Category Archives: Spiritual Formation

Living as One Bought by the Blood

You were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. — 1 Corinthians 6:20 (NASB)

The blood of Yeshua was not a suggestion; it was a purchase. It was not symbolic; it was substitution. When the apostle Paul wrote that we were bought at a price, he anchored our worth not in our own goodness or effort, but in the costly and deliberate offering of the Son of God. To be bought means we are no longer our own (1 Corinthians 6:19). We are vessels of mercy, redeemed for His glory, and consecrated for His purposes. This is not metaphor—it is covenant reality.

Honor God with your body. This command pierces our modern ears. We live in a culture that celebrates autonomy over submission, indulgence over discipline, and gratification over holiness. But the Spirit says otherwise. The body is not a tool for sin, nor merely a shell to be tolerated. It is a temple—the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, every act done in the body—speech, appetite, sexuality, rest, labor—must reflect the ownership of God. The King who bought us now resides within us.

But here is the mercy: God does not expect uniformity, but surrender. He has given each of us a distinct temperament, a unique personality shaped by His creative will. One sings. Another serves. One prays in solitude. Another weeps in intercession. The office of the Holy Spirit is to guide each believer, personally and powerfully, into a walk of holiness that fits their frame yet conforms to His will. He does not flatten our differences—He sanctifies them.

The spiritual transaction of salvation is real and unforgettable. Whether dramatic or quiet, when a soul meets God in true repentance and faith, the Holy Spirit bears witness. A divine line is crossed, and something eternal begins. As Paul said in 2 Corinthians 5:17, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.” Though the moment may be brief, the evidence lasts a lifetime. There is a shift—a deepened awareness, a quickened conscience, a holy longing. That soul can never again be content in compromise.

Yet we war within. The flesh still pulls. Our carnal desires whisper old lies, and our human leanings try to find shortcuts to what only God can give. But we cannot trust the flesh. Paul warns plainly in Romans 8:13, “For if you are living according to the flesh, you are going to die; but if by the Spirit you are putting to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” The path of victory is not in trying harder but in yielding deeper. It is the Spirit who sanctifies. It is the Spirit who empowers. It is the Spirit who guards what has been purchased.

Beloved, we must come back to the altar. Not once, but daily. Not in theory, but in our bodies. As Paul wrote in Romans 12:1, “Present your bodies as a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.” This is the great offering of the redeemed. Not burnt offerings or incense, but our yielded hands, pure thoughts, surrendered appetites, and consecrated lives. In so doing, we do not earn grace—we respond to it.

This is why we honor God with our bodies. Because the price paid was not small. The cross was not neat. The suffering was not symbolic. The Lamb was slain. The wrath of God fell on Him so that it would not fall on us. “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Every drop of blood cries out: “You are Mine.”

And so, we live differently. We listen to the Spirit, not the crowd. We pursue holiness, not popularity. We trust God’s Word, not our feelings. And we remember always: this body, this life, this breath—it belongs to Another.

O Lord, You shaped me in the womb,
Yet bought me on that darkest day.
So take my hands and feet and frame—
Let all I am reflect Your way.

A Closing Prayer

Father, I thank You for the blood of Yeshua, which bought me completely. You paid the highest price to redeem me, not only my soul but also my body, my choices, and my daily walk. Holy Spirit, teach me how to honor You with this life. Sanctify my desires, correct my wanderings, and stir up a deeper awareness of Your presence. May my body be a temple pleasing in Your sight. Let every member be an instrument of righteousness, and let my life reflect that I have been bought by God. In Yeshua’s name, amen.

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Fire Shut Up in My Bones

July 7, 2025 warren Leave a comment

What to Do When God Says Wait

There are moments in your walk with God when His Word ignites something deep within you—so deep, it feels like your whole being trembles to contain it. The prophet Jeremiah once wrote,

“His word was in my heart like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I was weary of holding it in, and I could not endure it” (Jeremiah 20:9, NASB).

You know this feeling if you’ve ever carried something from God that you couldn’t yet release. It’s not imagined. It’s holy. When God entrusts you with revelation, it stirs your spirit. But what happens when the Holy Spirit says, Not yet?

That is the tension I’ve been living in this past week.

A Word Spoken—and Held

A week ago, a local pastor offered me a word of counsel. It wasn’t a rebuke—it was seasoned with grace and conviction. He pointed me to Ecclesiastes 5:2:

“Do not be hasty in word or impulsive in thought to bring up a matter in the presence of God. For God is in heaven and you are on the earth; therefore, let your words be few.”

At the time, I felt like I might explode with what the Lord had shown me. I wanted to pour it out. But this word stopped me—not with resistance, but with reverence. And it has been percolating in my spirit ever since. I realized: the overflow is not the goal—obedience is. The fire in my bones was real, but God was inviting me to carry it with greater maturity.

The River That Taught Me

About a year ago, the Lord gave me a vision of the river of God. It flowed from the throne like the rivers described in Ezekiel 47 and Revelation 22. In that vision, I would leap into the river with joy and let it carry me wherever He willed. I didn’t try to steer. I didn’t try to swim. I just wanted to go where He led.

Later, I shared this with a faithful brother. He listened, then asked, “What were you looking for?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “I just wanted to be carried by the Lord.”

Then he said something that stayed with me:

“Have you ever tried swimming?”

That simple question changed me. I had never thought of swimming as part of the river. But when I tried it, something shifted. I wasn’t resisting the current—I was moving with it. Not in my own strength, but in rhythm with His.

I go back to that river often. It reminds me that surrender and obedience are not passive. Sometimes they look like stillness. Sometimes they look like movement. But they always look like trust.

This past week, when that fire began burning in my bones, I returned again to the river. The same lesson came: wait when He says wait, move when He says move, and trust that the fire is safe in His hands.

Enlarging the Heart

Psalm 119:32 says, “I will run the way of Your commandments, for You will enlarge my heart.” That’s what God does in the waiting. He doesn’t put out the fire. He gives you a greater capacity to carry it.

Yeshua told His disciples, “I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now” (John 16:12, NASB). Even the Son waited. Not because the Word lacked power, but because the people lacked readiness. If He waited, how much more should we?

Maturity isn’t proven by how quickly you speak, but by how deeply you can carry the Word until God opens the door. What feels like delay is often preparation. The vessel must be shaped before the oil can be poured out.

Fire Without Frenzy

Mary received the Word from the angel. She carried the promise of Messiah. And what did she do? “She treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19, NASB). She didn’t rush to speak. She allowed the fire to deepen.

When Moses turned aside to see the bush that burned without being consumed, he first removed his sandals. He stood on holy ground in stillness before the Word of the Lord came (Exodus 3:1–5). The fire burned, but it waited.

Even Elijah built the altar before the fire fell. He arranged the stones, soaked the offering, and prayed at the appointed time (1 Kings 18:36–38). Fire in Scripture doesn’t arrive to impress—it arrives in alignment.

If you’re burning, beloved, but God has not said speak, you’re not being rejected. You’re being refined.

The Body and the Timing

Sometimes God says wait so someone else can speak. The Church is a body, not a solo voice. When you yield your moment, you make room for others. That is love. That is unity. That is maturity.

“The spirits of prophets are subject to prophets” (1 Corinthians 14:32, NASB). That means even your deepest urgency must yield to the order and rhythm of the Spirit. This is not suppression. It is consecration. It is holy fire under holy restraint.

And when the Lord finally says, “Now,” your words will not merely blaze. They will bear fruit. They will not just stir. They will sanctify.

Fire in the Silence

So here I am, one week later, still burning. But no longer restless. The silence has become my censer. The waiting has become worship. The fire has not faded—it has deepened.

You may be in that place too. If so, I say to you:

Wait well. Burn deep. And let the Lord enlarge your heart.

A week I’ve held this word, Lord, and still the fire burns.
The silence is my censer now, in which the incense turns.
You do not waste the waiting time, nor shame the unsent flame.
But forge within a tongue of fire that speaks only Your name.

Prayer

Father, You see the fire You’ve placed within me. It burns with longing to speak, to move, to release what You’ve shown. But I hear Your whisper calling me to wait. So I yield the fire back to You—not to extinguish it, but to honor You in the silence. Enlarge my heart, Lord. Teach me to carry the flame with wisdom. Make me still like Moses before the bush, patient like Mary treasuring the Word, and obedient like Yeshua, who waited until the fullness of time.

Refine me in the waiting. Let the silence become my offering, and the delay my place of worship. I trust You with the timing, the release, and the impact. When You say speak, I will speak. Until then, I will burn in secret and walk with You in trust. Let the flame deepen, not diminish. And when I open my mouth again, let it be Your fire and Your voice alone. In Yeshua’s name, amen.

Psalm 133