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“Ash-pe-naz, in your honest judgment, do you think I will get out of this room?” the sick king asked in a shaky, sickly voice.

“Take some water, my Lord," Ashpenaz responded. After a while Ashpenaz continued, “You will not only survive this ailment but live for many years to come. You have been faithful in your service to the people and have not failed in your commitment to the gods, and they cannot abandon you now at your hour of need.” He ended on a note that connoted confidence.

“Nothing could be farther from the fact,” said the king in agreement. “However, ‘Is that the truth?'" He asked rhetorically and continued, “I have an army of 12,000 soldiers headed by my venturesome son and a shrine filled with gods from various nations. However, can any of these gods or soldiers stop the angel of death from striking at his time?"

Each of his breaths was deep and heavy and seemed to be his last. He moved his body to sit in a slant position while resting his back on his pillow.

“Ashpenaz, it’s good to be motivational and hopeful, but let’s face reality. I am going to die any moment from now, and you know that’s true," the king said unapologetically.

He took a deeper breath and continued, “You have been loyal and faithful to me and the kingdom; you are the most trustworthy servant in my realm. That’s why I want you to listen to me carefully as I commit my last request to you.”

Ashpenaz moved his chair closer and listened with keen interest. “Ashpenaz!” the king called emphatically with audible stress in his speech.

“At your service, my lord,” he replied faithfully. “I am handing over my son, Nebuchadnezzar, unto your wise guidance. I want you to be a father to him. I know he’ll make an excellent king, but he’ll do better under your watch."

"He had been on the field from his tender age and knows a great deal about battles and conquests well enough, but he hardly spends time with the Senate and the people. I want you to advise him on kingdom matters and manage-nage-ment, and also summon the senate and the royal household. I want to have a parting word with them before…"

He was interrupted by his cough. Ashpenaz offered him another cup of water.
Having taken the cup of water, the king tried to continue his words, but the cough watered down his strength to speak further. He coughed the entire evening and all night long; the cough persisted.

As his custom was, Ashpenaz wasted no time in carrying out instructions; immediately, he sent out letters to each member of the senate through the Heart Watchers. A body that was once an infamous cult group that was lately drafted into the Shinar’s government as a recognized system by the king, in replacement of the popular palace messengers, on the advice of his son.

The Heart Watchers were anonymous; it was made up of 10 ninjas and 15 secret military agents who were trained as couriers, for espionage and assassinations—it was headed by a captain.

They were contracted only for clandestine operations and were known to operate in high secrecy, with an unbroken record of not leaving a single known trace during their operation since their inception. A popular impression about its members is that they were the reincarnation of past war legends.

Kaptain Lamblion JC

A WORD FOR YOU.
(Insights For Life)


Behold, I have set the land before you: go in and possess the land which the Lord sware unto your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give unto them and to their seed after them. Deuteronomy 1:8 KJV


GO IN AND POSSESS THE LAND!
The distance between where you are and where you are destined for is a STEP. Just one step is what makes the whole difference. God has already declared your destination you are the one to confirm it with your decision. God's plan and desire for you has been clearly stated but you have a part to play to fulfill it - GO IN.

Some years ago, there were many motivational speakers and preachers always saying: "it's a dreamer's world", "dream big" and many similar statements. But when you look deeply, you discover that the world is now full of dreamers but no real change. Why? It's because this world is no longer for dreamers, it is now for takers. Dreamers are those who have goals, visions, plans. While takers, are those who pursue their dreams. They are those who get to work on their goals.

In our reference scripture, the Lord has set the goal, the vision, the blessing (land) before you, but to possess it, you must ARISE, you must GO IN. You must Make the move; take the step, get to work, do what it takes - Do it now. Have you proposed? Have you collected the list? Have you done site inspection? Have you checked the product and prices? Have you done consultation? Do you have a sample? Have you done feasibility studies? Have you bought the form, talked to the manager, do you know where to get it? Listen, Someone else is after what you desire. STOP DREAMING, START TAKING, ENOUGH OF YOUR PLANNING - GO IN AND POSSESS THE LAND. Receive grace to make the right move and take up opportunity today. Be blessed, Stay refreshed!


#AwordForYou
#InsightsforLife
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#DewChurchGlobal
#LifereFreshingMinistry
#IAMADEW

continuation of chapter 1.1
This is where the tragedy deepens into a full-blown farce. The very thing he fights—the emotion—is just a faithful messenger, a postman delivering news of what he already believes. He treats the messenger as the enemy, beats him up, throws him into the street, while refusing to read the letter. “How dare you bring me this feeling of reluctance!” he cries, as the postman, now a bruised but still very present emotion, sighs and says, “Sir, I’m just doing my job. Take it up with the author.” The Apostle Paul once said, “The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace” (Romans 8:6). Notice he didn’t say, “Beat the flesh-mind with a stick until it learns to behave.” He spoke of a whole new governing. But we prefer a hostile takeover of the post office. We’d rather wrestle the mailman to the ground and demand he bring us different letters while we refuse to change the address the letters are coming from.
‎
‎And because his efforts to defeat the emotion always, always fail in the long run (for a wrong belief will never, ever yield a lasting right feeling), he becomes thoroughly exhausted. And from this exhaustion he draws a devastating conclusion, as if he has discovered some profound truth: “Righteousness itself is a burden. The spiritual life is nothing but a soul-crushing war against my own inner resistance. God is hard, and I am a failure.” That conclusion becomes a shiny new piece of false knowledge, producing even darker emotions, and the cycle tightens its grip, like a snake charmer who’s charmed himself. It’s a self-perpetuating carnival ride: you pay admission with your peace, the ride spins you until you’re nauseous, and when you vomit, the ride operator yells, “See! That’s proof you’re not holy enough! Here’s a mop, and by the way, the next spin starts in five minutes.” The ticket booth is your own false belief, and you keep buying the season pass.
‎
‎But here is the most confusing and tragic knot of all: when sound knowledge is offered to him—when someone gently says, “My friend, your view of God is a bad caricature; the truth is that He is a Father who already, right now, delights in you, and righteous living is simply your natural, joyful response to that love, not a bribe to get it”—man often refuses it. Why? Because he has become so identified with his emotional struggle that he mistakes it for spiritual seriousness. He has been fighting the emotion for so long that he believes the fight itself is righteousness. He’s become a kind of spiritual hypochondriac who thinks his constant pain is proof of his sensitivity. To abandon the fight and accept a new view feels not like liberation, but like surrender, like letting go of his “conscientiousness.” He mistakes his spiritual exhaustion for piety. He rigidly refuses the very knowledge that would set him free, because he has confused the war against the symptom with the actual work. He now believes in his emotional exhaustion as proof of his devotion, like a man who thinks the noise the engine makes is what makes the car go. And if you suggest otherwise, he’ll quote Scripture to defend his misery: “I discipline my body and bring it into subjection” (1 Corinthians 9:27) becomes “I beat up my emotions daily and call it apostleship.” Paul was talking about self-control, not self-flagellation with a cat-o'-nine-tails made of guilt. But the misquoter stands there, whip in hand, proud of his welts, awaiting a martyr’s crown.
‎
‎So the confusion is a multi-layered cake of bewilderment:
‎
‎1. Wrong knowledge produces a painful emotion (the projector’s running a bad film).
‎2. Then man perceives the emotion as the primary problem (he tries to fix the screen).
‎3. He attacks the emotion instead of exchanging the knowledge (he starts scrubbing the screen with a wire brush).
‎4. When his attack fails, he blames himself or God, generating new false knowledge (“The projector hates me.”).
‎5. He then defends his struggle as righteous, rejecting any truth that would dismantle his agonizing framework (“Don’t you dare touch my wire brush! This is holy work!”).
‎
‎He ends up fighting the very belief he has not changed, all the while thinking he is fighting the right opponent—his emotion. Yet the emotion, in its very making, is nothing but the living shape of what he believes. It is not the problem to be solved; it is the faithful echo of a false premise. The wisest man who ever lived put it this way: “Guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23). The heart in Hebrew thought includes the mind, the inner knowing. Guard that. But we’ve turned “guard your heart” into “patrol your feelings like a prison warden and shoot any inmate who looks suspicious.” The original advice was about planting a good tree; we made it about beating up the bad fruit with a baseball bat.
‎
‎Years ago, when I was a focus pastor at a campus, a young man came to me with a dilemma so perfectly tragicomical that it nearly stopped my watch. He wanted to overcome lust. His specific problem was that he could not withstand having an erection in front of a beautiful woman. He saw this natural, biological response not as a bodily event, but as a personal betrayal of cosmic proportions. He had, in his mind, already been enlisted in a war against the devil, and his own body was, apparently, a double agent. His proposed solutions were, shall we say, drastic. He was of a view either to have his penis cut off, or to remove the neural centers that generate a response that causes the erection—a sort of internal scorched-earth policy, all in order to satisfy God and escape sin. He was ready to amputate the messenger. Now, he was practically quoting Jesus, though he didn’t realize the irony: “If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away” (Matthew 5:30). But Jesus was using holy hyperbole to deal with sin radically, not handing out surgical consent forms. If you take that verse as a literal amputation manual, you’ll end up as a disembodied stump within a month, and still sinning—because last I checked, you can sin in your thoughts with no hands at all. The only thing worse than a lustful thought is a lustful thought in a body with no parts left to express it, just a torso with a dirty mind. That’s not holiness; that’s a medical oddity.
‎
‎So I asked, with a straight face, “Well, while we’re at it, why not remove your eyes? Or maybe we could just hide you in a cave far, far away, where you can’t ever see a female again. We could airlift in supplies. You’d be completely, perfectly holy—and utterly alone, but hey, no more erections! You could start a new monastic order: the Order of the Perpetually Safe and Extremely Lone.” There was a pause, a flicker of a grin. It was funny, and at the same time desperately serious. He was battling the emotion, the feeling, the embarrassing ambush of his own body, with the only weapon he knew: violent control. He told me however much he had read scriptures, however many times he had fasted until his stomach gnawed at his backbone, nothing had changed. The projector kept showing the film. And in the end, he asked me to lay hands on him, that the authority and power of the Holy Spirit might do a miracle and change him instantly—as if the truth were a lightning bolt that would zap the wrong belief away without his understanding ever having to be involved. He wanted a magical solution to a physiological and theological confusion, a divine software patch downloaded through the ether. But the Holy Spirit is not a cosmic IT desk that reboots your hard drive while you remain blissfully unconscious of the update; the liberation, as Jesus said, comes through knowing the truth (John 8:32), and the truth is a new piece of knowledge that makes the whole absurd struggle evaporate like a mist in the morning sun. You don’t need a hand laid on your forehead; you need a truth laid in your understanding. But we prefer the drama of a fall under the power to the quiet dignity of a mind renewed.
‎
‎And so the silent comedy continues: man remains locked in a war he was never meant to fight, swinging his sword at shadows while the unexamined lie sits enthroned within, calmly, peacefully, reproducing the chaos. Liberation never comes through battling feelings. It comes only when a man is willing to let a new, true piece of knowledge enter and dismantle the lie—and then, astonishingly, the feeling changes on its own, as naturally as a flower opening to the light. The flower doesn’t wrestle its petals apart with grunts and sweat; it simply quits hiding from the sun.
‎
‎Now, just when you thought the absurdity was confined to our internal skirmishes, this same poison of misperception has infected our identities. We have created a grand, global drama of what might be called “hate your neighbor as you hate yourself.”
‎
‎Look at how we are raised. A child born into a Muslim family is, from birth, taught that they are automatically on the righteous team, and that the other team—the Christian one, the Hindu one, all the others—are not just wrong, but constitute a kind of cosmic rebellion that must be fought. A child born into a Christian family inhales the same emotional posture in reverse. Narrow it further: an Anglican is a quiet, dignified rebel against the Catholic; the Catholic against the Anglican. And as the denominations multiply like rabbits, so do the silent, emotional wars. We are not born into truth; we are born into an emotional game of ancestral sports teams. It’s not Manchester United vs. Liverpool, it’s the Assembly of the Firstborn vs. The Remnant of the True Remnant, and both sides are convinced the other is going down in the end-time relegation playoffs. Paul had to beg the early church, “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you” (1 Corinthians 1:10). Already, some were saying “I follow Paul,” others “I follow Apollos.” Today it’s “I follow the pastor who preaches exactly thirty-seven minutes and frowns on drums” versus “I follow the guy with the fog machine and the motivational podcast.” The teams have multiplied, but the game is the same: spiritual paintball with real pain.
‎
‎And such a child, let’s say a Catholic child, grows up secretly awaiting the day when the heavenly trumpets blast and the voice from the clouds, like the sound of a thousand megaphones, roars: “Woooooh! All Catholics, please proceed to Gate A—you are definitely the chosen people! The rest… could you please form an orderly queue, as you are now cosmic toast.” Then they will celebrate, not as someone finally meeting the Beloved, but as a successful rebel who backed the winning horse. And they will turn to their Anglican and Pentecostal friends in the line and say, with genuine, tragic sincerity, “Bro, it was nice knowing you. Remember, I told you, you were on the wrong code. But I’ll miss you. I’ll try to explain your case to Christ; maybe He can downgrade your eternal torment to a mild, lukewarm purgatory.” It sounds like a joke, but it’s the secret emotional undercurrent of a mind that has mistaken a team jersey for a transformed heart. And we haven’t even mentioned the Baptists, who are certain that heaven has an immersion baptismal at the gate and you’ll need a dry-cleaned robe to enter. The only real difference between us and a soccer hooligan is that he’ll fight you in the parking lot, while we’ll just write a strongly worded doctrinal statement explaining why your parking lot doesn’t exist.
‎
‎So, the question is not whether we should fight other religions as rebels or not. That’s like arguing about which character in a movie is the real hero while the entire theater is on fire. The question is: when did we accept this confusion to begin with? When did we sign up for the spiritual war reenactment society? The Scriptures actually tell us that “there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). You’d think that would put an end to the team jerseys. But no, we immediately divided ourselves into the “One-in-Christ” denomination and the “Also-One-in-Christ-but-with-correct-eschatology” denomination. The church split is always pre-packaged in the very verse meant to heal it. That’s not a revival; that’s a sitcom.
‎
‎In all this, humans are unable to realize one liberating fact: they are not fighting for wisdom. They are just fighting with their emotions, dressed up as soldiers. They are trapped in inherited, emotional feuds, mistaking cultural loyalties and religious brand names for the pursuit of the Divine. A change in understanding—a coming to know the truth of the matter—naturally alters a person’s response to this entire magnificent mass of confusion. You do not need to fight the emotion, whether it’s the hatred of holiness or the smug thrill of being on the “correct” team. You need to see that the whole game is being played on a board that doesn’t exist, propelled by a belief that was never true to begin with. And when you see that, you don’t have to fight to be free. You look around, have a deep cosmic chuckle, and realize you always were. You were the prisoner who spent years begging for freedom while clutching the key to your cell, insisting the key was a holy back-scratcher and you must suffer well.
‎
‎And this brings us to the most delicious piece of the puzzle, the final twist in the cosmic comedy: there is, in truth, no real hatred for righteousness at all. How could there be? The man has never actually tasted it. He is like a fellow who marches into the kitchen, slaps together a meal of boiled anxiety and raw self-effort with a generous pinch of grim duty, arranges it on a plate, sits down at the dining table, and then—before even lifting the fork—explodes with indignation. “What is this dreadful stench? Who chose these ingredients? I despise the salt! Who is the chef around here, some kind of cosmic sadist?” And all the while, he is the one who did the shopping, the cooking, and the seasoning. He is complaining about his own recipe and calling it “God’s banquet.” Isaiah saw this coming: “Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare” (Isaiah 55:2). God is advertising a free, sumptuous feast, and we’re in the corner microwaving a shoe and calling it the “hard path of discipleship.” The shoe is leathery and tough to swallow, and we’re convinced that’s the cost of holiness—never realizing God’s been shouting from the dining room, “Put the shoe down! I have steak!”
‎
‎Man has not had a single real taste of righteousness, because he has been far too busy force-feeding himself a meal he prepared with his own terrified hands. He never paused to consider that there might be a completely different dish, prepared by a completely different Chef, that would make his taste buds sing. He hasn’t even thought to ask, “Perhaps before I complain, I might find out what the right meal actually is.” Instead, he sits at the table, arms crossed, fuming at the aroma of his own boiling resentment, convinced that he hates the forty-course feast of the Divine because the bowl of cold gruel he made for himself tasted awful. The liberation comes not from learning to stomach the gruel with a forced smile, but from discovering that there was a glorious, free banquet prepared all along, and you, my friend, were invited the whole time. And when that truth lands, the complaint evaporates—not because you fought it, but because you finally got up from the table of your own miserable cooking and took a seat where the real food is. And the real food is Himself. “I am the bread of life,” He said. “Whoever comes to me will never go hungry” (John 6:35). That’s not a diet plan; that’s a person.
‎
‎Now, let's be absolutely clear about this, because the joke is on all of us and it's simply too good to miss: the trouble isn't that you have a weak will or a rebellious heart. The hatred of righteousness—that queasy, squirming resistance to what is good and holy—is not some black moral stain on your character that ought to make you hang your head in shame and enroll in a twelve-step program for deplorable sinners. No, no. It is a symptom of a mistake in understanding. A kind of intellectual cramp. A mental charley horse. It's as though your mind has been sitting in an awkward position for too long and has gone completely numb, and now you're furious at the tingling sensation, calling it demonic, when all you really need to do is stand up and walk around a bit. The devil loves a charley horse that gets mistaken for a demonic attack, because it means you’ll spend the next hour rebuking your calf instead of just stretching.
‎
‎But of course, we are human. And human beings, bless our dramatic little hearts, live this life swimming in the medium of emotion as fish swim in water. We wake, we feel, we react. An unpleasant emotion arises, and before you can say "existential crisis," we have named it, judged it, and declared holy war upon it. Quite naturally, we make the mistake of treating certain feelings as ghouls, as demons, as personal Satans lurking in the basement of the psyche, rubbing their hands together and plotting our spiritual downfall. We picture a little red imp with a pitchfork hiding behind our medulla oblongata, whispering, "Go on, feel resentful about holiness, it'll be fun." And then we spend the next three hours rebuking it. But a feeling is not a gremlin. It is simply a manifestation—a shadow on the wall, cast by whatever we happen to believe is true. And you don't defeat a shadow by punching the wall. You'll only break your knuckles and look rather silly. You’ll also have a dented wall and a very confused shadow, which will still be there, probably mocking you.
‎
‎But I want you to notice something quite wonderful, something so obvious that it is almost completely invisible to us in our state of spiritual panic: your emotions, in whatever costume they decide to wear to the party—whether it's gloom, lust, irritation, or that very specific feeling of wanting to strangle the person who just said "just trust the process"—are not intruders. They are perfectly in order. They are, as it were, God-given messengers. And you wouldn't waste a single moment fighting your own nervous system for doing exactly what it's supposed to do. You don't shout at the echo for bouncing back when you call into a canyon. "Why, you impertinent echo! How dare you repeat my exact words back to me with a slight delay! I rebuke you in the name of acoustical propriety!" Absurd, isn't it? Yet here we are, spending our days in full-scale civil war against the very things that make us complete, blasting the echo with a shotgun and wondering why the canyon still talks back. The echo is just your own voice returning to you, and if you don’t like what you hear, the solution is not to silence the canyon; it’s to change the shout. “For as he thinks in his heart, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7). The man’s inner shout shapes his echo. If his thinking is sour, his emotions will smell like a pickle jar left open in the sun. You don’t ban pickles; you change the factory.
‎
‎The only way to know where you actually stand in your understanding of this universe—what you really, secretly, deep-in-your-bones believe—is to take a good, honest look at your emotional state in any given moment. Your feelings are the painting, splashed across the canvas of your experience in vivid color. Your beliefs are the tiny, almost invisible signature at the bottom. If the painting is a chaotic swirl of dread, resentment, and spiritual indigestion, you don't fix it by throwing turpentine at the canvas. You find the painter and ask him what on earth he was thinking.

HC Cowboy Ministries · Cowboys & the Cross Podcast · Riding for the Brand of Jesus Christ
Cowboy Morning Devotion

A Rope That
Reaches
HEAVEN
A cowboy never rides out without his rope — and a believer should never ride out without prayer.

Mark 11:22–24
|
James 5:16–18
|
1 Thess. 5:17
Rev. Joseph Holmes · HC Cowboy Ministries

✦ Saddle Up
No Cowboy Rides Out Without His Rope
Walk down the line of saddled horses at any ranch in the country, and you'll see the same thing hanging off every saddle: a rope. Not because trouble is guaranteed that day — but because a cowboy never knows when he'll need it, and when he needs it, nothing else will do. The rope pulls calves out of bogs. It catches what's running away. It drags what's too heavy to carry. It's the tool that extends a man's reach far past the end of his own arm.

A cowboy would sooner ride out without his hat than without his rope. It's checked, coiled, and hung where his hand can find it without looking.

Friend, prayer is that rope for the believer. It is the God-given tool that extends your reach past everything your own two hands can do — all the way up into the throne room of heaven. And this morning, the Word of God wants to show you what that rope is made of, how it's thrown, and why it should never leave your saddle.

✦ The Word ✦
✦ Holy Scripture
Believe That You Receive
So Jesus answered and said to them, "Have faith in God. For assuredly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be removed and be cast into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that those things he says will be done, he will have whatever he says. Therefore I say to you, whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them."

Mark 11:22–24 · NKJV

Confess your trespasses to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed earnestly that it would not rain; and it did not rain on the land for three years and six months. And he prayed again, and the heaven gave rain, and the earth produced its fruit.

James 5:16–18 · NKJV

Pray without ceasing.

1 Thessalonians 5:17 · NKJV

✦ Part One ✦
✦ Mark 11:22–24
Faith Is the Arm That Throws the Rope
Notice the order of Jesus' words in Mark 11. Before He says one thing about asking, He says: Have faith in God. Faith comes first — because faith is what puts power behind the prayer. A rope lying coiled on the saddle horn catches nothing. It has to be thrown, and thrown with intent, by an arm that believes the loop will land.

A young hand learning to rope throws timid — half-hearted loops that fall short and collapse. Why? He doesn't yet believe his throw. But watch an old roper. Smooth, committed, full follow-through — because a thousand catches have taught him that the loop goes where he sends it.

"A timid loop never caught a calf, and a doubting prayer never moved a mountain."

Jesus says pray like that. Believe that you receive. Not a wish flung at the ceiling. Not a maybe muttered out of habit. A full-armed, committed throw of faith — aimed at a God who is good, who is listening, and who is able. That's not arrogance, and it's not a magic formula for getting whatever we want; John tells us confidence in prayer rests on asking according to His will. It's confidence in the One catching the other end of the rope. The mountain doesn't move because your throw is perfect. It moves because your God is.

✦ Part Two ✦
✦ James 5:16–18
An Ordinary Man and an Extraordinary Rope
James makes a statement that ought to stop every one of us mid-stride: The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much. Avails much — not a little, not sometimes, not symbolically. Much. Real weight moves when a righteous man throws that rope with fervor.

And then James gives us his example — Elijah. A man who prayed and the sky shut for three and a half years. Prayed again and it opened. But don't miss the phrase James tucks in there: Elijah was a man with a nature like ours. Same doubts. Same fears. Same bad days. This is the same Elijah who ran scared from Jezebel and asked God to let him die under a juniper tree. Not a superhero. A plain man with a strong rope.

"God doesn't need a special man. He needs an ordinary man who actually throws the rope."

That word fervent matters too. It means prayer with your whole arm in it — earnest, persistent, engaged. Elijah didn't mumble once about rain and walk off. First Kings says he bowed to the ground and sent his servant to look at the sky seven times. Six times: nothing. He kept praying. The seventh: a cloud the size of a man's hand — and then the sky went black with rain.

Some of you are six throws in on something and thinking about coiling up the rope. Don't. The cloud may already be rising past the horizon where you can't see it yet.

✦ Part Three ✦
✦ 1 Thessalonians 5:17
Keep the Rope on the Saddle, Not in the Barn
Three words from Paul: Pray without ceasing. Not "pray when it's bad." Not "pray on Sundays." Without ceasing — prayer as the constant companion of the ride, not the emergency kit you dig out after the wreck.

Too many believers treat prayer like a fire extinguisher — mounted on the wall, glass unbroken, touched only in catastrophe. But the cowboy's rope isn't emergency equipment. It's everyday equipment. He uses it constantly, for big jobs and small ones, until throwing it is as natural as breathing. That's the prayer life Paul is describing: talking to God in the truck, at the gate, over the fence line, in the waiting room — a running conversation with the One who never leaves your side.

Keeping the rope within reach

First Light

Throw the first loop of the day before your boots hit the porch — even three sentences of honest prayer aims the whole day.


All Day Long

Short throws, all day: gratitude at the gate, intercession in the truck, help in the hard moment. No ceremony required.


Last Watch

Coil the day back up with God before sleep — confess it, thank Him for it, and hand tomorrow's weight to the night watchman who never dozes.

"Prayer was never meant to be your last resort. It's your first rope, your best rope, and the only one long enough to reach heaven."

And remember what Jesus said about the mustard seed — faith doesn't have to be huge to be real. A seed's power isn't in its size but in what it's planted in. Your little faith, planted in a limitless God, throws a rope that no mountain, no drought, no diagnosis, and no locked door can withstand. So ride out this morning with the rope on your saddle, cowboy. Throw it early. Throw it often. Throw it with your whole arm. Heaven is holding the other end.

✦ Reflection ✦
✦ Sit with This
Questions to Carry Into the Day
Honest gut-check: is prayer your everyday rope or your emergency kit? What would "praying without ceasing" actually look like woven through your normal day?

Jesus said believe that you receive. Where have your prayers become timid loops — asked without any real expectation that God will act?

Elijah was an ordinary man who kept praying — seven looks at the sky before the cloud appeared. What have you quit praying about too soon that God may be calling you to take back up?

Faith the size of a mustard seed moves mountains because of Who it's planted in. Is your confidence resting on the size of your faith — or on the greatness of your God?

✦ Morning Prayer
Let Us Pray
Heavenly Father,

Thank You that prayer is real — not a ritual, not a formality, but a rope that runs from my saddle all the way to Your throne. Thank You that You hear, that You act, and that You invite an ordinary man like me to come boldly.

Forgive me for the timid loops — the prayers I've thrown halfway, expecting nothing, and the seasons I've left the rope hanging in the barn until trouble hit. This morning I'm putting it back on the saddle where it belongs.

Grow my faith, Lord. Teach me to pray like Elijah — an ordinary man, praying earnestly, refusing to quit at the sixth look when the cloud is coming on the seventh. Give me a praying life that runs all day long: first light, fence line, and last watch.

And for the mountain in front of me right now — You know the one — I'm throwing the rope this morning with my whole arm. I believe You are good, I believe You are able, and I trust Your answer, Your timing, and Your will.

In Jesus' Name, Amen.

✦ Cowboy Motivational Quote ✦
"A cowboy never rides out without his rope, so don't you ride out without your prayers. Throw 'em early, throw 'em often, and throw 'em with your whole arm — because that rope reaches all the way to heaven, and the Lord's never once let go of His end."
— Rev. Joseph Holmes · HC Cowboy Ministries

HC Cowboy Ministries

Cowboys & the Cross Podcast

Rev. Joseph Holmes · Riding for the Brand of Jesus Christ

HC Cowboy Ministries · Cowboys & the Cross Podcast · Riding for the Brand of Jesus Christ
Cowboy Morning Devotion

PROOF
of the Brand
On a ranch, nobody cares what you say you can do. They watch what you do. Heaven watches the same way.

2 Corinthians 9:13
|
2 Corinthians 9:6–8
|
James 2:17
|
Matthew 5:16
Rev. Joseph Holmes · HC Cowboy Ministries

✦ Saddle Up
Talk Is Cheap on a Ranch
Every outfit has met him — the new hand who shows up talking big. Claims he can rope anything with four legs, ride anything with hair, and outwork any man in the bunkhouse. And every seasoned cowboy responds the same way: nobody argues with him. Nobody debates him. They just hand him a rope, point him at the herd, and watch.

Because on a ranch, the proof isn't in the talking. The proof is in the doing. Within one gather, everybody knows exactly what that man is made of — not because of what he claimed, but because of what they witnessed.

The Apostle Paul understood this principle down to his boots. In 2 Corinthians 9, he's writing about a collection being gathered for the suffering believers in Jerusalem — and in verse 13, he says something remarkable about what generous giving actually does. It proves things. It testifies. It shows the watching world that a man's confession of Christ isn't just talk — and it makes people glorify God. This morning, let's ride through it.

✦ The Word ✦
✦ Holy Scripture
The Proof of This Ministry
...while, through the proof of this ministry, they glorify God for the obedience of your confession to the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal sharing with them and all men.

2 Corinthians 9:13 · NKJV

But this I say: He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may have an abundance for every good work.

2 Corinthians 9:6–8 · NKJV

Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

James 2:17 · NKJV

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.

Matthew 5:16 · NKJV

✦ Part One ✦
✦ The Obedience of Your Confession
Your Life Is the Proof of Your Words
Look at Paul's phrase: the obedience of your confession. The Corinthians had confessed the gospel of Christ with their mouths. But Paul says their giving was the proof — the demonstration that the confession was real. Their open hands backed up their open mouths.

That's brand-inspector language. When cattle come through the sale barn, the inspector doesn't take the seller's word for whose stock it is. He reads the brand. The mark on the hide is the proof of ownership — visible, verifiable, burned in. Paul is saying your life carries a brand the world can read, and generosity is one of its clearest marks.

"Your confession tells folks whose you claim to be. Your conduct shows them whose you really are."

James says it even harder: faith by itself, without works, is dead. He's not saying works save you — salvation is by grace through faith alone. He's saying living faith always leaves tracks. A horse that never leaves hoofprints isn't standing still — it isn't there at all. And a faith that never produces obedience, generosity, or love isn't dormant. It was never alive.

Cowboy, this morning's question is simple: if a brand inspector examined your life — not your words, your life — whose mark would he find on it?

✦ Part Two ✦
✦ Liberal Sharing
The Law of the Chuckwagon
Paul praises the Corinthians for their liberal sharing with them and all men. Not careful sharing. Not calculated sharing. Liberal — generous, open-handed, more than required.

The old West had its own version of that. It was the unwritten law of the chuckwagon: nobody who rode up hungry got turned away. Stranger or friend, hired hand or drifter, you got a plate and a place by the fire. Homesteaders left the cabin unlocked with firewood stacked and coffee on the shelf for whoever might pass through in a storm. Neighbors showed up at branding time without being asked and never sent a bill. That generosity wasn't weakness — it was the backbone of survival in hard country, and it was a matter of honor.

"Nobody ever rode away from a chuckwagon hungry — and nobody should ever walk away from a Christian empty."

Notice too the reach of it: sharing with them and all men. The Corinthians were Gentiles giving to Jewish believers they'd never met — across every line their culture drew. Chuckwagon generosity didn't check your background before it filled your plate, and neither does gospel generosity. It flows to the brother in the church pew and to the stranger on the road, because it isn't responding to the worthiness of the receiver. It's reflecting the character of the Giver.

What liberal sharing looks like from the saddle

Your Provision

The paycheck, the harvest, the extra — held with an open hand, ready to feed whoever God sends up your trail.


Your Time

Showing up at your neighbor's branding — the hospital visit, the fence that needs two men, the widow's truck that won't start.


Your Fire

A place at your table and a seat by your fire for the lonely, the drifting, and the ones nobody else invites.

And here's the promise that funds it all — verse 8: God is able to make all grace abound toward you... that you may have an abundance for every good work. The rancher who shares his hay isn't gambling; he's trusting the God who grows the grass. You cannot out-give the One who owns the cattle on a thousand hills.

✦ Part Three ✦
✦ They Glorify God
The Glory Rides Past You to Him
Now catch the destination of it all. When the Jerusalem believers received the Corinthians' gift, Paul says they didn't throw a parade for Corinth. They glorified God. The generosity was so clearly the fruit of the gospel that the praise sailed right past the givers and landed on the Giver of all things.

That's the exact target Jesus set in Matthew 5:16 — let your light shine so that men see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. Not glorify you. Him.

"A good hand doesn't work to get his name talked about. He works so the brand he rides for is respected in every county it's known."

A cowboy who rides for a great outfit understands this instinctively. When he does his job with excellence, folks don't just say "that's a good man" — they say "that outfit hires good men." His work raises the reputation of the brand. And when you live open-handed, keep your word, show up for your neighbor, and give like God's supply has no bottom — the watching world doesn't just conclude you're generous. They conclude your God is real.

That's the proof of the ministry. That's the obedience of your confession. That's a cowboy's life preaching a sermon his mouth never has to finish. So ride out this morning with open hands — and let every gift, every favor, every plate filled at your fire send the glory right on up the trail to the One who deserves it.

✦ Reflection ✦
✦ Sit with This
Questions to Carry Into the Day
If someone examined the proof of your life this past month — your giving, your time, your open hands — what would it testify about your confession of Christ?

The chuckwagon law fed stranger and friend alike. Is your generosity reaching "all men," or only the folks who are easy to give to?

Paul says God supplies "an abundance for every good work." Is there a generosity God has been nudging you toward that you've been holding back on out of fear of not having enough?

When people experience your kindness, does the glory land on you — or does it travel past you to your Father in heaven? How can you aim it higher this week?

✦ Morning Prayer
Let Us Pray
Heavenly Father,

You are the great Giver — You gave Your own Son before I ever gave You a thing. Every acre, every animal, every dollar and every breath I have came off Your supply wagon first.

So this morning I'm asking You to make my life the proof of my confession. I don't want to be the hand who talks big at the bunkhouse and comes up empty at the gather. Let my giving, my time, my table, and my fire testify that the gospel I claim has actually taken hold of me.

Teach me the law of the chuckwagon, Lord — nobody turned away, nobody sent off empty. Stretch my generosity past the easy people to all men, the way Yours stretched all the way to me. And when I'm tempted to grip tight out of fear, remind me that You are able to make all grace abound, and that I cannot out-give the God who owns it all.

Most of all — let the glory ride past me and land on You. Let folks see the work and praise the Father. That's the brand I want my life to carry.

In Jesus' Name, Amen.

✦ Cowboy Motivational Quote ✦
"Any man can claim a brand with his mouth. The proof is in how he rides, how he gives, and who gets fed at his fire. Live so open-handed that when folks see your tracks, they don't praise the cowboy — they praise the God he rides for."
— Rev. Joseph Holmes · HC Cowboy Ministries

HC Cowboy Ministries

Cowboys & the Cross Podcast

Rev. Joseph Holmes · Riding for the Brand of Jesus Christ

HC Cowboy Ministries · Cowboys & the Cross Podcast · Riding for the Brand of Jesus Christ
Cowboy Morning Devotion

The Code
✦ ✝ ✦
and the Cross
The cowboy code isn't something you signed once. It's something you live every sunrise — and so is following Jesus.

Lamentations 3:22–23
|
Luke 9:23
|
Psalm 25:4–5
Rev. Joseph Holmes · HC Cowboy Ministries

✦ Saddle Up
The Code Was Never Written Down
The old cowboy code was never printed in a rulebook. Nobody signed it. Nobody swore it before a judge. And yet every hand on every outfit knew it by heart: keep your word. Ride for the brand. Finish what you start. Take care of your horse before you take care of yourself. Do the hard thing when the hard thing is the right thing. Never leave a man in trouble.

Here's what made the code powerful — it wasn't a one-time decision. It was a daily practice. A cowboy didn't live the code by having agreed to it once back in his youth. He lived it by getting up every single morning and choosing it again. In the rain. In the dust. When the boss was watching and when nobody was. The code was renewed at every sunrise, or it wasn't a code at all — it was just a memory.

Friend, your walk with Jesus works exactly the same way. And this morning, the Word of God has something to say about daily renewal that every code-living cowboy will understand in his bones.

✦ The Word ✦
✦ Holy Scripture
New Every Morning
Through the LORD's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22–23 · NKJV

Then He said to them all, "If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me."

Luke 9:23 · NKJV

Show me Your ways, O LORD; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; on You I wait all the day.

Psalm 25:4–5 · NKJV

✦ Part One ✦
✦ Luke 9:23
Jesus Put the Word "Daily" in There on Purpose
Look carefully at Luke 9:23. Jesus didn't say take up your cross once. He didn't say take it up when you got baptized, or the day you walked the aisle, or that summer at camp when you got serious about God. He said take up your cross daily.

That one word changes everything about how we understand the Christian life. Following Jesus isn't a decision you made — it's a decision you make. Past tense faith is like a past tense code: if it only lives in your history, it doesn't live at all.

"A cowboy doesn't ride on yesterday's saddle time, and a Christian doesn't walk on yesterday's surrender."

Every working man knows this rhythm. You don't feed the horses once and call it done for the month. You don't check the fence line one time a year. The ranch runs on daily faithfulness — small, repeated, unglamorous acts of showing up. Nobody applauds you for feeding at dawn. But everything alive on that place depends on it.

Your soul runs the same way. Daily surrender. Daily prayer. Daily time in the Word. Daily choosing His way over your way. It isn't glamorous, and most of it happens where nobody sees. But everything alive in your walk with God depends on it.

✦ Part Two ✦
✦ Lamentations 3
His Mercies Beat You to the Barn
Now here's the part that keeps daily renewal from becoming a burden — because if this were all on you, it would crush you. Jeremiah, writing from the ashes of a destroyed Jerusalem, in one of the darkest books in the Bible, suddenly lifts his head and declares: His compassions fail not. They are new every morning.

Catch what that means. Before you got up this morning — before your boots hit the floor, before you had one good thought or made one right choice — God's mercy was already up. Already waiting. Already new. You don't renew your walk with Jesus by manufacturing fresh commitment out of your own grit. You renew it by meeting the mercy that got there first.

"You didn't beat God to the sunrise. His mercy was saddled and waiting before your feet ever hit the floor."

Yesterday's failures? Covered by this morning's mercy. Yesterday's victories? They were His grace too — and today comes with a fresh supply. That's why the cowboy code and the Cross fit together so well: the code demands daily faithfulness, but the Cross supplies daily mercy. One without the other either crushes a man or coddles him. Together, they build him.

✦ Part Three ✦
✦ The Code & the Book
The Cowboy Code Was Always Pointing to the Book
Ever notice how much of the old cowboy code sounds like it was lifted straight out of Scripture? That's no accident. The men who carved out the West carried Bibles in their saddlebags, and the code they lived by grew out of the Book they read by firelight. Look at how they line up:

1
Keep your word — your handshake is your bond.

"But let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No.'" — Matthew 5:37

2
Ride for the brand — be loyal to the outfit you serve.

"No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." — Luke 9:62

3
Finish what you start — see the job through.

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." — 2 Timothy 4:7

4
Take care of your horse before yourself — put others first.

"A righteous man regards the life of his animal." — Proverbs 12:10 · "Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others." — Philippians 2:4

5
Do the hard thing when it's the right thing.

"Therefore, to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin." — James 4:17

6
Never leave a man in trouble.

"Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." — Galatians 6:2

"The code will make you a good man. Only the Cross can make you a new one."

But hear this clearly: the code, as good as it is, can only shape your conduct. It can't save your soul. A man can keep every point of the code and still be lost without Jesus. The code tells you how to ride — the Cross tells you Whose you are. Live the code because you love the Christ, not instead of knowing Him. And renew both every morning: pick up the code with your boots, and pick up the Cross with your heart.

Psalm 25 gives us the daily prayer for it: Show me Your ways, O LORD; teach me Your paths. Not "showed me once." Show me — today, fresh, again. That's a man renewing his walk. That's a cowboy living the code. Same posture. Same sunrise. Same faithful God.

✦ Reflection ✦
✦ Sit with This
Questions to Carry Into the Day
Is your faith running on a decision you made years ago, or a surrender you renewed this morning? What does "take up your cross daily" look like practically for you today?

Which point of the code comes easiest to you — and which one does the Lord keep bringing back around because it still needs work?

Lamentations says His mercies are new every morning. Is there a failure from yesterday you're still carrying that this morning's mercy has already covered?

The code shapes conduct; only the Cross saves. Is there any part of you that's been trusting your good living instead of your Savior? What would it mean to lay that down today?

✦ Morning Prayer
Let Us Pray
Heavenly Father,

Thank You that Your mercies didn't run out at midnight. Thank You that before my boots hit the floor this morning, Your compassion was already new, already waiting, already enough for whatever this day holds.

Lord, I take up my cross again today — not because yesterday didn't count, but because You said daily, and I believe You meant it. Renew my walk this morning. Where my faith has gone stale, breathe on it. Where my commitment has been coasting on old decisions, bring it back to a fresh surrender.

Help me live the code the way the old-timers did — keeping my word, riding for Your brand, finishing what I start, putting others ahead of myself, doing the hard right thing, and never leaving a soul in trouble. But keep me from ever trusting the code instead of the Cross. My good living doesn't save me. Your Son does.

Show me Your ways, O LORD. Teach me Your paths. Today. Fresh. Again.

In Jesus' Name, Amen.

✦ Cowboy Motivational Quote ✦
"The code ain't something you signed — it's something you saddle up every morning. Same with following Jesus. His mercy is new at every sunrise, so meet Him there, partner. Live the code. Carry the Cross. And ride today like both of them matter — because they do."
— Rev. Joseph Holmes · HC Cowboy Ministries

HC Cowboy Ministries

Cowboys & the Cross Podcast

Rev. Joseph Holmes · Riding for the Brand of Jesus Christ

Good morning. Peace be with you. Happy 250 America. This is my prayer for you on this July 4th. I have shared a Bible verse, a biblical teaching and a motivational message. #prayer #bibleverse

_Romans 8:28 (NIV)_
*And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.*

_Meaning:_
*This verse reminds us that God can bring good out of every situation. Even when we face difficulties, disappointments, or delays, He is working behind the scenes for our benefit according to His perfect plan.*

*Motivational Thought:*
_Never lose hope because of today's struggles. Trust God's timing and purpose. What seems like a setback today may become the foundation of tomorrow's blessing. Keep your faith strong—God is always working for your good, even when you cannot see it. _