A Slice of Infinity

As I studied Hebrews 13, I noticed in verse 16 that the word ‘communicate’ in the KJV was translated in the Yoruba version as ‘pínfúnni’ which means ‘giving or charity’. Immediately it caught my attention; ‘communicate’ in English today means to talk to people, share ideas. So I took a deeper dive to investigate.

That demand stands—regardless of circumstance. And if we are honest, it raises a question in the human heart: Why must a man suffer and still be required to live uprightly? Why don’t the difficulties of life automatically qualify him for divine reward? Why is more still required?

Outside that land, however, is a different reality. It is not necessarily loud chaos all the time—but it is a life where decisions are made without divine input. And when God is removed from the equation, even good systems can produce bad outcomes. This is why people can look at the same institution—like marriage—and arrive at completely different conclusions. One sees protection; another sees danger. One sees order; another sees risk.

There are those who pray long, those who pray with intensity, and those whose prayers carry a certain weight and fervency. These are not wrong in themselves. However, a critical question must be asked: is the length or intensity of prayer a true measure of alignment with God? Over time, a subtle belief has formed in many hearts—that persistence in prayer, when taken to sufficient length or intensity, can compel God to act. Prayer begins to be treated as though it were a mecha

From a political standpoint, this was intelligent. From a human perspective, it was effective. But from a divine standpoint, it was dangerous. The instruction of God to Israel concerning such unions had been clear. The people were warned not to intermarry with certain nations because of the spiritual implications. The concern was not merely cultural mixing, but the inevitable turning of the heart away from God.

There is something deeply relevant here, particularly when one considers the structure of modern political leadership. It is not uncommon to find systems where those in authority control a disproportionate share of a nation’s resources, while the people they govern struggle under economic pressure. The imbalance is often justified through complex systems of entitlement—allowances, benefits, privileges—but beneath it, the same ancient issue remains: an unwillingness to be sati

When a man continues to accumulate without restraint—when there is no sense of “enough,” no boundary of sufficiency, no inward check against excess—it may no longer be accurate to describe his condition as blessedness. It may instead be evidence that something within has shifted. The heart has quietly moved from trusting God’s provision to depending on material accumulation.

What is immediately evident is that this provision is not reactive. It is not as though the priests had come forward to complain of lack, nor is it presented as a solution to a visible crisis. Rather, it is embedded within God’s plan from the outset. Before the system is fully established, the sustenance of those who will serve within it has already been secured.

He may not have needed to kneel publicly before those altars to be implicated in them. By providing the space, the resources, and the permission, he had already aligned himself with what they represented. His heart had shifted, and his actions followed that shift. And God responded not to a label, but to a posture...David provided the resources. He prepared the plans. He organized the labor. But more importantly, he set his affection upon it. His heart moved ahead of his circ

They saw His power, but interpreted it through the lens they already possessed. Miracles became, in their imagination, evidence of political potential. Authority over demons suggested authority over empires. Even His teaching about the “kingdom of God” was filtered through categories of earthly rule. In their minds, they were not merely following a teacher; they were aligning themselves with a coming regime.

At first glance, both groups appear identical. They are all priests. They are all engaged in service. Yet, a closer look reveals a defining difference—only one group is described as those who “come near to the LORD.” This is not a casual detail; it is the dividing line. The explanation for this separation is given more fully in Ezekiel 44:10–13 (KJV)

This raises an uncomfortable but necessary reflection. If pressure reveals rather than creates, then the moments when people feel “crushed” are often moments when what is within them proves insufficient to sustain them. This is not a condemnation, but a diagnosis. It suggests that resilience in crisis is not improvised in the moment of suffering; it is formed in the unseen consistency of one’s life with God beforehand.

Scripture describes her as a well-crafted ship, built with precision and adorned with the finest materials available across nations. The imagery is deliberate. In Ezekiel 27:4–5, it says: “Thy borders are in the midst of the seas, thy builders have perfected thy beauty. They have made all thy ship boards of fir trees of Senir: they have taken cedars from Lebanon to make masts for thee.”

The weight of it pressed deeply upon my soul. Peace left. Sleep became difficult. The simple joy that once animated my days quietly disappeared. Life itself felt drained of colour and vitality. It was as though something within me had gone silent. Looking back, the only way I can describe that season is this: my music stopped.

The chapter begins by portraying Jerusalem as a helpless and abandoned child. God describes the city as though it were an infant cast aside at birth, unwanted and left to die. Yet in the midst of that helplessness, the Lord Himself intervenes. In Ezekiel 16:6 the Lord declares, “And when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live.”

The withdrawal of God's presence in Ezekiel reveals something important about how spiritual decline unfolds. Destruction begins when a people abandon the moral and spiritual foundation that sustains them, it does not begin at the overthrow through armies and physical collapse. In Ezekiel’s vision, the corruption began in the Temple itself—among leaders who were supposed to represent spiritual integrity. Once the sacred center of a society becomes corrupted, collapse becomes o

Solomon was not merely intelligent. According to the biblical narrative, his wisdom was unparalleled in human history. Kings sought his counsel. Scholars admired his understanding. Entire nations respected his insight. And yet this same man—so exceptionally gifted—was not able to guard his heart from the slow influence of misdirected love.

The problem is not the product, it is the machine. So long as the machine remains faulty, every product it produces will bear its defect. The human heart functions in much the same way. If the heart itself is spiritually misaligned—if it has not first been transformed by the love of God—then the loves that emerge from it will inevitably carry that distortion. A person may speak passionately about love, pursue relationships with sincerity, and even believe deeply in their feel

Before romantic love awakens, the heart must first be anchored in a deeper devotion. When the earliest and strongest affection of the soul is directed toward God, every other love is shaped by that foundation. But when romantic attachment captures the heart before it has been fully anchored in God, the influence can easily move in the opposite direction.

When Scripture describes Christ’s ascension, it does not narrate combustion beneath His feet. There is no thermal plume, no sonic boom, no s