It’s almost laughable how life lines up sometimes, how incredibly ironic our walk with Christ can be. The last post I shared was about letting go — about shaking the dust from my feet and trusting God with what we can’t carry — and now here I am, realizing He was quietly preparing my heart for the next step long before I even knew it was coming. As if my previous post, about an experience I had nearly a year ago, was but a prologue to the chapter that was about to unfold.
Sometimes God works like that: soft, unseen, almost invisible; shaping us, stretching us, and teaching us without fanfare. And only in hindsight do we see how deliberate it all was — how every moment, every pause, every struggle was part of His plan to get us ready for the next lesson. That’s the thing about walking with Him: He never stops whispering to our hearts, having us move as if we were making the decisions ourselves, when it was Him gently guiding us all along. He never stops moving us forward, never stops teaching, and never stops loving, even when we don’t notice.
And now, I feel as though He is inviting me — inviting us — to step a little closer. To walk the narrow path; not with fear, but with trust. To feel His presence beside us, steady and unwavering, even when the road feels lonely or uncertain. Because sometimes, walking with Him means standing apart from the world, even apart from those we love most.
There’s a kind of loneliness that only comes from walking with God. It’s not the loneliness of being abandoned, rather it’s the ache of being set apart.
Last night, I very nearly lost a(nother) friend. Not because I was cruel or careless, not at all, but because I spoke the truth; and the darkness of sin in others does not take kindly when they feel the light of righteousness shined upon them.
She claimed I was “judging her,” when all I wanted was to warn her, and not even just her, but to warn a group of people in my life.
I told her, “If my house were burning in the middle of the night, would you not bang on my windows and doors to wake me? Would you not try to pull me out of the flames? That’s all I am trying to do — to bang on the door of your soul to wake you enough to pull you from the flames headed straight towards you..” I shared what I did because I love her enough to offend her.
And the thing is, I didn’t even call out anything she did. I simply shared a picture I found online that said, “Christians aren’t trying to scare you; they’re trying to save you — from hell.”
It wasn’t personalized to her. It didn’t name her or mention anything she’d done. I added a note that read, “The only reason I ever mention hell is because hell is real, and the thought of somebody I love going there is unbearable. I love you all so much and want everyone I love to know the joy that I know; the joy of real love, and of salvation. So please, call out to Christ today, ask Him to set your heart on fire for Him, and then get into the Word today.”
And yet, she was offended. She told me I was being rude and judgmental — that I had no right to “call her out”, and that if I really cared about her, I would let her live her life without ever saying anything.
So I explained, gently but firmly, what I was doing and why. I told her that I share both the love and the wrath of God, because both are real and both are vital to understand. That it’s because i care, that I do say something, that only those that dont care enough would sit silently by as one walks into destruction.
And finally, that it wasn’t even about her, rather, it was for everyone. That when I send out my “Godly pics” – whether they be warnings/pleas to stop & consider their eternities, or they be uplifting sentiments of encouragement & love – every single soul in my life gets the same exact message, because I care enough about my own soul, as well as theirs, to obey the Word. And the Word tells me to share Christ and His truth with everyone.
So I won’t stop. She can walk away if she wants, but I won’t stop caring enough to risk offense for the sake of truth. Not because I want to lose her, or anyone in my life, but because I care too much to stay silent. And because God will always be number one to me. If that offends her, then she will continue to be offended. I will not water down the truth just to make it more palatable.
I know what I’m risking. I also know that the narrow path is costly. Sometimes God clears the crowd around us because they can’t go where He’s leading us. It hurts to lose people you care for, but there’s a strange, quiet joy that comes with it as well — a bittersweetness in knowing that you’ve chosen Christ over companions, and truth over tolerance.
Yeshua warned that His Word would divide: “Do not think that I came to bring peace, but a sword… A man’s enemies will be those of his own household.” (Matthew 10:34–36)
He said this not because He delights in division, but because Light always exposes darkness — and darkness resists being exposed. When we speak the truth, those bound to their sin will call conviction “judgment.” They’ll call our love “hateful” and “mean“. But silence would be far crueler than honesty could ever be.
And one day, she will realize this. She will realize that everything I ever said about God was for her sake, because I cared, and because I so desperately wanted to try to help save her soul from an eternity of misery, of regret, of pain. I only pray that it isn’t too late when she does — that God grants her eyes to see and ears to hear before her day of judgment before the Creator Himself.
So if obedience ever costs you relationships, don’t despair. You didn’t lose them — you offered them up. You proved to Heaven that Adonai means more to you than approval from man ever could.
And one day, when the smoke clears and truth is revealed, they might just remember the sound of your voice — pounding on the door of their soul — and thank God that you cared enough to wake them, no matter how long the rousing took.
☩ For the Narrow Path
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven.” ~Matthew 5:10–12
“If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” ~John 15:18–19
“Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching… As for you, be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.” ~2 Timothy 4:2–5
“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.” ~Galatians 1:10
“Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you and cast out your name as evil, for the Son of Man’s sake. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy! For indeed your reward is great in heaven.” ~Luke 6:22–23
Closing Reflections:
If you’ve ever walked away from a conversation with trembling hands and a heavy heart — wondering if you said too much, or if you should have just stayed quiet — remember this: Heaven saw your courage. Adonai knows the cost.
Every word spoken in love for His Name is never wasted. The seeds of truth may fall on hard soil now, but the rain of conviction will come in His time. Keep speaking. Keep loving. Keep standing firm, even if it means standing alone — because you’re never truly alone.
The narrow road may be lonely, but we walk where the footprints of prophets, apostles, and saints have pressed the earth — where Elijah stood unshaken, where Paul sang in chains, where Mary wept in worship.
I follow the narrow path lit by the flames of the faithful — by those like Latimer and Ridley, who on this very day so long ago, set their lives to kindling and declared, “We shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England, as I trust shall never be put out.” Their fire still burns, guiding the steps of all who refuse to bow down to darkness.
And somewhere along that same road, there’s you — a Jesus-Freak and Soul-Warrior, walking hand in hand with the One who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.
So take heart. Keep your lamp burning. Keep your voice lifted. And when the world calls your compassion “judgment,” just smile softly and remember — truth wrapped in love will always offend darkness, but it will also light the way home. So even in the ache of being set apart, never forget: Christ’s hand is reaching down, tender and unwavering, to console you and draw you near to reach up and grab it.
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☩ One cup. One Christ. One calling. ☩
— Sunday Morning Coffee & Christ
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