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Chapter-a-Day

The Machinery of Heaven

March 4, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

That night the king could not sleep…
Esther 6:1a (NIV)

My entire life I have struggled with bouts of insomnia. I wake in the wee hours. My brain spins like a top. I can’t shut it off.

It is what it is.

One remedy I’ve discovered over the years is to lay on the couch and put something on the television that I really like, but I know won’t hold my attention. I learned this with Casablanca. It’s my all-time favorite movie, but I’ve watched it countless times. I know it by heart. My brain knows it so well that it sort of shuts down and I can fall back asleep. In recent years it’s been Ken Burns’ documentary The Civil War. Same concept. Something that stimulates my heart but, because of familiarity, not my brain.

As I begin writing today’s post it’s just before 4:00 a.m. I’ve been up since around 2:30. How ironic that when I decided to meditate on today’s chapter it begins with: “That night the king couldn’t sleep.”

God definitely has a sense of humor.

And, it just might be one of the most understated turning points in the entire Great Story.

For five chapters the story of Esther has been building.

A proud and impetuous emperor finds his entire empire threatened when his queen refuses to be summoned and placed on display.

A young Jewish girl taken against her will, groomed in a harem, chosen above all of the hundreds of other candidates to be named queen.

A rising star of the empire has a burr under his saddle because one man, Esther’s uncle, refuses to bow to him like a god. Instead of dealing with the man, he plots to kill the man’s entire race.

The entire story, and the history of an entire race hinges on one man’s bout with insomnia.

The king can’t sleep. There’s no television, so he chooses the next best thing. He has his servant read something boring. The chronicles of his own reign. Instead of putting him to sleep, the King’s brain latches on to something he’d overlooked.

The events of today’s chapter are so layered with meaning—so dripping with irony—that it’s hard to do them justice with a simple summary.

Hearing the chronicles read in his insomnia, the king realizes Mordecai saved his life in unearthing an assassination plot. He also realizes that nothing had been done to honor Mordecai for his service. This was not only an oversight, but in Persian culture it was a grave dishonor. The king is motivated to correct this by doubly honoring the man who saved his life.

Haman, who has just built the gallows to execute Mordecai, enters the king’s court to request permission to kill the very man the King wants to doubly honor.

Before he can do so, the King asks Haman to describe how he should honor a man in whom he delights. In his ego, Haman assumes it’s himself, so he goes over the top in offering his wish list.

The king agrees to the list, then unwittingly informs Haman that the honoree is his nemesis, Mordecai, the very man Haman wants to execute. Haman is tasked with the humiliation of overseeing the public honoring of his own enemy.

What makes Esther unique in Scripture is that God is never named. Yet His fingerprints are everywhere.

Consider the chain reaction in this chapter:

A king can’t sleep.
A random scroll is chosen.
A forgotten act is rediscovered.
The most prideful man in Persia walks into the room at the worst possible moment.
The enemy of Mordecai becomes the herald of his honor.

None of those events are miraculous, yet together they form a miracle.

Along this life journey I’ve experienced again and again that God’s providence hides inside ordinary moments. The turning points of my life rarely look like thunder from heaven. More often they look like:

a conversation
a delay
a memory resurfacing
a sleepless night

The machinery of heaven is astonishingly quiet.

And, so I finish up this post in the wee hours meditating on the fact that sometimes insomnia is just insomnia. But in at least one instance, insomnia was the hinge that changed the course of history.

Serving a God who is authoring the Great Story, and authoring my story within it, means that even the most ordinary of daily moments are contributing to a larger plot I will never fully know this side of eternity. My job is to traverse each day on this earthly journey loving God and loving every person, every fellow pilgrim I meet, to the best of my ability.

Esther reminds me that I can trust God’s providence with the rest of my story—even in the quiet moments when nothing seems to be happening.

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!

Chapter-a-Day

Shrewd

March 3, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/5qcGgGae6DDppOyFCzPZcS?si=lC4QotPKROGyg_TI751KzQ

Esther replied, “My petition and my request is this: If the king regards me with favor and if it pleases the king to grant my petition and fulfill my request, let the king and Haman come tomorrow to the banquet I will prepare for them. Then I will answer the king’s question.”
Esther 5:7-8 (NIV)

In The Godfather, Michael Corleone shares one of the secrets of his success with a compatriot. “My father always said, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

It wasn’t just a line. It’s a theme running through the entire trilogy of the classic trilogy. While the family celebrates, Vito eliminates rivals. Michael embraces betrayers at the table, only to deal with them when the moment is right. Baptisms and executions unfold in parallel.

One of the more fascinating, and challenging, of Jesus’ parables are those that honor shrewdness. The vineyard owner hires workers throughout the day and agrees to pay each the same amount of money. Those who worked ten hours agreed to the same wage as those who worked two. They are angry, but Jesus says that the vineyard owner was generous, and while Jesus doesn’t specifically say it, the owner was also shrewd. In another parable, a manager who has just been sacked goes to all the vendors who owe his boss money and settles their debts for a fraction of what’s owed. In the parable, the fired manager is complimented for being so shrewd.

These things came to mind this morning as I read today’s chapter. Esther is Queen. The villain Haman has set genocide into motion for all the Jews in the Persian Empire. Mordecai has implored Esther that God has put her on the throne “for such a time as this.” Now, she has to risk her life by going to the King without being summoned, and pray he shows her his favor.

Once again, the author of Esther’s story proves a master story-teller, for today’s chapter does not resolve a single thread of the story line. Instead it builds the tension and ratchets up the anticipation.

And Esther proves herself shrewd.

She goes to the king in full royal regalia.
The king likes bright, shiny, beautiful things, and she knows it.
She doesn’t barge into the throne room making accusations.
The king loves banquets, and being honored. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Rather than calling Haman out in a courtroom, let’s invite him to a feast.
Even with the king begging her to tell him what she wants to talk to him about, and seemingly disposed to do whatever she requests, she puts him off a second time and invites him and Haman to a second feast.
Esther understands the appetites of power — indulgence and intrigue — and she feeds both.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on the lessons Esther has for me with her shrewdness.

I rush into rooms swinging anger.
Esther enters wearing dignity.
I demand justice now.
Esther prepares a table.
I confront fast and furiously.
Esther lets pride expose itself.

Esther reminds me that when it comes to dealing with enemies and those who wish me ill will, I don’t need to force the outcome.

Faith is not frantic. It is patient courage.

Esther channels Paul’s advice to the believers in Rome (who were dealing with their own brand of enemies wanting them dead):

Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary:
“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

In addition, Esther wears her identity. She doesn’t enter the King’s presence as an orphan. She enters as queen.

As a child of God, I am a child of the King. I can approach the “throne of grace” with the matter of any enemy I may have. And I don’t approach God or the world in rags of insecurity.

The gallows may be rising in someone else’s backyard.
The banquet may still be unfinished.
But I am robed in calling.
And I trust the Author with the timing of the third act.

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

Chapter-a-Day

Choosing Real

March 2, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

When Esther’s eunuchs and female attendants came and told her about Mordecai, she was in great distress. She sent clothes for him to put on instead of his sackcloth, but he would not accept them.
Esther 4:4 (NIV)

One of the things that makes our little town of Pella, Iowa unique is the importance our community places on the heritage of our Dutch tradition. It’s not casual. It’s a commitment. So much so, in fact, that even businesses must agree to put a little traditional Dutch flair in the architecture of their storefronts. No exceptions. Here in Pella, even Walmart, McDonalds, and Starbucks have a “Dutch Front.”

There’s a spiritual parable in this reality that many in our community have talked about for years. Behind the “Dutch Front” a building is just a building, a business is a business, and there’s no real differentiation from any building or business in the next town over. In Pella, it just “looks” quaint and perfect from the outside.

I thought about this as I read today’s chapter. As Haman’s decree to annihilate and commit genocide against the Jews living in the Persian Empire is spread, Esther’s Uncle Mordecai goes into ritual mourning, putting on sackcloth and covering himself with ashes as he stands outside the King’s Gate. He can’t enter, however.

No one in mourning was allowed inside the palace.

Queen Esther’s people notice the change. There has obviously been regular messages sent back-and-forth between Esther and her Uncle, so as soon as they see him in “mourning” they mention it to the queen. She is distressed and sends for Mordecai and sends a change of clothes.

No one in mourning was allowed inside the palace.

Mordecai refuses and sends a message along with a copy of Haman’s genocidal decree to Esther through her assistant.

What struck me as I meditated on this in the quiet this morning is that the rule sounds ceremonial. But it’s deeply symbolic.

You cannot bring grief into the palace.

Power prefers denial.

The empire runs on appearances:

silk instead of sackcloth
banquets instead of mourning
decrees instead of tears

But reality waits outside the gate.

It always does.

Inside the palace, Esther is insulated. Protected. Sheltered from the smoke rising outside the gate. Her first instinct is telling. She sends Mordecai clothes.

“I want to see you, Uncle. But you have to look the part. No sadness. No ashes. Come inside and pretend with the rest of us that everything is lovely.”

Esther tries to restore dignity instead of confronting danger.

Comfort before truth.

Appearance before reality.

It’s a profoundly human reflex. We want problems to be smaller than they are. We want ashes replaced with garments. We want the crisis to be cosmetic.

We want to maintain the illusion that life is always quaint and perfect behind the Dutch Front others see from the street.

Mordecai refuses.

Some truths cannot be dressed up.

And that’s a life lesson Esther is about to learn.

Life is messy. Life is hard. And sooner or later, I will face a moment when pretending is no longer an option. I might try to hide it. I might dress myself up in bright clothes and force a fake smile on my face, but it won’t change the circumstances.

One of the lessons I’ve have learned along this life journey is that it’s best to choose to get real about what’s real.

That is the terror of this chapter. Not that Esther might die, but that she might refuse. Because Mordecai says the quiet part out loud: Deliverance will come... but you and your father’s house will perish.

God’s purposes do not depend on my cooperation.

My participation in them does.

And here is where today’s chapter gets real. I observe that we all to some degree like life with some version of a Dutch Front. I want safety and certainty. I want easy. I want happy. I want everything to be alright at all times. And even when that’s not true, I want everyone around me to perceive that I have it all together. Everything is beautiful behind Tom’s Pinterest-worthy, Instagram curated, Facebook projected life.

Esther finds out that life sometimes give us the opposite.

She and her people have received a death sentence. She is between a rock and a hard place. She can do something about it, but that requires getting real, breaking protocol, and risking everything.

No guarantee of success
No promise of survival
No assurance of favor.

Only this: You are here. This is your moment.

And faith answers with the most dangerous words a human being can say: “If I perish, I perish.“

That is the line where spectators become participants.

The line where belief becomes action.

The line where providence finds a human partner.

Today’s chapter is where Esther stops being the girl the story happened to…

…and becomes the woman the story moves through.

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

Chapter-a-Day

Bowing

February 27, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/41y8PulcrXFaE04rtOOZ4H?si=LucaET0nRouqE9YMPLMsoA

All the royal officials at the king’s gate knelt down and paid honor to Haman, for the king had commanded this concerning him. But Mordecai would not kneel down or pay him honor.
Esther 3:2 (NIV)

It’s hard to believe that in April I’ll mark twenty years of chapter-a-day blogging. Two decades of mornings like this — coffee cooling, Scripture open, asking what the Great Story is doing in my small one. Along the way, some lessons have etched themselves in my mind and soul. One of those things is the repeated refrain “everything is connected.”

With today’s chapter, the story of Esther takes a dark turn. Vashti made her exit. Esther made her entrance. Now, it’s time for the villain of the story to take the stage. His name is Haman the Agagite. He is a rising star in the Xerxes administration. He climbs the imperial ladder and finds himself in the position of Xerxes right-hand man. He’s the second most powerful man of the world’s largest empire. With the position comes wealth, status, and the ability to sway the emperor.

When Haman and his entourage enter and leave the palace each day, the people in the streets were told to bow to Haman. History is filled with examples of what tyrants, monarchs, and dictators can easily make the masses do without question. Haman the Agagite is no different than men who came before him, and many men who would come after him. He commuted to work, and an empire bent at the waist as he passed.

One man refused.

Mordecai.

For days, Mordecai stands while everyone bows. No protest. No screaming about injustice. No raised placards. Just quiet refusal. Bowing is never just political. It is always, at some level, spiritual.

Tyrants, monarchs, and dictators don’t react well to those who refuse to bow. Haman is no different. Dishonored, angry, and enraged by Mordy’s daily refusal to bow, Haman institutes an internal investigation to discover the identity of his ego’s nemesis. That’s when he discovers that Mordecai is a Jew.

Stop right there.

I mentioned in yesterday’s post/podcast that a theme of Esther are things that are hidden. With the revelation of Mordecai’s nationality, there is a hidden plot twist lost to most readers.

When introduced in the story, we learn that Uncle Mordy was a descendant of Kish of the Hebrew tribe of Benjamin.

Reach back into the Great Story hundreds of years and there was another son of Kish of the tribe of Benjamin named Saul. He was the first king of Israel. One of the climactic moments of Saul’s tragic reign happens in 1 Samuel 15. He is fighting against Agag, king of the Amalekites. His instructions were to destroy Agag’s army completely. Saul failed to do so.

Fast forward hundreds of years in the empire of Persia.

Mordecai — descendant of Kish, from the same line as Saul — meets Haman, descendant of Agag.

Saul’s disobedience left a thread unfinished — and history has a way of tugging loose threads.

What goes around, comes around.

In the Great Story, everything is connected.

Mordecai is also not alone in his refusal to bow. He has other compatriots in the same exile who endured another tyrants demand to bow. Their names were Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. In fact, they served the previous empire under Nebuchadnezzar with their friend Daniel. Daniel survived to serve the Persian emperor, as well. Mordecai may have even crossed paths with him as an administrator in employ of the same empire. There is a precedent for Mordecai’s quiet courage.

In the Great Story, everything is connected.

Ancient hatreds are rekindled. One man refuses to bow and sparks Haman’s prejudices against an entire people. The second most powerful man in the world’s largest empire decides to kill all the Jews in the Empire. He plots a genocide. Long before there was Hitler and Himmler there was a man named Haman.

The Great Story and our history are also connected. As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, the story God is authoring in me is part of the Great Story He is authoring between Genesis and Revelation.

In the quiet this morning, this leaves me to asking myself an important rhetorical question.

Where do I bow?

The masses in Susa simply bowed. It was practical, safe, and expected.

Only Uncle Mordy stood.

Faith often begins there, not with heroics — just a quiet spine.

One man standing exposes evil, provokes hatred, and begins deliverance. God often writes history through the smallest acts of loyalty. Mordecai’s refusal looks insignificant. But heaven notices loyalty that makes empires rage. And sometimes the whole story turns on one person who stays standing when everyone else kneels.

What would it take to make me bow?

That’s where today’s chapter ends, and where my story connects and continues.

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

Uncategorized

Taken

February 26, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/4UReQsl4uEkqAWaPbPSwSS?si=ySoE6ho7RgWDkxLtrpdfnw

When the king’s order and edict had been proclaimed, many young women were brought to the citadel of Susa and put under the care of Hegai. Esther also was taken to the king’s palace and entrusted to Hegai, who had charge of the harem.
Esther 2:8 (NIV)

I am a certified “Girl Dad.” No sons, two daughters. I played dress up. I had make-up applied and my hair done. One of the greatest compliments of my entire life was when my young daughter told their mother they wanted daddy to do their hair before school.

Badge of honor.

And, of course, there were story times and Disney Princesses. The girls grew up during the era when Disney released classics like The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin for the very first time. I’m pretty sure I had the entire script and all the lyrics of both Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin completely memorized at one point because I heard them so many times.

As a Girl Dad I used my authority to ensure Taylor and Madison were exposed to Tolkien and Lewis at bedtime. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that a little girl’s heart is enamored with beautiful, common women who become a princess.

The story of Esther is commonly referenced as a Disneyesque princess story. The bones are all there. A young foreign girl. She’s beautiful. Of all the beautiful girls in the empire she finds the King’s favor. In Sunday School classes and children’s bedtime Bible stories, it reads this way.

But, the real story is not that.

One of the themes of Esther is that of things being hidden. So far in the first two chapters we find Uncle Mordy instructing Esther to hide her true nationality. There is a hidden plot to kill the King. We’re going to find a lot of things hidden in the story. This is ironic, because also what is hidden is just how brutal the real story is.

Esther is a Jew living in exile in a foreign land.
Mordecai tells her to hide her nationality because if it was revealed it would likely mean banishment at best, at worst execution.
Esther was taken. The verb is used twice. No choice. Not chosen. Taken.

This is not a beauty pageant. It’s a brutal imperial machine designed and built to provide the King with a different top-shelf, flesh-and-blood toy for his every sexual whim every.single.night.

It’s ancient, legalized sex-traffic.

Esther had no choices. She was forced into her circumstances.
Forced from her home into the servitude of an imperial harem.
Forced to live among hundreds of women. Every one of them a rival.
Forced into regimented treatments to turn her into an object.
Forced to learn how to sexually please the king, whatever he wanted.
Forced to be a royal whore for one night which doubled as an audition.

It doesn’t take a Girl Dad to tell you, that’s sick.

This isn’t a fairy-tale.
Esther isn’t Jasmine on a magic carpet singing A Whole New World.
Esther is more Destiny’s Child roaring out a gritty I’m a Survivor.

And here’s the truth that’s uncomfortable for any who want the Christian life to be it’s own form of fairy-tale: God’s providence does not sanitize the system before He begins working within it.

Life is messy. Life is hard. Ordinary human beings find themselves in horrific and tragic circumstances every day, all over the world.

God is not absent.

He is moving silently through an uncle’s devotion, a whispered plot, the granting of a young girl enough wisdom to know she should heed the advice of an advisor who knows things others don’t.

Amidst horrific and tragic circumstances, God is crafting a Story that the characters will not realize until several more chapters are written.

God’s hand in the plot is often hidden until later chapters of life reveal it.

I know that I always want Chapter 4 clarity while I am living in Chapter 2 confusion. I want purpose explained before obedience is required. I want the rescue before the risk.

But today’s chapter suggests something quieter and deeper:

I don’t need to know the reason to trust the Story in the moment.

Faith often means accepting the oil and perfume seasons — the long preparations, the uncomfortable lessons no one wants to talk about. The agonizing realities that seem pointless — trusting that God is doing invisible work.

Somewhere right now there is a door I walked through that felt ordinary.

Somewhere there is a conversation I thought was small.

Somewhere there is a record being written I have already forgotten.

And years from now I may discover:

That was the hinge.

That was the turning point.

That was the moment God quietly positioned me — for something still waiting to be revealed.

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

Book Summary List

Esther (Feb-Mar 2026)

February 26, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

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

Chapter-a-Day

Divine Bulletin Boards

February 25, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/2G4zLjkoYA9bJqiCCTJ61N?si=YfAXtEQLT3OpDyOIxxGtqg

But when the attendants delivered the king’s command, Queen Vashti refused to come. Then the king became furious and burned with anger.
Esther 1:12 (NIV)

It was the first day of my sophomore year of high school. I walked into the drama room for my Acting II class. A poster on the bulletin board caught my eye. It was an audition notice for a movie being filmed locally. The production company was just a mile from the school.

How cool was that?

I decided to audition. I got a starring role.

It changed my life.

The production company was run by a former Hollywood filmmaker who had become a follower of Jesus. He moved to Iowa and began making faith-centered films. While on set I met a man who would spend two years discipling me. Ten years later the same man would hire me to work for the company that he and his wife founded. That job became my career. Thirty years later I own the business.

A poster in the Drama Room caught my eye.

Drama is an apt segue. Today, our chapter-a-day trek begins the journey through the book of Esther which is one of the most dramatic stories in the entire Great Story. In fact, every year – all over the world – Jews gather to read the story aloud and dramatize as massive audience participation production.

The most astonishing thing about the story of Esther is that God is never mentioned…at all. Not once.

But God’s hands are present and evident through the entire story, providentially guiding the events.

Just like He does in mine.

Whoever authored Esther was as masterful a storyteller as Shakespeare. Today’s chapter is the opening act. It is the set-up that sets the story into motion. Persian emperor Xerxes enters, and what an entrance it is.

An empire from India to Ethiopia (half the known world)
A 180-day festival to show off his vast wealth and splendor.
Bright gold
Luscious silk
Glittering jewels
Opulent palaces
Verdant gardens
A seven-day feast in which wine flows ceaselessly into cups of gold for every guest.

At the end of the feast, Xerxes calls for his queen, Vashti, to come out from her private ladies feast. He doesn’t call her for her companionship. He isn’t interested in sharing the moment with her.

He wants to put her beauty on display like all his other treasure — just one more possession.

Vashti says, “No.”

The king’s desire for Vashti is not romantic — it is possessive.

He wants beauty displayed.

Admired.

Owned.

Her refusal is electric precisely because it breaks the spell of indulgence.

The party stops.

The music falters.

The room goes cold.

One woman saying no exposes the emptiness beneath all that glitter.

It is one of Scripture’s quietest — and most powerful — acts of dignity.

The ripple effect sends a threatening shockwave through the greatest empire on the face of the earth.

The King who commands armies can’t command respect.

Vashti is swiftly stripped of her title and she is escorted to the exit stage left. With Vashti’s exit, the stage is cleared for a young woman named Esther to make her entrance.

One act of self-respect threatens an empire built on display and domination. It is life-changing for Vashti. It is also life-changing for Esther.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

In the quiet this morning, my mind wanders back to a poster that caught my eye as a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore. A poster that would alter the course of my entire life.

God is the author of life. He gave us a Great Story from Genesis to Revelation. That Story isn’t yet complete. We’re still living in it. The author is still at work. I am part of the same Story. My life is woven into its tapestry.

Jesus told His followers to never stop asking, seeking, and knocking.

Along my life journey, I’ve come to believe that a part of what Jesus meant was for me to live each day with my eyes, my heart, and my life open. Open to God’s providential hand as He authors the story.

An unexpected introduction.
A sudden turn in the road.
A phone call out of the blue.
An opportunity I never saw coming.
A poster that catches my eye.

God is authoring the Great Story. He’s also authoring my story if, in my free will, I choose make room and live expectantly.

Ask.
Seek.
Knock.

“For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”

And so I enter another day of the journey, eyes peeled, listening for the Author’s next cue.

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

Chapter-a-Day

Two-Sides of Heresy

February 23, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.
Jude 1:20-21 (NIV)

I spent a short period of time at a fundamentalist school. It was one of the strangest, yet most profitable, experiences of my life. The school was rabid about doctrinal purity—so rabid that purity itself became an idol.

Doctrinal purity, the schools doctrine, was of utmost importance.
Honest inquiries were squelched and treated as suspicious behavior.
Professors were questioned at the risk of being labeled a troublemaker.
Professors graded papers like it was a witch-hunt for heresy.

Behavioral control became the fruit, rooted in thought control.

Today’s brief trek through the letter of Jude is an apt follow-up to our trek through Peter’s letters. They all address a growing problem within the exploding Jesus Movement of the first century. There was no New Testament yet—it was still being written. There were no formal institutions of Christian education, people were learning from listening to eye-witnesses of Jesus and reading their letters. It was organic and fluid, and that made it susceptible to individuals who leveraged the moment for their own personal gain.

The early Jesus movement was all about selflessness and generosity. They took care of the physical needs of others. And, whenever you start giving stuff away for free, you’ll attract those who see an opportunity to get something for nothing.

Even Jesus saw that the crowds weren’t following Him for spiritual food—but for free filet-o-fish sandwiches. He called them out for their skewed motivations. Then He told them the next course would be His flesh to eat and His blood to drink. The crowds walked away. Even Jesus’ inner circle of followers began to question.

Now, it’s the followers of Jesus handing out the fish sandwiches, but the result is the same.

Human nature doesn’t change.

Once more attracting a crowd that includes individuals with selfish motives. Paul dealt with it. Peter dealt with it. Jude is dealing with it.

Some of these con-men were in it for the money. They pretended to be preachers and apostles so that the local gathering of Jesus’ followers would invite them in, give them shelter, feed them, and even pay them.

Others were taking the teaching of Jesus to justify other appetites.

They distort grace into license.

Grace becomes permission.
Mercy becomes indulgence.
Freedom becomes appetite.

The sensual temptation is subtle:
“God forgives. So indulge.”
“God understands. So indulge.”
“God is love. So indulge.”

Jude calls this out. Then he taps zakhor memory and provides a historical list of examples. Israel in the wilderness, rebellious angels, and Sodom and Gomorrah.

Jude reminds his readers, reminds me, that Jesus calls us to a radical grace and a radical holiness that hold a tension for disciples of Jesus. When either is severed from the other, disaster follows.

Grace without holiness becomes indulgence.
Holiness without grace becomes cruelty.

Jude fights to keep them married. And, that is the heart of Jude’s letter as he contends against the self-justified indulgence of greed and sensual appetites that are rampant among the early Jesus Movement.

But, here is where I find our enemy gets even more cunning in the chess match with those who would follow the Truth. For intellectual pride and control of others is as destructive an appetite as pleasures of the flesh. Even well-intentioned believers can indulge those subtler appetites.

The heresies Jude writes about become a license for thought control and theological witch hunts.

Purity of thought gets layered like frosting over purity of behavior.

Freedom in Christ becomes shackled in the prison of fundamentalist rule-keeping and thought policing.

One type of heresy gives birth to another on the opposite side of the spectrum. I have flirted with both extremes at different points along my journey.

Human nature doesn’t change.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself back at the point of tension between these two heretical extremes. That’s where I find Jude landing as he finishes his letter to all who would sincerely follow Jesus as disciples.

Build yourselves up in your most holy faith.
Pray in the Holy Spirit.
Keep yourselves in God’s love.
Wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Notice the verbs.

Build.
Pray.
Keep.
Wait.

Active. Relational. Expectant.

This isn’t passive drift. It’s muscular devotion.

Not everyone wandering is a wolf.
Some are just confused.
Some are seduced.
Some are singed but salvageable.

Discernment without mercy is brutality.
Mercy without discernment is naïveté.

Jude calls me to both as I walk among those across both sides of the spectrum. And, having walked this spiritual journey for over 40 years, I can tell you that those on both sides of the heretical spectrum are always around.

Human nature doesn’t change.

I found, however, that there is redemption of that human nature available to me by grace through faith in Jesus, who then calls me to:

Radical grace and radical holiness.
One more day on the journey, I choose to hold the tension.

Taking tomorrow off. Our chapter-a-day journey continues to Esther on Wednesday!

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

Chapter-a-Day

Perhaps Today…Likely Not

February 19, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/4r3105rfBwwme5Q9qj9Arz?si=2LTRTdYoQW-FL9RyIgeObg

Therefore, dear friends, since you have been forewarned, be on your guard so that you may not be carried away by the error of the lawless and fall from your secure position. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.To him be glory both now and forever! Amen.
2 Peter 3:17-18 (NIV)

Along the journey I continually find spiritual truth hiding in plain sight in the most unexpected of places.

The subject of AI is everywhere right now. Yesterday morning in our daily perusal of the news, Wendy and I read an article in the Free Press in which various thinkers gave their personal takes on AI. Wendy and I were both struck by these words from Eric Markowitz:

Over the last few hundred years, we began to see ourselves as separate from the natural world—masters of it, rather than participants in it. We built systems that prize speed above all else, and in doing so we lost the most fundamental lesson that nature teaches: Speed of growth makes you fragile. The tree that shoots up fastest is the first to fall in a storm. The ecosystems that endure—the ones that survive fire and drought and ice—are the ones that grew slowly, developed deep root systems, and built interdependence with the living things around them.

In today’s chapter, Peter confronts a burning issue of his day, and one that remains. Jesus promised His return. He promised a Day of Judgement. Even though He told His followers that “no one knows the day or hour” — that even He didn’t know when it would be, they were convinced that it was imminent. They expected it to be quick — in their lifetime.

The result was scoffers, doubters, and mockers.

“He’s obviously not coming. The whole things a sham. I may as well live however I want.”

What a very modern sentiment.

That’s the anthem of materialism. The creed of consumer culture. If there’s no reckoning, then indulge. If there’s no ending, then accumulate.

Peter whispers back: You mistake patience for absence.

Peter approaches this attitude head-on as he wraps up his second letter. He responds with three sweeping movements:

God has acted before.
The world was formed by God’s word. The flood came by that same word. History is not random. It bends to a Voice.
God’s delay is not forgetfulness.
“With the Lord a day is like a thousand years.” The delay is mercy. God is patient, not wanting anyone to perish.
The Day of the Lord will come.
Like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar. Elements will be laid bare. A new heaven and a new earth will emerge — “the home of righteousness.”

And then the piercing question:

Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of person ought I be?

He ends with the same admonition as Mr. Markowitz in response to the current doomsday predictions of AI destroying our world.

Grow.

Take a deep breath. Cultivate a life rooted in Word and Spirit. Sink deep where Living Water nourishes unseen. Reach wide into the Light. Grow slow enough to withstand the storm, and to bear fruit in increasing measure.

Jesus is coming.
AI might destroy the world — if you read the headlines.

I find it fascinating how humanity gets enamored with doomsday scenarios. Fear motivates. Media knows it creates clicks and views — it sells books.

As a disciple of Jesus I believe Jesus is coming.

Perhaps today.

Likely not.

As a human I know that I will die one day.

Perhaps today.

Likely not.

What I do know is that the sun is rising on this, another day of my earthly journey. I get to choose how I will live, think, speak, act, and relate to others.

No matter how far I get in the journey, it’s always a good day to grow. Growth is not passive. Roots deepen because they push through resistance.

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

Chapter-a-Day

The Question Beneath the Ash

February 18, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

But there were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you.
2 Peter 2:1 (NIV)

Most people know that Vincent Van Gogh had his own share of mental struggles. What many don’t know is that Van Gogh began as a preacher. Convinced that he was to spend his life in vocational ministry, the young dutchman spent time serving among a desperately poor population of miners as a missionary evangelist.

Van Gogh took Jesus’ teaching seriously.

Jesus told the rich, young ruler, “Sell everything you have and give it to the poor.”

Vincent took Jesus’ words at face value.

He gave away his clothes.
He slept on straw.
He lived in the same conditions as the miners.
He gave his food and income to those poorer than himself.

He didn’t just “minister to” the poor.
He became one of them.

Van Gogh embraced the kind of radical, living incarnation of God’s Message that history records in the lives of the ancient prophets, the desert fathers, and saints like Francis of Assisi.

Van Gogh’s superiors were embarrassed. They didn’t want a modern day prophet who gave away his shoes to the poor and walked barefoot (like Isaiah). As good Dutch Reformers, they valued dignity and respectability. Van Gogh chose identity with those to whom he ministered. In Vincent’s mind, he was walking in Jesus’ footsteps, who left the comforts of heaven to become poor and live among us.

So the church leaders rejected Vincent as unfit for ministry.

God had other plans for Vincent. He would preach with a paintbrush.

Peter would have recognized the tension immediately.

In today’s chapter, he does not mince words as he addresses the problem of false teachers. He is not subtle. He points out that false teachers have always been present throughout history and the Great Story. He points out the consistent thread of their heresy:

Moral compromise
Institutional greed
Cultural accommodation

They deny the Master, exploit others, and are driven by their personal indulgences of appetite. A veneer of godliness cloaks their greed. They observe the sacraments even as they feast on sensuality. They don’t worry about truth, preferring to embrace beliefs that justifies their self-centered desires, even if they have to make a few things up along the way. They appear to embrace God, but they are simply leveraging religion to feed personal extravagance and fleshly pursuits.

Peter quotes an ancient proverb about washing a pig only to watch it return to wallowing in the mud.

God’s word has not penetrated. Jesus’ teaching has not transformed. The fruit of God’s Spirit is not increasing in “greater measure” which Peter described as evidence of “participating in the divine nature” in yesterday’s chapter.

Jesus came to teach a righteousness that comes from simplicity, surrendering, and sacrificial love.

False teachers use religion to self-righteously feed the appetites of self at the expense of others.

In the quiet this morning, my mind wanders back to poor Vincent rattling the sensibilities of his institutional religious superiors. They didn’t know what to do with one who embraced simplicity, surrender, and sacrificial love to excess, and found divine beauty in earthly poverty.

False teachers exploit the poor.
Van Gogh emptied himself among them.

False leaders use position to elevate themselves.
Vincent stripped himself of position.

I think Peter would have preferred Vincent to those who use religion to line their pockets, who wash their guilt in the baptismal fountain only to return to wallowing in the mud, and who partake of the Communion cup even as they intoxicate themselves on self-indulgence.

The question for me in the quiet this morning — is this:

Am I using faith to climb?
Or am I letting it keep me on my knees?

Along my spiritual journey, Jesus has continuously asked me to set fire to my personal ladders.

Thus, I find that question an apt one to ponder on this Ash Wednesday as I begin my annual 40-day pilgrimage to the Cross.

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

Wayfarer

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The Machinery of Heaven

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Perhaps Today…Likely Not

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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.