Forgiveness

Pastor and author Esau McCauley tells the following story about learning to forgive:

Growing up, I had good reason to loathe my father. He was abusive and struggled with addiction. He cycled in and out of jail, and that sent my family tumbling down the economic ladder.

Before he died when I was in my mid-30s, I realized that my sense of my own righteousness had callused into something cruel. I didn’t want him to change, because his poor behavior formed a central part of my identity. He left his family; I built one. He was addicted to drugs; I barely drank alcohol. As long as I compared myself with him in this way, I needed his brokenness to provide direction. I was not running toward the good; I was fleeing him.

I remember the day that my father apologized to me. We hadn’t spoken in years but were now reunited at my sister’s wedding. During a lull in the rehearsal, I asked him the questions that had been with me my whole life: “Why did you leave, and why did you stay away?” He replied, “Son, I don’t rightly know. After I left, I saw that you all were doing better without me, so I stayed away. I’m sorry.”

What shocked me most was how difficult it was to accept this new version of him even as he tried to make amends. Who was I if I wasn’t a person with a wicked father? I was confronted with a miracle that I was not sure I wanted. Forgiving my father forced me to create a positive, and not merely a reactive, vision of my life. It also taught the valuable lesson that not all lost causes are irredeemably lost.

Hip-hop artist Tedashii grew up believing he was a good kid who never got into trouble. He received a scholarship to Baylor University, where he joined the football and track teams and excelled academically. "I’m living my dream," he recalled.

Halfway through his first semester, a student walked up to him. He said, ‘I heard the way you speak about girls, how you talk about your life. I heard the jokes you told and how you interact with other guys. And I gotta be honest, I think the Bible would call that sin.’ Tedashii yelled, shoving the student away. For the first time, someone told him he wasn't good, and it was God saying it.

Later, Tedashii attempted to break a weightlifting record but injured his back. Doctors warned that further injury could leave him paralyzed. He chose to prioritize his ability to walk over football. Two days later, the same student shared the gospel with him again, explaining that Jesus died for his sins and offered a relationship with God. He said that, even though Tedashii was an enemy of God, Jesus came to this world and lived the perfect life that he couldn’t live. He died innocently on the cross, dying the death that he should have died. Three days later, God raised his Son from the dead, proving that Jesus is God. He said, “God doesn’t want your good behavior, he wants a relationship.”

This message shook Tedashii. Later that week, he broke down in his dorm room, realizing he wasn't good in God's eyes. He cried out to God, believing the gospel for the first time. The student who shared the gospel with him became a close friend and encouraged him to include Christian messages in his rap lyrics. After Baylor, Tedashii signed with Reach Records and released four solo albums. The gospel's transformation of his life compelled him to share its message with others.

Majid was born in Tehran and was just eight years old when the Iranian Revolution erupted in 1979. Over the next eight years, the upheaval claimed the lives of eight of his brothers and sisters. His mother and one remaining sister survived but were imprisoned. “Everyone I loved died or was killed or taken to prison,” Majid writes. At 19, as his father succumbed to Alzheimer’s, Majid was consumed by anger and thoughts of revenge, blaming the Shah, Ayatollah Khomeini, and the revolutionaries for his family’s suffering.

Overwhelmed by grief and rage, Majid attempted to end his life by crashing his car in the hills outside Tehran. Miraculously unscathed, he stood at the edge of a valley and cried out, “Why did you take everything from me? … I cannot love all these people who killed my family. Can you kill them all?” In that moment, he experienced a vision: “I saw thousands of people praying for their enemies instead of fighting. From that moment, the hate inside me began to weaken. From that moment, ‘Somebody’ took me and helped me, though I was still very confused.”

In 2009, his surviving sister-who had endured torture and imprisonment before escaping to the United States-reached out to him, setting the stage for the next chapter in his journey.

During that time, Majid’s mother took him to an English class at a local church. Then one Sunday he went to the church service. He watched as the pastor and church members began to pray for the people of Iran. Majid thought, “The Iran that teaches ‘death to America’ and wants to kill your citizens and neighbors. And you pray for them? Thousands of people praying for their enemies, showing love instead of hate.”

Standing in the back of that church, he started crying. He finally understood that he could know God and know peace. He was baptized and began reading the Book of John and he thought, “this is my life on the page. I am the one lost sheep whom he went out to find.”

Kyle Zunker began suffering terrifying panic attacks in his late teens, which only worsened over time. By 2015, desperate for answers, he underwent an MRI while clinging to anxiety medication and hope. The scan was clear, leaving doctors puzzled and Kyle still searching for relief.

Seven years earlier, Kyle had left home for college. Though raised Christian, his faith was nominal and quickly unraveled. He writes, “I wanted to be the most successful and important person in the world. The more self-oriented my life became, the more I subscribed to intellectual arguments against the existence of God. By my early 20s, I was a staunch atheist.”

As he chased achievement, his health collapsed. His first panic attack at 19 left him desperate and overwhelmed. Anxiety became a constant presence, and he bounced from doctor to doctor, self-medicating to cope. He pinned his hope on passing the bar exam and proposing to his girlfriend, Hannah. When both dreams came true, he was shocked to find no peace: “If those hadn’t brought peace, then what could?”

Before their wedding, Kyle and Hannah often passed Pearl Street Church in San Antonio. Hoping to boost his respectability, he suggested they attend. Expecting to scoff, he was instead moved by a sermon on Genesis 22. Kyle recalls, “God’s instruction to Abraham was not a sadistic test; it prophetically foreshadowed the work of Jesus… God did not require Abraham to pay that price but chose instead to pay it himself.”

Over the next months, he read the New Testament and kept attending church, but anxiety persisted. One sleepless night, exhausted and broken, he finally prayed, “Thy will be done.” He writes, “Everything changed that night. The peace of God… changed my life. It gave me power over anxiety and fear, and my body began to heal as joy and hope replaced depression and despair.”

Seventeen-year-old Casey Crease’s life changed forever after a night of partying at his parents’ house. Frustrated with his friends, he left the party around 1 a.m., despite their attempts to stop him from driving drunk. Ignoring their warnings, Casey sped away in his Camaro, only to lose control and crash near his home.

Casey recalls waking up, “covered in glass, a deployed airbag lying in my lap.” In shock, he repeatedly screamed, “Who did I hit?!” until a friend assured him he’d only hit trees. But at the hospital, a state trooper delivered devastating news: “There’s been a fatality.” Casey’s friend John, trying to stop the car, had been struck and killed. “Before the accident, I thought my life was falling apart. After the accident, I wanted to die,” Casey writes. Yet, in his deepest despair, he sensed God’s presence.

Raised in a Christian family, Casey had begun to doubt his faith before the crash. Afterward, desperate for hope, he returned to church and resolved to read the New Testament. Still, he wrestled with guilt and wondered, “The more I tried to be a Christian, the emptier I felt.”

Everything changed during a revival service in his senior year. The preacher asked, “Do you want to be well?”-echoing Jesus’ words to the paralyzed man in Jerusalem. Casey remembers, “If Jesus will heal me, I want to be well… It was a quiet moment between the Lord and me but that day he began to soften my heart. He made me his own.” Over time, Casey realized his sins were forgiven, “not because of anything I had done but because of what Jesus accomplished on the cross.”

With newfound faith, Casey faced the consequences of his actions-including probation and community service-and began speaking to other teens about the dangers of drinking and driving. He concludes, “I am confident that Jesus is the Son of God, that he is able to forgive sins, and that he is in the business of making broken people brand new.”

When Yassir Eric was 16, he believed he knew exactly who his enemies were. One of them was a new boy at school named Zakariya—quiet, brilliant, gentle, and unmistakably Christian, with the fan-shaped scars on his forehead marking him as part of the Dinka people. For Yassir, raised in an elite Sudanese Muslim family steeped in jihadist zeal, that was enough to justify hatred. Every day at noon prayers, he asked God to destroy Zakariya.

Two years later, he and his friends ambushed the boy on a dark path. They beat him, stabbed him, and walked away assuming he was dead. Zakariya vanished from school, and the memory was buried under Yassir’s growing religious pride.
But life unraveled his certainties. His respected uncle unexpectedly became a Christian. His young cousin, near death, miraculously revived after the prayers of two Egyptian Coptic believers. Yassir secretly began reading a Bible, feeling the foundations of his world shift. When he eventually confessed his faith in Jesus, he lost everything—family, inheritance, even his name. He was arrested, beaten, and hunted, yet he rebuilt a new life far from Sudan.

Years later, now a Christian minister in Cairo, he finished preaching at a conference when a man approached him, walking slowly with a limp. His right eye was frozen from an old injury. His hand was twisted.

“Don’t you recognize me?” the man asked. “I’m Zakariya.” He opened his Bible. On the first page was a handwritten prayer list. At the top was Yassir’s name. “Because you hated me so deeply,” Zakariya said, “I always prayed for you.”
Sometimes the people we try hardest to erase are the very ones carrying our names—quietly, faithfully—before God.

Hector Vega’s journey to faith began in the most unlikely place: Rikers Island Prison. One night, correction officers rushed in. An inmate named Jose Vega had committed suicide. Due to a mix-up, prison staff mistakenly identified Hector as the deceased and notified his family. For several days, while the prison was on lockdown, Hector’s family believed he was dead.

Reflecting on this, Hector said, “There’s something powerfully symbolic in how I was ‘dead’ but not yet buried. Looking back on this moment in my life, I believe God was beginning to show me that although I was physically alive, I was spiritually lifeless.”

Raised in Hell’s Kitchen, New York, Hector struggled with feelings of inadequacy. To fit in, he began drinking at 11, then moved to marijuana, cocaine, and heroin. Multiple prison sentences followed. A turning point came through his girlfriend Michelle, who, frustrated by his addiction and aware he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, turned to God and prayed for his deliverance. She encouraged Hector to attend a Christian recovery program.

Hector recalls, “I also started feeling deep remorse and shame over the pain I had caused people in my family, especially my mom and dad. So, I started attending prison chapel services. From there I started reading the Word of God, and gradually it got a tight hold on my heart.” He clung to passages like Psalms 27 and 91, and Galatians 5:1–13, which speaks of freedom in Christ.

With the support of mentors, Hector surrendered his life to Christ. Since then, he has served as executive director of a homeless shelter and addiction-recovery program, and since 2009, as pastor of East Harlem Fellowship. Married to Michelle for 30 years, they have raised four children. Hector now travels globally, sharing, “When the world had labeled me an addict and a career criminal, his love and mercy overwhelmed me… I was made in his image and worthy of being presented as a trophy of his grace.”

"Perfectionism confers some magical superpowers like high standards, strong work ethic, reliability, and deep care of others. But gone awry it can subject us to a powerful riptide of I should do more, do better, be more, be better. We might look like we’re hitting it out of the park, but we feel like we’re striking out. For those of us who struggle with it, perfectionism is a misnomer: it’s not about striving to be perfect. Instead, it’s about never feeling good enough."

Preaching Angles:

• God’s Acceptance of Us: Romans 15:7; John 1:12; Eph 2:8-9
• No Condemnation: Romans 8:1
• God’s Love: Rom 5:8, 1 John 4:19
• God Singing Over Us: Zeph 3:17
• Forgiveness: Heb 8:12, 1 John 3:1

Today, “Les Misérables” — the story of Jean Valjean, a former convict, being relentlessly pursued by Javert, an unforgiving police officer — is an icon of musical theater. It has run for over 15,500 performances in London and is a staple of school theater programs in the United States. … It’s also been translated in 22 languages and staged in 53 countries.

The idea of turning Victor Hugo’s sweeping 1,400-page novel about poverty and social upheaval in 19th-century France into a musical was actually that of two Frenchmen — the composer Claude-Michel Schönberg and the lyricist Alain Boublil — who, inspired by British and American shows, created “Les Misérables” in 1980 and staged it in Paris.

So Caird, Nunn, Schönberg and Boublil, along with James Fenton, a poet, were soon reading Hugo’s tome and trying to work out a new structure, eventually deciding to open the musical with a scene in which Jean Valjean steals silver candlesticks from a bishop, only for the prelate to forgive him.

Suddenly, Caird said, the character’s motivations were clear: Valjean believed in the New Testament idea of forgiveness, while Javert, his pursuer, adhered to a sterner Old Testament form of justice.

“As a bunch of liberal humanists, we had tried to avoid every mention of religion,” Caird said, but “sewing God into the show was what animated the characters.”

As the clock strikes midnight on December 31, many people may share a kiss with their significant other, cheer, and use noisemakers to celebrate a new year. And sure, a kiss at midnight and making noise are some of the common new year traditions that are said to bring you luck, they certainly not the only ones.

Here are some of the most unique, and maybe even lesser known, New Year’s superstitions from various countries around the world that are thought to help bring good luck and ward off the bad for the new year.

Walk Around with an Empty Suitcase - In Spain and Latin American the custom is supposed to welcome new experiences and a year filled with traveling.

Throw Furniture from a Window - In some European cultures, you can find people throwing couches, fridges and more from their window when the clock strikes midnight. This symbolizes doing away with the old and welcoming in the new.

Leave Windows and Doors Open - Leaving your doors and windows open on New Year's Eve is said to let out the old year.

Break Dishes - In Denmark it is considered good luck and a sign of friendship to break dishes and plates on the homes of those closest to you.

Clean the House - Many people around the world believe in starting New Year's Day with a clean house in order to avoid carrying the old or dirt of last year into the new year.

Burn Photos - An Ecuadorian superstition calls for burning photos of old memories before midnight in order to make way for the new things to come.

Possible Preaching Angle:
While we don’t participate in worldly superstitions, these traditions can be an interesting way to remind believers that the Bible promises them a fresh start every morning with God (“new every morning” Lam. 3:22-23) and not just on New Year’s Day.

In her testimony for Christianity Today, Caresse Spencer recounts how she demolished her faith in pursuit of her "best life" during the pandemic.

In 2020, I typed two lethal words: F- God. With that, I resigned from Christianity. As the world fell apart due to the pandemic, my faith crumbled too. I stripped my vocabulary of the term God, soaked in the oppression of my past. Anger consumed me.

Caresse began questioning Christian teachings, especially around sexuality and biblical contradictions. Years of suppressing her desires left her feeling robbed and burdened by faith. Torn between the God she once served and her true self, she finally chose herself, embarking on what she called a “world tour”-exploring queer love, polyamory, sex, drugs, and even other religions. “I said yes to everything I had once denied myself and believed I had found freedom.”

Initially, the rebellion felt exhilarating: “There’s a rush that comes with rebellion and a thrill in doing things once feared.” But anxiety and emptiness crept in. She found herself “floating in a vast emptiness-lost and scared. Life had lost its meaning.” When rebellion no longer satisfied, she was left with “no God, no faith, no love, no peace.”

Suicidal thoughts became a constant presence. At her lowest, she cried out, “Help me!” and then a Christian friend called, asking if she was okay. For the first time, she admitted she was not. Her friend’s support pulled her back from the brink. Later, her sister gently asked, “Do you want to surrender?” Caresse accepted: “It was the invitation I’d been waiting for without even knowing it. I said yes-to surrendering my pride, confusion, rebellion, and emptiness. My life changed in an instant.”

Now, she talks to God about everything and has found peace. “God refused to let me die in disbelief. Because of this grace, I now understand that the only way to find true life is to lose it first.”

In a landmark moment in U.S. legal history, the family of Christopher Pelkey utilized artificial intelligence to create a video of him delivering a victim impact statement at the sentencing of his killer. Pelkey, a 37-year-old Army veteran, was fatally shot during a road rage incident in Chandler, Arizona, in November 2021. His sister, Stacey, collaborated with her husband and a friend to produce the AI-generated video, which featured Pelkey's likeness and voice, conveying messages of forgiveness and compassion.

The AI-generated Pelkey addressed his killer, Gabriel Paul Horcasitas, stating, “In another life, we probably could have been friends.” He expressed his belief in forgiveness, and in a God who forgives, saying, “I always have and I still do.” Wales wrote the script for the video, reflecting her brother's faith and forgiving nature. Judge Todd Lang, who presided over the case, was moved by the video and commented, “As angry as you are, as justifiably angry as the family is, I heard the forgiveness.” Horcasitas was sentenced to 10.5 years in prison for manslaughter.

In response, the Arizona Supreme Court has convened a steering committee focused on AI and its use in legal proceedings. Chief Justice Ann Timmer acknowledged the potential benefits of AI in the justice system. But she also cautioned against its misuse, stating, “AI can also hinder or even upend justice if inappropriately used.” Its mission includes developing guidelines and best practices to ensure the responsible use of AI, mitigating potential biases, and upholding the principles of fairness and justice.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The power of forgiveness, the importance of bearing witness to truth, and the ethical uses of technology are all integral aspects of living a Christ-centered life.

Your stainless-steel refrigerator is hard enough to keep smudge free but consider what it costs in time and materials to clean a stainless-steel truck.

Matt McClure began to worry about how to keep his new $100,000 Tesla Cybertruck clean before he even owned it. He spent hours researching the internet for tips on keeping the exterior clean.

One Reddit user exclaimed, “WD-40 is the way to go.” No, retorted another – glass cleaner is the safest option. Adhesive-remover Goo Gone has its proponents too, while others swear by Bar Keepers Friend.

Chris Leiter also weighed in. In daily use, he often worries about “the stainless-steel panel above the front bumper becoming a massive graveyard for bugs.” At one point guessed there were upward of 3,000 squashed bugs on the truck front. (Seeking a more accurate count, he later submitted a photo of the bug massacre to ChatGPT, which estimated about 4,600 deceased bugs.)

McClure then shelled out $500 for cleaning products and settled on a multistep process to wash and coat the truck. His step-by step process is as follows: Wash with car shampoo. Apply a stainless-steel rust remover. Clean with Bar Keepers Friend and Windex. Dry thoroughly. Wipe the vehicle down with isopropyl alcohol. Finish with ProtectaClear, a coating for metal that helps hide fingerprints.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Customers might keep a Cybertruck for a few years, but your soul is forever. There is a song that asks, “What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” Jesus paid an expensive price to make our souls as white as snow, but He did it out of love, for all time, and He offers it for free to all who will follow Him.

On the slope of a hill in Camp John Hay, you will find a rather unconventional attraction. Rather than tombs enclosing remains of dead humans, this cemetery is filled with cute tablets with inspiring inscriptions.

The Cemetery of Negativism was established by John Hightower in 1981. At that time he was the commanding general of Camp John Hay, about a 30-minute drive from Baguio City in the Philippines. The cemetery is a symbolic site for burying negativism—emotions, frustrations, attitudes, and thoughts that today we would call “bad vibes.”

At the entrance of the cemetery, a reminder reads, “Negativism is man’s greatest self-imposed infliction, his most limiting factor, his heaviest burden. No more, for here is buried the world’s negativism for all time. Those who rest here have died not in vain—but for you a stern reminder. As you leave this hill remember that the rest of your life. Be More Positive.”

Inscribed on one of the tombs is “Itz not possible. Conceived 11 Nov 1905. Still not Born.” Another tomb says “Why Dident I? Born???? Lived wondering why. Died for no reason.” There are dozens of different shapes and styles adorned with tiny sculptures of animals, flowers, and humans among others. The inscriptions are open to interpretations but the overall theme encourages visitors to open their minds, reflect, and leave the place in a better state than when they came in.

Camp John Hay is a popular tourist destination in Baguio City known for its tranquility, beautiful well-maintained park and gardens, luxurious mountain retreat, and shopping. The camp served as the summer refuge of the Americans from 1900 until 1991 when American bases were turned over to the Philippine government.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The weight of past mistakes can be a heavy burden to bear. Regret and negativity can consume us, leaving us feeling trapped in a cycle of self-blame and shame. However, the Bible offers a message of hope and redemption. Through faith in Jesus, we can experience a transformation of heart and mind. We are given the power to let go of the past and embrace a new life filled with hope and purpose. (Rom. 8:1; Psalm 103:12).

In an article for The Atlantic, David Graham wonders, “Who Still Buys Wite-Out, and Why?”:

Christmastime is when the pens in my house get their biggest workout of the year. I seldom write by hand anymore. But the end of the year brings out a slew of opportunities for penmanship: adding notes to holiday cards to old friends, addressing them, and then doing the same with thank-you notes after Christmas. And given how little I write in the other 11 months of the year, that means there are a lot of errors, which in turn spur a new connection with another old friend: Wite-Out.

The sticky, white correction fluid was designed to help workers correct errors they made on typewriters without having to retype documents from the start. But typewriters have disappeared from the modern office, relegated to attics and museums. But correction fluids are not only surviving—they appear to be thriving. It’s a mystery of the digital age.

But today, even printer sales are down, casualties of an era when more and more writing is executed on-screen and never printed or written out at all. Yet correction fluid remains remarkably resilient. As early as 2005, The New York Times pondered the product’s fate with trepidation. Yet somehow, more than (two decades) on, it has kept its ground. Who’s still buying these things? Even as paper sales dip, upmarket stationery is one subsegment that is expected to grow, thanks to a Millennial affection for personalized stationery.

For Millennials…the attraction to Wite-Out is the same as any other handmade or small-batch product: The physical act of covering up a mistake is imperfect but more satisfying than simply hitting backspace. There’s also a poignancy to a (messed up) generation gravitating toward Wite-Out.

You can’t erase the past any more than you can erase a printed typo or a written error—but you can paper it over and pretend it didn’t happen.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Isn’t it a relief to know that God doesn’t cover up our mistakes and sins and “pretend they didn’t happen.” At the cross He permanently and completely removed them from our record. “Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as snow” (Isa. 1:18); “He forgave us all our trespasses, having canceled the debt ascribed to us in the decrees that stood against us. He took it away, nailing it to the cross!” (Col. 2:13-14)

Saying farewell to yesterday might be a challenge for some, but not for the numerous New Yorkers who bid a traditional farewell to 2023 in Times Square ahead of the big New Year's Eve celebration. At the 17th annual Good Riddance Day Thursday, bad memories were burned – literally.

Good Riddance Day is inspired by a Latin American tradition in which New Year’s revelers stuffed dolls with objects representing bad memories before setting them on fire.

In Times Square, attendees wrote down their bad memories on pieces of paper. "COVID," "Cancer," “Our broken healthcare system,” “Spam calls and emails,” “Bad coffee,” and “Single Use Plastics,” were some of the entries.

Every December 28, this event gives people the opportunity to write down everything they want to leave in the past and destroy any unpleasant, unhappy, and unwanted memories – so that they can toss them into an incinerator and watch them vanish.

Possible Preaching Angle:

What painful experience, memory, or consequence caused by sin would you like to leave behind in the New Year? This is a reality for the believer “Because of the loving devotion of the LORD we are not consumed, for His mercies never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness!” (Lam 3:22-23). With Paul we can say “Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead” (Phil. 3:13).

On a June afternoon in 2018, a man named Mickey Barreto checked into the New Yorker Hotel. He was assigned Room 2565, a double-bed accommodation with a view of Midtown Manhattan almost entirely obscured by an exterior wall. For a one-night stay, he paid $200.57.

But he did not check out the next morning. Instead, he made the once-grand hotel his full-time residence for the next five years, without ever paying another cent.

In a city where every inch of real estate is picked over and priced out, and where affordable apartments are among the rarest of commodities, Mr. Barreto had perhaps the best housing deal in New York City history. Now, that deal could land him in prison.

The story of how Mr. Barreto, a California transplant with a taste for wild conspiracy theories and a sometimes tenuous grip on reality, gained and then lost the rights to Room 2565 might sound implausible. Just another tale from a man who claims without evidence to be the first cousin, 11 times removed, of Christopher Columbus’ oldest son. But it’s true.

In jail before he was released on his own recognizance, Mr. Barreto said he used his one phone call to dial the White House, leaving a message about his whereabouts. There was no reason to believe the White House had any interest in the case or any idea who Mickey Barreto was. But you could never quite tell with Mickey — he’d been right once before.

Whatever his far-fetched beliefs, Mr. Barreto, now 49, was right about one thing: an obscure New York City rent law that provided him with many a New Yorker’s dream.

Possible Preaching Angles:

(1) Satan; Temptation - Like a bad tenant who won’t leave an apartment, we allow sin to overstay it’s welcome in our lives; (2) Resentment or Anger—People in recovery often say, “Don’t let that person live rent free inside your head”—which means don’t hold on to your resentments over people who have hurt you. Let the hurt go.

Jennifer Nizza grew up on grew up on Long Island, New York, as part of an Italian and culturally Catholic family. For her, Christmas was mainly about Santa Claus, antipasto, and pretty lights on houses. However, her understanding of spirituality was limited to the supernatural realm, shaped by conversations about ghosts and early experiences with tarot cards.

At age 13, the door to demons was thrown wide open. a tarot card reading ignited a fascination with the occult. Jennifer delved deeper into this world, experiencing fear and discomfort as she felt the presence of demonic forces. Seeking answers, she consulted a psychic medium who claimed Jennifer was a medium herself, gifted with the ability to connect with the departed.

She writes, “But the further I went down that road, the more it seemed demons were surrounding me and I experienced so many moments of fear. I felt them touching me, and I could see them manifesting as shadowy figures and animals.

Jennifer loved the thought of helping clients attain the desires of their heart and communicate with their loved ones. But she lived in constant fear of bad spirits and what they would do to her. She said:

In my mid-30s, at a moment of especially intense fear, I suddenly cried out the name of Jesus Christ. Not my spirit guide or a deceased person or an angel—Jesus! Almost immediately I felt a peace that surpasses all understanding (Phil. 4:7). This began my journey to full Christian faith. And I had no idea what the gospel was. But I knew I didn’t want to be a psychic anymore.

Ten months later, a chance encounter with a friend who was attending a Bible-based church sparked Jennifer's curiosity. Despite initial hesitation, a few weeks later she felt a strong desire to visit the church. She shares:

I was singing along with the worship music when the lyrics “Jesus saved me” flashed on the screen, instantly transporting me back to the moment I had cried out to Jesus Christ. I started crying with joy, because I knew in my heart that he saved me.

Filled with joy and newfound conviction, I sought to understand the Bible's teachings on my profession. I didn’t have a Bible on hand, so I asked Google, “What does the Bible say about psychic mediums?” And I was shocked to find verses like Deuteronomy 18:9–13, which condemn anyone who “practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or . . . consults the dead.” Since Jesus had saved me, I would have to pick up my cross and follow him, even at the cost of quitting my job.

In the ten years since, Jesus has changed my heart and my life as only he can. I am no longer caught in the hamster wheel of endlessly seeking peace, joy, and fulfillment without finding them. Today, I continue to share the gospel whenever I can, in part by devoting myself to exposing the demonic darkness I served for many years and warning others against following the same path.

Editor’s Note: Today Jennifer Nizza is a speaker and Christian content creator. She is the author of From Psychic to Saved .

Life for a 19th-century sailor was hard: Months at sea were accompanied by constant danger and deprivation. To make matters worse, mariners saw the same few people all day, every day, in a radically confined space where they were expected to get along and look after one another. On a long voyage, one obnoxious person could make life utterly miserable for everyone.

So, sailors used a tried technique to deal with an offender: the silent treatment. They would ignore him completely for weeks on end. That might sound like an innocuous action to you, but in truth, it was far from it. According to author Otis Ferguson (1944), the silent treatment was “a process so effective in the monotony of ship’s life as to make strong men weep.”

Of course, the silent treatment is a technique used not only by sailors. It can be encountered anytime, anywhere, from home to work. You have almost certainly experienced some form of it. Long-married couples will go for days without speaking. A person will give their oldest friend the cold shoulder. A father who refused to speak with his daughter for 30 years.

Silent-treatment inflictors do it because, as the sailors discovered, it was devastatingly effective in imposing pain on the recipient. So much pain, in fact, that it can leave a person scarred and a relationship in ruins.

Given how destructive the silent treatment is, like physical abuse, it can wreck relationships. According to the Gottman Institute, which conducts research on the success and failure of marriages, the act of cutting off your partner by stonewalling can be a contributory factor to divorce.

Possible Preaching Angle:

You have probably inflicted the silent treatment on someone—two-thirds of us have done so. We use it for two main reasons: The most common one is to punish someone for something they said or did. The next most common is conflict avoidance; you might go silent to avoid a major blow-up. But this is not how God intends for his children to relate to others. God intends for us to humble ourselves, take the first step to reconciliation, and begin a conversation without defensiveness or blaming. “Don’t let the sun go down on your anger” (Eph. 4:26).

A woman in Ohio who threw a burrito bowl at a Chipotle worker and was convicted of assault has been sentenced to an unusual punishment that includes working in fast food for two months.

During a dinner rush and while a restaurant was short-staffed, Emily Russell, then the store manager, said she made and then remade an order for Rosemary Hayne. Ms. Hayne was not satisfied with the final product. In a video shared widely online, she can be seen yelling at Ms. Russell before hurling the burrito bowl at her face.

“I didn’t expect it at all,” Ms. Russell, 26, said. “I just blinked and there was sour cream dripping from my hair.” Eventually, someone called the police, Ms. Russell said. The judge offered her a chance to reduce her sentence, with a catch—60 of her 90 jail days would be suspended if she worked 20 hours a week for eight and a half weeks (or 60 days) at a fast-food restaurant. Ms. Hayne, 39, agreed to take the judge up on his offer, he said. She must complete her time as a fast-food worker by the time she reports to jail.

The sentencing came as a surprise to Ms. Russell. “I thought she was going to get a slap on the wrist, but she didn’t. She is going to get to walk in my shoes,” Ms. Russell said.

Possible Preaching Angle:

That’s one way to learn how to walk in someone else’s shoes, but as followers of Jesus we should always be quicker to extend compassion and forgiveness to others.