The Calling – Chapter 35 – The Lab

Accordingly, whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed upon the housetops.

Luke 12:3

The Grim Circle

The cabin’s lone table groaned under the weight of four hunched figures, their shadows flickering against the log walls as the fire spat embers into the dim. Two days of recon had left Wade, Kristen, Jay, and Mayumi hollow-eyed but wired, their voices overlapping in a tangle of exhaustion and urgency. The slate between them bore a fresh sketch—a perfect circle, twenty feet high, jagged with Skravak bones, a single ten-meter gap yawning like a wound. In the center of it, a rough sketch of a comm array, its dishes frozen mid-shift, loomed over their words.

Wade leaned forward, elbows planted on the table, his pulse pistol a silent sentinel at his hip. “Two days watching that thing, and I still can’t square it,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, the cadence of a man wrestling with the impossible. “A perimeter of Skravak skeletons—stacked, not scattered—twenty feet of calcified menace, precise as a bulkhead. And that access point—ten meters wide, clean-edged, leading to a door that’s been open so long the dust’s a carpet.”

Kristen tapped the slate, her finger tracing the circle’s arc, her brow furrowed under a streak of alien dirt. “It’s not random, Wade,” she said, her tone sharp with conviction. “Those bones aren’t wind-piled—someone, something, built that wall or stopped them in their tracks. And the door? Decades, maybe centuries, untouched. No tracks, no wind-shift. Whatever happened here, it’s been dead a long time.”

Jay snorted, slumping back with a restless twitch, his hands drumming the table’s edge. “Dead, sure, but not quiet,” he said, his voice carrying a jagged edge of unease. “That comm array’s alive—six-hour shifts, regular as a chronometer. We watched it tilt yesterday, sunlight glinting off the main dish like a beacon. Mechanical as all get out, but Mayumi’s scanner says it’s mute—no signal, no EM pulse. Just gears grinding for nobody.”

Mayumi nodded, her sharp eyes flicking to the scanner resting beside her—a battered relic of their scout ship, its screen cracked but glowing faintly. “He’s right,” she said, her words clipped, precise, a technician’s clarity cutting through the murk. “I ran a full sweep. Nothing. No carrier wave, no handshake protocol. It’s a ghost system, cycling on a timer, built to talk to the stars but saying zilch. Tech like that doesn’t just sit idle—not without purpose.”

Wade scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw, his gaze narrowing as he stared at the slate’s skeletal ring. “Purpose is the kicker,” he muttered, half to himself. “Skravak don’t build like this—perimeters, yeah, but not art projects. Stack a wall of their own dead? That’s not their style—too organized, too… human. And that array—human design, no question. Clean lines, modular mounts. But it’s old, outdated. A century behind the rigs we’ve seen on their ships.”

Kristen’s hand brushed his arm, a fleeting anchor, before she leaned in, her voice dropping low. “Old, but powered,” she said. “That hum we caught—faint, steady, like a reactor on standby. Whatever’s feeding it hasn’t quit in all this time. And the door—open, inviting, but no one’s walked through. It’s a trap, a tomb, or a time capsule. Pick your poison.”

Jay barked a laugh, short and bitter, his fingers stilling on the table. “Tomb’s my bet,” he said. “Skravak bones outside, human tech inside? Sounds like a last stand—some poor losers got overrun, left their toys running. But if it’s a trap, who’s it for? Us? Something else? That array’s ticking like it’s waiting.”

Mayumi’s frown deepened, her mind visibly churning as she tapped the scanner’s edge. “Waiting’s the problem,” she said. “No signal doesn’t mean no function. Could be a relay—dormant, coded, something we can’t ping without the right key. Or it’s broadcasting on a band we don’t have. Point is, it’s active, and we’re blind to why. That’s not frozen in time—that’s poised.”

Wade straightened, his eyes sweeping the crew—his wife, his friends, his lifeline on this hostile paradise moon. “Poised or not, we’re not cracking it from here,” he said, his tone firming into command. “Two days recon gave us the shape—circle, door, array—but no answers. We’ve got a site that’s half mausoleum, half machine, and it’s been sitting there longer than any of us have been breathing. Splitting up’s off the table—too many unknowns, too little firepower. We go in together, all four of us.”

Kristen nodded, her gaze locking with his, a Ranger’s agreement layered over a wife’s trust. “Together’s the only play,” she said. “Pairs can’t cover that gap—ten meters is a kill zone if anything’s watching. Four sets of eyes, two pistols, bows for backup. We move slow, sweep it, figure out what we’re dealing with.”

Jay grinned, a flicker of his usual fire sparking through the tension. “Fine by me,” he said. “I’m itching to see inside that door—bones outside, secrets in. Just don’t ask me to wipe my feet on the welcome mat.”

Mayumi squeezed his arm, her lips twitching faintly before she turned serious again. “We need a plan beyond stepping in,” she said. “That array’s the key—mechanical or not, it’s the heartbeat. We disable it first, cut any chance of it waking up something we can’t handle. Then we dig.”

Wade tapped the slate once, decisive, the sound sharp in the quiet. “Agreed,” he said. “We pack light, move at dawn. Array first—kill its clock if we can. Then we search. No heroics, no risks we don’t have to take.” He paused, his voice softening as he met their eyes. “And we stick tight. Whatever built that circle, whatever left that door open, it’s not getting us cheap.”

Commo Down

The alien dawn broke in muted pinks and reds, casting long shadows across the skeletal circle as Wade led the crew toward the ten-meter gap. Their boots whispered over the mossy ground, each step measured, bows at the ready and pulse pistols gripped tight. The wall of Skravak bones loomed twenty feet high on either side—ribcages and skulls piled in a random tangle, a grim testament to some long-forgotten surge. Wade’s eyes narrowed as he caught two small probes, each a meter tall, jutting from the soil at the gap’s edges like silent sentinels. Their matte-black casings gleamed faintly, unmarred by time. Then he noticed one every ten meters in perfect alignment with the skeletal circle.

“Probes,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath, signaling a halt with a raised fist. “Flanking the entrance. Mayumi—sweep ‘em.”

Mayumi crouched low, her scanner humming faintly as she angled it toward the devices. Her brow furrowed, fingers dancing over the cracked screen. “Nothing,” she said, her tone clipped, analytical. “No power, no emissions—dead as the bones. Could be sensors, dormant or burned out. We’re blind either way.”

Wade edged closer, his gaze flicking between the probes and the half-open door beyond—it looks like these probes had something to do with these dead Skravak…all except this gap. This part of their perimeter failed I would guess.”

“That would be some handy tech for the fight, we should retrieve one of the probes when we have time.” Mayumi said, her voice steady but taut. “Let’s not wake anything up.”

“Single file, slow.” Wade said, “I’ll take point.”

His pulse pistol a steady weight in his hand as he advanced, the crew falling in behind—Kristen, then Mayumi, with Jay bringing up the rear. The gap stretched wide, a kill zone if anything stirred, but the silence held, broken only by the faint crunch of dust underfoot. They reached the door, a slab of alloy wedged ajar, dust piled against its base like a gray tide and its surface pitted with age. Wade nudged it with his boot. It creaked faintly, revealing a sliver of dimness within. The air wafted out—stale, dry, with a hint of metal, but no rot, no death-stink to gag them.

“Stale, not foul,” Wade said, peering inside. “Lights are low—our eyes’ll adjust. Let’s move in, stay tight.”

They slipped through, the half-open door scraping the floor as they passed. The interior unfolded in shadows—desks overturned in a jagged arc, forming a makeshift barricade. Skravak skeletons sprawled across the floor, limbs twisted. Beyond the desks, human remains lay in tatters—military fatigues shredded, bones gouged and splintered. Kristen’s breath caught as she traced the scene, her mind piecing it together.

“Fighting position,” she said, nodding at the desks. “They held here—humans, soldiers. The Skravak broke through and tore ‘em apart. There’s no decay smell—means it’s old, real old.”

Jay’s eyes darted past the carnage, landing on a ladder bolted to the far wall, its rungs leading to a hatch in the ceiling. “Roof access,” he said, a spark of his usual energy cutting through the gloom. “That’s our shot at the comm array—up close, no guessing. We need to see it, kill it if we can.”

Wade’s gaze followed, then swept the room again, assessing. “Good call,” he said, decisive. “But we don’t split wide—two up, two down. Jay, you and me hold security here. Kris, Mayumi, take the roof. Keep your eyes sharp, report everything.”

Kristen gave him a quick nod, her hand brushing his arm—a flicker of trust—before she headed for the ladder, Mayumi close behind. The rungs creaked under their weight, but held, and they pushed the hatch open with a groan. Cold air rushed down as they emerged onto the roof, the comm array sprawling before them—six dishes, each twentyfive feet across, their surfaces dulled by decades of neglect. The main reflector gleamed faintly, frozen mid-shift, its mechanical hum a low pulse in the stillness.

Mayumi knelt beside the nearest dish, her scanner sweeping its base. “Six-inch cable,” she said, tracing a thick line from the dish’s control link to a central feed. “Runs to the hub—twist-lock connector, simple design. Unplug it here, it’s death to the system.”

Kristen crouched beside her, testing the cable’s fit with a firm twist. It resisted, then gave with a soft click, the dish’s hum fading to silence. “Old tech, but smart,” she said, her voice low. “One down—five to go. If this cuts the cycle, we’ve got control.”

They moved methodically, dish to dish, unplugging each cable with a practiced turn. The roof grew quieter with every disconnection, the mechanical heartbeat slowing to a stop. Mayumi paused at the last one, her sharp eyes meeting Kristen’s. “No signal before, no power now,” she said. “If it was talking to something, it’s mute—unless there’s a backup we can’t see.”

“Better than guessing,” Kristen replied, straightening. “Let’s tell the boys.”

They descended the ladder, dust motes swirling in their wake, and found Wade and Jay still posted—Wade near the door, pistol ready, Jay scanning the room’s shadows. Kristen stepped off the rungs, her voice cutting the quiet. “Array’s down,” she said. “Six cables, all unplugged—simple twist-locks at the base. No hum, no motion. It’s a corpse now.”

Wade’s shoulders eased a fraction, though his grip on the pistol didn’t slacken. “Good work,” he said, his tone warm but firm. “No backup buzz?”

“None we caught,” Mayumi said, joining them. “Scanner’s clean—could be deeper systems, but the dishes are offline. Step one’s done.”

Jay grinned, a flicker of relief breaking his tension. “One less thing twitching out there,” he said. “Now what—dig in here, or haul something back?”

Wade’s eyes lingered on the human skeletons, then flicked to the hatch. “We’ve cut the voice,” he said. “Next, we find its brain. Let’s look for the hub—something we can move. Answers don’t stay here—they come with us.”

The crew tightened their formation, the silenced array above a small victory in the vast unknown. The room’s grim history pressed close, but they’d taken the first swing—and landed it.

They pressed into the hall in the rear of the facility. The crew feeling a silence so thick it pressed against their ears—no clatter, no hum, just the faint echo of their own steps. The hall emptied into a sprawling maintenance bay, its high ceiling lost in shadow, where stillness clung like damp rot. Vehicles gouged with claw marks, their tires dry-rotted and rims on the floor. But the real story lay in the fallen. A soldier’s skeleton slumped over the hood of an ATV, helmet cracked. Nearby, a mechanic in shredded coveralls clutched a wrench, skull caved in, his other hand frozen on a pulse rifle with a drained cell. Skravak skeletons sprawled in heaps, spines arched, claws sunk into the floor as if halted mid-lunge. A toppled tool cart spilled wrenches and bolts, glinting dully beside a scientist’s corpse—her white coat splayed like wings, a data slate clutched to her chest, its screen black and shattered. The air hung heavy, unstirred for decades, the silence screaming of a stand that ended in slaughter.

Log Retrieval

The facility’s corridors stretched before the crew like the veins of some ancient beast, dim and silent under flickering emergency lights. Wade took point, his pulse pistol a steady extension of his arm, its faint hum a lifeline in the gloom. Kristen flanked him, bow at the ready but more relaxed, while Mayumi and Jay followed, her scanner buzzing softly and his eyes darting to every shadow. The air hung heavy—stale, metallic, tinged with the dust of decades—but the absence of decay kept their nerves on edge. Two days of recon had brought them here, but the sprawling lab complex defied quick answers.

“Too big,” Wade muttered, pausing at a junction where three halls branched off, each lined with sealed doors. “Weeks to clear this place—months, maybe. No power, no shortcuts. We’re picking needles from a haystack.”

Kristen peered into the nearest room through a cracked viewport—test tubes glinted faintly, flanked by cages sized for Skravak and smaller Earth creatures, their bars rusted but intact, starved carcusses inside. “Bioengineering,” she said, her voice low, analytical. “Look at this—vats, gene-splicers, the works. They were cooking something here, and not just Skravak mods.”

Jay nudged open another door with his boot, revealing a chamber of synthetic printers and half-assembled machinery—sleek, but dated. “Synth lab,” he said, a wry edge to his tone. “Military-grade, too—those are pulse-rifle casings, old patterns. Century behind what we’ve seen on Skravak ships, but still nasty in its day.”

Mayumi’s scanner swept the room, its faint glow casting her face in sharp relief. “Don’t touch anything,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet with a technician’s precision. “Last time we poked Skravak AI, it woke up—self-protect mode, locked us out, nearly killed us. This place might be dormant, but it’s not dead. One wrong move, and we’re lit up for anything listening.”

Wade nodded, his jaw tight as they pressed deeper. The halls gave way to more grim tableaux—soldiers in tattered fatigues, skeletons slumped against walls, rifles still clutched in bony hands. Scientists and lab techs lay scattered, white coats stained with long-dried blood, while Skravak remains sprawled among them, claws frozen mid-strike. The story was clear: a massacre, sudden and brutal, locked in time.

“Plenty of hardware,” Wade said, eyeing a soldier’s rifle—a heavy, blocky design, its barrel pitted with age. “We could grab one and boost our firepower. We’re thin as it is.”

Jay snorted, crouching beside a fallen trooper to inspect the weapon. “Pass,” he said, shaking his head. “These relics are a hundred years past their prime—barrels corroded, power cells probably brittle. Pull the trigger, and it’s as likely to blow your head off as fire straight.”

Kristen paused at a desk, her fingers hovering over a foil-wrapped bar—its faded label proclaiming it a candy ration, a century old. She smirked faintly, then pulled back. “Tempting,” she said, “but I’m not that desperate. Focus—logs are the prize. We need what this place knew, not its snacks.”

“Logs mean comms,” Mayumi said, her sharp eyes already roving ahead. “Central server’s our bet—something tied to that array. If there’s a brain here, it’s got the memory.” She led them on, her scanner guiding the way through a maze of labs and death until they reached a reinforced door, its panel dark but intact.

Inside, the communication room was deathly silent—no power, but the promise of secrets. Consoles lined the walls, screens blank, while a squat, rectangular unit sat at the center—thirty centimeters long, twenty wide, fifteen deep, its matte-gray casing scuffed and etched with a faded serial code. Mayumi knelt beside it, her scanner confirming its purpose. “Comm hub,” she said, her voice steady but edged with excitement. “Shoebox-sized, but heavy—encrypted drives inside, I’d bet my life on it. This is the log keeper.”

Wade crouched beside her, his gaze tracing the device’s ports. “No lights or juice running,” he said. “Is it safe to pull?”

“Safe as we can make it,” Mayumi replied, her fingers tracing a bundle of cables to their connection points. “No live circuits—its dormant but not dead. We can take it whole, crack it back at camp. No risks here.”

Kristen and Jay kept watch as Mayumi worked, her hands deft and methodical, unplugging the hub with a soft click. She hefted it—compact, but dense with potential—and tucked it under her arm. “Got it,” she said. “Treasure and threat in one. Let’s move.”

Hub’s Whisper

The march back to camp was tense and silent, with the hub resting quietly in Mayumi’s firm grasp. The skeletal circle loomed behind them as they crossed the ten-meter gap, probes still dormant. As they wearily strowed into camp, the cabin’s log walls greeted them like a fortress. Inside, they cleared the table, rigging salvaged scout ship gear—auxiliary batteries and a cracked display—around the hub. Mayumi connected the final lead, her hands steady despite the stakes.

“Moment of truth,” she said, her voice low, meeting each pair of eyes—Kristen’s resolve, Jay’s restless spark, Wade’s quiet confidence. “This thing’s a century old, but it’s got a story. Logs’ll tell us what slaughtered this place—and maybe what’s coming for us.”

She powered the setup, the display flickering to life with a faint whine. Lines of encrypted text scrolled briefly, unreadable yet tantalizing. “It’s intact,” she said, a rare grin tugging her lips. “Data’s here—locked, but I’ll break it. I’ll start with the last entry and work my way back. This is what I get paid the big bucks for.” The team laughed nervously.

Jay leaned in, anticipation crackling off him. “A window to what—salvation or a bigger mess?”

“Both, maybe,” Kristen said, “Whatever’s in there, it’s ours now. We’ll figure it out together.”

The hub hummed quietly, its secrets poised to spill, and the crew braced for the unraveling—a dark history, an AI’s betrayal, and threats that might stretch beyond this moon. The logs would speak soon, and they’d listen, ready or not.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Kingdom Kernel #12 – The Only King

The Exclusive Rulership of the LORD Over All the Earth: A Christological Exploration from Zechariah 14:9

Kingdom Kernel Collection

Introduction

Zechariah 14:9 states, “And the LORD will be king over all the earth; in that day the LORD will be the only one, and His name the only one.” This passage encapsulates a pivotal eschatological vision where the LORD’s sovereignty is universally acknowledged. This essay explores the concept of the LORD’s rulership, focusing on “LORD” and its implications for Jesus Christ, emphasizing that His lordship is not merely a future reality but profoundly present in this age, though not yet in its ultimate form.

Etymology and Linguistic Analysis

In Zechariah 14:9, “LORD” translates from the Hebrew YHWH (Strong’s H3068), often pronounced as “Yahweh” (YAH-way), symbolizing God’s eternal and self-existent nature. In the New Testament, this translates to Kyrios (Strong’s G2962) when referring to Jesus, affirming His divine identity and authority (Philippians 2:11). This linguistic connection underscores that the God of the Old Testament is the same as Jesus in the New Testament, highlighting continuity in divine sovereignty.

Theological Significance

The proclamation of YHWH as king over all the earth in Zechariah signifies not only a future hope but also a present reality through Jesus Christ. His lordship is active in this age, influencing the lives of believers through the Holy Spirit and the Church’s mission. This dual aspect of Christ’s reign – present and future – is central to Christian theology, where He is already reigning in the hearts of His followers, even as we await the full manifestation of His kingdom.

Christological Fulfillment

Jesus, recognized as Kyrios, embodies this kingship in both His earthly ministry and His ongoing spiritual presence. Scriptures like Matthew 28:18, where Jesus declares, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” affirm His current lordship. His life, death, and resurrection are seen as the inauguration of God’s kingdom on earth, a kingdom that continues to grow and exert influence through the Church.

Implications for Understanding the Kingdom of God

This understanding of Christ’s lordship reveals:

Immediate Applicability: The kingdom’s principles are to be lived out now; justice, love, and peace are to be enacted in the present through His followers individually and corporately as the Church.

Divine Attributes: Christ’s current reign showcases His attributes like wisdom, power, and mercy, which believers are to emulate.

Redemption: His lordship in this age is part of the ongoing redemptive work, transforming individuals and societies.

Transformative Power for Believers

For believers, recognizing Jesus’ lordship in the present:

Guides Daily Living: It shapes ethical decisions, community life, and personal holiness, reflecting the kingdom’s values.

Inspires Mission: The Church is called to proclaim this lordship, making disciples and extending Christ’s reign through love and service.

Provides Hope: Even as we await the ultimate fulfillment, the current reality of Christ’s lordship offers comfort and direction.

Conclusion

The rule and reign of God is manifested through the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit throughout all ages and is past, present, and future (Although not fully exhibited until the end). The lordship of Jesus Christ, as prophesied in Zechariah 14:9, is both a future expectation and a present reality. Through His resurrection, Jesus has already begun His reign, offering a foretaste of the kingdom to come. This dual reality – present yet not fully consummated – informs Christian life, worship, and mission, urging believers to live under His lordship now while anticipating its full revelation in the age to come. Thus, Christ’s kingship bridges the temporal with the eternal, grounding our faith in both the now and the not yet.

Disciple-maker’s Short Story

Flight of Faith

Anne stared out the plane window, the clouds beneath them like a vast canvas being painted by the setting sun. The half-empty cabin hummed with white noise as passengers dozed or worked quietly on laptops.

“I can’t stop thinking about that conversation on our last flight,” Anne said, turning to her mother Mary beside her.

Mary looked up from her Bible. “With the engineering student? James, was it?”

“Yes.” Anne’s voice carried both conviction and concern. “I shared my testimony, told him about God’s love, but I feel like I missed something essential.”

Mary studied her daughter’s troubled expression. “What do you think you missed?”

“I talked about how Jesus loves us and died for us,” Anne said, her fingers tracing the outline of her own Bible in her lap. “But I never clearly explained what the gospel actually demands of us.”

The plane hit a patch of turbulence, causing a momentary tremor through the cabin. The pilot’s calm voice announced they’d be experiencing some “light chop” for the next few minutes.

“You know,” Mary said thoughtfully, “Jesus began His entire ministry with specific words: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ He didn’t start with ‘God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.'”

Anne nodded slowly. “Repentance. I didn’t really emphasize that part.”

“It’s become unfashionable,” Mary said. “We want to present a Jesus who only comforts and never confronts. But that’s not the Jesus of Scripture.”

A flight attendant passed by, offering drinks. Both women asked for tea.

“Paul said he declared the whole counsel of God,” Mary continued, turning pages in her Bible until she found Acts 20. “He proclaimed ‘repentance toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.’ Both elements are essential.”

Anne leaned back in her seat. “So the gospel isn’t just that Jesus died for our sins?”

“That’s central, absolutely. ‘Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, was buried, and rose again the third day,'” Mary quoted from memory. “But the proper response to that message includes both receiving Him as Savior who forgives and submitting to Him as Lord who commands.”

Outside, the sky was darkening. Anne thought about the discipleship conference they were flying to attend, how much she still had to learn.

“I think I’ve been afraid,” she admitted quietly. “Afraid that if I tell people they need to repent—to turn from sin and submit to Christ as King—they’ll reject the message. It’s easier to just talk about God’s love.”

Mary reached for her daughter’s hand. “The message we’re called to proclaim isn’t primarily about making people comfortable. It’s about calling them to a completely new life under a new King.”

The cabin lights dimmed as several passengers prepared for sleep. In the subtle glow, Anne opened her own Bible to Matthew’s gospel.

“‘From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,”‘” she read aloud softly. “Kingdom. Lordship. Not just forgiveness, but a whole new allegiance.”

Mary smiled. “That’s why Jesus told us to make disciples, not just converts. He calls people to ‘deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow Me.’ The gospel is an announcement that the rightful King has come and calls all people everywhere to surrender to His rule.”

Anne sat quietly for a moment, conviction growing. “I need to be clearer next time. The gospel isn’t just that Jesus died for our sins—though He did, praise God. It’s that through His death and resurrection, He’s established His kingdom and calls everyone to turn from sin and self-rule to follow Him as Lord.”

“That’s right,” Mary affirmed. “And that message requires words—clear, bold proclamation. Our kindness might adorn the gospel, but it can never replace speaking the actual message.”

As the plane continued through the night sky, Anne felt a renewed sense of purpose. The conference awaiting them wasn’t just about strategy or technique—it was about faithfulness to the King’s commission. Next time she had an opportunity to share her faith, she would speak of both the grace of the Savior and the claims of the Lord, calling for the repentance Jesus Himself demanded.

The gospel was good news, but it was also royal news—the announcement of a Kingdom that would never end, under a King who deserved nothing less than complete allegiance.

Kingdom Kernel Collection

Unashamed – #114

Index for all posts in the Gospel Sync Series

ENGLISH / ESPAÑOL

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.

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

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.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

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?