From Strange Fire to Authentic Fire to Selfish Fire....
What is the root of all the fuss between cessation and continuation?
Michael Brown Authentic Fire; John Mac Arthur Strange fire ;
Know them by their fruits; Phil Johnson Video ;
We need to make the tree good;
The selfish root;
Deut 8:18 wealth is for the covenant ;
Keep our selfish bodies under subjection;
Phil 2:3-4; Rom 12:10; 1Cor 10:24; Gal 6:2;
Take focus off of ourselves;
Humility , think of ourselves less;
Actually bearing burdens;
Jas 4:1-4; 1 Timothy 6:5; 2Tim 3:2-5;
Jude 1:16-18 ;
We are allowing our flesh to read the bible;
selfishness causes self deceit;
Selfishness in prayer;
Matt 6:9-13 Lord's prayer model;
I've got a question that's been burning deep in my spirit, weighing heavily on my heart and convicting me: am I offering the Lord something that costs me nothing, some cheap and easy sacrifice that requires no real effort or commitment on my part? That piercing line from King David in 2 Samuel 24:24 in the King James Version has been reading me lately, searching my heart and exposing my motivations. This isn't mere theory or abstract theology for me — this is deeply personal and intensely practical. I've been on my knees in prayer, earnestly asking God to take things away from my life — destructive cravings that pull me away from Him, ingrained habits that have taken root over years, convenient shortcuts that compromise my walk with Him — and sometimes, in His sovereign grace and mercy, He does it instantly, miraculously removing the burden in a single moment. Other times, in His infinite wisdom, He hands me a cross to carry and walks faithfully with me through the refining fire of the process, step by difficult step. Both responses, the instant deliverance and the long journey, are expressions of His perfect love.
A Father Who Paid Full Price
The gospel is not a discount coupon or a bargain-basement deal; it is a cross, a place of ultimate sacrifice and unfathomable cost. The apostle Paul reminds us in Romans 5:8 (KJV), "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The Father in heaven did not hesitate or blink at the enormous cost required to redeem humanity. Consider the patriarch Abraham, who lifted the knife over his beloved son Isaac in obedience to God's command, and at the last moment God intervened and stayed his hand, providing a ram in the thicket. But when we arrive at Calvary, at that hill outside Jerusalem where Jesus hung between heaven and earth, the Father did not stay His hand. He allowed His only begotten Son to be bruised, pierced, and crushed for our iniquities. That is love that pays the full retail price—love that holds nothing back, love that spares no expense. If that is the manner in which heaven has loved me, poured out everything for my redemption, then how can I possibly turn around and offer back to God mere pocket change, leftover scraps, or sacrifices that cost me nothing at all?
When Jesus Becomes First… For Real
Jesus said if we love our father, mother, son, or daughter more than Him, we're not worthy of Him (Matthew 10:37 KJV). That verse used to frighten me and make me uncomfortable until I finally realized and understood that it isn't Jesus devaluing family or diminishing the importance of our earthly relationships; rather, it's Jesus establishing and enthroning Himself as the supreme Lord and ultimate authority over every area of our lives. When He's genuinely first in our hearts and priorities, when He truly occupies that throne in our lives, then everything else—our family relationships, our work, our dreams, our daily decisions—finally and beautifully finds its proper place in the divine order that God intended. Obedience to Him stops feeling like painful loss or burdensome sacrifice and starts feeling like genuine freedom, like the liberation it was always meant to be.
Microwaves, Miracles, and the Long Walk of Repentance
I've begged God for the microwave version, the instant solution, the quick fix that requires no effort or time on my part. "Lord, just wave Your hand like Naaman the Syrian commander expected when he came to Elisha seeking healing" (2 Kings 5). Naaman wanted a grand gesture, a spectacular show of power, but instead he was told to go dip himself seven times in the Jordan River—a simple, humble, repetitive act of obedience. But the Bible is clear and explicit in teaching us that God gives repentance as a gift, then we acknowledge and confess the truth of our condition, and then—and only then—we recover ourselves out of the snare of the enemy (2 Timothy 2:25–26 KJV). The process is often gradual, intentional, and requires our active participation. Sometimes breakthrough looks like a daily walk with the Good Shepherd, a step-by-step journey of trust and obedience, not a magic wand that instantly transforms everything in a single moment. The apostle Paul prayed three times, earnestly and fervently, asking God to remove his thorn in the flesh, and what he heard back from heaven was not what he expected: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9 KJV). Weakness became the stage, the platform, the very arena for God's strength to be displayed in all its glory. I've lived that reality. I've walked through seasons where I felt utterly insufficient, completely inadequate, and entirely dependent on Him. In my weakness, when I have nothing left to offer, He shines brightest, and His power is made manifest in ways I could never accomplish in my own strength.
Fasting: A Love That Feels Like Hunger
There are certain spiritual mountains, certain insurmountable obstacles and seemingly impossible situations, that only move and shift "by prayer and fasting" (Mark 9:29 KJV). Fasting is the sacred discipline through which my physical body begins to learn, understand, and internalize what my spirit already knows deep within: Jesus is bread enough, He is sufficient, He is all I truly need to sustain me. When I deliberately and intentionally push away the plate, when I say no to physical food and earthly satisfaction, I'm not punishing myself or practicing some form of self-inflicted misery — rather, I'm intentionally making room, creating space in my life for more of Him, clearing out the clutter so that I can hear His voice more clearly and feel His presence more intimately. "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled" (Matthew 5:6 KJV). The physical hunger pangs I experience during a fast become a spiritual love song, a constant reminder throughout the day that I am choosing to hunger for Him above all else, that I am thirsting for His righteousness more than I desire earthly comfort or temporary satisfaction.
Little Altars, Every Day
David could have accepted the free ox and the free threshing floor that were offered to him, but he refused and insisted on paying the full price anyway — and as a result of his costly sacrifice, the devastating plague that had been ravaging the people came to an abrupt stop (2 Samuel 24). That story carries a powerful message and profound truth that resonates deeply with me. Every single time I make the deliberate decision to delete the app that causes me to stumble and trip me up spiritually, every time I humbly confess the half-truth or white lie I told when I could have easily kept it hidden, or every time I intentionally get up early in the morning to meet with God when I could have stayed in bed and slept in, I'm essentially buying that threshing floor all over again in my own life. I'm building little altars of sacrifice, small monuments of obedience, every single day of my walk with Christ. That's precisely what the apostle Paul is referring to in Romans 12:1 when he calls us to present our bodies as a "living sacrifice" — not a one-time grand gesture, but an ongoing, daily, continuous offering to the Lord. It happens breath by breath, moment by moment. It unfolds choice by choice, decision by decision, as we navigate the countless small opportunities to honor God that present themselves throughout our day.
Your Fire Might Free Somebody Else
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to bow down or negotiate with the idols that the king had erected; instead, they made the courageous decision to walk directly into the fiery furnace, trusting God completely — and as a result of their unwavering faithfulness and bold obedience, an entire nation, including King Nebuchadnezzar himself, witnessed the Fourth Man walking with them in the midst of the flames (Daniel 3). Sometimes the obedience and sacrifice that God is calling you to walk out isn't solely about your own personal journey or individual spiritual growth. Your children, your spouse, your church family, your neighbors, your community, and your town may all be quietly watching, observing closely as you make the deliberate choice to follow Jesus even when that decision comes with a significant cost, even when it requires real sacrifice, even when it means standing alone. Testimony is powerfully contagious and spreads like holy fire from one heart to another. #TeamJesus
Let’s Get Practical
Here's what I'm personally committing to do this week, and I want to invite you to walk this journey alongside me and join me in these specific, practical steps of obedience.
Ask Jesus, “What’s one thing You want me to lay down right now?” Write it. Obey it the same day.
Fast one meal and pray for clarity about your “one thing.” Listen with an open Bible.
Remove a provision for the flesh. Replace it with a Scripture habit. Example: delete the trigger and memorize Romans 13:14.
Make it right where your choices hurt others. Repent, reconcile, and move forward.
Daily prayer: “Lord Jesus, I choose the costly yes. Teach me to love You with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength.”
Scriptures To Camp In (KJV)
2 Samuel 24:10–25. Romans 12:1–2. Matthew 10:34–39. Luke 9:23–26. 2 Timothy 2:25–26. 2 Corinthians 12:7–10. Daniel 3. Psalm 23. 2 Chronicles 7:14.
Friend, cheap religion won’t carry a cross. But when love costs us something, grace meets us there. Let’s buy the threshing floor together — and watch God heal the land.
I didn’t wake up to angels singing. I was just in the shower, steam fogging the mirror, praying the same simple prayer I’ve been praying for years: “Lord, teach me to hear You better.” Somewhere between the shampoo and the rinse, I saw it—just a quick snapshot in my spirit of the West Biloxi Library. No voice. No thunder. Just a picture. And I knew two things at the same time: it could be the Lord… and I wouldn’t find out sitting still.
That’s the tension I live in. I love Scripture. I’m the “dig deeper” guy. But the Author I love keeps inviting me from the page into the harvest. “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit” (Zechariah 4:6 KJV) isn’t a pretty verse for a coffee mug. It’s either the rule of the day, or we’re just performing for each other. I don’t want performance. I want presence.
Packing the Trunk, Checking My Heart
It was going to get cold on the Coast, which means the little things matter even more. Susan and I have learned to keep it simple: dollar‑store snacks, water bottles, toothbrushes from the flea market, travel toothpaste if we can find it cheap, Bibles—always Bibles. We’ve even made scarves out of inexpensive fleece because warmth is ministry when the temperature drops. Jesus ties our love for Him to how we treat “the least of these” (Matthew 25:35‑40 KJV). You can’t read that and then step over people.
I’d like to tell you I was brimming with faith. Truth is, I was hopeful and a little wobbly. I’ve heard God powerfully before, and I’ve also chased my own ideas. That’s why I say it out loud now: “Lord, if this is You, confirm it. And if it’s just me, please shepherd me anyway.”
A Pier, Two Bicycles, and the Presence That Does the Heavy Lifting
On the way to the library we stopped at the pier. Two men sat by their bikes. I opened with a corny line—“Hey, free bicycles!”—and we all laughed. The ice broke. We asked names. We listened. One man told me about the pawn shop Katrina took from him, about sleeping rough for years, about the friend beside him who watches his back. I’ve learned that listening is a prayer too. It says, “You matter.”
When we finally prayed, the air changed. I have no better way to describe it. My words weren’t special. But the Holy Spirit was. One of the men was visibly moved. I’ve long since stopped trying to win arguments; I’d rather usher the presence of God and let Him do what only He can. Paul said his preaching wasn’t with “enticing words” but in “demonstration of the Spirit and of power” (1 Corinthians 2:4‑5 KJV). That’s what it felt like—God doing the heavy lifting while we stood there with open hands.
Sowers Don’t Stare at Dirt
As we left the pier, I caught myself wondering about results—about what would happen next, about whether the prayers would "work," about whether these men would actually open the Bibles we'd given them. Pastors, by training and by habit, love metrics; we want to see baptisms, decisions, measurable growth. Farmers, on the other hand, love rain—they understand that some things are simply beyond their control, that they can plant and water but they cannot manufacture the harvest. Jesus tells us a profound truth when He describes the sower who sleeps and rises night and day, "and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how" (Mark 4:27 KJV). That passage is liberating if you truly let it be, if you allow it to sink deep into your heart and redefine what it means to be faithful. We sow the seed—that's our part, our responsibility, our calling. God grows the harvest—that's His part, His sovereignty, His power at work in ways we may never fully understand. Some fruit ripens in a moment, like the thief on the cross beside Jesus. Some fruit takes a decade to mature, growing slowly through seasons of struggle and breakthrough. And some fruit appears only after we're gone, long after we've left this earth, when someone finally remembers a word we spoke or a kindness we showed and it becomes the turning point in their journey. Faithfulness, I've come to understand, is simply obedience multiplied by time—it's showing up consistently, trusting God with outcomes we cannot control, and refusing to measure our worth by results we may never see.
The First "No" and the Orchestrated Traffic
We finally made it near the library. Across the street, a man sat alone. I thought, “That’s him. The reason for the snapshot.” We crossed with a bag and a Bible and a willingness to pray. He wanted none of it. I stood there with my good intentions and a knot in my stomach. Did I miss the Lord? That old second‑guessing monster is never far away.
Traffic was thick enough to pen us in on the curb for a minute, and in that delay I felt the Lord’s kindness. A bus bench was just up the sidewalk. I heard myself ask the people waiting, “Anybody need prayer?” A woman said yes so quickly it startled me. She had found her roommate dead, and now the grief had a landlord attached to it. We prayed in the roar of cars, and the peace that passes understanding didn’t ask for quiet first. James says, “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed” (James 5:16 KJV). Right there on the bench, she started opening up, naming burdens, letting them go. The Lord came like warm oil over cold water.
The Library Steps, Just Like the Picture
When we finally stood in front of the library—the exact image from the shower—a woman didn’t even wait for pleasantries. “I need prayer bad,” she said, and she meant it. We prayed. I put a small Bible in her hands and watched her grip it like a lifeline. A man named Mike was nearby, charging his phone. He lit up when we talked chess—openings, traps, the middle game. Connection isn’t a trick; it’s love wearing whatever clothes are nearby. Mike asked for prayer for his son, so we prayed with the same expectation we’d pray for a king.
As we said “Amen,” I sensed someone behind me and to the left. Sometimes the Spirit taps you on the shoulder; sometimes He nudges you between the ribs. I turned, and a woman from upstate New York said her own “Amen.” Before she spoke another word, I recognized the smell of the old life I’d left—the counterfeit spirituality I once chased when I didn’t know the Shepherd’s voice. Jesus said take the beam out first, then you can see clearly to help with the speck (Matthew 7:3‑5 KJV). That day, what I once repented of became a key in my pocket. We prayed Jesus over the places that had lied to her, and the truth settled like a weight that sets a picture straight on the wall.
Compass, Not Blueprint
People often ask me how they can truly know and discern the will of God for their lives, and when they do, I find myself thinking about that pivotal moment in Acts chapter 16, when the apostle Paul was absolutely certain and convinced that he was supposed to preach the gospel in Asia, but then the Holy Spirit specifically forbade him from going there—and it wasn't until later, through a night vision, that God redirected and shifted his entire trajectory toward Macedonia instead. And what happened as a result of that redirection? An entire jailer's household came to faith and found salvation through Jesus Christ. The Lord, in my experience, rarely if ever hands me a detailed spreadsheet or a comprehensive blueprint of all the next steps I should take. Instead, He gives me a general direction to follow, a gentle nudge in my spirit, sometimes a specific face that I can't shake from my mind, or a particular place that keeps coming up. Jesus Himself is described as the way, the truth, and the life, and I believe that ways are meant to be walked out step by step in faith and obedience, not meticulously diagrammed or mapped out in advance with every detail pre-planned.
The Trunk Theology of Street Ministry
We keep our trunk stocked and supplied like a traveling altar, ready at a moment's notice: fleece scarves for warmth, bottled water for thirst, peanut‑butter sandwiches for hunger, toothbrushes and travel toothpaste for dignity, and Bibles—always Bibles—for the soul. None of those individual items feel particularly miraculous or supernatural when you're standing in the checkout line purchasing them at the dollar store. But when they are placed in the right hands at exactly the right time, under the guidance and direction of the Holy Spirit, they are mysteriously transformed and elevated into sacraments of practical, tangible love—physical expressions of the gospel made manifest in everyday objects. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world" (James 1:27 KJV). We don't need to overthink obedience or complicate what God has made simple. We need to overstock compassion, to be abundantly prepared with the tools and resources that allow us to meet people's needs the very moment the Holy Spirit orchestrates a divine appointment.
What the Lord Pressed Into My Heart
That day reminded me that God is a master of small obediences. A snapshot in the shower became a woman comforted at a bus stop, a chess‑playing dad interceding for his son, a hungry heart clutching a Bible, and a former New Ager hearing the name that frees captives. I didn’t orchestrate any of it. I just kept saying yes.
And yes, I still wondered on the drive home if I did it right. I’m learning that wondering is okay as long as it doesn’t keep me from going again. The field is wide. The Lord of the harvest is kind. And He likes to use people who admit they’re still learning His voice.
“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” (Galatians 6:9 KJV)
Action Items
Ask the Lord for one person to bless this week. Write the name down and pray daily.
Assemble 5 simple care bags and keep them in your vehicle.
Memorize 3 pocket verses: Matthew 25:35‑40, James 5:16, Luke 4:18 (KJV).
Practice asking, “How can I pray for you right now?” and then listen longer than feels comfortable.
Journal your encounters that same day. Look for God’s fingerprints in the traffic, timing, and “interruptions.”
Final Encouragement
You don’t need a trumpet to obey a whisper. If all you have is a snapshot, take the step it points to. The worst that can happen is you loved someone in Jesus’ name. The best that can happen is heaven touches earth on a pier, at a bus stop, or on the steps of a library—and you get to be there when it happens.
