Category Archives: Holiness and Revival

Love God, Hate Sin

“Hate evil, love good, and establish justice in the court [of your city’s gate]! Perhaps the Lord God of hosts will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.”
—Amos 5:15 (AMP)

Beloved, we have arrived at a point in Church history where we must confront an inconvenient truth: you cannot love God and be neutral toward sin. To love God is to embrace what He loves and to despise what He hates. Anything less is compromise, and compromise is not the soil in which revival grows.

In our hunger for grace, we have softened our stance against evil. We whisper warnings when God shouts them. We stroke the edges of darkness rather than calling it what it is. But the Lord, whose name is holy, still burns with a fierce hatred for sin—not because He is cruel, but because He is love. Love abhors all that destroys. Therefore, if we are to walk as Yeshua walked, we must awaken to His holy hatred.

The Holy Divide: What Love Demands

To love purity is to loathe impurity. To love truth is to grieve over lies. This is not double-mindedness—it is the necessary result of a sanctified affection. David cried, “From Your precepts I get understanding; Therefore I hate every false way” (Psalm 119:104, NASB). Not tolerate. Not minimize. Hate.

This is not a hate born of pride or cruelty. It is the righteous hatred of Christ Himself, who Scripture says was anointed above His companions precisely because He loved righteousness and hated wickedness (Hebrews 1:9). It is the burning purity of God that pours oil on His people—not charisma, not comfort, not conformity, but consecration.

We do not get to pick which evils are worth hating. Sin is sin, whether it sits in the heart or walks in the streets. Whether it is lust in the pew, corruption in the court, or deceit in the pulpit—all of it grieves the Spirit. The cross was not partial in its sentence. Yeshua did not bleed selectively. And the Spirit will not dwell in a temple where evil is excused.

The Gap Between Anointing and Affection

Why do we cry out for revival and yet see no rain? Why do we pray for the fire to fall, yet keep our altars wet with compromise? It is not because God is unwilling. It is because our affections are divided.

“Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him” (1 John 2:15, NASB). The anointing follows affection. You cannot embrace holiness with one arm while hugging rebellion with the other.

It is our imperfection in loving the good and hating the evil that restricts the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. God does not give His glory to the half-hearted. If we want to be full of the Spirit, we must be emptied of what grieves Him. We must be willing to lay aside not just bad things, but lesser things—even things others around us still cling to. This is the cost of the oil. But oh, the reward is worth it.

The Dangerous Comfort of Niceness

Our nation has known unprecedented religious freedom. We build churches without resistance. We broadcast sermons without censorship. But let us not mistake absence of persecution for the favor of God. Sometimes it means we have become too tame to be threatening.

“Woe to you when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers used to treat the false prophets” (Luke 6:26, AMP). The world has not hated us because we have not given it a reason to. We have chosen the easier road. The applause of man has become louder than the voice of God.

We are too quick to excuse sin, to dilute conviction in the name of love. But beloved, this is not the love of Christ. The love of Christ was never silent in the face of wickedness. It flipped tables. It rebuked the religious. It wept over the lost. It bled for the sinner but never approved the sin.

To love like Jesus is to be misunderstood. It is to be a nuisance to the world and a fragrance of life to the remnant. It is to pursue righteousness even when it costs you reputation, comfort, and standing. Vance Havner was right—we are so busy running for office that we have forgotten to stand for truth.

The Narrow Way: Love That Separates

“Whoever pursues righteousness and loyalty finds life, righteousness, and honor” (Proverbs 21:21, NASB). Notice that the path to life is not through appeasement. It is through pursuit. Righteousness must be chased with abandon.

If we are to be the Bride of Christ, we must look like Him. And the Lamb is pure. He is holy. His garments are not stained with compromise. Those who follow Him must wash their robes in His blood and forsake the harlotries of this world.

We must recover our disgust for sin—not as self-righteousness, but as spiritual sanity. Sin is not a lifestyle choice. It is death. It is rebellion. It is the very thing that pierced the hands of our Lord. To tolerate it is to make peace with the nails.

Let us not be afraid to be counted among the fools for Christ. Let us reject the fear of being labeled “intolerant,” “radical,” or “legalistic.” The only label that matters is this: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” That label does not come cheap. It is forged in the fires of obedience and secured in a heart that loves God more than it loves comfort.

Justice Begins at the Gate

Amos cried out not just for private piety, but for public justice. “Hate evil, love good, and establish justice in the court [of your city’s gate]!” (Amos 5:15, AMP). The revival God seeks is not one of emotion alone, but of reformation.

If we tolerate injustice in our courts, dishonesty in our systems, and corruption in our dealings, we mock the God of righteousness. The Church must again become a voice for justice—not partisan justice, but Kingdom justice.

Righteousness is not quiet. It speaks. It acts. It stands at the gate and says, “This is wrong,” even when doing so is costly. Revival that never touches the courtroom, the classroom, or the boardroom is not the revival of the prophets—it is a counterfeit.

A Prayer for Sanctified Affection

“Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth” (John 17:17, NASB). This is the cry of every heart that longs for more of God. Not more knowledge, not more comfort—but more of Him.

And to have more of Him, we must love what He loves and hate what He hates.

Beloved, this is not a call to become bitter, angry watchdogs. This is a call to become blazing altars. Let the fire of God burn in you until it consumes every unclean thing. Let your affections be purified until you no longer negotiate with sin but grieve over it. Let your heart be so aligned with Heaven that every compromise feels like betrayal.

When that happens, the oil will come. The power will come. The revival will come.

But until then, may our prayer be:

Lord, I want to receive more of the Holy Spirit’s goodness in my life,
yet I recognize today that I still cling to things You hate
and resist that which You love.
Sanctify my affections, that I may experience more and more of You.
Amen.

See Also

Testimonies that Glorify God


Let God Be Glorified

Come and hear, all who fear God, and I will tell what He has done for my soul (Psalm 66:16, NASB).

This is the voice of one who has tasted the mercy of El Elyon and cannot remain silent. He does not draw attention to himself, but to the power of God. Every true testimony flows from this fountain—it glorifies God alone, not the one who speaks.

The Apostle John, who leaned against Yeshua’s chest and saw the glory of the Word made flesh, heard these words from Heaven: They overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony (Revelation 12:11, NASB). Notice where the victory rests. Not in strategy, eloquence, or charisma—but in the Lamb and what He has done. The testimony is not a platform for self—it is a declaration of God’s faithfulness and mercy.

Even our Savior warned, Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them (Matthew 6:1, NASB). The danger is not just in falsehood, but in misdirected truth—when we say the right things for the wrong reasons, and shift the spotlight onto ourselves.

Let Boasting Die at the Cross

The Apostle Paul could have boasted. His résumé was unmatched—zealous, learned, bold. Yet he said, Far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ (Galatians 6:14, NASB). The cross is where all pride dies. It is where we remember that we were nothing, and He gave us everything. Any story that begins with “I did” must be reexamined. Let every true testimony begin with “God moved.”

Paul reminded the Corinthians, So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth (1 Corinthians 3:7, NASB). We are nothing more than vessels—fragile, breakable, and utterly dependent on El Shaddai to fill us. Testimonies should cause awe, not applause. They should humble, not elevate. If we speak of answered prayers or miracles, let us speak as those trembling in the presence of a holy God.

Before the healing comes, the jar must break. This is where revival begins—on our faces, with nothing held back.

Where Is the Power We Preach?

We have the Word. We memorize the verses. We know what to say. But where is the power? Where is the Presence? We talk about revival, but do we carry it? Yeshua said:

I assure you and most solemnly declare to you that anyone who believes in Me [as Savior] will also perform the same actions as I do. Moreover, they will accomplish even greater feats in scope and reach, for I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in My name [as My representative], this I will do, so that the Father may be glorified and celebrated in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My name [as My representative], I will do it (John 14:12–14, AMP).

We love to quote verse 15—If you [really] love Me, you will keep and obey My commandments—but are we living verses 12 through 14? We say we follow Him, but where is the fruit? Where is the unmistakable evidence of His power and Presence moving through us?

If we are honest, we must ask: Have we crafted denominations, doctrinal statements, and creeds to soothe our lack of faith? Are we building altars of reason because we have forgotten the fire of God? When Peter was in the Upper Room before Pentecost, he probably cried out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” Have we reached that place? Have we truly died to self?

Truly Dying to Self: A Forgotten Cry

What does it mean to truly die to self? We speak of it often, but do we live it? Picking up our crosses daily sounds poetic until obedience costs us something. Listening to His voice is inspiring until He asks us to release our comfort, our pride, or our reputation. Is there anyone alive today who can say, “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB)?

If our hearts were truly right with God, these things would happen. Miracles would follow our prayers. Deliverance would spring from our declarations. Revival would not be a hope—it would be a holy eruption. The reason it doesn’t happen is not that God has changed. He is being true to His Word. He tests hearts. He purifies motives. He waits for a people who will make Him the center of their testimony, not themselves.

We need to keep pressing into Him, asking Him to search us and refine us. We must return to the altar, not to tell God what we’ve done, but to ask Him to reveal our motives so that we may be pure vessels. Our testimonies should reflect the cry of John the Baptist: He must increase, but I must decrease (John 3:30, NASB).

She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Let Testimonies Burn with His Glory

Even our best obedience is not a trophy—it is a response. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them (Ephesians 2:10, NASB). We are not the authors of greatness. We are the canvas upon which the Master Artist paints His glory.

Let every testimony burn with the truth: It was God. All of it. The mercy. The healing. The change. If He used us, it was not because we were worthy—it was because He is good.

Do not share to impress. Share to exalt. Let your testimony be a trembling offering that points upward, not inward. Speak not of how much faith you had, but how faithful El Olam was to you. Let the story glorify the Name above all names—Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain.

Let Us Pray

O El Shaddai, Mighty and All-Sufficient One,

We come before You with broken hearts, confessing how often we have spoken to be seen, shared to be praised, and testified to exalt ourselves. Forgive us, Lord. Purify our hearts, cleanse our lips, and strip away every hidden motive that does not glorify You.

Teach us what it means to truly die daily—to applause, to recognition, to the craving for man’s approval. Let our testimonies rise like holy incense—fragrant only because You have been faithful. Let them carry the weight of Your glory, not the weight of our names.

We lay our words at Your feet. Sanctify them. Let every syllable exalt the Name above all names—Yeshua, our Redeemer. Let our stories become songs of Your mercy, drawing hearts not to us, but to Your throne.

Burn away pride, expose every imitation, and silence the flesh. Let the fire of Your Spirit purify our witness until only Your power remains. And when we speak, let the world see not us, but You living through us.

We join with the saints, with the seraphim, and with all creation in one cry:

You alone are worthy.

Amen.

A weathered wooden cross stands silhouetted against a glowing sunset, marking the place where pride ends and surrender begins.

See Also