Welcome to The Daily, where we study the Bible verse by verse, chapter by chapter, every day.

Read more about Project23 and partner with us as we teach every verse of the Bible on video.

Our text today is Judges 17:3-4:

"And he restored the 1,100 pieces of silver to his mother. And his mother said, 'I dedicate the silver to the Lord from my hand for my son, to make a carved image and a metal image. Now therefore I will restore it to you.' So when he restored the money to his mother, his mother took 200 pieces of silver and gave it to the silversmith, who made it into a carved image and a metal image. And it was in the house of Micah." — Judges 17:3-4

Micah's mother meant well—but meaning well doesn't make something right. She takes stolen silver, dedicates it "to the Lord," and then uses it to fund an idol. It's one of the strangest contradictions in Scripture: a mom trying to honor God by disobeying Him.

But this is where sentimental faith always leads. Yesterday, she blessed what God condemned. Today, she's building what God forbade. When we refuse to confront sin, it doesn't just sit quietly—it grows bold.

You can almost hear her logic: "I'm doing this for God. It's my way of worship." But the moment we start serving God our way, we stop serving Him His way. Micah's mother didn't reject the Lord; she redefined Him. She wanted God's presence and blessing without God's authority.

And that's the same deception shaping modern faith. We've learned to baptize disobedience in religious language. Parents fund their kids' sinful choices and call it love. Churches adopt the world's ideologies and call it outreach. Politicians quote Bible verses while endorsing laws that mock God's design. It's all the same move—blessing what God condemns and calling it righteousness.

But God is not impressed by sincerity when it's married to sin. Good intentions don't turn rebellion into righteousness. When we fund what He forbids, we don't build faith—we build idols.

We see it in the culture of "progressive Christianity." We want inclusion without repentance, affirmation without transformation, and spirituality without submission. We think God should evolve with our culture, when in truth, we are the ones called to conform to His holiness.

The tragedy of Micah's home is that it looked religious but lived rebellious. It had silver crosses and carved idols, blessings and blasphemy side by side. And that's what happens when love loses its spine—sentimentality becomes sin, and truth is replaced by tolerance.

ASK THIS:

1. Where are you tempted to justify sin with "good intentions"?
2. How does your home reflect what you really believe about God's boundaries?
3. Have you ever supported something "for love's sake" that you knew dishonored God?
4. What would it look like to love your family with conviction instead of compromise?

DO THIS:

• Ask God to reveal one area where you've been "blessing" what He condemns.
• Repent by naming it for what it is—not "progress," not "love," but sin.
• Have one honest conversation this week with someone who needs truth spoken in love.

PRAY THIS:

Lord, forgive me for blessing what You've already called sin. Give me courage to love with conviction, to call truth what You call truth, and to stop confusing kindness with compromise. Amen.

PLAY THIS:

"Holy (Song of the Ages)."

Welcome to The Daily, where we study the Bible verse by verse, chapter by chapter, every day.

Read more about Project23 and partner with us as we teach every verse of the Bible on video.

Our text today is Judges 17:1-2:

There was a man of the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Micah. And he said to his mother, "The 1,100 pieces of silver that were taken from you, about which you uttered a curse and also spoke it in my ears—behold, the silver is with me; I took it." And his mother said, "Blessed be my son by the Lord." — Judges 17:1-2

This scene looks simple—a son confesses theft, and a mother blesses him. But underneath it is something tragic. Micah steals from his own mother, admits it, and instead of correction, she offers him a blessing in God's name. It sounds spiritual—but it's sentimental.

Micah's mom believes in God, but she won't confront sin. She wants to keep peace, not stir conflict. Her love is sincere, but her silence is deadly. She redefines righteousness as "being nice," and in doing so, she turns blessing into approval of sin.

And here's the cost: when parents won't draw the line, children stop seeing one. When we're silent about sin, we teach the next generation that God's boundaries are optional—that His truth bends for our emotions. Micah's mother wasn't leading her son to God; she was leading him away by confusing blessing with permission.

Sound familiar? We see it every day. Christian parents who believe in the Bible—but when their kids walk into sin, they go quiet. They're afraid to offend, afraid to seem "judgmental," afraid to lose the relationship. So they soften the truth, stay silent, or even give their blessing to lifestyles and choices that God clearly calls sin.

It's the Micah mistake—wanting God's blessing without His boundaries. We say things like, "I just want my kids to be happy," when God calls us to want our kids to be holy. We call it love, but it's really fear wearing a mask of compassion.

We live in a world that calls confrontation "hate" and tolerance "love." But God calls love something higher—truth spoken with courage, even when it hurts. Real love doesn't wink at sin; it weeps over it. It points people, even our own children, back to the God who saves, not the one we invent to make everyone comfortable.

Micah's mother wanted God in her home but not on His terms. And that's where idolatry always starts—in homes that believe but won't obey.

God doesn't bless sentimental faith. He blesses surrendered faith. Love without truth isn't love—it's permission. And truth without love isn't truth—it's pride. The real God won't bend to our emotions, preferences, or family politics. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Our job isn't to adjust Him—it's to align with Him.

ASK THIS:

1. Have you ever confused love with tolerance in your home or relationships?
2. What message does silence about sin send to your children or those you influence?
3. Where do you need to speak truth in love, even if it risks tension?
4. How can you model both conviction and compassion like Jesus did?

DO THIS:

• Identify one area where you've softened God's truth out of fear or sentimentality.
• Pray for wisdom and courage to address it with both love and clarity.

PRAY THIS:

Father, forgive me for loving comfort more than conviction. Help me to love my family enough to tell them the truth. Give me courage to draw boundaries that lead to life—and grace to speak truth in love. Amen.

PLAY THIS:

"Fear Is Not My Future."

Welcome to The Daily, where we study the Bible verse by verse, chapter by chapter, every day.

Read more about Project23 and partner with us as we teach every verse of the Bible on video.

Our text today is Judges 16:28-31:

"Then Samson called to the Lord and said, 'O Lord God, please remember me and please strengthen me only this once, O God, that I may be avenged on the Philistines for my two eyes.' And Samson grasped the two middle pillars on which the house rested, and he leaned his weight against them, his right hand on the one and his left hand on the other. And Samson said, 'Let me die with the Philistines.' Then he bowed with all his strength, and the house fell upon the lords and upon all the people who were in it. So the dead whom he killed at his death were more than those whom he had killed during his life. Then his brothers and all his family came down and took him and brought him up and buried him between Zorah and Eshtaol in the tomb of Manoah his father. He had judged Israel twenty years." — Judges 16:28-31

Samson's life was a rollercoaster of wasted potential—flashes of power, but riddled with pride, lust, and compromise. He fought enemies, but mostly on his own terms. Until now.

In his final moments, blind and humbled, Samson prayed: "O Lord God, please remember me and please strengthen me only this once." Then, the text says, "he bowed with all his strength."

That line changes everything. Samson finally used all his strength in God's way. For the first time, his power wasn't about proving himself, chasing pleasure, or showing off. It was about surrender. With his final act, Samson lived out the calling God gave him from the beginning—to deliver Israel from the Philistines.

This is what surrender looks like: using all you have, not for yourself, but for God. And ironically, it was in death that Samson accomplished more than in life. His final words and final act remind us that true strength is never self-made—it's God-given, and it's God-directed.

Our culture teaches us to spend our strength proving ourselves, building platforms, or chasing tolerance and applause. But in God's economy, your greatest strength shows up when you bow. Your calling is fulfilled when your strength is finally surrendered to His purpose.

And Samson's story points us forward to Christ. Jesus, too, stretched out His arms, surrendered His life, and in what looked like defeat, He fulfilled His mission. In surrender came victory—once for all.

ASK THIS:

1. Where have you been using your strength for yourself instead of God?
2. How does Samson's final act of surrender redefine what true strength looks like?
3. What would it mean for you to "bow with all your strength" today?
4. How can your surrender fulfill the calling God placed on your life?

DO THIS:

• Pray for the courage to bow low and surrender it to Him.
• Write down one way you will use your strength for God's purpose this week.

PRAY THIS:

Lord, may I not waste the strength You've given me. Teach me to bow with all my strength—not for myself, but for You. May my final words and daily actions echo a surrender to Your purpose. Amen.

PLAY THIS:

"Yet Not I But Through Christ in Me."