I’ve been out getting some sunshine on me, but not much.

The solar flare of the Tuesday was obscured by heavy snow laden clouds.

I’ve feeling similar to the aforementioned weather: a headache, some allergic itch deep inside the nose, nearer to the brain than to the nostril. At nights I’ve been woken up by this itch, or weird bizarre unsettling dreams which I immediately forget upon waking, but which still fill me with a vague unease.

And I’ve been feeling conflicted, but where is my anger? — It too is covered by a big, gray cloud.

If only this metaphorical cloud of mine could release its rain somehow.

But I’ve done yoga. Fortunately I had my toe nails clipped. This was a stroke of luck. Nay, a good omen! Because it had slipped my mind that you do this barefoot. I will give yoga one hundred tries before I decide whether to continue.

If I could find inner peace, it would be welcome.

Maybe the case is, is that I need less peace and more war, like the warrior pose, the something warrior.

It’s like this grey cloud is inside of my brain, you know? That’s where the itch comes from.

That must be the case.

Finally: the little black dog woke me up each morning by excitedly biting my nose. He’s such a great friend.

It’s the humours which have been unbalanced! Too much black bile, I’m sure of it!

Or nay maybe too little?

I get it. You don’t like him.

but here’s my dilemma also. He has a trap that needs to know how to remain quiet but his financial policies are bar none the best the world has ever seen.

all data points to supporting this.

Also, why should I support abortion? I don’t believe in condoning abortion but rather, I believe in personal responsibility.

don’t have a baby in the first place.

simple concept.

folks have told me:

“You should listen and talk'

talk about what?

I don’t support abortion.

So the discussion doesnt need to happen.

why must I pay for the poor judgment of others?

Personal responsibility should taught in all schools, we would be way more prosperous.

#trump #abortion

Hva er det med Senterpartiet og Trump, egentlig? Først får vi vite at det finnes et voksende Trump-vennlig miljø internt i Senterungdommen. Så står Trygve Slagsvold Vedum på Debatten tirsdag med full overtenning og argumenterer for at det er meningsløst for Danmark og Norge å forsøke å avskrekke amerikansk militær aggresjon. Så toppes det i dag med at tidligere Senterparti-statsråd og mangeårig nestleder Ola Borten Moe står på Debatten og argumenterer for at Grønland ikke fortjener selvråderett.

Borten Moe trakk fram lav levestandard på Grønland. Er dette et argument mot selvstyre? Han argumenterte for at Grønland er stort og ligger strategisk til for USAs og Europas del. Jaha, det gjør jo Norge også. Ifølge Borten Moe er det “for vidtrekkende” at 57 000 grønlendere skal bestemme over så mye land. Men hvor leder denne argumentasjonen? Man kan vel like gjerne si at det er for vidtrekkende at bare 5,6 millioner nordmenn skal få bestemme over de enorme land- og havområder vi har?

I realiteten serverer Borten Moe en argumentasjon som nærmest er skreddersydd for enhver som vil utfordre norsk suverenitet i Arktis. Her er det bare for Putin og Trump å ta notat. Dette gjør han på statskanalen i beste sendetid, midt i en internasjonal krise sentrert rundt Norge, Danmark og Arktis. Borten Moe var nøye på å bare si A, men aldri B. Men argumentene pekte bare i én retning: Danmark har vanskjøttet Grønland, grønlenderne er ikke berettiget til å bestemme over Grønlands skjebne, altså...

At dette kommer fra en tidligere så sentral norsk politiker som Borten Moe er sjokkerende nok. Men at det skal komme fra en mann som tilhører partiet som pleier å snakke høyest om “nasjonal selvråderett” og være mest mot utenlandsk overstyring, er direkte absurd. En norsk nasjonalisme som ikke er forankret i Folkeretten er en selvmotsigelse.

Mark 5 is one of those chapters that does not allow distance. You cannot stand back from it and observe politely. It pulls you in, places you on the shoreline, pushes you into the crowd, and forces you to look directly at suffering that has gone on far too long. This chapter is not tidy. It is loud, interrupted, desperate, and deeply human. It is also one of the clearest pictures we have of what happens when Jesus steps into places everyone else avoids and into lives everyone else has given up on. When you sit with Mark 5 long enough, you realize it is not merely a record of miracles. It is a revelation of how God responds to brokenness when it has reached the point of despair.

The chapter opens not with calm teaching or moral instruction, but with chaos. Jesus steps onto foreign soil, into the region of the Gadarenes, a place already heavy with spiritual tension. This matters more than we often notice. Jesus intentionally crosses boundaries here. He leaves familiar Jewish territory and enters Gentile land. He steps into a space that religious people would have avoided, and the very first thing that meets Him is not hospitality, but a man so tormented that he lives among the tombs. Mark is deliberate in his language. This man is not simply troubled. He is isolated, feared, uncontrollable, and considered beyond help. Chains have failed. Restraints have failed. Society has given up. If there were ever a human being written off as unreachable, this is him.

What is striking is not just the man’s condition, but Jesus’ response. There is no hesitation. No fear. No retreat. Jesus does not ask for backup. He does not consult the disciples. He does not weigh whether this encounter is worth the risk. He simply stands his ground. The man runs toward Him, but not in worship. This is not reverence. This is collision. The spiritual conflict that erupts is immediate and violent, but Jesus is not intimidated. The demons recognize Him instantly, even when the people around Him often do not. That alone should stop us. The spiritual realm sees clearly what the religious crowds frequently miss. Jesus is not just a healer. He is authority itself.

The exchange that follows is unsettling. The demons beg. They plead. They negotiate. There is a strange reversal here. The man who has lived in torment now stands silent while the demons speak. For years, this man has been the one crying out day and night. Now the voices that controlled him are exposed, desperate, and afraid. Jesus does not argue with them. He does not debate theology. He simply commands. Power does not need explanation. It speaks, and things move.

When the demons enter the herd of swine and rush into the sea, it shocks the entire region. Not just because of the supernatural element, but because of the cost. A large herd of pigs is lost. This miracle is not economically convenient. It disrupts livelihoods. It creates fear. And this is where the reaction of the people becomes revealing. They do not rejoice that a man has been restored. They do not celebrate freedom. They beg Jesus to leave. That should unsettle us more than it often does. When deliverance threatens comfort, people will choose comfort. When freedom disrupts systems, systems push back. This is not ancient behavior. It is human behavior.

The healed man, now clothed and in his right mind, wants to follow Jesus. For the first time, he wants connection, purpose, direction. But Jesus does something unexpected. He sends him home. He tells him to go back to his people and tell them what the Lord has done for him. This is one of the earliest commissions in the Gospel of Mark, and it is given not to a trained disciple, but to a man who had been living among tombs. Grace does not wait for polish. Testimony does not require credentials. When God frees you, He also entrusts you.

As Jesus returns across the sea, the pace of the chapter does not slow. Immediately, another crisis emerges. Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, approaches Him. This is significant. Jairus represents religious authority, structure, respectability. Unlike the man among the tombs, Jairus is respected, known, and established. And yet he falls at Jesus’ feet. Desperation equalizes us. Titles disappear when your child is dying. Pride dissolves when you run out of answers. Jairus does not come with an argument. He comes with urgency. My little daughter lies at the point of death. Please come.

Jesus agrees, and the crowd surges around Him. This is where Mark weaves in one of the most beautiful interruptions in all of Scripture. On the way to a dying child, Jesus stops for a woman who has been bleeding for twelve years. Twelve years. That detail is not accidental. She has lived in physical suffering, social isolation, and religious exclusion for over a decade. Under the law, she would have been considered unclean. She would have been avoided, judged, and likely blamed for her condition. She has spent everything she has on doctors and grown worse. If you have ever exhausted every option and still found yourself stuck, you understand her story.

She does not approach Jesus openly. She does not ask for attention. She reaches for the hem of His garment, believing that even contact with Him is enough. This is not loud faith. It is quiet, trembling, almost invisible faith. And yet Jesus stops. Power has gone out from Him, and He knows it. The disciples are confused. The crowd is pressing in. Why stop now? Why ask who touched you? Because Jesus is not just interested in healing bodies. He is interested in restoring people.

When the woman comes forward in fear and trembling, Jesus does not rebuke her. He does not expose her to shame. He calls her daughter. That word matters. In one moment, He restores her health, her dignity, her identity, and her place in community. Faith has made her whole, not just physically healed. Wholeness is deeper than relief. It is restoration at every level.

While this is happening, the worst news arrives. Jairus’ daughter has died. The delay has cost him everything, at least from a human perspective. The messengers tell him not to trouble the Teacher anymore. That sentence carries so much weight. Do not bother Him. It is too late. Hope has an expiration date, according to human logic. But Jesus immediately speaks to Jairus. Be not afraid, only believe. Those words are not sentimental. They are a command issued in the face of grief.

When Jesus arrives at the house, the scene is familiar to anyone who has walked through loss. Mourning, weeping, noise, despair. Jesus does something that seems almost offensive. He says the child is not dead, but sleeping. They laugh at Him. There is a cruel honesty in that response. Grief often mocks hope because hope feels dangerous when you have already been hurt. Jesus sends everyone out except the parents and a few disciples. Resurrection moments are often private before they are public.

He takes the child by the hand and speaks to her. Little girl, I say unto thee, arise. Death listens. Life responds. She gets up and walks. The chapter that began in a graveyard ends in a bedroom where death has been overturned. Jesus tells them to give her something to eat. That detail is tender. Restoration is not just miraculous; it is practical. Life continues.

When you step back and look at Mark 5 as a whole, a pattern emerges. Jesus moves toward what others avoid. He touches what others fear. He stops for those who have been invisible. He delays when urgency screams, and He arrives when hope seems gone. This chapter dismantles the idea that faith must look a certain way or come from a certain type of person. The demonized man, the bleeding woman, the religious leader, and a dead child all meet the same Jesus. And He meets each of them exactly where they are.

Mark 5 also exposes something uncomfortable about us. Sometimes we are the ones begging Jesus to leave because His presence disrupts our sense of control. Sometimes we are the crowd pressing in, close enough to touch but not close enough to be changed. Sometimes we are Jairus, trying to believe while watching hope slip away. And sometimes we are the woman, reaching out quietly, unsure if we are even allowed to ask.

This chapter does not present Jesus as safe. It presents Him as good. Safe would mean predictable. Jesus is not predictable. He is purposeful. He is not rushed by urgency or delayed by fear. He moves according to compassion, not convenience. That truth alone should reshape how we pray and how we wait.

Mark 5 invites us to reconsider the places we think God avoids. The tombs, the crowds, the interruptions, the delays, the rooms filled with grief. Jesus is not repelled by these spaces. He steps into them. He speaks into them. He restores life within them. And He does not merely fix problems. He restores people.

As we continue walking through this chapter, there is still more to uncover about fear, faith, authority, and restoration. Mark does not rush us past these moments, and neither should we. Because somewhere in this chapter, every one of us will recognize ourselves. And when we do, we are confronted with the same question that echoes through every miracle story. What will you do when Jesus steps into the place you thought was beyond hope?

Now we will continue this reflection, going deeper into the spiritual implications, the hidden connections between these stories, and what Mark 5 reveals about living faith when God’s timing does not match our expectations.

One of the quiet truths running beneath Mark 5 is that every miracle in this chapter forces a confrontation with fear. Fear of the uncontrollable. Fear of contamination. Fear of loss. Fear of disappointment. Fear of change. Fear is not just present in the demonized man or the bleeding woman or Jairus; fear pulses through the crowd, the disciples, the villagers, and even the mourners. Mark does not portray fear as weakness alone. He portrays it as a crossroads. Fear becomes the moment where a person either leans into Jesus or pulls away from Him.

The people of the Gadarenes respond to fear by asking Jesus to leave. They see the healed man, sitting peacefully, and instead of awe they feel unease. The miracle costs them something tangible, and fear translates into rejection. This response reveals how easily we can value stability over transformation. A controlled problem can feel safer than a disruptive solution. Jesus threatens the status quo simply by being present. He exposes what has been tolerated, normalized, or quietly accepted as unchangeable. When fear is left unchecked, it prefers familiarity over freedom.

The healed man’s response stands in stark contrast. He does not cling to the old life, even though it is all he has known. He wants to follow Jesus immediately. His fear has been replaced with clarity. Yet Jesus sends him back, not away, but into purpose. This moment reveals something essential about discipleship. Following Jesus is not always about physical proximity. Sometimes it is about faithful witness where you are planted. The man is sent back into the very region that feared him, not as a threat, but as living evidence of mercy. His testimony becomes an invitation. Mark tells us that people marveled. That is how transformation spreads, not through arguments, but through undeniable change.

Fear also shows up in the story of the bleeding woman, but her fear is layered. It is not only fear of illness, but fear of rejection, exposure, and shame. She knows the rules. She knows what she is risking by entering the crowd. She knows that touching Jesus could lead to public rebuke. And yet her fear does not stop her. It moves her. This is an important distinction. Fear does not disappear when faith appears. Faith often moves through fear. Courage is not the absence of fear; it is obedience in the presence of it.

Jesus’ insistence on identifying her publicly is not about humiliation. It is about restoration. For twelve years, her condition has isolated her. Healing her quietly would leave her socially invisible. By calling her forward and naming her daughter, Jesus restores her publicly. He gives her back her voice, her place, her identity. The crowd that once pressed against her without knowing her pain now hears her story. Jesus does not rush past wounded people even when important work lies ahead. That truth challenges how we measure urgency. We often believe love must be efficient. Jesus shows us that love is attentive.

The interruption of Jairus’ request is one of the most emotionally difficult moments in the chapter. From Jairus’ perspective, this delay feels unbearable. Every second matters when a child is dying. Watching Jesus stop must have felt like watching hope slip away. This tension exposes a struggle many people carry quietly. What do you do when God answers someone else’s prayer while yours seems unanswered? What happens to faith when obedience does not produce immediate relief? Jairus is forced to stand in that tension, and when the news arrives that his daughter is dead, fear reaches its peak.

Jesus’ words to Jairus are simple but devastatingly demanding. Be not afraid, only believe. He does not explain Himself. He does not soften the moment. He invites Jairus into trust beyond understanding. This is one of the hardest forms of faith, the kind that believes after the worst has happened. Many people can believe for healing. Fewer can believe for resurrection. Jesus is asking Jairus to trust Him not just as a healer, but as Lord over death itself.

The scene at Jairus’ house reveals another dimension of fear. The professional mourners represent certainty. They know how death works. They know when hope is gone. When Jesus says the child is only sleeping, they laugh. Mockery often disguises fear. Hope threatens finality, and finality feels safer than uncertainty. Jesus removes the mockers from the room. Not everyone is permitted into sacred moments. Some environments must be protected for faith to breathe.

The resurrection itself is quiet. No spectacle. No crowd. Just a hand, a word, and life returning. This restraint is intentional. Mark wants us to understand that God’s greatest work often happens away from public affirmation. The command to give the girl something to eat grounds the miracle in everyday life. Resurrection does not remove us from ordinary rhythms. It restores us to them.

Taken together, these stories reveal that Mark 5 is not primarily about power displays. It is about authority exercised through compassion. Jesus does not dominate people; He liberates them. He does not perform miracles for attention; He restores dignity. He does not avoid suffering; He enters it. This chapter dismantles the idea that God’s presence depends on ideal conditions. Jesus is present in chaos, interruption, delay, and grief.

There is also a quiet symmetry in the chapter that is easy to miss. The demonized man and the bleeding woman both live on the margins. One is isolated because of spiritual torment, the other because of physical impurity. Both are considered unclean. Both approach Jesus differently, yet both are restored completely. Jairus represents the center of society, yet he is just as dependent on Jesus as they are. Mark is leveling the field. No one is closer to God by status. No one is farther from Him by condition. Desperation becomes the common ground.

Another overlooked detail is the role of touch. The demonized man is untouchable by society, yet Jesus speaks directly to the forces controlling him. The bleeding woman touches Jesus secretly, and He receives it willingly. Jesus takes the dead girl by the hand. Touch in Mark 5 is not incidental. It is relational. Jesus bridges distance not just spiritually, but physically. He enters embodied suffering. This matters because faith is not abstract. It is lived, felt, and experienced in real bodies, real moments, real pain.

Mark 5 also challenges how we understand delay. The delay that feels devastating to Jairus becomes the setting for one of the most tender revelations of Jesus’ compassion. The delay that seems unnecessary becomes the space where faith is stretched beyond expectation. God’s timing is not indifferent, but it is often inscrutable. Mark does not offer an explanation. He offers a person. Trust is placed not in understanding events, but in knowing Jesus.

As readers, we are invited to locate ourselves honestly within the chapter. Are we asking Jesus to leave because His presence threatens our comfort? Are we pressing close to Him without truly reaching for Him? Are we quietly hoping that even a small touch might be enough? Are we standing at the edge of despair, being asked to believe after the worst news arrives? Mark 5 does not shame these questions. It dignifies them by showing us that Jesus meets people in every one of these postures.

This chapter also reminds us that Jesus’ authority is not diminished by distance, delay, or death. Geography does not limit Him. Time does not pressure Him. Death does not stop Him. That truth reshapes how we view hopeless situations. Mark 5 insists that no situation is too far gone for God to enter. It does not promise that outcomes will always match our expectations, but it reveals that God is always present and purposeful.

In the end, Mark 5 leaves us with an image of Jesus moving steadily through broken landscapes, unhurried, unafraid, deeply attentive. He crosses seas, confronts darkness, honors hidden faith, and calls life back from death. This is not a detached Savior. This is a present one. And the invitation of Mark 5 is not simply to admire these stories, but to trust the same Jesus with the places in our lives that still feel chained, bleeding, delayed, or dead.

The chapter ends quietly, but its implications echo loudly. If Jesus truly has authority over chaos, sickness, time, and death, then faith becomes less about controlling outcomes and more about surrendering to presence. Mark 5 calls us not to perfect belief, but to honest trust. Not to fearless living, but to faithful courage. And in doing so, it reminds us that when Jesus steps into our story, no place remains untouched by the possibility of restoration.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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Une mise à jour apparemment anodine des conditions d'utilisation d'eBay a révélé une transformation en cours dans le monde du commerce en ligne. Repérée par Value Added Resource, cette modification interdit explicitement aux agents tiers de type « buy for me » et aux chatbots pilotés par l'intelligence artificielle d'interagir avec la plateforme sans autorisation préalable. Si, à première vue, une simple ligne ajoutée aux conditions générales peut sembler triviale, elle signale en réalité l'émergence rapide et perturbatrice de ce que les experts appellent désormais le commerce agentique.

Ce nouveau terme désigne une catégorie d'outils d'IA conçus non seulement pour discuter, mais pour naviguer, comparer et effectuer des achats à notre place. eBay a décidé de prendre les devants face à cette tendance. Les nouvelles conditions, qui entreront en vigueur le 20 février prochain, sont sans équivoque. Elles interdisent spécifiquement aux utilisateurs d'employer des agents d'achat, des bots pilotés par de grands modèles de langage ou tout flux de bout en bout tentant de passer des commandes sans validation humaine. Auparavant, l'accord interdisait de manière générale les robots et le scraping de données, mais ne mentionnait jamais spécifiquement l'IA générative ou les LLM.

L'expression « commerce agentique » pourrait ressembler à un jargon marketing futuriste, mais la réalité est que ces outils sont déjà opérationnels et adoptés par le grand public. Bien que regroupés sous une même étiquette, ils prennent des formes variées. OpenAI a été l'un des premiers à ouvrir la voie en ajoutant des fonctionnalités d'achat à ChatGPT Search en avril 2025, permettant de parcourir des recommandations de produits. Dès septembre, l'entreprise lançait l'Instant Checkout, permettant d'acheter des articles de vendeurs Etsy et Shopify directement dans l'interface de chat.

La concurrence s'intensifie également ailleurs. Perplexity propose désormais « Buy with Pro », une fonctionnalité de paiement en un clic pour ses abonnés payants. De son côté, Google a récemment dévoilé son Universal Commerce Protocol, un standard ouvert destiné à faciliter les interactions entre les agents d'IA et les détaillants. Même Amazon s'y met avec sa propre fonction « Buy For Me », utilisant l'IA pour acheter des articles sur des sites de marques externes via l'application maison. Face à cette prolifération, eBay tente de reprendre le contrôle de son écosystème.

Cette mise à jour politique fait suite à des changements techniques plus discrets opérés en décembre sur leur fichier « robots.txt ». Ce dernier indique aux bots quels contenus ils peuvent ou ne peuvent pas explorer. eBay y a ajouté une nouvelle politique interdisant le scraping automatisé et les agents d'achat, bloquant explicitement les bots de Perplexity, Anthropic et Amazon, tout en laissant un accès au bot de Google. Les restrictions du fichier robots.txt reposent toutefois essentiellement sur un système d'honneur. En inscrivant ces interdictions directement dans ses conditions d'utilisation, la plateforme se dote d'un levier juridique pour poursuivre les contrevenants.

Mais cette position défensive ne signifie pas que le site d’e-commerce rejette l'IA. Au contraire, il souhaite simplement rester maître du jeu. Son PDG Jamie Iannone a confirmé lors d'une conférence sur les résultats en octobre qu'eBay testait ses propres expériences agentiques. De plus, les nouvelles règles laissent la porte ouverte aux bots disposant d’une autorisation expresse préalable. Cette clause stratégique suggère que la plateforme ne cherche pas à tuer le commerce par IA, mais plutôt à le canaliser vers des partenariats officiels et contrôlés, potentiellement même avec des acteurs comme OpenAI.

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

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

The World was designed for no-one Then I found grace by a waterfall It happened all along More details than days in anger Hopeless as before, which was little And betting on emergency not A thrush threw a key And I inked a forever thanks, Fed to our wisdom And in this last, forever Cowardice without poem Or proper, with proof Here is the edifice The fighting example A place for sinners to re-appear, and shine as men Thirteen things proper And a Lusitanian pass Stairways for Winter And stars to be outstanding Then Heaven in between- That’s what the shape was for- An edict of the galaxy and of Rome Prices for our favour And mutiny for all To become a better pavement For our siblings to roll onto Exciting others With their way No matter what Story told And I am sure.

There comes a moment in nearly every life when the noise fades and all that’s left is silence. Not peaceful silence, not restful quiet, but that heavy stillness that settles in when you’ve done everything you know how to do and nothing seems to change. You’ve prayed the prayers. You’ve waited longer than feels reasonable. You’ve believed when believing felt like work. And somewhere deep inside, a question begins to form, not out of rebellion but out of exhaustion: Is anything still happening? This is the place where many people give up—not because they stopped believing in God, but because they stopped believing God was still involved in their story. And yet, this is often the very place where God is doing His deepest work.

We are taught, subtly and constantly, to associate movement with progress. If something is changing quickly, we assume it is alive. If it’s slow, we assume it’s failing. But Scripture paints a very different picture. Over and over again, the most important movements of God happen quietly, invisibly, and without warning. The soil doesn’t look active while the seed is taking root. The tomb didn’t look hopeful while resurrection was being prepared. Silence, in God’s economy, is not absence. It is intention.

There is a dangerous lie that creeps in during these seasons, one that sounds logical and feels convincing: If God were going to act, He would have done it by now. That lie has ended more callings, more marriages, more faith journeys than any loud rebellion ever could. It convinces good people to walk away not because they stopped loving God, but because they concluded the wait itself was proof of abandonment. But delay is not abandonment. Waiting is not rejection. Silence is not evidence that God has forgotten your name.

In fact, Scripture repeatedly shows us that when God is about to accelerate something, He often slows everything else down first. Joseph did not rise steadily. His life did not follow an upward trend. It dropped sharply, unjustly, and repeatedly. Betrayal. Slavery. False accusation. Prison. Silence. Years passed with no visible sign that God was honoring the dreams He Himself had given Joseph. And yet, the Bible does not say God returned to Joseph after the prison. It says the Lord was with him in the prison. God was present in the stillness, shaping a leader who could carry authority without being destroyed by it.

This is what most people misunderstand about faith. Faith is not proved by what you say when everything is moving forward. Faith is revealed by how you stand when nothing is happening. When the phone doesn’t ring. When the doctor doesn’t call back. When the door remains closed. When the promise feels distant and the waiting feels personal. Faith, in those moments, is not loud confidence. It is quiet endurance. It is choosing not to interpret delay as defeat.

There are seasons when God does not change your circumstances because He is changing you. Not to punish you, not to withhold good from you, but to prepare you to survive what you’re asking for. Blessings have weight. Callings have cost. Open doors require internal strength to walk through them without losing yourself on the other side. God cares far more about who you become than how fast you arrive.

This is why Scripture speaks so often about endurance. Endurance is not glamorous. It doesn’t make headlines. It doesn’t feel powerful. But it is one of the most spiritually potent postures a believer can hold. Endurance says, I will not move just because I’m uncomfortable. It says, I will not quit just because the process is slow. It says, I trust God’s character even when I cannot trace His actions.

The world celebrates speed. God develops depth. The world rewards visibility. God honors faithfulness. And the two timelines rarely align. We want clarity; God often offers trust. We want explanation; God offers presence. We want reassurance; God offers Himself.

There are moments in life when everything feels like it has dropped to zero. Your energy. Your hope. Your confidence. Your sense of direction. But zero, biblically speaking, is not a dead place. It is a starting place. Creation began at zero. Resurrection began at zero. Gideon’s army was reduced to nearly zero before God moved. Elijah thought he was down to zero prophets before God spoke again. Again and again, God allows His people to reach the end of their own capacity so that what happens next cannot be mistaken for human effort.

This is why discouragement is so dangerous. Not because it hurts, but because it lies. Discouragement tells you that where you are is where you will remain. It tells you that the stillness is permanent. It tells you that God’s silence is a verdict. But discouragement is not prophetic. It is emotional. And emotions, while real, are not reliable narrators of truth.

Faith, on the other hand, does not deny reality. It simply refuses to let reality have the final word. Faith acknowledges the pain without surrendering the promise. Faith admits the waiting is hard without concluding it is pointless. Faith holds space for grief and hope at the same time.

There is a reason Scripture repeatedly describes God as the One who works “suddenly.” Not because He is impulsive, but because His preparation often happens out of sight. The suddenness is not the beginning of the work. It is the unveiling of work long underway. When God moves quickly, it is because He has been moving quietly for a long time.

Think about how many biblical breakthroughs arrived without warning. Prison doors opened at midnight. Seas parted at the moment of pursuit. Tombs emptied after days of silence. Promotions happened after years of obscurity. Healing occurred after prolonged suffering. God rarely announces His timing in advance. He simply acts when the moment is full.

This is why giving up just before breakthrough is such a tragedy. Not because the person lacked faith at the start, but because they abandoned it at the moment it was about to be rewarded. Galatians reminds us that the harvest comes “in due season, if we do not give up.” The harvest is promised. The condition is endurance.

What makes waiting so difficult is not the passage of time. It is the absence of feedback. We can endure almost anything if we know it is working. But waiting on God often feels like sowing seeds into soil that offers no visible confirmation. This is where trust becomes relational rather than transactional. You are no longer trusting outcomes. You are trusting the One who holds them.

There are moments when God intentionally removes visible signs so that your faith rests on Him alone. When everything else is stripped away—plans, timelines, expectations—you are left with a choice: interpret the silence as abandonment, or interpret it as intimacy. Because silence is where deep trust is built. Silence is where reliance shifts from performance to relationship.

You are not weak for feeling weary. You are human. Even Elijah, after fire fell from heaven, collapsed under the weight of exhaustion and despair. Even David cried out asking how long. Even Jesus wept in the garden asking if there was another way. Faith does not eliminate struggle. It gives struggle meaning.

If you are tired today, that does not mean you are failing. It may mean you are closer than you realize. Fatigue often precedes fulfillment. Weariness often marks the final stretch. And silence often signals that something sacred is forming beneath the surface.

Do not confuse the absence of visible progress with the absence of divine activity. God is not idle. He is intentional. He is not slow. He is precise. And He is not finished.

This moment you are in—the one that feels still, heavy, unresolved—is not the end of your story. It is a chapter where trust is being refined, where faith is being deepened, where roots are being grown that will support what is coming next. What you are waiting for has not been canceled. It has been prepared.

So hold on. Not because it’s easy. Not because you feel strong. But because God’s character has not changed, His promises have not expired, and His timing has never failed. When everything is quiet, God is still moving.

And when He moves, it will be clear that the silence was never empty at all.

There is a sacred tension that exists in the life of faith, and it is this: learning how to live fully present while still waiting for God to act. Most people think faith is about certainty, but in reality, faith is about remaining when certainty is absent. It is about staying rooted when answers are delayed, staying obedient when outcomes are unclear, and staying surrendered when control has been stripped away. This kind of faith does not grow in noise. It grows in quiet places, where trust is no longer supported by momentum and belief is no longer reinforced by visible progress.

Waiting exposes what we truly believe about God. Not what we say in public or affirm in prayer, but what we believe in the private hours when nothing changes. If we believe God is good only when life improves, our faith will always be fragile. But if we believe God is good because of who He is, regardless of circumstances, our faith becomes unshakable. This is the kind of faith Scripture consistently points us toward—a faith anchored not in outcomes, but in relationship.

One of the most difficult spiritual truths to accept is that God does not rush to relieve discomfort. He could. He has the power to intervene instantly. But often, He allows tension to remain because tension reveals dependence. Comfort can quietly replace trust if we are not careful. Ease can dull discernment. Speed can bypass depth. God is never careless with timing. He is deliberate because He sees the full arc of your life, not just the moment you are desperate to escape.

Many people pray for God to change their situation, but God is often more interested in changing their posture. Not because He wants you to suffer longer, but because the posture you develop in waiting determines how you steward blessing when it arrives. There are things God cannot entrust to a heart that has not learned how to wait. There are doors He will not open until pride has been softened, dependence has been clarified, and faith has been purified of conditions.

This is why Scripture speaks of faith being refined like gold. Refining requires heat. Heat requires time. And time requires trust. The impurities do not rise to the surface immediately. They emerge gradually, under sustained pressure. The waiting season exposes fears you didn’t know were there, motivations you hadn’t examined, and attachments that cannot move forward with you. God is not punishing you by revealing these things. He is freeing you from them.

The most dangerous interpretation you can make in a season of stillness is to assume that nothing is happening simply because nothing is visible. God works beneath the surface far more often than He works in plain sight. Roots always grow before fruit appears. Strength is built before elevation is given. Identity is formed before assignment is released. If God revealed everything He was doing at once, it would overwhelm you. Instead, He invites you to trust Him one step at a time.

It is important to understand that waiting does not mean passivity. Biblical waiting is active. It involves prayer, obedience, integrity, and endurance. It means continuing to do what is right even when there is no immediate reward. It means showing up with faithfulness when recognition is absent. It means choosing obedience not because it is efficient, but because it is faithful. Waiting is not inactivity; it is alignment.

There is a temptation during prolonged waiting to manufacture movement. To force doors open. To compromise convictions. To accept substitutes for the promises of God. This is where many people lose years of progress. Not because God delayed too long, but because impatience led them to choose something premature. A rushed answer can cost far more than a delayed one. God’s no is often protection. His silence is often guidance. His delays are often mercy.

Scripture is filled with warnings about moving ahead of God. Abraham and Sarah tried to solve waiting with human logic, and the consequences rippled for generations. Saul rushed obedience and lost his kingdom. The Israelites demanded movement and built a golden calf. Impatience has always been costly. Trust, though slower, has always been safer.

The irony is that when God finally does move, it often feels sudden—not because it was unplanned, but because the preparation was unseen. One conversation shifts everything. One decision opens the door. One opportunity changes the direction of your life. People call it luck. Scripture calls it providence. The difference is perspective.

When that moment comes, it becomes clear that the waiting was not wasted. The skills you developed, the discernment you gained, the humility you learned, and the faith you strengthened all become necessary for what follows. What once felt like delay reveals itself as design. What once felt like silence reveals itself as strategy.

This is why giving up too early is so tragic. Not because failure is final, but because perseverance is so often the final requirement before breakthrough. The enemy does not need to destroy you if he can simply exhaust you. He does not need to erase your calling if he can convince you it is taking too long. Discouragement thrives on impatience. Faith thrives on endurance.

There is something holy about continuing when quitting would be understandable. Something powerful about trusting when doubting would be justified. Something transformative about worshiping when circumstances remain unchanged. This is not denial. This is devotion. It is choosing to place your confidence not in what you see, but in who God has proven Himself to be.

God has never failed to keep a promise. Not once. But He often fulfills them differently than expected and later than desired. This does not make Him unfaithful. It makes Him wise. A promise fulfilled too early can destroy the very thing it was meant to bless. God is patient because He is protective.

If your life feels stalled right now, resist the urge to interpret that as stagnation. Ask instead what God might be developing beneath the surface. Ask what attachments are being loosened. Ask what trust is being strengthened. Ask what perspective is being reshaped. These are not delays. They are investments.

You may feel like you are standing at zero—no momentum, no clarity, no visible progress. But zero is not nothing in the hands of God. Zero is where creation began. Zero is where resurrection began. Zero is where faith stops leaning on self and starts leaning fully on God. Zero is not the absence of power; it is the absence of illusion.

When God moves you from zero to a hundred, it is rarely gradual. It is decisive. It is unmistakable. It is timed. And when it happens, you will not question whether it was Him. The shift will carry His signature—peace without explanation, provision without panic, clarity without confusion. The speed will not come from effort. It will come from alignment.

Until that moment arrives, your task is simple, though not easy: remain faithful. Continue praying. Continue trusting. Continue choosing obedience even when it feels unrewarded. Continue believing that the God who called you is still involved in the details of your life.

Your waiting is not invisible to Him. Your tears have not gone unnoticed. Your obedience has not been wasted. Your faith has not been misplaced. God is not indifferent to your pain, and He is not unaware of the time. He is working according to a wisdom that sees beyond the moment and a love that refuses to rush what must be sustained.

The stillness you are experiencing is not empty. It is full of intention. The silence is not abandonment. It is focus. The delay is not denial. It is preparation.

Do not give up just yet. Not because you must prove something, but because God is still moving—even when you cannot see it. And when the moment arrives, when the shift happens, when the door opens, and the story turns, you will see clearly what could only be trusted before.

The quiet was never wasted.

The waiting was never empty.

And God was never absent.

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

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Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

#Faith #TrustGod #ChristianEncouragement #FaithJourney #WaitingOnGod #HopeInChrist #Endurance #SpiritualGrowth #GodsTiming #NeverGiveUp #ChristianInspiration #FaithOverFear #Purpose #Hope

After writing Am I made for AI orchestration?, I thought about, if I should fear that AI could replace my job.

<!—more—>

Sure, why not? I love writing code. I really do. But I also love to create new software. I would miss writing code by hand and there will be time where I just do it, instead of letting AI do the job. Why not? If I work in my garage on wood projects, I use sometimes a hand saw (Japanese Saw) or a circular saw. Just use the right tool at the right time?

AI enables me to do things, that were too much work with not enough value. Now I can just add these small features to projects that were only on the nice-to-have-sometime-in-the-future list. It’s a win win for everyone.

Another thing where helps me, is getting startet with tasks. I often have a blocker in my head, where I feel lost and procrastinate until deadline is near. Here is just start talking with the AI about the topic and somehow I get motivated and start. Sounds crazy but it works wonders for me.

So, will AI replace my job? Yes, but I find another one, where I can utilize my tools to create and help!

---

91 of #100DaysToOffload
#log #ai
Thoughts?

https://youtu.be/wOtDS9I0Cro?si=HzDxdVRGVn4CDz7C

Heute mit Kollegen im Borchardt zu Mittag gegessen (kommt nicht häufig vor). Bruce Darnell war da. Ungelogen.

Former Chicago mayor and U.S. ambassador to Japan Rahm Emanuel points toward the exit door at Center for American Progress, 21 Jan. 2026 (A. Kotok)

Speaking at the Center for American Progress in Washington, D.C. yesterday, former Chicago mayor and U.S. ambassador to Japan Rahm Emanuel called for a mandatory retirement age of 75 across all three branches of government. And TechNewsLit was there to photo the event.

The age-75 limit is part of Emanuel's anticorruption proposals that he says should apply to the president, vice-president, members of Congress, and judiciary. “Thank you for your service,” said Emanuel, “up and out” at age 75. Both the New York Times and Politico Playbook this morning led with the mandatory retirement age in their reports of his talk at the D.C. think tank.

Emanuel talked about the need for reform during the Q&A part of the program, in response ot a question from Neera Tanden, president and CEO of Center for American Progress, or CAP. He said cleaning up the corruption in Washington needs to be a top goal of a new Democratic president, whether its gifts to Supreme Court judges, insider trading by members of Congress, or self-dealing in the White House. To this photographer, he sounded like a candidate for president.

In prepared remarks, Emanuel discussed education reform citing his experiences as mayor of Chicago, but also various statewide efforts. In Chicago, said Emanuel, he tried to make a high school diploma more of a checkpoint in personal growth than an end in itself. To receive a diploma, said Emanuel, students needed to show evidence of education or training beyond high school, such as an apprenticeship, training program, or college acceptance.

A gallery of photos from Emanuel's talk at CAP are now in the TechNewsLit collection on Smugumug. We expect other images to be available shortly in the TechNewsLit portfolio at the Alamy photo agency.

Copyright © Technology News and Literature. All rights reserved.

For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks.

VOICE ONLY:

O Beloved—
 Fire before form,
 Light that arrives 
Not to banish night
 But to rule it.

You are the ember
 Set in the dark bowl of the world,
 The glow that teaches shadow
 Where to kneel.
 By you, my heart Learns its hours.

You are the pressure of fate
 Worked into the grain of my mind, 
The god-hand in the stone, 
Pressing thought into destiny,
 Feeling into law,
 Action into oath.

You are the ground 
Against which I strain— 
The earth that holds 
And the earth that binds, 
The weight that steadies Even as it claims.

You are the veil
 Laid upon my naked being, 
Not to hide,
 But to consecrate:
 Hands upon skin
 As blessing,
 Touch that turns refusal 
Into surrender.

You are dawn
 Rising inside the moon,
 The host that comes
 When gates are weakest, 
Unbarred from within.


You pass through me 
As conquest and completion— 
Victorious,
 And leaving me
 Spent upon the field.

I am the vassal king, 
Crowned in my own unmaking.
 Petition spoken,
P etition answered.
 I am the power
 That shears its own mane, 
Breaks its own seal, 
If it pleases thee.

For I am your desire made flesh— 
Longing given breath,
 Want walking upright 
In the body of a boy
 Who learned too late 
That service can be holy.

I am the acolyte
 Of being seen.

For this is my sorcery,
 My only dominion:
 To behold nakedness
 Without recoil—
 To name beauty 
In the full terrain
 Of body
And soul.

And thus I open myself— 
Flesh and mind unbarred— 
And set before you
 The beast I am,
 Unadorned.

And when you did not turn away,
 When you stood
 Unmoved, You took me.

All of me.


Bound not by force,
 But by recognition.

In the thicks of fighting my Homeowners Association last year, I began to disassociate from my home. The ideas I had about improving it, and the things I had already done to make it my own, no longer became sources of joy. My home, in fact, was no longer my home. It was a just a house. Then I remembered, that was how I felt when I moved in.

I did not buy my dream home. I bought a place to move into because my rent was about to increase too much. Because I had moved so many times, I became enamored with the thought of not moving again. My long-time realtor (Yes, I already had a realtor because this was not my first time considering buying a house.) showed me properties around the SouthShore region that met my criteria. But the number one criterion was affordability. I did not even know I could get a house with my salary at the time.

I did not love the neighborhood as there was nothing to love because it was mostly empty. A clubhouse with a pool and gym? Yeah, that’s cool and all, but I have lived without one and I know where to find both. A walkable nature trail? Yeah, that’s nice; but that is what parks are for. I reeeeaaaally wanted to live in a neighborhood further up the street—not because the neighborhood was better (also new construction), but because the floor plan was perfect! However, just one zip code north of here put me out of my price range.

When I first moved to the SouthShore region of Hillsborough County, Florida, my “dream” was to live in Panther Trace in Riverview. I was really wowed by the amenities (multiple pools), the large size of the community and the trees (lots of room to walk and bike without being in the direct sun), and mostly because the elementary school was inside the neighborhood. Over the years that I have lived in this region, Panther Trace has expanded and its size makes me nauseous. Plus, my colleague—who was a resident—told me that the neighborhood went waaaaay downhill.

Years later, my dream community was MiraBay in Apollo Beach. It was another large community with a secured, gated entry, clubhouse with bar/restaurant-type features, and water and more water. Unfortunately, due to that water and more water, flood insurance was required. And over the years, apparently that water and more water has been creeping into the neighborhood.

When you are qualifying for a mortgage you must factor in the cost of the house, of course, but also the HOA fees, the CDD fees, the homeowners insurance fees, and the flood insurance fees. All those fees reduce the price of the home you can afford. So, I could only really afford to move to my current neighborhood. That is why I am here.

I have done some improvements myself. For the things I could not do, I hired others. The longer I stayed here, the more invested I became in changing the house to suit my needs and desires. The longer I stayed here, the more my house became my refuge from workplace toxicity. The longer I stayed here the more proud I became at being able to cut off the outside world—if only temporarily—to tend to the yard, to engage in various arts, to dream, to have respite, to protect myself, my peace, and my sanity. Castle.

I had hopes and wishes for my house. And that all unraveled due to the actions of the HOA. Now, I feel like a stranger on someone else’s property.

Beste Rouwende

Zoals u weet heeft onze beminde over grootvader onlangs het tijdelijke verlaten ingewisseld voor het mogelijke altijd gezellig klaverjassen in goed gezelschap, kaartspelers gek op verliezen want onze Gerardus Bastiaansz Gruwel kon bij leven in ieder geval slecht tegen zijn verlies.

Uw roosters en leven daar in kennende bent u zo als wij zijn, overvolle agenda's gevuld met theater bezoeken, werk, zaken lunches, vakanties naar exotische of ordinaire bestemmingen, baby borrels, huis opwarm festijnen, feesten en partijen, cultureel werk, klussen, picknicks in park of bos en dergelijke. Het leek ons daarom beter om voor zijn ter aarde stelling gebruik te maken van de data planner.

Zou u zo vriendelijk willen zijn om daarop aan te geven op welke dag of dagen u aanwezig kunt zijn voor het afscheid van onze lieve over grootvader Bas, hij die ons toch nog onverwacht en snel verliet met amper 109 jaar op zijn tikker.

In samenspraak met de geherschikte voorgevormde kerk zijn de volgende zeven data en tijden voor ons beschikbaar.

[ ] 27 01 om 15:30 – 17:30 [ ] 28 01 om 11:05 – 13:05 [ ] 06 02 om 14:20 – 15:45 [ ] 08 02 om 13:15 – 15:15 [ ] 13 02 om 19:00 – 20:30 [ ] 17 02 om 15:30 – 17:15 [ ] 20 02 om 14:15 – 16:30

Wij hopen u dan allen te zien verschijnen voor het grote afscheid één dezer dagen.

GO HOOSIERS!

Tonight I'll be cheering on my Indiana University Women's Basketball Team when they travel to Columbus, Ohio, to play against the number 12th Nationally Ranked Ohio State Buckeyes.

And the adventure continues.