Unashamed – #114

Index for all posts in the Gospel Sync Series

Welcome Back! Today, we’ll be looking at the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke to see what happens to those who are ashamed of Jesus and/or His Word.

So let’s get started.

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Matthew 16:27–28, Mark 8:38-9:1, Luke 9:26–27

If anyone is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when He comes in His glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.” For the Son of Man will come in His Father’s glory with His angels, and then He will repay each one according to what he has done. Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in His kingdom, the kingdom of God arriving with power.”

My Thoughts

What does this look like? I mean “being ashamed of Jesus and His Word?” Let me give a few examples;

When we feel embarrassed or humiliated by association with Jesus, His Word, or His people.
We might cringe inwardly or feel a knot in our stomach when Jesus or His ways are mentioned.
We blush, avoid eye contact, or our shoulders tense and rear back when someone is sharing the gospel in public.
We turn away or fidget nervously when our King is mentioned in a derogatory way instead of taking a stand for Him.
We hesitate to talk about Him, His ways, or His people, deflecting questions, or speaking in hushed or apologetic tones.
Actively steering clear of conversations where Jesus is mentioned or highlighted by others at work, school, or where we play. Everywhere but in a church building where it is “socially acceptable.”

Shame is often tied to a fear of judgment, so these behaviors aim to protect our own image or avoid scrutiny.

Far from shame, we experience the opposite when delighted with our King, His Word, and His people:

We feel a sense of joy, enthusiasm, or a sense of uplifting when speaking about or being linked to Jesus, His Word, and His people.
A bright smile, direct eye contact, or a glowing, open expression when discussing or presenting Jesus.
Pleasant posture, leaning forward, or animated gestures.
You might stand close to a brother or sister or display your Bible prominently.
We are eager to talk about God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, praising their qualities, or sharing our testimony with confidence and excitement with no hesitation or apology in our tone.
We just actively share the gospel with people (Family, Friends, Associates, and Strangers).

I have found that being proud of God and using the names of the Triune God is a crucial part of discipleship. People need to be taught to swim against the current of this world. Jesus calls it a “adulterous and sinful generation.” Being proud of God in speech and action in this world takes training, conviction, courage, and commitment. It also helps if the young (or old) disciple is amongst like-hearted courageous brothers and sisters.

Thus says the LORD, “Let not a wise man boast of his wisdom, and let not the mighty man boast of his might, let not a rich man boast of his riches; but let him who boasts boast of this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD who exercises lovingkindness, justice and righteousness on earth; for I delight in these things,” declares the LORD.

(Jeremiah 9:23-24)

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.

(Romans 1:16)

My Story

When Deb and I train disciples to share Jesus with others, we dedicate about an hour to teaching them how to craft a 1-2 minute testimony with the gospel at its heart. It’s straightforward, but the real challenge comes next: we take them out to share that testimony with strangers. You might wonder, “How effective is this? How many people come to Christ?” Honestly, not many. More people find faith through relationships within their personal networks. But sharing with strangers builds confidence, sharpens skills, and deepens conviction for when they talk to family, friends, or colleagues. And it does something else equally vital.

I liken our evangelism training to the U.S. Army’s Paratrooper school—a grueling three-week program that tests soldiers physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. At the end, they parachute from a perfectly good aircraft five times. The Army trains 12,000 to 14,000 paratroopers annually, spending roughly $20,000 per soldier. That’s a pretty big chunk of change. Yet most of these paratroopers will never jump again in their careers.

When was the last large-scale U.S. airborne assault? March 26, 2003, during Operation Iraqi Freedom, when about 950 paratroopers from the 173rd Airborne Brigade dropped into Bashur Airfield in northern Iraq to secure it. Smaller Special Operations jumps have occurred in Vietnam, Panama, Grenada, and Afghanistan, but nothing rivals the massive WWII operations like Overlord, Market Garden, or Varsity, which involved over 70,000 paratroopers.

So why does the Army invest so much in a seemingly outdated combat delivery system? One word: courage. The training forges this quality in soldiers, making the cost and effort worthwhile. When Deb and I lead people to share the gospel, we’re doing the same—cultivating courage in Jesus’ disciples. A disciple bold enough to proclaim the gospel is unlikely to ever feel ashamed of Him.

Our Action Plan

Now it’s time for application. Here’s some ideas;

Reflect on the list provided about feeling ashamed or unashamed of Jesus or His Word. Are there any points that resonate with you personally?

Guide those you’re discipling to practice sharing the gospel regularly, helping them build the confidence to share their faith in Jesus consistently.

Ask yourself and those you mentor: “How frequently do we talk about Jesus outside of our church gatherings?”

Let’s hold fast to our faith and share Jesus with bold hearts wherever life takes us. With courage and love, we’ll carry His light into the world, unashamed and unafraid.

Index for all posts in the Gospel Sync Series

Sin Vergüenza – #114

¡Bienvenidos de nuevo! Hoy analizaremos los Evangelios de Mateo, Marcos y Lucas para ver qué les sucede a quienes se avergüenzan de Jesús y/o de su Palabra.

Comencemos.

Mateo 16:27-28, Marcos 8:38-9:1, Lucas 9:26-27

Si alguien se avergüenza de mí y de mis palabras en esta generación adúltera y pecadora, el Hijo del Hombre también se avergonzará de él cuando venga en su gloria, en la gloria del Padre y de los santos ángeles. Porque el Hijo del Hombre vendrá en la gloria de su Padre con sus ángeles, y entonces recompensará a cada uno conforme a sus obras. De cierto os digo que algunos de los que están aquí no probarán la muerte sin antes ver al Hijo del Hombre viniendo en su reino, el reino de Dios llegando con poder.

Mis Pensamientos

¿Cómo se manifiesta esto? Me refiero a “¿avergonzarse de Jesús y su Palabra?”. Les daré algunos ejemplos:

Cuando nos sentimos avergonzados o humillados por la asociación con Jesús, su Palabra o su pueblo.

Puede que nos encogamos interiormente o sintamos un nudo en el estómago cuando se menciona a Jesús o sus caminos.

Nos sonrojamos, evitamos el contacto visual o tensamos los hombros y nos encogemos cuando alguien comparte el evangelio en público.

Nos alejamos o nos inquietamos cuando se menciona a nuestro Rey de forma despectiva en lugar de defenderlo.

Dudamos en hablar de Él, sus caminos o su pueblo, evadiendo preguntas o hablando en voz baja o como disculpándose.

Evitamos activamente las conversaciones donde otros mencionan o destacan a Jesús en el trabajo, la escuela o donde nos divertimos. En todas partes, excepto en una iglesia, donde es “socialmente aceptable”.

La vergüenza suele estar ligada al miedo al juicio, por lo que estos comportamientos buscan proteger nuestra propia imagen o evitar el escrutinio. Lejos de la vergüenza, experimentamos lo contrario cuando nos deleitamos con nuestro Rey, Su Palabra y Su pueblo:

Sentimos alegría, entusiasmo o una sensación de aliento al hablar de Jesús, Su Palabra y Su pueblo, o al conectar con ellos.

Una sonrisa radiante, contacto visual directo o una expresión radiante y abierta al hablar o presentar a Jesús.

Una postura agradable, inclinarse hacia adelante o gestos animados.

Puedes pararte cerca de un hermano o hermana o mostrar tu Biblia en un lugar visible.

Anhelamos hablar de Dios Padre, Hijo y Espíritu Santo, alabando sus cualidades o compartiendo nuestro testimonio con confianza y entusiasmo, sin vacilación ni disculpa en nuestro tono.

Simplemente compartimos activamente el evangelio con las personas (familiares, amigos, conocidos y desconocidos).

He descubierto que estar orgulloso de Dios y usar el nombre del Dios Trino es una parte crucial del discipulado. Es necesario enseñar a las personas a nadar contra la corriente de este mundo. Jesús lo llama una “generación adúltera y pecadora”. Estar orgulloso de Dios en palabras y acciones en este mundo requiere entrenamiento, convicción, valentía y compromiso. También ayuda si el discípulo, joven o mayor, se encuentra entre hermanos y hermanas valientes con el mismo corazón.

Así dice el SEÑOR: «Que el sabio no se jacte de su sabiduría, ni el poderoso se jacte de su poderío, ni el rico se jacte de sus riquezas. Pero el que se jacte, que se jacte de esto: de entenderme y conocerme, que yo soy el SEÑOR, que hago misericordia, juicio y justicia en la tierra; porque en estas cosas me deleito», declara el SEÑOR.

(Jeremías 9:23-24)

Porque no me avergüenzo del evangelio, porque es poder de Dios para salvación a todo el que cree, al judío primeramente y también al griego.

(Romanos 1:16)

Mi Historia

Cuando Deb y yo capacitamos a otros para compartir a Jesús, dedicamos aproximadamente una hora a enseñarles a elaborar un testimonio de uno o dos minutos centrado en el evangelio. Es sencillo, pero el verdadero desafío viene después: los invitamos a compartir ese testimonio con desconocidos. Quizás se pregunten: “¿Qué tan efectivo es esto? ¿Cuántas personas llegan a Cristo?”. Sinceramente, no muchas. Más personas encuentran la fe a través de las relaciones dentro de sus redes personales. Pero compartir con desconocidos fortalece la confianza, agudiza las habilidades y profundiza la convicción para cuando hablan con familiares, amigos o colegas. Y tiene un efecto igualmente vital.

Comparo nuestro entrenamiento de evangelización con la escuela de paracaidistas del Ejército de los Estados Unidos: un agotador programa de tres semanas que pone a prueba a los soldados física, mental, emocional e incluso espiritualmente. Al final, se lanzan en paracaídas desde un avión en perfecto estado cinco veces. El Ejército entrena entre 12.000 y 14.000 paracaidistas al año, con un gasto aproximado de 20.000 dólares por soldado. Es una suma considerable. Sin embargo, la mayoría de estos paracaidistas nunca volverán a saltar en sus carreras.

¿Cuándo fue el último asalto aéreo estadounidense a gran escala? El 26 de marzo de 2003, durante la Operación Libertad Iraquí, cuando unos 950 paracaidistas de la 173.ª Brigada Aerotransportada desembarcaron en el aeródromo de Bashur, en el norte de Irak, para asegurarlo. Se han realizado saltos de Operaciones Especiales más pequeños en Vietnam, Panamá, Granada y Afganistán, pero nada se compara con las operaciones masivas de la Segunda Guerra Mundial como Overlord, Market Garden o Varsity, que involucraron a más de 70.000 paracaidistas.

Entonces, ¿por qué el Ejército invierte tanto en un sistema de lanzamiento de combate aparentemente anticuado? En una palabra: valentía. El entrenamiento forja esta cualidad en los soldados, haciendo que el costo y el esfuerzo valgan la pena. Cuando Deb y yo guiamos a la gente a compartir el evangelio, estamos haciendo lo mismo: cultivando la valentía en los discípulos de Jesús. Un discípulo lo suficientemente valiente como para proclamar el evangelio probablemente nunca se avergüence de Él.

Nuestro Plan de Acción

Ahora es momento de aplicarlo. Aquí tienes algunas ideas:

Reflexiona sobre la lista proporcionada sobre sentirte o no avergonzado del evangelio. ¿Hay algún punto que te resuene personalmente?

Guía a quienes estás discipulando a practicar compartir el evangelio con regularidad, ayudándolos a desarrollar la confianza para compartir su fe en Jesús constantemente.

Pregúntate a ti mismo y a quienes mentoreas: “¿Con qué frecuencia hablamos de Jesús fuera de las reuniones de la iglesia?”.

Mantengámonos firmes en nuestra fe y compartamos a Jesús con corazones valientes dondequiera que la vida nos lleve. Con valentía y amor, llevaremos su luz al mundo, sin vergüenza ni miedo.

Si ve un problema importante en la traducción, envíeme una corrección por correo electrónico a charleswood1@gmail.com

The Calling – Chapter 34 – The Plan

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Then he said to me, “This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel saying, ‘Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,’ says the LORD of hosts.

Zechariah 4:6

Report

The sun dipped low, casting long shadows through the trees as Kristen and Mayumi tore out of the forest at a dead run. Their boots pounded the alien dirt, kicking up clumps of green moss, their breaths puffing in the cool air after months of scraping by on the moon they had recently named “Eden.” The camp loomed ahead—log walls rough but sturdy, smoke curling from the chimney like a lifeline. Four months of survival had honed them, but what they’d just found hit like a gut punch.

They skidded into the clearing, panting, and Wade was already at the cabin door, his slender frame tense, one of their two pulse pistols holstered at his hip. His eyes locked on Kristen, taking in her flushed face and the wild urgency in her stride. Jay poked his head out behind him, wiping greasy hands on a rag, his usual smirk fading as he caught Mayumi’s grim look.

“Talk to me, Kris,” Wade said, his voice steady but softer than a commander’s bark, the tone of a husband who knew trouble when he saw it.

Kristen sucked in a breath, wiping sweat off her brow with a dirt-streaked hand. “Skravak skeleton, babe,” she said, still catching her wind. “Western ravine, its about five klicks out. Smaller than those monsters we fought—two meters, tops. It looks to be Bio-engineered, with cybernetic junk plugged into its spine. Been dead maybe two hundred years, maybe more.”

Mayumi stepped up beside her, clutching their jury-rigged scanner, its faint buzz cutting through the quiet. “That’s not the half of it,” she said, glancing at Jay—her husband—with a mix of focus and unease. “Five klicks past the bones—ten from here—we spotted a structure. Comm array, at least six dishes, built for deep-space chatter. It’s alive, Wade. Dishes shifted while we watched, catching the sun off the main reflector.”

Wade’s jaw dropped, his hand freezing halfway to his stubbled chin. “A structure?” he blurted, eyes wide. “Here?”

Jay tossed the rag aside, stepping out with a stunned laugh. “You’re kidding me, right, hon? A comm array? On this rock?” He ran a hand through his hair, grease smearing, his shock plain as day.

“Dead serious,” Mayumi shot back, tapping the scanner’s cracked screen. “No life signs, no movement, but it’s powered up—active realignment. That’s no rusting hulk.”

Kristen’s mind raced. “Something’s weird, Wade,” she said, locking eyes with him. “That skeleton’s not natural—someone messed with it, big time. And the array? It’s human-made but advanced tech, all sleek and functional, but no humans anywhere. Doesn’t sit right.”

Wade scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking off the shock as his brain kicked into gear. “Inside, all of you,” he said, stepping back from the door, his tone firming up. “Lay it out—every detail. We’re not jumping into this blind.”

They piled into the cabin, the warm smell of woodsmoke mixing with the tension hanging thick. Jay slung an arm around Mayumi’s shoulders, half for comfort, half to steady himself, while Kristen stayed close to Wade, her hand brushing his arm. This wasn’t just a report—it was a wake-up call, yanking them out of the cozy routine they’d built. Whatever was out there, skeleton or structure, it was real, it was close, and—Lord help them—it might be their escape or… their doom.

The Debate

Jay slammed his hands on the table, the crack echoing off the log walls as Kristen and Mayumi’s report sank in. The air hummed with tension, their report still ringing in their ears. Jay leaned forward, elbows planted on the table, his restless energy crackling like a live wire.

“We’ve waited long enough, folks,” Jay said, his voice sharp, hands gesturing wide. “Skravak bones, a comm array—something’s cooking out there, and I say we go now. Grab the pistols, hike out, and see what’s what. Sitting here’s just begging for trouble to find us first.”

Wade leaned back, arms crossed, his pulse pistol a quiet weight at his hip. His eyes flicked to Jay, steady and measuring, the leader sizing up the moment. “Slow down, Jay,” he said, calm but firm, like he was talking a man off a ledge. “We don’t rush this. We’ve got training—we need to use it. Two pulse pistols, maybe a dozen shots between ‘em, and some homemade bows won’t cut it if we stumble into a mess. We think first, move second.”

Jay snorted, glancing at Mayumi with a half-grin. “C’mon, babe, back me up. That array’s active—you saw it. Could be our ticket off this rock, or at least a signal to Command. We can’t just twiddle our thumbs.”

Mayumi hesitated, her scanner resting on the table, fingers tapping its edge. Her sharp eyes darted between Jay’s impatience and the device’s cracked screen, her mind clearly snagged on the array’s mystery. “It’s tempting,” she admitted, voice soft but thoughtful. “Those dishes are high-grade—could reach half the sector if they’re online. But…” She trailed off, wavering, caught between curiosity and caution.

Kristen slid closer to Wade,—a quiet show of unity. “I’m with Wade on this,” she said, her tone steady, practical. “We’ve got two pistols and barely any rounds left in ‘em—one clip each, tops. We burned through most of our ammo getting here. Charging in half-cocked could leave us dead—or worse, stranded with nothing. We need a plan, not a sprint.”

Jay threw up his hands, exasperation leaking through. “A plan’s great, Kris, but time’s not our friend. What if that array’s broadcasting right now? What if someone—or something—knows we’re here?”

Wade’s gaze hardened, and he straightened, his voice dropping an octave—a hint of rank creeping in. “That’s exactly why we don’t leap, Jay. We’ve got one shot at this—literally, with the ammo we’ve got. You wanna risk Mayumi and Kris over a hunch? Or leave us defenseless if the Skravak aren’t as dead as that skeleton?” He tapped the table once, firm. “We recon it right.”

Mayumi nodded slowly, her indecision firming up as she squeezed Jay’s arm. “He’s got a point, hon. That array’s got me curious—real curious—but we’re not equipped for a firefight. Not yet.”

Jay slumped back, grumbling under his breath, but the fight drained out of him. Kristen caught Wade’s eye, a flicker of confidence passing between them—holding the line on logic not emotion. The debate settled into a taut silence, the fire’s crackle underscoring the truth: haste could kill them, but the array’s pull wasn’t going away. They’d need more than guts to face it—they’d need a strategy.

Resource Assessment

The fire cast a warm glow across the cabin as the crew spread their gear on the table, a meager arsenal laid bare under the flickering light. Wade ran his fingers over the edge of a hand-forged hatchet, its blade chipped but sharp, while Kristen sorted a pile of arrows—fletched with alien feathers from Eden’s bird-things. Jay hefted one of their two pulse pistols, its sleek casing dulled by scratches, and Mayumi stacked a handful of crude knives beside a coil of salvaged wire. Four months of scavenging the Scout’s wreckage had given them this: a survivor’s toolkit, lean and mean.

“Knives and hatchets, one each,” Kristen said, her voice steady as she tallied, glancing at Wade with a wife’s quiet trust. “Bows, three—maybe fourty arrows. They’re good for hunting, but very questionable for a fight.”

Jay flipped the pulse pistol in his hand, popping the clip to check it. “Two of these beauties,” he said, a wry edge to his tone. “One clip each—ten shots apiece, twenty total, assuming they don’t jam. Trigger discipline’s gonna be our best friend.” He set it down, trading a look with Mayumi that said he wasn’t thrilled.

Mayumi unrolled a tattered schematic of the Scout’s remains, pointing to a scrawled note. “We’ve got wire, some hull scraps, and a half-can of thruster fuel—leaky, but usable,” she said, her mind already turning. “We could rig snares or tripwires—slow something down if it comes at us. The fuel might make a decent flare—or a distraction if we splash it and light it up.”

Wade nodded, rubbing his jaw as he eyed the pile. “Traps are smart,” he said. “We’ve got no numbers, no firepower to speak of. If we’re trekking ten klicks to that array, we need ways to even the odds. What about a decoy? Rig a bow to fire on a trigger-pull, draw attention off us?”

Kristen smirked, picking up a hatchet. “Or we go low-tech—sharpen stakes, plant ‘em around a choke point. It worked for our ancestors, might work here. Anything to buy us time with only twenty rounds of ammo.”

Jay leaned back, arms crossed, his earlier fire simmering down. “Yeah, okay, I see it,” he said, softer now. “We’re not exactly a strike force. Still don’t love sitting on our hands, but…” He trailed off, then stood, facing the team with a sheepish grin. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? Got hot-headed back there, pushing to run out half-ready. I shouldn’t have questioned you like that, Wade. I guess the stress of the past months has got me a little on edge. Once you make the call, I’m in—all the way.”

The room stilled, the crackle of the fire filling the pause. Wade met Jay’s gaze, his expression softening—he was his leader, but more importantly a friend and a brother in the faith. “Appreciate that, Jay,” he said, voice low and warm. “Your pushback keeps us sharp—don’t ever stop. But your loyalty? That’s what keeps us alive. Thanks for sticking with it.”

Kristen gave Jay a nod, a small smile tugging her lips, while Mayumi squeezed his hand, pride flickering in her eyes. The gear sat between them—scarce, battered, but theirs—and survival demanded they make it enough. Creativity would be their edge, and Jay’s apology sealed the bond they’d need to wield it.

The Questions Emerge

Wade paused mid-scratch, the charred stick hovering over the slate as he muttered, ‘Why’d we miss it?” The gear inventory lay scattered around them, a stark reminder of their limits, but now the crew’s attention turned inward—chewing on the unknowns Kristen and Mayumi had dragged back from the ravine. Three questions loomed like shadows, and Wade wasn’t letting them sit unanswered.

“First up,” he said, tapping the slate, his voice steady but edged with concern as he glanced at Kristen. “Why’d our orbital scan miss that array? We swept this moon top to bottom from the Scout—active comms should’ve lit up our boards like a flare.”

Mayumi frowned, cradling her scanner like it held the key. “Could be cloaked,” she said, her tone analytical but tinged with unease. “Some kind of dampening field—high-end tech, military-grade. Or it was dormant ‘til recently, and we just got lucky—or unlucky—catching it awake.”

“Or someone flipped it on after we crashed,” Jay cut in, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe they know we’re here. Watching us, waiting.” His fingers drummed the table, restless and paranoid.

Kristen shifted closer to Wade, as she picked up the thread. “Second question’s bugging me more,” she said, voice low. “That structure’s human—clean lines, functional, our kind of build. So where’s the crew? No tracks, no signs, nothing. It’s like they vanished—or never showed up.”

Wade nodded, scribbling it down, his jaw tight. “Abandoned outpost, maybe. Left to run on auto. But if it’s human, why no distress call? No marker? We’d have picked up something in the sector logs.”

“Unless it’s black-budget,” Mayumi said, her voice dropping, sharp with realization. “Off the books, no records. It’s tied to that Skravak skeleton—bio-engineering’s not cheap or public. Someone’s hiding something big.”

Jay snorted, a bitter edge creeping in. “Yeah, and question three’s the kicker: where’s the rest of those Skravak? One dead runt, modded to the hilt, but we’ve been here four months—nothing’s sniffed us out. That’s not luck, that’s creepy.”

“Too comfy,” Wade muttered, almost to himself, scratching the slate harder. “I let us get too settled, that’s a fool’s move. If they’re out there, hibernating or cloaked like the array, we’re sitting ducks.”

“Or they’re gone,” Kristen said, quieter now. “Wiped out by whoever built that place. Maybe the experiment’s over and the lab’s shut down. But that array’s still talking to someone—what if they’re coming back?”

The room went still, the fire’s faint pop the only sound as paranoia took root. Wade set the stick down, the slate now etched with their fears: a silent array, a missing crew, a Skravak ghost town. Each theory spun darker—jamming tech, a deserted base, a lurking threat—and the questions gnawed at them, unanswered but insistent. Whatever they faced, it wasn’t random, and the truth felt closer than they liked.

Mapping the Plan

The cabin’s table was a war zone of scratched lines and smudged charcoal as Wade traced a recon route onto the metal slate, his hand steady despite the stakes. The firelight danced over the crude map—ten kilometers to the array, a daylong round trip through alien wilds. Kristen leaned in beside him, her shoulder brushing his, while Jay and Mayumi hovered close, the crew’s focus sharpening like a blade.

“Stealth’s the name of the game,” Wade said, his voice low and firm, the husband-turned-leader laying it out. “Ten klicks is a haul—we travel light, stick to cover, and cross no open ground. We leave no tracks, make no noise. We set up a surveillance position right here—” He tapped a jagged ridge two klicks shy of the array. “It’s high ground, good lines of sight.

“Just like the tree in the mountains!?” Jay reminded Wade of his unconventional approach to reconnaissance back in Ranger School. They both chuckled at the memory.

Wade finished the briefing, “We’ll watch for two days before we even think about getting closer.”

Kristen nodded, her eyes tracking the route—warriors in sync. “Two teams, two shifts,” she said, practical as ever. “Wade and I take day one—hike out, set the post, hold it overnight. Then you two—” She glanced at Jay and Mayumi. “—head out day two and relieve us so we keep eyes on the facility at all times. Four eyes per shift leaves no gaps.”

“Works for me,” Mayumi said, her tone crisp as she studied the slate. “That ridge’ll give us a clear view of the array’s layout—dish alignment, power hum, anything moving. We’ll use the scanner, tweak it for range. We need data, not guesses.”

Jay cracked his knuckles, a grin tugging at his lips despite the tension. “Fine by me. We’ll start looking at early warning devices to set around the camp and prep it for better defense while you’re gone. But if we’re splitting the pistols, who’s carrying? One per team, I’m guessing?”

“Exactly,” Wade said, tapping the map again. “Kris and I take one pulse pistol—ten rounds—for the first leg. You and Mayumi get the other. Bows and knives for backup. We’re not hunting trouble, just answers.”

Kristen straightened, her hand brushing her Bible in her pocket before resting on the table. “One more thing,” she added, her voice steady. “If it goes sideways—ambush, Skravak, whatever—we need a signal. I say we rig a flare with that thruster fuel Mayumi salvaged. Lash it on an arrow to light up the sky. Bright enough to see from camp if we’re in deep. And… give it some kind of report so that it can be heard too.”

Wade’s eyes met hers, a flicker of pride passing between them. “Good call, hon,” he said, scratching a flare symbol onto the slate. “Last resort only—means we’re running or fighting. Whoever’s at camp preps for trouble if they spot it.”

Jay nodded, his grin fading to a serious line. “Two days watching, two teams to split the difference—tight plan. Let’s do it! Let’s just hope that array doesn’t start talking before we’re ready.”

Mayumi squeezed his arm, her sharp mind already on the trek. “It’s ten klicks of unknown,” she said. “Stealth’s our shield. We stick to it, we come back with something—intel, at least.”

The map sat finished, a lifeline etched in soot—two days, two teams, one ridge between them and the truth. Wade set the charcoal down, his gaze sweeping the crew—his wife, his friends, his fellow Rangers in this mess. “Kris and I move at first light,” he said. “Pack lean, stay sharp. This is recon, not a raid.” The plan is set, and we need to get some sleep before we head out at sunrise.

Looking on High

The cabin’s fire had settled to a dull red pulse, its warmth barely holding back the night’s chill as the crew stood around the table, the recon plan etched into the slate like a battle line. Gear was sorted, roles assigned—Wade and Kristen for the first trek, Jay and Mayumi guarding camp—but the weight of the unknown pressed down hard. Jay shifted, his usual restless energy stilled, and he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the others with a quieter look.

“Hold up a sec,” Jay said, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “Before we crash out, let’s pray. Read something solid—get our heads right. You’ve got ten klicks of who-knows-what tomorrow, and I’d rather not lean on just our two pistols and some luck.”

Wade’s eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face as he nodded. “Good call, Jay,” he said, his tone warm, leader to friend. “What’ve you got?”

Jay fished a worn pocket Bible from his jacket—edges frayed—and thumbed it open. “Proverbs 21:31,” he said, clearing his throat. “‘The horse is prepared for the day of battle, but victory belongs to the Lord.’ Figure that fits—we’re gearing up, but it’s His call in the end.”

Kristen smiled faintly, “Perfect,” she murmured. “Let’s pray, then. Wisdom, skill, protection. We need it all.”

Wade went first, bowing his head, his voice steady and deep. “Lord, you’ve brought us this far—providing us with everything we need on this place of beauty but now danger lurks in the unknown. Grant us wisdom to see what’s ahead, skill to move quiet and smart, and your protection over Kris and me tomorrow. Shield us, guide us.”

Kristen followed, her tone firm yet tender. “Father, you’re our stronghold. Give us wisdom to read the signs out there, skill to use what little we’ve got—those bows, that pistol—and protection from whatever’s waiting. Keep us sharp, keep us safe. Protect Jay and Mayumi as they defend the camp.”

Jay grinned at Mayumi, a spark of his usual self peeking through as he took his turn. “God, you know I’m antsy, but I trust you. Wisdom to not mess this up, skill to keep camp tight and shoot straight if I gotta, and protection for me and my girl here—and those two crazies heading out. Hold us up.”

Mayumi squeezed his hand, her voice calm but fierce as she closed it out. “Lord, you see it all—the array, the risks. Grant us wisdom to understand what we find, skill to rig what we need and stay alert, and protection over every step, out there and back. Your victory, not ours. We pray these things in Your name, Jesus.”

The crew said a firm “AMEN” together.

The prayers hung in the air, a quiet strength settling over them as Jay tucked the Bible away. Wade clapped him on the shoulder, a silent thanks, and the crew turned to their bedding—salvaged mats and blankets spread near the fire. Wade took the first two hour watch. No room for complacency in their newfound awareness. They doused the embers, the cabin dimming to a soft gray, and each sank into their spot: Kristen in her place. Jay and Mayumi curled close, her head on his chest.

Silence took hold, broken only by the faint hum of the alien night beyond the walls. Wade’s mind churned as he sat just outside the cabin door, pistol in his lap—routes, risks, Kristen’s safety—his lips moving in a wordless plea. Kristen traced the empty spot beside her, whispering thanks for Wade’s steady heart. Jay stared at the ceiling, praying for guts to match his bravado, while Mayumi’s thoughts drifted to the array, begging clarity through the dark. They’d armed their souls as best they could; now rest was their last prep before the dawn broke and the recon began.

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The Greatest Disciple-Maker Said… – #113

ENGLISH / ESPAÑOL

Welcome Back! Today, we’ll be looking at the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke to align ourselves more closely with Jesus’ definition of discipleship.

So let’s get started.

(Click here to get a copy of the Gospel Sync document)

Matthew 16:24–26, Mark 8:34-37, Luke 9:23–25

Then Jesus called the crowd to Him along with His disciples, and He said to all of them, “If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and for the gospel will save it. What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet loses or forfeit his soul, his very self? For what can a man give in exchange for his soul?

My Thoughts

We ought to notice that Jesus is not only talking to His disciples but to the crowd as well. He says “if anyone…” In other words, this statement applies to “All y’all.” I’ve heard people try to make a distinction between a Convert and a Disciple. They would describe a convert as one who believes in Jesus and is going to heaven but a disciple is one who is the “Special Forces” of the faith. They do the harder things that Jesus talks about like “denies themselves and takes up their cross.”

The mentality of intellectual assent and stating that they’re on “Team Jesus” is not what He was looking for. He was looking for people who are “All In.” Watering down His commands distorts the “believer’s” identity and purpose. It reduces their identity to a shallow, passive state of the “casual Christian.” They are totally disconnected from the transformative, obedient lifestyle every disciple is called to. They failed the first step of entering the kingdom, repentance. And this misunderstanding of the true fellowship with the Master shrinks their purpose from an active mission to glorify God, make disciples, and advance His kingdom into a self-focused, consumerism that has become the god of our time. This faulty thinking leaves the would-be followers empty and under the delusion of being saved when in fact they are deceived by the Father of Lies.

Jesus makes no distinction. A convert is a disciple and a disciple is a convert. “If anyone wishes to come after me he must…”

My Story

I was recently reading a book that talked about this very issue. In fact it went into greater detail of how we have taken the idea of discipleship and dumbed it down into something that undermines Jesus’ original intent. (Of course I believe in the sovereignty of God, so nothing can really undermine His intentions, despite our worst efforts.) They expressed it this way; “Discipleship is not something the church “bolts on.” It should be “baked in” to everything we do as the church.” I really like that.

Said another way, I once had a commander who coined the phrase; “Training is everything and everything is training.” He was trying to convey the idea that everything we did as soldiers should lead to greater effectiveness as war fighters. I took that to heart and coined my own phrase as a disciple of Jesus; “Everything is about following Jesus and following Jesus is everything.” And that my friends is what Jesus was communicating when it comes to being His disciple.

You may ask, “Where’s the grace in all of this?” The grace is found in the fact that people actually decide to follow Jesus as His disciples. It is a gift of God. They reject the standards set by the world and have a mind set to please the One they call their King. When you see a person like that, you see a person who has had the grace of God lavished on them. They’re not perfect but their heart has been surrendered to the Great Disciple-Maker.

Our Action Plan

Now it’s time for application. Here some ideas;

Ask those you are mentoring, “What is a disciple of Jesus?”
Compare and contrast the cultural definition of discipleship with Jesus’ definition of discipleship.
Start discipling people the way Jesus discipled people.

So let’s not overcomplicate it—Jesus made it clear: following Him means surrender, obedience, and daily devotion. Discipleship isn’t optional or elite; it’s the normal Christian life for anyone who truly wants to come after Him.

El Mayor Hacedor de Discípulos Dijo… – #113

¡Bienvenidos de nuevo! Hoy, estaremos viendo los evangelios de Mateo, Marcos y Lucas para alinearnos más de cerca con la definición de discipulado de Jesús.

Así que, ¡comencemos!

Mateo 16:24–26, Marcos 8:34-37, Lucas 9:23–25

Entonces Jesús llamó a la multitud junto con sus discípulos, y les dijo a todos:
“Si alguien quiere venir en pos de mí, debe negarse a sí mismo, tomar su cruz cada día y seguirme. Porque el que quiera salvar su vida, la perderá; pero el que pierda su vida por causa de mí y del evangelio, la salvará. ¿De qué le sirve al hombre ganar el mundo entero, si pierde su alma, su propio ser? ¿O qué puede dar el hombre a cambio de su alma?

Mis Pensamientos

Debemos notar que Jesús no solo está hablando a sus discípulos, sino también a la multitud. Él dice: “Si alguien…” En otras palabras, esta declaración aplica a todos ustedes.

He escuchado a personas tratar de hacer una distinción entre un converso y un discípulo. Describen al converso como alguien que cree en Jesús y va al cielo, pero al discípulo como uno que pertenece a las “fuerzas especiales” de la fe —aquellos que hacen las cosas difíciles que Jesús menciona como “negarse a sí mismos y tomar su cruz”.

La mentalidad de que solo el asentimiento intelectual o declararse cristiano es suficiente, sin perseguir el discipulado como Jesús manda, distorsiona la identidad y el propósito del creyente. Reduce su identidad a un estado superficial y pasivo de “cristiano casual”, desconectado del discípulo transformado y obediente llamado a reflejar a Cristo y a ser parte activa de Su cuerpo (2 Corintios 5:17, 1 Corintios 12:27). Al mismo tiempo, encoge su propósito de una misión activa para glorificar a Dios, hacer discípulos y avanzar Su reino, a una existencia mínima y enfocada en sí mismo que descuida el crecimiento espiritual, el impacto comunitario y la Gran Comisión (Juan 15:8, Mateo 28:18-20). Este pensamiento defectuoso alimenta la inmadurez espiritual, el aislamiento y la desobediencia, limitando el testimonio del creyente y su rol en la obra redentora de Dios.

Jesús no hace distinción. Un converso es un discípulo, y un discípulo es un converso. “Si alguien quiere venir en pos de mí, debe…”

Mi Historia

Recientemente estaba leyendo un libro que hablaba exactamente de este tema. De hecho, profundizaba aún más en cómo hemos tomado la idea del discipulado y la hemos empaquetado de una forma que casi socava la intención original de Jesús. (Por supuesto, creo en la soberanía de Dios, así que nada puede realmente socavar Sus propósitos, a pesar de nuestros mejores esfuerzos).

Lo expresaron de esta manera:
“El discipulado no es algo que la iglesia ‘añade’ por fuera. Debe estar ‘integrado’ en todo lo que hacemos como iglesia.”
Me encantó esa frase.

Dicho de otra forma, una vez tuve un comandante que acuñó la frase:
“El entrenamiento lo es todo y todo es entrenamiento.”
Él intentaba transmitir la idea de que todo lo que hacíamos como soldados debía llevarnos a ser más efectivos como combatientes. Tomé esa idea en serio y acuñé mi propia frase como discípulo de Jesús:
“Todo se trata de seguir a Jesús, y seguir a Jesús lo es todo.”
Y eso, mis amigos, es exactamente lo que Jesús estaba comunicando cuando se trata de ser Su discípulo.

Nuestro Plan de Acción

Ahora es momento de aplicar lo aprendido. Aquí van algunas ideas:

Pregúntales a aquellos que estás discipulando: “¿Qué es un discípulo de Jesús?”
Compara y contrasta la definición cultural de discipulado con la definición de Jesús.
Comienza a discipular a las personas como Jesús discipuló a las personas.

Así que no lo compliquemos demasiado—Jesús lo dejó claro: seguirle significa entrega, obediencia y devoción diaria.
El discipulado no es opcional ni exclusivo; es la vida cristiana normal para cualquiera que realmente desea venir en pos de Él.

Si ve un problema importante en la traducción, envíeme una corrección por correo electrónico a charleswood1@gmail.com

The Calling – Chapter 33 – Never Say Die

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The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD is the defense of my life; Whom shall I dread?

Psalm 27:1

Systems on the Brink

The Stellar Scout trembled like a wounded beast, its hull groaning under the strain of wounds sustained in the desperate flight from KX-19. The CCS, once a sanctuary of order, now flickered with the erratic pulse of failing systems—consoles spitting static, lights stuttering in a dim, uneven rhythm. The air carried the acrid tang of burnt wiring and the faint hiss of leaking coolant, a chorus of decay that gnawed at the crew’s resolve. Wade stood behind Jay, his eyes wide as he watched over his shoulder at the damage reports cascade across the screen like a litany of doom.

“Power grid’s at thirty percent,” Mayumi reported, her voice taut but steady as she wrestled with the sensor array’s faltering data streams from the Nav/Comm seat. “Main drive’s stable—for now—but the jump capacitors are bleeding charge faster than we can recharge them. One more jump, maybe two if we push it, and that’s it.”

Jay looked over his shoulder at Wade, his usual grin replaced by a grim line. “Stealth systems are offline, too. We’re a sitting duck if anything with a half-decent scanner pings us. And the Badger…” He shook his head, glancing toward the bay where the battered hovercraft rested. “She’s done. Took too many hits. We’re not going anywhere in that heap again.”

Kristen emerged on the CCS, her face streaked with sweat and a smear of blood staining her sleeve. “I took a bolt to my leg,” she said, her tone clipped as she wiped her hands on a rag. “Just a graze but the burn is the worst part. I use synth-skin and all the antibiotics left in the medkit. We can’t afford any kind of infections until we resupply —when we resupply.” Her attempt to be optimistic was painfully obvious.

Wade turned to her, his eyes narrowing as he assessed her words. “Why didn’t you say something!?” Looking at her with concern.

“No time,” she replied, tossing the rag aside. “I knew everyone had their hands full, so I just took care of it. I’m good—really.”

“Well, thank God.” Wade muttered, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw. He gestured to the flickering holo-display, where a schematic of the Scout pulsed with red warnings. “Full damage assessment—now. We need to know exactly what we’re working with.”

The crew snapped into action, a well-oiled machine despite the chaos. Mayumi ran diagnostics from her station, her fingers coaxing data from reluctant systems. Jay crawled into the access panels under the CCS, his multitool flashing as he traced power conduits. Kristen joined Wade at the engineering display, pulling up structural scans and triaging the worst of the breaches. The picture that emerged was bleak: hull integrity at sixty percent, life support flickering on auxiliary power, and the jump drive teetering on the edge of burnout. One more hyperspace leap was all they could muster—and even that was a gamble.

“We’ve got enough juice for a single jump and a tight-beam burst to Command,” Wade said, his voice low and deliberate as he met each crew member’s gaze. “After that, we’re dead in the water. No propulsion, no stealth, no backup, limited life support. Just us and whatever’s out there.”

Mayumi straightened, her almond eyes sharp with calculation. “Then we make it count. The Transpora’s our best lead—it’s probably headed back to Zulu-Niner-Four, that Skravak dock we tracked it from. If we can jump to those coordinates, we might catch it mid-transit.”

“And do what?” Jay asked, emerging from the panel with a smear of grease and blackened ash on his cheek. “We’re in no shape to fight—or even run. What’s the play?”

Kristen crossed her arms, her mind racing as she pieced together the fragments of their predicament. “We piggyback,” she said, her voice firming with resolve. “Attach the Scout to the Transpora’s hull like those fish on a whale and let it drag us back to Zulu-Niner-Four. It’s a million-to-one shot they’ll be there when we arrive, but it’s a known location—better than drifting in the void until our air runs out.”

Wade nodded slowly, the logic slotting into place like a round in a chamber. “It’s desperate, but it’s something. Mayumi, plot the jump—best guess on the Transpora’s return vector. Jay, rig the mag-clamps and prep the hull for attachment. Kristen, get that intel burst ready—everything we’ve got on KX-19, the mining op, the Skravak drones, the works. Command needs to know what we’ve uncovered, even if it’s the last thing we send.”

The crew moved with purpose, their training overriding the exhaustion that gnawed at their bones. Mayumi’s hands flew across her console, charting a course through the void’s uncertainties. Jay clambered into the Scout’s EVA suit, his tools clinking as he secured the magnetic clamps to the hull. Kristen knelt beside Mayumi relaying the intel report, her voice steady as she recorded the message: coordinates, timestamps, sensor logs, and a final, somber note—“Situation critical. Survival unlikely. Trusting in the Father’s hands.” It was encrypted and sent with a prayer.

The jump was a brutal lurch, the Scout’s frame shuddering as hyperspace swallowed them whole. When they emerged, the stars were cold and unfamiliar, Zulu-Niner-Four’s debris field a faint shimmer in the distance. Jay brought the Scout to a full stop, but the Transpora was nowhere in sight—no telltale engine flare, no silhouette against the void. The freighter may have eluded them, and silence settled over the CCS like a shroud.

Awaiting the Inevitable

Days bled into one another, the Scout adrift in the black, its systems fading like a dying ember. The crew gathered in the galley, their faces gaunt under the dim emergency lights. Kristen led them in a quiet hymn, her voice soft but unwavering—“Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light…”—and Wade read from a worn pocket Bible, Psalm 23 steadying their spirits. They shared their last rations, a meager communion of protein bars and recycled water, their laughter brittle but genuine as they recounted old missions and shared hopes for a miracle.

On the fifth day, Mayumi ran a final scan, her hands trembling as she adjusted the failing sensors. “Wade!” she called, her voice cutting through the haze of resignation. “I’ve got something—faint, but real. One of the moons orbiting that gas giant… it’s terraformed. Atmosphere’s breathable, flora and fauna readings consistent with Earth analogs. Life signs, but no humans.”

Wade was on his feet in an instant, the flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “Distance?”

“Close—half a million klicks,” she replied. “We’ve got enough thruster juice to limp there, but reentry’s going to be rough. Hull’s brittle—might not hold.”

“It’s a chance,” Kristen said, her eyes meeting Wade’s. “Better than waiting here to suffocate to death.”

“Jay, plot it!” Wade ordered. “Get us down in one piece—or as close as you can manage.”

The descent was a nightmare of fire and fury, the Scout’s hull glowing cherry-red as it punched through the moon’s atmosphere. Alarms screamed, metal buckled, and the crew strapped in tight, their prayers a silent undercurrent to the chaos. Jay wrestled the controls, his skill the only thing keeping them from a fiery grave. They hit the surface hard, skidding across a grassy plain in a cacophony of rending steel and snapping trees, until the Scout finally came to rest, a smoking ruin amid an alien Eden.

Survival Mode

The air was sweet and cool as they stumbled from the wreckage, their lungs drinking deeply after days of recycled stale oxygen. The moon stretched before them—rolling hills cloaked in emerald forest, a crystal stream glinting under a pale blue sky, and the distant cry of unfamiliar birds. No humans, no signals, just life in its raw, unspoiled glory. But survival demanded focus, and the crew fell into their roles with the skills of seasoned operatives.

Wade took point, his rifle at the ready as he scouted the perimeter, marking a defensible campsite near the stream. “We’ve got water and cover,” he said, his voice steady as he surveyed the terrain. “First priority’s shelter—use the Scout’s hull plates. They’re battered, but they’ll hold off weather and wildlife.”

Kristen organized the salvage, her hands deft as she pried loose panels and triaged their dwindling supplies. “Medkit’s shot, but I’ve got antiseptic and bandages,” she reported. “Food’s gone—we’ll need to forage or hunt. I’ll test the flora with what’s left of the analyzer.”

Jay tackled the tech, stripping the Scout’s wreckage for anything usable. “Comms are fried, but I can rig a solar charger from the aux panels,” he said, his multitool sparking as he worked. “Might get a beacon going—long shot, but it’s something. Thruster fuel’s leaking—could double as firestarter if we’re careful.”

Mayumi mapped the area, her sharp eyes tracing the landscape for resources and threats. “Soil’s fertile—those fruit trees look promising,” she noted, pointing to a grove laden with purple orbs. “Stream’s clean, but I’ll boil it to be safe. No large predators on the scan, but we’ll set watch rotations.”

Together, they built—a lean-to from hull scraps, a firepit ringed with stones, a crude filter for the stream water. Kristen stitched her wound tighter, her field medic training keeping infection at bay, while Wade and Jay felled saplings for spears, their movements synchronized in the unspoken rhythm of teamwork. Night fell, and they sat around the fire, the crackle of burning wood mingling with the hum of alien insects. The stars above were strangers, but the crew’s bond was their anchor—a fragile thread of hope woven through the unknown.

“We’re alive,” Wade said at last, his voice a quiet thunder in the stillness. “That’s more than we had yesterday. We hold fast, we adapt, and we trust Jesus for the outcome. Command might never find us—but we’ll make this work.”

Kristen nodded, her hand resting on the Bible in her lap. “One day at a time,” she murmured. “That’s all we’ve ever had.”

The fire flickered, casting their shadows long across the alien soil. They were stranded, broken, but not beaten—a crew forged in the crucible of the void, now tasked with carving a life from a world that didn’t know their names. Survival was their mission now, and they’d face it as they always had: together.

Strange Remains

The sun had reached its zenith when Kristen and Mayumi crested the ridge overlooking the western ravine. Four months into their unplanned colonization of this nameless moon, and they’d fallen into the disciplines that spacers had relied upon since humanity first ventured beyond Terra’s atmosphere.

They stopped to look back and admire the camp; it had evolved—Wade and Jay had felled sturdy trees from the European-like forests, their trunks echoing Earth’s oaks, to craft a rough log cabin. Its walls stood uneven but solid, topped with a slanted roof of woven branches. Inside, Kristen had set a stone fireplace, its chimney puffing smoke from the fragrant wood of this pristine world. The moon unfurled around them—emerald hills rolled beneath a pale sky, teeming with deer-like game and streams brimming with fish, a bounty perfect for survival. The air was crisp, scented with pine and wildflowers, and the crew had grown adept at hunting and foraging, their table laden with roasted meat and tart purple fruit. They could live here, comfortable on the moon they had named “Eden.” They weren’t just surviving, they were thriving, their skills weaving a life from its riches. Yet, as they enjoyed warm fellowship together each night, the fire crackled and shadows danced on the cabin walls, duty gnawed—a quiet ache to return to the fight, to reclaim their place among their ranks.

Kristen and Mayumi set out again, no words were needed to express the paradox they both felt in this place of peace. It was their turn to patrol the area. Each expedition pushed farther from their camp, mapping the terrain with methodical precision while cataloging resources that might mean the difference between survival and a slow, ignominious end.

“Mineral readings are stronger this way,” Mayumi reported, the improvised scanner—salvaged from the wreckage of the Stellar Scout and she had rebuilt with her characteristic efficiency—emitting a steady series of confirmation tones. She adjusted the gain, frowning at the readout, then tapped the display with a practiced finger. “Unusual composition. Not just the ferrous deposits I expected.”

Kristen nodded, her medkit hanging at her side with newly cataloged local herbs secured in compartments once reserved for synthesized pharmaceuticals. The worn pocket Bible nestled in her breast pocket was a reassuring presence, its familiar weight a talisman against the alien landscape. Her eyes scanned the ravine’s weathered walls with the automatic threat assessment that had become second nature after the constant drills Wade had put them through.

“Let’s check it out,” she said, her voice calm. “But maintain protocol. This moon’s been too accommodating so far.”

They descended into the ravine with care, each handhold tested before committing their weight. The ravine floor was littered with scree and the occasional larger boulder, evidence of periodic flash floods during whatever passed for this moon’s rainy season.

Mayumi halted so suddenly that Kristen nearly collided with her.

“Contact,” the sensor specialist said, her voice dropping automatically into the clipped professional cadence of a tactical report. “Two o’clock, under that rock overhang. Nonhuman remains.”

Both women drew sidearms simultaneously—the last functioning weapons from the Scout’s armory—and approached in a standard cover formation that would have made their drill instructors nod in grim approval. The overhang Mayumi had indicated loomed fifteen meters ahead, shadowed and still.

The skeleton lay half-emerged from the eroded soil, and Kristen’s breath caught as recognition slammed into her like a kinetic round.

“Skravak,” she whispered, even as Mayumi confirmed with her scanner.

But this was not the nightmare they’d faced in the mining colony’s twisted corridors. The remains were smaller—much smaller—than the monstrosities that had torn through reinforced bulkheads on New Annapolis. Where those had towered easily four meters, this specimen appeared to have stood no more than two meters in height. The distinctive triple antennae were present, as were the segmented limbs terminating in the secondary jaws that still haunted her dreams, but the proportions were… wrong.

“This isn’t natural,” Mayumi murmured, her scanner passing methodically over the remains. “Look at these join points. The bone structure has been modified. These ports along the spinal ridge? Cybernetic interface nodes. And these anomalies in the skeletal density…” She shook her head. “Whoever did this was integrating technology directly into the organism’s developmental matrix.”

Kristen knelt beside the skull, noting the telltale green-blue patina that suggested copper-based compounds in the bone structure, similar to the chitinous armor they’d encountered before. But the bone itself showed microscopic irregularities that nature never produced.

“How old?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

Mayumi’s lips thinned as she studied her readings. “No more than 250 standard years. Might be as recent as a century. Carbon dating’s imprecise with the local isotope ratios, but…”

“Recent enough,” Kristen finished. “This is an adult male, correct? The Skravak we encountered stood at least three, four meters tall. This one’s stunted.”

“Not stunted,” Mayumi corrected, switching scanner modes. “Modified. Look at these growth plate markers. The genetic code was altered to limit size while preserving mass and musculature. It’s like someone was designing a more compact version. More efficient, perhaps, or easier to control.”

“Bio-engineering,” Kristen breathed, the implications cascading through her mind like a tactical projection. “So the ones we encountered weren’t natural either. Someone’s been manipulating the species.”

Mayumi nodded grimly. “And recently. These modifications show a level of genetic engineering beyond anything in the public domain. This is military-grade work, Kris. Black budget stuff.”

Something caught Kristen’s peripheral vision—a flash of light from deeper down the ravine. She froze, hand instinctively moving to signal Mayumi into cover.

Signs of Civilization

“Movement?” Mayumi whispered, scanner already reconfiguring for motion detection.

“Negative. Reflection. Approximately five klicks down the valley.” Kristen raised her field glasses, focusing on the distant glint that had snagged her attention. The image clarified, and she felt her pulse quicken.

“Structure,” she reported tersely. “Massive antenna array, at least six dishes and what looks like a central control node. Definitely manufactured, definitely advanced tech.” She adjusted the magnification, studying the facility. “No visible movement, but those dishes are aligned for deep space communication. And they’re operational—that’s what caught the sunlight. They’re realigning.”

Mayumi’s expression hardened into the focused intensity that had made her one of the Corps’ most valued intelligence officers. “So we’ve got bio-engineered Skravak remains and a communications array that could reach halfway across the sector. This isn’t a coincidence, Kris.”

“No,” Kristen agreed, her voice steady even as her mind raced through scenarios, each more disturbing than the last. “Someone’s been using this moon as a laboratory. And whatever they’re creating, they’re talking to someone about it.”

They exchanged a glance that contained volumes—the weight of discovery, the uncertainty of their position, and the grim determination of trained operatives who understood that knowledge carried responsibility, even stranded light-years from home.

“We need to get back to Wade,” Kristen said, her hand finding the worn edges of her Bible through the fabric of her pocket. “The Lord is the stronghold of my life,” she murmured, “of whom shall I be afraid?” The ancient words steadied her as she took one last look at the Skravak remains—evidence of humanity’s darker capabilities brought to bear on an alien species for purposes she could only begin to imagine.

Mayumi nodded, carefully collecting bone samples and scanner data. “This changes everything.”

They ascended from the ravine with greater urgency than they’d entered it, the sun now casting its dimming rays long across the alien landscape. Behind them lay the silent testimony of scientific atrocity; ahead, the distant gleam of technology that promised answers—and likely more questions. Whatever fate had brought them to this moon, Kristen was increasingly certain it wasn’t mere chance.

And somewhere in that communications array might be the key to understanding not just their predicament and a way home, but a conspiracy that spanned the stars themselves.

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Kingdom Kernel #11 – The Majesty of Humility: Learning from a King’s Repentance

Kingdom Kernel Collection

Daniel 4:34-37 – The Humility and Repentance of a King Who Realizes His Subordination to the King of Kings

34 “But at the end of that period, I, Nebuchadnezzar, raised my eyes toward heaven and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High and praised and honored Him who lives forever;

For His dominion is an everlasting dominion,

And His kingdom endures from generation to generation.

35 “All the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing,

But He does according to His will in the host of heaven

And among the inhabitants of earth;

And no one can ward off His hand

Or say to Him, ‘What have You done?’

36 At that time my reason returned to me. And my majesty and splendor were restored to me for the glory of my kingdom, and my counselors and my nobles began seeking me out; so I was reestablished in my sovereignty, and surpassing greatness was added to me. 37 Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise, exalt and honor the King of heaven, for all His works are true and His ways just, and He is able to humble those who walk in pride.”

(Daniel 4:34-37)

Introduction

In Daniel 4:34-37, we witness a profound transformation in King Nebuchadnezzar as he acknowledges the supreme authority of the Most High God. This passage provides a powerful illustration of the biblical concepts of humility and repentance, particularly in the context of recognizing one’s subordination to the King of kings.

Background and Context

The passage from Daniel 4:34-37 is part of the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament, which recounts events during the Babylonian captivity of the Jewish people (circa 6th century BCE). This specific chapter is a first-person narrative attributed to King Nebuchadnezzar II, the powerful ruler of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, known for his military conquests, including the siege of Jerusalem, and his grand building projects, such as the Hanging Gardens.

In Daniel 4, Nebuchadnezzar describes a divine judgment that led to his humbling. Earlier in the chapter, he recounts a troubling dream of a great tree being cut down, which the prophet Daniel interprets as a warning from God (verses 4-27). The dream foretells that Nebuchadnezzar, due to his pride and failure to acknowledge God’s sovereignty, would lose his sanity and kingdom for a period, living like a beast until he recognizes the Most High as the true ruler over all.

How Nebuchadnezzar Arrived at His Humble State

Nebuchadnezzar’s descent into humility began with his pride and self-exaltation as a ruler who attributed his success solely to his own power (Daniel 4:30). Despite Daniel’s warning to repent and show mercy to the oppressed to avoid judgment (4:27), Nebuchadnezzar did not heed the advice. As a result, God’s judgment came upon him: he was driven from his throne, lost his sanity, and lived like an animal for a set period, often interpreted as seven years (4:31-33).

The passage in verses 34-37 marks the moment of Nebuchadnezzar’s restoration. After the decreed period, he lifts his eyes to heaven, signifying repentance and acknowledgment of God’s supreme authority. His reason returns, and he praises God, recognizing His eternal dominion and justice. Consequently, God restores Nebuchadnezzar’s sanity, kingdom, and even greater glory, leading him to proclaim God’s ability to humble the proud.

This narrative underscores themes of divine sovereignty, the consequences of pride, and the power of repentance, with Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation serving as a testimony to God’s ultimate authority over earthly rulers.

Linguistic Analysis

The Hebrew word for “humble” used in Daniel 4:37 is שְׁפַל (shᵉphal, Strong’s H8214), which means to bring low or abase. This term emphasizes the action of lowering oneself or being brought low by an external force. In contrast, “pride” is derived from גֵּוָה (geʼvah, Strong’s H1466), signifying majesty or arrogance.

The phrase “my reason returned to me” in verses 34 and 36 uses the Aramaic word מַנְדַּע (mandaʻ, Strong’s H4486), which denotes knowledge or understanding. This return of reason signifies a spiritual awakening and recognition of divine sovereignty.

Theological Significance

The Nature of True Humility

True humility, as exemplified by Jesus Christ, involves a correct understanding of one’s position in relation to God. Jesus, though equal with God, “humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8). This perfect example of humility demonstrates that it is not about self-deprecation, but about recognizing God’s supreme authority and aligning oneself with His will.

Repentance as a Response to Divine Revelation

Nebuchadnezzar’s experience illustrates how divine revelation can lead to repentance. When his “reason returned,” he recognized the Most High God’s sovereignty, leading to a dramatic change in his attitude and actions. This mirrors the Christian experience of conversion, where the Holy Spirit brings conviction and leads to repentance.

Implications for Understanding the Kingdom of God

God’s Sovereignty Over Earthly Kingdoms

The passage emphasizes God’s eternal dominion and His authority over all earthly rulers. This concept is central to understanding the Kingdom of God, which transcends and supersedes all human kingdoms.

The Transformative Power of Humility

Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation from pride to humility demonstrates the power of God to change even the most arrogant heart. This change is a key aspect of entering and participating in God’s Kingdom, as Jesus taught, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3).

Christological Fulfillment

Jesus Christ, as the perfect embodiment of humility, fulfills and exemplifies the principles seen in Nebuchadnezzar’s experience. His life, death, and resurrection demonstrate the ultimate submission to God’s will and the exaltation that follows true humility.

Conclusion

The concepts of humility and repentance, as illustrated in Daniel 4:34-37, are foundational to understanding our relationship with the King of kings. By following Christ’s example of perfect humility, believers can experience the transformative power of God’s kingdom and participate in His eternal reign.

Disciple-Maker’s Short Story

The Weight of Grace

The morning dew clung to the grass like tiny crystals, catching the first rays of sunlight as Jeremy and Manny made their way along the park’s winding trail. Their breathing had settled after their run, but Jeremy could sense an unusual tension in his mentor’s silence. They stopped at a wooden bench overlooking a small pond, where a family of ducks glided across the still water.

“Your teaching last night,” Manny began, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve got good insights, Jeremy. But I noticed something that reminded me of my younger self.”

Jeremy felt his shoulders tighten. He’d been proud of last night’s discussion on spiritual disciplines. The group had been engaged, taking notes, nodding along. “What do you mean?”

Manny watched the ducks for a moment. “Do you remember the story of Nebuchadnezzar?”

“The king who lost his mind and ate grass?” Jeremy shifted on the bench. “Sure, but what’s that got to do with—”

“He was brilliant, capable, successful,” Manny continued. “Built mighty Babylon. But he forgot something crucial: where his authority came from.” He turned to face Jeremy. “Last night, when Sarah tried to share her perspective on contemplative prayer, you shut her down pretty quickly.”

The memory made Jeremy wince. He’d dismissed her contribution as “too mystical,” asserting that his more structured approach was clearly biblical.

“I was just trying to keep things doctrinally sound,” he defended, but the words felt hollow as they left his mouth.

“Like Nebuchadnezzar, we can become so convinced of our own wisdom that we forget who the real King is.” Manny’s voice carried no judgment, only compassion. “Jesus, who had all authority, chose to wash feet. To listen to the overlooked. To guide with questions and self discovery.”

The morning breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and Jeremy found himself thinking of Jesus’ parables about seeds and growth—how the Kingdom often came through gentle nurture rather than force.

“I thought being a strong leader meant having all the answers,” Jeremy admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s not really like Jesus at all, is it?”

Manny smiled. “The strongest trees bend with the wind, brother. Real authority, like Jesus showed us, comes from serving, from creating space for others to grow.” He patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “It’s not about having an iron fist, but about having an open hand.”

Jeremy watched a young duck break away from its family, experimenting with its own path before rejoining the group. He thought about Sarah’s uncommon insight, about other voices he might have silenced without realizing it.

“I want to be more like Him,” Jeremy said finally. “More like Jesus. But I guess that means I need to do some unlearning first.”

“That’s the beauty of grace,” Manny replied, standing up. “It gives us room to grow, to fail, to learn. Just like you give your church members that same grace.” He gestured toward the trail ahead. “Ready for another lap?”

Jeremy nodded, feeling somehow both humbled and lifted up. As they resumed their walk, the morning sun warming their shoulders, he began to see his role differently—not as a ruler of his small kingdom, but as a servant in a far greater one.

Kingdom Kernel Collection

The Calling – Chapter 32 – Mining the Conspiracy

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“The getting of treasures by a lying tongue is a fleeting vapor and a snare of death.”

Proverbs 21:6

Intelligence Treasure Trove

The Stellar Scout hung like a wraith amid the shattered husks of the debris field, its matte-black stealth coating drinking in the feeble starlight that dared to pierce this desolate reach of the galaxy. The twisted remnants of forgotten battles drifted lazily past, jagged silhouettes against the faint shimmer of a distant nebula. Inside the cramped command deck, the air buzzed with the hum of electronics and the unspoken tension of a crew teetering on the edge of a decision that could ripple through the war-torn stars.

Wade hunched over the tactical display, his synthetic fingers dancing across the controls as he fine-tuned the feed. The holographic projection flickered, then stabilized, revealing the Skravak repair base in all its menacing glory—a grotesque lattice of alien metallurgy, half-entombed in the skeletal remains of derelict hulks. Its spires jutted like claws, grasping at the void, and Wade’s gut tightened at the sight. He’d seen Skravak outposts before, but this one felt… wrong. Too quiet. Too deliberate.

“Movement detected,” Mayumi’s voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and precise as a laser scalpel. She leaned forward in her sensor station, her almond eyes narrowing as she parsed the incoming data. “The Transapora is pulling into dock.”

Every head snapped to the main viewscreen, the Confederation freighter filled the display, its massive, utilitarian bulk a stark contrast to the predatory elegance of the Skravak base. The Transapora was a leviathan of commerce—blocky, unlovely, and painted in the muted grays of the Confederation Merchant Fleet—yet here it was, gliding toward the alien dock with a grace that belied its tonnage. Its running lights blinked in slow, methodical patterns, and the faint shimmer of its maneuvering thrusters cast ghostly reflections off the surrounding debris.

“They’re taking on fuel,” Jay muttered, his fingers hovering over the helm controls like a pianist poised for a crescendo. His brow creased as he studied the freighter’s approach vector. “But why here? Why now? This isn’t some backwater refueling stop.”

Wade’s mind churned, a storm of possibilities battering his thoughts. He straightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he turned to face his crew. “We’ve got a choice to make,” he said, his baritone steady but edged with steel. “The destroyer’s still out there, prowling the perimeter. We could follow it when it breaks orbit—stick to the original plan. Or…” He gestured toward the Transapora on the screen. “We shadow that freighter and figure out what in the world it’s doing cozying up to the Skravak.”

Kristen crossed her arms, her lean frame taut with unease as she studied the image. Her dark eyes flicked from the freighter to the alien base and back again, her lips pressing into a thin line. “A Confederation freighter this far out raises too many questions,” she said, her voice low and measured. “The destroyer’s just doing its job—patrolling, sniffing for trouble. But that ship…” She shook her head, a strand of black hair escaping her tight bun. “It’s not supposed to be here. No trade routes, no resupply lanes, nothing. What’s it hauling in Skravak space?”

“Exactly,” Wade agreed, his gaze locking with hers. “The destroyer’s a known quantity—Skravak muscle flexing for the sector. But the Transapora? That’s a wild card. It might lead us to something bigger—supply lines, black-market deals, maybe even a traitor in the Confederation ranks.”

Mayumi swiveled her chair to face them, her fingers still poised over her console. “If we’re going to Command with this, we need more than a hunch,” she cautioned, her tone clipped but not dismissive. “Intel has to be actionable—timely and accurate—or it’s just noise. Following the Transapora could give us the meat we need, but it’s a gamble. We lose the destroyer, and we might miss a tactical shift in their patrol patterns.”

Jay snorted, leaning back in his seat with a wry grin. “Yeah, and if we stick with the destroyer, we might just end up chasing our tails while that freighter waltzes off with the real prize. I say we take the shot—follow the Transapora. My gut’s screaming there’s more to this than fuel cells and spare parts.”

“Your gut’s been almost always right,” Kristen affirmed, though her tone encouraging. She tapped a finger against her forearm, her mind clearly racing. “Still… you can see how neat this feels. A Confederation ship docking with the Skravak like it’s a scheduled pit stop? That’s not sloppy smuggling—that’s coordination.”

Wade nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then we’re agreed. The Transapora’s our mark. Mayumi, prep an intel burst for Command—everything we’ve got so far. Skravak base coordinates, the freighter’s ID, docking timestamp, the works. Flag it priority alpha—Command needs to know what we’re chasing and why.”

Mayumi’s hands flew across her console, her movements a blur of efficiency. “Composing now,” she said, her voice tight with focus. “Skravak repair base at grid Zulu-Niner-Four, confirmed active. Confederation freighter Transapora, registry CFM-4472, docked at 0317 hours galactic standard. Observed fueling operation, no visible escort. Intent to pursue and report further findings.” She paused, glancing up at Wade. “Adding our positional data and a request for backup if this turns hot. Encryption’s set—quantum key’s cycling—but the relay’s going to be dicey this deep in the debris field. We’re relying on the tight-beam buoy at the sector edge, and it’s a long haul to Command.”

“How long?” Wade pressed, his voice betraying a flicker of impatience.

“Best case, eight days,” Mayumi replied, her expression grim. “Worst case, twelve—if the buoy’s compromised or the signal scatters. We’ll be on our own until then.”

“Too long,” Jay muttered, his grin fading. “If that freighter’s carrying what I think it is, twelve days could see it vanish into some Skravak bolt-hole—or worse, link up with a battle group we can’t handle.”

“Then we don’t let it out of our sight,” Wade said firmly, uncrossing his arms and stepping toward the tactical display. “Jay, when she moves plot a shadow course—keep us in their baffles, low-emission profile. We stay ghosts until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Got it,” Jay replied, his fingers diving into the helm controls. The Stellar Scout’s engines thrummed faintly as he began calculating vectors, threading a needle through the debris field to trail the Transapora without tripping its sensors. “Course laid in—ready to move when she does.”

Wade watched the freighter on the viewscreen, its hull now kissed by the faint blue glow of Skravak fuel conduits snaking into its ports. His pulse quickened, a mix of adrenaline and dread coiling in his chest. “Send the report, Mayumi,” he ordered. “And let’s pray that it hits Command’s desk before this blows up in our faces.”

Mayumi tapped the transmit key, and a faint chirp confirmed the burst had launched into the void. “Sent,” she said, exhaling sharply. “Now we wait—and hope the buoy’s still in one piece.”

The crew fell silent, the weight of their choice settling over them like a shroud. The Transapora loomed on the screen, an enigma wrapped in Confederation colors, and beyond it, the Skravak base pulsed with alien menace. Whatever lay ahead, the Stellar Scout was committed now—adrift in the echoes of the void, chasing shadows that might just lead them to salvation… or doom.

Heading to No Where

Hours bled into one another on the command deck steeped in a silence so thick it seemed to hum against the bulkheads. The crew watched the Transapora with predatory focus, their breaths shallow, their nerves taut as monofilament wire. The Confederation freighter hung in the void, its fueling complete, its hull now sealed and gleaming under the Skravak base’s eerie indigo glow. Then, without warning, its engines flared—a sudden bloom of plasma that lit the debris field like a supernova’s echo. The massive ship pivoted with ponderous grace and surged forward, carving a path through the wreckage.

“She’s moving,” Jay announced, his voice a low growl of anticipation. His hands danced over the helm, coaxing the Stellar Scout from its hiding place among the derelict husks. The scout ship slipped into the freighter’s wake, a shadow trailing its prey, its stealth systems purring as they masked its emissions. “Matching velocity—keeping us in her baffles. They won’t see us unless they’re looking hard.”

“Good,” Wade replied, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen. “Stay sharp. We don’t know where she’s headed—or what’s waiting.”

The Transapora didn’t disappoint. It executed a series of precise hyperspace jumps, each one a calculated plunge into the uncharted abyss beyond Confederation borders. The Stellar Scout followed, its own jump drive whining under the strain as Jay threaded them through the quantum eddies left in the freighter’s wake. With every transition, the stars shifted, their patterns growing stranger, more alien, until the familiar constellations of charted space were little more than a memory. Wade felt the weight of isolation pressing in, a cold hand on the back of his neck. They were far from home now—far from reinforcements, far from anything resembling safety.

Arriving at Answers

At last, the freighter’s final jump spat them out above a planet that looked like a wound in the cosmos. Its surface was a mottled expanse of rust-red and ochre, scarred by swirling dust storms that churned with savage fury. Bands of grayish haze streaked its atmosphere, and jagged peaks thrust upward like the broken teeth of some long-dead beast. The Transapora didn’t hesitate—it angled downward, its descent a pre-programmed ballet of thrusters and stabilizers, cutting through the turbulent skies toward a landing zone lost in the haze.

“Designated KX-19,” Mayumi said, her voice clipped as she pulled up the scant data from the scout’s databanks. “No official Confed record—just a survey marker from a probe flyby decades ago. No life signs detected.” She paused, her fingers hovering over the sensor controls as the readings refined. “But there’s activity down there. Massive energy signatures—thermal plumes, electromagnetic spikes. It’s… mining operations, but on a scale I’ve never seen. And it’s all automated. AI-driven, no biological signatures anywhere.”

Wade’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath his stubble. “AI mining on an uncharted rock, serviced by a Confed freighter in Skravak space? That’s not a coincidence—it’s part of the conspiracy, I’m sure of it.” He turned to his crew, his decision crystallizing. “We need eyes on the ground. Jay, prep the Badger for drop. Kristen, you’re with me. Mayumi, take us down within ten clicks from the nearest structure to drop the Badger, keep low and bring the Scout back to low orbit—watch the Transapora and scream if anything changes.”

“Badger’s hot in five,” Jay said, already unstrapping from his seat and heading for the shuttle bay. “I’ll get you all close enough to read serial numbers—assuming I don’t have too much fun gettin’ you there.”

Kristen shot him a dry look as she grabbed her gear. “Try not to. I’d hate to walk back.”

The descent through KX-19’s atmosphere was a brutal gauntlet. The Badger—a squat, armored hovercraft built for punishment—shuddered as Jay punched the accelerator and it shot off the back ramp of the Scout into roiling clouds of rust-colored dust. Winds howled against its hull, clawing at the stabilizers, but Jay’s hands were steady on the controls, his piloting a masterclass in precision. Wade gripped the co-pilot’s chair, his stomach lurching as the craft bucked, while Kristen braced herself in the troop bay, her rifle already slung across her chest. The viewscreen flickered with static, then cleared as they broke through the storm layer, revealing the structures ahead.

It was a mechanical cacophony. A sprawling network of drills, conveyors, and processing plants stretched to the horizon, their skeletal forms illuminated by the dull red glow of the planet’s sun filtering through the haze. Towering rigs plunged into the earth, their rhythmic hammering a low thunder that vibrated through the Badger’s frame. Conveyor belts snaked across the terrain, ferrying heaps of glittering ore to cyclopean smelters that belched plumes of acrid smoke. Drones flitted through the air—sleek, insect-like machines with no markings, their movements synchronized to a fault. Everything operated with cold, relentless precision, a symphony of automation devoid of a single human hand.

“She touched down two klicks east,” Jay reported, nodding toward the Transapora’s landing site as he eased the Badger into a controlled hover. The freighter squatted amid the chaos, its cargo bay yawning open as a swarm of loader drones began unloading crates stamped with Confederation seals. “Looks like she’s offloading fast—whatever they’re hauling, they don’t want it sitting long.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. “Ore’s one thing, but those crates… that’s not raw material. That’s processed—maybe weapons-grade.” He unbuckled his harness and stood, his voice hardening. “Take us behind that ridge, Jay. We’re going in close. I want to know what the Skravak and the Confed are cooking up down here—and why it’s worth hiding from the galaxy.”

Jay grinned, a flash of teeth against his dark skin. “On it boss.” The Badger skimmed the terrain until it settled behind a jagged outcrop of rock, its engines winding down to a whisper. Dust swirled around them, settling slowly in the thin atmosphere as the hatch hissed open.

Wade was first out, his boots crunching against the gritty soil as he swept the area with his rifle’s scope. “Clear,” he called, his voice coming across the comms in Kristen’s helmet. “But stay low—these drones might not care about us, but I’d rather not test their programming.”

Kristen followed, her own weapon at the ready, her gaze locked on the distant Transapora. Beyond the freighter, the mining complex pulsed with activity, its AI overseers oblivious—or indifferent—to the intruders in their midst. Whatever secrets this planet held, they were buried deep in that ore—and in the shadowed alliance that had brought a Confederation ship to this forsaken rock. The Stellar Scout’s crew had chased the Transapora this far; now, it was time to peel back the void’s veil and see what lay beneath.

Kristen crouched low behind a rusted ore hauler, her scanner humming softly as it drank in the machine’s secrets. “This tech,” she said, her voice a mix of awe and unease, “it’s Confederation-derived, no question. But it’s… mutated. The servos, the power grid—it’s like it’s been rewriting itself for decades, adapting to this dust-choked rock without a human hand to guide it.” Her fingers traced the air above the hauler’s hull, following the faint glow of her holo-display as it mapped the machine’s innards: a lattice of self-repairing circuits and fractal energy conduits that no sane engineer would’ve dreamed up.

Wade grunted, his eyes narrow as he swept his pulse rifle’s scope across the barren landscape. The mining facility sprawled before them like a mechanical cancer—towering smelters belching plumes of ash, conveyors grinding endlessly under their own inscrutable logic, and skeletal cranes clawing at the sky. “No human’s ever set foot here,” he muttered, his voice taut with the certainty of a man who’d seen these things before. “This is all automated. A ghost op running on borrowed time and stolen blueprints. Whoever—whatever—built this didn’t want us poking around.”

Compromised

Before Kristen could reply, a piercing wail shredded the stillness—an alarm, sharp and synthetic, rising from the facility’s core like the scream of a wounded beast. Wade’s comm crackled to life, Mayumi’s voice cutting through the static: “Skravak sentinel drones incoming! Multiple contacts—bearing two-seven-zero, closing fast!”

Wade snapped his rifle to his shoulder, his posture shifting from wary observer to predator in an instant. “Back to the Badger!” he roared, his boots kicking up clouds of reddish dust as he broke into a sprint. Kristen fell in beside him, she dropped her scanner to dangle on a short lanyard as she drew her sidearm—a compact plasma pistol that whined as it charged. Sleek, predatory shapes breached the horizon: Skravak mech drones, their hulls glinting like obsidian under the weak sun, their weapon ports already glowing with the promise of death.

The air ignited with the hiss and snap of plasma bolts, each shot a streak of violet fire that seared the ground where they’d stood moments before. One bolt grazed a nearby hauler, slagging its flank into molten ruin; another punched a fist-sized hole through a conveyor strut, sending sparks cascading like a meteor shower. Wade fired on the move, his pulse rifle barking in controlled bursts—each shot a pinpoint of blue-white energy that splashed harmlessly against the drones’ shields. “What?” he snarled under his breath. “Didn’t even scratch it!”

They dove into the Badger’s hatch, the air thrumming with the basso growl of its engines. Jay had the ship prepped and roaring. “Go, go, go!” Wade bellowed, slamming the hatch control. The Badger lurched forward with a bone-rattling shudder, its thrusters screaming as Jay poured every ounce of power weaving in between mining apparatus to throw the drones off.

They swarmed after them, a pack of mechanical wolves nipping at their heels. Their weapons fire stitched a deadly pattern across the Badger’s hull—plasma rounds and kinetic penetrators leaving blackened scars and hairline fractures in the ceramsteel plating. Jay threw the ship into a series of gut-churning evasions, banking hard and spiraling through the thinning dusty surface like a madman dancing on a razor’s edge. A drone’s missile streaked past, detonating in a fireball that rocked the Badger and sent a cascade of warning icons across the cockpit displays.

“They’re too fast!” Kristen shouted, bracing herself against a bulkhead as the deck bucked beneath her. “We can’t shake them!”

Wade stabbed a finger at the comm panel, his voice a whipcrack of command. “Mayumi! We need extraction—now!”

The Stellar Scout’s reply was immediate—a shadow falling across the sky as the larger ship dropped from its overwatch orbit, its hull scarred but unbowed one foot off the ground. The back ramp yawned open like the maw of some ancient leviathan, a beacon of salvation amid the chaos. Jay’s hands gripped over the controls, his jaw clenched tight as he lined up the approach. “Hold onto something!” he yelled, and then the Badger dove for it, threading a needle no sane pilot would attempt. Metal screamed as the smaller ship grazed the Scout’s bay edges, shedding paint and a shower of sparks before slamming home with a jolt that threw Wade and Kristen to the deck.

Steel Away

The ramp slammed shut, and the Scout’s engines roared to full power, clawing for orbit as the drones peppered its hull with desperate parting shots. Jay found his way to the nav/comms seat and took control of the Scout. Mayumi was only too glad to relinquish command to the superior pilot. Armor plating buckled under the barrage, and a proximity alert wailed as a plasma salvo grazed the starboard nacelle, sending a tremor through the ship’s frame. “Jumping in 3… 2… 1…” Jay called out, his voice steady despite the chaos.

The universe twisted as hyperspace engulfed them, the familiar gut-punch of transition silencing the alarms for a blessed moment. Then reality snapped back, and the command control station glowed an ominous red under emergency lighting. Damage reports scrolled across every screen: hull breaches sealed by auto-foam, power conduits overloaded, and a dozen minor systems flickering on the edge of failure. The Badger, nestled in the Scout’s bay, groaned like a wounded animal, its hull pocked and smoking.

Wade dragged himself to his feet, his breath ragged as he met Kristen’s wide-eyed stare. Sweat streaked her face, and her hand still gripped the plasma pistol like a lifeline. They’d escaped—barely—but the cost was etched in the shuddering deck beneath them and the flickering displays overhead. “What on earth was the Transpora doing there?” Kristen whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of what they’d seen.

Wade shook his head, his mind racing as he stowed his rifle. “Something to do with the conspiracy I’m sure. And the whole planet was…automated. Something similar but beyond our tech. And something that didn’t want us snooping around.” He glanced at the scrolling damage logs, then back at her. “We’ve kicked a hornet’s nest, Kris. Question is, how important is this—and what’s it hiding?”

The adrenaline ebbed, leaving a cold clarity in its wake. They’d survived, but survival was just the opening salvo. Whatever lay buried in that forsaken mining world, it was no mere relic. It was alive, in its own way—and it had secrets that could reshape everything they thought they knew. The real fight, Wade realized, was now assessing the Scout’s flight worthiness and getting the intel back to command.

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I’d Rather Be Humble than Be Humbled – #112

ENGLISH / ESPAÑOL

Welcome Back! Today, we’ll be looking at the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke to see how Jesus addressed Peter’s pride and lack of insight into the ways of God.

So let’s get started.

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Matthew 16:21–23, Mark 8:31-33, Luke 9:22

From that time on Jesus began to teach and show His disciples that He, the Son of Man, must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be rejected by them and that He must be killed and on the third day be raised to life. He spoke this message quite frankly, and Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him. “Far be it from You, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to You!” But Jesus, turning and looking at His disciples, rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind Me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to Me. For you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.”

My Thoughts

Peter would later write this promise and warning in his first epistle;

You younger men, likewise, be subject to your elders; and all of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, for GOD IS OPPOSED TO THE PROUD, BUT GIVES GRACE TO THE HUMBLE. Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time…

1 Peter 5:5-6

He had experience. He knew what it was like to go from hero to zero in a matter of minutes. Just a minute earlier he was being blessed by his Master and the next he was labeled one of the worst villains in the universe; Satan. Yes, Peter warns us from his own combat experience, “Take it from me, humble yourself because when God humbles you, it ain’t pretty.”

Here’s five indicators of true humility;

Self-Aware: A humble person recognizes their strengths and weaknesses without arrogance or self-deprecation, staying grounded in who they are. Pride can come in two forms – elevating oneself or putting oneself down. Both are focused on self. (Romans 12:3)
Grateful: They express appreciation for what they have and give credit to others, rather than acting entitled or self-focused. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)
Teachable: They listen, accept feedback, and admit mistakes, showing they don’t claim to have all the answers. (Proverbs 12:15)
Others Focused: They prioritize others’ needs or perspectives with kindness and respect, not for recognition but out of genuine care. (Philippians 2:3-4)
Generous: Humble individuals give freely—of their time, resources, or support—without expecting anything in return, reflecting a lack of ego in their actions. (Luke 6:38)

My Story

I was in the Chaplain’s Basic Course as a brand new chaplain but not a brand new soldier. I had already served as an infantryman for 19 years. I knew I needed to enter into this new phase of my career with some humility but the obstacle course got the better of me. With a spirit of competition and pride swelling in my chest, I attacked each obstacle like I was 19 years old. One problem, I was actually 38! I did finish the course in record time and showed I was the man…with two broken ribs and a wacked out spine. I didn’t let on that I was in pain at the moment of my “grand victory.” But the next morning standing in formation with all my fellow chaplains, I crumpled to the ground in pain. They had to physically carry me to the ER. Pride comes before the fall…and pain.

Tisk, tisk. I keep reminding myself; “humble yourself before you get humbled…under the mighty hand of God.”

Our Action Plan

Now it’s time for application. Here’s some ideas;

Study the Bible to find instances where Jesus’ disciples acted arrogantly and note His response or actions.
Share the insights from your Bible study with those you are mentoring.
Take time in church to confess prideful behaviors in your lives.

There is great safety in the bunker of humility. Let’s learn from Peter’s combat experience and dodge those “Pride Mines.”

Prefiero ser humilde que humillado – #112

¡Bienvenidos de nuevo! Hoy analizaremos los Evangelios de Mateo, Marcos y Lucas para ver cómo Jesús abordó el orgullo de Pedro y su falta de comprensión de los caminos de Dios.

¡Comencemos!

Mateo 16:21-23, Marcos 8:31-33, Lucas 9:22

Desde entonces, Jesús comenzó a enseñar y a mostrar a sus discípulos que él, el Hijo del Hombre, debía ir a Jerusalén y sufrir mucho a manos de los ancianos, los principales sacerdotes y los escribas, y ser rechazado por ellos, y que debía ser ejecutado y resucitar al tercer día. Les habló con toda franqueza, y Pedro lo tomó aparte y comenzó a reprenderlo. «¡Lejos de ti, Señor! —dijo—. ¡Esto nunca te sucederá!». Pero Jesús, volviéndose y mirando a sus discípulos, reprendió a Pedro y le dijo: «¡Quítate de delante de mí, Satanás! Me eres tropiezo. Porque no piensas en las cosas de Dios, sino en las de los hombres».

Mis Pensamientos

Pedro escribiría más tarde esta promesa y advertencia en su primera epístola:

Ustedes, jóvenes, igualmente, estén sujetos a sus ancianos; y todos, revístanse de humildad unos con otros, porque Dios se opone a los soberbios, pero da gracia a los humildes. Humíllense, pues, bajo la poderosa mano de Dios, para que él los exalte a su debido tiempo…

1 Pedro 5:5-6

Él tenía experiencia. Sabía lo que era pasar de héroe a cero en cuestión de minutos. Un minuto antes estaba siendo bendecido por su Maestro y al siguiente era etiquetado como uno de los peores villanos del universo: Satanás. Sí, Pedro nos advierte desde su propia experiencia de combate: «Créanme, humíllense, porque cuando Dios los humilla, no es agradable».

Aquí hay cinco indicadores de verdadera humildad:

Consciente de sí mismo: Una persona humilde reconoce sus fortalezas y debilidades sin arrogancia ni autodesprecio, manteniéndose firme en su identidad. El orgullo puede manifestarse de dos maneras: enalteciéndose o despreciándose. Ambas se centran en uno mismo. (Romanos 12:3)

Agradecido: Expresa su aprecio por lo que tiene y reconoce el mérito de los demás, en lugar de actuar con presunción o egocentrismo. (1 Tesalonicenses 5:18)

Educable: Escucha, acepta la retroalimentación y admite sus errores, demostrando que no pretende tener todas las respuestas. (Proverbios 12:15)

Enfocado en los demás: Prioriza las necesidades o perspectivas de los demás con amabilidad y respeto, no buscando reconocimiento, sino por un interés genuino. (Filipenses 2:3-4)

Generoso: Las personas humildes dan libremente —de su tiempo, recursos o apoyo— sin esperar nada a cambio, lo que refleja una falta de ego en sus acciones. (Lucas 6:38)

Mi Historia

Estaba en el Curso Básico de Capellán como capellán flamante, pero no como soldado novato. Ya había servido como soldado de infantería durante 19 años. Sabía que debía afrontar esta nueva etapa de mi carrera con humildad, pero la carrera de obstáculos me venció. Con un espíritu de competencia y un orgullo que me inundaba el pecho, afronté cada obstáculo como si tuviera 19 años. ¡Un problema, tenía 38! Terminé el curso en tiempo récord y demostré que era el hombre… con dos costillas rotas y la columna vertebral destrozada. No dejé entrever el dolor que sentía en el momento de mi “gran victoria”. Pero a la mañana siguiente, en formación con todos mis compañeros capellanes, me desplomé en el suelo de dolor. Tuvieron que cargarme físicamente a urgencias. El orgullo precede a la caída… y al dolor.

Tic, tic. Sigo recordándome a mí mismo: “Humíllate antes de ser humillado… bajo la poderosa mano de Dios”.

Nuestro Plan de Acción

Ahora es momento de aplicarlo. Aquí tienes algunas ideas:

Estudia la Biblia para encontrar ejemplos de cómo los discípulos de Jesús actuaron con arrogancia y observa su respuesta o acciones.

Comparte las enseñanzas de tu estudio bíblico con tus mentores.

Dedica tiempo en la iglesia a confesar comportamientos orgullosos en tu vida.

Hay gran seguridad en el refugio de la humildad. Aprendamos de la experiencia de combate de Pedro y evitemos esas minas del orgullo.

Si ve un problema importante en la traducción, envíeme una corrección por correo electrónico a charleswood1@gmail.com

The Calling – Chapter 31: Chariots of Fire

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

“Now when the attendant of the man of God had risen early and gone out, behold, an army with horses and chariots was circling the city. And his servant said to him, “Alas, my master! What shall we do?” So he answered, “Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” Then Elisha prayed and said, “O LORD, I pray, open his eyes that he may see.” And the LORD opened the servant’s eyes and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. When they came down to him, Elisha prayed to the LORD and said, “Strike this people with blindness, I pray.” So He struck them with blindness according to the word of Elisha.”

2 Kings 6:15-18

The Hunt Interrupted

The Stellar Scout F290 leapt into hyperspace, its fusion drives humming as it chased The Transapora’s course into the void. Wade Kovacs settled into the navigator’s chair, the glow of the tactical display reflecting in his eyes. Rephidim-5’s red dust and desperate settlers faded into memory, replaced by the weight of Elkiah’s warning—a rogue freighter spiriting ore to unknown ends. The crew buzzed with purpose, their faith bolstered by the fledgling church they’d left behind. Kristen’s quiet prayer lingered in the air, a steady anchor as they plunged deeper into uncharted space. Jay adjusted their course with his usual precision, while Mayumi pored over manifests, hunting for clues in the freighter’s cryptic path. Hours blurred into days, the ship’s rhythm—shifts, drills, scripture—a lifeline against the endless black. They were hunters now, tracking shadows with a higher calling. Exhaustion crept in, and Wade finally surrendered to sleep, trusting Jay’s steady hands at the helm.

The rhythmic hum of the twin engines had lulled Wade into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he was back on Earth, walking through a sun-dappled forest with Kristen by his side, the scent of pine and her laughter filling the air. Suddenly, he was back at Ranger school in a live fire with the Skravaks. He jolted awake as the ship’s warning system sliced through his subconscious like a jagged blade, ripping him from his dreams back to reality.”

Wade’s eyes snapped open, his body tensing as he reached for his data pad beside the bunk. The soft blue lighting of his individual berth had switched to a pulsing red glow, casting eerie shadows across the compact space. The clever storage solutions—recessed shelves and fold-out panels—that usually made the crew quarters feel spacious now seemed to close in around him, the walls vibrating faintly with the ship’s growing urgency.

“Warning. Skravak vessel detected. All personnel report to battle stations immediately,” the ship’s AI announced, its synthetic calm a jarring counterpoint to the chaos bleeding through the hull.

Wade’s heart thudded as he threw off his covers and grabbed his flight suit from the locker. He yanked on his boots, the Skravak name igniting a phantom ache in his titanium hand. His mind lurched back to that day—two years ago, pinned in the waste hatch of a Skravak derelict. He’d been last out, adrenaline pumping after the Argus had been ambushed. The hatch had been their escape, a rusted maw they’d pried open. He could still hear the hiss of his suit sealing, feel the cold metal brushing his glove—then the scream of hydraulics as the AI rebooted. The hatch slammed shut, shearing through flesh and bone, his arm a mangled ruin spurting crimson into the void. Jay’s hands had clamped his sleeve, Bikram’s desperate blow severing the last threads, the shuttle’s corpsmen a blur as the freighter exploded behind them. That day, vengeance had burned in him—a Ranger’s rage at the Skravaks’ cold efficiency. Now, as the destroyer closed in, fear clawed at that old wound—not for himself, but for Kristen, Jay, Mayumi. What if he lost them to this unforgiving enemy? The blare of the ship’s alarm snapped him back to the present.

Red Alert Rising

“How close?” he barked at the AI, his voice rough with sleep and adrenaline.

“Skravak vessel is approximately 50,000 kilometers and closing rapidly,” the AI replied, its tone maddeningly even.

He stumbled into the narrow corridor, nearly colliding with Kristen, who clutched her medical kit with white-knuckled hands. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, her hazel eyes sharp despite the tension etched into her posture. “CCS?” she said, using the military shorthand for the Central Command Station. Wade nodded, and they sprinted down the passage, boots clanging against the metal deck.

The CCS door hissed open, revealing a scene of controlled pandemonium. Jay Ringler hunched over the pilot’s station, his wiry frame taut as his hands darted across the controls, adjusting thruster outputs with practiced precision. Mayumi Ringler sat in the nav/comms seat, her face illuminated by the flickering light of holographic displays, her fingers a blur as she parsed incoming data. The cockpit’s tight, two-person configuration kept everything within arm’s reach—just as Lieutenant Commander Goering had promised during their grueling training sims back at Command.

“Status report,” Wade demanded, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the ship shuddered faintly—likely Jay tweaking their course.

“Skravak destroyer on an intercept course,” Jay said, eyes locked on his screen, his voice clipped but steady. “It’s taken a beating already—sensor array’s partially fried, probably from a recent scrap. Closing fast, though.”

Wade leaned over the tactical display, its 3D projection between Jay and Mayumi painting the enemy ship in stark reds and oranges—a hulking, predatory silhouette bristling with weapon ports. “How bad’s the damage?”

“Their long-range active scans are crippled,” Mayumi said, her Japanese accent sharpening as she focused. Her fingers danced over the interface, pulling up a diagnostic overlay. “They’re leaning hard on passive sensors and visuals—closing in to compensate for the blind spots.”

Wade’s mind raced, snagging on a memory from high school history class—old submarine tactics, vessels lurking silent on the ocean floor while destroyers rained depth charges from above. A flicker of an idea took root. “Jay, how’s our EMP capacitor?”

Jay glanced up, a spark of realization in his hazel eyes. “Fully charged—been sitting at max since our last resupply. You thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

Wade’s lips curled into a grim smile. “We hit them with an EMP, drop to that planet’s surface”—he jabbed a finger at a rocky, storm-lashed world spinning slowly on the display—”deploy decoys, and go dark. Like subs in the old wars, waiting out the hunters.”

Faith vs Flight

“EMP, decoys, and hide?” Jay spun in his seat, hazel eyes narrowing. “We’ve got hyperspace juice—why not jump now, outrun them?” His fingers hovered over the controls, itching to act.

“Submarines?” Kristen asked, arching an eyebrow as she slung her med kit over her shoulder.

“Read about it in school.” Wade said, the memory sharpening. “They’d sink to the bottom, kill all systems but the bare minimum, and sit tight while the enemy pounded the water. If the Skravaks think we’re slag, they might leave—or better yet, lead us somewhere useful.”

Mayumi’s head snapped up from her console. “Their intercept speed’s too high—43,000 klicks and closing. They’d catch us mid-jump, shred us before we’re gone.”

Kristen frowned, slinging her med kit tighter. “What about a distress call? Command could scramble backup—we’re not equipped for this.”

Wade’s jaw tightened, Elkiah’s datapad flashing in his mind—rogue ore shipments, shadows in the void. “No signal,” he said. “We’re too deep, and this ties to The Transapora. We run, we lose the lead. We fight smart instead.” He tapped the display, the planet’s storms swirling below. “EMP blinds them and then we drop, go dark. Old sub tactics and we’ll outlast the hunter.”

Jay scoffed, tension cracking his bravado. “Your history hunch better pan out, boss. One pulse misfire, we’re toast.”

“More are with us than with them,” Wade shot back, voice steady, echoing 2 Kings 6:16. “We’ve got the edge—faith and tech. They’re crippled already.”

Mayumi nodded, numbers aligning in her head. “Their sensors are shaky—an EMP could finish them.”

Kristen exhaled. “Risky, but I’m in. Let’s move.”

Wade met their eyes—doubt lingered, but trust won. “Then let’s hit it.”

Mayumi nodded, her analytical mind already running the numbers. “They’d have to get close to confirm a kill—real close.”

“And if we tail them after,” Jay added, his hands hovering over the controls, “we might track them to a repair base. That destroyer’s too busted to limp far without a dock. We turn this into a recon goldmine.”

“Exactly,” Wade said, adrenaline surging. “What’ve we got for decoys?”

Mayumi tapped her console, pulling up the cargo manifest. “Spare parts—engine coils, hull plating—plus empty specimen containers and that busted sensor buoy we were hauling back to base. I can rig them to mimic our EM and heat signatures.”

“Do it,” Wade ordered. “Jay, plot a descent to the planet—low and fast, use the terrain. Kristen, prep the EMP burst—wide dispersal, max yield. Mayumi, get those decoys into the launch bay. We’ve got one shot before they’re on us.”

The next fifteen minutes dissolved into a frantic symphony of motion. Kristen knelt at the panel, hands steady as she rerouted power to the EMP capacitor. She wasn’t just the Scout’s medic anymore—necessity had forged her into its engineer too, a prodigy’s mind bending to the ship’s demands. Back on New Annapolis, her photographic memory had stunned Psych-school profs; she’d recite textbooks verbatim, diagnose rare conditions in seconds. The Scout’s cramped reality—four souls, no dedicated technician—had forced her to evolve. Kristen had devoured the ship’s manuals in a night, every schematic etched in her brain. She’d rewired shorted consoles during a meteor storm, patched a breached hull with scavenged plating, all while stitching up Jay’s gashed arm. Now, tying the EMP into the comm array, she visualized each circuit—blueprints unrolling in her mind’s eye. Her fingers danced, splicing lines with surgical precision, a medic’s calm fused with an engineer’s grit. “Max yield, wide spread,” she muttered, the stakes as familiar as a patient’s pulse. Wade’s nod anchored her; she’d become the ship’s lifeline, one crisis at a time.

In the cargo bay, Mayumi and Jay tore into the decoy drones—sleek, expendable pods the size of a man. They stripped out non-essentials, stuffing them with hull fragments, scorched wiring, and the sensor buoy’s radioactive core. “Boosting their emitters,” Mayumi said, soldering a connection. “They’ll scream our signature loud enough to wake the dead.”

Jay hefted a chunk of engine shielding into place. “Mass distribution’s key—they’ve got to scatter like a real wreck, or the Skravaks’ll smell the ruse.”

Pulse of Survival

Back in the CCS, Wade tracked the destroyer’s approach on passive sensors—its sleek, obsidian hull glinting as it closed the gap, plasma weapon ports glowing faintly violet. “Forty thousand klicks,” he muttered. “They’re not slowing down.”

“EMP’s primed,” Kristen called, sliding back into her seat. “Say the word.”

“Decoys loaded,” Mayumi reported over the intercom, her voice taut. “Spread pattern’s set—2-kilometer dispersal on launch.”

“Descent locked,” Jay said, hands gripping the yoke. “We’ll skim at 500 meters—canyons and dust storms’ll give us cover.”

Wade took a steadying breath, the weight of command settling on his shoulders. “Hit it.”

Kristen slammed the trigger. A silent pulse erupted from the Scout, an invisible shockwave rippling outward. The Skravak destroyer faltered mid-flight, its running lights stuttering as the EMP slammed into its crippled systems. Wade pictured their bridge crew scrambling…if they had a crew… long-range sensors dissolving into a haze of static.

“Now, Jay—drop us!” he shouted.

The Scout plunged toward the planet, engines howling as Jay threaded through swirling dust clouds and jagged, rust-red peaks. The hull groaned, G-forces pinning the crew to their seats, loose gear rattling in the compartments. At 500 meters, Mayumi punched the launch command. A dozen decoys streaked from the bay, fanning out across a 12-kilometer arc, their emitters blaring the Scout’s heat, EM, and transponder signals like desperate ghosts.

Jay nosed the ship into a shadowed ravine—a deep, wind-carved gash in the planet’s surface—and settled it amid a cluster of boulders. “Powering down,” he said, flipping switches in rapid succession. The engines’ hum faded to silence, the lights dimmed to a faint emergency glow, and the CCS went still save for the soft hiss of life support. Only passive sensors stayed live, feeding a grainy, monochrome view of the sky above.

Wade lowered his voice to a whisper. “Here they come.”

The Skravak destroyer loomed into low orbit, its plasma weapons igniting like miniature suns. Violet beams lanced downward, striking the decoys with surgical precision. Each hit erupted in a molten plume, vaporizing metal and kicking up geysers of dust. Then the bombardment widened—random, furious salvos of plasma raining across the surface, gouging craters and shaking the ground beneath the Scout. The hull trembled with each distant impact, the air thick with the crew’s held breaths.

“They’re buying it,” Mayumi murmured, her eyes glued to the sensor feed. “Targeting’s locked on the decoy spread—erratic, though. They’re madder than a wet hen.”

Wade clenched his prosthetic hand, the submarine analogy anchoring him. “Stay quiet. We wait them out—just like those old crews under the sea.”

Kristen shot him a sidelong glance. “You really think this’ll work?”

“Worked for them,” Wade said softly. “Depth charges or plasma bolts, same game. They’ll tire out and move on.”

The barrage stretched on, minutes bleeding into an hour. Dust plumes clogged the atmosphere, veiling the Scout’s position in a hazy shroud. The crew sat rigid, the silence broken only by the occasional thud of a stray bolt or the creak of settling metal. Finally, the plasma fire tapered off. The destroyer lingered, deploying a trio of sleek probes to sift through the wreckage—charred debris and melted alloys passing for the Scout’s corpse.

“They’re scanning,” Mayumi whispered, her voice barely audible. “Standard salvage pattern—looking for proof.”

Wade’s jaw tightened. “Let them look. We’re a ghost.”

Kristen prayed out loud in a whisper, “Father, blind them like You blinded the enemies of Elisha. Protect us and turn this to our advantage, in Jesus’ name.”

Ghosts of Recon

The probes circled for agonizing minutes, their faint hum detectable through the hull’s audio pickups. At last, the destroyer recalled them, emitting a short, encrypted burst. Mayumi’s eyes narrowed. “Victory signal—Skravak ‘target neutralized’ protocol. We’ve cracked enough of those to know the pattern.”

“Good,” Wade said, exhaling. “Now the fun part. Jay, they moving?”

Jay studied the feed. “Climbing out—slowly. Vector’s shifting toward sector seven-nine-three. They’re limping—engines at half output.”

“The EMP softened them up,” Wade said. “Mayumi, their sensors?”

“Long-range are toast,” she confirmed. “That pulse overloaded what was left—they’ll need a dock to fix it.”

Wade leaned forward, a predatory glint in his eye. “Then we follow. Jay, ease us up—five percent thrust, shadow their course. Mayumi, engage the hull’s stealth coating. Kristen, cycle our heat through the specimen sinks. We’re hunting now.”

“What’s the play?” Kristen asked, her hands already on the controls.

“We tail them to their base,” Wade said. “A destroyer that size doesn’t crawl home without repairs. We map it, study it, bring the intel back to Command. The Scout’s built for sneaking—let’s prove it.”

The next ten hours tested their skill and patience. Jay nursed the Scout upward, using the planet’s storms as cover, nudging the ship with minimal thruster bursts to avoid detection. Mayumi tuned the hull’s metamaterials—military-grade coatings that bent light and absorbed scans—until their signature vanished into the background noise. Kristen rerouted engine heat into the lab’s cryogenic storage, the near-absolute-zero chambers swallowing their thermal trail.

“They’re adjusting course,” Jay reported, his voice hoarse from focus. “Turning toward a dense debris field—looks artificial.”

Mayumi magnified the feed, excitement creeping into her tone. “Not natural—too uniform. Spectral spikes suggest a camouflage screen. Probably a repair outpost.”

Wade nodded, his mind racing. “Take us in slow, Jay. Find a spot to park among the junk—power down to life support and passives. We watch, we learn, we gather intel.”

The Scout glided into the debris field—a sprawling graveyard of twisted hulls, shattered satellites, and faint interference waves pulsing from hidden emitters. Jay wove through the chaos, settling the ship behind a jagged hulk—a derelict freighter’s gutted frame. Systems winked out one by one, the CCS plunging into near-darkness as the crew shifted to minimal power.

The Skravak destroyer maneuvered deeper into the field, its plasma-scarred hull vanishing behind a curtain of debris. Mayumi recorded its every move, her console logging entry patterns and signal bursts. “Complex approach,” she murmured. “They’re hiding something big.”

“Look at this,” Kristen said, pointing to a sensor spike. “The debris is generating a jamming field—broad-spectrum, low intensity. No wonder we’ve never pinged this place.”

Wade’s prosthetic hand flexed unconsciously, the stakes sinking in. They’d turned a desperate escape into a recon coup—penetrating a Skravak stronghold no human had ever glimpsed. “Settle in, friends,” he said, voice low but firm. “We’re here for the long haul. Map their defenses, analyze their ships, log everything. This could change the war.”

Jay cracked a tired grin. “Beats getting plasma-fried.”

“You got that right,” Mayumi said, already tweaking the passive arrays for better resolution.

Kristen leaned back, exhaling. “Guess your submarine trick paid off, Wade.”

He smirked faintly. “Old wars, new tricks. Now let’s make it count.”

As the Scout went dark, pride surged in Wade’s chest. The F290 had outfoxed a destroyer—and now it would peel back the Skravaks’ secrets, one silent scan at a time. The real mission had just begun.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Kingdom Kernel #10 – Can a Christian Be Patriotic?

Kingdom Kernel Collection

The Temporal Nature of Earthly Kingdoms: A Biblical Analysis of Supreme Loyalty to the Eternal King

“Then the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver and the gold were crushed all at the same time and became like chaff from the summer threshing floors; and the wind carried them away so that not a trace of them was found. But the stone that struck the statue became a great mountain and filled the whole earth… In the days of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom which will never be destroyed, and that kingdom will not be left for another people; it will crush and put an end to all these kingdoms, but it will itself endure forever. Inasmuch as you saw that a stone was cut out of the mountain without hands and that it crushed the iron, the bronze, the clay, the silver and the gold, the great God has made known to the king what will take place in the future; so the dream is true and its interpretation is trustworthy.”

Daniel 2:35,44-45

Introduction

The short answer to the question is “Yes, but… . In Daniel 2:31-45, we encounter a profound prophecy that should temper our loyalties and allegiance to any earthly nation. This passage, particularly the phrase “not a trace of them was found” from Daniel 2:35, offers a striking contrast between the transient nature of earthly kingdoms and the eternal reign of God’s kingdom. This concept is pivotal in understanding the biblical call for supreme loyalty to the King of Kings over patriotic allegiance to earthly nations.

Linguistic Analysis

The phrase “not a trace of them was found” in Daniel 2:35 is translated from the Aramaic “וְלָא־הִשְׁתֲּכַח לְהוֹן כָּל־אֲתַר” (wə·lā- hiš·tə·ḵaḥ lə·hō·wn kāl-‘ă·ṯar). The key term here is “הִשְׁתֲּכַח” (hiš·tə·ḵaḥ, Strong’s H7912), which means “to be found” or “to be present.” In this context, it’s used with a negative particle to emphasize complete absence or disappearance.

Theological Significance

This linguistic nuance underscores the utter dissolution of earthly powers in the face of God’s kingdom. It echoes Jesus’ teachings about the temporary nature of worldly authority and the supremacy of God’s reign (Matthew 6:19-20). The concept reveals God’s sovereignty and the futility of placing ultimate trust in human institutions.

Jesus as the Perfect Example

Jesus exemplified the perfect balance between respecting earthly authorities and maintaining supreme loyalty to God’s kingdom. His statement, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mark 12:17), demonstrates this principle. Jesus showed respect for earthly authorities but never compromised His allegiance to the Father’s will.

Implications for Understanding the Kingdom of God

The phrase “not a trace of them was found” points to the comprehensive nature of God’s kingdom. It suggests that when God’s reign is fully established, all competing powers will be completely eradicated. This concept aligns with Jesus’ parables about the kingdom of God, such as the mustard seed (Matthew 13:31-32), which grows to overshadow all else.

Divine Attributes and Redemptive Plan

This concept reveals God’s omnipotence and eternal nature. It demonstrates His ability to overcome all earthly powers and establish His everlasting kingdom. The prophetic vision in Daniel points to Christ’s eternal reign, fulfilling God’s redemptive plan for humanity.

Christological Fulfillment

Jesus fulfills the vision of the rock “cut out, but not by human hands” that shatters the statue of earthly kingdoms—Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome—demonstrating His divine authority over all human powers. This rock, symbolizing Christ, strikes the statue’s feet and becomes a great mountain that fills the earth, representing His everlasting kingdom established through His redemptive work and the spread of the gospel across all nations. Unlike the temporary empires of the vision, Jesus’ reign as the Messiah ushers in a divine kingdom not built by human effort but by God’s sovereign will. His triumph as the rock and mountain signifies the eternal rule of God, bringing justice, peace, and salvation to the world.

Transformative Power for Believers

Understanding this concept transforms how believers view their citizenship. While we may have earthly nationalities, our primary allegiance is to Christ’s kingdom. This perspective should shape our priorities, values, and actions, leading us to invest in eternal matters rather than temporary earthly concerns.

Conclusion

As Christians, we can indeed take pride in our country’s heritage, show respect to leaders and national symbols like flags, and even serve in the military to defend our nation. These actions can be expressions of good citizenship and stewardship of the blessings God has given us through our national identity. However, it’s crucial to maintain a balanced perspective. The vision in Daniel 2 serves as a powerful reminder that all earthly kingdoms, no matter how great, are ultimately temporal. The stone cut without hands, representing God’s kingdom, will one day crush all earthly powers, leaving not a trace of them behind. This prophetic image cautions us against allowing our national allegiance to compete with or supersede our supreme loyalty to God. While we can honor our earthly nations, we must always remember that our true citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20), and our ultimate allegiance belongs to the eternal Kingdom of God, which will endure forever.

Song – Patriot or Pilgrim

Disciple-Maker’s Short Story

A Tale of Two Kingdoms

The aroma of sizzling burgers and crispy fries wafted through the air as Alex and Jose settled into their booth at Burger Haven. The familiar chatter of lunchtime patrons and the clink of trays provided a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

Alex took a sip of his soda, his eyes twinkling with purpose. “So, Jose,” he began, carefully selecting his words, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something important. Are you a Christian?”

Jose’s eyebrows shot up, a hint of indignation coloring his features. He set down his half-eaten burger with a soft thud. “I’m an American, aren’t I?” he retorted, his tone carrying a mix of pride and defensiveness.

Alex leaned forward, his expression softening. “I hear you, my friend, but being an American and being a Christian are two very different things. Let me explain.”

As Jose listened, his initial defensiveness began to melt away, replaced by genuine curiosity. Alex’s words painted a vivid picture of two distinct realms – the temporal and the eternal.

“You see,” Alex continued, gesturing with a french fry, “our citizenship here in America is a blessing, no doubt. But there’s another citizenship that transcends borders and time itself – citizenship in the Kingdom of God.”

Jose’s brow furrowed. “Kingdom of God? Sounds pretty abstract to me.”

Alex nodded, understanding his friend’s skepticism. “It might seem that way at first, but it’s as real as the burger in your hand. Think of it this way: our nation, as great as it is, will one day not exist and won’t even be remembered. But God’s kingdom? It’s eternal.”

Alex leaned forward, his eyes shining with conviction. “Jose, let me share something personal with you. There was a time when I felt lost and guilty. A friend explained to me that God loves us so much that He sent Jesus to Earth. Jesus lived a perfect life, died on the cross for our sins, and was buried, but the good news is He rose again three days later, proving He’s the true King.”

Jose listened intently, his burger forgotten.

Alex continued, “I prayed, asking God for forgiveness and for Jesus to be my King. I immediately felt forgiven and free. It changed my life forever. Have you ever considered asking God for forgiveness and making Jesus your King, Jose?”

Jose shook his head slowly, absorbing the information.

“You see,” Alex explained, “there are actually two kingdoms at war with each other. We’re born into the kingdom of darkness, ruled by Satan. He’s a liar who says you don’t have to serve him, you can serve yourself, but in the end, he brings death, darkness, and destruction. But Jesus is the King of the Kingdom of Light. He offers life, light, and love for eternity if we turn from our selfish ways and serve Him as our King.”

Alex paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “We live in this brief bubble called life, Jose. In 70 or 80 years, it pops. Whichever king we served is where we’re going to spend all eternity. My question for you is: which king are you serving?”

Jose sat back, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve never thought about it like that before. It’s a lot to take in.”

Alex nodded understandingly. “I know it can seem overwhelming, but it’s the most important decision you’ll ever make. The good news – the gospel – is at the heart of this. Jesus preached the gospel of the kingdom, and that’s what I’m sharing with you now.”

Jose gathered his tray, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and contemplation. “Thanks for sharing this, Alex. I have a lot to think about.”

As they stepped out into the sunlight, Jose felt as though he was seeing the world through new eyes. The American flag waving in front of the restaurant took on a different meaning now – a symbol of earthly citizenship, important but no longer ultimate.

“You know what, Alex?” Jose said, a newfound determination in his voice. “I think I’d like to hear more about this Jesus and how I can follow Him as my King.”

Alex smiled encouragingly. “Remember, Jose, it’s not about being an American or following a religion. It’s about choosing which kingdom you want to be part of – the Kingdom of Light or the kingdom of darkness. The decision is yours, but I’m here if you want to talk more about it.”

And with that, the two friends set off, their conversation no longer just about countries and borders, but about a kingdom that would outlast all others – a kingdom where true freedom and eternal purpose awaited.

Kingdom Kernel Collection

I’m Not THAT Smart – #111

ENGLISH / ESPAÑOL

Welcome Back! Today, we’ll be looking at the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke to see where to give credit when one of Jesus’ men comes up with a good answer.

So let’s get started.

(Click here to get a copy of the Gospel Sync document)

Matthew 16:13–20, Mark 8:27–30, Luke 9:18–21

Then Jesus and His disciples went on to the villages around Caesarea Philippi. One day, on the way, Jesus was praying in private and He questioned His disciples: “Who do people say I, the Son of Man, am?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets of old has arisen.” “But what about you?” Jesus asked. “Who do you say I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by My Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Then He strictly admonished the disciples not to tell anyone that He was the Christ.

My Thoughts

Once again the “Master of the Question” gets to the core of the disciple’s faith. They had been with Jesus for some time now and Jesus wanted to measure His impact. He starts with those outside the intimate circle; “Who do people say I, the Son of Man, am?” The masses were just guessing. They really had no clue who Jesus was. Then He asks His own. (Surely His disciples would have a fighting chance to come up with the correct answer.) And once again, it’s Peter; “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

It would be very natural for us to say; “Wow Peter! You’re on it like a bonnet!” Surely we’d like to take credit if we made such a simple and yet profound statement. But that’s where we would be so so wrong. (Peter will prove in just a few minutes that he’s not all that we and he thinks he is. More on that later.)

No, Peter has nothing to be proud of. He was given the right answer “by the Father in heaven.” And this underscores two essential qualities we are looking for in our disciple-making. First, humility and second, that the people we are mentoring are hearing from God Himself.

My Story

It’s happened to me a hundred times. I’ll be talking, preaching, or writing and I’ll walk away from the experience saying; “WOW, There is no way I came up with that on my own!” Yes, I feel an incredible sense of joy to know that I’m not that smart or wise or intuitive or…whatever. It was a gift from heaven and just as Jesus pointed that out to Peter, I think we need to remind ourselves and those we are discipling that the Holy Spirit is actually speaking through us.

But as I’m writing this I’m wondering; “As I have gotten older and more experienced, am I starting to think I’m coming up with all this good stuff?” Or even worse, in my pride I might be telling God, “I got this Lord, don’t worry, I’m on the job.” I think that would be a huge mistake!

So let me give credit to where credit is due. If you have thought something I said was wise, or you’ve read something I wrote and it was transformative, let’s give all glory to God. Let’s acknowledge where the true wisdom comes from and be exhilarated as disciple-makers that He is actually using us to advance His kingdom. If you’ve thought just the opposite and thought I was way off, I’ll take full credit for that. But, would you let me know where I’m messing up…gently, please. 😀

Our Action Plan

Now it’s time for application. Here’s some ideas;

If you have experienced the Holy Spirit giving you things to say that you know you didn’t come up with, take time right now to thank God and acknowledge His gift.
Do some reflection. Did you take credit for something God had done? Make that right by confession and repentance.
Are those you’re discipling growing in humility and acknowledging God’s work in their lives?

At the end of the day, it’s all about giving credit where credit is due—God’s the one who gives us the right words and wisdom. Let’s stay humble, thank Him for working through us, and keep cheering each other on as we grow in faith together.

No soy tan inteligente – #111

¡Bienvenidos de nuevo! Hoy analizaremos los Evangelios de Mateo, Marcos y Lucas para ver a quién reconocer cuando uno de sus discípulos da una buena respuesta.

¡Comencemos!

Mateo 16:13-20, Marcos 8:27-30, Lucas 9:18-21

Luego, Jesús y sus discípulos se dirigieron a los pueblos de los alrededores de Cesarea de Filipo. Un día, en el camino, Jesús estaba orando en privado y preguntó a sus discípulos: «¿Quién dice la gente que soy yo, el Hijo del Hombre?». Ellos respondieron: «Unos dicen que Juan el Bautista; otros, que Elías; y otros, que Jeremías o uno de los antiguos profetas ha surgido». «¿Y ustedes, qué?», preguntó Jesús. «¿Quién dicen que soy yo?». Simón Pedro respondió: «Tú eres el Cristo, el Hijo de Dios vivo». Jesús respondió: «¡Bienaventurado eres, Simón, hijo de Jonás! Porque esto no te lo reveló carne ni sangre, sino mi Padre celestial. Y yo te digo que tú eres Pedro, y sobre esta roca edificaré mi iglesia, y las puertas del Hades no prevalecerán contra ella. Te daré las llaves del reino de los cielos. Todo lo que ates en la tierra quedará atado en los cielos, y todo lo que desates en la tierra quedará desatado en los cielos». Luego amonestó severamente a los discípulos para que no dijeran a nadie que él era el Cristo.

Mis Pensamientos

Una vez más, el “Maestro de la Pregunta” llega al corazón de la fe de los discípulos. Llevaban tiempo con Jesús, y Jesús quería medir su impacto. Comienza con quienes estaban fuera de su círculo íntimo: “¿Quién dice la gente que soy yo, el Hijo del Hombre?”. La gente solo adivinaba. No tenían ni idea de quién era Jesús. Entonces les pregunta a los suyos. Seguramente sus discípulos tendrían una oportunidad de dar la respuesta correcta. Y una vez más, es Pedro: “Tú eres el Cristo, el Hijo de Dios vivo”.

Sería muy natural que dijéramos: “¡Guau, Pedro! ¡Estás en lo más alto!”. Seguramente nos gustaría atribuirnos el mérito si hiciéramos una afirmación tan simple y a la vez tan profunda. Pero ahí es donde estaríamos totalmente equivocados. (Pedro demostrará en unos minutos que no es todo lo que nosotros y él cree ser. Hablaremos de eso más adelante).

No, Pedro no tiene nada de qué enorgullecerse. Recibió la respuesta correcta “del Padre celestial”. Y esto subraya dos cualidades esenciales que buscamos en nuestro discipulado: primero, la humildad; y segundo, que las personas a quienes mentoreamos escuchen a Dios mismo.

Mi Historia

Me ha pasado cientos de veces. Estoy hablando, predicando o escribiendo y al final de la experiencia me voy diciendo: “¡Guau! ¡Es imposible que se me haya ocurrido eso solo!”. Sí, siento una alegría increíble al saber que no soy tan inteligente, ni sabio, ni intuitivo, ni nada. Fue un regalo del cielo y, tal como Jesús se lo señaló a Pedro, creo que debemos recordarnos a nosotros mismos y a quienes estamos discipulando que el Espíritu Santo realmente está hablando a través de nosotros.

Pero mientras escribo esto, me pregunto: “Con la edad y la experiencia que he adquirido, ¿estoy empezando a pensar que se me están ocurriendo todas estas cosas buenas?”. O peor aún, en mi orgullo, podría estarle diciendo a Dios: “Ya lo tengo, Señor, no te preocupes, estoy trabajando”. ¡Creo que sería un gran error!

Así que, permítanme reconocer quién lo merece. Si has pensado que algo que dije fue sabio, o has leído algo que escribí y te resultó transformador, demos toda la gloria a Dios. Reconozcamos de dónde proviene la verdadera sabiduría y, como hacedores de discípulos, sintamos la alegría de que Él realmente nos esté usando para el avance de su reino. Si has pensado justo lo contrario y has pensado que estaba muy equivocado, me atribuyo todo el mérito. Pero, ¿podrías decirme dónde me estoy equivocando? Con delicadeza, por favor. 😀

Nuestro Plan de Acción

Ahora es momento de aplicar. Aquí tienes algunas ideas:

Si has sentido que el Espíritu Santo te ha dado cosas que decir que sabes que no se te ocurrieron, tómate un tiempo ahora mismo para agradecer a Dios y reconocer su don.

Reflexiona. ¿Te atribuyeste el mérito de algo que Dios hizo? Repártelo con la confesión y el arrepentimiento.

¿Están tus discípulos creciendo en humildad y reconociendo la obra de Dios en sus vidas?

Al final, se trata de reconocer a quien lo merece: Dios es quien nos da las palabras y la sabiduría adecuadas. Mantengámonos humildes, agradezcamos su obra a través de nosotros y animémonos mutuamente mientras crecemos juntos en la fe.

Si ve un problema importante en la traducción, envíeme una corrección por correo electrónico a charleswood1@gmail.com