Make Room for Jesus

I had a dream, and I believe God spoke to me in that dream, but He did not use words. As I reflected on that experience, I came to understand something about my own walk with God. In my experience, He does not speak to me with words. The guidance I'm trying to understand comes through what I encounter and what is on my heart.

It comes through experiences, through the people in front of me, and through what is already on my heart and mind when something happens. I find myself asking, "What am I being invited to notice? Where is love needed? What is the faithful next step?"

That is my testimony. It is also a responsibility. I can misunderstand an experience. A strong impression is not, by itself, proof that my interpretation is right. I need to bring what I believe I am discerning back to Jesus, to scripture, to prayer, and to people whose wisdom I trust.

I also watched a film called Power of the Air, written and directed by Dave Christiano. I want to be clear about its place in this story. The movie did not create my discernment. It reflected something I was already wrestling with, and it deepened that reflection. It gave me another way to consider what we allow to shape our minds.

I recommend watching it thoughtfully, with your Bible open and room for honest conversation afterward. Let it be a starting point for examining what you watch, what you dwell on, and what kind of fruit those choices bear in your life.

Here is the question that stayed with me. If I fill every quiet place inside me with the noise of this world, what am I bringing to the next person, the next experience, and the next decision?

We have worries. We have fears. We have anxiety. Sometimes we reach for a screen because, for a little while, it lets us stop thinking about what hurts. I understand that impulse, but I have begun to ask what we are taking in while we're trying to escape.

More violence, more humiliation, another murder, another argument, another invitation to fear or despise somebody, another story that makes cruelty feel normal. We turn away from one burden and fill the space with something else that can follow us into the rest of our lives.

Then a real person stands in front of us. They do something we do not understand. Before we ask them a question, we may give them the motives of the antagonist in the movie we watched last night. We read a neighbor through a story somebody else wrote.

That is the trap I want to step away from. I want to hear the person before I decide who they are. I want to leave enough quiet in my life to recognize a need, to examine my first reaction, and to remember what Jesus taught.

There is money in holding our attention. There can be money in outrage, fear, sexual desire, and keeping us watching. Jesus warned that we cannot serve both God and mammon. I hear that warning as a question for my own life. Is money becoming the master? Is attention becoming something to capture at any cost? Am I letting somebody else's pursuit of profit govern the condition of my heart?

Advertising itself reminds us that repeated exposure matters. If a brief message is considered valuable enough to purchase, I should take seriously what I choose to watch with my full attention day after day.

Even a small amount of poison can matter. That is the image that comes to mind when I think about the influence I keep inviting into my life. I am asking for a complete break from that pattern and for the courage to fill the space with something life-giving. An unwanted image or passing thought does not make a person ruined. We can choose what we return to and what we practice.

As Christians, we have language for our spiritual struggle. Ephesians tell us that our struggle is not against flesh and blood. For me, that means I must resist the forces that turn people against one another without turning the people themselves into objects of hatred.

Trump is not the enemy. I'm not asking you to fight. Neither is the person who voted differently from you, the person on the television, or the neighbor whose opinion makes you angry. We can question decisions, resist injustice, and hold people accountable while remembering that they remain people whom we are called to love.

When I speak about the devil and division, the fight I mean is against the evil that pulls us toward hatred, cruelty, and contempt. That spiritual struggle calls me to examine my own heart. Am I helping love grow, or am I passing the anger on?

We spend so much energy fighting one another that we become easier to divide. We gather into factions. We build walls to ease our fear. We protect our group and stop listening across the wall. "A house divided against itself cannot stand." Jesus' warning should make us examine the division we help create.

I feel this concern too when I think about pornography and entertainment that repeatedly treats a woman's body as a product. Familiarity can make something seem acceptable before we have asked what it is teaching us to desire, or how it is teaching us to see another person.

I do not want my attention trained to respond to women as though a bell has rung and I have no choice but to react. I am responsible for how I look, how I speak, and how I behave. Women are not responsible for managing my self-control. They are people with dignity, judgment, and lives of their own.

I want us to protect that dignity. I want men and women to encounter respect instead of entitlement. Following Jesus should make us more able to see the whole person, more able to exercise self-control, and more able to love without using someone.

Jesus gave us the center of this life. "Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself." Those are not small instructions. They ask for our attention and the way we live.

So here is the challenge I want to offer. For one week, cut out the ordinary stream of secular media and news, social media feeds, news programs, television, and movies. Make the break complete within the responsibilities you actually have. Keep what you need for work, family, health, and urgent practical information. Keep your relationships and the people who support you.

The exception I am proposing is media that reflects Christian virtues and helps you turn towards Christ. UP Family and Faith is one alternative to consider. You can choose biblical and faith-centered titles on Angel. Be thoughtful about the individual program. A label on an app cannot make the choice for you.

For this week, set aside pornography, sexual exploitation, profanity, and entertainment that invites you to enjoy cruelty. Put down the habitual stream of outrage. Let this be a deliberate clearing of space.

Then fill that space. Read a Gospel. Listen to a Gospel. Start with Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. If reading is difficult, listening is a real way to engage with scripture. Hear the words of Jesus while you walk, sit quietly, or do an ordinary task.

Pray. Spend time with fellow believers. Share a meal. Listen to someone without checking a screen. Choose something true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and worthy of praise to dwell on. Keep Jesus close to your heart. Keep Jesus first.

During the second week, as your usual routines return, notice the difference. Do you have to return to anything you have found harmful? Ask yourself honestly, "What did I miss? What habits helped me be more patient? When was I more present? Did I listen better? Was there more room for prayer, or did I hurry to fill every quiet space again?"

The point is to notice what is shaping you and to choose your next step with that knowledge. You do not need to perform a perfect week. If you slip, begin again.

Those questions matter, but they cannot tell us whether someone is redeemable. Missing a television show or struggling with a habit is not a verdict on a person's salvation. Ephesians teaches that salvation is by grace through faith. We do not earn it by keeping a flawless media schedule.

I want this invitation to lead people towards Jesus, not to make a frightened person believe that one mistake has placed them beyond His reach. The desire to change can be the beginning of a conversation. The difficulty of changing can be a reason to seek support. Neither gives me permission to declare that another soul cannot be saved.

I believe God loves every person. Scripture speaks of His desire for people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. That is why this matters to me. Behind every distraction, every argument, and every habit is a human being whose life has worth.

I think, too, of the terrible story in Matthew of Herod ordering the killing of the children around Bethlehem. Joseph was warned in a dream to take Jesus and Mary to safety. Matthew also makes room for the grief, the weeping for children who were gone.

When I imagine those parents, I feel sorrow. I wonder what they asked, what they feared, and how their suffering could be held. Matthew does not explain why those families were not spared. I do not have to pretend to know that answer in order to grieve with them. I believe their suffering mattered to God, and it should matter to us.

Herod bears responsibility for the violence described there. The grief of the families deserves our compassion, not an explanation we cannot know. I want that story to deepen my care for people who suffer, and my determination to protect life where I can.

We do not become anybody's savior. Jesus is the savior we bear witness to. Our part is to love, to serve, to speak truthfully, and to make it easier for someone to encounter hope.

Jesus spoke with great seriousness about causing one of the little ones who believe in Him to stumble. In Matthew eighteen, He uses the terrible image of a millstone around the neck and drowning in the sea to show how serious that harm is.

I hear that as a warning to me. When a child is learning about Jesus, when a new believer comes with an earnest question, or when someone's whose faith is fragile tries to begin again, I must handle that trust with care.

I should not use fear to control them. I should not humiliate them for asking. I should not make my personal interpretation a barrier they have to cross before they can be loved. Whatever authority I have, I am accountable for the way I use it.

That warning is a call to protect the vulnerable. It is not permission to threaten people who disagree with us, or to pronounce an eternal sentence over somebody whose heart we cannot see.

We can speak seriously about sin and still speak with humility. We can believe evil will be judged and still leave final judgment to God. We can call people to repentance while remembering our own need for grace.

If I ask people to leave division behind, then my own words must leave room for listening. If I ask people to reject objectification, then my own words must honor their humanity. If I ask people to make room for Jesus, then they should be able to encounter patience and kindness in a way I approach them.

This is part of being set free, learning to respond with love instead of allowing fear, appetite, or anger to make every decision for us. That freedom can grow through prayer, practice, honest conversation, and help from people who care.

This is why Margee Iddings' story matters to me. At Rising Phoenix, Christian faith took practical form in hospitality, welcome, meaningful work, healing, and the possibility of a new beginning. People were invited into a place where their lives mattered.

We hope to preserve that place. We are seeking someone capable of acquiring and sustaining it. But even if we lose the building, we do not have to lose the invitation to live with that kind of love.

These reflections are my own, inspired by what her example calls me to consider. To me, carrying Margee's torch means that the story continues in the way we treat the person God has placed before us.

Make room at your table. Invite someone who feels alone to share a meal, and let them know their presence matters.

Listen with love. Give someone your attention before deciding what their story must be.

Help someone begin again. Offer a ride, encouragement, practical help, or an introduction that opens a door.

Welcome across differences. Treat people whose lives or beliefs differ from yours with dignity and compassion.

Keep showing up. A small kindness offered faithfully can become a friendship. A friendship can make a new beginning feel possible.

That is the message I want carried forward. Share Margee's story. Share the appeal with someone who might help preserve Rising Phoenix, and carry this part of the torch into your own home, your own church, and your own ordinary day.

Paul wrote, "I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me." He wrote about learning to live through plenty and through need. I hear strength for faithful living in those words, strength to serve, to endure, to change, and to take the next step when I do not know the outcome.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can take the next small step in love, and so can you.

Let us pray. Jesus, help me make room for You. Help us notice what is shaping our hearts. Give us wisdom to test our impressions, courage to change our habits, and humility to receive help. Teach us to see our neighbors with love, protect the vulnerable, comfort those who grieve. Help us carry forward every good thing we have received with open hands and faithful hearts. Amen.