Welcome back to Pomoja Podcast, a ministry of
life of Christ International Ministries. Pomoja
means together, and that's exactly what this
space is about. The place where stronger lives
are built, faith is strengthened, hearts are
encouraged, and Christ -centered homes are shaped
through ordinary conversations that become extraordinary
encounters with God's truth. One conversation,
one story, one revelation at a time. Thank you
for joining me for another powerful conversation.
During our last conversation, we stayed in the
forest. We discovered that before God entrusts
us with a covenant, He prepares us for it. We
learned that throughout scripture, God has never
been in a hurry. He prepares Noah before the
flood, Abraham before the promise, Joseph before
the palace, David before the throne. Even Jesus
spent years in preparation before beginning his
public ministry. Preparation has always been
part of God's pattern. But today, our journey
through the forest finally brings us to the house.
And as I continued reflecting on my father's
story, Another question began to stir in my heart.
A question I had never asked before. Why did
the man decide to enter? He could have admired
the house and continued walking. He could have
appreciated what he saw without becoming part
of it. He could have stood outside for the rest
of his life, but he didn't. He chose to enter.
The more I prayed about that simple detail, The
more I realized, my father wasn't only telling
a story about marriage. He was revealing the
nature of every covenant. Let's go back to the
beginning. Imagine yourself walking through that
forest. You've been walking for a long time.
The trees are everywhere. The path seems endless.
Then suddenly, through the branches, you see
a house. Not just any house. A beautiful house.
A peaceful house. A house that seems completely
out of place in the middle of the wilderness.
Naturally, you move closer. And that's when you
notice something even more beautiful. Through
the windows, you see a husband and a wife. They're
not arguing. They're not pretending. They're
simply enjoying one another. They're talking,
laughing, smiling. There is peace in that house.
There is joy. There is love. Think about that
for a moment. The man wasn't attracted by the
architecture. He was attracted by the life inside.
That changed the way I see this story. Because
people are rarely transformed by buildings. They're
transformed by what they witness inside them.
That's true in marriage. It's true in the church.
And it's true in the Christian life. People may
admire our buildings. They may appreciate our
worship. They may respect our traditions. But
what truly captures their attention is seeing
lives that have been transformed by Jesus Christ.
The greatest testimony of a Christian marriage
isn't a perfect wedding album. It isn't expensive
rings. It isn't a beautiful house. It's the quiet
evidence that two imperfect people have learned
to love one another. with the love of Christ.
That's what the man saw, not perfection, peace,
not performance, joy, not appearances, love,
and it made him want what they had. As I reflected
on this, I couldn't help but thank God for the
couples he placed in my own life, men and women
who probably never realized that someone was
watching them. Watching the way they spoke to
each other, the way they prayed together, the
way they endured difficult seasons, the way they
remained faithful, whether they knew it or not.
They became houses in the middle of the forest,
lights for those of us who were still walking.
Never underestimate what your marriage may be
saying to someone else. There may be a young
man. who has never seen a godly husband. There
may be a young woman who has never witnessed
what biblical love looks like. There may be a
child whose understanding of God will be shaped
by what he first sees between his father and
his mother. Your marriage may be introducing
someone to the beauty of God's design long before
they ever open a Bible and perhaps That's exactly
what Jesus meant when he said, let your light
shine before others so that they may see your
good works and give glory to your Father who
is in heaven. Sometimes that light shines from
a pulpit. Sometimes it shines from a mission
field. And sometimes it shines from something
as ordinary and as extraordinary as a husband
and wife. faithfully loving one another. Because
every healthy Christ -centered marriage becomes
a living invitation. An invitation that quietly
says, come and see what God can build. But there
is something else, something even deeper, that
the man saw through those windows. He didn't
simply see love. He saw God's design. and that
changes everything. There was something else,
something I had overlooked for many years. When
the visitor looked through those windows, he
didn't simply see love. He saw God's design.
That may sound like a small detail, but it's
actually one of the greatest revelations hidden
in my father's story. The man didn't see two
people trying to invent marriage. He saw a husband.
A wife, a home, a family, without saying a single
word. My father had already taken us back to
the Garden of Eden. Because that's where every
conversation about marriage must begin. Not with
our experiences, not with our opinions, not with
our culture, but with God. Every manufacturer
writes an owner's manual for what he creates.
The inventor understands the purpose of his invention
better than anyone else. If I buy a new vehicle,
I don't call my neighbor to find out how the
engine was designed to operate. I read the manual
written by the manufacturer. Why? Because the
creator always understands the creation better
than the user. Marriage is no different. If God
created marriage, then only God has the authority
to define it. Not because He wants to control
us, but because He understands what He created.
That is why the Bible doesn't introduce marriage
in a courtroom, or in a church building, or in
a palace. Marriage begins in a garden, long before
there were nations, before there were governments,
before there were cultures, before there were
denominations. before traditions, before customs,
there was God, and there was Eden. Genesis tells
us that after creating Adam, God declared, it
is not good that the man should be alone. I will
make him a helper fit for him. For the first
time in creation, God looked at something and
said, it is not good. Not because Adam lacked
purpose, not because he lacked God. not because
he lacked work. Adam had all of those things.
He walked with God. He had meaningful responsibility.
He lived in a perfect environment, yet something
was still incomplete. Then God created Eve. Notice
something beautiful. Adam didn't search the world
looking for a wife. God brought Eve to him. Marriage
was never Adam's invention. It was God's gift.
God performed the first wedding. God became the
first father, giving away his daughter. Adam
became the first husband. Eve became the first
wife. And heaven witnessed the first covenant.
That tells me something profound. Marriage is
not merely a social contract. It is a divine
institution. It existed before any human institution
ever existed. Which means... Marriage doesn't
belong to society. It belongs to God. And because
it belongs to God, its meaning can never be determined
by public opinion. Opinions change. Cultures
change. Governments change. Generations change.
But the creator does not. God's design has never
depended on whether it is popular. Truth has
never needed a majority vote. Now. There is another
reason I believe my father described a husband
and a wife sitting inside that house He wasn't
trying to make a political statement. He wasn't
trying to win an argument He was simply describing
what God established in the beginning Sometimes
we spend so much time debating marriage that
we forget to admire it Marriage was God's first
picture of covenant before Israel before the
church, before pastors, before apostles, before
kings. God gave humanity, a home, a husband,
a wife, and a covenant. Everything else in scripture
begins to build upon that foundation. Then, centuries
later, the apostle Paul writes something extraordinary
in Ephesians chapter 5. After speaking about
husbands loving their wives and wives respecting
their husbands, He suddenly says, this mystery
is profound and I am saying that it refers to
Christ and the church. Did you catch that? Paul
says marriage has always been pointing beyond
itself. A husband's love is meant to reflect
Christ's love for his church. A wife's devotion
reflects the church's response to Christ. Marriage
is not only about two people learning to love
each other. It is also a living picture. of the
gospel itself. That means every healthy Christian
marriage quietly tells a greater story. It announces
that Christ loves his people, that he is faithful,
that he forgives, that he remains committed,
even when the journey becomes difficult. And
perhaps that's why the visitor stopped walking.
He wasn't simply looking at a happy couple without
realizing it. He was catching a glimpse of the
heart of God. But even after seeing all of that,
the man still had one decision to make. Seeing
the house was not enough. Admiring the covenant
was not enough. At some point, he had to decide,
would he remain outside or would he enter? Because
every covenant, whether marriage or salvation,
begins with one simple word, yes. Now the story
reaches its defining moment. The man has finished
the journey. The house is before him. He has
seen the beauty inside. He has witnessed peace.
He has witnessed love. He has discovered God's
witnessed love. He has discovered God's design.
But none of those things made the decision for
him. He still had a choice. He could turn around.
He could continue walking. He could spend the
rest of his life remembering the beautiful house
he once discovered in the middle of the forest,
or he could enter. As simple as that moment appears,
it may be the greatest lesson hidden in my father's
story, because every covenant God establishes
begins exactly the same way, with an invitation
and with a choice. One of the things I admire
most about God is that he has never forced himself
upon anyone. Think about it. When God called
Noah, Noah could have refused. When God called
Abraham to leave his father's house, Abraham
could have stayed. When Joshua stood before Israel
and declared, choose this day whom you will serve,
the people had a decision to make. When Elijah
stood on Mount Carmel and asked, How long will
you waver between two opinions? Israel had to
choose. When Ruth looked at Naomi and said, your
people shall be my people and your God, my God,
she entered a covenant by choice. Jesus himself
walked along the shores of Galilee and simply
said, follow me. He never dragged anyone behind
him. He invited them. Some followed, others walked
away. Even the rich young ruler whom Jesus loved
was allowed to leave. That tells us something
beautiful about the heart of God. Love never
forces. Love invites. Because forced obedience
is not love. Compel commitment is not covenant.
True covenant always begins with a willing heart.
As I reflected on that, I suddenly realized something
astonishing. The man in my father's story didn't
simply enter a house, he accepted an invitation.
And isn't that exactly what salvation is? Jesus
said in Revelation, Behold I stand at the door
and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens
the door, I will come into him and eat with him
and he with me. I love that picture. Jesus doesn't
break the door down. He doesn't force his way
inside. He knocks. He waits. He invites. The
decision belongs to us. Do you see the beauty
of the connection? In my father's story, the
man opens a door to enter the house. In the gospel,
we open the door of our hearts to welcome Christ.
One begins a marriage. The other begins eternal
life. Both begin with trust. Both begin with
surrender. Both begin with saying, yes, I think
many people misunderstand salvation. They see
it as the finish line. The Bible presents it
as the starting line. The day you receive Christ
is not the day your journey ends. It is the day
your journey begins. Just as standing at an altar
doesn't instantly make someone a mature husband
or a mature wife, receiving Jesus doesn't instantly
make us spiritually mature. The covenant begins
immediately. The transformation unfolds over
a lifetime. Marriage teaches us how to love.
Discipleship teaches us how to become like Christ.
Marriage requires faithfulness. Discipleship
requires faithfulness. Marriage calls us to die
to ourselves. Take up his cross daily and follow
me. Do you see the pattern? God has always been
more interested in relationships than rituals,
more interested in covenant than ceremonies,
more interested in transformed hearts than outward
appearances. The wedding is beautiful, baptism
is beautiful, but neither is the destination.
They are both declarations that a journey has
begun. Perhaps someone listening today finds
themselves exactly where the man stood. You've
seen the house. You've admired what God can do.
Maybe you've watched faithful Christian marriages.
Maybe you've seen the peace Christ has brought
into someone else's life. You've been inspired,
encouraged, even convinced, but you've never
entered. You've remained outside, close enough
to admire. but never close enough to belong.
Can I lovingly tell you something? Admiration
has never transformed anyone. You can admire
Jesus without following him. You can respect
his teachings without surrendering your life
to him. You can believe he existed and still
never know him personally. There comes a moment
when every admirer must become a participant.
Every observer must become a disciple. Every
invitation awaits a response. Maybe today, God
is extending that invitation to you. Not into
a religion, not into an institution, not into
a list of rules, but into a covenant, into a
relationship with His Son. Just as the visitor
reached for the door of that house, you can reach
for Christ today. Not because you understand
everything, none of us did. Not because you have
everything figured out, none of us do. But because
you've come to trust the one who is inviting
you. One decision changed the course of that
man's story. One yes to Jesus changes the course
of eternity.