally required, demonstrate commitment to sustainable creative economies.

Provenance-focused exhibitions and collections create cultural cachet around verified works. When major museums and galleries highlight blockchain-verified provenance or Content Credentials in their materials, they signal that professional legitimacy increasingly requires robust documentation.

Philanthropic and institutional support could subsidise protection costs for artists who cannot afford them. Foundations could fund free access to premium protective services. Arts organisations could provide technical assistance. Grant programmes could explicitly reward provenance-aware practices.

Industry standards and collective action amplify individual efforts. Professional associations could establish best practices that members commit to upholding. Cross-platform alliances could create unified approaches to metadata preservation and “Do Not Train” flags, reducing fragmentation. Collective licensing organisations could streamline permissions whilst ensuring compensation.

Government regulation could mandate certain practices. Requirements that platforms preserve metadata and Content Credentials would eliminate current stripping practices. Opt-in requirements for AI training, as emerging in EU regulation, shift default assumptions about consent. Disclosure requirements for training datasets enable artists to discover unauthorised use.

The most promising approaches combine multiple incentive types simultaneously. A platform that implements default protections, preserves metadata, provides economic advantages for verified works, subsidises computational costs, offers accessible education, and commits contractually to respecting artist preferences creates a comprehensively supportive environment.

Similarly, an art market ecosystem where collectors pay premiums for verified provenance, galleries require documentation for representation, museums highlight ethical sourcing, foundations subsidise protection costs, professional associations establish standards, and regulations mandate baseline practices would make provenance-aware approaches the norm rather than the exception.

An Unsettled Future

The battle over AI training on visual art remains fundamentally unresolved. Legal cases continue through courts without final judgments. Technical tools evolve in ongoing arms races with circumvention methods. Regulatory frameworks take shape but face implementation challenges. Market mechanisms develop but struggle with power imbalances.

What has changed is the end of the initial free-for-all period when AI companies could scrape with impunity, face no organised resistance, and operate without transparency requirements. Artists mobilised, built tools, filed lawsuits, demanded regulations, and created alternative economic models. The costs of unauthorised use, both legal and reputational, increased substantially.

The effectiveness of current mechanisms remains limited when deployed individually, but combinations show promise. The mere existence of resistance shifted some AI company behaviour, with certain developers now seeking licenses, supporting provenance standards, or training only on permissioned datasets. Fairly Trained's growing roster demonstrates market demand for ethically sourced AI.

Yet fundamental challenges persist. Power asymmetries between artists and technology companies remain vast. Technical protections face circumvention. Legal frameworks develop slowly whilst technology advances rapidly. Economic models struggle to provide fair compensation at scale. Independent artists face barriers that exclude many from available protections.

The path forward likely involves continued evolution across all fronts. Technical tools will improve whilst facing new attacks. Legal precedents will gradually clarify applicable standards. Regulations will impose transparency and consent requirements. Markets will develop more sophisticated licensing and compensation mechanisms. Provenance systems will become more widely adopted as cultural norms shift.

But none of this is inevitable. It requires sustained pressure from artists, support from platforms and collectors, sympathetic legal interpretations, effective regulation, and continued technical innovation. The mobilisation that began in 2022 must persist and adapt.

What's certain is that visual artists are no longer passive victims of technological change. They're fighting back with ingenuity, determination, and an expanding toolkit. Whether that proves sufficient to protect creative livelihoods and ensure fair compensation remains to be seen. But the battle lines are drawn, the mechanisms are deployed, and the outcome will shape not just visual art, but how we conceive of creative ownership in the algorithmic age.

The question posed at the beginning was simple: has my work been trained? The response from artists is now equally clear: not without a fight.

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Adobe. (2024). Media Alert: Adobe Introduces Adobe Content Authenticity Web App to Champion Creator Protection and Attribution. https://news.adobe.com/news/2024/10/aca-announcement

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Tim Green UK-based Systems Theorist & Independent Technology Writer

Tim explores the intersections of artificial intelligence, decentralised cognition, and posthuman ethics. His work, published at smarterarticles.co.uk, challenges dominant narratives of technological progress while proposing interdisciplinary frameworks for collective intelligence and digital stewardship.

His writing has been featured on Ground News and shared by independent researchers across both academic and technological communities.

ORCID: 0009-0002-0156-9795 Email: tim@smarterarticles.co.uk

There are moments in Scripture when Paul stops sounding like a teacher or even a theologian and begins sounding like a father whose heart is tired, bruised, and still burning with love for his children. First Corinthians 4 is one of those moments. You can feel the ache in his voice, the tug in his spirit, the exhaustion of someone who has poured out everything he has, only to watch the people he loves drift toward pride, comparison, division, and spiritual arrogance. It is the chapter where Paul steps out from behind the structure of doctrine and speaks plainly, honestly, and vulnerably about what it means to follow Jesus when the world misunderstands you, when people misjudge you, and when credibility is questioned by those who weren’t there to see the cost of your obedience.

This chapter meets every believer in the secret place where motives are tested, where obedience is weighed, where humility is either chosen or rejected, and where the applause of heaven must drown out the noise of earth. It is a chapter that confronts the deepest parts of our identity—our need to be seen, our yearning to be respected, our craving for approval, and our tendency to inflate ourselves when we fear we are being diminished. Paul steps into all of that and strips it down to one timeless truth: a servant of Christ cannot live for appearances. A steward of the mysteries of God cannot live for validation. A follower of Jesus must be prepared to look foolish to the world if it means being faithful to the One who called them.

Paul opens the chapter by defining the identity of every believer who chooses to serve Christ with sincerity: a servant and a steward. And not a steward of earthly possessions or accomplishments but of mysteries. That means your life is not meant to impress people; it is meant to reveal something of God that the world cannot grasp on its own. Being a steward of divine mysteries means living in ways that don’t always make sense to people who measure value by success, status, and visibility. It means your obedience sometimes looks like sacrifice that no one applauds. It means your service sometimes looks like insignificance to those who measure greatness by worldly metrics. It means your faithfulness sometimes looks like failure to people who do not understand that heaven operates on a different scoreboard.

Paul says that what is required of a steward is simply that they be found faithful. Not brilliant. Not popular. Not admired. Faithful. One of the hardest spiritual lessons is accepting that faithfulness rarely feels glamorous. It rarely feels rewarded in real time. It rarely looks impressive. Faithfulness is often lonely, quiet, misunderstood, and carried out in spaces where no one is clapping. Faithfulness is the work you do when nobody notices. Faithfulness is the obedience you give when nobody affirms it. Faithfulness is the decision to honor God even when it costs you comfort, reputation, or opportunities you really wanted.

And then Paul says something that cuts through the human obsession with perception: “I care very little if I am judged by you or any human court.” Not because he is arrogant, but because he knows that no human being—no matter how close, no matter how spiritual, no matter how well-intentioned—can truly see into the depths of another person’s motives. He says he cannot even fully judge himself because only God sees with perfect clarity. God alone knows the intent, the motive, the truth behind the action. And this becomes a liberating truth once you embrace it. You stop trying to correct every misunderstanding. You stop trying to perform for people who will never fully understand your heart. You stop trying to win approval from people who aren’t even qualified to evaluate your calling.

Paul is inviting the believer to step out of the exhausting cycle of proving themselves. He is showing us that spiritual freedom does not come when others applaud you but when their applause no longer determines your direction. It comes when your soul rests in the reality that God sees, God knows, God measures, and God rewards in ways people never could. It comes when you let go of the pressure to justify yourself, defend yourself, or explain yourself to those who do not carry your assignment.

But then Paul shifts the conversation. He begins confronting the Corinthians for acting like they’ve already arrived spiritually, as if they were already kings, already exalted, already living in a finished glory that belongs only to the future kingdom. He points out the painful contrast: “We are fools for Christ, but you are so wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are honored, but we are dishonored.” These are not compliments; they are confrontations. Paul is exposing the dangerous illusion that spiritual pride creates—the illusion that you are further along than you truly are, that you have matured beyond the need for correction, that you have reached a level of spirituality where you no longer need humility.

When you believe you are spiritually superior, you stop learning. When you believe you have outgrown accountability, you stop being teachable. When you believe you are further along than everyone else, you stop hearing the voice of God clearly. Pride is more deadly than ignorance because ignorance can be corrected, but pride refuses correction. Pride builds walls around the mind, making the heart unreachable. Pride convinces a person that they are spiritually advanced while slowly disconnecting them from the very source of spiritual life.

Paul answers their pride not by attacking them but by offering the raw truth of what the apostles were actually enduring. He draws a picture that is so vivid, so uncomfortable, you can almost feel the weight of it. He says the apostles have been made a spectacle to the world—like prisoners of war paraded before crowds. He describes hunger, thirst, poor clothing, homelessness, exhaustion, persecution, and opposition. He paints the image of faithful servants being treated like the world’s garbage, the residue scraped off the bottom of society’s shoe. And yet—this is the miracle—they respond not with bitterness, not with retaliation, not with cynicism, but with blessing, endurance, and gentleness.

This is not weakness. This is spiritual strength at its highest form. Anyone can retaliate. Anyone can fight back. Anyone can respond to insult with insult. But it takes Holy Spirit–empowered strength to bless those who curse, endure when mistreated, and respond with kindness when slandered. The strongest believers are not the ones who win arguments; they are the ones who refuse to let mistreatment corrupt their spirit. The strongest believers are not the ones who appear unshaken; they are the ones who choose humility instead of pride, patience instead of anger, and obedience instead of self-protection.

Paul is showing the Corinthians—and us—that following Christ looks less like sitting on a throne and more like carrying a towel. It looks less like being admired and more like serving when no one is watching. It looks less like being honored by people and more like being faithful to God when people misunderstand your devotion.

Then Paul takes a deeply personal turn. He tells them he is not writing all of this to shame them but to admonish them as his beloved children. This is not the voice of a frustrated teacher. This is the voice of a spiritual father who loves his people too much to let them drift into spiritual self-deception. He reminds them that they may have countless instructors but not many fathers—and there is a difference. Instructors can give information, but fathers give themselves. Instructors can teach principles, but fathers produce identity. Instructors can fill minds with knowledge, but fathers help shape character, humility, and direction.

Paul is pointing them back to the truth that Christian maturity is not measured by enthusiasm, gifting, or knowledge but by imitation—“imitate me,” he says—not because he considers himself perfect, but because he knows he is following Christ with sincerity, humility, and sacrifice. He knows the path he is walking is the path they must learn to walk. And this becomes the unspoken heartbeat of this chapter: spiritual growth does not happen by learning everything at once but by imitating the posture of someone who is already surrendered to Christ.

He sends Timothy as a living example because he knows the Corinthians need more than information; they need a model. They need someone whose life demonstrates humility, endurance, and faithfulness. They need someone who lives out the gospel in the quiet spaces where character is formed. Timothy becomes a mirror—not for them to admire themselves, but for them to see the difference between worldly applause and godly obedience.

And then Paul closes with a sobering truth: the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. Anyone can talk spiritually, and anyone can sound impressive when speaking with confidence. But the kingdom is revealed not by how much someone says but by the spiritual power that flows through a surrendered life—power to love, power to endure, power to forgive, power to remain humble, power to stay faithful in obscurity, power to resist pride, power to walk with the heart of Christ no matter how the world responds.

Paul is asking them, and asking every one of us: Are you living in talk, or are you living in power? Are you leaning into appearance, or are you leaning into surrender? Are you building your identity on how spiritual you look, or on how quietly faithful you are when nobody is looking? Are you pursuing the applause of people, or the approval of God? Are you living as one who believes they have already arrived, or as one who knows that humility is the gateway to greatness in God’s kingdom?

The danger Paul confronts in this chapter is not rebellion. It is not unbelief. It is not immorality. It is something far more subtle, far more common, and far more deadly to a believer’s spiritual trajectory: the illusion that you are already everything God wants you to be. The illusion that spiritual growth is behind you. The illusion that your spiritual depth is self-evident. The illusion that maturity can be measured by how gifted, emotional, or confident you appear. Paul strips away that illusion and shows that true maturity is never loud, never proud, never self-promoting, and never defensive. True maturity lets God judge motives. True maturity refuses to boast about what it does not yet understand. True maturity embraces the hiddenness that comes with obedience and the humility that comes with being taught.

This chapter becomes a mirror for every servant who is tired of being misunderstood, tired of being overlooked, tired of being underestimated, or tired of being criticized for motives only God can see. Paul’s words remind us that God never wastes the seasons where people don’t get us. God never wastes the seasons where no one understands what we’re building. God never wastes the seasons where our work seems invisible, insignificant, or unimpressive. Those seasons do not diminish you—they forge you. They reveal what kind of steward you truly are. They test whether your obedience is grounded in love for God or in the desire for approval.

Paul’s own life becomes the embodiment of this truth. He had every earthly credential. He had the intellect, the training, the pedigree, the reputation, the heritage, and the authority. But after meeting Christ, none of those things became the measure of his identity. Instead, his life became a canvas of suffering, endurance, humility, and obedience. He counted himself a fool in the eyes of the world so that he could be faithful in the eyes of God. He embraced weakness knowing that God’s power shines brightest through surrendered lives. He accepted dishonor because he understood that God’s favor outweighs human recognition. He endured hardship knowing it was shaping something eternal inside him.

When he says “we have become the scum of the earth,” he is not complaining. He is revealing the cost of true apostleship. He is showing that greatness in the kingdom does not travel the road of applause; it travels the road of sacrifice. If the path you are walking feels heavy, if your obedience feels costly, if your service feels unnoticed, you are not failing—you are following the same road the apostles walked. You are being shaped by the same God who shaped their character. You are being trained in the same humility that trained them for eternal impact.

And if you feel unseen, misunderstood, or unappreciated, understand this: it is entirely possible that God is protecting you from being elevated too soon. Human recognition can destroy what humility protects. Applause can corrupt what obedience purifies. Early praise can uproot what steady faithfulness is trying to grow. God often hides the ones He is preparing. He often conceals the ones He is strengthening. He often allows seasons where you seem pushed aside so that arrogance never takes root in the soil of your calling.

Paul is calling the Corinthians back to humility not because they are insignificant but because God has plans for them, and pride would sabotage those plans. God cannot build on a foundation of self-exaltation. He cannot entrust spiritual depth to a heart that demands honor. He cannot release power through someone who insists on being seen. He cannot grow a believer who refuses correction. Humility is not just a virtue—it is the very environment where transformation becomes possible.

When Paul tells them “imitate me,” he is not pointing to achievements. He is pointing to posture. He is pointing to a life that has surrendered every claim to glory. He is pointing to the way he responds to hardship, to misunderstanding, to criticism, to persecution, and to mistreatment. He is pointing to the way he refuses to let bitterness corrupt his spirit. He is pointing to the way he chooses gentleness over retaliation. He is pointing to the way he allows God—not people—to define his worth.

He is ultimately pointing to Christ, because the humility Paul models is the humility he learned from Jesus. Christ—who had every right to be honored—chose to be a servant. Christ—who could have demanded loyalty—chose to wash feet. Christ—who could have silenced His critics—chose to remain obedient. Christ—who could have summoned angels—chose a cross. Christ—who deserved glory—embraced humiliation so that humanity could be redeemed. Paul is not asking anyone to imitate him for the sake of imitation; he is asking believers to learn the posture of Christ through the life of someone who is already walking that road.

This is why his warning at the end of the chapter is so powerful. He says there are many who are arrogant, many who talk confidently, many who sound spiritual—but the kingdom of God is not talk. Talk is cheap. Talk is easy. Talk impresses crowds but does not transform souls. Talk convinces listeners but does not change hearts. Talk can imitate the sound of spirituality but cannot imitate the substance of it. Paul is saying the kingdom is recognized by power—not the power to dominate, not the power to intimidate, not the power to persuade, but the power to endure, the power to forgive, the power to remain faithful, the power to love, the power to remain humble, the power to suffer without becoming bitter, the power to remain gentle in the face of hostility, the power to continue serving even when no one notices.

This is the power you carry when you surrender your life to Christ. This is the power that grows in hidden places. This is the power that emerges in seasons where it feels like God is silent. This is the power that is shaped through trials, rejection, and misunderstanding. This is the power that allows you to remain steady when others fall away. This is the power that helps you forgive people who will never understand what their words cost you. This is the power that teaches you to keep walking when your heart feels broken. This is the power that keeps your spirit alive when your circumstances feel impossible.

Paul’s message is timeless: if you want to carry spiritual power, you must embrace spiritual humility. If you want to be entrusted with influence, you must be willing to be misunderstood. If you want God to exalt you, you must be willing to walk through seasons where you are overlooked. If you want depth, you must be willing to let God strip away the pride that keeps you shallow. If you want maturity, you must be willing to be corrected. If you want the kingdom, you must want God more than you want applause.

And in this way, 1 Corinthians 4 is not merely a rebuke—it is an invitation. An invitation to free yourself from the pressure to perform. An invitation to stop defending yourself against the opinions of people who cannot see your motives. An invitation to stop pretending you have spiritually arrived. An invitation to return to the humility that first softened your heart when Christ found you. An invitation to accept the quiet work God is doing even when no one else recognizes it. An invitation to discover the strength that only humility can produce.

You do not need to be validated to be valuable. You do not need to be visible to be effective. You do not need to be applauded to be anointed. You do not need to be honored to be used by God. Heaven sees what the world overlooks. Heaven values what the world ignores. Heaven celebrates what the world misunderstands. Heaven rewards what the world cannot measure.

This chapter is God’s gentle reminder that your worth is not determined by how you appear to people but by how you are seen by Him. Your calling cannot be evaluated by those who did not assign it. Your obedience cannot be judged by those who did not witness it. Your faithfulness cannot be diminished by those who do not understand it. You are not defined by public perception. You are defined by the God who knows the secrets of your heart and the intentions behind every step you take.

And when you embrace that truth, everything changes. The pressure lifts. The striving stops. The insecurity fades. The comparisons lose their grip. The criticism loses its sting. The pride loses its power. You begin to breathe again. You begin to rest again. You begin to serve again with joy instead of exhaustion. You begin to walk again without needing the approval of anyone but God.

This is the beauty of the gospel revealed through Paul’s words: you are free. Free from judgment. Free from comparison. Free from the need to impress. Free from the burden of pretending. Free from the weight of expectations that were never yours to carry. Free from the illusion that you must be seen to matter.

If you walk away from this chapter with only one truth, let it be this: humility is not a sign of weakness—it is the soil where spiritual greatness grows. And God is not looking for the ones who appear mighty. He is looking for the ones who remain surrendered. He is not seeking the ones who seem impressive. He is seeking the ones who remain faithful when no one is watching. He is not drawn to those who promote themselves. He is drawn to those who quietly trust Him when everything around them feels uncertain.

Let your heart return to humility. Let your soul find rest in the God who sees you. Let your spirit be strengthened by the truth that obedience is never wasted. And let your life become the living evidence of what Paul wrote so long ago: that the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.

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It’s a feast for the eyes. More photos here.

Merry Christmas, Ted Cooper Hallmark, 2025 (4 out of 5 Hot Chocolates)

Read more #100HotChocolates reviews

The season’s first banger. Atypical male lead, fresh story beats, and riffing on zany Anchorman-style comedies. The romance is a Christmas Ale buzz. You root for leads Ted and Hope.

Supporting cast matters in holiday movies. From Ted’s high-strung sibling to the Sole Sisters, an a-hole newsman nemesis, and Hope’s straight-talkin' coworker, this movie has a fruitcake of an ensemble.

The plot had a third-act problem with an asinine Three’s Company miscommunication “conflict.” Hope is unnecessarily mean, as she delivers a brutal, undeserved Ted takedown. Justice for Ted! But the hot, handsy, elongated on-camera make-out scene saved Christmas. Watch it.

#movies #ChristmasMovies #HallmarkMovies #RomCom #HolidayMovies #100HotChocolates #ChristmasReview #100WordReview #Larrys100 #100DaysToOffload

There are chapters in Scripture that read like gentle reminders, and then there are chapters that feel like God walks straight into the room, sits down across from you, looks directly into your soul, and says, “Let’s talk about who you’re becoming.” That is exactly what 1 Corinthians 3 has always been for me. It’s not a chapter that whispers. It’s a chapter that confronts. It exposes. It clarifies. And ultimately—it heals. Because you cannot become who God called you to be until you are willing to face what is actually shaping you on the inside.

When Paul speaks to the Corinthian church in this chapter, he is speaking to believers who loved Jesus but were still tangled in old mindsets. They were saved, but not mature. Gifted, but divided. Called, but distracted. They had the Spirit of God inside them, but they were still living like people who hadn’t learned how to let that Spirit lead them. In that sense, the Corinthian church looks a lot like the modern church. It looks a lot like us. We love God, yet we wrestle with ego. We follow Christ, yet we often cling to our own preferences. We hear truth, yet we still react from insecurity, old wounds, or the desire to prove ourselves. Paul calls this being “infants in Christ”—not as an insult, but as a diagnosis. Because you cannot grow until you know where growth is needed.

What makes this chapter so powerful is that Paul doesn’t simply reprimand the Corinthians for their immaturity. He points them toward the deeper reality they’ve forgotten: everything they do, everything they build, everything they say, and everything they fight about is shaping the kind of person they are becoming in eternity. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is unnoticed. And nothing is insignificant. That’s why the imagery he uses is so vivid milk versus solid food, God’s field, God’s building, the wise master builder, the foundation of Christ, the fire that tests each person’s work, the temple of the Holy Spirit. These are not soft metaphors. These are kingdom-level reminders that your life isn’t random. You are constructing something with every choice, every motive, every thought, every conversation, and every moment of obedience.

The reason this chapter hits so deeply is because Paul doesn’t allow us to hide behind performance or titles or talent. He brings the conversation straight down to the heart level. Are you building with materials that last? Are you building from a heart anchored in Christ? Are you building for His glory or your own? Are you building unity or division? Are you building something eternal or something that will collapse under the weight of God’s refining fire? These are not questions you answer casually. These are questions that make you slow down, breathe deep, and listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit, because the answers shape the kind of legacy you will leave behind.

When I read 1 Corinthians 3, I don’t hear Paul scolding a church. I hear a spiritual father doing what loving fathers do—calling his children higher. He is reminding them that spiritual growth isn’t optional. It’s the difference between a life that shines and a life that smolders. It’s the difference between building something that survives the fire and something that disappears in the flames. And most of all, it’s the difference between living for yourself and living for the One who laid the true foundation of your life.

I want to walk slowly through the themes of this chapter because there is a depth here that has the power to reshape the way we see our work, our calling, our relationships, our motives, and our faith. And if there is anything the world needs right now, it is believers who are spiritually mature—people who don’t crumble under pressure, who don’t compare or compete, who don’t tear down others to feel secure, who don’t get consumed by ego or division, and who understand that everything they do is part of a larger mission: building the kingdom of God in their generation.

Paul begins by telling the Corinthian believers something that must have stung when they first heard it: “I could not address you as spiritual, but as people still influenced by your old nature.” That’s a hard thing to admit—that sometimes our reactions, our frustrations, our insecurities, and our arguments are not spiritual at all. They’re flesh. They’re fear. They’re self-protection. They’re pride dressed up as passion. And instead of judging the Corinthians for this, Paul diagnoses the root of the problem: they hadn’t grown beyond spiritual infancy.

We often think spiritual immaturity means a lack of knowledge. But Paul shows it’s deeper than that. Immaturity isn’t about what you know—it’s about what you choose. It’s about whether your decisions reflect the character of Christ or the impulses of your old life. You can memorize Scripture and still be spiritually immature if your heart hasn’t surrendered to what that Scripture is calling you to become. You can lead, preach, build, and serve, yet still respond like an infant when circumstances touch your ego.

Paul’s words expose how easy it is to confuse spiritual activity with spiritual maturity. The Corinthian believers were active. They were gifted. They were passionate. But they weren’t rooted. Their lives were still shaped by comparison and division. Some were aligning themselves with Paul, others with Apollos, and others with Peter—not because they loved these leaders, but because they wanted a sense of superiority. They wanted identity through association instead of identity through Christ. They wanted status, not surrender.

That’s why Paul confronts their mindset so boldly. He refuses to let them turn the kingdom of God into a popularity contest. He refuses to let them build their worth on anything less than Christ Himself. And he refuses to let them believe the lie that division is normal or acceptable for believers. When you are spiritually immature, you think you need to win. When you are spiritually mature, you understand that unity is the win.

Paul then dismantles the mindset of comparison by reminding the Corinthians of something deeply liberating: “What, after all, is Paul? What is Apollos? Only servants.” This is so important. When you drop your need to be impressive, God becomes free to build something extraordinary through you. When you stop trying to be the hero, you discover the peace of simply being faithful. When you release your need for recognition, heaven begins to recognize you in ways the world never could.

Paul tells the Corinthians—and us—that each person has a role. One plants. One waters. But only God makes things grow. In other words: you don’t have to do everything. You don’t have to be everything. You don’t have to carry the pressure of outcomes. Your job is obedience. God’s job is increase. Spiritual immaturity believes the outcome is proof of your value. Spiritual maturity understands the outcome is the work of God.

Then Paul shifts the imagery, moving from fields to architecture. Suddenly, we are not agricultural workers—we are builders. And Paul, as a wise master builder, laid a foundation that no one else could: Jesus Christ. Everything in your life rests on that foundation. Your calling, your relationships, your decisions, your purpose, your identity—if these things are not built on Christ, then no amount of talent or effort will make them stable. You can build beautifully on a bad foundation, but the collapse will always come.

This is where Paul introduces one of the most sobering truths in the entire New Testament: every person’s work will pass through fire. The fire doesn’t test your salvation—that’s secure in Christ. It tests the quality of what you built. It tests the motives. It tests the sacrifice. It tests whether you were building for eternity or for applause. It tests whether your work was rooted in love or in ego. Wood, hay, and straw burn. Gold, silver, and precious stones remain.

This means something profound: God is not looking at how much you produce. He is looking at what you produce from. Your heart is the material. Your motives are the material. Your obedience is the material. The fire doesn’t reward quantity—it reveals authenticity. It reveals whether your faith shaped your life or whether your life simply wore the appearance of faith.

And then Paul says something that should stop every believer in their tracks: “You are God’s temple.” This isn’t a metaphor. It’s a reality. The Spirit of the living God has chosen to dwell in you. That means spiritual immaturity isn’t just unwise—it’s dangerous. It means division isn’t just unhealthy—it’s destructive. It means comparison isn’t just petty—it’s incompatible with the presence of God inside you. It means treating others harshly isn’t just a flaw—it’s vandalizing the very temple God is building.

This is why Paul ends the chapter by destroying the illusion of human superiority. “Let no one boast in men.” When you belong to Christ, you inherit everything that is His. You don’t need to cling to human leaders for identity. You don’t need to compete for attention. You don’t need to fight for validation. You don’t need to compare your calling to someone else’s. Everything is already yours because you belong to Jesus—and Jesus belongs to God.

Before we move into the second half of this article, I want you to pause and consider something: What are you building with your life right now? Not publicly. Internally. Quietly. In the places no one sees. Are you building with wood and hay—things that impress people but don’t survive pressure? Or are you building with materials that only God sees but that He treasures—humility, integrity, faithfulness, repentance, unity, love, perseverance, surrender?

Because the fire is not the enemy. The fire is the truth-revealer. It is the purifier. It is the great clarifier. And in the next half of this article, we’re going deeper into what it means to build a life that survives the flames.

As we continue deeper into the message of 1 Corinthians 3, something remarkable begins to happen. Paul is no longer simply teaching doctrine—he is shaping identity. He is speaking to believers who have forgotten who they truly are, and he is reminding them that spiritual maturity isn’t measured by talent, charisma, or outward success. It is measured by the quiet transformation of the heart. It is measured by the unseen choices that no one claps for. It is measured by the ability to let Christ—not ego—set the rhythm of your life.

When Paul challenges the Corinthians for their divisions—“I follow Paul,” “I follow Apollos”—he isn’t just addressing a petty argument. He’s addressing a spiritual fracture that weakens everything God is trying to build in them. Division is always the symptom. Immaturity is the cause. The moment believers begin elevating personalities above purpose, opinions above unity, preferences above mission, and pride above humility, the foundation begins to crack. And when the foundation cracks, nothing built on it can stand.

Paul refuses to let them live on cracked foundations. Instead, he pulls them back to the one truth they must never forget: “No one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.” That single sentence could heal most of the divisions, comparisons, and insecurities in the modern church. We divide because we forget the foundation. We compete because we forget the foundation. We get threatened by others because we forget the foundation. We drift spiritually because we forget the foundation.

Everything that lasts in your life will be built on Christ. Everything that collapses will be built on something else.

This chapter forces us to evaluate the real foundation beneath our choices. Are we building on Christ or on convenience? On Christ or on pressure? On Christ or on people-pleasing? On Christ or on achievement? On Christ or on personal preference? The foundation doesn’t lie. It reveals what truly governs the direction of your life. And Paul wants the Corinthians—and us—to refuse to settle for anything less than the foundation God Himself established.

Paul then turns our attention to the materials we build with. This is where the imagery of the fire becomes uncomfortably personal. Because fire doesn’t care about surface appearance. Fire doesn’t care how impressive something looks to the public. Fire exposes what cannot last. Fire reveals motives. Fire separates the eternal from the temporary, the sacrificial from the convenient, the humble from the performative, the surrendered from the self-promoting.

Gold represents purity. Silver represents redemption. Precious stones represent the beauty God shapes through pressure. These are the internal materials of a life built on Christ. They are not found on stages. They are not discovered in applause. They are not earned through comparison. They are formed in the secret place. You develop them through obedience when no one is watching, forgiveness when no one apologizes, perseverance when no one helps, and faith when no one understands what God is doing in your life.

Wood, hay, and straw, by contrast, are the materials of ego—quick to build, easy to assemble, impressive on the surface, but weak in the testing. These represent motives rooted in self-importance, choices driven by fear, actions motivated by insecurity, or desires shaped by culture instead of Scripture. They burn because they were never meant to last. They were never eternal. They were never built on the foundation of Christ.

When Paul says each person’s work will be tested by fire, he is not threatening us. He is freeing us. He is telling us the truth: God cares more about the purity of your heart than the appearance of your accomplishments. The most liberating thing you can ever embrace is this—God is not evaluating your life the way people do. He is not counting how many people applaud you. He is weighing the motives behind the work. He is not impressed with your spiritual résumé. He is purifying your spiritual reality.

The fire is coming for all of us—not to destroy us, but to validate what was eternal in us.

That’s why spiritual maturity matters. Immaturity builds for today. Maturity builds for eternity. Immaturity asks, “Will this impress people?” Maturity asks, “Will this honor Christ?” Immaturity looks sideways and wonders how everyone else is doing. Maturity looks upward and says, “Search me, O God.” Immaturity thinks in terms of winning. Maturity thinks in terms of becoming.

And this leads to the most breathtaking statement Paul makes in the entire chapter: “You are God’s temple.” Paul is not speaking poetically. He is unveiling a spiritual reality that should shake every believer awake. You are not just forgiven. You are not just redeemed. You are not just called. You are the dwelling place of God. His Spirit resides within you—not symbolically but literally.

This means your life carries divine significance. It means your choices echo into eternity. It means your spiritual growth is not optional—it is essential. It means division grieves the Spirit because it violates the very unity God designed for His temple. It means insecurity is a lie because the presence of God is your identity. It means comparison is foolish because nothing built by God in your life needs to look like what He’s building in someone else’s.

You are the temple. You are sacred space. You are the place where God chooses to dwell.

If that truth ever becomes real to you, you will never again treat yourself casually. You will never again underestimate your calling. You will never again believe the lie that your life isn’t making a difference. God does not live in meaningless places. God does not dwell in unimportant structures. God does not build temples for no reason. If He lives in you, then your life carries purpose that the world cannot measure.

Paul closes this chapter by confronting pride one last time. “Let no one boast in men.” The reason you don’t need to boast is simple—everything you need, you already have. You belong to Christ. And when you belong to Christ, you inherit everything God intended for His children. You don’t need status. You don’t need the approval of crowds. You don’t need to win arguments to feel secure. You don’t need to compete with people standing on the same foundation as you. Everything that belongs to Christ is yours—and Christ belongs to God.

So what does this mean for your daily life?

It means you don’t have to force anything. Build faithfully. Let God grow it. It means you don’t have to compare yourself to anyone. You’re building a different room in the same temple. It means you don’t have to fear being overlooked. God sees every nail you drive, every seed you water, every prayer you whisper. It means you don’t have to panic when seasons feel slow. Growth belongs to God, not to you. It means your calling doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s to be eternal.

If you want a life that survives the fire, here is the truth: build slowly. Build humbly. Build honestly. Build sacrificially. Build prayerfully. Build from a heart fully surrendered to Christ. Build with materials that can survive eternity.

And when the fire comes—and it will—you won’t have to fear it. Because fire only destroys what wasn’t built to last. Everything God builds in you will stand. Everything formed in truth will remain. Everything rooted in love will shine. Everything surrendered to Christ will pass through the flames and come out purified, transformed, and eternal.

Build a life that lasts. Build a life the fire cannot burn away. Build a life worthy of the foundation beneath your feet.

Because that foundation is Christ—and Christ is worthy of everything you will ever become.

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Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

#faith #Christian #BibleStudy #Corinthians #SpiritualGrowth #Encouragement #Hope #Jesus #Motivation #Inspiration

Rayeanna; Baddie, Caretaker, Sage

#nsfw #glass

Rayeanna is twenty-seven — young but already seasoned in the art of tending to people who can’t tend to themselves. She works long shifts as a night nurse — psych patients, elderly patients, the weeping, the furious. She’s seen breakdowns and bathroom floors. But never like this. Never a thin, pale white woman half-possessed by a porn loop and a secret worship that leaks out of her in unstoppable waves. Rayeanna’s first instinct is to be ready: she checks her battle purse — sanitizer wipes, a comb, travel tissues, a small pink canister of mace, a pink taser tucked behind her phone charger. If this Karen flips the switch from helpless to hateful, she’ll be ready. But right now, all she sees is a woman so cracked open by her own secrets that she can’t even stand up straight.

Rayeanna wipes Meredith’s cheeks first — gently, with a mother’s touch. Meredith hasn’t felt this kind of touch since her own mother died in a hospice bed fifteen years ago. She wipes away sweat from her upper lip, tears from her chin. She pulls a clean sanitary wipe from the pouch and presses it into Meredith’s clammy palm. “Here, baby. Clean your hands. Come on.” Her voice is low, soft — but there’s steel under it. She can command a grown man in a full psych break to sit the hell down. She can handle this.

Meredith stares at her, wide-eyed, trembling. Her mind tries to form the usual armor — the frost, the cutting line about privacy or decency. But it won’t come. She just stares at the soft slope of Rayeanna’s belly in the tight dusty pink one-piece. The faint sheen of gloss on her full lips. The scent — warm coconut and faint summer sweat — that makes Meredith’s thighs twitch even now.

Rayeanna pulls a small comb from her bag, smooths a few strands of Meredith’s hair away from her forehead. No one has done this for Meredith since she was a child. Not a hug — not an empty “there, there” — but real touch. Real, practical mercy. She wants to weep again.

They walk out of the restroom. Meredith full of shame steps back into the light. She’s a hot mess, but at least her arousal has subsided to a dull throb. She can focus. She can walk. Slowly.

When Meredith’s knees stop buckling, Rayeanna watches her carefully, taking silent stock of her slow breaths, her pink, raw eyes, her sudden stutters. Meredith wants to get away. Get to her car. Escape this embarrassment. Rayeanna knows this energy all too well once she sees where the woman is trying to go.

“You’re not driving,” Rayeanna says, flat and kind all at once. “No way. We’re gonna sit. Over there.” She nods toward a shaded gazebo — half-broken picnic table under peeling white paint. Safe enough. Open enough. She doesn’t trust Meredith not to snap, but the woman looks more like she’ll break herself than anyone else.

They walk together. Meredith clasps her bag to her chest like a child hugging a stuffed animal. Her phone — still open to black porn loops — buzzes in her pocket. She looks longingly at the screen one more time before she puts her phone on mute and locks the screen. Rayeanna sees this and takes note of it. Clearly this woman has some fort of porn problem and needs serious mental help.

They sit. Rayeanna crosses her legs, stays close but not too close — her free hand resting on her purse in case she needs the taser. Meredith opens her mouth. The first words tumble out clumsy, jumbled. But once they start, they don’t stop:

She talks about the hotel pay-per-view when she was barely twenty, drunk with her first husband’s snores in the next bed. How she watched a black woman ride and laugh and shine under cheap lamplight and how something inside her broke — or maybe opened.

She talks about her carefully pruned marriages — good on paper, dead in bed. How men called her frigid, cold, hollow. They were right, she says, they were all right — because she didn’t want them. She only wanted black porn.

She explains carefully how it’s not some blacked or BBC cuck fantasy — she hates that trash. She sees how cringe it felt her how forced it felt. It felt like a corporate machine of manipulation trying to maintain racism and oppressing black people.

Rayeanna blinked. How in the heck this HOA suburban queen who’s probably never talked to a black person get this right? She had to pay more attention now.

She wants the real bodies, the real softness, the real wildness she’ll never have for herself. “Not tools, not toys — goddesses,” She says the word like a prayer that can’t stop falling from her lips.

She admits how she ruined herself with a pagan ritual. Clearly she can’t trust herself in public anymore. That’s why she’s like this now. Openly admitting she has a dull aching sexual throb just by being in her presence–Rayeanna raises and eyebrow, her hand arming the taser in her purse silently.

Meredith continued her confession about how the pagan ritual was successful, but clearly too successful.. how it failed her and turned her into a degenerate pervert stalker. She was commanded by the spirits to go across town. They told her she needed to see black women in person for the first time. How she had to steal glances at black women with her eyes, with her ears, with her phone playing porn in her headphones as she went through the park.

She knows how sick and depraved it all sounds. She says she’s broken, fundamentally. She knows it. She half expects Rayeanna to spit in her face. Or hit her. Or scream.

She almost hopes for it. She deserves it. Meredith closed her eyes expecting violence because she enraged this stranger.

Rayeanna listens. She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t edge away. The whole time her dark eyes stay locked on Meredith’s flushed, mortified and defeated face.

When it’s over, Meredith’s voice cracks. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. I know what this looks like. I’m sick. I’d pay you — if you’d keep quiet. Or — or if you’d just… talk to me. Please.” She looks so small now, so paper-thin in her dirty prim blouse and pearls that don’t fit her sins.

Her thighs still ache. Her clit still pulsate with her heartbeat. She keeps telling her its normal and she wants this, but at the same time, she accepts she was not careful for what she wished for. For now, the porn demon is silent — waiting to see what this real goddess will do.

Rayeanna takes a slow breath. She feels pity. Confusion. A flicker of disgust she buries under layers of her nurse’s professional calm.

But also… something else. A dark, unwanted sympathy. She knows what it means to chase things you’ll never be — to crave softness, realness, life beyond what the world says you’re allowed to have. She’s been fetishized before — ugly, entitled hands, cheap dirty talk, black girl jokes in bed. But this? This isn’t that.

This is worse, in a way — sadder. This broken Karen didn’t want to use her. She wanted to be her. Or worship her. Or both.

Rayeanna sighs. Her eyes soften, even as her fingers tumble armed taser inside her purse. She leans in, just enough for Meredith to smell that warm coconut scent again.

“Okay,” she says, voice quiet but unflinching. “I’m not gonna beat you. I’m not gonna run. But you need help. Real help. And you need to promise me you’ll listen. Do you hear me?”

Meredith nods so fast it looks like her neck might snap. Her eyes glisten. She looks at Rayeanna the way a dying thing looks at a cup of water. “I’ll listen,” Meredith whispers. “I’ll listen to anything. I swear. Please help me if you can.”

And for the first time in Meredith’s life, the word please tastes clean on her tongue.

Rayeanna sits opposite Meredith on the cracked bench, legs crossed, purse tucked tight against her hip. She watches Meredith’s trembling hands, her bitten lip, her watery eyes. She sees the thing inside her — the itch that never sleeps, the shine behind her pupils. It makes her stomach knot. Rayeanna just needed a closer look to confirm. Meredith just thought it was a gesture of kindness.

Rayeanna can’t stop thinking about those words.. ‘pagan ritual’. It pulls at a dark corner of her mind — something old her grandmother whispered when she was little, stories she brushed off as old island fears: Spirits that listen if you talk too loud. Spirits that wake if you knock on the wrong door.

Rayeanna clears her throat. “I need you to tell me exactly what you did. Not the porn part. Not the, um… gooning. The ritual. Step by step. What did you say? What did you light? What did you promise?”

Meredith shifts under her prim skirt. She notices the warmth trickling down her inner thigh. A sign that her arousal is far from normal — However, she doesn’t notice the faint, sweet scent drifting up. Like sugar lilies, like jasmine after rain, the kind of scent that should come from a candle — not her own leaking cunt.

She doesn’t smell it. She’s probably too humiliated to care or notice. But Rayeanna does. She frowns, subtle, but doesn’t interrupt. She did see the puddle forming at Meredith’s feet but didn’t acknowledge it. Rayeanna has already seen the impossible. The pulsating pussy of something unworldly. Meredith’s pussy leaking something no grown woman should be capable of in deep arousal. She’s just never seen any kind of spiritual possession like this before, and she has seen a lot.

Meredith clutches her phone with both hands. Her voice trembles. “I… I found it on this board. An old thread — just old porn addicts, some of them said they’d tried it. It was just dumb words. Like an incantation. They called it a devotional goon binding. Said it makes the urge stronger but contained. Makes you pure for what you worship.”

She shudders at her own phrasing — but pushes through. “I bought candles — black ones, purple ones from a wiccan site. I drew this shape on my mirror like the guide said. It looked like an eye. I sat naked with my laptop in front of it — folders of all my favorite porn clips. I lit the candles and kept whispering: Make me pure for them. Make me need them more than air. Make me useless for anything else but this. Over and over. For hours. I masturbated the whole time. Edging. Begging. Wanting.”

Her voice drops, hoarse. “I came once. And then again. And then I woke up and I couldn’t stop. And now… now it’s like something’s watching. Or… feeding.” Meredith was too far gone to care at this point. Her confession had triggered her arousal to full tilt. The small bloom of wet pussy juice was darkening the bench under her skirt. But Rayeanna’s eyes flick down, just once. She catches the faint shimmer trailing down Meredith’s knee — a thin line that glistens in the hot daylight like dew. The scent is unmistakable: sweet. Too sweet for sweat. Too floral for sex alone. It was an omen. Death was coming to this woman. Rayeanna’s heart knocks against her ribs. She thinks of her grandmother’s cracked voice, the soft Haitian Creole prayers before bed: Some spirits stick to the desperate. Some pacts stick to the unclean. She glances at Meredith’s face — all sharp cheekbones and watery shame, but her body is ripe. She’s leaking like an overripe fruit under a polished shell. And the smell makes the little hairs rise on Rayeanna’s neck. “Did you close it?” Rayeanna asks, voice low. “Did you thank it? Did you break the circle?”

Meredith shakes her head, confused. “No… the post didn’t say anything about that. I just… passed out masturbating while watching porn in the circle.”

A drop of her sweetness lands on the wooden slat between her shoes. Rayeanna shifts her purse closer. One hand finds the cool edge of the comb, the other brushes the taser.

‘Old spirits love a fool,’ her grandmother used to say. ’But they’ll bleed you dry if you don’t pay them right.’

Meredith was not paying in blood this time. She was paying with her sexual essence and whatever was left of her soul slowly melting out of her pussy. And she didn’t even know how much danger she truly was in.

Rayeanna leans in, close enough to smell the bloom of Meredith’s living perfume. “Honey… you didn’t bind anything. You fed it. You opened something. And now it’s feeding on you.”

Meredith’s eyes flicker — the words land, but her thighs twitch too. The idea that something that doesn’t belong is alive inside her, sucking at her bones, makes her wet again. A ghost moan rattles behind her tongue.

Neither of them fully notice it yet. But the ritual does. It weaves through Meredith’s bloodstream — an old, sticky echo of an idea she could never pronounce right. It likes being spoken of. It likes being named. Acknowledgement gives it power.

It kisses her pulse points with the smell of warm, blooming flowers — sweet, fertile, impossible.

And both women feel it at the edges of their skin: Something alive. Something awake. Something that wants to be fed.

Rayeanna has encountered dark sprits like this before. She had to save this poor naive woman.

There are moments in Scripture when the apostle Paul pulls back the veil just enough for us to see the true machinery of heaven—how God thinks, how God speaks, and how God chooses to move in ways that leave the world scratching its head. First Corinthians chapter 2 is one of those moments. It is Paul standing in the middle of a sophisticated, intellectual, honor-driven city—Corinth—and declaring to their faces that the greatest power they will ever encounter does not come from philosophy, rhetoric, or position, but from the Spirit of the living God. This chapter is not merely instruction; it is a manifesto of how divine truth enters human hearts and reshapes the world one surrendered life at a time.

When I read 1 Corinthians 2, I don’t hear a theologian giving a lecture. I hear a man who has been utterly undone by an encounter with Christ. I hear someone who has learned, by fire and failure and grace, that human eloquence cannot deliver what the Spirit alone can accomplish. I hear a man who has stripped his ministry down to the studs and built it on one unshakeable foundation: Jesus Christ and Him crucified. And if we slow down enough, if we let the noise of modern life fade for just a moment, this chapter becomes more than theology. It becomes a mirror. It becomes a compass. It becomes a reminder that everything powerful God does in us flows from a wisdom not of this age, not of its rulers, not of its trends, but from a God who delights in working through what others overlook.

Paul begins by reminding the Corinthians that he did not come to them with “superiority of speech or wisdom.” That statement alone should stop us in our tracks. Corinth celebrated brilliance, debate, public argument, intellectual posturing, and the cleverness of men. That was their currency. Yet Paul deliberately refused to trade in it. He wasn’t incapable of eloquence—Acts shows us he was brilliant, articulate, persuasive. But in Corinth, he made a decision: nothing he said would compete with the cross. He refused to let style overshadow substance. He refused to let his own skill overshadow the power of God. He refused to rely on anything that could cause people to admire him instead of surrendering to Christ.

This is a word our generation desperately needs. We live in a time where people are applauded for being impressive, not transformed. Where presentation often outranks truth. Where charisma gets mistaken for anointing. Where content gets mistaken for conviction. But the cross cannot be reduced to a performance, and the Spirit cannot be replaced by personality. Paul is reminding us that the only message capable of reshaping a heart, rebuilding a life, or resurrecting a soul is the message of Jesus crucified—and the only power capable of making that message real inside the human heart is the Holy Spirit.

Paul goes further: “I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.” Why would a man as seasoned as Paul tremble? Because he understood the gravity of the task. He understood that when you stand before people carrying the message of the cross, the eternal condition of souls hangs in the balance. He trembled because he was aware of his own insufficiency—and at the same time, aware of God’s overwhelming sufficiency. His trembling wasn’t insecurity; it was reverence. It was the trembling of a man who has stood before the throne of mercy and knows that any power on earth is borrowed, not earned.

Then he delivers the line that every preacher, teacher, or believer should tattoo onto the inside of their soul: “My message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power.” Paul is drawing a line between what human beings can accomplish and what only God can accomplish. You can persuade people intellectually, but only the Spirit can persuade them spiritually. You can move emotions for a moment, but only the Spirit can transform a heart for eternity. You can impress a crowd, but only the Spirit can resurrect a dead soul. Paul wanted nothing he built to collapse under the weight of human fragility. He wanted their faith rooted in something eternal, immovable—even when he was not present.

From here, Paul shifts into one of the deepest mysteries of the New Testament: the hidden wisdom of God. He writes that he does speak wisdom, but not the wisdom of this age or its rulers. The wisdom of God is something the world cannot decode, cannot anticipate, cannot contain. It is a wisdom that existed before time, a wisdom prepared before the ages for our glory. This is staggering. Before God said “Let there be light,” He had already prepared a pathway for your redemption, your purpose, your restoration, and your transformation. Before the world existed, God already had a plan for how to reveal Himself to you, how to pull you out of darkness, how to adopt you into His family, how to draw you into His eternal story.

And Paul adds a sobering truth: If the rulers of this age had understood this wisdom, they never would have crucified the Lord of glory. The brilliance of God’s hidden wisdom is that it operates above and beyond human logic. The very powers that thought they were extinguishing Christ were actually fulfilling God’s eternal plan to save the world. The cross was not a tragedy that God salvaged; it was a victory God orchestrated. Every nail, every insult, every wound, every moment of agony was not a defeat—it was the world’s only hope being forged in real time. The enemy never saw it coming. Evil never recognized what God was doing. Human power never understood it. Heaven was writing a redemption story while hell was celebrating too early.

Then Paul reaches the heart of the chapter—the verse many know, but few truly understand: “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it entered the heart of man what God has prepared for those who love Him.” People often apply this to heaven—and while that’s not wrong, Paul is actually talking about something happening right now. He is saying that the human mind, left to itself, cannot even imagine the things God desires to reveal. The plans He has for you. The depth of His love. The richness of His truth. The glory He wants to place inside a surrendered life. Your natural senses are not capable of grasping divine reality without divine revelation. The best human effort cannot climb high enough to reach the mind of God. It must be given, unveiled, delivered through the Spirit.

And so Paul says it plainly: “But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit.” The Holy Spirit is not a supplement to Christian life; He is the only way the Christian life becomes possible. Without the Spirit, the Bible is just an ancient book. With the Spirit, it becomes the breath of God. Without the Spirit, the cross is a historical event. With the Spirit, it becomes the power that shatters chains and resurrects hearts. Without the Spirit, faith becomes theory. With the Spirit, faith becomes oxygen. Everything God wants to show you, teach you, transform in you, or awaken in you must come through His Spirit.

Paul explains why. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. There are depths in God that human intellect cannot reach. There are truths too vast for human analysis. There are realities too profound for earthly categories. Just as no one knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit within him, no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. And that is the Spirit given to us. Think about that. The same Spirit who knows the mind of God has taken up residence within every believer. The Spirit who hovered over the waters at creation is the Spirit who whispers peace into your anxious nights. The Spirit who empowered Jesus is the Spirit who strengthens you when you feel weak. The Spirit who authored Scripture is the Spirit who opens your understanding as you read it.

Paul says we have not received the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand the things freely given to us. This is not mere comprehension—it is revelation. It is the unveiling of divine truth. It is the awakening of spiritual awareness. It is the moment when something you’ve read a thousand times suddenly catches fire inside your soul because the Spirit ignites it.

And then Paul addresses the divide that still defines humanity today: the natural person versus the spiritual person. The natural person—the one operating only in human strength, human logic, human thinking—cannot accept the things of the Spirit. They seem foolish. They seem irrational. They seem too mysterious, too unscientific, too impractical, too inconvenient. But the spiritual person—the one surrendered to the Spirit—discerns all things because they are operating from a wisdom not of this age.

Paul concludes with a thunderous declaration: “We have the mind of Christ.” Not because we are brilliant. Not because we are holy. Not because we have achieved something. But because the Holy Spirit has united us with the very life of Jesus. The mind of Christ becomes accessible. The heart of Christ becomes available. The wisdom of Christ becomes alive within us. And nothing—no culture, no trend, no darkness—can take that away.

When Paul speaks of a “spiritual person,” he is not describing someone who is perfect, elite, or unreachable. He is describing someone who has learned how to lean on a wisdom not their own. Someone who has stopped trying to build their life on the scaffolding of human understanding. Someone who has discovered the freedom of letting God define reality instead of letting the world define it.

There is something liberating about realizing that you no longer have to keep up with the world’s standards of intelligence, performance, or applause. The Corinthians were obsessed with public respect, intellectual status, and philosophical prestige. Their culture rewarded brilliance, debate, and polished argumentation. But Paul is saying something revolutionary: spiritual maturity does not depend on how capable you are, but on how surrendered you are. The Spirit does not require you to be impressive; the Spirit requires you to be open. God does not anoint arrogance. God anoints availability.

This means the most spiritually powerful people you will ever meet may not be the most educated, the most articulate, or the most outwardly accomplished. They are the ones who have learned how to listen to the Spirit even when the world calls them foolish. They are the ones who have learned that the quiet nudge of the Holy Spirit carries more weight than a thousand clever arguments. They are the ones who have traded the illusion of human competence for the reality of divine guidance. That is spiritual wisdom. That is the hidden revelation Paul is describing. And it is available to every believer willing to lay down their own wisdom to receive God’s.

Paul’s words remind us that human wisdom has an expiration date. Everything this world celebrates eventually crumbles: philosophies change, cultures shift, opinions evolve, rulers rise and fall, and human brilliance fades. But the wisdom of God remains untouched and unchanged. When you build your life on the wisdom of this age, you are building on sand. When you build your life on the wisdom of God, you are building on the granite of eternity. One collapses when the storm comes. The other becomes stronger under pressure. Paul is urging us to choose the foundation that will still be standing long after the world’s wisdom has burned away.

The natural person lives according to their senses—what they see, feel, hear, and understand. And because the Spirit’s wisdom does not originate in human senses, the natural person cannot grasp it. This is why some people hear the gospel and shrug, while others hear the same message and fall to their knees. It is why some people read Scripture and feel nothing, while others read a single verse and feel their entire life shift. It is why some people call faith foolishness, while others know it is the breath of their existence. Without the Spirit, the deepest truths of God remain locked. With the Spirit, they unfold like a sunrise that keeps revealing new colors you never knew existed.

This is one of the most profound truths about God’s relationship with His people: He reveals Himself at the speed of surrender. Not the speed of intelligence. Not the speed of academic ability. Not the speed of accomplishment. If your heart is open, the Spirit will teach you more than a lifetime of study without Him ever could. Revelation is not earned; it is received. Wisdom is not achieved; it is revealed. The deep things of God are not discovered by climbing, striving, or competing—they are unveiled to those who sit still long enough to let the Spirit speak.

And this is where Paul’s message becomes deeply practical. If the wisdom of God cannot be received by natural means, then the battles we face cannot be fought with natural weapons. The confusion, anxiety, discouragement, and spiritual assault you experience cannot be defeated merely by logic, self-help, motivational thought, or intellectual strength. You need the wisdom of the Spirit to discern what is attacking you, to understand what God is doing in you, and to stand firm when everything around you feels unstable. Without the Spirit, even believers begin to interpret life incorrectly. They misread hardship. They misinterpret silence. They misunderstand delay. They confuse spiritual warfare with personal failure. They assume God is distant when He is actually working beneath the surface. The Spirit helps you see what human sight cannot.

Paul’s statement that “we have the mind of Christ” is not hyperbole—it is the reality of the Spirit-empowered life. The mind of Christ is a way of seeing the world that cuts through confusion. It is a way of interpreting suffering that leads to growth instead of despair. It is a way of understanding people that leads to compassion instead of frustration. It is a way of discerning truth that cannot be manipulated by culture or emotion. When you have the mind of Christ, you are no longer controlled by the fear of the unknown because you are connected to the One who holds all knowledge. You are no longer paralyzed by decisions because wisdom is not something you chase; it is something the Spirit gives. You are no longer shaped by the world because the Spirit is shaping you from the inside out.

This is why spiritual discernment is one of the most precious gifts God gives His children. Discernment is not suspicion, skepticism, or intuition. Discernment is the Spirit enabling you to see what is true, even when your emotions try to deceive you. Discernment is the Spirit giving you clarity when your circumstances create confusion. Discernment is the Spirit whispering direction when your own wisdom runs out. The spiritual person is not simply someone who reads the Bible—they are someone who lets the Spirit interpret it. They are not simply someone who prays—they are someone who listens. They are not simply someone who believes—they are someone who yields.

Paul’s message also carries a warning. If the rulers of this age had understood the wisdom of God, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory. This tells us that human power structures are often completely blind to God’s activity. They misidentify what matters. They misinterpret what God is doing. They oppose what God has ordained. The same danger exists today. Without the Spirit, even religious people can stand in the way of God’s movement. Without the Spirit, churches can cling to tradition while missing transformation. Without the Spirit, believers can become critics of what God is trying to grow inside them.

The cross remains the most powerful example. The moment the world mocked, heaven celebrated. The moment evil believed it had won, salvation was being unleashed. The moment darkness thought it extinguished the Light, the Light was breaking the chains of every future believer. This is the wisdom not of this age. This is the upside-down brilliance of God. He takes what looks like defeat and makes it victory. He takes what looks like weakness and makes it power. He takes what looks like foolishness and makes it wisdom so deep that even spiritual principalities cannot decode it.

This is why Paul refused to rely on eloquence. This is why he preached Christ crucified. This is why he trembled before proclaiming the gospel. Because he knew that the cross does not need human polishing. It needs Spirit-powered revelation. The cross does not need to be made impressive. It needs to be made visible. The cross does not need decoration. It needs proclamation. And when the Spirit carries that proclamation into human hearts, things change. People change. Destinies change. Families change. Eternities change. Not because of the preacher, but because of the Spirit.

If you take anything from 1 Corinthians 2, let it be this: you are not called to be impressive—you are called to be surrendered. You are not called to manufacture wisdom—you are called to receive it. You are not called to figure out your whole life—you are called to walk with the Spirit who already knows every step. You are not called to understand everything—you are called to trust the One who understands all things. And when you let the Spirit guide you, you begin to live a life that the world cannot explain, cannot decode, and cannot imitate.

This chapter is an invitation to live from a deeper well. To stop starving on surface-level wisdom. To stop relying on human strength when divine strength is available. To stop living by what your eyes see and start living by what the Spirit reveals. It is an invitation to step into a wisdom that cannot be stolen, an identity that cannot be shaken, and a power that cannot be defeated. It is Paul reminding every believer across every century: you have access to the mind of Christ. Use it. Trust it. Lean into it. And let the Spirit lead you into the deep things of God.

In the end, 1 Corinthians 2 is not merely about how Paul preached—it is about how we live. Not in the wisdom of the world, but in the wisdom of God. Not in the power of the flesh, but in the power of the Spirit. Not in the pride of human ability, but in the humility of divine revelation. This is the life that turns darkness into testimony, weakness into strength, and suffering into glory. This is the life the Spirit empowers. This is the life God desires for you. And this is the life that stands firm when everything else falls.

Thank you for walking through this chapter with me. May these truths settle deeply into your heart and awaken something powerful inside you—something that cannot be shaken by culture, fear, or circumstance. Something born of the Spirit. Something anchored in Christ. Something eternal.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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On Bandcamp. On MusicBrainz.

For the second of my “albums released in 2025 which you should really listen to before the year is out” recommendations, Yosi Horikawa¦s Impulse is a no‐brainer. I¦ve been following Horikawa¦s output ever since Wandering was released in 2012, and I¦m happy to say that this latest album holds up against the high bar set by its predecessors.

Each Yosi Horikawa album has its own feel; Vapor, in 2013, was accessible and familiar, driven by beats and sonic textures; Spaces, in 2019, was more experimental, leaning into Horikawa¦s use of field recordings and elevated a sense of place. Impulse lands somewhere between the two, but is more than just a compromise; rather, it feels like a refinement, a honing in on a feeling and a sound.

Favourite track: Some of my favourite Yosi Horikawa songs are the ones which make use of vocals, but I think “Snow Bird” deserves special mention for taking its vocals not from a human but from a bird. Of course, this is an appropriation of bird speech for human ears, but it serves as an important reminder that we are far from the progenitors of melody or sound. Computers and technology may give us the ability to arrange and understand these things in a different way, but this music is, in some way, just a new form of appreciation for what has always been there.

#AlbumOfTheWeek

Today I’ve implemented a basic search to filter the entries. It's just a simple search field on top of the entries list; here you can type in keywords and reduce the list to what you need. Simple as that.

That’s it for today. 👋

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70 of #100DaysToOffload
#log #AdventOfProgress
Thoughts?

When you slow down long enough to sit with 1 Corinthians 1, something powerful begins to rise. You can feel the weight of Paul’s urgency. You can hear the trembling inside the church at Corinth. You can sense the fracture lines forming beneath the surface of a community that had been given every spiritual blessing, yet still struggled under the pressure of ego, identity, and division. And if you listen closely, you realize this chapter is not simply a message for an ancient church—it is a mirror held up to every believer today, especially to communities surrounded by noise, competition, divided loyalties, and the temptation to elevate personality over purpose. This chapter reads like Paul is stepping into our world today and saying, “Do you understand what you carry? Do you understand what you’ve been called into? Do you know the power of the cross that has claimed you?”

This chapter begins not with confrontation but with affirmation. Paul calls them “sanctified,” “called,” and “recipients of grace and peace.” He anchors their identity before addressing their disorder. That alone is a sermon. Correction is never meant to destroy; it is meant to restore. But to restore someone, you must ground them in who they are before you ever tell them who they are not acting like. And that is exactly what Paul does. Before he mentions divisions, he reminds them: You are enriched in Christ. You lack nothing. You have spiritual gifts. You are called into fellowship with Jesus. Imagine how differently our relationships, our ministries, and even our families would look if we learned to address conflict the way Paul models it here—affirmation first, identity first, grace first. Every believer needs that reminder, especially in a world where even Christians are quick to point out flaws before acknowledging God’s work in someone’s life.

Then Paul shifts. He moves from affirmation to urgent concern: the divisions tearing the Corinthian church apart. “I follow Paul.” “I follow Apollos.” “I follow Cephas.” “I follow Christ.” The names may be different, but the pattern hasn’t changed. Human nature still gravitates toward personalities, styles, and tribes. We still elevate the messenger over the message. We still find ways to fracture what God intends to hold together. If you have ever seen a church split, a ministry divide, or Christians turn on one another in the name of “their side,” you understand the depth of Paul’s grief here. He is pleading with them to see what is at stake. The moment our loyalty shifts from Christ Himself to a person or a preference, we’ve stepped away from the unity the gospel demands. The moment we treat charisma as spiritual maturity, we invite disorder. The moment someone’s voice becomes bigger to us than the voice of Jesus, we’re following the wrong shepherd.

Paul asks them a piercing question—one that still echoes through the centuries: “Is Christ divided?” That question is not rhetorical; it is revelatory. It exposes the absurdity of our divisions. Christ cannot be divided, but His people can. And when they are, His representation in the world becomes blurred, distorted, weakened. It is a sobering truth—one that calls every believer to examine their heart. What are the divisions we still carry? What preferences do we elevate above purpose? Who have we quietly chosen to follow more closely than Christ Himself? What spiritual pride have we allowed to creep into our identity? This chapter is a call to repent—not in shame, but in realignment. Not in guilt, but in clarity. Paul is not shaming the Corinthians; he is realigning them. And we need that same realignment today.

Paul goes on to say something radical: he is thankful he baptized only a few people. Not because he believed baptism was unimportant, but because he knew people would have used his involvement as another point of division. Paul wants the people to remember who saved them, not who baptized them. Who redeemed them, not who taught them. Who transformed them, not who led them. That humility is astonishing. In today’s culture—where leaders fight for influence, recognition, numbers, and followers—Paul pushes all of that aside and says, “It was never supposed to be about me. It was supposed to be about Christ.” That is the heart of a true servant. A true leader never competes with Jesus. A true leader never steals the spotlight from the message. A true leader refuses to let ego mix with ministry. Paul doesn’t want even a hint of personal glory attached to his work, because the gospel is never about the messenger; it is always about the cross.

And then we reach what may be one of the most defining statements in the entire chapter: “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” That single sentence divides humanity—not into political groups, not into economic categories, not into educated versus uneducated, but into those who see the cross as foolishness and those who see it as power. The cross has always stood as a contradiction to human logic. It is strength in weakness. Victory through surrender. Triumph through suffering. God descending instead of humanity ascending. In a world obsessed with achievement, status, and self-promotion, the cross looks foolish. In a world that values self-preservation, the idea of laying down your life looks unreasonable. And yet, the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. Paul wants the Corinthians—and us—to see that the power of God operates on a different frequency than the world.

Paul explains that God intentionally chose a path that would confound human pride. He chose what the world calls foolish to shame the wise. He chose what the world considers weak to shame the strong. He intentionally uses the unexpected, the overlooked, the underestimated. That is why you can never count someone out when God puts His hand on their life. That is why He can raise shepherd boys into kings, fishermen into apostles, exiles into prophets, and broken people into vessels of glory. God does not need impressive résumés or flawless credentials. He does not scan the world for the polished and perfect. He looks for willing hearts—because a willing heart leaves room for His power. And when God moves through someone the world never expected, He alone gets the glory.

Paul repeats this truth again and again in different ways: no believer can boast in themselves. Everything we are, everything we have, everything we have become—all of it flows from Christ. He is our wisdom, our righteousness, our sanctification, and our redemption. That is not just theology; that is identity. You are not defined by your past failures, your intellectual limits, or your spiritual achievements. You are defined by Jesus. You stand before God not because you earned something, but because Christ gave you everything. And that means your story can never be reduced to your weaknesses or your wounds. It means your calling cannot be undermined by your critics. It means your identity cannot be shaken by the opinions of people who don’t understand the grace of God at work inside you.

This chapter is a call to return—to return to unity, to humility, to purpose, to the power of the cross. It is a reminder that the world’s standards do not determine God’s strategy. It is an invitation to step out of the noise of comparison and the chains of division and into the clarity of a life anchored in Christ alone. The Corinthians had gifts, intelligence, influence, and opportunity—but they were losing their effectiveness because they had drifted from the simplicity of the gospel. Paul’s words invite every believer today to examine: Where have I drifted? Where have I allowed pride, personality, or division to dim the message of Christ in me? And where is God calling me back into alignment?

This is the message that begins to unfold through this chapter, and its echoes continue into the next. The church at Corinth was full of potential but burdened with disorder. And Paul, like a spiritual father, steps in not to condemn but to restore. His words, though written centuries ago, feel like they were crafted for our moment in history—for a generation drowning in voices, fragmented by opinions, and pulled apart by tribal thinking. Paul reminds us that the cross is still the center. Christ is still the foundation. And unity is still the evidence that we belong to Him.

When Paul turns the Corinthians’ attention back to the cross, he is not calling them to a symbol; he is calling them to a reality. The cross is not an accessory to hang around the neck of a believer—it is the very center of our confession, the place where God overturned everything the world thought it understood about strength, wisdom, and victory. The Corinthians were drifting because their attention had shifted toward the brilliance of human arguments and the charisma of human leaders. They were caught in the gravity of personalities. But Paul pulls them back: “Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with wisdom and eloquence, lest the cross be emptied of its power.” This moment is stunning. Paul acknowledges a danger that still threatens the church today: if the message becomes too dependent on the skill of the messenger, the cross becomes overshadowed. This is not because the gospel loses actual power but because people begin to see the messenger instead of the Messiah.

Paul understood something deeply spiritual—whenever the church becomes enamored with eloquence, performance, or intellectual spectacle, the simplicity of the gospel gets crowded out. There is nothing wrong with clarity or knowledge or excellent communication, but the true power of the gospel has never depended on human brilliance. It has always depended on the Spirit of God moving through surrendered vessels. A polished argument may impress, but it cannot regenerate the human heart. A charismatic personality may entertain, but it cannot resurrect the dead. A compelling presentation may stir emotion, but it cannot save the soul. Paul wants the Corinthians to see that the gospel does not rest in the skill of the preacher; it rests in the supernatural power of the cross.

And when Paul contrasts the “wisdom of the world” with the “foolishness of God,” he is not being poetic—he is being prophetic. The world’s wisdom is built on achievement, merit, success, and self-elevation. God’s wisdom is built on sacrifice, surrender, humility, and grace. The world celebrates the powerful; God chooses the powerless. The world celebrates the influential; God calls the ordinary. The world celebrates the brilliant; God reveals Himself to the childlike. And when Paul says, “God has made foolish the wisdom of the world,” he is announcing that human attempts to reach God through intellect, philosophy, or moral effort will always fall short. The cross is not a puzzle for scholars to solve—it is a gift for sinners to receive.

In Corinth, a city obsessed with knowledge, philosophy, and prestige, this message confronted the cultural air they breathed. The Greeks sought wisdom. The Jews sought signs. But God offered something that satisfied neither group’s expectations. He offered a crucified Messiah. To the Jews, that seemed like weakness. To the Greeks, that seemed like nonsense. But to those who believed, this crucified Christ became both the wisdom and the power of God. One of the most profound truths in the entire New Testament rests right here: God’s way of saving humanity does not align with humanity’s expectations. If people could explain it, they would take credit. If they could achieve it, they would boast. But salvation is a divine interruption of human pride. It must come through a path we cannot manufacture, predict, or control.

This is why Paul emphasizes the calling of the Corinthians themselves. He says, “Consider your calling.” He points out that most of them were not wise by human standards, not influential, not noble. They were ordinary people. But God moved through them. God chose them. God had a purpose for them that exceeded the world’s categories. And this is one of the most transformational insights in Scripture: the value of your calling does not come from your qualifications but from the God who calls you. Too many believers disqualify themselves before they ever begin—thinking their background is too messy, their skill too small, their mistakes too big. But Paul forces the Corinthians to look at themselves through heaven’s eyes. God chose the people the world overlooked so that no one could boast. Your story is not limited by where you started; it is defined by where God is taking you.

This entire chapter is a challenge to our identities. So often, believers look at themselves through the mirror of their failures or the lens of their insecurities. But Paul reframes everything: “You are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness, and redemption.” This is one of the richest identity statements in the Bible. Christ is not simply someone you believe in; He is the source of everything you could never produce on your own. You are righteous because of Him. You are holy because of Him. You are redeemed because of Him. And when Paul declares that Christ Himself has become your wisdom, he is telling you that you no longer need to depend on the world’s version of intelligence to navigate life. You have access to the mind of Christ.

This redefinition of identity is crucial for spiritual maturity. The Corinthians were gifted, but they were insecure. They had potential, but they were divided. They were called, but they were easily distracted. And Paul addresses their immaturity not by telling them to try harder but by reminding them who they already are in Christ. Spiritual growth is not the result of striving—it is the result of alignment. The Corinthians needed to step back into the identity that Christ had given them, not the identity they were forming through comparison and division. When believers forget who they are, their gifts become distorted, their relationships become fragile, and their purpose becomes diluted. But when they return to their identity in Christ, everything begins to realign.

Paul closes the chapter with a phrase that reshapes how we understand discipleship: “Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.” This is not simply a moral instruction; it is an invitation into freedom. When you boast in the Lord, you are freed from the pressure to impress others. You are freed from the anxiety of measuring up. You are freed from the exhaustion of performing for approval. You are freed from the temptation to compete with other believers. You become rooted, steady, grounded in what God has done rather than in what you can achieve. And this freedom creates unity. People who boast only in the Lord cannot be divided by ego, because ego has nothing left to claim. People who boast only in the Lord cannot be intimidated by others, because they are secure in Christ. People who boast only in the Lord cannot be manipulated by praise or criticism, because both are swallowed by the truth of who God is.

This is the heartbeat of 1 Corinthians 1. Paul wants a fractured church to return to unity, a distracted church to return to purpose, a prideful church to return to humility, and a confused church to return to the cross. Everything he writes in the chapters that follow will build on the foundation he lays here. Without unity, the gifts become distorted. Without humility, knowledge becomes dangerous. Without the cross, everything becomes empty. But when Christ is at the center—truly and fully at the center—everything begins to flourish again.

The Corinthians had the same struggle we have today: they were surrounded by competing voices. Culture pulled them in one direction. Pride pulled them in another. Comparison pulled them apart. And yet the same Christ who called them is the same Christ who calls us—to unity, to identity, to purpose, to the power of the cross. If you let this chapter speak deeply enough, you will feel Paul’s hands on your shoulders, turning your face away from the noise, away from the arguments, away from the divisions—and back to the crucified and risen Christ, who alone has the power to heal, restore, and redefine everything about your life.

This chapter is not an academic argument; it is a spiritual reset. It is God calling His people back to what matters. It is an invitation to abandon the weights we were never meant to carry. It is a reminder that the cross is still enough, Christ is still the wisdom of God, and the calling on your life is still intact—even if others counted you out or you counted yourself out. The Corinthians were living proof that God does not wait for perfect vessels; He empowers imperfect ones. The question Paul leaves hanging in the air is this: will you boast in yourself, or will you boast in the Lord? Will you trust your own wisdom, or will you surrender to His? Will you build your identity on the shifting sands of human opinions, or will you anchor it in the unshakeable truth of the cross?

1 Corinthians 1 ends by calling us to strip away every lesser foundation and reclaim the only one that lasts. The cross still stands in the center of the Christian life—not as a relic, not as a symbol, but as a living declaration of God’s wisdom and power. Paul reminds every believer, every church, every generation: if Christ is not the center, nothing works. But when Christ is the center, everything has a chance to flourish again. This is the heartbeat of the chapter, the call that echoes through time, and the invitation that still reaches every believer who reads these words with an open heart.

––– Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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This year, I didn’t break any records in terms of total number of books read, but I did have fun and learn a few things. Here are some of my favorites reads from this past year.

Fiction

The Mistborn Saga by Brandon Sanderson

Finished:

• Mistborn: The Final Empire
• The Well of Ascension

This was my first Brandon Sanderson series, and I was floored by the depth of the world-building, the complexity of the magic system, and the richness of the characters. My partner and I started the first book together, but lost steam midway through due to the lengthy dialogue and slower pacing. I came back a few weeks later and realized what we were missing. I made it through the first two books this year, and I’m eagerly looking forward to finishing the third soon.

The Dungeon Crawler Carl Series by Matt Dinniman

Finished:

• Dungeon Crawler Carl
• Carl’s Doomsday Scenario
• The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook
• The Gate of the Feral Gods
• The Butcher’s Masquerade
• The Eye of the Bedlam Bride
• This Inevitable Ruin

This was my favorite series of the year! Carl and his girlfriend’s cat, Princess Donut, fight to survive after an alien corporation restructures the Earth’s crust into a multi-level dungeon game show. The writing is creative, engaging, and *hilarious*—I couldn’t put the books down once I started. The next book is scheduled to release in June of 2026.

The Bobiverse Series by Dennis E. Taylor

Finished:

• We Are Legion (We Are Bob)
• For We Are Many
• All These Worlds

This was a fun series. The protagonist, Bob, is resurrected as an artificial intelligence installed in a Von Neumann probe after being cryogenically frozen. The series follows their attempts to save humanity from itself and an unforgiving universe.

James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl

This is one of our bedtime books with the kids.

Witch King by Martha Wells

I loved the Murderbot series, so when I saw this on the shelf at Powell’s I figured I would give it a shot. This novel was interesting. It had a similar structure to Murderbot, but went deeper on lore and the magic system. It was a really fun read, and the toggling between past and present throughout created an exciting pace.

Shroud by Adrian Tchiakowsky

Tchiakowsky is one of my favorite sci-fi authors. This standalone novel follows two humans as they struggle to survive on a pitch-black, inhospitable alien moon called Shroud.

Blindsight by Peter Watts

Another first-contact, hard sci-fi novel that had some really interesting concepts related to identity, consciousness, and neurology.

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

This one needs little introduction, as it’s on its way to becoming a feature film. I listened to it as an audiobook, which is the best way to experience the story, in my opinion. I love the attention to detail and theme of perseverance in Andy’s writing.

Diaspora by Greg Egan

Greg Egan writes some of the most cerebral hard sci-fi I’ve come across. I read Permutation City last year and felt like I needed more. Diaspora didn’t disappoint—it explores the nature of life and intelligence against a backdrop of compelling (fictional) theories in physics and mathematics. It’s hard to summarize the world and story within it. If you’re into post-humanism, consciousness, and exploration of theories of the universe, you’ve gotta check this one out.

Non-Fiction

Boom: Bubbles and the End of Stagnation by Byrne Hobart and Tobias Huber

I was a bit conflicted on this book. On the one hand, it does an excellent job of arguing the dangers of stagnation and the benefits of bubbles with examples and evidence from history. On the other hand, it felt a bit dogmatic and rigid at times. That, for me, is a good signal that this book is worth reading if you want to better understand the current trends in technology and AI in particular. I finished the book with a stronger desire for innovation and creativity than I had going into it.

Notes on Complexity by Neil Theise

An introduction to complexity theory, an examination of how interconnected systems behave and evolve. Neil provides an approachable, research-based perspective on consciousness and the interconnectedness of all things in a small package. This was one of the most intriguing reads of this year and I would recommend it to anyone who’s interested in a theory that joins philosophy, quantum mechanics, physics, and consciousness.

Essentialism by Greg McKeown

Thematically aligned with where I’m at right now, this book provides a framework for doing less while accomplishing more.

The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer

I listened to this as an audiobook and had a hard time with the narrator and the receptiveness of some of the content. I stuck with it though, and found a timeless message of acceptance and self-realization.

Meditations for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman

Similar to Essentialism, this one was a solid contribution toward embracing finitude and focusing on what’s important rather than trying to do it all.

When Mel Gibson first brought The Passion of the Christ to the world in 2004, the film was nothing short of a cultural earthquake — a visceral, immersive cinematic journey that shifted the landscape of faith-based media forever. Audiences of all stripes, believers and skeptics alike, felt its reverberations. At its core was a story anchored in the ultimate sacrifice, and for millions, it became a spiritual touchstone — a film that didn’t just portray the final hours of Jesus but invited viewers into the emotional, physical, and metaphysical gravity of those moments. Now, more than two decades later, Gibson is poised to return to that sacred ground with a new project that seeks not merely to revisit but to re-imagine and expand the biblical epic tradition: The Resurrection of the Christ. The anticipation is profound, and the stakes, both artistic and spiritual, have never been higher.

Long envisioned by its creator and finally underway, The Resurrection of the Christ is the highly anticipated sequel to The Passion of the Christ. It promises not just a continuation of the story but an exploration of the most transformative event in the Christian narrative — the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the foundation of Christian hope and the axis upon which the faith turns. This is no small undertaking. Decades of spiritual conversation, theological reflection, and cinematic contemplation have led to this moment. The project is unique not only for its ambition but for the longevity of its conception: a film born of a belief that cinema can be a vessel for the sacred, capable of touching hearts with truth and beauty, pity and wonder.

Production officially commenced in late 2025 in the storied Cinecittà Studios in Rome, the very soil where Gibson shot the original film nearly 21 years earlier. This return to a familiar creative home mirrors the narrative itself — a return not to death, but to the transformative mystery of resurrection. The story centers on the events immediately following the crucifixion, focusing on the three days between Jesus’s death and His triumphant rising, and the broader cosmic implications of that victory. Gib­son co-wrote the screenplay with longtime collaborator Randall Wallace, whose work on Braveheart and other epics has cemented his reputation as a storyteller who navigates the interplay between grand historical sweep and intimate human emotion.

To many fans of the first film, the resurrection is more than a plot point: it’s the heart of the Gospel, the moment hope defeats despair, light overtakes darkness, and death itself is undone. Yet representing that monumental truth on film — in all its spiritual, emotional, and artistic weight — requires a director with both vision and conviction. Gibson’s approach is not a pious afterthought to the Passion; it’s a cinematic pilgrimage into the very essence of Christian faith. The resurrection event, its witnesses, its political and supernatural ramifications — these are the threads that Gibson seeks to weave into a tapestry as compelling and challenging as his first triumph.

It’s worth noting that the project is not a simple, singular film, but a two-part cinematic event set for release during Holy Week 2027. Part One is scheduled to debut on Good Friday, March 26, 2027, and Part Two will follow on Ascension Day, May 6, 2027 — a release strategy that aligns the films with the liturgical rhythm of the Christian calendar. This is storytelling in symphony with sacred time, echoing centuries of tradition while bringing those sacred rhythms to mass audiences worldwide.

In crafting The Resurrection of the Christ, Gibson has assembled a new ensemble cast that includes Finnish actor Jaakko Ohtonen in the role of Jesus and Mariela Garriga as Mary Magdalene, among other notable performers. The choice to recast the principal roles — including the absence of Jim Caviezel, the actor who so powerfully embodied Jesus in the original — was shaped by both practical and artistic considerations. As production insiders have explained, the chronological progression of the story and the significant age difference between the original cast and the characters they portray made it challenging to rely on digital de-aging alone; selecting a fresh cast allows the narrative to breathe in its own present moment, while honoring the continuity of the sacred story.

For those who experienced The Passion of the Christ as a watershed moment in cinematic faith expression, the news of a new cast also stirred divergent reactions. Some mourned the absence of familiar faces; others embraced the opportunity for a fresh interpretation that honors the story’s transcendence beyond any one actor’s portrayal. Regardless, the shared commitment — between Gibson, his creative team, and the audience — remains the same: to illuminate the spiritual core of the Gospel in ways that are compelling, faithful, and resonant across generations.

A project of this magnitude inevitably raises questions about its thematic approach. How does one visually represent the mystery of resurrection? How does a filmmaker articulate the convergence of heaven and earth, faith and doubt, sorrow and joy? According to interviews with Gibson and Wallace, the script delves far beyond the familiar Easter narrative. It contemplates not only the human response to the empty tomb but the cosmic consequences of Christ’s victory over death. Conversations about the script reflect theological nuance as much as cinematic scope, with elements that explore the unseen realms of angels, the nature of evil, and the hope that transcends even the most crushing loss.

The decision to shoot in Aramaic, Hebrew, and Latin — as the original film did — underscores the commitment to authenticity and immersion. The languages spoken by Jesus and His contemporaries bring texture and gravity to the narrative, situating the story within its historical and cultural context while inviting modern audiences into an unmediated encounter with the text. In an era where much of mainstream cinema prioritizes spectacle over substance, this film’s dedication to linguistic and narrative integrity signals a profound respect for the story and its roots.

At its heart, The Resurrection of the Christ is a story about transformation — not only for the characters who walk its sacred narrative but for the audience who will receive it. The resurrection is the pivot point of Christian theology: the moment when vulnerability is transformed into victory, death into eternal life. Gibson’s cinematic rendering seeks not simply to depict this event, but to invite viewers into its emotional and spiritual resonance. The film aims to be a conduit of reflection, stirring questions about faith, redemption, and the nature of God’s love in a world still shadowed by suffering and longing.

The cultural impact of The Passion of the Christ cannot be overstated. It shattered expectations for faith-based filmmaking and demonstrated that spiritually anchored stories, when told with seriousness and artistic rigor, can achieve both critical attention and global reach. It became a touchstone for believers, a subject of debate among critics, and a benchmark for cinematic courage. Now, The Resurrection of the Christ carries the weight of that legacy, not as a mere continuation but as a culmination of two decades of reflection on how film can embody the sacred.

In the months and years leading up to the release, the conversation around the film has already stirred the imagination of audiences worldwide. Faith communities are abuzz with speculation; theologians ponder its implications; film scholars analyze its potential impact on epic cinema. Even outside the sphere of religious media, there is a palpable curiosity: can a film about the resurrection — a story foundational to Christianity yet universal in its themes of hope and renewal — resonate in a time marked by fragmentation and search for meaning?

For many, the resurrection narrative holds personal and communal significance that transcends cinema. It speaks to the hardships we face, the losses we endure, and the hope we cling to when the night feels longest. Gibson’s vision, enriched by theological depth and cinematic passion, invites audiences to confront these truths not as abstract ideas but as living realities. The Resurrection of the Christ isn’t simply a film; it is a cultural moment — one that dares to articulate the profound mystery of life renewed, of darkness vanquished, and of light unending.

What sets The Resurrection of the Christ apart from nearly any other modern biblical film is that it does not merely aim to retell events but to reawaken spiritual imagination. In many Christian traditions, the resurrection is taught, preached, and celebrated every year, yet rarely does it receive the cinematic depth it deserves. The crucifixion is visceral, visual, and tangible. The resurrection, however, is transcendent — a moment that breaks natural law, overturns every earthly assumption, and rewrites the destiny of humanity. It is difficult to depict because it is too large to fit neatly into our categories. How does one portray victory over death without diminishing its wonder? How does one illustrate divine glory without reducing it to spectacle?

This is the creative tension Mel Gibson now walks into — and perhaps this is why the world is waiting. His gift as a director lies in his ability to treat sacred history with emotional authenticity and narrative daring. He pushes into uncomfortable spaces, into the rawness of pain, the depth of hope, and the unresolved questions that linger between the lines of Scripture. If The Passion of the Christ was an unflinching confrontation with suffering, The Resurrection of the Christ seeks to be an equally unflinching confrontation with glory.

One of the most intriguing elements reported about the screenplay is its exploration of the so-called “Harrowing of Hell,” a theological tradition that describes Christ descending to the realm of the dead between His crucifixion and resurrection. Though not explicitly detailed in the canonical Gospels, the concept echoes through early Christian writings, apocryphal texts, and centuries of liturgical tradition. Artists from antiquity to medieval Europe to modern iconographers have attempted to capture this mystery, often depicting Christ breaking down the gates of Hades, raising Adam and Eve, and liberating the righteous who awaited redemption. If Gibson chooses to incorporate even a fraction of this imagery, it could become one of the most visually and theologically rich sequences ever attempted in faith-based cinema.

Yet the film is not solely concerned with cosmic events. It also focuses deeply on the human experience of resurrection — what it felt like for the disciples, for Mary Magdalene, for the early followers who had pinned their entire world on a Messiah who suddenly died before their eyes. The emotional shock of Good Friday is often overshadowed by the triumph of Easter, but the disciples lived through the silence of Saturday — the unanswered questions, the fear, the grief, the confusion. The early church’s earliest witnesses were not triumphant theologians but broken, bewildered people trying to understand an impossible moment.

A director with less sensitivity might rush past that grief to arrive at the glory, but Gibson’s prior work suggests he will linger in those moments — the shadows before the dawn, the desperate prayers before the miracle. These quiet, aching scenes may become the emotional core of the film, offering viewers not only a story of resurrection but an invitation to remember the seasons of their own lives when they were waiting for God to move, when hope seemed delayed, when every prayer felt unanswered. The disciples’ confusion, their tears, their fear — these are universal experiences. The resurrection, then, becomes not a distant historical claim but a deeply human encounter with impossible grace.

This is also why Mary Magdalene’s role in the film is so critical. In the Gospels, she is the first witness to the risen Christ, a woman whose devotion, courage, and presence at the cross set her apart from many who fled. Her inclusion provides a grounding perspective — not theological discourse, not political analysis, but pure human devotion responding to divine revelation. Casting Mariela Garriga in this role signals an intention to elevate Mary’s emotional journey, giving the audience a lens of both love and loss, faith and bewilderment, devotion and revelation. Mary Magdalene’s story touches believers because she embodies transformation — a life once broken, now restored; a person bound by sorrow until Christ calls her by name. If portrayed with depth, her encounter with the risen Jesus may become one of the most powerful sequences in the entire film.

Beyond the emotional resonance, The Resurrection of the Christ also arrives at a time when the world is desperately searching for meaning. Audiences today face cultural division, social exhaustion, and spiritual yearning unlike anything we have seen in decades. Many feel disconnected from the sacred, yet deeply hungry for transcendence. For millions, faith has become a quiet ache — something felt more than spoken, something longed for but rarely encountered in public spaces. Cinema, however, has always held the power to open doors into deeper contemplation. A story as monumental as the resurrection could be exactly the kind of cultural moment people need — not a sermon, not an argument, but an experience.

This is one of the reasons Gibson’s return to biblical storytelling matters. He is not just revisiting an old film; he is revisiting a global moment. The Passion of the Christ sparked discussions across denominations, cultures, and nations. It revived interest in biblical narratives, inspired renewed spiritual curiosity, and challenged filmmakers to take sacred stories seriously. The sequel has the potential to do the same — but on an even larger scale. Today’s world is more interconnected, more digitally amplified, and more spiritually restless than it was in 2004. A film that boldly explores the resurrection may land with even greater force.

From a purely cinematic standpoint, this project pushes boundaries. Filming at Cinecittà Studios allows for the scale, craftsmanship, and authenticity needed for such a sweeping narrative. Set construction, costume work, practical effects, and linguistic accuracy all combine to create a fully immersive world. This is not a stylized re-imagining or a modern interpretation; it is a return to historical immediacy. Audiences don’t simply watch the story — they enter it.

Gibson’s insistence on using ancient languages again reinforces this immersion. Aramaic, Hebrew, and Latin carry emotional resonance that English cannot replicate. They remind the audience that these were real people in a real historical moment, not symbolic characters in a sanitized adaptation. The languages create texture, weight, rhythm — a living connection to the world Jesus walked in. When paired with the visual realism Gibson is known for, the result is a film that aims to transcend mere storytelling and touch the viewer at a deeper level.

Yet even with all the cinematic ambition, the spiritual dimension is where this project will either rise or fall. The resurrection is not simply an event to be portrayed; it is a revelation to be experienced. How do you capture the divine? How do you depict glory so overwhelming that it can barely be spoken, let alone shown? Gibson seems to understand that the answer lies not in spectacle but in truthfulness — in rendering the moment with humility, reverence, and artistic courage.

That is why the world is watching. That is why believers are praying. That is why critics are curious. And it is why this film could become one of the most impactful pieces of faith-based cinema in history.

But the significance of the resurrection reaches far beyond the film itself. It is the hinge point of Christian identity — the assurance that darkness never has the final word, that death’s victory is temporary, and that hope is stronger than despair. Every generation needs to rediscover that truth in its own way. If Gibson’s film succeeds, it may help millions reconnect with a story that has shaped human history for two thousand years.

Imagine the possibilities. A young adult searching for meaning encounters the resurrection on screen and begins asking new questions. A weary believer rekindles hope. A skeptic sees beauty where they expected indoctrination. A family gathers after the film and has a conversation they haven’t had in years. Faith is not forced — it is awakened.

That is the power of a story well told.

And perhaps that is why this film resonates so deeply with those following the project. It is not just a sequel; it is an opportunity for spiritual renewal. It is a chance to see, with fresh eyes, the moment that changed everything — not just for the disciples, not just for the early church, but for every person who has ever wondered whether God sees them, whether hope is real, whether redemption is possible.

The resurrection is the answer to all of those questions.

And now, for the first time on this scale in decades, that answer is coming to the big screen.

As the world approaches Holy Week 2027, audiences will gather in theaters across nations, not merely to watch a film, but to step into a story that has carried humanity through its darkest nights and lifted it into its brightest dawns. They will witness sorrow giving way to joy, fear giving way to faith, death giving way to life. They will walk with Mary to the empty tomb. They will feel the shock of the disciples’ disbelief. They will see the risen Christ step into the world with a glory no grave could contain.

And perhaps — just perhaps — they will remember that resurrection is not just an ancient miracle, but a present invitation.

Because the story of Jesus rising from the dead is not simply a story about Him.

It is a story about us.

Our losses. Our unanswered prayers. Our broken pieces. Our long nights. Our quiet hopes. Our longing for redemption.

Gibson’s film may ignite global conversation, stir debate, and draw millions into theaters, but beneath all of that, the true impact will be something deeper, quieter, and far more eternal: an awakening in the hearts of people who are tired of living in Saturday and are longing for their own Sunday morning.

If this film accomplishes even a fraction of what it aims for, it will not merely be watched.

It will be felt.

It will be remembered.

And for many, it will be transformative.

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** Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph **

#faith #Jesus #Resurrection #ChristianInspiration #Hope #MelGibson #ChristianMovies #SpiritualGrowth #Encouragement #BiblicalTruth

I've been watching a few Apple TV shows over the past weeks and a doubt has been troubling me, is there a clause in the contract of these shows that Apple devices should be a prominent plot point? I cannot unsee the amount of subtle Apple advertising I've seen in The Morning Show and Slow Horses and something tells me it's not intentional, considering that no other brands in the show have this kind of prominence, if at all.

In the The Morning Show for instance, almost every character of them working close on an Apple device, with hard zoom-ins into the devices, sometimes even showing off their funmoji stuff, which I don't think is accidental. Imagine being a company so big that you can pump billions into producing content that serves as subliminal advertising for the very product that makes your billions. I love this stage of capitalism, but a part of me worries about the kind of stories and narratives we lose in the process.

I am keeping my eyes open to see if I find this to be a recurring pattern across the Apple TV content slate, and keep your eyes open too.

#AppleTV #advertising