Testing the Spirits

In these contentious times, many people are claiming to have heard from God. However, one thing that is generally missing from such pronouncements is how the person knows that they have heard from God.

This is especially interesting since the Bible is clear, in both the Old and New Testaments, that we need to be discerning about such claims, and that while we should not despise prophecy, we should carefully test the spirits. Jesus, Paul, and John all warned us about the deceptions that would occur. In most cases, the context is when people are claiming to speak for God. In those cases, Scripture is clear that they need to be tested because the danger of false prophets is real and significant.

Thus, while we should probably be open when others claim to have heard from the Spirit, we should be discerning and careful to test. This is particularly important when what is said affects other people. This is certainly true when the guidance affects many people, but probably applies even when it affects one other person. In generally, whenever someone claims to speak for God into someone else’s life, that claim should be tested.

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Beyond Antioch

Recently, I’ve been part of some conversations where Acts 16:5 has been used as an encouragement for pursuing church growth. Here’s the verse:

“So the churches were strengthened in the faith, and they increased in numbers daily.”  Acts 16:5 (ESV)

It is indeed an uplifting passage, describing churches that were flourishing both spiritually and numerically. But the natural question is: what was happening that led to this kind of growth—and what might it teach us about how the Spirit can still work among us today?

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False Witness and the Politics of Blasphemy

Revelation pulls no punches in unveiling how empire works against God’s kingdom. The dragon’s chosen servants are not only soldiers and governors, but storytellers—mouthpieces who shape the imagination of the world. Revelation 13 portrays the beast rising from the sea, armed not only with power but with propaganda:

And the beast was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words, and it was allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months. It opened its mouth to utter blasphemies against God, blaspheming his name and his dwelling, that is, those who dwell in heaven. Revelation 13:5–6 (ESV)

Here we learn something critical: empire’s greatest weapon is not its armies, but its lies. It reshapes God into its own image and invites the world to worship the counterfeit.

Blasphemy is not merely swearing or mockery—it is the slander of God’s character, the peddling of false testimony about who He is and what He desires. It is the beast taking the holy name of God upon its lips and twisting it into a justification for its violence, its greed, its lust for power. And this, Revelation insists, is not an ancient relic but an enduring temptation for every age. The beast still speaks.

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Seeing the Mark of the Beast

In the book of Revelation, the “mark” or “number” of the beast has often been used throughout history to target particular people, movements, or institutions. In many end-times interpretations, someone is linked with the number of the beast as if Revelation were predicting a specific person, event, or organization. The number itself—666—most likely refers to Nero, the cruel Roman emperor who was the first to really persecute Christians. Although Nero died before Revelation was written, rumors persisted that he might return.

Yet, given the symbolic nature of Revelation, the number was probably never meant to point to a single individual alone. Instead, it seems to represent recurring spiritual forces—patterns of evil—that can appear in many forms throughout history.

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Revelation and Human Objectification

The book of Revelation is notoriously difficult to interpret, filled with vivid imagery, mysterious symbols, and dramatic pronouncements. Yet, amidst its complexity, some passages resonate with unmistakable clarity. Revelation chapter 18, for example, paints a haunting picture of the fall of corrupt powers, where the wealthy and powerful weep—not for justice, but for their lost ability to profit. In particular, verses 11–13 depict merchants lamenting that no one buys their luxurious cargo anymore. The detailed list of goods includes precious metals, spices, animals, and—most strikingly—“slaves, that is, human souls.”

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Exploring This Lukewarm Empire

The church in the West—particularly in America—seems to have lost its way. It’s not advancing the Kingdom as it should. Some time ago, I was drawn to the Letter to the Laodiceans in the book of Revelation. Among the seven messages to the churches, this one is perhaps the most well-known, largely due to its use of the term “lukewarm.” That image powerfully captures a church that has drifted from its purpose, and it struck me that the critique and counsel Jesus offers there might still apply to us today.

Jesus’ commands in the letter are metaphorical rather than prescriptive. They don’t give us a checklist of actions, but they do serve as starting points for prayerful reflection and seeking. Although the letter was originally addressed to a congregation, Jesus ends it with a personal call: “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door…” That makes it clear that His appeal is not limited to a collective response but is extended to individuals willing to listen and respond.

Of course, this is just one of the seven letters to the churches. Each contains a different mix of commendation, correction, and encouragement. Still, the letter to Laodicea, as the final message, feels in some ways like a summary—a culminating call to attention.

Over the years, I’ve spent time meditating on the metaphors in this letter. It became increasingly clear that to grasp its full meaning—especially when compared and combined with insights from the other six letters—one must develop a deeper understanding of the book of Revelation as a whole. This is no small task. Revelation’s rich symbolic language and its distance from us in both time and culture make it a difficult book to fully interpret. Still, even the early stages of study have opened up fresh insights. I believe there’s fruitful ground here for ongoing spiritual discovery.

At a broad level, Revelation can be seen as portraying the conflict between the kingdom of God and worldly empires—essentially satanic in nature—that oppose it. Its vivid, symbolic imagery reveals the spiritual forces at work behind physical events. The negative powers, led by the dragon (Satan), are aligned with idolatry, greed, blasphemy, sexual immorality, abuse of power, and all that resists God’s purposes. These forces attack God’s people—sometimes through violent opposition, but often through subtle deception.

Though the cultural forms have changed, these same spiritual battles continue today. The false gods we face may not demand animal sacrifice, but they show up in the worship of wealth, self, and sensuality. Part of studying Revelation is to uncover spiritual truths that echo the teachings found throughout Scripture. It’s not just about decoding apocalyptic imagery—it’s about learning how to live faithfully in the midst of ongoing spiritual conflict.

God’s faithful people, both then and now, are called to witness against these forces. This witness takes two forms: the lived witness of actions aligned with the kingdom of God, and the verbal witness that proclaims His truth. The battle, at its heart, is spiritual. Satan’s weapon is deception, and the church’s counter-weapon is faithful witness. Along the way, believers may be misled, attacked, or worn down—but Revelation shows that victory belongs to God. The unfolding of that victory gives us insight into the challenges we face and what faithfulness looks like in the meantime.

This is the part I find most compelling. I’m seeking clarity on what this spiritual battle looks like today, what the church’s role is, and—most personally—what my role is within it. Along those lines, much of the future work of this blog will focus on exploring the spiritual themes in Revelation, lining them up against the current world, and seeking ways to witness more effectively.

The Hidden Idolatry of Modern Christianity

In Christianity, idolatry is traditionally understood as the act of worshiping something or someone other than the one true God. Worship, in this context, typically implies acts of adoration, dependence, and prioritization. This definition often conjures images of carved idols or golden statues—physical objects revered in place of God. Yet, the New Testament broadens this concept, equating greed with idolatry. This perspective invites us to rethink idolatry’s implications for our spiritual lives and interactions with the world around us.

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Effective Evangelism: Spiritual Insights from Acts

The phrase “ends of the Earth” as it appears in the book of Acts pertains to those who are far from God. Acts chronicles a great deal of evangelistic activity, yet it offers only a few instances where we are provided with detailed accounts of the messages shared with people who are in this category. These examples warrant closer examination to uncover insights about the methods used and their outcomes.

In one such example, Paul and Barnabas visit the city of Lystra (Acts 14:8-18). Here, Paul performs a miraculous healing of a lame beggar, which evokes a dramatic response from the townspeople. Believing that Paul and Barnabas are manifestations of their gods, Hermes and Zeus, the people prepare to offer them worship. This reaction is linked to a regional myth about the gods previously visiting in disguise and being overlooked, leading the people of Lystra to vow not to repeat the mistake. Paul and Barnabas reject this misplaced veneration, redirecting the crowd’s attention to the one true God. Interestingly, Acts does not record Paul explicitly mentioning Jesus in this instance. The outcome? There is no mention of conversions, and Paul and Barnabas eventually move on to the next city, seemingly leaving behind a community unchanged by their message.

Athens presents a starkly different scenario (Acts 17:16-34). Paul engages with the local populace in the agora, or marketplace, which leads to his invitation to address the learned elite on Mars Hill. His speech here stands out for its cultural resonance: Paul begins with the Athenians’ own worldview, referencing their religious practices and even quoting Greek poets to introduce them to the concept of the one true God. From this foundation, he moves on to the subject of Jesus and the resurrection. The results in Athens were more mixed: some listeners believed, while others expressed a desire to hear more, and still others dismissed him outright. Nevertheless, it is noteworthy that Paul tailored his approach to align with the intellectual and cultural framework of his audience, resulting in tangible spiritual fruit.

Later in Acts, Paul finds himself arrested in Jerusalem, leading to an audience with King Agrippa (Acts 26:1-32). Given this opportunity, Paul shares his personal testimony, recounting his dramatic conversion on the road to Damascus. Rather than addressing Agrippa’s specific concerns or context, Paul focuses on his own story. The outcome is clear: Agrippa is unmoved, dismissing Paul’s appeal and showing no interest in embracing Christianity.

It is worth noting that the examples above are the primary instances in Acts where messages are delivered to those far outside the Jewish faith or the category of “God-fearers”—non-Jews who already believed in the God of Israel and needed to be introduced to Jesus. Among these three encounters, Paul’s only apparent success was with the intellectuals at Mars Hill. A possible reason for this lies in his method. Unlike in Lystra or before Agrippa, Paul at Mars Hill made deliberate use of the listeners’ cultural context and knowledge to frame his message.

In contrast, Paul’s approach in Lystra seems detached from the people’s preoccupations. The townspeople’s focus on their local myth appears to be ignored or unacknowledged in Paul’s exhortation. His message is a generalized appeal to accept the God of Israel, devoid of specific references to Jesus. Similarly, with Agrippa, Paul relies solely on recounting his personal spiritual journey, without any evident attempt to connect with the king’s unique perspective or concerns.

This leads to a broader reflection on the effectiveness of Paul’s strategies. Could it be that these accounts reveal the importance of speaking not just from personal conviction but in a manner that resonates with the audience? Paul is often assumed to have always spoken under the direct guidance of the Holy Spirit, yet Acts does not explicitly affirm this in every instance. The varying outcomes—particularly the apparent lack of conversions in Lystra and with Agrippa—might suggest that even Paul had to navigate the challenges of effective communication and cultural engagement.

Indeed, Paul later requests prayer for boldness and clarity in proclaiming the Gospel (eg, Eph. 6:19 and Col. 4:4), an acknowledgment that effective evangelism requires divine empowerment as well as thoughtful preparation. This is what I’ve termed “speaking in power” in this blog, and highlights a significant tension in Christian witness: the balance between faithfulness to the message and adaptability to the audience’s needs. The examples in Acts remind us that successful communication of the Gospel often requires humility, contextual sensitivity, and reliance on the Holy Spirit.

Pentecost and the End of Slavery

Pentecost is often seen to be the start of the church, as the Holy Spirit filled the small band of believers. Sometimes focus is placed on the result of the Spirit’s filling, namely speaking in tongues, as an indication of the presence of the Spirit. Others see the primary impact to be the fellowship that existed shortly after this event as more and more people entered the community.

In this blog, we’ve looked at the effectiveness of Peter’s speech, how it was the first example of Jesus’ statement that the Father would give us words to speak of Him, and how this example was followed by others in Acts, modeled by Paul’s prayer requests, and described in the theology in his letters.

I think that there’s another way of looking at the Spirit’s effects in the lives of the early believers, and that is to consider the difference between freeing slaves and ending slavery that I discussed earlier. In that discussion, slavery was used as both a literal problem and as a metaphor for the many ways that people are subject to the kingdom of this world, rather than the kingdom of God. The idea is that, while it is good to free slaves, to help people whenever we can in whatever ways we can, it is better to remove the institutions of slavery completely.

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Lukewarm Tools

On its own, humanity lives enslaved to a worldly system of excessive pleasure, greed, and selfish pride.

Jesus proclaimed freedom, the coming of the kingdom of God, in which such slavery would no longer exist. All forms of slavery that could not be eliminated through natural means would be eliminated as He sent His disciples out to announce this good news and bring about the kingdom, changing the nature of the world. To be effective at this work, the disciples learned to be channels through which the Spirit worked to change hearts, not just minds.

From the beginning, Christians followed this call in ways that overtook empires and changed society, altering the very fabric of Western civilization. When freeing slaves looked like healing people, ending slavery looked like establishing hospitals, advancing medicine. Reading and writing became ubiquitous as formal education was made widely available even up to university levels, and the institution of literal slavery itself was dismantled. All these are examples of the Spirit working through those who had more in order to help those with less.

Today, however, we have gone back to natural means for establishing God’s rule, relying on human capabilities. Through things like rationality, organization, and legalism, we have worked to change circumstances and behavior. This seems successful as we continue to free slaves, but falls short of both Jesus’ command and the early church’s example of ending slavery. Many of our efforts today reach only some of those who need to hear of God’s love, and so limit the degree to which the kingdom can advance.

Perhaps as Western society flourished as a largely Christian place, we became complacent to the spiritual needs around us. Perhaps we have allowed ourselves to feel good about freeing the occasional slave while leaving slavery itself intact. However, being a good steward of God’s grace means bringing reconciliation to society, not just individuals.

So, while we’re patting ourselves on the back for how many slaves we’ve freed, Jesus stands at the door, calling us out of lukewarmness with offers of His Spirit.