KyKingdomKum

I grew up in the church, so I understand the desire to be blessed. I want my life to look like it. I want it to feel like it. I want the fruit, the peace, the stability, the joy— all of it . That desire isn’t wrong. What was missing for a long time was clarity about what the blessing is actually for —and even more importantly, who the reward really is . The Apostle Paul says something that still feels shocking if we slow down long enough to hear it. In Philippians 3:8 , he says he counts everything as loss— as dung —compared to the surpassing value of knowing Christ . Not serving Him. Not being used by Him. Not receiving things from Him. Knowing Him . Jesus says something just as disruptive when He defines eternal life. Eternal life, He says, is knowing the only true God and Jesus Christ whom He sent ( Gospel of John 17:3 ). Not going somewhere when we die. Not achieving spiritual status. Knowing God . That reframes everything. A lot of us—especially those raised in church—were taug...

One of the things that becomes unmistakably clear as Scripture unfolds is this: God has always been the One who provides. Before sin entered the world—before striving, before commands, before failure—God blessed humanity by saying, “See, I have given you everything.” Provision came first. Identity came first. Blessing came first. The command not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil came after blessing, not before it. Life was not conditional. Relationship was not earned. God gave freely because giving is who He is. Peter later describes this same reality when he writes that God has given us “everything that pertains to life and godliness.” Not some things. Not potential. Everything. This means provision is not just material—it is spiritual, relational, functional, and purposeful. Provision Before Performance Throughout Scripture, God consistently reveals Himself as the One who acts first. In the garden, everything was provided before Adam lifted a finger. In the Pr...

The story we call the Prodigal Son is often read from the wrong angle. The son may wander, fail, and return—but he isn’t the prodigal. The Father is . Prodigal doesn’t mean sinful. It means extravagant, excessive, wastefully generous . And that’s exactly what we see. This parable isn’t ultimately about how far the son fell. It’s about how far the Father was willing to go. Returning with the wrong conclusion—but the right direction When the son finally comes to himself, he decides to go home. But he doesn’t return whole. He returns rehearsed: “I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” That confession is honest—but it reveals something broken. He believed something true about the character of the Father , even while misunderstanding his own identity . That’s where many of us live. We believe God is kind. We believe God is merciful. But we assume closeness must now be earned through usefulness. So we return—but smaller. The Father interr...