Love in the Courtroom of Heaven

A reflection on God’s justice, transparency, and redeeming love

Judgment is not God hunting for reasons to condemn—it's God revealing, before the universe, why salvation is just.

Many Christians hear the phrase “Investigative Judgment” and imagine a God searching for reasons to condemn. Scripture, however, presents a very different picture of divine judgment. The Bible consistently portrays God as just, transparent, patient, and relational. Judgment in Scripture is never arbitrary, never impulsive, and never disconnected from God’s saving purpose.

This does not mean that God lacks knowledge. Scripture is explicit that nothing is hidden from Him. “No creature is hidden from His sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:13). When Scripture describes God as seeing, coming down, or opening books, it is not describing divine uncertainty. It is revealing how God governs morally, relationally, and publicly.

The Prayer of an Unknown Confederate Soldier

A meditation on unanswered prayers, and the blessings they became

Sometimes the greatest answers come disguised as silence—or as surrender.

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health, that I might do greater things.
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.

I asked for riches, that I might be happy.
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life.
I was give life, that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for—but got everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am, among all people, most richly blessed.

The Spirit of Babylon Still Lives

A reflection on Revelation 14:1–12

In every age, Babylon builds new towers—but the Lamb is calling us out.

As I read Revelation 14:1–12, I can’t help but pause—captivated not only by the vision of the 144,000 standing with the Lamb on Mount Zion, but by the haunting echo of Babylon that lingers behind it. Babylon has always fascinated me. From the tower of Babel in Genesis 11, where humanity dared to “make a name” for itself, to the empire that rose in defiance against God and conquered His people, Babylon has stood as a timeless symbol of human pride and self-exaltation.

Though the ancient city was destroyed long ago by Medo-Persia, its spirit never really died. Babylon lives on—not in brick and stone, but in ideology. It is a spiritual kingdom that continues to seduce the world with the same lie that once filled Nimrod’s city: you can be like God.

The second angel’s message—“Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great”—is not merely a warning of destruction. It’s a wake-up call. A plea to recognize the Babylon that still surrounds us—and perhaps, still resides within us.

When Truth Becomes Too Loud to Silence

A reflection on Acts 4:18–20

When truth grips the heart, silence can no longer contain it.

“Then they called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. But Peter and John replied, ‘Which is right in God’s eyes: to listen to you, or to Him? You be the judges! As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.’” — Acts 4:18–20

They tried to silence them. The same city that once shouted “Hosanna!” had shouted “Crucify Him!” not long before. Now, that same city whispered another word—“Hush.”

But Peter and John couldn’t hush. They had seen too much. Heard too much. Been changed too deeply.

When truth burns that close to your heart, silence feels like betrayal.

When Forty Years Led Me Home

A testimony of grace after forty years of wandering

After forty years of wandering, Jesus turned a restless story into a homecoming of grace.

My name is Assdhy Lolowang, and I was born in a small town by the shore called Fakfak, Indonesia.

Growing up, I never truly knew what home meant. Every three years, my family moved — sometimes to a different neighborhood, sometimes to a different country. By the time I started to settle, pack-up time came again.

I never had what many people treasure: a childhood friend from the same street, the same school, the same church. My constants were my siblings, my parents, and a name that was spoken over me from the beginning: Jesus.

From Ai to AI

From Ai to AI: When Human Wisdom Forgets God

A reflection on Joshua 7–8 and the age of Artificial Intelligence

Joshua looking over the ruins of Ai under a dawn sky.

“Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.” — Zechariah 4:6

There is a story in the book of Joshua that few remember, but it speaks volumes to our generation. After the miraculous fall of Jericho, Israel faced a smaller city—Ai. Confident and proud, they thought, “We can take this one ourselves.” They didn’t pray. They didn’t ask. They simply went. And they lost.

It wasn’t Ai’s strength that defeated them. It was Israel’s pride. Hidden sin in one man’s tent had silenced the favor of God over an entire nation. A small city became unconquerable because the people forgot where their strength came from.

When human wisdom forgets divine guidance, even the smallest obstacle becomes impossible.

Today, our world faces another “Ai”—but this one is spelled with capital letters: AI. Artificial Intelligence. It promises progress, power, and perfection. Yet beneath its brilliance lies the same temptation Israel faced—the illusion that we can win our battles without God.

From Desert to Living Water — God’s Heart in Jeremiah 14

A reflection on spiritual drought and God’s weeping heart in Jeremiah 14

When the heart becomes a desert, God still longs to pour out living water.

Have you ever been to the desert of Nevada or Arizona? I used to live in Colorado. In the southwest corner of that beautiful state lies a place called Four Corners, where Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona meet. Not far from there is a breathtaking place called Great Sand Dunes National Park.

Colorado is stunning — mountain ranges stretch across the west, forests breathe with life, rivers carve through valleys. But when you reach the Great Sand Dunes, it feels like you’ve stepped into another world. It’s dry, arid, endless. Miles and miles of sand. No trees. No shade. The air feels still, heavy. Everything looks thirsty.

That was Judah in the days of Jeremiah. Not the land — the heart of the people.

Abide in His Love

A heartfelt reflection on trusting the Father’s watchful care and the Spirit’s life within

Even when we cannot see Him, our Father never takes His eyes off His children.

I’ve been learning a lot lately about what it means to abide in God’s love. It’s easy to talk about trusting Him when everything feels close and visible. However, I believe that real abiding happens when God seems distant—when life feels hard, when hope seems out of reach—yet you still choose to walk in His will, believing that He is near.

A couple of days ago, Atchi, Nanan, Rarah, and I were given a task by our beloved queen, my wife, to buy groceries from a big store. From a young age, Farah and I have tried to teach our children to listen. Listening, to us, is one of the simplest and hardest lessons in life. It’s the foundation of abiding, to trust what you’ve been told, even when you walk out of sight.

The aisles of this store stretched long and wide. I handed their shopping list to Nanan and Rarah, gave them their own cart, and told them where to meet me when they were done.