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Of Yeast and Fruit

February 4, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/6ZLWDnv3OysdpqHrZkG4U8?si=no3PICEVQ16pJLeow_a3Jg

For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it.
James 2:10 (NIV)

Monday was one of my favorite days. Wendy made fresh, homemade Italian bread. The aroma wafting up the stairs into my home office was intoxicating. Whenever Wendy makes Italian bread she always cuts off a slice while the loaf is still warm from the oven, bathes it in butter, and brings it to me.

A little slice of heaven on earth.

The last couple of times Wendy made her Italian bread things didn’t go as planned. She’s not sure what happened. Fresh bread can be finicky, especially in the rising.

From ancient of days, yeast was used as a metaphor for sin. The Law of Moses prescribed that the Hebrews should eat bread without yeast. Jesus warned His followers to “beware the yeast of the pharisees,” meaning that for all their self-righteous pomp and religiosity, their hearts were full of corruption. Jesus didn’t want His followers following a similar path.

Back in the days when everyone made bread fresh at home, yeast was a meaningful metaphor. Everyone knew that a teensy-tiny pinch of yeast will spread through the entire lump of dough, causing the whole thing to rise. In the same way, one tiny sin infects my entire being.

In God’s economy, there is no more-or-less sinful. Sin is a binary measurement. It’s all-or-nothing. If you’re sinful the whole person is infected. No one “has just a touch” of the Bubonic plague.

And, that’s James’ point in today’s chapter as he continues to argue that God’s ways are not our ways. The world loves to play favorites. The wealthy and famous get maximum screen time and VIP treatment. When it comes to the poor and homeless we look the other way and quickly scurry past them on the street. In God’s economy, everyone is measured by the yeast standard. As Bob Dylan sang it, “Ain’t No Man Righteous — No Not One.”

But then James does something amazing. He applies the reverse logic to faith. If sin is like yeast that spreads to the whole lump of dough and causes unrighteousness of all kinds to rise within me, then faith is like a tiny mustard seed that germinates, takes root, grows and bears the fruit of the Spirit. And what fruit does the faith-fueled seed produce?

Works. Deeds. Tangible acts of love towards other human beings that reveal…

Joy.
Peace.
Patience.
Kindness.
Goodness.
Gentleness.
Faithfulness.
Self-control.

James is poking at the very principle he’d heard his big brother preach on many occasions. If a tree isn’t producing fruit that you can see, pick, and taste, then it tells you something about the tree.

A teensy pinch of yeast? The whole dough is tainted.
No fruit on the branches? No faith in the root system.

And this, in the quiet of this morning, leaves me meditating on how desperately I want the measurement of God’s economy to be different. I want sin to be a sprained ankle not a deadly infection coursing through my entire being. I want faith to be measured by the appearance of healthy leaves on the branches. Pay no attention to the fact that there’s no decent fruit to be found.

I can’t do that, and James knows it. I can’t take an honest look at myself in the mirror and pretend that I don’t see the honest truth staring back at me.

I am hopelessly infected by sin.

Jesus’ love-fueled grace and mercy is the only cure.

If I have faith to believe and receive the cure.

It will be evidenced in the tangible outpouring of that love to everyone around me.

Paul told the Corinthian believers that when Jesus’ Love gets inside you and then starts pouring out it creates a spiritual aroma.

I’d like to think it’s like the aroma of fresh baked Italian bread.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Promotional graphic for Tom Vander Well's Wayfarer blog and podcast, featuring icons of various podcast platforms with a photo of Tom Vander Well. — These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Book Summary List

James (February 2026)

February 3, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

Each photo below corresponds to the chapter-a-day post for the book of James published by Tom Vander Well in February of 2026. Click on the photo linked to each chapter to read the post.

Chapter-a-Day

Not Our Ways

February 3, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position. But the rich should take pride in their humiliation—since they will pass away like a wild flower.
James 1:9-10 (NIV)

I’m in the final edit of my forthcoming book, which tells the story of how I, as a young man, had the unshakable belief that I was called to pastoral ministry and had zero interest in business. Then, God let me slog through six long years of personal purgatory in pastoral ministry and made it divinely clear that He was calling me to business.

That business? Analyzing phone calls. Over 100,000 of them from companies of all sizes and industries. Receptionists, customer support, inside sales, reservations, outbound sales, accounting, tech support, collections, emergency services, and just about any other function you can think of. I’ve learned about business from the inside out, in tens of thousands of moments of truth when a company interacts with their customers.

I’ve been blessed. I’ve done well. I was hired in 1994 with zero experience or interest. Now I own the company.

God has a sense of humor.

Now let me let you in on a little secret. I don’t really like to talk about business, or economics, or finance that much. I love my clients. I love serving them. I love applying my experience and knowledge to help my clients and their employees succeed in listening to their customers and improving their serve. What I really care about is the people. I care about the flesh-and-blood of business where clients, customers, and colleagues connect, conflict, and communicate.

Life has informed my business. Lessons from my business have fed the Life within me. That’s what my book is about. The career I never wanted — and the one God knew would save me.

His ways are not our ways.

Today our chapter-a-day trek takes a quick pass through the letter of James. This is not James as in one of Jesus’ twelve disciples, but rather James the Just — Jesus’ younger brother. He once thought Jesus was crazy, then he watched and listened. He saw his big brother risen from the dead. He became one of the strongest and most influential leaders of the Jesus Movement and was killed for it.

There has been a crackdown. Both Jewish leaders and Romans are persecuting believers, so followers of Jesus have scattered abroad to escape the threat of imprisonment, seizure of their assets, torture, and potential execution. James writes this letter to be copied, sent out, and passed around to all of those who have fled and are living life on the lam.

As I read through the chapter in the quiet this morning, I couldn’t help but pick up on a strong undercurrent in James’ encouragement.

His ways are not our ways.

The world tells us that comfort and ease are what we should strive for, that they are signs of success in life.

In God’s economy, trials and difficulties are profitable — necessary means of spiritual growth and maturity.

The world tells us that money and wealth is the most important and desirable thing in life.

In God’s economy, worldly wealth is spiritual poverty. Eternal treasure is found in contentment. Spiritual investments compound when I humbly find satisfaction with less.

The world views religion as the repetitive ritual motions around a set of doctrinal beliefs.

In God’s economy, true religion is faith in action on the street and in every day life. Caring for those in need. Tangibly loving others at home, in my community, and even in my business where I serve my flesh-and-blood clients and their team members.

His ways are not my ways. I’ve spent my entire spiritual journey learning this truth. In fact, the further I get in this life the more I come to understand just how pervasively true it is in every way. The more I understand it, the more it changes how I see and perceive everything in life.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to work. I have a big research presentation I’m working on for a client tomorrow. Not because of the paycheck it affords me, but because of the people I am called to serve.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Journey’s End

February 2, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.
Deuteronomy 34:5 (NIV)

I mentioned in one of my posts last week that the third anniversary of my mom’s passing is approaching. The dark and cold of winter bring back sense memory of it for me. It is a moment I will forever hold dear; sitting there at her bed with my dad and sister as she slipped into eternity.

Death is a holy moment.

There is a genuine sobriety of spirit one experiences when, in an instant, there is one less life in the room.

Death is also an intimate moment.

My mother gave me the gift of life. To be with her as she stepped through the veil was meaningful in ways I can’t express.

Today’s short and final chapter of Deuteronomy tells the story of Moses. It is more than a simple retelling. Like the moment of death itself, it is holy. It is intimate.

Jewish tradition sees something in the text that is easily missed in the English translation.

al-pî YHWH

Word for word:

ʿal – “upon / by”
pî – “mouth”
YHWH – “the LORD”

So the literal rendering is unmistakable: “by the mouth of the LORD.”

The phrase in its usual and common context modifies a command. Priests act “by the mouth of the Lord.” Commands are give “by the mouth of Moses.”

But, Deuteronomy 34:5 is not your usual and common context. We’re not dealing with a command, but the death of God’s man. The chapter is careful to point out that Moses was not frail at the end. He had strong sight and plenty of vigor. He was not failing. He was simply finished with his earthly task.

Moses dies “by the mouth of the LORD.”

As God breathed life into Adam, He similarly receives Moses’ life.

A divine kiss.

Intimate.

Holy.

Then the text continues to amaze as God Himself buries Moses in an unmarked grave just short of the Promised Land to which he led the people but will not enter himself.

No shrine. No spectacle. No packed national assembly. It’s just God and His man Moses. Received with a kiss. God digs the grave. God prepares the body. God buries Moses. Alone.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on what I can learn from Moses in the end.

I will never see the full fruit of my work. I may not watch the final act of the story I helped God author. I may not get credit, closure, or an ovation. Yet, I can still finish this earthly journey fulfilled.

Moses teaches me to let go of outcomes without resentment. He encourages me to bless the next generation without envy. He whispers assurance that I can trust God with the ending I don’t get to choreograph.

God asks me to steward, not complete.

And then—I get to climb the mountain anyway.
To look.
To bless.
To let go.

God will meet me there. He’ll take care of everything.

Tomorrow our chapter-a-day journey begins a quick trek through James.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Blessing

January 30, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

“This is the blessing that Moses the man of God pronounced on the Israelites before his death….”
Deuteronomy 33:1 (NIV)

This past Sunday I delivered the morning message among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. At the beginning of the message I showed a photograph of our family gathered on New Year’s weekend, just a few weeks ago. The entire crew was gathered at the table for a meal in all the glorious mess of three generations.

The table, the dining room floor, indeed the entire house – they get messy when the whole family gathers. And, I’m not just referring to food crumbs. That was the metaphor that carried through my message. Jesus invites the whole family to the table. It gets messy, and yet He asks us to stay.

In family (both nuclear and spiritual), every individual part contributes to the love of the whole.

Today’s chapter is Moses’ final act. His role as leader-judge-prophet-priest will end with him. His is not a box on the org chart to be filled. A succession plan was never a consideration. There’s no favored son groomed for elevation. Moses does not pout or demand a severance of legacy. He foreshadows and embodies the sentiment Paul would later express when he wrote, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

Moses’ final act is to bless the twelve Hebrew tribes one-by-one. As I meditated on the blessings. A couple of things stood out.

First, in Jewish tradition, blessings are less about forecasting the future and more about naming reality—calling forth what is already true beneath the surface. Moses is not predicting outcomes; he is bestowing identity.

Just as I look around the table from toddler grandchildren to adult daughters and sons. Each is unique. No two are the same. They each, in their own unique identity, bring themselves to the table and with each of them comes a part of the blessing of family.

And, this leads to the next observation.

No tribe is cursed. Even the complicated ones—and, honestly they each have their own “troubles”—are not shamed. Silence, yes. Erasure, no. Where earlier stories carried fracture, Moses now offers healing through words.

And, to me, most importantly: Israel is blessed together. No tribe receives fullness apart from the others. The blessing is communal—interdependent, embodied, shared.

In the quiet this morning, I find the chapter inviting me to do something wildly countercultural:

Receive blessing without scrambling to deserve it.

Moses blesses warriors and poets, priests and homebodies, the strong and the sheltered. Not because they nailed it—but because God chose them.

It’s easy for me to slip into “blessing is a performance review” mode. Others times, my Enneagram Type Four shame whispers to my soul that God’s blessing has been passed out and I was skipped altogether.

Moses says “no” to both lies.

I am blessed before I arrive.
I am carried even when I wander.
I am named even in the silence.

That’s the beauty, and the shalom, that I find in the Great Story. Moses exits stage left. The Story goes on, even to this.very.day.

The God who went before them…
is the God who goes before me.
Jesus invited me to the table, and asked me to stay.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

A Love Song that Aches

January 29, 2026 Tom Vander Well 2 Comments

Jeshurun grew fat and kicked;
filled with food, they became heavy and sleek.
They abandoned the God who made them
and rejected the Rock their Savior.
Deuteronomy 32:15 (NIV)

If you hang out with Wendy and me for any length of time, you’ll soon notice that Wendy is not “Wendy” to me. She is “Luv,” or I more commonly prefer, “M’Luv.”

When I train clients on the art of customer service, I always talk about names. Names are important because names imply relationship, and customers typically desire more than a transaction when they find themselves in a tough spot – they want a personal service relationship.

One of the funny things about names is that the more intimate the relationship the more intimate the moniker we use for the “other” in relationship. An acquaintance might begin being referenced by a simple pronoun. (e.g. “him,” “her”). Relationship is established and names are learned and used (e.g. “John,” “Mary”). When relationship becomes intimate, we create pet names for one another (e.g. “Darling,” “Sweetheart”). Or, in the case of me and Wendy, “M’Luv.”

Here’s what is fascinating. When relationships break down, the cycle works in reverse. Amidst divorce, the woman I once referred to “Sweetheart” is easily reduced to “my children’s mother” or even back to the impersonal pronoun “her.”

In yesterday’s post/podcast I reference about this crazy idea God gives Moses, to give His people a song. In today’s chapter, Moses teaches the people the song. It’s a doozy. It’s less Love Me Do and more Symphonie Fantastique. Epic in length, it has five distinct movements:

God is introduced as The Rock—steady, faithful, just.
Israel is remembered as the one God carried, fed, and taught to walk.
Then comes the heartbreak: prosperity leads to forgetfulness; forgetfulness leads to idolatry.
Judgment follows—not as cruelty, but as consequence.
Yet the song does not end in wrath. It ends in vindication, mercy, and restoration.

The ancient Hebrews were all about structure in math, literature, poetry, and music. When it comes to song lyrics, the center of the lyrics is almost always the thematic hub and everything expands outward on either side of it. So, notice the center bullet of the summary above. The center of Moses’ Song is:

Jeshurun grew fat and kicked…

As I went down the rabbit hole of meditation and study on Moses’ Song in the quiet this morning, two important things emerged for me.

First, the prophesied rebellion of God’s people does not happen out of suffering, trial, or condemnation. It happens when things go well.

Blessing increases wealth.
Wealth brings abundance.
Abundance breeds comfort…
and comfort makes us fat.

It is not in adversity we forget God, but in prosperity.

Yet notice how God addresses them at this central moment He calls them out: Jeshurun.

This is a name that is rarely used in the Great Story, and names are important.

Jeshurun can be translated “My beloved, upright people.” It’s not the common and neutral every day name “Israel.” This is a pet name — a covenantal endearment. It is an intimate moniker whispered between lovers, not shouted in public.

And, that is what makes its use here so devastating.

Despite His beloved’s forgetfulness, rebellion, and infidelity that is at the center of this love story, God does not address her with watered down formality or impersonal pronouns. He doesn’t shift to courtroom language foreshadowing divorce court. He doubles down and addresses her with a pet name reserved for the most intimate of moments.

Jeshurun.

It does three things…

Recalls Identity
This is who you were named to be.
Highlights Irony
The Upright One has developed scoliosis.
The straight one has grown crooked through comfort.
Deepens the Betrayal
This isn’t rebellion by strangers.
This is infidelity by the beloved.

At the heart of it, Moses is saying: “You did not forget God because you were oppressed. You forgot Him because you were satisfied.”

That is the ache of the song.

It is also, for me, a sobering spiritual reminder. Here in the quiet of my office I sit in prosperity and abundance smack dab in the middle of the wealthiest most affluent empire that has ever risen on the face of the earth in all of human history.

If there’s anyone at high-risk for forgetting God, it’s me.

A good reminder for me to carry into my day. A good conversation to unpack over coffee and breakfast with M’Luv.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

“Give Them a Song”

January 28, 2026 Tom Vander Well 3 Comments

“Now write down this song and teach it to the Israelites and have them sing it, so that it may be a witness for me against them.”
Deuteronomy 31:19 (NIV)

I was scrolling through all the playlists in my Spotify music library the other day. I have a lot of them. I came across the playlist I’d made for my mom towards the bottom. This coming St. Patrick’s Day will be three years since we gathered to celebrate her heavenly homecoming. In a funny way, music became the last language my mother and I shared.

I made a short playlist of favorite songs from her youth. I and my siblings were taking turns caring for her while our dad was in the hospital, and I would play the list while we were in the car driving. Her Alzheimer’s was so advanced that by the time we got to the songs at the end of the playlist she had forgotten that we’d even played the songs at the beginning.

I drove and she sang repeatedly through the short playlist. She remembered every word of the lyrics even as she announced with every repeated song. “Oh! I haven’t heard this song in a long time. This is a ‘goldy oldy!'”

In her final days at the care center she would be visited in her room by music therapists.

“Do you know the the song…,” the therapist would ask.

Mom always shook her head.

Then she proceeded to sing right along with them.

In all of creation, God infused music with a secret super power. It embeds itself in our minds. It sinks into our souls. It attaches itself to memories. As soon as I hear the opening guitar riff of Long Cool Woman by the Hollies I am immediately transported to the summer of 1975. I’m in Cabin #3 at Camp Idlewood on a rainy afternoon listening to music on the 8-track with my sister and the other kids from the camp. I can see it. I can hear the laughter.

There’s just something about a song.

We’re in the homestretch of Deuteronomy. Moses has finished reminding the next generation of God’s Law. He’s written it all down so there’s a permanent record that can be read and remembered. He begins to pass the torch of leadership to Joshua.

“Wait a minute,” God says to Moses. It enters the moment almost like an interruption. “I want to give you a song, and I want you to teach it to all the people.”

Then God says, “It will be a witness for me against them.”

It’s easy to forget laws and regulations written on a scroll that only gets read every seven years.

A song embeds itself in the mind.
It sinks into the soul.
It attaches itself to memory in a way that even Alzheimer’s disease finds itself powerless to erase the tape.

“Give them a song,” God says.

He knows that in forty years when they’ve settled into the land their hearts and lives are going to wander. They will forget God. They will forget what He taught them through Moses. The song, however, will transport them immediately back to this moment on this day by the River Jordan. They’ll see the people assembled. They’ll be able to smell the river. They’ll feel the sun on their face.

God, Moses, Joshua, Torah, and covenant.

When my mother had forgotten my name, she still knew all the lyrics to Sh Boom (Life Could Be a Dream) by the Crew Cuts.

If you want someone to remember. Give them a song.
God did.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Teshuvah

January 27, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the Lord your God will gather you and bring you back.
Deuteronomy 30:4 (NIV)

As a parent, I always expected that somehow, in some way, my daughters would rebel. I hoped that I was wrong, but I’ve observed the human condition for too long to harbor any pipe dreams. As I contemplated the eventuality of their wandering — whatever that might look like — I came to a realization.

When it comes to what my young adult children do, the only thing I really control is my response.

I figured that I’d better give that some thought ahead of time. I’m glad I did. Yes, both girls had their season of wandering each in their own way, but those are their stories to tell. What I learned along the way was that my best example for parenting was Father God.

Deuteronomy has had some really tough chapters to slog through. It contains some of the most difficult and challenging of the ancient texts. But today’s chapter stands like a breath of fresh air because it gets at the heart of who God is and what God is all about. In short, God tells His Hebrew children that He knows they’re going wander. It’s not a matter of “if” but “when.” In light of this, He wants them to know teshuvah.

Teshuvah is a Hebrew word we translate into English as “return,” but like many Hebrew words one simple English word cannot contain its meaning.

Teshuvah is “return” as in go back where you belong.

It assumes something breathtaking:

You had a place.
You wandered.
That place still exists.
You are still wanted there.

Teshuvah has a rhythm.

First, there is an awakening. Something stirs. There’s discomfort. “Wait a minute. This isn’t who I want to be.” Clarity – not condemnation.

Next comes the turning. It’s not just a change in thought, it’s physical. You’ve reached second base and are as far from home as possible. You’re facing the centerfield fence. You physically make the turn toward third and the path home is right there waiting.

Then there’s naming. This isn’t a wallow in shame, but the moment of truth telling. It’s the first step of the Twelve Steps. “My life has gotten out of control. This isn’t manageable.”

The way is now open to repairing. Own it. Apologize. Make things right. You carry responsibility without drowning in it.

With that, you return home.

Today’s chapter lays out the theology of teshuvah. Jesus turned it into a love story we know as the Prodigal Son. As a young parent reflecting on how I should respond when my daughters wander, I took note of three things about the Prodigal’s father (aka Father God).

He didn’t go to the distant land to condemn his son and drag him home.
He was sitting on the front porch, eyes on the road, waiting for his son.
He ran down the road to greet his son, and escort him home.

Not a bad example to follow, I thought to myself. Trust teshuvah. Love knows the way home. If I’m wise, I’ll even keep my mouth shut. Directions aren’t necessary.

One of our daughters lived in a commune for a season with a very diverse community of individuals from all over the globe. One day she shared with me that as her comrades shared their stories most of them had no home, no support system, and they lived perpetually on the brink of hopelessness.

They had no where else to go.

“I realized,” my daughter said, “that I will never know that reality. I always have a home I can return to where I am loved and will be cared for.”

Bingo. That’s what Father God wants His children to know with all their heart and soul.

Teshuvah.

Shalom.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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Chapter-a-Day

Of Covenant and Mystery

January 26, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.
Deuteronomy 29:29 (NIV)

One of the most painful and difficult seasons of my earthly journey was the dissolution of my first marriage. It’s not a dull, focused pain, but a sharp one that branches in many directions. There are so many places it touches. There are my own personal failings and poor choices. There is the 20-20 hindsight of the many things I could have and should have said and/or done – things to which I was woefully blind at the time. There are the painful consequences and ripple effects that the end of the marriage thrust upon one another, our daughters, and those in our circles of relationship.

I remember two very strong and honest reactions from our young teen daughters at the time. I found these two to be ironic opposites. On one hand, they had seen and perceived more than I realized. A piece of them was not surprised. On the other hand, there was a desire — shot out like a demand — to know everything. A teenager’s personal Freedom of Information Act petition, proclaiming her right to know everything about the breakdown of her parents’ marriage.

What was received was disappointment. Some things might be shared and understood with time, maturity, and life experience. Time and distance is required for some things to be viewed in proper context. And, there are other things that will remain hidden, things understood only by the two who shared them.

On this life journey, not everything is meant to be known.

In today’s chapter, Moses stands before all of the Hebrews and ratifies God’s covenant with them. The Jordan River flowing behind him and the Promised Land in the distance, the ancient leader says, “Before you cross, look back.”

This chapter ratifies the covenant anew—not just for those who saw Egypt crack open, but for everyone standing there… and everyone yet unborn.

Blessing and curse are laid bare. Obedience brings life like rain on dry ground; rebellion brings rot, exile, and future nations asking, “What happened here?”

And then comes the line that purrs and growls at the same time:

“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever…”

Mystery stays veiled. Responsibility does not.

One of the most profound truths I’ve had to learn to embrace as a follower of Jesus is that mystery is intimately woven into the journey.

Some eyes see but don’t perceive.
Some ears hear but don’t understand.
Some things are hidden, even from God’s own Son.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
Matthew 24:36 (NIV)

Some things remain a mystery. The angsty teenager within me filing my own personal Freedom of Information Act petitions with my heavenly Father had to learn to live with disappointment.

Further in my journey, I found that disappointment eventually gave way to humility and faith. As I attempt to follow in Jesus’ footsteps I find in His own example a peace and complete trust to leave certain knowledge with the Father, despite what I might argue is His divine right to demand it.

That final verse of today’s covenant renewal falls like a gentle, holy hand on my shoulder this morning:

I am not required to solve God.
I am required to respond to Him.

Some things remain veiled. That’s okay.
But what has been revealed—love God, walk humbly, choose life—that belongs to me. Today. Right now.

So with humility and faith, I sign my name again in the quiet.
And I walk into a new work week embraced by covenant and mystery.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Bad Motorcycle, Better Covenant

January 23, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/5ZJESYyjKSgNI5ynr06Jz3?si=lvzs8LXvS9a7zYAHu7PgRw

“However, if you do not obey the Lord your God and do not carefully follow all his commands and decrees I am giving you today, all these curses will come on you and overtake you…”
Deuteronomy 28:15 (NIV)

Yesterday at breakfast, Wendy and I discussed an article she’d read about a string of women who became adulterous lovers of a serial adulterer. When later on life’s road the serial adulterer gained a certain amount of notoriety, the women determined to make their former lothario into their scapegoat. They are determined to ruin his life as they blame him for ruining theirs.

Fascinating.

As I meditated on the situation, what I saw in between the lines of the news article was the chaos and the unraveling of life that comes with journeying down the road of infidelity and adultery. The line I love to quote about the path of adultery is from Bob Dylan. He sings that it’s “like a bad motorcycle with the devil in the seat, going 90 miles-and-hour down a dead end street.”

Believe me, you don’t want that ride.

Today’s chapter is arguably as tough as it gets when it comes to harsh Old Testament language. It’s the kind of chapter that causes modern readers to close the book and walk away. There’s so much going on beneath the surface of this chapter that I could write an entire book unpacking it—but let me try to do it succinctly.

Today’s chapter follows a well-established pattern of what we call an Ancient Near Eastern suzerainty treaty. A suzerainty was a dominant king who, in expanding his empire, would take over foreign cities and people groups. They became his vassals. The suzerainty treaty was one the king would make with vassals he’d conquered and who were now under his sovereignty and protection. These treaties had a distinct pattern they followed, and one of the pieces of that pattern was to briefly explain the blessings the vassals would experience by being faithful to their new king followed by a long host of agonizing consequences they would experience if they were unfaithful.

Today’s chapter follows the exact pattern of these suzerainty treaties, with God as the suzerain and the Hebrews as the people he’s entering into a covenant with. It was intended by the ancients to act like a prenuptial agreement. It briefly highlights the blessings the bride could expect in the relationship (life, abundance, provision, blessing) and then goes to great lengths describing in the harshest terms the unraveling that comes with infidelity and disobedience (death, destitution, poverty, chaos).

The suzerain was saying “You don’t want to hop on the back of that motorcyle.”

Now, hang with me because it gets better. I know that in the Great Story everything is connected, and today’s chapter is no different. The primary difference between typical suzerain treaties and today’s chapter is that the suzerain was typically a distant monarch sitting on his foreign throne. God has drawn up the covenant in the covenant language the Hebrews were used to, but He isn’t distant. He’s right there in the middle of their camp. He showed up and introduced Himself. He delivered them from Egypt then joined them on their wilderness journey. The blessings and curses presented are not from a distant, conquering foreign king but a divine suitor who for 40 years has been wooing them. God wants a good marriage with this people.

By the time you reach Deuteronomy 28, Israel already has a problem baked into the dough.

The covenant assumes:
A faithful people
A loyal vassal
A nation that listens, obeys, trusts

But Scripture immediately begins narrating the truth:
The Hebrews cannot sustain covenant faithfulness.

The blessings are glorious – but the curses become prophetic autobiography.

The Old Testament tension is not:
“Will God be faithful?”
It’s:
“Can Israel be?”
And the answer—generation after generation throughout the Great Story—is a weary, sheepish “no.”

When the Son of God appears on the scene, He doesn’t come as the suzerain King but as an every day carpenter — just another one of the vassals. As a human being, Jesus walks the same path as the Hebrews, but with fidelity.

Hebrews —> 40 years in the wilderness grumbling, testing God
Jesus —> 40 days in the wilderness, tempted but faithful

And when Jesus responds to the devil’s temptation, He quotes — wait for it — Deuteronomy.

He doesn’t invent a new covenant language. He fulfills the old one.

Suzerainty treaties assumed:
Loyalty
Exclusive allegiance
Submission to the greater king

Jesus refuses:
Political shortcuts
Coercive power
Empire without obedience

He won’t reach for an earthly throne.
He won’t grasp.
He won’t rebel.
That restraint?
That’s vassal faithfulness.

In today’s chapter:
Obedience earns blessing
Disobedience triggers curse

Jesus:
Lives perfect obedience
Deserves full blessing
Receives the curse anyway

Exile. Shame. Abandonment. Death outside the city. The faithful vassal takes the consequences of the unfaithful people. That’s not legal trickery.
That’s covenant love with skin on.

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole.”
Galatians 3:13

This means my relationship with God is not sustained by:
Perfect obedience
White-knuckled faithfulness
Fear of slipping into curse

It’s sustained by participation—showing up at the table, taking a seat, and choosing to stay.

It’s not about performance. I don’t earn blessing.
I inhabit it—because Jesus already stood where I couldn’t.
Obedience becomes response, not requirement.
Faithfulness becomes gratitude, not terror.
And Deuteronomy 28 stops sounding like a threat…

…and starts sounding like a story that finally found its hero.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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Just another wayfarer on life's journey, headed for Home. I'm carrying The Message, and I'm definitely waiting for Guffman.

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Just another wayfarer on life's journey, headed for Home. I'm carrying The Message, and I'm definitely waiting for Guffman.