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I’ve been meditating on the knowledge of good and evil and sitting with Jesus, asking Him about this topic. What follows is a reflection born out of my time with Him—broken down question by question, just as it unfolded in my heart. What is the one and only thing that the Father did not want for His children? The very first command God gave us was not about morality, labor, or worship—it was about not knowing good and evil. Therefore, the one and only thing Jehovah never wanted for us was: the burden of knowing good and evil for ourselves. He didn’t want any of us carrying the weight of judgment , the need to define right and wrong apart from Him , or the consequences of moral independence. The first thing He told His children wasn’t about doing, but not doing . “You are free to eat from any tree… but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” – Genesis 2:16–17 This tree was not a trap. It was a boundary drawn by love. He never wanted us to bear the burden of deciding good and evil for ourselves—because that was never meant to be ours to carry. He wanted us to have a life lived in His presence, not one filled with anxiety over moral perfection. Eating from the tree wasn’t about a piece of fruit—it was about autonomy. It was us saying, “I’ll decide for myself. I’ll be like God.” And that is the one and only thing He never wanted: For us to try to be like Him without Him. Is it logical to say that partaking of the knowledge of good and evil brought death to us—and that God never wanted that? When Adam and Eve chose to eat—they stepped into a realm God never intended for them: the realm of judgment. They became aware of nakedness. Of shame. Of fear. Of separation. Eating from the tree ushered in the very thing God warned them about: death entered the world—not just physical, but emotional and spiritual. But even in that moment, God’s heart was protective. God’s next move wasn’t vengeance. It was mercy . “He drove out the man… lest he reach out his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever.” (Genesis 3:22–24) This wasn’t cruel. This was the kindest boundary ever drawn. Because to live forever in a broken state—with the weight of guilt, fear, pain, and the knowledge of both good and evil— would have been eternal torment. Removing access to the tree of life was an act of love. Is it logical to say that the Father sent His Son, Jesus, to redeem us from the knowledge of good and evil and its consequences? When Adam and Eve ate from the tree, we all gained: The burden of moral judgment Shame (they covered themselves) Fear (they hid) Separation from God And ultimately, death Jesus came to undo all of that : He took our shame: “Who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame…” (Hebrews 12:2) He abolished fear: “Perfect love drives out fear…” (1 John 4:18) He reconciled us: “Through Him to reconcile to Himself all things…” (Colossians 1:20) He overcame death: “I am the resurrection and the life…” (John 11:25) The Father sent His only begotten Son, Jesus, to redeem us from the knowledge that broke us—the burden of trying to live by our own judgment of good and evil. Through Jesus, we return to what was lost: intimacy, life, and trust in God’s voice above our own. Through Him, we are no longer slaves to shame, fear, and moral self-reliance. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” (John 14:6) He didn’t offer more knowledge—He offered Himself. Is it logical to say that if today we ask God for the knowledge of good and evil it is actually against His will for us? Asking God for the knowledge of good and evil is asking Him to give us something He never wanted for us. It’s not a request rooted in trust, but in fear and control. It is asking for the very thing He sent Jesus to rescue us from: a life defined by moral judgment instead of relational intimacy. The tree was off-limits not because God was withholding power, but because He was protecting innocence and intimacy. Knowing good and evil apart from God means trying to be righteous without relationship. So yes, asking God for the knowledge of good and evil today still reflects that same misstep : wanting to judge , rather than trust . Jesus didn’t come to upgrade our moral awareness —He came to restore our dependence on the Father. The New Covenant doesn’t promise better knowledge—it offers a better relationship : “ They will all know me.” (Jeremiah 31:34) He came to lead us back to the voice of God . Asking our Father for the knowledge of good and evil misses the point of redemption. It’s a form of saying: “I want to know what’s right so I can handle life without needing You.” But Jesus said: “I am the vine; you are the branches. Apart from me, you can do nothing.” (John 15:5) Is it logical to say that asking the Father for this knowledge is history repeating itself—that it’s the serpent tempting us again? The enemy hasn’t changed tactics—just packaging. Today, it might sound more spiritual: “God, show me what’s right and wrong so I can walk perfectly.” “Help me judge rightly so I never mess up.” “Make me wise so I don’t need to rely on others.” But underneath it all is the same seed: “I don’t want to walk with You—I want to walk on my own.” That is still the voice of the serpent. It tempts us to substitute intimacy with information , relationship with religious self-sufficiency . In Genesis 3:5, the serpent said: “God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” That temptation wasn’t about fruit—it was about control. About becoming like God without God. When we ask today for the knowledge of good and evil, we echo that same temptation: “Give me enough insight so I can walk this life on my own.” But Jesus shows a better way: “I do nothing on my own… I speak just what the Father has taught me.” (John 8:28) “Not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) He didn’t reach for the fruit. He reached for the Father. What I’ve concluded after sitting with the Holy Spirit and asking these questions is that: God never wanted us to carry the knowledge of good and evil. He wanted us to walk with Him. To hear His voice. To rest in His presence. So no, I won’t ask for the knowledge of good and evil. I will ask for closeness. For daily bread. For my Father’s voice. For His presence.

2 Kings 3 This weekend I’m visiting some dear friends and plan to attend church with them on Sunday. Their pastor mentioned that he’ll be preaching from 2 Kings 3, focusing on the story of Elisha and the ditches. He gave a small preview of the message, saying the theme was something like: “You’ve got to dig the ditch so God can fill it with water.”  At first glance, that sounds inspiring. But the more I sat with it, the more something stirred in me—a gentle nudge from the Spirit, reminding me of what’s already been done in Christ. Honestly, it struck me as a bit of a Martha move. You know what I mean—that well-meaning, earnest energy that says, “I’ve got to do something for God before He’ll move for me.” But in my journey, I’ve learned that real peace is found at the feet of Jesus like Mary —not in the striving of my hands, but in the receiving of His life birthed inside of me. So I started pondering… What if we’ve misunderstood this story?  What I Believe 2 Kings 3 Is Actually About In 2 Kings 3, three kings (of Israel, Judah, and Edom) find themselves in desperate need of water as they head into battle. There’s no rain, no visible help in sight, and their troops and animals are near death in the desert. So they seek out Elisha the prophet.  Here’s what Elisha says in verses 16–17 (NKJV): And he said, “Thus says the Lord: ‘Make this valley full of ditches.’  For thus says the Lord: ‘You shall not see wind, nor shall you see rain; yet that valley shall be filled with water, so that you, your cattle, and your animals may drink.’ At face value, it looks like a command: “You dig, God fills.” But is that really the full picture?  Who Really Digs the Ditch? The traditional view says the digging is our effort. That we need to “prepare the way” for God’s blessing. But the gospel I know—the one revealed through Jesus—says the exact opposite: He is the one who prepares the way. He is the one who fills. He is the one who does the digging. When I thought about the ditch in this story, my heart considered: Maybe the ditch isn’t something I have to create… maybe the ditch is me. Maybe the “ditch” is my heart—empty, dry, and incapable of producing life on its own. And maybe Jesus is the Digger, the One who hollowed out space inside me by removing my heart of stone and giving me a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26). He made the space. He did the work. And then? He filled it with Living Water— His own life. ⸻   A Shadow of the Gospel I believe the entire Bible points to Jesus. So when I look at 2 Kings 3 through that lens, I don’t see a command to strive. I see a foreshadowing of grace. The valley was dry — like our souls apart from Him. The kings couldn’t fix it — just like we couldn’t fix our sin. There was no rain, no signs — yet God filled the ditches anyway.  They didn’t earn it. They didn’t cause it. They simply received what God provided. Martha vs. Mary This is why the Martha energy of “dig your ditch so God can bless you” doesn’t sit well with me anymore. Jesus praised Mary for one thing: She sat at His feet and listened. (Luke 10:39–42) Mary wasn’t preparing a ditch for Jesus. She was the ditch, and Jesus filled her with words of life.  Final Thoughts I haven’t even heard the full sermon yet, so I’m not trying to pre-judge what the pastor will say. But the Holy Spirit stirred something deep in me from just that small preview. I don’t believe God’s power is unlocked by our striving. I believe it’s revealed in our resting—in our willingness to believe that the work is already finished in Christ. The ditch isn’t a task. It’s a picture of our emptiness. And grace is the miracle of being filled without earning it. So this Sunday, whether the message is about digging or not, I’ll be sitting at Jesus’ feet—remembering the Living Water that flows freely, not because I worked for it, but because He already poured Himself out.

When the God you’ve heard about doesn’t match the God you’ve come to know. This past Sunday, I sat in a church service with friends, eager to hear a message from 2 Kings 3—one of my new favorite stories. You might remember from Part 1 of this blog that I see the dry land as us, and the ditch in this story as a picture of the human heart, and the water as the life of Jesus—given freely. I didn’t know what the sermon would be, but I never expected what I heard. The preacher read verses 4 through 25. Early on, he paused to highlight King Joram’s words in verse 10: “Oh no, the Lord has summoned these three kings, only to hand them over to Moab.” From this, the preacher built a case that God brings calamity —not just allows it, but sometimes sends it. He supported this idea with a verse from Job: “Shall we accept good from God, and not adversity?” (Job 2:10) My heart sank. Not because I was offended, but because I was grieving. Because that’s not the God I know. It’s not the God I see in Jesus—the image of the invisible God, the One who heals, rescues, and restores. It’s not the God who bore the curse so I wouldn’t have to. The Joram Problem Here’s what struck me immediately: Joram wasn’t a man who walked with the Lord. He was a Baal worshiper. He came from a long line of idolaters. So when things went wrong, Joram naturally blamed the divine—because in his belief system, that’s what gods did. They punished. They destroyed. They manipulated people through fear. He projected his beliefs about Baal onto Jehovah. I can’t be the only who who stopped to consider that Elisha, the prophet of the Lord, didn’t agree with Joram? “What do we have in common? Go to the prophets of your father and your mother!” — 2 Kings 3:13 That’s Elisha’s response. Not, “Yes, the Lord is punishing you.” Not, “That’s right—He brought calamity to humble you.” Just: We have nothing in common. Nothing. No shared faith. No shared spirit. No shared understanding of who God is. So why was Joram quoted—as if his words are truth—when Elisha, God’s representative, rejected him outright ? The Job Problem And then came the verse from Job. I’ve heard it used all my life: “Shall we accept good from God and not adversity?” (Job 2:10) Only here’s what so few ever seem to notice: By the end of the book, Job takes it back. He says in Job 42:3: “Surely I spoke about things I did not understand, things too wonderous for me to know.” And in verses 5 & 6: “I had heard reports about you, but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I reject my words am sorry for them.” Job repents. He acknowledges that he was wrong about God. So why are them some quoting the parts he later recants ? Why do we stop in chapter 2 when the Holy Spirit carried the story all the way to chapter 42? Why do we use misunderstanding to explain mystery? The Truth About Calamity The idea that God brings calamity—even if “only sometimes”—is a deeply damaging belief. It builds fear where trust is supposed to grow. It warps intimacy. It makes us question His goodness when life hurts the most. Perhaps worst of all: it minimizes the Cross. If God is the author of suffering, then why did He take suffering on Himself ? Why would Jesus, who said, “The thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy, but I came that they may have life,” go around healing, comforting, and delivering people from the very adversity we say God sends? Was Jesus undoing the Father’s work? Of course not. He was revealing the Father. So… Who Digs the Ditch? In 2 Kings 3, the ditch still matters, but I’m more convinced than ever that we’ve misread the story. The ditch isn’t our effort. The ditch isn’t punishment. The ditch is a foreshadowing of the space Jesus’ death and resurrection creates within us. We are the ditch. And Jesus—beautiful, faithful Jesus—fills us with His Living Water. Even when we misunderstand. Even when we blame Him. Even when we’ve mixed up Baal and Jehovah. He comes anyway. He fills the valley. He brings life where there was only dust. Final Thoughts If you’ve ever been told that your suffering was sent by God, I’m so sorry. I pray you’ll find comfort in the truth: God is not the source of your suffering. He is your Savior in the midst of it. Jesus doesn’t just bring Living Water—He is the Living Water. And He doesn’t hold off on filling you until you dig a ditch deep enough. He’s already dug the ditch. He fills you because you are loved enough. So next time someone tells you that God brought the calamity, remember Joram. Remember Job. And above all, remember Jesus—the only perfect picture of who our God truly is. I am thankful that 2 Kings 3 was brought to my remembrance this weekend and the story of Job. Both instances sent me to the feet of Jesus. While the message didn’t line up with who Jesus showed us the Father is, it forced me to dig deeper and search for the answers to confirm what my heart already knew.

Experience the magic of Tiffany Ann's latest literary masterpiece with this highly anticipated new release. Don't miss out on the excitement! #TiffanyAnnBooksNewRelease Jair: God's Shine (Judged in Love Book 7) Kindle Edition by Tiffany Parker (Author), R.C. Matthews (Illustrator) Format: Kindle Edition 4.3 out of 5 stars (13) Book 7 of 7: Judged in Love When strength fades, light remains. Israel is at peace—but peace is fragile. Jair of Gilead has judged Israel for twenty-two quiet years, not with sword or throne, but with wisdom, memory, and trust in Jehovah. The land prospers. The roads are safe. Thirty sons govern thirty towns, each riding out daily to carry their father’s words of justice and mercy across Havoth Jair. Yet as Jair’s body weakens, questions rise. What happens when the judge no longer rides? What holds a nation together when the man at its center grows old? As Jair faces the limits of his strength, his sons—especially Reuel, fierce and restless—must confront a deeper truth: Jehovah’s presence was never carried by a man’s stride. God’s shine does not dim with age, nor does His faithfulness depend on human effort. Told through multiple intimate points of view, Jair: God’s Shine is a lyrical work of biblical historical fiction that explores leadership, legacy, and the quiet danger of forgetting God in times of abundance. Rooted in Judges 10:3–5, this novel reimagines a rarely explored judge and reveals a profound truth woven throughout Scripture— God’s judgment is not punishment. It is love that restores. This is the seventh book in the Judged in Love series, a collection of deeply human stories told through the eyes of Israel’s judges, revealing the heart of Abba Father behind every calling. If you love biblical fiction that is reflective, Scripture-anchored, and rich with spiritual depth—continue the journey through the Judges and discover how Jehovah’s light never fades. Tola: God's Crimson (Judged in Love Book 6) Kindle Edition by Tiffany Parker (Author), R.C. Matthews (Illustrator) Format: Kindle Edition 4.5 out of 5 stars (12) Book 6 of 7: Judged in Love A crimson cord. A broken people. A God who still remembers. When peace fades, crimson remembers. Tola, a quiet man from the hills of Shamir, never sought the title of judge. Yet as Israel forgets the God who rescued her, quarrels rise like smoke across the valleys—brother against brother, tribe against tribe. Without armies or banners, Tola stands between them, holding only the crimson cord at his wrist—a sign of covenant, not conquest. Through drought and division, his task is not to rule but to remember: to remind a restless people that Jehovah’s judgment is love, calling them back to the peace they traded away. Told in lyrical, first-person prose, Tola reimagines one of Scripture’s quietest judges as a man who heals a nation not by might, but by mercy. For readers of Redeeming Love, Pearl in the Sand, and The Red Tent, this tender biblical retelling reveals a truth as old as Israel itself—that the smallest life can still carry the color of redemption. Walk with Tola and rediscover the love that never left. Queen of Poison & Fire (Artura x Thorn Book 1) Kindle Edition by Tiffany Parker (Author) Format: Kindle Edition 4.5 out of 5 stars (5) 4.6 on Goodreads 59 ratings Book 1 of 2: Artura x Thorn Artura is a healer. Her home is in the grips of war. A war on the very thing she values most: her freedom. Accused of witchcraft and treason against Cimran and the wicked king who rules the land, Artura and Emrys, the man who loved and raised her as his own, are forcibly taken from their home. At the hands of The Cleanse, an elite group of soldiers tasked with eradicating magic from the kingdom, the pair are handed over to King Helmar and locked away beneath the mountain range bordering the city. Artura has one goal: Do not break. No matter what happens. Tortured and taunted for months, when Artura is then one day handed over in marriage to a neighbouring king, it feels like this is yet another twisted form of punishment at the hands of King Helmar. Only, Artura realises that her betrothed, King Thorn of House Sorega, is not what he seems. Whisked away from the place that has haunted her dreams for so long, Artura discovers things about herself that she never thought possible. That perhaps all along, she really was guilty. And perhaps it might be her greatest asset. A whirlwind journey of pain and heartbreak, love and self discovery, ‘Queen of Poison & Fire’ will captivate you from the very start. King of Blood & Tides (Artura x Thorn Book 2) Kindle Edition by Tiffany Parker (Author) Format: Kindle Edition 4.7 on Goodreads 26 ratings Book 2 of 2: Artura x Thorn After surviving King Helmar, torture and imprisonment, all the while awakening her magic, Artura finds herself confronted by a new challenge, one she never anticipated facing: Becoming queen. Free now of Cimran and the horrors it holds, Artura’s life is set on a one-way trajectory to ruling a foreign kingdom. It’s the cost of remaining at the side of the man she loves, of remaining free of a past that haunts her day in and day out. But leaving Cimran behind is no easy feat, not when her only family still suffers an unknown fate at Helmar’s vindictive hands. The promise of life in Nimue offers Artura everything she's ever hoped for. At long last, she feels safe and protected. Yet she soon discovers that so long as Helmar reigns in neighbouring Cimran, safety is an illusion at best. When a new player emerges, promising Artura the one thing she wants above all else, she’s forced to make a choice: The man who saved her? Or the man who raised her? And will she be able to live with her decision should it all fall apart? Sequel to 'Queen of Poison & Fire,' book 2 in Artura x Thorn

Experience the magic of Tiffany Ann's latest literary masterpiece with this highly anticipated new release. Don't miss out on the excitement! #TiffanyAnnBooksNewRelease NEW RELEASES COMING SOON! CHECK BACK AGAIN.

Experience the magic of Tiffany Ann's latest literary masterpiece with this highly anticipated new release. Don't miss out on the excitement! #TiffanyAnnBooksNewRelease Love Letters From the Edge of the World: A Timeless Love Story Born on the Bayou Kindle Edition by Tiffany Buras Parker (Author), R.C. Matthews (Illustrator), Sunny H. Robichaux (Editor) Format: Kindle Edition 4.4 out of 5 stars (7) "Some love stories don’t begin with fireworks—they begin with letters." In the summer of 1934, Mary Antoinette Meister is already considered an old maid at twenty-two. Life in Batesville, Indiana, hasn’t offered much beyond chores and quiet expectations. So when she’s invited to help her brother, Father John, a Franciscan priest stationed in Port Sulphur, Louisiana, she agrees—more out of duty than curiosity. She expects heat, mosquitos, and mass. She doesn’t expect Oscar Buras. A sixth-generation son of the bayou, Oscar is smitten the moment he sees Mary. But she’s unimpressed—and uninterested. Still, her brother encourages the unlikely suitor, seeing something good and steady in the young man. He’s still in love. She’s still unconvinced. A year passes. Mary returns to Indiana, and Father John moves on to another post. But Oscar isn’t ready to give up. At her father’s invitation, he visits Batesville—and finally convinces Mary to write. What begins as reluctant correspondence becomes a lifeline. One year. Two hearts. Dozens of letters. And a love story that will cross miles, melt doubts, and stand the test of time. Perfect for fans of heartfelt historical romance, Love Letters from the Edge of the World is a tender tale of second chances, stubborn hearts, and a love worth waiting for. Order now to get lost in this love story loosely based on a true story.