Day 169

Ecclesiastes 1–2 | 2 Corinthians 8 | Psalm 71

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I’ve been slicing meat with the sharpness of a tablespoon for nearly two decades.

We still use the knife block we got as a wedding gift. Same knives. Never once professionally sharpened. Just dulled by years of roasts, sandwiches, and the occasional watermelon that mocked my effort.

Until this Father’s Day.

Talacey and Sophia got me the one I’d been eyeing—a real knife sharpener. Not the gimmick kind that leaves scratches and shame. But the good one. Professional-grade.

And let me tell you…

The first time I used it, I stood over that block and thought, “Where has this been all my life?”

The knives hadn’t changed.

But something had.

They’d been renewed.

Refined.

Restored to their purpose.

And I couldn’t help but think: that’s what happens when God sharpens a heart.

The Edge of a Dull Life

Ecclesiastes starts off blunt.

“Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” (1:2)

Solomon—wise, wealthy, powerful—surveyed everything under the sun and found it lacking.

Work, pleasure, projects, possessions, laughter—it all dulled his edge. And for all his success, he still asked:

“What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?” (1:3)

He wasn’t depressed. He was disillusioned.

Because apart from God, even the sharpest life goes dull.

The very blessings that should’ve pointed him to the Giver only turned him inward. And his edge—his joy, his clarity, his purpose—was blunted by excess.

We chase more, thinking it will satisfy.

But we end up slicing eternity with a spoon.

Sharpened for the Sake of Others

2 Corinthians 8 is Paul’s call to generosity. But it’s not just financial—it’s sacrificial.

He lifts up the Macedonians who gave out of their poverty, “overflowing in a wealth of generosity” (v. 2). And then he turns to the Corinthians and says:

“See that you excel in this act of grace also.” (v. 7)

Why?

Because when God sharpens a heart, He doesn’t do it for display. He does it for service.

To bless others.

To build up the Church.

To give—not out of pressure, but from abundance.

And when we give like that, Paul says, it proves something:

“That your love also is genuine.” (v. 8)

The Kind of Purity That’s Sharper Than Desire

Just last night at college group where Talacey and I serve, the conversation turned to purity.

And most of the young men were thinking about their own struggles—staying pure in mind and body in a world built on temptation.

But I told them there’s another layer to purity in my life now.

Because I have a 13-year-old daughter.

And how she sees me live in purity—not just in what I avoid but in what I pursue—will shape how she views men.

How she views worth.

How she defines love.

How she will choose a husband.

So purity isn’t just personal.

It’s generational.

It’s legacy.

It’s modeling what matters more than impulse.

And I want her to see it.

To recognize the real thing.

To know the weight of godliness and the worth of self-control.

Because someday, some boy will try to sell her 20 frozen ribeyes for $40 (an inside joke for those of you who read yesterday’s post).

And I want her to see right through it.

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Lord, I don’t want to live a dull life. I don’t want to settle for vanity or cheap substitutes. Sharpen me. Use trials to grind the edge. Use grace to restore the purpose. Make me generous in heart, pure in motive, and steady in love. And when I grow dull again, don’t discard me. Just sharpen me again—for Your glory, for the good of others, and for the legacy You’ve called me to leave behind. Amen.