Sam Stone

CLEAR: Preparing to Receive vs. Preparing to Achieve

I have to confess—December overwhelms me. Not because I dislike the season, but because I'm wired to prepare to achieve. My instinct is to make things happen. But Advent is about preparing to receive? That requires a completely different posture.
This reminds me of an ancient story about a village that received extraordinary news.
Word arrived that the beloved king would travel through their village. The elder gathered everyone and delivered simple instructions: "Clear the path for his arrival. Make the way straight and safe."
The villagers were thrilled—finally, a chance to impress the king with their preparations. The blacksmith constructed an elaborate archway. The weavers hung banners from every tree. The carpenter built viewing platforms. Day after day, the preparations grew more elaborate until the simple dirt road became a cluttered corridor of decorations and structures.
When the king's advance guard arrived to secure the route, they stopped in dismay. The captain called for the elder. "We cannot allow the king to travel this path."
"But we've prepared for weeks!" the elder protested.
The captain shook his head. "Look, every decoration you've added creates an ambush point, making the king's passage dangerous. He asked you to clear the path—not fill it."
The villagers learned a painful truth: there is a profound difference between preparing to impress and preparing to receive. One fills the path with our achievements. The other clears the path for another's arrival.
This captures something we desperately need to hear during Advent. We fill our December with achievements meant to celebrate the season, only to find ourselves too cluttered and exhausted to receive the One who comes.
But in today's scripture, John the Baptist shows us a completely different way to prepare. He doesn't decorate the path—he clears it. And in doing so, he reveals that the most profound preparation isn't about what we add, but what we remove.
The scripture lesson for today is from Matthew 3:1-12.
[Listen to the word of the Lord!]

SHREWD – When Faith Meets Financial Reality

When I finished high school, I told my parents and grandparents (since I was raised by them) that I wanted to go to seminary to become a minister.
My grandparents were businesspeople and faithful Christians, but they rejected my calling immediately and give me this business equation, "If you become a minister, you will be only one poor minister," they said. "But if you take care of the family business, you will be able to support ten or more ministers. Do you want to become one minister or produce ten ministers?"
Their calculation was shrewd, strategic, and arguably more impactful. They saw ministry through the lens of multiplication—one successful business could fund ten ministries. Yet something in my young heart convinced it was wrong. I insisted on becoming that one minister.
For years, I wondered if I had been foolish. Had I limited God's work by refusing to think shrewdly about multiplication?
Now, decades later, I see what neither my parents nor I could see then. Through ministry and teaching leadership spirituality, I've likely influenced far more than ten ministers. The path of obedience carved channels that strategic planning might never have imagined.
My parents understood shrewdness. My young heart understood calling. What I didn't know then was that I would need both—that faithfulness and shrewdness aren't opposites but partners in Kingdom work. That’s why Jesus said,
“I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.” (Mt 10:16 NIV).
You can’t be a sitting lamb among the wolves. In this week’s scripture lesson, Jesus shows a little disappointment with the children of light for being not as shrewd as the children of this world.
This captures a felt need that tears at many souls today—the exhausting tension between wanting to be spiritually authentic and needing to be financially responsible.
We wonder if being shrewd with resources means we're being unfaithful to God, or if being generous means we're being irresponsible to our families.
But here's what Jesus reveals in today's passage: this isn't an either/or choice. Shrewdness isn't the opposite of faithfulness—it can be its vehicle. The question isn't whether to engage with financial reality, but how to wield that engagement for eternal purposes.
Let’s look at how Jesus teaches us this strategic navigation of life through today’s passage.
The scripture lesson for today is from the Gospel According to Luke 16:1-13.
[Listen to the word of the Lord!]

LOST – When Life's GPS Keeps Recalculating
Luke 15:1-10
I get frustrated when my GPS keeps recalculating. There's something deeply unsettling about that automated voice constantly announcing "recalculating" just when I thought I knew where I was going. It can be applied to life. I used to think that by this stage of life, I'd have a clear route mapped out, but instead, I find myself on more detours than ever before.
This reminds me of an ancient story about a merchant who prided himself on always knowing the way.
This merchant had traveled the same trade route for twenty years. He knew every rock, every tree, every bend in the path.
One morning, he set out with a caravan of younger merchants who wanted to learn from his navigation expertise. But overnight, a tremendous storm passed through the region. When they reached what should have been a familiar valley, the merchant stopped in confusion. The storm had altered the landscape. The landmarks had shifted or disappeared entirely.
The merchant tried to maintain his composure, choosing path after path, each time declaring, "This is the way." But each chosen route led to dead ends or circled back to where they started. By afternoon, the younger merchants realized what the veteran refused to admit: they were completely lost.
As the sun began to set, panic crept into the merchant's voice. His reputation, his identity, his very sense of self was tied to knowing the way.
Finally, a young girl from a nearby village appeared on a ridge above them. "Are you lost?" she called down.
The merchant's pride flared. "We're not lost. We're just recalculating our route."
The girl laughed gently. "The storm changed everything. Your old paths are gone. But if you stop trying and follow me, I can lead you to where you need to be."
The younger merchants immediately began following the girl, but the veteran merchant hesitated. To follow meant admitting he was lost. To follow meant his decades of experience couldn't save him. To follow meant trusting someone else's knowledge over his own.
With trembling steps, he finally followed. The girl led them through passages he'd never seen, using stars he'd never noticed, to a village he didn't know existed—where warm food and shelter awaited all storm-displaced travelers.
"How did you know we were lost?" the merchant asked the girl.
She smiled. "After every storm, my grandma sends me to search. She says the ones who need finding most are those who don't know they're lost. You weren't lost because you didn't know the old way—you were lost because the old way no longer existed. Being found isn't failure. It's wisdom."
This story captures a deep truth about our current moment. We're not just dealing with occasional recalculations—we're living in a permanent storm season where the landscape constantly shifts beneath our feet.
For example, AI has changed everything. Career paths that existed five years ago have vanished and more will vanish soon. The very assumptions we built our lives upon keep requiring updates. We're exhausted not from the journey, but from the constant recalculating.
But here's the profound comfort hidden in today's scripture: while we're frantically recalculating, trying to find our way, God has already sent out a search party. We're actively being sought by One who knows exactly where we are and exactly how to bring us home. Let’s see how Jesus reveals to us this truth.
The scripture lesson for today is from the Gospel of Luke 15:1-10.

The Courage to Disappoint: When Your Calling Won't Share the Throne (Luke 14:25-33)
I used to believe that spiritual maturity meant keeping everyone happy—that if I just worked hard enough, prayed sincerely enough, and organized efficiently enough, I could fulfill every expectation without disappointing anyone. I admired those rare individuals who seemed to glide through life meeting every obligation with grace, never having to utter those uncomfortable words: "I'm sorry, but I can't."
This reminds me of an ancient story about a potter who created the most beautiful vessels in all the land.
The potter's work was so extraordinary that people traveled from distant villages just to own one of his creations. His secret wasn't just skill—it was complete devotion. While other potters worked only during market hours, he would often be found at his wheel by moonlight, lost in the dance between clay and creation.
One day, a wealthy merchant arrived with an irresistible offer: "Become my personal potter. I'll pay you ten times what you make now. You'll create exclusively for my household—the finest bowls for my table, decorative pieces for my halls. You'll have security for life."
The potter thought of his aging parents who needed care, his children who deserved education. The offer was generous, honorable, even wise by any measure.
That same afternoon, a temple priest approached: "We need someone to craft sacred vessels for our ceremonies. The pay is modest, but think of the honor—your hands serving the divine! Surely this is your true calling."
Before sunset, the village elder also came: "Our community needs you. Create simple bowls for the poor, water vessels for the sick. We cannot pay much, but you'll have the gratitude of everyone you serve."
The potter spent sleepless nights trying to devise a way to please them all. Perhaps he could work for the merchant by day, the temple by evening, the village by weekend. He drew up schedules, made calculations, imagined himself meeting every worthy demand.
But one morning, exhausted from planning, he sat at his wheel and let his hands touch the clay. In that moment, he remembered why he became a potter—not for security, not for honor, not even for service, but for this: the sacred moment when formless earth becomes a vessel of possibility. This was his calling, and it demanded everything.
He disappointed the merchant, who called him foolish.
He disappointed the priest, who called him selfish.
He disappointed the elder, who called him heartless.
But his vessels—oh, his vessels began to carry something beyond function or beauty. They carried the integrity of undivided devotion. And paradoxically, though he served no one master, his work ended up blessing merchant, temple, and village alike, because he had the courage to let his calling claim the throne of his life.
This story captures a felt need that haunts so many of us—the exhausting impossibility of trying to be everything to everyone. We live in a world that treats our time, energy, and attention as public property, where saying no feels like moral failure, where boundaries are seen as selfishness. We're drowning in competing claims on our lives, each one legitimate, each one urgent, each one accompanied by someone who will be disappointed if we don't deliver.
But here's the revolutionary truth: your calling—that deep, Providence-ordained purpose that makes you come alive—won't negotiate for partial allegiance. It demands the throne, and everything else, no matter how good or noble, must bow before it. In today's scripture lesson, Jesus doesn't soften this reality. Instead, he confronts us with the shocking arithmetic of authentic discipleship, showing us that the path to true life requires the courage to disappoint even those we love most. Let’s find out how Jesus teaches us on this important topic.

The purpose of prayer, according to Jesus, is not what most people think. Let’s discover why you may be praying the wrong way. Enjoy the message for the week: “ASK: When Life Feels Like Unanswered Prayers!”

How Jesus Speaks to Us Today and How to Hear Him
John 16:12-15
Let me start with a familiar story; I'm sure you've heard it before. It is both lighthearted and profound.
A man lived in a flood-prone area, and when the rains came, the waters began rising rapidly around his house. As the water reached his porch, he climbed onto his roof and prayed earnestly, "God, please save me! I have faith that you will rescue me!"
Soon, a neighbor came by in a rowboat and shouted, "Jump in! I'll take you to safety!" But the man waved him off, calling back, "No thanks! I'm waiting for God to save me. I have faith!"
The water kept rising. A little later, an emergency rescue boat arrived, and the crew called out, "Sir, we're here to help! Climb aboard!" Again, the man refused: "I appreciate it, but God is going to save me! I'm trusting in him!"
As the water reached the roof line, a helicopter appeared overhead and dropped a rescue ladder. The pilot's voice boomed through a megaphone: "This is your last chance! Grab the ladder!" But the man waved them away, shouting back, "God will provide! I have complete faith!"
Tragically, the man drowned. When he reached heaven, he approached God with confusion and disappointment. "Lord," he said, "I had such faith in you! Why didn't you save me?"
God looked at him with compassion and replied, "My dear son, I sent you a rowboat, a rescue boat, and a helicopter. What more did you expect?" (End of the story.)
How often do we find ourselves like this man? We pray for God to speak to us, to guide us, and to show us His will – yet we miss His voice because we're expecting something different from how He communicates.
Perhaps it’s because we often discuss how to pray rather than how to listen. Our communication with God has become a one-way ticket—we speak to God without knowing how to hear God’s voice. To have a healthy relationship, we must learn to listen.
Last week, we discussed Philip's request to Jesus to show the heavenly Father to him and his fellow disciples, and that they would be satisfied. Jesus said, after all these years of being with him, why they still had not recognized that Jesus and the Father are one. Jesus is the answer to human desire to see and know God, but they still expect God to show up differently, just like the man on the rooftop.
Now, we live in the time of the Holy Spirit. Instead of appreciating the presence of the Holy Spirit, some might ask to see God or Jesus. God would say, I have given you the Holy Spirit, and you still ask me to show myself to you? The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one!
Not only is God with us today through the Holy Spirit, but Jesus also says He speaks to us through the Holy Spirit today. Let’s develop the ability to hear Jesus’ voice so that we don’t stand on the rooftop wondering why Jesus doesn’t talk to us. Let’s begin!

Love is not authentic but transformative!
John 13:31-35
Here’s one of my favorite childhood fables:
A farmer went to town to sell his produce and returned with a large chest of treasures. His family and relatives gathered around him to hear the story of his windfall of fortune. He said, “As I walked through the forest on my way home, I heard someone groaning in a cave. I entered the cave and saw a dying tiger with a massive infected wound on its arm.
“I was about to run away in fear and disgust, but the tiger looked paralyzed. So I reached for my first aid kit to bind its wound and gave it water. Since it was getting dark, I stayed in the cave overnight. The next day, when I woke up, I found it completely recovered, and it thanked me with this chest of treasures.”
Feeling envious, the sister-in-law inquired about the cave’s location and asked her husband to find the place and try his luck. The next day, he went and found the cave. Surprisingly, he heard a tiger groaning inside, so he went in and saw the wounded tiger just like his brother had told them.
Smelling the infected wound, he thought, “Yuck! My brother didn’t tell me that the tiger was so stinky.” He covered his nose and reluctantly bound the tiger’s wound because he wanted the reward. He slept in the cave, dreaming about returning home with a treasure chest bigger than his brother’s.
The next day, the tiger got better and ate him for breakfast. (End of the story).
It’s a wisdom story open to multiple layers of interpretation. On the surface, it teaches people that you cannot copy someone’s success by merely duplicating what they do. At a deeper level, it teaches that nature rewards transformational actions rather than transactional ones.
It’s natural for humans to fear tigers and for tigers to attack humans. It’s our fallen nature. If the elder brother were authentic, he would have stayed away from the tiger out of fear. However, his sympathy for the suffering animal made him rise above his authenticity. John said,
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” (1 Jn 4:18a).
We cannot naturally love our enemies because we authentically hate or fear them. When Jesus asked us to love our enemies, he asked us to rise above authenticity. When we do, we become transformative. However, we cannot intentionally use love to transform others because that’s fake. Perfect love has no motive.
Today's culture glorifies authenticity. In the name of expressing themselves, people gratify their authentic feelings. They can be rude and say, “I am just being authentic.” Paul said that we are supposed to tell the truth in love. Telling the truth is authentic, but without love, the truth hurts rather than heals.
Since we are fallen beings, our authenticity is also fallen. John Calvin called it “Total Depravity.” If I am authentic, I would rather eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Sophie is not home anyway!) If we are authentic, we cannot love the unlovable.
The way Jesus wants us to love is transformational and not transactional. It requires us to sacrifice our authenticity.
If Jesus were being authentic, he wouldn’t have gone to the cross. He expressed his authenticity to God the night of his arrest, saying:
“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.” (Mat 26:39).
His prayer is very honest and authentic; no human would go to the cross for that kind of suffering. It was a bitter cup that he would rather pass. Yet, he went to the cross to fulfill God’s will, not his own authenticity. Jesus went to the cross to please God by fulfilling God’s will to save us.
Jesus also taught us to pray, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Who would do God’s will on earth? Us, since we are on earth. That prayer is to ask God to give us the courage to take the higher road against our fallen nature.
Today, we will explore how to love beyond authenticity and become transformative. We will learn how to let perfect love cast out fear so that we can take the high road and make a difference. Let’s begin!

The Prodigal Disciples: Toppling the Tyranny of Urgency
Luke 19:28-40
I used to misinterpret the story that I’m about to tell you. It’s a well-known story about Zhuangzi, the great philosopher. I discovered that I was not the only one who misunderstood its profound meaning. In fact, many scholars interpret it the way I did. Here’s the story, and see what you get out of it.
Zhuangzi once encountered financial hardship. His family didn’t have enough food, so he called on a rich man and asked to borrow some rice.
The rich man smiled and said, “I’ll be getting some money soon from my rental properties, and when it arrives, I’ll lend you three hundred gold coins. Will that be okay?”
That’s a significant amount of money, equivalent to three million dollars. But Zhuangzi didn’t like that answer at all. He frowned and said, “Let me tell you a story.”
“Yesterday, as I was walking here, I heard a little voice calling me. I looked around and saw a fish flopping in a tiny puddle on the side of the road. I asked the fish, ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’
The fish gasped and said, ‘I’m from the huge eastern ocean, but now I’m stuck here! Can you please give me just a small cup of water so I can stay alive?’
I told the fish, ‘Sure! I’m planning to travel south soon to visit some kings. I’ll change the course of a huge river and send all the water you could ever need right to you. How does that sound?’
The fish glared at me and said, ‘Are you joking?! I don’t need a big river someday—I need water now! When you return, come find me at the dried fish market.’” (End of the story.)
Without context, I am sure you would interpret the way most people do. Zhuangzi urgently needed some food, but the rich man said he would give him three million dollars after he collected his rent. In response, Zhuangzi tells a fable to mock the rich man.
He said a fish was stuck in a puddle and asked Zhuangzi for a cup of water to fill the puddle. Zhuangzi said he would redirect an entire river to him later. The fish didn’t believe it would be alive until then.
Naturally, you would think the story teaches us to provide for urgent needs rather than promise something big in the future. However, if you know the context, it is about the tyranny of urgency. Our urgent needs can ensave us, making us shortsighted, focusing only on the immediate needs. We want God to help us now, and we don’t care about what God has in store for us in the future.
You might argue, “Duh! If I am dying of hunger, who cares about eternal life?” However, the story does not discount our urgent needs. It’s about how we become enslaved by urgency and lose the bigger picture. Many people are so preoccupied with their immediate needs that they don’t care about the offer of a holiday at the sea, as C.S. Lewis put it.
Urgency can rob us of happiness, joy, and blessedness. The truth is, after this bowl of rice, Zhuangzi would have to worry about the next meal. After this cup of water, the fish would cry for the next cup. They would forever be caught up in a cycle of urgency and never consider future possibilities.
Then, what’s more important than meeting dire needs? Understanding the tyranny of urgency will help us understand the joy of Paulm Sunday and learn a profound lesson of rejoicing in hardship.
I used to feel Palm Sunday was an oxymoron. It’s a day to celebrate victory, followed by a dark and dreary week of passion, suffering, and crucifixion. Why should anyone celebrate victory knowing what follows it? Palm Sunday is also known as Passion Sunday, but the scripture tells us about Jesus’s triumphant entry to Jerusalem. Where was the triumph if he were about to be crucified?
He was facing the most shameful death of a criminal. Whether we call it Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday, the truth is that Jesus entered Jerusalem like a victorious king, cheered by a crowd of disciples and followers. Why did Jesus do that?
Later, I discovered the profound meaning of Palm Sunday. Jesus wants us to rejoice even in dark times and never surrender to the tyranny of urgency. He doesn’t want us to obsess over a bowl of rice or a cup of water like Zhuangzi and the fish. The disciples knew Jesus was about to be killed. But Jesus didn’t want them to march into Jerusalem like a funeral procession.
So, Jesus prepared a donkey to make his entrance to Jerusalem celebratory, fulfilling the prophecy of Prophet Zachariah (Zac 9:9). Palm Sunday challenges our resilience against urgency. Can you rejoice in the hardship of life?
For example, this week, the entire world experienced hardship, shaken by the tariffs and trade wars. Anxiety was high worldwide. Many people glued their faces to the TV or cellphone, wondering what would come next. Others worried about their stocks, 401K, or IRA, seeing them take a nosedive.
However, through Palm Sunday, Jesus teaches us to turn every moment into joy, not foolishly or pretentiously, of course. Jesus taught us in his eighth Beatitude that we must rejoice despite hardship. Otherwise, hardship can make us shortsighted and fail to count our blessings. Jesus says,
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Mt 5:11–12).
Notice that he commands us to rejoice and be glad. Can you rejoice when you are being persecuted?
Jesus demonstrated this on Palm Sunday and taught his disciples to rejoice and be glad. Jesus wants us to be Prodigal Disciples, expressing extravagant love, joy, and peace. Bible teaches us to rejoice at every moment and every situation. Paul said,
“Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice.” (Php 4:4).
Paul wrote this in prison, wearing chains on his feet and waiting for ex*****on. Paul used to be an angry man, but Jesus turned him into a Prodigal Disciple. He was able to rejoice even in prison and taught others to rejoice always.
Two weeks ago, we talked about God as the Prodigal Father who showed his extravagant grace to humanity, not even sparing his only Son to die for us. Last week, I discussed the Prodigal Daughter, exemplified by Mary’s extravagant devotion to Jesus Christ.
In today’s scripture lesson, we discover Jesus expects us to become Prodigal Disciples, extravagantly expressing our love for Christ and people even in difficult times. Jesus teaches us to live by the non-anxious presence in this anxious world.
So, let’s learn how to become Prodigal Disciples exuding extravagant love, grace, and jubilance in this anxious and broken world. Let’s begin!

Think Deep, Aim High, Serve Bold in the Age of AI
Sam Stone, 5th Sunday After the Epiphany, Trinity, 2025-02-09
Luke 5:1-11
You know I have been playing with AI apps for a while and love it. I encourage everyone, young or old, to experiment with AI. It’s not that hard because you don’t need to know the science behind it. Treat them as tools or toys, and you will discover they are useful tools and fun toys.
Some experts say the advent of AI is as significant as the invention of electricity. It’s true because it permanently changes how we live, move, and have our being. Like it or not, it won’t go away. So, why not make good use of it?
I am sure you have heard in the news about the DeepSeek AI model that rocked the tech stock market. In short, competition benefits consumers like you and me because the application of AI is becoming significantly cheaper.
You might also have heard the concern about job losses due to AI. It depends on how you look at it. AI will surely replace many jobs but also create many new opportunities.
Let me start with an ancient parable on innovation:
Huizi told his friend Zhuangzi that the king bestowed upon him a seed of the legendary giant gourd, which he planted in his garden. Months passed, and the gourd grew to an astonishing size, weighing over a hundred pounds.
Huizi had a hard time making use of the giant gourd. “I tried to use it as a water bottle, but it was too heavy and big to carry. I cut it in half to make a dipper, but it was too wide to scoop into anything. Since it was too big to be useful, I smashed it into pieces and threw it away.”
Zhuangzi smiled and said, “You certainly are too stupid to use big things. The giant gourd held within it a world of possibilities, limited only by your imagination.” Then Zhuangzi told him a parable (that the parable wrapped within a parable):
In the enchanting era of the Song Dynasty, there lived a humble man whose livelihood revolved around washing silk by the river's edge. During winter, the icy water bit the hands, threatening to halt the family’s laundry business.
Fortunately, the family had concocted a magical balm, a potion that defied the bitter cold, protecting the hands and faces from the biting frost and the painful chap so their family income would not be cut off during winters.
One day, a visitor approached the family with a tantalizing offer. In exchange for the secret formula, he offered them a hundred pieces of gold, a sum they could not afford to pass up.
The family decided to take the generous offer and entrusted the secret formula to the visitor. The visitor took it to the capital city and offered it to the emperor for military use. The emperor commissioned him to lead a marine force against the southern invaders.
With the advantage of the secret formula, they emerged victorious in the cold winter marine warfare, driving back the invaders and securing the dynasty's future. Upon his triumphant return, the emperor bestowed upon him the prestigious title of a feudal lord.
Zhuangzi then said to his friend Huizi, “See, in the hands of the launderer, the secret balm is nothing more than a tool to make a living. But in the hands of a visionary man, this formula shaped the destiny of a nation.
“Your giant gourd is useless to you because your imagination is too narrow. You could have put that giant gourd in the lake and ridden on it as a magnificent boat. There are also many other creative ways you could use it for.” (End of the story.)
This parable warns us of the danger of thinking small. Let’s say the giant gourd is the AI of our time. For the short-sighted, AI represents a threat. For the visionary, AI represents immense opportunity. This story is not about belittling the small thinkers but spurring all of us to set our creative imagination free.
Today, we will look at how Jesus transformed a group of fishermen from merely making a living with their skills to transforming the world by teaching them to think deep, aim high, and serve bold, building God’s eternal kingdom instead of just feeding a small family.
What Jesus taught in today’s scripture lesson is applicable to our AI revolution as it was during the dawn of the new era. If you learn this, nothing in this world can burden you with anxiety, worries, and fear. Instead, you will maintain faith, hope, and love. Let’s begin!