Adventist World Podcasts

We are not wise like magi,  Or powerful like Herod. And few can claim nobility  By birth or social climbing.  But God—this Child who sleeps in straw— Has chosen us to worship at His cradle.  So we rejoice in commonness;  We gladly play the fool for Him.  For we have glimpsed in Bethlehem The power that holds all things together— The love that seeks us out, surrounds us, will not let us go.  We stand in warm, strong light that cannot be extinguished; “For the light shines in the darkness, And the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). We revel in the victories grace has won, Is winning, And will win.  There is no doubt—nor can there be—about the final outcome. So come, now:  bend the knee. Lean forward with a glowing heart.  This is an hour for adoration.   And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

We trade our gifts on Christmas Eve, or Christmas morn, or some convenient holiday. We wait to see a grateful smile, or wide-eyed wonder on a child’s face—all quietly aware our turn is next: the next gift will be handed us. And though this pageant brings us joy, and warms our hearts, we dare not say it represents the gospel, even though it’s full of gifts. Our calculations typically are tuned to give of equal value. We won’t embarrass others with extravagance that they can’t match, nor do we like the debt we feel when we receive “too much.” But heaven gave extravagantly when heaven gave us Jesus. He came with nothing in His hands but everything—all riches—in His heart. His greatest joy is in our joy—and in our inability to trade Him anything in return. Grace is a gift we cannot earn, and don’t deserve, and can’t repay. We don’t make things “even” by obedience, or costly sums, or kindly deeds that lessen obligation. He who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills”—and all the hills—isn’t seeking reciprocity. Accep

“Away in a manger No crib for His bed . . .” It staggers imagination that the Lord of life, the Creator of all that is, found His first bed neither in a warmed obstetrics ward nor in a baby’s well-built crib. His reality was far more primitive than all the gilded mangers which adorn displays in churches or millions of homes this Christmas. The manger in which Jesus slept His first hour was almost certainly a shallow bowl carved into the rock floor of a cave or lean-to shelter—quite literally, a hole in the ground from which the livestock ate. It was the lowest of low places, the symbol of how low grace will stoop to live with us and be one of us. And you will recall that at the other end of His life, Jesus was—temporarily—laid in another hole in the ground—a tomb carved from the rock face of a cliff. There is a special symmetry in this, for grace seeks out “the lowly and despised things of this world” (1 Cor 1:28) to illustrate that no one is beneath the saving love of God. The worst, the lowest thing you’ve

The act of giving thanks—whispered at each common meal, or once a year at family dinners on big holidays—is an early, hopeful flag that grace has come to live with us. For a moment—for one long, exhaling moment—we acknowledge the truth of what the apostle wrote 2000 years ago:  “You are not your own:  you have been bought with a price”  (I Cor 6:19-20). For an instant, the guard is down, the drawbridge open, and we admit that we aren’t self-made or even self-sustained.  The castle of our lives has always had a Guardian, a Protector.  All that we are, and all we have, and every structure that secures us has been given, not deserved.  Even what we say we’ve “earned” is undeniably built on gifts too numerous to count. When I say “thanks,” I confess that there is something—Someone—wider, bigger, and more gracious than any defense I muster or every good I do.  So we learn grace through gratitude.  And even as we teach our children to “Say thank-you,” the Spirit prompts us each to murmur private “Hallelujahs.” Thro

In all those moments in between—when idling in slow traffic; or stuck in dull, unhappy meetings; or waiting for the sound of tires rolling up the drive—our thoughts revert to what we’ve missed.  Where would we rather be?  With whom would we prefer to talk? Why must our time be wasted? But the God of every moment—even dull, unhappy ones—offers us His presence and His care. “I have loved you, My people, with an everlasting love,” He says. (Jer 31:3). “Be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). The grace of God is still our gift when schedules lag and people disappoint and time hangs heavy on our hands. There is no hour Christ will not share; no hidden grief He cannot bear; no pause in all His patient care. Remember now how much you’re loved. And when you wait, then stay in grace.  

Thankfulness is all about our expectations. So long as we think we deserve to be healthy—physically, financially—and that a sick body or an empty wallet is an injustice done to us, we’ll never feel all that grateful when God heals us. If God owes it to us to make and keep us healthy and wealthy, why should we thank Him for it? But if we grasp the deep sacredness of living—that every moment is a gift from the Father’s hand—then everything in us will sing of everything God is doing for us. Every illness overcome; every bank account that didn’t run dry; every wounded relationship healed is a special act of grace. We deserved none of these good things: we’ve been given all these good things. “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise” (Ps 51:5). So stay in gratitude—and grace. -Bill Knott

Describe the life you’ve always wanted in three simple nouns—no more. Love, Power, and Excitement. Wealth, Opportunity, and Fame. Friends, Risk, and Excellence. Now try three more—all rooted in a common gift: Grace, Gratitude, and Graciousness. Grace is how we came to be—and saves us from what we have become. “God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure.So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son.  He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins.” (Eph 1:5-8). And gratitude is an intelligent, mature response to all that that God has gifted us in Jesus. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God” (Col 3:16). Graciousness is how we live as loved and honore

Fear grips our hearts whenever we assume that all our happiness depends on us. We know our brokenness too well: the foolish choices; missed opportunities; the coldness and the distance caused by hot, close things we’ve said. Unless we’re truly loved in spite of all we’ve done, fear is the natural response to what seems painful randomness. But grace proclaims a holiday from fear—not for an hour or a day, but for as long as we allow ourselves to be surrounded—yes, and held—by never-ending love. Grace is God’s reassuring answer to the question mark of fear. “I have loved you with an everlasting love,” He says. “I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer 31:2-3). Believe His love. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

Those who most object to grace are those who think they need it least—who blithely trust that Jesus has a “higher” way of saving them. No deep repentance, wet with tears, will stain their history: they imagine righteousness will be an earned diploma on some future graduation day. But there’s only one way to the kingdom, and it passes through the gate of grace. No prior goodness lets us enter by some grander, private entrance; no record of abstaining lets us walk apart from those who’ve wallowed in the mud. The gate is narrow to exclude all largely self-congratulating selves: we’re either saved by Jesus’ blood, or we’re not saved at all.  So join the line where all must meet: walk hand in hand with all in need.  And stay in grace. 

Ask the average person what they need most, and you’ll get a list you’d write yourself: a long vacation; a good night’s sleep; more money on the job; a guide for raising teens. But rumbling deep beneath the early answers, there is one that resonates for all of us: “Peace with God.” Even when we’re fed and rested; even when the raise comes through; even when the teens are sweet, we feel the ache of being distant from the Father. The residue of poor decisions, selfishness, and bitter words gnaws at our consciences. And there’s no beach or paycheck that can take that restlessness away. Jesus offers us the quiet hearts we’ll never find by searching: “I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart” (Eze 36:26). The promise of new life is always there—beneath our brokenness; above our fear; beyond our finest efforts. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says. “Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more

On every day, in every way, God knows what we’ve been doing. The Father sees each burst of pride, each run of lust, each carelessness that injures others. “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight” (Heb 4:13). But seeing all does not mean loving less, for love begins with honesty. We want to hide from all we’ve done, and fall for the lie that God no longer loves us. But grace reminds us of the Father’s remedy for shame: “If we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1 John 1:9). “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:17). Grace is the place where we are fully known and fully loved. We need not hide, except in Him: “Your real life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col 3:3). “Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (Rom 5:20). Be seen. Be known. Be held. Be loved. And stay in grace.

When we’ve tried every other way, we give ourselves—with sighs—to grace. We miss its beauty and its joy because we save it as our last resort, a life ring for the drowning. We strive as though the goal was to use as little of God’s grace as possible, like salt on vegetables, or gas when heating homes. But Jesus wants our joy “full-filled”: abundance is the sign of grace. The life that could be yours can now be yours—without delay, without the misery and thrashing. God saves the desperate, but not because He needs us to be drowning. Enjoy His joy—beginning now—and lasting till forever. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

Exert. Perform. Achieve. Repeat. Exert. Perform. Achieve. Repeat The drumbeat of our days resounds until our souls are never still. We vibrate with intensity at moments when we most crave rest. We work in dreams: we nap at work. But He who gave to humans work sighs in the heavens for how we have abused ourselves: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work” (Exo 20:9). In every week, the Lord who calls the Sabbath His invites us to return to peace: “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). Our hearts cry out for healing and for wholeness. And Jesus, who created us for joy, reminds us of our destiny: “I came that they may have life, and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). The endless stress of all we do is ended by one day of grace. There is a Sabbath in your future. Find the joy. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

Unlike a hundred self-help apps, or misty-morning videos that urge us to find answers from within, grace offers us the real-world truth about ourselves while maximizing our potential joy. Grace announces the bad news about us and everyone we know up front: “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (Rom 3:23). But brokenness and loss is not the last word about us: “God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). A power from outside of us is the only one that can quiet our distracted minds, restore our faith in the future, and set us on the road to rich, fulfilling lives—for now and forever: “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). And here’s God’s vision of what our relationships can grow to be: “The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness

If grace were just for me, and not God’s gift to all in need, I might rejoice in my solo salvation and never be a different soul. But “the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all” (Titus 2:11)—for every individual, yes—but also for the whole of us as Jesus’ faithful way to live with and forgive each other. Grace truly known always grows into graciousness: the living shows we’re starting to perceive how great the gift is. When I extend the grace of God, I take it deeper in my life. When I forgive, I learn how much there is in me that needs the Lord’s forgiveness. Grace grows on us, and grows in us, and grows through us. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

We make our lists of opposites: love and hate; trust and fear; carnivores and vegans. And sometimes we assume that the truth God knows about us is at odds with how He saves us, as if the Father must close one eye—or both—in order to embrace us. How can He keep the ones who break His law? So here it is—the good news in one line: “For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ” (2 Cor 5:21). The Father sees our hate and fear, and weeps when we devour each other. He knows the awful truth. But when we trust in Jesus, He looks only at the love and goodness of the One who never sinned. “So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:1). In grace, God is both just and merciful. Jesus took our penalty: we get His reward. “We have seen His glory, the glory as of a Father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). So stay in grace—and truth. -Bill Knott

A friend you haven’t seen in weeks stops you on the street. “You’ve lost weight,” she says. “You’re looking good.” A workmate smiles when you return from two weeks on the beach. “You’re looking rested,” he observes. “The sun and waves do wonders for you.” And even when the warmth of compliments has faded, we realize that much of what is changing in us is imperceptible to us. We often measure our success by big, important milestones—projects accomplished; degrees earned; structures built; 10K races run. But what is truly changing for the better in us often shifts in micro-movements we don’t notice every day. Grace is at work in us even when we’re unaware. “And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like Him as we are changed into His glorious image” (2 Cor 3:18). As we discover how much we’ve been forgiven, we find that we, too, can forgive. Because we speak with open-heartedness to God, we learn to speak to others with more kindness, deeper warmth—making room for those still learning grace.

There is no grudging in God’s grace—no “Alright, this one time” or “Even though you don’t deserve it.” He never makes forgiveness hang on promises to not sin again. “He knows our frame,” the Scriptures say: “He remembers we are dust.” And all our promises—like those who made them—are dusty, broken, unreliable. God forgives as only a Father can—more eager to restore the relationship than recall the rebellion; more focused on what we may become than what we did to wound Him. Grace flows to us because God’s heart is always love—unstoppable, without a limit. If you could quantify such love, then you, dear friend, would be much greater than He is—and that is rank absurdity. Receive this love. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

On our best days, we fall far short of our inspiring goals. We say the angry words, repeat the wicked gossip, upset the ones we’re pledged to love. And were it not for grace, our story is an endlessly repeating tale of good intentions and bad performances. But grace upends what keeps us mired in our sins, for grace proclaims release from guilt, redemption from our foolishness. We get a new and wonderful reset each time we come to Jesus. The slate is cleaned; the record washed; the sins removed as far as east can ever be from west. This is the genius of the gospel: We need not stay what we once were. We need not be what we are now. Grace pulls us toward the joy for which we were created, and puts the hope back in our story. So move toward joy. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

When grace has lived a while in us, we wake one day to learn how much we’ve changed, how everything is different. We speak new kindness to the ones who mock us, or who irritate our peace. We listen well to those who never seemed worth hearing. We find our hearts have been enlarged, with room for those we feared or scorned. This is the sign of Jesus living in us, and yes, we never saw it coming. Christ changes every heart He owns, replacing stoniness with love. We get the double blessing of eternity and now—of seeing life renewed in us and all with whom we’re planted. His seed that grows in secret still does yield the sweetest fruit. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott