Set the Sail – Faith Rests Upon God’s Character

The destiny of one’s recovery is shaped by the idea of God a person carries. Traditional recovery thought teaches that newcomers enter a spiritual program where they are free to identify God “as they understand Him.” For some, this means the fellowship itself becomes a Higher Power; for others, it means any concept of a power greater than themselves.

Over time, a peculiar phrase emerged in recovery culture: “Your Higher Power can be anything — even a doorknob.” It is repeated so often that many assume it comes from the Big Book or the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions.

It does not.

Neither text suggests that an inanimate object can restore sanity, guide moral change, or receive a surrendered will. The “doorknob god” appears nowhere in AA’s foundational literature.

Anchor verse – Psalm 9:10: “Those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you.

The idea actually surfaced in the treatment centers of the 1970s and 1980s. As addiction treatment became professionalized — especially in secular or state‑funded programs — counselors avoided religious language to prevent the appearance of imposing faith on clients. To lower resistance, some staff used exaggerated examples: “Even a doorknob can be your Higher Power if it helps you get started.”

It was never meant to be literal. It was a strategy to reduce defensiveness.

But like many exaggerated teaching tools, it escaped its context. It became folklore. It became satire. Critics of 12‑step spirituality used it to mock the idea of a non‑religious Higher Power. Newcomers repeated it without understanding its origin. And eventually, it became a kind of shorthand for the early, clumsy attempts to describe surrender without demanding theology.

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When Confession Breaks the Illusion: Walking in the Light of Real Recovery

William James once wrote: “For him who confesses, shams are over and realities have begun; he has exteriorized his rottenness.”

Confession ends the exhausting work of pretending. It pulls what is hidden into the light—not to shame us, but to free us. In recovery, confession is not a one‑time event; it is a rhythm, a posture, a way of walking honestly before God and others. It invites us to step into authenticity, shedding the masks we often wear and revealing the true selves beneath.

When we consider the act of confession, it is crucial to understand that it goes far beyond simply admitting wrongdoings. It encompasses acknowledging our vulnerabilities, our fears, and our shortcomings. It is about facing the parts of ourselves that we might prefer to keep hidden or buried deep within. Confession invites us into a space of liberation, where we can experience the healing power of honesty, not just with ourselves, but with those around us.

Anchor verse – 1 John 1:9 – “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

This divine reassurance underscores the importance of confession in our lives. This is never a one-and-done moment. Confessing our sins is an active part of our path and spiritual growth. There is a continuous invitation to engage in this practice, to reflect regularly on our actions and attitudes, and to communicate them with sincerity. The act of confession can take various forms: it might be through prayer, journaling, or discussions with trusted friends and mentors.

There is also a communal aspect to confession; it’s about allowing others to bear witness to our journey of growth. This sharing fosters deeper connections, trust, and support within our communities. Confession can also serve as a catalyst for accountability, encouraging us to maintain our commitments to growth and change.

And there is more to confessing than we may fully understand. What are some of the ways we may confess? And what does it refer to when it says to confess our sins? What exactly are we confessing? Most of us may answer that we are to confess any wrongdoing on our part. And that is definitely an aspect of confessing.

But it may also refer to confessing our failures, our doubts, and our feelings of inadequacy. It may involve voicing the pain we carry and the burdens we bear, creating an opportunity for healing. Confession is a profound act of vulnerability that invites grace and understanding into our lives, not only from God but also from those around us who may offer support and encouragement. Through confession, we can truly experience the freedom that comes with honesty, forgiveness, and a renewed sense of purpose on our spiritual journey.

Today – we are going to take a look at how confession is the very courage to stop pretending. To step out of the idea that we need to fake it till we make it. And to see how this all ties into a twelve-step recovery program for Christians walking a path of recovery, desiring to thrive in their sobriety.

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WEEKLY RECAP: WALKING IN TRUTH — A Sacred Sobriety Reflection

Our daily walk in recovery and thriving in sobriety provides a story. I love what the apostle Paul writes, “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by all, and you show that you are a letter of Christ, prepared by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets that are human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:2-3, NRSVUE). Our testimonies are living epistles. This is the reason I love what is said in the Celebrate Recovery rooms, ‘He took my mess and turned it into a message and took my test and turned it into a testimony.”

These stories are of struggle, of quiet faithfulness – and yet always a story of God’s sovereign and divine grace in our moments of weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). This past week, the devotional messages formed a single thread woven through four powerful themes.

  • Spiritual Discernment
  • Spiritual Direction
  • Mindful Prayer
  • Distinctiveness of a life transformed by Christ

Each one of these messages point us back to one central truth: Thriving in recovery and sobriety requires spiritual clarity, honest self-examination, and a heart anchored in Christ. And through the acrostics – we explored:

  • T.R.U.T.H
  • D.I.R.E.C.T.I.O.N
  • P.R.A.Y.E.R
  • H.O.L.Y

Hopefully you discovered a pathway that strengthens your heart, mind, and spirit; steadies the steps of anyone seeking lasting freedom.

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Apostasy to Restoration: Lesson 7: Religion in the Roman Empire

When T. Edgar Lyon first penned Lesson 7 of Apostasy to Restoration in 1960, he invited Latter-day Saints to step into a world where religion was not just a private conviction but a fundamental component of the machinery of empire. This bold assertion set the stage for a deeper exploration of the intricate interplay between faith, culture, and politics. Sixty years later, the landscape of scholarship has transformed dramatically, yet Lyon’s central insight remains strikingly relevant: to truly understand the need for a Restoration, we must first immerse ourselves in the complex milieu that shaped the early Christian Church.

This updated lesson builds upon Lyon’s foundational work, integrating modern archaeological discoveries, peer-reviewed historical research, and contemporary Latter-day Saint scholarship to form a more nuanced understanding of the context in which early Christianity emerged. What emerges from this scholarly synthesis is a clearer, richer, and more compelling picture of the Roman religious world—a world that was teeming with a pantheon of gods, replete with elaborate rituals, and governed by a political theology that made the act of Christian discipleship both radical and perilous.

In a society where loyalty to the state was intricately tied to acts of sacrifice and devotion, where citizens adeptly navigated multiple cults without a hint of contradiction, and where the pursuit of salvation was often sought through clandestine mystery rites and the favor of emperors, the Christian proclamation of “one Lord, one faith, one baptism” represented a profound challenge to the status quo—it was nothing less than a revolutionary stance. This declaration was, in essence, a radical reformation of the religious landscape, directly opposing the established norms that dictated the relationship between the individual, the divine, and the state.

Understanding that world is essential for grasping why the early Church fractured amidst various pressures and why a Restoration was not merely desirable but indeed inevitable. The tensions between emerging Christian beliefs and the entrenched systems of power were not just obstacles to be overcome; they underscored the urgent need for a return to core principles that could unify and reinvigorate the faith community. Lyon’s insights encourage us to reflect on our own circumstances in today’s religious environment, prompting critical questions about the nature of faith, the role of community, and the ongoing quest for spiritual authenticity in an increasingly complex world. As we navigate the remnants of an ancient tapestry interwoven with faith and politics, we find ourselves inspired to reconsider the implications of our shared history and the enduring quest for a true Restoration.

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Committed to the Whole Message of Recovery and Sobriety

I want to take this moment and ask you a personal question. Are you a Christian walking the path of recovery – sober, yet still battling fear, doubt, maybe a lingering faith crisis, or feeling stuck where you are not truly thriving? How many of us have tasted the sweet relief of initial forgiveness through God’s sovereign grace and tender mercies? Only to watch it fade and leave us unsatisfied. Finding ourselves cycling back to old patterns, people, and even those places we were to come away from?

A. W. Tozer’s words are quite bold for us today. These words come from The Set of the Sail, and they cut through the noise. And that noise is this idea that conversion does not often work for people as much as it may have once did. Maybe it is because modern culture and society have settled for a watered-down version of the Gospel. And maybe, many have settled for a watered-down version of a message for recovery and sobriety.

Today’s devotional will hopefully anchor you in the full message of Christ – pardoned and transformed in a newness of life. A life that not only equips you to navigate real recovery, real sobriety, and genuine spiritual revival but also fills your heart with the joy of living in the abundance of His grace. This is a life that recognizes the deep-rooted struggles of fear and doubt yet chooses to stand firm in faith, believing in the promises of God that assure us we are never alone in our journey.

As you read through this, I pray you will find direction, courage, and hope grounded in God’s unchanging truth. The truth that He is with you every step of the way, offering strength when you feel weak and guidance when the path seems unclear.

Anchor verse for Today: “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all, training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, while we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our Great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. He it is who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds.” (Titus 2:11-14, NRSVUE).

It is time we face reality, folks: we are in a society and culture fixated on quick spiritual fixes and partial truths. A. W. Tozer delivers quite the wake-up call for all Christians, and specifically for many of us on a path of recovery and sobriety. In his work The Set of the Sail, he warns that many conversions leave people unchanged because the gospel has been reduced to the “good news” of pardon alone. A gospel that is peddled as, per Dietrich Bonhoeffer, cheap grace. However, the New Testament calls each of us to repentance, temperance, righteousness, godliness, and the amendment of one’s life, separation from the world and culture, in order to be cross-bearing disciples of Christ – living a mindful crucified life through Him (Galatians 2:20).

This devotional will integrate Tozer’s wisdom with strong scriptures in order to help you move beyond spiritual and recovery survivalism to thriving, abundant living in sobriety and faith. Overcoming fear, doubt, and feeling stuck once and for all requires not just a moment of spiritual awakening but a commitment to a lifelong journey of transformation. This process involves persistent prayer, engaging with Scripture, and surrounding yourself with a community of believers who understand the struggles and victories of the recovery path.

By leaning into God’s Word, inviting the Holy Spirit’s guidance, and holding each other accountable, we can cultivate an environment where growth is not only possible but expected. Embrace the fullness of His grace and allow it to empower you to break free from the chains of the past, emerging into a life characterized by hope, purpose, and unshakeable joy. May this devotional be a beacon that guides you into deeper waters of faith and recovery, encouraging you to experience the richness of life that God intends for you.

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The Truth’s Most Powerful Ally: A Life That Speaks Louder Than Words

We live in a world overflowing with opinions, arguments, podcasts, and social media posts—yet we often find ourselves starving for authenticity. People tend to trust what they see far more than what they hear. You can win an argument but still lose a connection. You can defend the truth yet fail to embody it. Amid this tension, many of us who are in recovery, healing, or rebuilding our lives ask ourselves a deeper question: Does my life truly reflect the truth I claim to believe?

A.W. Tozer cuts through the noise with such piercing clarity when he says, “The most effective argument for Christianity is still the good lives of those who profess it.” It’s not about eloquence or theology or debate. It’s about a life transformed by Christ.

Scripture backs this up with sobering clarity: James 2:17 (NRSVUE) reminds us that “So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.”

For those navigating recovery, untangling from toxic relationships, or breaking free from codependency, this truth hits home. Transformation isn’t some abstract idea—it’s something you can see. It shows in the way you set boundaries, the way you walk away from chaos, and the way you choose peace over control. These decisions become living sermons that nobody can overlook.

A transformed life isn’t just an addition to your faith; it’s tangible evidence of it. In recovery, this looks like opting for boundaries instead of people-pleasing, choosing truth over denial, and embracing surrender over control.

1 Peter 2:12 (NRSVUE) takes this even further: “Conduct yourselves honorably among the gentiles, so that… they may see your honorable deeds and glorify God…”

People might never pick up a Bible, but they will read your life. They draw conclusions about God based on what they observe in you.

Every small act of kindness, every moment of self-discipline, and every decision based in love turns into a testimony. It’s in these everyday choices that the authenticity of your faith shines the brightest. When someone sees genuine transformation, it offers hope that real change is indeed possible. They’re not just hearing the Gospel; they’re witnessing it in action through your life.

Anchor verse – Matthew 5:16: “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (NRSVUE)

So if you’ve battled with guilt, shame, or a crisis of faith, hear this loud and clear: God isn’t asking you to be perfect. He’s inviting you into a real transformation.

2 Corinthians 3:18 (NRSVUE) tells us: “And all of us… seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another…”

This is a process—a journey of becoming. It’s a gradual reshaping of your life that others can’t help but notice.

And even on days when your voice feels quiet, your life—anchored in Christ—becomes a testimony that resonates with undeniable clarity.

Engaging with others in their struggles, rather than offering empty platitudes, creates deep connections. The beautiful truth is that God doesn’t call you to perform truth; He calls you to be transformed by it. This transformation, evident in your actions and choices, becomes a beacon of hope to those around you who are seeking meaning and reassurance.

By choosing to embody love, grace, and perseverance—qualities that Christ offers—you not only nurture your own growth but also inspire others to embark on their own journeys toward healing and authenticity. Your life can stand as a powerful testament, gently guiding others out of darkness into a place where they can truly see and experience real change for themselves.

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Powerless Over the Storm — Not Powerless Over the Sail

Ever have one of those moments where clarity doesn’t arrive with fireworks, but with a quiet, unmistakable shift inside your chest—a soft Aha, a gentle epiphany that feels less like a thought and more like a whisper settling into your spirit? That happened to me as I was preparing for today’s devotional message. I was sitting with A. W. Tozer’s The Set of the Sail, revisiting the opening chapter, when something in those pages caught me off guard. And then it hit me—clean, sharp, and humbling. How have I missed what the Third Step may truly be inviting us into?

For anyone unfamiliar, the Third Step in recovery says that we “made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.” On the surface, it sounds simple enough—surrender your will, your autonomy, your desires. Let God take the helm. But beneath that simplicity lies the raw truth that brought many of us to recovery in the first place: we finally saw how far we had drifted, how powerless we had become, how our lives had unraveled into chaos, disorder, and ruin. And in that unraveling, we recognized our need for a power greater than ourselves to intervene.

But here’s the part we rarely talk about. That moment of surrender doesn’t usually feel holy. It doesn’t feel triumphant. It feels like waking up from a long, heavy fog—numb, disoriented, spiritually exhausted. Faith feels distant. Purpose feels fractured. And somewhere in the stillness of that inner ache, a question rises: Am I drifting? And the honest answer is yes. We have drifted. And that truth cuts through the noise of our anxious, chaotic thoughts with a clarity we can’t ignore. Because in that moment, we’re no longer moved by emotion—we’re moved by a deliberate, trembling desire to choose something different.

Tozer writes that the direction of a life is not determined by the strength of the wind, but by the set of the will. He echoes Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s line: “It is the set of the sails and not the gales which tells us the way to go.” That line stopped me. Because if we’re honest—with ourselves and with our Heavenly Father—when we’re standing in the middle of doubt, fear, anxiety, or spiritual fatigue, this truth matters more than we realize.

It matters because the confrontation of the Third Step is not merely about surrender. It is about resetting the sails of our recovery, our faith, and our lives. It is about choosing—sometimes with trembling hands—to turn the bow of our soul back toward the One who has been waiting to guide us all along.

Anchor Verse: “Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living, but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” – Joshua 24:15, NRSVUE

I know—at first glance, this verse can feel like a cliché. It’s the kind of Scripture that ends up on wall art, coffee mugs, and Christian décor aisles. And for those who know the context, it might even raise a question: Why use Joshua 24:15 here? Why bring in a verse where Joshua is telling Israel to choose between the Lord and the gods of their ancestors or the gods of the Amorites?

But that’s exactly why I love this verse. Because Joshua isn’t simply telling Israel to “choose God.” He’s confronting them with a deeper truth: if you do not choose to serve the Lord, you will still serve something. You will serve the gods of your past, or the gods of the culture around you—but you will serve something.

And suddenly, the connection to the Third Step becomes painfully clear.

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Solidarity in Our Suffering

Every one of us knows what it feels like to wake up inside a prison we never saw ourselves enter. Not a prison of steel bars, but the kind built from fear, shame, distorted thinking, and the quiet suffering we carry alone. These are the prisons that don’t show up on a background check—but they shape our lives all the same.

And here’s the part we rarely admit to ourselves: most of the time, we don’t even realize we’re locked inside. We just feel the weight. The cycle. The hopelessness. Recovery calls this “your side of the street.” MRT calls it “recognizing your prison.” Scripture calls it remembering—remembering those in chains as though you were chained with them (Hebrews 13:3). Because the moment you recognize your own captivity is the moment you become capable of standing with someone else in theirs. Not with pity. Not with judgment. But with solidarity born from shared humanity and redeemed suffering.

I’ve lived in those invisible cells. I’ve counseled people trapped in them. And I’ve watched God use both literal and internal prisons to refine character, restore dignity, and reveal His mercy in ways comfort never could. So when I talk about suffering in solidarity, I’m not speaking as an observer—I’m speaking as someone who has been behind those walls and found Christ already waiting there. This devotional isn’t about theory. It’s about truth. It’s about recovery. It’s about the Gospel. And it’s about learning to see our own captivity clearly enough that we can walk beside others without superiority, without fear, and without pretending we’ve never been imprisoned ourselves.

What is the prison of your own suffering? For me, it was those moments where my life seemed to come undone – the rug pulled right out from underneath me. Locked in my own irrational thought process, false beliefs, and not understanding the reason I seemed to constantly be in this never-ending cycle of always finding myself in a place of brokenness, suffering, and hopelessness. There are moments in many individuals lives where they are in some form of a prison. And this prison may be a literal prison, or it may be a product of one’s circumstances. Whether this is a place of financial debt, broken relationship, physical limitations, disability, or injury, or any other constraining circumstance. 

Yet, the single most travesty within our Christian faith communities and fellowship is when fellow saints perceive those who are in some form of prison and are suffering – see them with a biased assumption that God has not favored them. That, they have committed some form of sin, or are spiritual rebellion. To some extent, there are those who have this idea that Christians suffering in their own prisons are lacking faith in God. 

However, let’s consider the Apostle Paul: he probably experienced similar judgments and perceptions. Specifically, when we read his epistles that were written while he was in prison and suffering for the cause of the Gospel. Early saints of the way may have seen his trouble as a sign of God’s own disfavor and wondered how someone with so much potential had fallen to such lowly depths. 

Now, consider the reality of what I am wanting to share with you today. Prisons today different from person to person – and are full of God’s beloved sons and daughters. Despite this reality, He uses these prison moments in profound and mighty ways. We see how he used Paul’s suffering and prison moments, Joseph of Egypt, John the Baptist, John the beloved disciple, and numerous other men within scripture. Most of these men were used by God in powerful ways and they have experienced imprisonment, captivity, or depth of loneliness and despair – and our Heavenly Father, in His tender mercies, used those moments. 

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Elder Patrick Kearon: “About His Business” | Sandpaper People and the Refiner’s Fire

How often have we walked into our Sunday meetings looking for a sanctuary from the world that seems to be troubled, in a state of confusion, and quite volatile and toxic? And yet, we step into a place where one may frequently find something much more challenging: a room full of people who have a wide range of differences. It may be quite tempting to see these differences as hinderances or even obstacles to our own spiritual growth. However, what if such annoyances of our specific wards are actually the very tools God uses to encourage, edify, and strengthen us? And sometimes, these people seemed to rub us the wrong way – you know – sandpaper people.1

Wait…what? Sandpaper people? Yep, exactly – sandpaper people are those who may rub us the wrong way. You know, the ones that seemingly get under our skin sometimes? The ones we may want to avoid, even at church. And yet, you may be wondering – what is a sandpaper person? And furthermore, what purpose do they serve?

Sandpaper is designed to smooth out and refine surfaces. A sheet, or strip, of paper that is quite abrasive, depending on the grade, where it smooths out rough spots, removes rust or old paint. It is also used to prepare surfaces for painting, staining, and polishing. In essence, sandpaper’s sole intention and purpose is to refine and smooth out the rough edges. And that is exactly what sandpaper do – they smooth out the rough edges and refine us in ways that help shape and transform us into whom our Heavenly Father has called us to become.

Isaiah 48:10 says, “See, I have refined you but not like silver; I have tested you in the furnace of adversity.” And you may be wondering, what does Isaiah 48:10 and sandpaper people have to do with attending Church?

Here is the simple truth: God does not refine us in isolation, nor does He shape us only through peaceful, agreeable circumstances. Instead, our Heavenly Father refines us in the furnace of adversity – and sometimes, that furnace of adversity looks surprisingly ordinary. You know, the person singing loudly behind you during Sacrament meeting. The kids with an apparent case of ants in their pants and parents doing their best to help them practice reverence. Or the person who shows up in jeans and a shirt with no tie. People that somehow do not fit our mold or expectations. Let’s face it – our wards consist of people full of personalities, preferences, quirks, and rough edges that collide with our own.

And this is an uncomfortable and beautiful reality.

Sandpaper people are part of God’s refining fire where we are to come together in unity of faith, common consent, and edifying and strengthening one another in the faith. Not because they are problematic. Not because they may appear less spiritual. And certainly, not because they are annoying obstacles to our worship. Because Our Heavenly Father, in his infinite wisdom, places us in communities where our rough edges meet theirs – and in that friction, something holy happens. Something we may not ever choose, yet something we desperately need.

Elder Patrick Kearon opened up the Saturday Morning Session of General Conference with a message titled About His Business” regarding how our service is a choice, an offering to God and a blessing. He appears to reframe the local ward, not as a social club for the like-minded individuals. Instead, he provided insight on how this may be a divine place of fellowship. A place where the friction of serving people who are “very different to us” creates the heat necessary to forge Christlike virtues – charity, meekness, and forgiveness – that simply may not be developed in isolation. If you’ve ever struggled to find your place in a diverse congregation, you are not failing the test; you are finally in the right place.

I want to take a moment and walk with you as we bridge the gap between modern apostolic counsel and ancient scripture. To understand how The Body of Christ requires every different member to function – and the reason our growth depends on the person sitting three pews away.

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The Ten Plagues, The Apocalypse, and The Ascent of the Saints: From Exodus to Revelation and the Doctrine of Exaltation

We are stepping into one of the most overlooked patterns within the scriptural narrative of Exodus chapters 7-13 – the journey from the Ten Plagues of Egypt to Exaltation – Divine Glory with Christ and the Father. We are going to look at the trajectory of moving from darkness of Egypt to the radiance of the divine presence of the Father and the Son. From judgment to redemption. From mortality to immortality and eternal life with Christ (Moses 1:39).. The ten plagues are not ancient catastrophes; they are a prophetic roadmap foreshadowing how we are to become heirs and joint-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17). Having overcome as He has overcame (Revelation 3:21) in order to sit with Christ on thrones the Father has prepared for each of us (Matthew 20:23).

Every plague reverses a day of creation. Every judgment against the Egyptian God’s, Pharaoh, and the Egyptian empire, culture, and society exposes a counterfeit god. And it is every act of divine power pushing Israel one step closer to the mountain of God. 

This is the pattern scripture reveals: descent into chaos, confrontation with darkness, and the ascent into God’s presence. Exodus establishes the divine architectural blueprint that Revelation completes. 

Christ, and the infinite atonement that is revealed through the plan of salvation, is at the center. It is the redemptive arc narrative – the covenantal path of righteousness we enter into. From the blood in the Nile to the blood of the Lamb of God slain from the foundation of the world (Revelation 13:8), the story is always pointing forward. The plagues themselves reveal the cost of spiritual rebellion. However, they also reveal the depth of God’s divine sovereign grace and mercy. 

The Passover Lamb, the Firstborn Son, the deliverance through water – baptism for the remission of sinsthese are not mere isolated events. They are shadows of Christ’s victory over sin, death, and spiritual bondage (Matthew 16:18-26). 

The purpose of God is specific: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man (Moses 1:39). It was never about escape. God was not simply removing Israel from Egypt; He was raising them into a people with a covenantal identity. Today, our Heavenly Father’s desire is to do the same with each one of us. Bring us out of our own Egypts, our own spiritual bondage, to awaken us so that we may arise from the dust and shake off the awful chains that hold us bound (Isaiah 52:2) so that we are able to put on the armor of righteousness and come forth out of obscurity (2 Nephi 1:23). 

The plagues themselves are the very chain breakers. Sinai is where a covenant people are formed. The story of the Exodus is not complete because the redeemed will eventually stand in the glory of God’s presence. For this is what Christ prayed for: This is life eternal that they may know thee, the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent (John 17:3). 

Revelation mirrors Exodus because the same God is acting. the bowls, the trumpets, the judgments – they echo the plagues because the final deliverance follows the same pattern as the first. The Saints are not merely escaping Egypt, Babylon, or Jerusalem; they are ascending into divine heavenly Glory, ascending into the New Jerusalem and its Heavenly Temple (Ezekiel 48:35; Revelation 3:12; Revelation 21-22; apocryphal works 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch, 3 Baruch). Directly into the presence of the Lamb of God. 

Reason this matters for us today is because every one of us walks this specific journey of spiritual growth and covenantal faith. We are moving from bondage to freedom. From darkness and into light, from spiritual Egypts to the mountain of a Holy Sovereign and Gracious God. The plagues themselves show us the cost of our sin, our spiritual rebellion, and disobedience. They also reveal God’s divine grace, His tender mercies, and the unstoppable trajectory of redemption – from plagues to glory is our covenantal path of righteousness and movement toward spiritual perfection and strait and narrow way that leads toward the Celestial Kingdom (Matthew 7:14). 

So, as we begin, keep this truth in mind: God does not leave His people in the place of judgment or condemnation. He leads them through it, beyond it, and into divine heavenly glory. The Exodus narrative is our own personal story and the ascent into immortality, eternal life, and exaltation is our calling. 

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