Trump, Watters, and Questions of Salvation

Yesterday’s news cycle offered one of those fascinating moments where politics, personality, and theology all collided on live TV.

On Fox & Friends, Donald Trump was reflecting on his desire to end wars and save lives. Then he said this:

“If I can save 7,000 people a week from being killed... I want to try and get to heaven if possible. I'm hearing I'm not doing well... I hear I'm really at the bottom of the totem pole.”

Later that evening on The Five, Jesse Watters offered commentary on Trump’s words:

“He has this childlike spirit… that if you just do good things, there's a chance... I read a little bit about Christianity this afternoon. Apparently you actually can't just do good things to get into heaven. There has to be more about faith.”

Both of these reactions are revealing, and they both orbit around the same common misunderstanding: salvation by merit.

Trump’s Fear: Too Bad for Heaven

Trump’s worry is that he’s “at the bottom of the totem pole.” He imagines heaven as a ranking system where some saints sit on the top rung and others barely hang on at the bottom. His concern is that he’s done too much wrong, that he’s too bad to qualify for eternal life.

That instinct is common. When people feel the weight of sin and failure, they assume the bar is too high and they’ll never clear it.

Watters’ Hope: Good Enough for Heaven

On the other hand, Jesse Watters voices the opposite instinct: maybe if you do enough good, you’ll get in. He admits he skimmed some Christian teaching and learned that it’s not quite that simple—but his reflex shows the “default mode” of the human heart: work hard, do good, try to tip the scales in your favor.

That too is common. Many people don’t feel crushed by guilt—they feel buoyed by their own decency.

The Real Issue: God’s Holiness

Both perspectives make the same mistake: comparing ourselves to other people. Trump fears he’s worse than others; Watters assumes he’s better than most. But the Bible doesn’t measure us against other sinners—it measures us against God’s holiness.

And against His perfect standard, no one passes muster:

• “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23)

• “By works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight.” (Galatians 2:16)

The standard is perfection. None of us make it. Not Trump. Not Watters. Not me. Not you.

Two Roads of Salvation

When you boil it down, there are only two possible plans of salvation:

1. Works. Live perfectly, never sin, meet God’s standard on your own. (Spoiler: impossible.)

2. Grace. Admit your inability, cry out for mercy, and receive the righteousness God provides through Jesus Christ.

That’s why Paul could say: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8–9)

The Good News for Both Trump and Watters (and Us)

The good news is that Christ came for both types of people—for the one who feels too bad and the one who feels good enough. He came for the guilty conscience and the self-confident spirit alike.

The real issue is not our relative standing on a “totem pole,” but our desperate need for a Savior. And in Christ, God has provided one.

Take some time to pray today, read Scripture, speak to someone who knows the Bible well enough to walk you through understanding and receiving the gift of eternal life.

The Gift

Another Great 'Oun' — The Logic Chain of Hebrews

I’ve been reading through Hebrews, and that powerful, one little Greek word keeps jumping out at me: οὖν (oun), usually translated “therefore.”

I like to smile and say to myself: “Another great oun.” Because in Scripture, the “therefores” are never filler words. They are hinges. And every time the writer of Hebrews uses one, it swings open a big door: since this is true about Jesus… therefore, this is how I live.

When I slow down and trace them, a pattern emerges:

• Hebrews 2:1 — Jesus is greater than angels. Therefore pay close attention; don’t drift.

• Hebrews 3:1 — Jesus is greater than Moses. Therefore fix your thoughts on Him.

• Hebrews 4:1 — God’s promise of rest still stands. Therefore fear unbelief; strive to enter His rest.

• Hebrews 4:14, 16 — We have a great High Priest. Therefore hold fast and draw near with confidence.

• Hebrews 6:1 — The foundation is laid. Therefore press on to maturity.

• Hebrews 10:19–22 — Jesus has opened the way into God’s presence. Therefore draw near, hold fast, stir one another up.

• Hebrews 12:1 — We are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. Therefore run with endurance, eyes fixed on Jesus.

• Hebrews 12:12 — God disciplines for our good. Therefore strengthen weak hands and keep walking straight.

• Hebrews 12:28 — We are receiving an unshakable kingdom. Therefore worship with reverence and awe.

• Hebrews 13:13, 15 — Jesus suffered outside the camp. Therefore go to Him, bear His reproach, and offer Him continual praise.

It’s like the author is building a staircase of logic. Step after step:

Christ is supreme → Christ is sympathetic → Christ is sufficient → Christ’s kingdom is sure.

And every step ends with a “therefore.”

I find that powerful. It reminds me that the Bible doesn’t just give me abstract theology; it gives me a living Savior and a living call. Every “therefore” is a summons. Every “oun” points me back to Jesus and pushes me forward in faith.

So now when I read Hebrews (or anywhere in Scripture) and bump into a “therefore,” I stop and whisper—“another great oun.” Because it’s one of the Spirit’s favorite ways to move me from truth to obedience.

Here is an interesting way to consider these:

All the “Ouns” Together

• Pay close attention so you don’t drift.
• Fix your thoughts on Jesus.
• Fear unbelief and strive to enter His rest.
• Hold fast your confession and draw near with confidence.
• Press on to maturity.
• Draw near, hold fast, and stir one another up in love.
• Run with endurance, eyes fixed on Jesus.
• Strengthen weak hands and keep walking straight.
• Worship with reverence and awe.
• Go to Him outside the camp, bear His reproach, and offer Him continual praise.

'HAD TO' Be Made Like His Brothers (Hebrews 2:17-18)

[17] Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. [18] For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Hebrews 2:17–18 ESV)

I can’t get away from those two words in Hebrews 2:17: “He had to.”

Jesus had to be made like me—fully human in every respect. Not just taking on flesh, but stepping into the weakness, the weariness, the limitations of human life. He grew tired, He grew hungry, He asked questions, He wept. He didn’t walk through this world with a pretend humanity. He truly shared in mine.

And He did this for a reason: so He could be the sacrifice for me. Hebrews says He became like His brothers “to make propitiation for the sins of the people.” That word, propitiation, is weighty but precious. It means that Jesus Himself turned aside the just wrath of God. In the Old Testament, the Hebrew word kaphar carried the idea of covering sin through sacrifice. When the Hebrew Scriptures were translated into Greek (the Septuagint), the translators often used the word family built on hilaskomai. One of those words, hilastērion, was the name for the mercy seat—the golden cover of the Ark of the Covenant, where the high priest would sprinkle blood on the Day of Atonement. That place, the hilastērion, was where God’s wrath against sin was satisfied and His mercy was revealed.

But I have to admit—this doesn’t always strike me the way it would have struck a first-century Jewish convert. They knew the smell of sacrifices, the sight of blood, the weight of the temple rituals. They felt, in a way I don’t, the seriousness of sin and the wrath of God against it. I can grow dull to it, even weary of hearing about the cross. A man suffered, bled, and died so I did not have to. A holy man died like a criminal, so that I—the criminal—could live free. I need to keep that reality before me, because without it, the message of propitiation feels abstract. With it, it becomes the most urgent truth in the world.

And because of that, He is now merciful, faithful, and able to help me in every way. Verse 18 drives it home: “Because He himself has suffered when tempted, He is able to help those who are being tempted.” That means when I cry out in weakness, He doesn’t look down on me with detached pity. He comes alongside as one who has been there. The One who “had to” become like me is the same One who now helps me, faithfully, mercifully, without fail.

In some ways, all of this comes full circle to the beginning of Chaprer 2- I need to 'pay much closer attention'... So I don't drift.  

This latest journey though Hebrews illustrates how dull I can become to this incredible gospel message I first heard so clearly as an 8th grader in 1977 and again more clearly in 1980... and all these 45 years later- after reading, telling, studying, teaching..... sadly, I can grow dull to Jesus.

And the crazy thing is, He understand that. He loves me as a merciful and faithful brother.

May we all pay much closer attention lest we drift.....

Deliverance: Hebrews 2:14–17

This passage hit me hard today:

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. — Hebrews 2:14–15

I realized something I’ve known in theory, but not always in practice — slavery to fear is real. The writer isn’t talking about a metaphorical fear that occasionally visits. This is a deep, binding reality: we can spend our whole lives letting the inevitability of death rob us of the joy of life.

I’ve done it. I’ve let that shadow creep into my thoughts — sometimes in obvious ways, sometimes in subtle ones. It shapes decisions. It whispers, “Hold back. Play safe. Protect yourself.” That’s slavery.

And last year when I turned 60- time turned up the volume on that reality for some reason- 

But the Lord was so gracious to walk me through that... and truth is a big part of it- don't be a slave... be free!

Jesus doesn’t just comfort me in my fear — He destroys the source of it.

He stepped right into my condition — flesh and blood, weakness and pain — and then went all the way to the grave. And by doing that, He took the weapon out of the enemy’s hand. Death is still real, but it has no claim of terror anymore. The sting is gone. The verdict is reversed.

When I remember this, I feel lighter. I breathe differently. Fear is not my master. I’m not bound by the dread of “non-life” — I’m free to actually live, love, risk, and serve without that storm always looming in the distance.

That’s true freedom. Not pretending death doesn’t exist, but knowing it has been defeated. And that changes everything about how I live today.

So here’s my question — if Jesus has broken our chains, why keep wearing them?

Here is a truth- if we waste time agonizing over the inevitable reality of death- aren't we wasting a precious commodity called life.

Be free-

When you play- play hard

When you work- work hard

When you pray- pray hard

Swim in the ocean of beautiful grace!

Song Link: Deliverer

Deliverer — You broke the chain of fear
The grave can’t hold me here
You stormed the night and the tyrant fell
Deliverer — You tore the veil apart
You put courage in my heart
Now I’m living like I’ll never die
Because You’re alive

I won’t bow to the shadows anymore
The cross is my freedom, the grave is no more
The war is over, the chains are gone
I’m running in the light where I belong

Bringing MANY Sons to Glory (Hebrews 2:10)

“For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.” —Hebrews 2:10

Hebrews 2:10 is one of those verses that can easily slip by if you're not paying attention. It’s a densely packed theological stick of dynamite—exploding with implications about God’s justice, suffering, salvation, and ultimate glory.

In this one sentence, we are invited into the profound mystery of theodicy—the justice of God in the face of evil and suffering. It’s not just a philosophical puzzle—it’s the question that haunts every hospital room, battlefield, funeral, and sleepless night:

“If God is good and all-powerful… why is there so much pain?”

The skeptics paint it in much darker declarations when looking at suffering and evil-

Either He is NOT good or He is NOT God 

Hebrews doesn’t give us a simple answer. Instead, it gives us something far better: a Savior who suffers.

What Is Theodicy?

The word theodicy comes from two Greek words: theos (God) and dike (justice). It refers to the attempt to understand how a just and loving God can allow suffering in the world.

Rather than sidestepping the problem, Hebrews 2:10 places suffering right at the center of salvation history—and shows us that God’s justice is not compromised by pain. In fact, His justice is revealed in how He enters it.

“It was fitting…”

The verse opens with a staggering phrase:

“It was fitting…”

Not just necessary. Not just unavoidable.
But fitting—appropriate, right, consistent with the very character of God.

This turns theodicy on its head. We usually ask, “Why would God allow suffering?” But Hebrews says: This is what makes God so beautifully just and good—He doesn’t exempt Himself from suffering. He embraces it.

The God who is “for whom and by whom all things exist” could have redeemed us any way He chose. And yet He chose to suffer—not because He had to, but because love demanded it.

“He, for whom and by whom all things exist…”

Ok- this is what REALLY made this verse jump off the page to me.... The God of salvation IS the God of creation... He just SPOKE and the universe was created -... BOOM- why couldn't He just speak SALVATION?

And I actually had to wrestle with this.....

Let’s remember who we’re talking about.

This is the Creator—the One who spoke the universe into being. Stars, galaxies, time, space, energy—all at His command.

He created everything by a Word.
But He didn’t speak salvation into being.
He became salvation.

The same power that said “Let there be light” could have said “Let them be saved.” But He didn’t. Instead, He entered into time, pain, and death itself.

That takes us deeper into the mystery—and deeper into the heart of God.

And it made me think... this is a REALLY important verse....

“In bringing many sons to glory…”

Now we arrive at the why. This is the destination of redemption.

God is bringing us—not sending us—from brokenness to glory.

• Bringing — implies leadership, presence, guidance. He walks with us, not just ahead of us.

• Many sons — this is family language. Not just a lone hero on a cross, but a whole family being rescued and restored. Right after this we read the word "brother" or "children" 6 times in just 6 verses.

• To glory — this is not just survival or forgiveness. This is full restoration. The radiance of God’s image in us—renewed, healed, and eternal.

You and I are the recipients of this beautiful salvation.
We’re not climbing to glory. We’re being brought.

“Should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.”

Here lies the core mystery.

Jesus is the founder (Greek: archēgos)—the trailblazer, the pioneer, the one who leads the way.

But what does it mean that He was made “perfect through suffering”?

Not that Jesus lacked moral perfection—but that through suffering, He became the fully qualified Savior. He didn’t save us by remaining above the pain. He saved us by stepping into it.

He wept. He was betrayed. He was pierced. He died.
And in doing so, He showed us what love actually means.

Again, just kept reading this small little verse, pondering it, praying and then it just materialized.

Saying “I Love You” — and Proving It

Saying “I love you” is powerful.
But proving that love—especially through pain or sacrifice—is where love becomes real.

In any deep relationship, we know this:
It’s one thing to say the words.
It’s another thing to give your time, energy, even your life for someone else.

“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” —Romans 5:8

He didn’t just say it.
He proved it—with thorns, nails, and blood.

Creation came by a Word.
Salvation came by wounds.

I'm sorry, but if you are rejecting God because you feel any place to judge Him over "theodicy" - you are totally lost in your elite pride.....

Yes- suffering is still a mystery....

It leaves us not with an answer, but with a person.

Jesus doesn’t explain suffering—He enters it.
He walks with us through it.
And ultimately, He leads us out of it.

He is bringing many sons and daughters to glory.

That includes you.
That includes your pain.
That includes every unanswered question and every sleepless night.

And if you are still mad at the God who in your mind even isn't there (kind of strange isn't it?) it is never to late to be 'brought' to glory.... all it takes is a bowed knee and an honest cry.. 'Jesus I need you'... come home today my son.

Link: Heart for Home

In the Cusp: Still Young at 61

August 6, 2025

I just turned 61, and I can’t think of a better way to mark the moment than the trip I just returned from—Colorado, to see my daughter. It was more than a visit; it felt like a pilgrimage.

We hiked three unforgettable trails:

• Thunderhead Trail at Steamboat Springs Resort: 3.6 miles climbing 2,244 feet—straight up into the sky.

• T-Bar Trail via the Blackmer trailhead: 3.88 miles, 964 feet of vertical grit and beauty.

• And finally, the crown jewel: the Zirkel Circle—11.43 miles with a 2,680-foot elevation gain, winding past alpine wonders like Gold and Gilpin Lakes. It was majestic. Soul-satisfying. The kind of hike that makes your legs scream and your heart sing.

We also took on a 60-mile gravel bike ride from Hayden to Craig and back—an unrelenting 3,576 feet of elevation gain. My e-bike battery gave out at mile 40. That last 20 miles? All me, a heavy frame, and a headwind that wouldn’t quit. I rolled into town spent—and strangely proud. The rental shop didn’t even charge me. They said, “You’ve paid enough.” I believed them.

But here’s what I came away with: this was a birthday season, not just a day. One full of beauty, effort, family, and awe. And it got me thinking—not just about where I was, but where I am.

I was born on August 6, 1964, in Birmingham, Alabama—a city still smoldering from the civil rights fires, both literal and spiritual. I don’t remember those early years, but the atmosphere lingered. My earliest memories—maybe 1969 or 1970—were shaped by echoes of unrest. The air carried tension, hope, and fear.

We were a blue-collar family. We didn’t shape the headlines—we lived beneath them.

By the numbers, I’m a Baby Boomer. But I’ve never quite felt like one.

I wasn’t born into post-war prosperity. I didn’t grow up in the glow of Leave It to Beaver—I just watched reruns and wondered if anyone actually lived like that. My experience was more like Gen X: skeptical, restless, raised on the edge of institutions that seemed solid… until they cracked.

I’ve come to learn there’s a name for people like me: “cuspers.” Born in the in-between. Not quite Boomers, not quite Gen X. We borrowed language from both sides but never quite found a home.

We remember rotary phones and typewriters, but we’ve outlived them all. We were taught to respect authority—then watched Watergate, Vietnam, and televangelist scandals undo that trust. We were promised stability, then handed reinvention.

Sometimes I feel like I’m holding a translator’s pen—explaining one generation to another, while not fully belonging to either. And now, at 61, I still ask: Where is my voice? Where is my place?

To be honest, I worry that my own brand of stoicism and selfishness is the worst of both labels. That in the cusp, the danger is inheriting the shadow without the shine.

You’d think I’d have found the answer by now—carved out a niche, felt settled in my skin. But I still wake up with questions:

Am I doing what I’m called to do?

Have I used my time well?

Is my voice making any difference?

Am I declaring with my life that Jesus is Lord of All?

There’s an ache in still searching at 61. But I’m learning not to despise it. In a world noisy with opinion and echo, maybe those of us who’ve lived in both silence and sound are uniquely positioned—not to shout, but to sing something true.

I don’t want to find my voice just to leave a mark. I want to use it to build a bridge. Between generations. Between the world I inherited and the world I see coming. Between the faith I was handed and the faith I’ve wrestled with in the wilderness.

Maybe being lost in the cusp is exactly where I need to be. Maybe that edge is the place where poets speak, where tension gives birth to traction, and where a clearer perspective grows.

So here I am. Still hiking. Still writing blog posts and lyrics for songs, Still wondering. Still trusting that God isn’t finished with me yet. And loving life because of God's promises and His presence.

If you feel caught between eras, ideas, or expectations—welcome. There’s room in the cusp. And maybe, just maybe, we’re the ones who get to build something lasting. Because we’ve lived through so many shifting sands.

I’m still searching.

But the search?

It keeps me young.
It keeps me moving.
And it keeps me hoping.

What would be a good birthday present? Just visit this blog and read. Find my songs on SoundCloud and see if you hear the message- it is all designed to proclaim that God is good and I am a sinner saved by grace. Then write a note and tell me what you think, even if you hate it. Let's talk about it. Ask me dangerous.......

Watch me long enough and I will disappoint you- but Jesus never will.

Music: Jayopsis

Blog: Jayopsis.com

YouTube: Winning Edges