Day 103

Joshua 17–18 | Acts 4:32–5:16 | Psalm 44

It looked generous.

It looked spiritual.

It looked like the kind of thing that would earn you a standing ovation in the early church.

But it wasn’t true.

Ananias and Sapphira sold a piece of property, kept some of the money, and laid the rest at the apostles’ feet—pretending it was the full amount. Not because they were required to give it all. But because they wanted to look like they did.

And Peter says something that makes the room go still:

“You have not lied to man but to God.” (Acts 5:4)

And just like that—two people fall dead.

And a holy hush falls over the church.

What God Doesn’t Want From Me

I read this and I don’t think about money.

I think about how tempting it is to come across like I have it all together.

Like I never hesitate to obey.

Like I never feel dry when I open the Word.

Like boldness is my default setting.

Like writing 100+ devotionals means I wake up each morning on fire for God, bursting with spiritual clarity and insight.

But the truth?

Most days I have to force myself to sit down.

Most days I feel unworthy to even open the Bible—let alone write about it.

Most days I don’t feel like a theologian.

Or a leader.

Or a man whose story is one worth following.

And when someone stops me in the grocery store to say, “Hey, I read your blog…”

I feel a knot in my stomach.

Because I don’t want them to think I’ve arrived.

I haven’t.

I’m not a spiritual superstar.

I’m not a Bible scholar.

I’m just a sinner who showed up to the page one day earlier than they did.

And if there’s anything good in my words, it’s because God put it there.

Honest Faith Over Impressive Religion

Ananias and Sapphira weren’t judged because they gave less.

They were judged because they pretended.

Because they used the appearance of surrender to cover up their self-preservation.

And that’s the warning I need.

God isn’t asking for polish.

He’s asking for honesty.

The early church didn’t grow because everyone was perfect.

It grew because the people were filled with awe—and emptied of pretense.

They had nothing to prove and no one to impress.

They just came hungry.

And God moved.

When I Sit Down to Write

Every time I write one of these, I fight two lies:

1. That I have nothing worth saying.

2. That I need to sound like I have everything figured out.

Neither is true.

So here’s the reality:

This is hard for me.

I still struggle.

I still stumble.

And I still need grace—every single day.

But the same God who saw through Ananias? He sees through me too.

And still invites me in.

Not to perform.

But to abide.

⸻

Lord, strip me of my pretense. I don’t want to pretend to be more faithful than I am. More surrendered than I feel. More wise than I’ve actually become. I want to walk in truth—even when it’s messy. Even when it’s incomplete. Even when it exposes how much I still need You. Thank You for using people who haven’t arrived. Thank You for grace that flows through honesty.

Amen.