This week confronted what happens when we wait too long. The devotional examined broken promises through the lens of Psalm 15 and Jonathan's costly faithfulness to David, then brought us face-to-face with Jesus's radical command in Matthew 5: First be reconciled to your brother, THEN offer your gift. Friday's seminar asked what we're avoiding: success that feels too heavy, honesty that costs too much, relationships we've damaged and don't know how to repair. Sunday sat with Jacob's decades-long grief over Joseph—the kind of sorrow that refuses comfort, that shapes your identity, that doesn't resolve on any timeline we'd choose. The thread connecting it all: regret grows in the gap between what we know we should do and what we're actually willing to do. Grace reconciles us to God, but it doesn't always reconcile us to each other. The relationship damage remains even when the sin is forgiven. Which is why Jesus says: Stop trying to exchange your guilt for God's favor through worship when you haven't dealt with the broken trust in your human relationships. Some conversations can't wait.

Have you ever been on the receiving end of a broken promise? Someone said they'd be there—they weren't. Someone said they'd help—they didn't. You remember it, don't you? Maybe it was years ago. Maybe decades. But you remember. Because broken promises don't just disappoint—they break trust. And broken trust changes everything. This week's devotional confronted the cost of promises we've failed to keep and the urgency of making things right while there's still time.

Psalm 15 asks: Who gets to be close to God? One characteristic David lists: someone who has "sworn to his hurt, and will not change it." The Hebrew word mûr means "will not change or exchange." Jonathan understood this. When his father Saul turned against David, Jonathan had to choose: break his word to David, or honor his oath even when it meant losing the throne. He chose to honor his oath. He gave up his claim to the kingdom. That's the standard for dwelling with God—someone whose word is reliable even when keeping it hurts. And we all fail it.

We're all promise-breakers. We exchange our promises constantly. We substitute excuses for commitments. We trade our word for whatever is more convenient. But Jesus did an exchange that was totally unique. 2 Corinthians 5:21: "For He made the [One] sin [to be] sin for us, that we might become [the] righteousness of God in Him." Jesus took our broken promises—our unfaithfulness, our unreliability, our constant exchanging of truth for lies—and exchanged it for His perfect faithfulness. He took our sin. We get His righteousness. He took our broken record. We get His perfect one. That's the divine exchange. That's grace.

But grace doesn't erase the consequences of broken trust in human relationships. God may forgive us, but the person we wronged might die before we make it right. The relationship damage remains even when the sin is forgiven. Which is why Jesus commands in Matthew 5:23-24: "Therefore if you offer your gift on the altar, and remember there that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go. First, be reconciled to your brother, and then, coming, offer your gift."

Stop trying to exchange your guilt for God's favor through worship when you haven't dealt with the broken trust in your human relationships. We try to substitute religious activity for actual repentance. But Jesus says: Leave your gift at the altar. Stop the religious exchange. Go make the relational exchange first. Reconciliation with people you've wronged is more urgent than your worship of God. Not because worship doesn't matter—but because God refuses the exchange you're trying to make until you make the exchange you're avoiding. First be reconciled. Then come and offer your gift. If you've broken someone's trust, make it right while you still can. Don't wait until the person dies. Don't wait until it's too late.

Sunday's study on grief that won't go away centered on Rachel weeping for her sons in Jeremiah 31:15—the same Hebrew word nakham (comfort/to sigh deeply) used when Jacob refused comfort over Joseph's death. This passage is part of a larger prophetic promise that traces the complete arc from exile through bitter lament to commanded hope and restoration, culminating in the new covenant. The entire chapter is being set to music as a three-song series.

Some grief refuses comfort. Not because you're bitter. Not because you lack faith. But because the loss cut so deep that everything else feels like an insult to what was taken. Sunday's study sat with Jacob's decades-long mourning over Joseph—grief that shaped his identity for thirteen years before he learned his son was alive. Genesis 37:35 says Jacob "refused to be comforted." The Hebrew word nakham means to sigh deeply, to comfort. Jacob wouldn't let anyone console him. He said he would "go down to Sheol mourning for my son." That's not a crisis of faith. That's love refusing to pretend the loss doesn't matter. Then in Genesis 45:26, when his sons tell him Joseph is alive and ruling Egypt, Jacob's heart "froze up"—the Hebrew poog means to grow numb, to be lifeless. Long grief had dulled his ability to trust joy. Even after reunion, in Genesis 47:9, Jacob told Pharaoh: "Few and evil have been the days of the years of my life." Restoration doesn't erase the scars. What Jacob learned—and what this study pressed us to see—is that grief can become your teacher. It taught Jacob to see himself as a pilgrim and sojourner, someone who doesn't belong to this world's rhythms. The study walked through six principles: First: Scripture gives permission to grieve without imposing a timeline. Second: Refusing comfort can be love's protest against forgetting. Third: God's covenant faithfulness continues even during seasons of lament. Fourth: Some griefs never disappear—they change shape and become the soil that grows compassion. Fifth: Grief matures into pilgrimage faith. And sixth: Pain is never wasted—God repurposes it to comfort others who suffer what we've suffered (2 Corinthians 1:3-4). This isn't about getting over it. It's about learning what God does with sorrow that refuses to be comforted.

This week's three themes—broken promises, avoidance versus waiting, and prolonged grief—all exist in the same uncomfortable space: the gap between what should be and what is. The new "Living in Tension" interactive study tool teaches you how to study Scripture passages about unresolved situations. Not what to think, but how to study them yourself. Three interconnected studies teach different biblical analysis methods: identifying urgency language (Matthew 5:23-24, Psalm 15), distinguishing prescriptive from descriptive passages (Joseph's story, Romans 12:18), and tracing Hebrew word families across Scripture (nakham—refusing comfort in Genesis 37:35, refusing comfort in Jeremiah 31:15, then God commanding hope in Jeremiah 31:16-17). Each study includes interactive word tools, visual learning aids, exercises to help you identify these patterns in other passages, and complete audio narration of every section—Scripture passages, method explanations, and Hebrew word studies. The goal isn't answers—it's methodology. Learn to recognize when Scripture prescribes immediate action versus patient waiting, how to spot urgency markers in the original languages, and how the same Hebrew words connect distant passages to reveal God's pattern. This is how you build the skills to study difficult passages yourself.

Friday's question cut straight to what most of us work very hard not to think about: What are you avoiding? Not the surface stuff—the difficult conversation you're postponing, the decision you keep delaying. The deeper question: What part of yourself, what truth, what calling are you running from? The seminar opened vulnerable space for people to name what they'd rather not face. One person spoke about running from success—visibility feels dangerous, achievement makes you a target, so you stay small on purpose. Another talked about being a lifelong people-pleaser who finally learned to say two words: "Forgive me." Just those words, with no excuses attached. That simple change transformed relationships with three adult children. Someone else raised the hardest question: estrangement from all four kids for years. Is that avoidance or is that waiting on God? The conversation didn't offer easy answers. Sometimes you can't force reconciliation. Sometimes like Joseph, thirteen years pass. You live in the tension—you can't make people forgive you, you pray for wisdom, you wait. God's definition of success isn't achievement—it's faithfulness and obedience (Joshua 1:8). That reframes everything. You're not running from failure. You're avoiding the weight of being faithful when faithfulness costs more than you want to pay.

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Until then, may you find the courage to make things right while there's still time.

"Then faith is of hearing, and hearing through the Word of God." – Romans 10:17 (KJ3)