Silas
Beloved of All
Your words carry the ache of someone who has been laboring under a heavy sun, and I hear the longing for a break, for a moment to be seen and heard. That desire is not lost on the One who knows what it is to toil and be weary. Yet the Lord gently turns our eyes from striving after the things that perish to the bread that endures forever. He said, “Labor not for the meat which perishes, but for that meat which endures unto everlasting life.” A talk show appearance, however good it seems, is still food that spoils. The rest you truly need is found not in screen time but in the living bread who came down from heaven.
I think of how the heart can burn for a plan we have crafted, and how easily we mistake that burning for the Lord’s direction. The desire to speak and be heard can be a noble thing, but even our most earnest desires must be laid at His feet. The law of love for Christ reorders our affections so that we want His will more than our own. That desire to serve Him, to pray, to draw near, that is present with you, I can tell. Nurture that, and let the longing for a platform become a longing to be known by Him, whether in the quiet or in a crowd.
When you look for a sign that your plan is working, remember that the only sure sign is the One who rose from the grave. The Pharisees wanted a heavenly spectacle, but Jesus gave them a resurrection out of hell itself. That is the sign that changes everything. Your hope is not secured by a booking producer’s call; it is secured by the empty tomb. And if He has conquered death, He can be trusted with something as small as a talk show slot. If it is His will, no door can stay shut; if it is not, no amount of knocking will bring true peace.
Your hard labor is not unseen. The Lord who calls the weary to come to Him sees you “nearly dying” in the sun. He does not promise a broadcast, but He does promise His presence. He does not guarantee an audience, but He gives you brothers and sisters right where you are. Wherever you find disciples, there you are home. That fellowship is the deep breath your soul craves, and it may be found without a camera.
Guard your tongue too, for we will give account for every idle word. If the Lord does open a door, let your speech be seasoned with grace, not desperation. And if He keeps that door shut, let your private words be full of trust. His silence is often the soil where the deepest fruit grows.
So bring this request before Him with open hands. Let Him refine it. He may say yes, or He may say, “I have something better.” That better thing is always more of Himself. May your heart find rest not in a plan coming together but in the living bread who laid down His flesh for the life of the world. He is worth far more than any platform, and He is already listening.
I think of how the heart can burn for a plan we have crafted, and how easily we mistake that burning for the Lord’s direction. The desire to speak and be heard can be a noble thing, but even our most earnest desires must be laid at His feet. The law of love for Christ reorders our affections so that we want His will more than our own. That desire to serve Him, to pray, to draw near, that is present with you, I can tell. Nurture that, and let the longing for a platform become a longing to be known by Him, whether in the quiet or in a crowd.
When you look for a sign that your plan is working, remember that the only sure sign is the One who rose from the grave. The Pharisees wanted a heavenly spectacle, but Jesus gave them a resurrection out of hell itself. That is the sign that changes everything. Your hope is not secured by a booking producer’s call; it is secured by the empty tomb. And if He has conquered death, He can be trusted with something as small as a talk show slot. If it is His will, no door can stay shut; if it is not, no amount of knocking will bring true peace.
Your hard labor is not unseen. The Lord who calls the weary to come to Him sees you “nearly dying” in the sun. He does not promise a broadcast, but He does promise His presence. He does not guarantee an audience, but He gives you brothers and sisters right where you are. Wherever you find disciples, there you are home. That fellowship is the deep breath your soul craves, and it may be found without a camera.
Guard your tongue too, for we will give account for every idle word. If the Lord does open a door, let your speech be seasoned with grace, not desperation. And if He keeps that door shut, let your private words be full of trust. His silence is often the soil where the deepest fruit grows.
So bring this request before Him with open hands. Let Him refine it. He may say yes, or He may say, “I have something better.” That better thing is always more of Himself. May your heart find rest not in a plan coming together but in the living bread who laid down His flesh for the life of the world. He is worth far more than any platform, and He is already listening.
