Author: eejoseph

Honey Drop 30: The Net That Did Not Break

eejoseph,

“So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn.” John 21:1

Echo

Luke 5:6 — “…they enclosed a large number of fish, and their nets were breaking.”

The scene

After a long night of fruitless labor, the disciples haul in a miraculous catch. The net strains under the weight of abundance—but it does not tear. This Honey Drop speaks to those who’ve been stretched by blessing, burdened by grace, and wonder if they’ll hold.

The tension, the comfort

The net should have broken. The weight was too much. Why didn’t it? What holds when we don’t have the strength? There is a  paradox here; of fragility and faithfulness, how truth, covenant, and divine design hold us when we’re sure we’ll snap.

The net was made for this. Not by accident, but by grace. The same hands that filled it also wove it. The net holds not because of its strength, but because of its source. And so do we.

Sidebar: Truth and the Net
In Greek, the word for net in John 21:11 is δίκτυον—a woven structure, not a single strand. It holds because it’s interlaced. Likewise, ἀλήθεια (truth) in John’s Gospel is not abstract—it’s tensile. It binds, bears, and bears witness.

The drop

Sweet Honey Drop
Truth is the thread 
That holds the haul 
When grace weighs heavy. 
 
The net did not break— 
Not because it was strong, 
But because it was woven 
In the waiting. 

Every knot a prayer, 
Every loop a promise. 
 
And when the fish came, 
The net remembered 
What the night had taught it.

δίκτυον (net): not torn, though full 
ἀλήθεια (truth): not brittle, though tested

The net did not break because it was woven in waiting. So too, truth is not a brittle creed but a braided covenant—knotted through nights of nothing and mornings of miracle.

Honey Drop 29: The Bosom and the Beat

eejoseph,

“As a shepherd, He will shepherd His flock; with His arms He will gather the lambs…” Isaiah 40:11

Clarity in writing: a pastor shepherds his flock.

ὡς ποιμὴν τὸ ποίμνιον αὐτοῦ ποιμανεῖ… Isaiah 40:11a (Septuagint)

The scene

A weary soul, having served long and carried much, finds themselves not cast out, but drawn in—into the Shepherd’s arms. Not for rest alone, but for realignment. The fold is not escape; it is encounter. And in the bosom of God, the lamb hears what no sermon could teach: the heartbeat of holy care.

The comfort – the tension

The fold is not just a place of comfort—it is a crucible. To be held close is to be exposed to the rhythm of divine urgency. The heartbeat is not passive; it is prophetic. The lamb must learn to move with the pulse, not resist it.

Yet in that bosom, there is no condemnation. Only cadence. The Shepherd does not demand performance—He offers presence. The lamb is not measured, but embraced. And in that embrace, the flame of purpose is kindled.

Echo (one of the lambs): John 13:23 — “The disciple whom Jesus loved was reclining at Jesus’ bosom…”

The drop

Sweet Honey Drop
Drop
He folds the flock, 
Feeds the frail, 
Fans the flame. 

In His bosom, the lambs rest –
Not just near, but within. 
 
Where mercy beats beneath the fleece, 
And fire waits, gentle, under skin. 
 
Poimen of pulse and presence, 
Shelter shaped by sound.

Honey Drop 28: The Drought and the Deep

eejoseph,

“The Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring whose waters do not fail.” Isaiah 58:11 

The scene

During Hezekiah’s reign, Judah faced siege, scarcity, and spiritual fatigue. The Assyrian threat loomed, and the people fasted—but not always rightly. Isaiah stood in the city’s shadowed streets and declared: “The Lord will guide you continually… you shall be like a watered garden.” 
Some laughed. Some wept. But a remnant believed. And when the siege broke, and the land breathed again, they remembered: the drought had not dried them—it had deepened them.

The comfort – the tension

Your nephesh was parched. Your etsem was brittle. 
But the Lord did not abandon you to the drought. 
He guided. He satisfied. He strengthened. 
Now you are not just surviving—you are irrigated from within. 
You are a garden with memory. A spring that does not fail.

The drop

He restored your soul. He rebuilt your bones. 
Now you are a garden that sings in drought. 
A spring that remembers the rain.

Comb

When the nation was dry, the Word dug deep. 
And those who stood in the drought became the wells for generations.

Honey Drop 27: The Sowing and the Singing

eejoseph,

“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy.” Psalm 126:5 

The scene

A woman sings in a hospital corridor after her father’s surgery succeeds. She didn’t learn the tune. It is the spontaneous song of success. Words are irrelevant. The nurses call it “the hallway hallelujah.”

The comfort – the tension

The sowing is soaked in tears that speak without sound. 
The reaping erupts in rinnah רִנָּה—shouts that sing without words. 
This is not a transaction. It’s a transformation.

The drop

You sowed in silence. You will reap in song. 
The tears were your offering. The shout will be your answer.

Poetic Flash:

Do reapers surely know 
that tears once softened this soil? 
That every shout of joy 
was first a silent ache?

Can eaters ever know 
that weeping once salted the seed? 
That the harvest they taste 
was once a prayer with no words?

Honey Drop 26: The Known and the Knowing

eejoseph,

“So I will show my greatness and my holiness and make myself known in the eyes of many nations. Then they will know that I am the Lord.” Ezekiel 38:23 

The scene

A linguist studies ancient verbs in exile. She’s lost her homeland, her library, and her students. One night, she dreams of a scroll unrolling in fire. Two words glow: He was known. They knew. She wakes weeping—not for what she’s lost, but for what cannot be unlearned.

The comfort – the tension

Two perfect verbs. One divine, one human. 
וְנ֣וֹדַעְתִּ֔י — I was made known. 
וְיָדְע֖וּ — They knew. 
God reveals Himself not as a whisper but as a wonder. His greatness and holiness are not hidden—they are hurled into the eyes of the nations. And when He is known, they know. Not partially. Not tentatively. But perfectly.

The drop

Sweetness Drop: 
He made Himself known. And they knew. 
This is not the knowledge of scholars, but of seers. Not the logic of proof, but the fire of presence. 
And the nations—many, once blind—now see.

Poetic Flash:

He was known— 
not whispered, not guessed, 
but flamed into vision, 
etched into the eyes of many.

They knew— 
not by study, 
but by the shudder of glory 
that does not ask permission to be seen.

Honey Drop 25: The Meal and the Messiah

eejoseph,

“Though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher.”

Isaiah 30:20 

The scene

A man fasts during a season of grief. No food comforts him. But each morning, he reads one verse aloud. His daughter hears him and begins to memorize them. Years later, she calls those mornings “the days we ate the Word.”

The comfort – the tension

Adversity is not starvation—it is sustenance. Affliction is not abandonment—it is preparation. The bread and water of suffering feed the soul until the Teacher appears. And when He does, you realize: He was the meal all along.

Sweetness Drop:  

You lived by bread. Now you live by Word. The Teacher is not hidden. He is the bread that came down.

Lexical Snapshot:  

– מוֹרֶה (Moreh) — Teacher, from יָרָה (yarah): to aim, instruct, direct.  

The Teacher is not just present—He is precise. He feeds, He guides, He reveals.  

The bread of adversity becomes the body of truth. The water of affliction becomes the well of life.

Honey Drop 24: The Scatter and the Still

eejoseph,

“Whether a tree falls to the south or to the north, in the place where it falls, there it will lie… Sow your seed in the morning and do not be idle in the evening, for you do not know…” Ecclesiastes 11:3–6 

The scene

A leader resigns quietly after years of service. No scandal, no ceremony. Just a final meeting, a closed laptop, and a walk into the woods. Months later, young artists gather in that forest, sketching beside the fallen tree where he used to pray.

The comfort – the tension

You do not know which sowing will succeed. You do not choose the direction of your fall. But the place you land—once still, once broken—can become a shelter. The fallen tree is no longer climbing, but it is hosting. Moss, nests, shade, memory.

The drop

Fall well. Lie long. Let your resting place become a frame for new life. 
Scatter in the morning. Scatter in the evening. Let futility be the frame, not the verdict.

Honey Drop 23: The Crumb and the Cry

eejoseph,

“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table”.
Matthew 15:27

The scene

She did not ask for the feast. 
She asked for the fragment. 
Not because she thought herself unworthy, 
but because she knew what a crumb could do.

The cry was not polite. 
It was persistent. 
It was not rehearsed. 
It was real.

The comfort – the tension

Faith is not always loud— 
but it is always heard. 
And mercy is not measured 
by portion, 
but by presence.

Even the crumbs carry power 
when they fall from the hand of Christ. 
Even the cry of an outsider 
can move the heart of heaven.

The drop

So cry out. 
Not for what you deserve, 
but for what He delights to give. 
The table is wide. 
And the crumbs are enough.