A Confession of Faith
On the Christian Life: Abiding, Beatitudes, and Coram Deo
The Christian life is not primarily about moral achievement or spiritual success or cultural influence. It is about remaining connected to Jesus Christ. The summary statement is His:
"I am the vine; you are the branches. The one who remains in me – and I in him – bears much fruit, because apart from me you can accomplish nothing." — John 15:5 (NET)
Abiding means staying connected. It is maintained through prayer, through the reading and meditation on Scripture, through the breaking of bread, through the community of believers, and through the simple discipline of returning to Christ when you have drifted. Abiding is not a technique. It is the sustained, humble refusal to disconnect. The branch does not produce fruit through effort. It produces fruit by remaining. Everything else — obedience, joy, answered prayer, spiritual fruit — flows from that one reality.
And the vine does more than nourish. It also prunes:
"He takes away every branch that does not bear fruit in me. He prunes every branch that bears fruit so that it will bear more fruit." — John 15:2 (NET)
The branch being pruned is the fruitful one — the branch the Father has already invested in, already called His own. The pruning is not rejection. It is preparation. But it does not feel like preparation in the middle of it.
There are seasons in the Christian life that feel like abandonment. The prayer unanswered. The grief that does not lift. The faithfulness exercised through years without the felt warmth of God's presence. David wrote from that place. Jeremiah wrote from that place. The author of Psalm 88 ended without a resolution — the psalm closes in darkness, without a dawn, and is nonetheless in the canon. That is not the failure of faith. It is the most honest speech the psalms contain: addressed to God, spoken from the dark, refusing the comfort of easy answers and the silence of despair simultaneously.
Before the cross, Jesus prayed in Gethsemane with sweat like drops of blood on his face and his disciples sleeping behind him. Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me. And the cup did not pass. Love at its fullest does not mean love without cost. It means love that bears the cost and does not retreat from it. The One who calls you to remain is the One who remained — all the way to the end of the road. That is the love into which you are being formed.
The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3–12) describe the shape of the person who is abiding in Christ. Read in sequence, they form a ladder of spiritual growth that cycles deeper throughout the disciple's entire life. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. This is the entry posture and the constant posture. No disciple graduates from poverty of spirit. He deepens in it. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. The recognition of spiritual bankruptcy produces grief over sin, grief over the brokenness of the world, and the comfort of God in the midst of that grief. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Meekness is power surrendered, the refusal to seize, the confidence that God will vindicate His righteous. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Following the grief of mourning comes the appetite for what is right. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. The disciple who has been shown mercy overflows with mercy toward others. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. The singleness of purpose that comes from devotion to Christ becomes the condition of knowing God's presence. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God. The one who is at peace with God becomes the instrument through which peace is offered to others. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. The life lived in obedience to Christ will produce opposition from the world, and that opposition is the mark of authentic discipleship.
We believe life is lived coram Deo — before the face of God. This is not merely a theological statement. It is a practical posture. Every moment, every decision, every conversation, every work is done in the presence of God. We are not alone. We are always being seen. This is not meant as surveillance but as freedom. When you know you are always before the face of God, the opinions of men lose their tyranny. When you know that your life is being observed by the One who created you and loves you, you stop performing for the crowd and start being real. And this is the Fall reversed: the presence that Adam fled has become, for the child of God, the presence that is home.

