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A Moment of Wonder They say laughter is contagious. (And if it’s not, I’ve been fake-laughing at the wrong people for years.) But what if the real wonder isn’t in the laugh itself— but in the act of chareing it? Yes, I know. “Chare” is a typo. But I’m keeping it. It sounds like something between cheer and care, and honestly? That’s what laughter does. It cheers us up. It shows we care. It dances between people like a balloon caught in a breeze. And where does that kind of joy come from? Not from us. From Jehovah—the Happy God. He didn’t just design our mouths to smile— He wired our hearts to find joy. To spread it. To echo His own gladness. He could’ve made a silent world. He didn’t. He gave us music. He gave us voices. He gave us laughter. Proverbs 17:22 says, “A joyful heart is good medicine.” No warning label. No prescription needed. Just one dose, and it spreads. To the next person. And the next. And suddenly, the room feels lighter than it did before. So go ahead. Chare the laugh. Even if it started as a typo.

Jehovah May Allow the Bite—But Not the Poison to Win a little lesson Paul shakes the viper from his hand into the fire, unharmed—Acts 28:3–5. Jehovah’s power protected him, not from the trial, but through it. When the viper latched onto Paul’s hand, the onlookers were sure he was doomed. But Paul simply shook it off—and suffered no harm. Jehovah didn’t stop the snake from biting. But He did prevent the venom from having any effect. That moment reminds us: Jehovah may allow hardship to strike—but He will never allow it to defeat us. Deliverance doesn’t always come before the trial. Sometimes it comes through it. So if you’re facing something painful, frightening, or unexpected, remember—Jehovah hasn’t lost sight of you. The bite may come… but the poison won’t win. Reference bt, Chapter 26, ¶19–20 👉 Read on JW.org

a Scriptural Consideration entry He sat alone on a stone wall just outside the city. The scabs on his back still ached from his latest flogging, but the deeper wounds were elsewhere—betrayal, slander, disappointment. Paul had poured himself out for these congregations, risked his life again and again, only to be questioned, misrepresented, even opposed by those he called brothers. Was this the reward for his sacrifice? And yet… he would write to them again. He would visit again. He would call them “beloved.” Paul’s life was not defined by the pain others caused him but by the forgiveness he continually chose to give. When Mark disappointed him, Paul didn’t wall off his heart forever. Years later, he would call Mark “useful to me for ministering.” (2 Tim. 4:11) When Peter acted out of fear, Paul corrected him, yes—but then continued serving shoulder to shoulder with him. Paul endured being misjudged, yet he wrote passionately about the unity of the body of Christ. (Rom. 12:4, 5) “Continue . . . forgiving one another freely.”—Col. 3:13 So what about us? We, too, are surrounded by imperfect people—some impulsive, some fearful, some stubborn or critical. At times, the wounds from a brother’s words may seem deeper than those from the world. What will help us endure with peace and joy? The same thing that helped Paul: love. Love that remembers the good. Love that believes change is possible. Love that keeps reaching out, keeps serving, keeps forgiving. In our congregations, this kind of love does not come naturally. It must be cultivated through prayer, humility, and meditating on Jehovah’s own patience with us. (Ps. 103:10-14) Jehovah sees it every time we choose to let go of a grievance, to respond gently, or to trust again. He sees—and he smiles. Continue forgiving one another freely. The words are not a suggestion. They are a call to imitate the One who forgives most freely of all. Jehovah will never stop forgiving you. Will you, then, stop forgiving your brother? Let the peace of the Christ truly rule in your heart again. w24.03 15 ¶4-5

A Glimpses of Wonder Entry Stretching tens of thousands of miles across Saturn’s middle, the rings sweep outward like a shimmering halo — yet they are astonishingly thin. In most places, they are no deeper than 30 feet — about the height of a modest two-story building. Even if you expanded Earth to the size of Saturn, you could hardly recreate something so wide, yet so delicate. It’s as if Jehovah Himself brushed a perfect ribbon around the planet, like a bow across strings — a harmony no hand could ever match. But if we could somehow get close enough — closer than any telescope can truly show — we’d realize the rings aren’t smooth at all. They ripple and flutter, with tiny hills and valleys you can’t see from afar. They don’t just shimmer — they shimmer like vibration, like the tremble of sound on still water. Little moons tucked among the rings tug on the particles, pulling them slightly up or down. Even Saturn’s slow tilt toward the Sun draws out hidden waves, like a gentle breeze moving across a still pond. From Earth, the rings seem frozen and still — but up close, they play like a silent orchestra warming up, full of motion waiting to be heard. And the motion is breathtaking. Each tiny particle — from specks of dust to chunks of ice — travels on its own invisible racetrack, weaving around Saturn at its own pace. Particles nearer the planet whip around at nearly 48,000 miles per hour, racing all the way around Saturn in just seven hours, covering about 283,000 miles in that short time. Farther out, the travelers move more slowly — around 30,000 miles per hour — but their path is longer, circling Saturn in about fourteen hours, and sweeping through nearly 547,000 miles of space. None of the particles are stuck together. Each one orbits alone, yet together they form a celestial rhythm — millions of separate notes moving in time. Not crashing, not colliding — because the laws Jehovah designed from the beginning still guide them, every second. We can’t see all of this with our own eyes. We can’t hear the silent music they play. But just knowing it is there — that something so massive, so impossibly intricate, spins in perfect pitch around Saturn every day — stirs our heart to awe. When we gaze at an image of Saturn, we are not just seeing a planet. We are getting a glimpse into the wisdom of the one who made it — the one who notices even the smallest motion, and who composes quiet wonder into every orbit, including ours. Suggested Reading: The Hidden Flock of Saturn

A Scriptural Consideration Entry “Take into consideration what is fine from the viewpoint of all men.“—Romans 12:17 (NWT) The picnic table outside the office was always crowded this time of year. Mark set down his lunch next to Lisa and Ryan, the usual crew who liked getting fresh air instead of sitting in the breakroom. “Wait—you don’t celebrate birthdays?” Lisa said, half-laughing as she opened her soda. Ryan looked up too, curious but not critical. “Is that like… a religious thing?” he asked. Mark smiled, feeling that familiar tightness in his chest. These moments could go either way, but today, it didn’t feel hostile. Just honest curiosity. “Yeah,” Mark said, keeping his voice light, “it’s because of what the Bible shows. It’s not that I don’t celebrate people—I just try to do it a little differently.” Lisa nodded slowly, still thinking. “Huh,” Ryan said. “Never thought of it like that. That’s actually kinda cool.” The conversation drifted after that—weekend plans, the new bakery opening up downtown. Nothing tense. No awkward silence. Just a seed planted, maybe so small that no one noticed except Jehovah. It’s easy to see questions about our faith as a test or a trap. But Romans 12:17 reminds us: “Take into consideration what is fine from the viewpoint of all men.” Sometimes people aren’t looking for a debate—they’re looking for reassurance. Are you normal? Are you happy? Can I trust you? When we respond gently, with kindness instead of defensiveness (1 Peter 3:15), we reflect something powerful. Not just our own patience—but Jehovah’s. And maybe, just maybe, a simple conversation over sandwiches and soda becomes something far bigger later on. Jehovah doesn’t just call us to defend truth. He calls us to live it—with warmth, courage, and respect. —Watchtower September 2023, p. 17, ¶10-11

A Glimpses of Wonder Entry When Christiaan Huygens first pointed his homemade telescope at Saturn in 1655, he spotted something extraordinary: a tiny speck of light orbiting the distant planet. It was Titan, Saturn's largest moon — and for a long time, Titan was all we knew. One moon. One companion for that giant ringed world. But Jehovah’s creations often unfold in layers, only revealing their fullness when we are ready to see them. In the centuries that followed, astronomers found more: Iapetus, Rhea, Tethys, Dione. Imagine the wonder of staring into a telescope in the cold of night, searching among the stars, and finding a new world circling a planet more than 800 million miles away. Each discovery whispered that Saturn's story wasn't finished. Far from it. Today, Saturn's known family has exploded. As of recent observations, scientists estimate Saturn has about 274 moons— a breathtaking number! Not all are officially named, but they are there, orbiting faithfully. Some are large and round, like Titan, a golden world hidden behind a smoggy veil. Others are tiny, rough, and mysterious, barely distinguishable from specks of rock, possibly captured asteroids drawn in by Saturn’s immense gravity. They tumble and spin on wild, tilted paths, some even orbiting backward. It's a diverse, almost playful collection — a hidden flock encircling a planet we once thought had only one or two companions. And here's a striking insight: size doesn't matter when it comes to being called a moon. A natural satellite only needs to orbit its planet, held steady by gravity. Whether it is Titan's massive, haze-wrapped world or a jagged rock no wider than a city block, each one is counted. Each one, seen or unseen by human eyes, was known to Jehovah from the moment He set them in their courses. If we could float near Saturn — far beyond what the naked eye can glimpse and farther than any backyard telescope could reach — we would see an ethereal dance: Saturn suspended like a pale golden lantern in blackness, its rings whisper-thin and stretching tens of thousands of miles wide, and far beyond them, tiny dots of light arcing silently in slow motion. Each speck a moon. Each one a witness to Jehovah’s limitless imagination. How fitting that even now, in this advanced age, we are still finding more. Moons tucked into Saturn's shadowed folds, waiting patiently for the right moment to be seen. As Ecclesiastes 3:11 reminds us, Jehovah has "put eternity in their heart," yet humans "will never find out the work that the true God has made from start to finish." Each new moon discovery isn't just another object cataloged — it's a soft reminder that Jehovah’s creative works are far beyond our reach. The heavens are not just vast; they are alive with His design, layered with wonders we have yet to uncover. And isn't it thrilling to realize that for all eternity, there will always be more to discover? A future Glimpses of Wonder entry will explore another masterpiece surrounding Saturn: its majestic rings.

A Scriptural Consideration Entry “God will judge.“—Hebrews 13:4 (NWT) The hospital room was bright but heavy with tension. Quiet conversations floated down the hall, paperwork shuffled behind the curtain. A doctor leaned in, outlining “options” that clearly ignored Jehovah’s view of life and blood. It would’ve been easy to let fear rush decisions. But for a faithful Christian, the path is already clear—even when emotions swirl. Jehovah’s standards don’t shift with the moment. They stand, solid and sure. Blood belongs to Jehovah. It always has. (Leviticus 17:14) Right after the flood, when Noah and his family were given permission to eat meat, Jehovah made it unmistakably clear: blood was not theirs to take. (Genesis 9:4) He didn’t change later, either. Under the Mosaic Law, the command was firm. (Leviticus 17:10) And when the early Christian governing body met, guided by God’s spirit, they repeated the same decree for all followers of Christ: “keep abstaining . . . from blood.” (Acts 15:28, 29) Today, even with all the modern procedures and persuasive arguments, Jehovah’s standard hasn’t budged. Not even a little. And it’s not just about blood. His standards for morality are just as clear. Wrong fleshly desires don’t drift away on their own—they have to be fought. Paul used strong words: we need to “deaden” those urges. (Colossians 3:5) That means taking active steps, sometimes hard ones, to cut off anything that could drag us toward immorality. (Job 31:1) And let’s be real—sometimes that’s tough. The world shrugs off Jehovah’s view of life and purity like it’s “old-fashioned,” like it’s too rigid. But Hebrews 13:4 doesn’t leave any doubt: “God will judge.” Not society. Not doctors. Not social media. Jehovah alone. So when choices press hard, and the world’s voice gets loud, we remember: Jehovah’s voice is the only one that truly matters. His wisdom is pure. His ways are life. And his judgment is just—and close. We can stand firm. We will stand firm—with full confidence that Jehovah sees, remembers, and blesses those who hold to His standards, even when the world calls it foolishness. —Watchtower July 2023, p. 15, ¶5-6

A Scriptural Consideration Entry The morning sky was dark, but a pale golden light began to stretch across the horizon. A brother stepped onto his porch, breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. Though his body ached and his community felt frayed by violence and mistrust, he whispered aloud what had become his quiet anthem: “Soon. Jehovah has promised. Soon.” This kind of hope is not naïve. It is not wishful. It is guarding. It is anchoring. When the apostle Peter wrote to warn about lawless ridiculers, he did not say, “Prepare to fight them.” Instead, he said: “You, therefore, beloved ones, having this advance knowledge, be on your guard so that you may not be led astray with them by the error of the lawless people and fall from your own steadfastness.” (2 Peter 3:17) The real battle is internal—against indifference, fatigue, or the subtle drift from spiritual clarity. Peter had just reminded his readers that Jehovah’s day will come—not as a maybe, but as a certainty. (2 Pet. 3:10) And in that certainty, we are invited to hold fast—to visualize a clean world, a healed earth, and peace in every dwelling. (Isa. 32:18) Not merely as abstract doctrine, but as a daily meditation. What fills our mind, shapes our endurance. So what does guarding look like today? It may mean choosing meditation over media. It may mean reaching out to a discouraged brother rather than scrolling endlessly through newsfeeds. It may mean quietly reaffirming our hope when confronted with scoffing or cynicism. False teachers will twist Scripture to fit a different timeline—one where urgency is mocked and righteousness is optional. But we have “this advance knowledge.” We are not in the dark. And when we remember why we endure—when we picture our resurrected loved ones running into our arms, when we imagine teaching Abel or Esther or ones who never knew Jehovah—we find that hope doesn’t merely lift us. It protects us. It keeps us from drifting. It keeps us steadfast. So once again, we return to Peter’s words: Be on your guard… and do not fall. Jehovah has given us what we need to stand. He has told us in advance. And that means we can remain firm—held fast by the quiet strength of expectation. Watchtower citation: The Watchtower, September 2023, pp. 27–28, ¶5–6 Other Reading: “Critical Times Hard to Deal With” — Living Faithfully in a World That Won’t Wake Up A Shield of Loyalty in a Lawless Age Stay Within the Bounds of Jehovah’s Wisdom Let me know when you’re ready to begin the next entry.

A Glimpses of Wonder Entry There’s something strange happening out there, and it’s not hiding in the woods or floating past Saturn. It’s closer. Much closer. In fact, it’s lodged right between a headline and a hashtag. It’s the kind of thing you hear when someone leans forward and says with great conviction, "This is the first time this has happened since the last time it happened." Well. Stop the presses. We used to reserve the word “first” for fire, flight, and falling in love. Now it gets tossed around like free mints at the counter. First snow since last month’s snow. First time that team has won at home in a red jersey on a Thursday in over a year. First Tuesday since last Tuesday. We are drowning in firsts that are not firsts. It’s like we got bored with real wonder and decided to start spray-painting the word AMAZING on yesterday’s leftovers. Let’s rewind a bit. Imagine the second guy to light a fire. The first guy’s still standing there, holding a stick that’s somehow glowing and crackling and keeping wild animals slightly more confused than afraid. The second guy lights his fire and announces, “This is the first time we’ve had fire... since yesterday.” No one claps. No one cares. They just toss another stick on the flames and get back to not freezing to death. Same with the wheel. Maybe it took four to make anything roll, but it didn’t take long before somebody tried to reinvent it and claim credit for the whole invention. That’s how we got PowerPoint. And let’s talk about gravity. It didn’t start the moment Newton got bonked in the head by a falling apple. It had already been hard at work since the beginning—holding oceans in place, keeping birds grounded when necessary, and ensuring toddlers fell down just often enough to learn caution. Newton didn’t invent gravity. He just noticed it in a particularly fruit-forward way. Same thing with discovery. Columbus didn’t discover a land where people were already making soup. Leif Erikson might’ve beat him there. But truth be told, the folks already living on the land don’t get enough credit for being home when all these explorers arrived. If discovery means showing up and pointing at something someone else already owns, then I’ve discovered my neighbor’s lawn furniture twice this week. And then there’s technology. Remember your first cell phone? It had buttons. It probably flipped open. If you were fancy, it had a tiny antenna you could dramatically extend for better reception while trying to impress someone who wasn’t looking. And yes, you butt-dialed people. You did. We all did. But now? We have our first smartphone. Our first smart TV. Our first voice-activated AI that answers the doorbell and possibly judges our music taste. These aren’t new firsts. They’re sequels. Shinier, louder, software-updated sequels. And like most sequels, they don’t quite hit the same. You don’t have to hype the firsts. That’s it. Because some firsts are actually worth remembering—and they don’t come with a press release. They come with heart. Remember... the first car I called my own—it wasn’t the first car ever, or even new. My uncle had it before me. But it was mine, and somehow, it still smelled like freedom. Remember... the first time I kissed my wife—how everything else just fell away. Remember... the first time my wife gave birth—when love took on weight and breath. Remember... the first time I ate at Five Guys—when that first bite brought back the unmistakable taste of my grandmother’s hamburgers, and all the love that came with them. Remember... the first time I held my grandchild’s tiny hand—like time started over. Remember... the first time I realized I could still love more—when I thought I’d run out. And then there are Jehovah’s firsts. His first spirit son—the one who was beside Him "as a master worker." The first day light appeared. And He simply said it was good. The first plants. The first animals. The first man. The first woman—the first mind to think and feel like hers. And we all agree... It was good. And yes—I realize you probably read this... on the Internet. But don’t worry. It really is the first time I’ve ever written it (even if, technically, we’ve rewritten it eight times just trying to put it together).

A Scriptural Consideration Entry The flickering oil lamps cast long shadows across Delilah’s home, but the most dangerous shadow of all was the one Samson could not see. It curled quietly behind her smile, behind each gentle touch, behind every word that chipped away at his resolve. Time and again, she pressed him, saying, “How can you say, ‘I love you,’ when your heart is not with me?” (Judg. 16:15) And at last, weary and worn down, he yielded—he opened his heart. But not to Jehovah. Samson’s life was a record of contrasts: chosen from birth, yet drawn to Philistine women; filled with spirit-given strength, yet prone to human weakness. When he finally revealed his secret—that his Nazirite vow was the source of his strength—it wasn’t just his hair that was cut. His bond with Jehovah was severed. “Jehovah had departed from him,” the account says, and with that, his strength vanished (Judg. 16:20). The consequences were swift and brutal. Bound in bronze shackles, blinded, and forced to grind grain like a beast, the mighty judge became a spectacle—a fallen symbol paraded by the Philistines in mockery. (Judg. 16:21-25) How tragic that Samson, once a deliverer of Israel, now stood in chains, offering laughter to enemies of his God. We, too, are living under pressure—sometimes subtle, sometimes overwhelming—to open our hearts to people, ideas, or habits that pull us from Jehovah. Like Delilah, these influences may seem persistent but harmless at first. Yet if we do not guard our spiritual identity, we risk surrendering what is sacred for what is fleeting. We may not wear Nazirite locks, but we bear a sacred dedication. Trusting in human affection or approval more than in Jehovah can lead to spiritual blindness—gradual, but devastating. (Prov. 29:25; Jer. 17:5-7) Still, Samson’s story was not without redemption. In the darkness of his imprisonment, he turned his heart back to Jehovah. And Jehovah listened. (Judg. 16:28) Have you ever felt like your spiritual strength has ebbed—like you’ve drifted or made a decision that dimmed your closeness to Jehovah? It’s not too late. Even in the ruins, even in shame, even in weakness—Jehovah hears the sincere cry of his servant. Samson’s final act was not one of disgrace, but of faith restored. Jehovah had not abandoned him. He never abandons those who truly return to Him. He finally opened his heart… but let ours be opened to Jehovah first, last, and always. Watchtower, September 2023, pp. 5-6 ¶13-14 You May Also Enjoy These Scriptural Considerations: Faith Under Pressure – Quiet Courage and Godly Fear The Protective Power of Godly Fear Jehovah’s Standards Are Clear — and He Will Judge “Trembling at Men is a Snare” — A Story of Shadows and Courage “Be Reasonable, Displaying All Mildness Toward All Men.” —Titus 3:2

A Glimpses of Wonder Entry It was just a spoonful of peanut butter. I wasn’t trying to do anything special — just being a kid, enjoying a snack, hovering near my hamster’s tank. He was asleep, of course. Hamsters are like tiny, grumpy old men in fur coats who hate being disturbed before sundown. But then I breathed. Just a soft exhale through the wire cover, and suddenly the wood chips stirred. Not much, just a twitch — then a nose, rising like it was being drawn by invisible threads. It hovered there in the air, sniffing like it had a mission from above. That little pink triangle didn’t come charging out, didn’t make a sound — it just followed the scent, nose-first, as if the peanut butter had put a string on its soul. At the time, I didn’t think of it as anything more than funny. But now? I realize I was watching a kind of “nip moment.” We tend to think of “nip” as a cat thing — and it is, famously. Catnip contains a chemical called nepetalactone that triggers receptors in a cat’s nose, lighting up their brain like a pinball machine. What follows is unpredictable: some cats roll and chirp, others stalk invisible prey or suddenly decide your hand is made of ham. It doesn’t take much — just a sniff — and they’re off. But the idea of “nip” isn’t exclusive to cats. In fact, many animals have a scent, substance, or trigger that flips a behavioral switch. Some of those nips are stimulants. Others are calming. But the effect is always dramatic — and designed. Dogs, for instance, don’t usually respond to catnip. But give them a whiff of anise — the same stuff that gives licorice its kick — and you might see a whole new side of them. Anise is used in scent work, tracking games, and toy stuffing. Some dogs get goofy. Some get focused. A few get so wound up they need to go run it off. But that’s not their only “nip.” For many dogs, lavender or valerian root has the opposite effect — easing anxiety, slowing the breath, softening their entire demeanor. One nose, two gears. Just depends on the scent. Rabbits? Offer them dill, carrot tops, or even the scent of banana, and you might see behavior that looks almost ritualistic — sniffing, circling, standing on hind legs. It’s not quite joy, not quite hunger — but something that clearly matters to them. A trigger. Horses sometimes react to peppermint or chamomile. Elephants are drawn to lemongrass and ripe bananas, even from great distances. Pigs? Their legendary noses can unearth truffles buried beneath the forest floor — and they’ll do it with the same drive you’d see in a child diving for candy. And your average rodent — like that sleepy little hamster — doesn’t need a field of flowers to trigger a response. All it takes is the right smell. Peanut butter. Sunflower seeds. A whiff of pumpkin. It doesn’t send them into ecstasy, but it kicks off a whole different chain reaction: wake, sniff, search, find. A kind of built-in treasure hunt. That’s the thing about “nip.” It’s not just about being silly or zoned out. It’s about what moves you, on the deepest level. For some animals, it’s play. For others, it’s calm. For still others, it’s the thrill of the chase or the satisfaction of seeking. But in every case, it bypasses thought and hits instinct. A scent. A reaction. A moment of purpose. It’s easy to think this is just animal quirk — a party trick of evolution or an amusing coincidence. But that would miss something profound. The fact that each animal is wired so precisely to respond — not just to food, but to feeling — says something about their design. Their responses are tailored, fine-tuned. A dog isn’t just drawn to anise randomly. A cat isn’t just enchanted by catnip on a whim. These reactions exist because someone intended them to exist. Jehovah created living things with the ability to experience delight, calm, excitement — all through a breath of air. That’s not just engineering. That’s generosity. And for us, it’s another invitation to notice. To pause when a cat rolls on the carpet like it just found heaven. To smile when a dog sniffs the wind with sudden joy. To remember a little hamster nose breaking through the shavings, carried on invisible waves of peanut butter. Even the smallest creatures remind us: sometimes, all it takes to stir a soul… is a scent. 🐾 Sidebar: Why We Call It a “Nip” The term catnip comes from the plant Nepeta cataria, whose scent flips a switch in a cat’s brain — sometimes gently, sometimes chaotically. Over time, that effect gave rise to the casual word “nip” to describe anything that triggers a noticeable change in behavior with just a trace amount. Interestingly, the word “nip” is also used in everyday language for a very small bottle or a tiny sip of alcohol — a little that can go a long way. While that comparison might help explain the sudden mood shift we see in animals after just a whiff of their “nip,” it’s worth saying clearly: we’re not suggesting alcohol is a healthy or harmless source of joy. In fact, the beauty here is in the contrast. Jehovah designed animals to respond to simple, harmless triggers — like a scent from a flower, a puff of herb, or even a trace of peanut butter in the air. It’s a reminder that true joy doesn’t need to come from artificial highs. Sometimes, it just takes a whisper of design to stir the heart — and the paws.

A Scriptural Consideration Entry The wind kicked up dust along the barren path. Obadiah glanced behind him, his heart pounding—not out of fear of the king he served, but of the God he worshipped. Each footstep echoed a decision that could cost him everything. Yet hidden in a cave, a hundred prophets waited, fed and cared for by this man of quiet bravery. Why? Because “from his youth,” he had feared Jehovah. —1 Kings 18:3-4, 12 Obadiah wasn’t a prophet or a soldier. He wasn’t known for fiery confrontations or thunderous miracles. He served in the corrupt court of Ahab, a place drenched in idolatry and stained by the influence of Queen Jezebel. But behind palace walls, he quietly protected Jehovah’s prophets, risking his life with every meal he smuggled, every secret he kept. His loyalty wasn’t loud—but it was unwavering. —1 Kings 16:30-33; 18:13 Henri, a modern-day Obadiah, served faithfully in a land where our work was banned. He wasn’t outgoing by nature. But when spiritual famine threatened his brothers, Jehovah gave him the strength to act. Like Obadiah, Henri feared God more than man. And so he found courage he never thought he had. —Isaiah 41:10; Acts 5:29 Not every test of loyalty comes in the form of persecution. For some, it’s choosing honesty when dishonesty is rewarded. For others, it’s quietly caring for an ailing family member, week after exhausting week, while clinging to the hope that Jehovah sees. Courage isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it looks like slipping a spiritual magazine to a neighbor. Or being the one who keeps the Zoom room open when no one else shows up. Or standing alone in faith at school or at work. —Hebrews 6:10; Galatians 6:9 Courage, then, is born from fear—not of people, but of disappointing the One we love most. “Your servant has feared Jehovah from his youth.” This wasn’t a boast. It was a declaration of priority. Obadiah feared Jehovah more than death, more than kings, more than silence. That kind of fear builds courage quietly, deeply, and permanently. —Psalm 112:1,7 And if Jehovah could use a shy man named Henri—or a court official like Obadiah—he can use you. Not despite your personality, but through it. —2 Corinthians 12:9-10 Jehovah does not require loudness. He requires loyalty. —Micah 6:8 Watchtower citation: The Watchtower, June 2023, pp. 16–17, ¶9, 11

The question: What personal private thoughts about the new system would you be willing to unveil and share with all here on this site? It can be anything, it doesn't have to be "cool" or "inspiring", I am just genuinely curious to see how much time my brothers and sisters spend thinking about the new world. I often find myself daydreaming about it, I sometimes imagine that the Bible is my personal "tourist guide", so to speak. I try to picture in my mind's eye the landscape, the flora and fauna...I try to envision myself there...sitting in the warm sunshine holding my wife and enjoying the company of all of you...and the rest of Jehovah's clean society. I look at the qualities that I find in the Bible...love, humility, kindness, joy...I could go on and on. When I am in that place mentally...I can almost feel Jehovah's arms start to wrap around me...it's like he's thanking me for taking time to think about Him and his promises. I do not reveal this to many people, not because I'm ashamed of it...but because I feel it makes others ashamed if they cannot experience the same thing...and I do not want to see anyone feel sad because of something I expressed. I will sometimes sit back early in the morning on weekends and listen to gentle music with my eyes closed...letting my thoughts drift with the pulse of the rhythms. I don't get to do this often, but every single time I do...it helps me mentally and emotionally. (Yes, sometimes I fall asleep, but that's okay too, I wake up feeling refreshed😂). So, now that I have asked my question...I will share a personal thought that I had about the new system...and especially about one particular facet of it. Every year, we watch spring turn into summer, we watch the trees, flowers and other plants blossom and bloom...we watch as things turn from green to brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow before slowly fading into brown and dropping from plants of all shapes and sizes. We notice these things because they happen every year, and we live for maybe 100 years...for now. But in the new system...we will live...forever...and so even though we will probably never stop noticing the change of seasons...other changes will start to enter our minds and our viewpoints will start to expand and widen. For instance, please consider Isaiah 65:22: "They will not build for someone else to inhabit, Nor will they plant for others to eat. For the days of my people will be like the days of a tree, And the work of their hands my chosen ones will enjoy to the full." From this single verse, after meditating on it for some time...I came to the following conclusion that left me nearly speechless: Just as we watch the grass turn green and grow until we have to cut it in our yards...so too, at that time...we will watch entire forests arise around us...and we will eventually have to cut them down only to watch them grow for several more thousand years. So please, friends...if you would like to share a personal thought or more of your own...please do so...because I firmly believe in the power of personal expressions...they have the power to move us...and more importantly...such expressions can move even Jehovah, his Son and the millions upon millions of angels watching us with keen interest.

A Scriptural Consideration Entry “The former commandment is set aside because it is weak and ineffective.“—Hebrews 7:18 (NWT) There’s something haunting about a shadow. It hints at the real thing but never quite captures it. It stretches along the ground, bends with the light, but it has no voice, no strength of its own. For centuries, the Israelites walked alongside a shadow. Every sacrifice, every ritual under the Mosaic Law was a reminder: the true answer to sin had not yet come. Animals died, but guilt lingered. Hands washed, but hearts stayed stained. No matter how faithfully the Law was kept, it could only outline a hope—not deliver it. (Colossians 2:17) That’s why, when Jesus offered his perfect life, everything changed. The shadow gave way to the reality. Paul explained it clearly: the Law, with its sacrifices and rituals, was “set aside” because it was “weak and ineffective.” (Hebrews 7:18) It wasn’t designed to save forever. It was designed to point forward—to Him. And now, because of Jesus’ sacrifice, we have “a better hope”—one that actually draws us near to Jehovah, not just in symbol, but in real forgiveness and real relationship. (Hebrews 7:19) We don’t worship through shadows anymore. We don’t approach Jehovah nervously, wondering if our offering is enough. We come to Him through Christ—cleansed, welcomed, heard. But it’s easy, isn’t it, to sometimes live like we’re still under a shadow? To let guilt from past mistakes hang over us longer than Jehovah does. To think we need to “earn” His love with rituals, lists, perfect checkboxes. Paul’s words break through those fears: The old way is gone. The better hope has come. Jehovah wants us to understand the gift He has given—the arrangement that fully covers our sins—and approach Him boldly, humbly, and gratefully. No more living in shadows. We live in the light of Christ—the real, the lasting, the strong. —Watchtower October 2023, p. 25, ¶4-5

A Scriptural Consideration Entry “Do not go beyond the things that are written.“—1 Corinthians 4:6 (NWT) The phone buzzed again. Another article popped up. Another video claiming to know “what’s really going on.” It would’ve been easy to click—just for a second—to see if there was something we might be missing. It’s everywhere now. Endless headlines. Endless “urgent” warnings. But somewhere under all the noise, there’s that quiet reminder from Jehovah’s Word: “Do not go beyond the things that are written.” Truth be told, it’s nothing new. In the first century, the pressure to know “more” was already there. Smart-sounding philosophies. Influential teachers twisting old traditions, mixing them with bits and pieces of truth, and making it sound almost right. (Colossians 2:8) But almost right isn’t right. It was pulling hearts away from Jehovah, the only true Source of wisdom and peace. Today, Satan’s gotten louder. Flashier. He’s not standing in a marketplace or behind a scroll. Now it’s our screens, our feeds, our daily conversations. Conspiracies, rumors, theories that grab your emotions and won’t let go if you’re not careful. It’s all designed to make people feel uncertain, suspicious, divided. Distracted from where real hope comes from. So what about us? How do we stay safe when it feels like everyone else is chasing after something new? We stay planted—right where Jehovah put us. (Proverbs 3:5-7) We don’t pile on extra rules. We don’t pressure others about their personal decisions. We don’t run after some “special” knowledge outside of what Jehovah has already given. He’s already told us everything we need—not everything we might want to know, but everything we need to endure and have peace. And honestly, that’s enough. It’s more than enough. When that pull for “more” starts creeping in—more certainty, more control, more secret information—we can stop, breathe, and hear it again: “Do not go beyond the things that are written.” (1 Corinthians 4:6) Jehovah isn’t holding anything good back from us. His hand is steady. His Word is strong. And His love still gathers close everyone who trusts Him enough to stay inside the shelter He built—with no need to look for “better” walls somewhere else. —Watchtower July 2023, pp. 16–17, ¶11-12

a little lesson The test isn’t what we have, but how we view what we have—and what we prioritize. Jehovah provided for Israel in dramatic fashion—raining down quail until the camp was overflowing. But the miracle revealed more than just divine generosity. It exposed hearts. Some gathered obsessively, driven by selfish craving. The issue wasn’t the meat itself. It was the mindset. That lesson still holds. Greed isn’t exclusive to those with wealth. It can grip the poor too—those who are constantly longing, constantly comparing, constantly discontent. Jehovah didn’t condemn the act of collecting quail; He condemned the spirit behind it. (Num. 11:31–34) Whether our fridge is full or our bank account is bare, greed whispers the same lie: “You don’t have enough. You need more.” But Jesus flips that script. He urges us to store up treasures in heaven—to measure wealth by closeness to God, not by abundance of things. (Matt. 6:19–20; Luke 16:9) Greed is never just about money. It’s about trust. Do we trust Jehovah to give what we truly need? Reference The Watchtower (Study Edition), March 2025, Article 13, ¶8 👉 Read on JW.org

A Scriptural Consideration entry The child’s blanket stayed folded. The tent remained quiet. Sarah no longer laughed—not even bitterly. Years slipped by, each one a reminder that the promise had not yet come. But still, Abraham believed. He didn’t believe because things made sense. He believed because he knew Jehovah. By the time Isaac was born, Abraham was a hundred years old. His body was “already as good as dead,” and Sarah’s womb long past childbearing. Yet, as the apostle Paul wrote, “He did not waver in unbelief, but became powerful by his faith, giving God glory.” (Romans 4:20) This was not wishful thinking. It was confidence in Jehovah’s timing, Jehovah’s power, and Jehovah’s love. So what about us? We wait too. Some wait for justice. Some for peace. Some for a child who hasn’t come home. Others wait in the shadow of chronic illness or stand quietly in grief. We may wonder if the silence means the answer won’t come. But each return to our ministry, each quiet act of endurance, each prayer uttered without immediate relief—all of it becomes a living testimony: our faith is not in what we see. It is in who we know. Earlier in that same passage, Paul describes Jehovah as “the One who makes the dead alive and calls the things that are not as though they are.” (Romans 4:17) Faith like that doesn’t ignore the ache. It acknowledges it—and keeps going anyway. Abraham’s story was written for us. Not to make the wait easier, but to make it clearer. Jehovah sees. Jehovah hears. And Jehovah never forgets a promise. Even when your world is quiet, even when there’s no outward sign—walk on. The One who calls things into being is still speaking. —w12 3/15 p. 11 ¶13

a Scriptural Consideration entry It wasn’t just that David sinned. It was that he knew it, felt it, and begged Jehovah for help to change. “Stir within me a willingness to obey you,” he pleaded—because obedience didn’t always come naturally. (Ps. 51:12) For a man who loved Jehovah deeply, this was a striking admission. And yet, how refreshing. Because if someone like David—a man after Jehovah’s own heart—had to pray for the desire to obey, what does that say about us? It says we’re not broken for struggling. We’re human. The verse from James reminds us that godly wisdom produces an attitude of humility and readiness to yield. But yielding isn’t weakness. Obedience, especially in a rebellious world, takes strength. It means denying the cravings of the flesh, resisting Satan’s seductive whispers, and tuning out the world’s sneering disdain for submission. (2 Cor. 11:3; Eph. 2:2) “The wisdom from above is . . . ready to obey.” —James 3:17 Even Jesus “learned obedience” through the things he suffered. (Heb. 5:8) So it’s not surprising that we sometimes wrestle with it too—whether it’s a personal counsel we didn’t want to hear, a direction from the elders that touches a sore spot, or an inner war between pride and peace. So what about us? When Jehovah’s voice is clear—through his Word, his organization, or our conscience—do we want to obey? Or do we feel the tug to resist, justify, delay? When we struggle, we can pray like David did. “Stir within me a willingness…” Because obedience from the heart is what Jehovah treasures most. (Rom. 6:17) It is the fruit of wisdom from above. “The wisdom from above is . . . ready to obey.” So if we’re struggling, we’re still in the fight—and Jehovah sees our effort. He will bless every sincere prayer, every honest attempt, every faithful step. w23.10 6 ¶1

— a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ — Have you ever hit your “funny bone”? If so, you know it’s anything but funny. That sudden jolt of tingling pain shoots down your arm, stopping you mid-sentence and stealing your breath away—like some invisible prankster jabbed a lightning rod into your elbow. But here’s the twist: it’s not even a bone. The so-called funny bone is actually the ulnar nerve, and it runs just under the skin at your elbow, right near the humerus—the upper arm bone. That’s where the pun comes in: humerus, humorous. A clever wordplay. But for anyone who’s knocked it against a table edge or car door, it’s a punchline that doesn’t land. Still, think about what’s happening beneath the surface. That little nerve runs from your neck, past your elbow, all the way into your hand—serving your ring and pinky fingers. Its exposure at the elbow makes it vulnerable… but also a marvel. And that zap you feel when you bump it? That’s not electricity—it’s your ulnar nerve being compressed. Unlike most nerves that are cushioned deep inside your body, the ulnar nerve passes through a shallow groove near your elbow, just under the skin. So when it gets struck or pinched, your brain interprets the sudden pressure as a burst of intense sensation—sometimes sharp, sometimes tingling, often unpleasant. It feels like electricity, but it’s really your nervous system doing its job… loudly. Like the others, the ulnar nerve carries signals that let us feel touch, temperature, and texture, especially in the pinky and part of the ring finger. These nerves also work together in a deeper way—contributing to our sense of proprioception, the awareness of where our body parts are without needing to see them. That built-in awareness—being able to find our hand in the dark or adjust our grip without thinking—speaks to a design that is quiet, intelligent, and purposeful. While the ulnar nerve runs along the inside of the arm and controls much of the pinky and ring fingers, it’s not working alone. Two other major nerves help complete the hand’s coordination. The median nerve travels down the center of the forearm and passes through the carpal tunnel in the wrist—a narrow passage formed by bones and ligaments—before reaching the thumb, index, middle, and part of the ring finger on the palm side. The radial nerve runs along the back of the arm, branching out to extend the wrist and fingers and provide sensation to the back of the hand. But among the three, it’s the ulnar nerve—unprotected and placed so near the surface—that demands our attention most dramatically. It reminds us, often with a jolt, just how finely tuned our body’s design really is. So while all three nerves deserve credit, it’s the ulnar nerve, tucked just beneath the skin and easily overlooked, that stands out. When it’s not playing tricks at the elbow, it’s doing something remarkable: connecting us to the world with grace and precision. Not humorous—but humbling. A small voice in the body that quietly reveals Jehovah’s thoughtful craftsmanship. The apostle Paul once wrote that “God composed the body” in a way that gives even our less glamorous parts special care. (1 Corinthians 12:24) We humans might find a play on words between humerus and humorous, but what truly deserves our awe is the craftsmanship behind it all. The structure of the arm, the path of the ulnar nerve, and the body’s ability to send warning signals—these weren’t built for laughs. They were built for life. And every detail points to a Creator whose care runs deeper than even our nerves.

A Glimpses of Wonder Entry We often speak of Saturn’s luminous rings — delicate, shimmering, and vast — as though that were her defining feature. And to be fair, they are breathtaking: a band of icy particles sweeping more than 170,000 miles from end to end, yet no thicker than a two-story building. They gleam against the dark like spun glass, and within their span, you could lay two Earths side by side with room to spare. But Saturn is so much more than her jewelry. She is a world of staggering scale and quiet strength, a place where gravity doesn’t just pull — it sculpts. Everything about her testifies to the brilliance of Jehovah’s design: her rings held delicately in plane, her moons following careful paths, her atmosphere wrapped around her like silk drawn tight. Saturn is massive — over nine times wider than Earth, and able to hold more than 760 Earths within her golden volume. And yet, in the company of giants, she’s still not the largest. That title goes to Jupiter, whose bulk is more than double Saturn’s mass. Still, Saturn does not need to outmatch Jupiter to be awe-inspiring. Her presence in the solar system is serene, but firm. Despite the constant stream of solar wind — particles racing outward from the sun at over a million miles per hour — Saturn’s gravity holds her world together. She doesn’t lose her clouds to space. She doesn’t let her rings unravel. Every particle, every storm, every frozen moonlet stays in place, orbiting in perfect obedience to invisible laws of balance. And beneath those golden clouds? Layers upon layers of changing substance. Saturn’s upper atmosphere is mostly hydrogen and helium — gases we think of as light and airy. But as you descend, those gases begin to behave like liquids, thickening under the pressure until they form seas of metallic hydrogen. The transition isn’t sudden. There’s no splash. Just a deepening hush — like sinking into an unseen ocean. Below it all lies a core, likely made of rock and ice, ancient and unreachable, wrapped in heat and weight beyond our ability to withstand. We cannot stand on Saturn. And we were never meant to. That, perhaps, is the point. Not every world was created for us to explore with our feet. Some were crafted to stretch our imagination, to lift our eyes, to stir our hearts. We admire Saturn not because she offers us a place to walk, but because she reveals a place to wonder. A planet we cannot touch still touches us. Her rapid spin — just over 10 hours per rotation — sends her bands whirling in gold and cream. Her magnetic field shields her space. Her dozens of moons, each unique, trace silent paths through her reach. And all of it — all of it — holds together only because Jehovah holds it so. Next to Saturn, Earth feels small. But Earth is where we live — where we breathe, walk, and look up into the night sky. And when we look up, Saturn’s pale light reminds us that the universe wasn’t thrown together. It was built, with care. And Saturn, steady and strong, is just one of the many signs. If you enjoyed reflecting on the majesty of Saturn in this article, you might also appreciate our two earlier glimpses into her wonders. Explore the intricate beauty of her rings in Saturn’s Rings: A Sculpted Wonder and meet some of the lesser-known treasures orbiting her in The Hidden Flock of Saturn.

Scriptural Consideration “A true friend shows love at all times.” —Proverbs 17:17 The prison was cold. Damp. Loud with the clanging of chains and the murmurs of the condemned. And yet, in that dim Roman cell, Paul was not alone. A brother sat nearby—not by command, not by necessity, but by choice. Aristarchus, the Macedonian from Thessalonica, had followed Paul through riot, storm, and shipwreck, and now, quietly, he shared in Paul’s chains. Their bond wasn’t built on shared hobbies or convenience. It was forged in fire—in the mob at Ephesus (Acts 19:29), through plots in Greece (Acts 20:2-4), across the violent seas to Rome (Acts 27:1, 2, 41). Aristarchus didn’t fade when it got dangerous. He didn’t retreat when the crowds turned cruel. Instead, he stayed. When others might have fled to comfort or safety, Aristarchus stepped closer to the struggle. So what about us? In a time when many choose friends who entertain or flatter, Jehovah calls us to something deeper. True Christian friendship isn’t measured by laughs or ease, but by loyalty. Do we walk beside our brothers and sisters when they’re misunderstood, sick, or shamed? Are we there when the calls stop coming, when others pull away? Like Aristarchus, we can bring warmth into cold places—not with eloquence, but with presence. Many of us know a brother who’s faltering, a sister who’s weary. They may not say it aloud, but they are longing for someone to sit beside them—not with answers, but with love. Loyalty doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it whispers, “I’m still here.” A true friend shows love at all times. Jehovah treasures that kind of loyalty, and He notices it—even if no one else does. The world may overlook the Aristarchuses among us. But Paul didn’t. And neither will Jehovah. Let’s be the kind of friend who walks in… when everyone else walks out. —w20.01 9 ¶4-5

A Scriptural Consideration Entry The sandals of the traveler scraped against the dust of Canaan’s paths. Abraham lifted his gaze toward the stars—too many to count, scattered like diamonds across the night sky. It was here, under this vast and quiet canopy, that Jehovah uttered a staggering promise: “So your offspring will become.” (Gen. 15:5) Abraham believed. And Jehovah, in turn, “counted it to him as righteousness.” No priesthood. No Law. No tablets of stone. Just trust—a full-bodied, resolute trust in Jehovah’s word. Genesis 15:6 The apostle Paul drew this moment from the ancient scrolls and laid it before his fellow believers with trembling clarity. In a time when some clung to the Law’s rituals, Paul reminded them that Abraham was declared righteous not because of meticulous observance, but because of unshaken faith. Long before circumcision or commandments, Jehovah looked into Abraham’s heart and found belief. That belief—not works of law—was what He approved. Galatians 3:11 So what does that mean for us, who live far from Ur or Sinai? It means that a righteous standing with Jehovah is not out of reach. We do not climb to it on a ladder of legal performance or impossible perfection. Instead, we reach it through faith—living, growing, proving faith. This faith is not idle. As James reminds us, it breathes and moves through our actions. (Jas. 2:17-24) It comforts the sick, bears with the weak, holds to honesty, forgives from the heart. These are not “works of law,” but works of love—evidence that our faith is real. Galatians 5:6 There are days when our shortcomings feel louder than our progress. We may wrestle with guilt, especially when chronic illness, grief, or limitations keep us from doing as much as we wish. But here lies our reassurance: Jehovah sees the inner person. He counts righteousness apart from works—not apart from effort, but apart from merit. He sees what we strive for, not just what we complete. Faith like Abraham’s still finds favor in His eyes. Psalm 103:13-14 Paul described this beautifully when he wrote that God “counts righteousness apart from works.” (Rom. 4:6) That is not to say that our effort doesn’t matter—but rather that divine approval is never something we earn. It is something Jehovah grants to those who exercise loyal faith, just as Abraham did. And that, dear reader, is something Jehovah never overlooks. Hebrews 11:6 Watchtower, December 2023, pp. 3 ¶8; 4–5 ¶10–11 You Might Also Enjoy: “Let Each One Examine His Own Actions” — The Quiet Strength of Personal Faith “My Soul Magnifies Jehovah” — The Quiet Strength of Spiritual Independence

A Scriptural Consideration Entry A crowded hallway. A sharp comment. A student scoffs, “You still believe in God? That’s ridiculous.” Another adds, almost offhandedly, that Jehovah’s Witnesses are “outdated,” especially on moral stuff. In moments like these, you might just freeze up. Or maybe your instinct is to fire back. But what if, instead of reacting, we respond—with mildness? Paul told Titus to remind the congregation to be peaceable and considerate, showing “all mildness toward all men.” That wouldn’t have been easy back then, either. They lived in a time when people didn’t hold back their opinions, not that they do now. But Christians stood out—not because they were loud, but because they were calm. Gentle. Steady. Today, it might be a classmate who questions our beliefs—maybe suggesting we should “update” our views on homosexuality. That can sting. It’s tempting to feel like we’ve been put on trial. But instead of going on the defensive, we can say plainly—and kindly—that we respect everyone’s right to make personal decisions. (1 Peter 2:17) And maybe, in time, we can share how the Bible’s moral guidance has protected us from heartache. We don’t have to “win” anything; our tone says more than our answers sometimes. (Isaiah 1:18) Even if someone says they don’t believe in God, we shouldn’t assume they’ve studied the subject. Maybe they just heard it from someone else—or it’s just what “smart people” are supposed to say, right? So instead of shutting the conversation down, maybe we could offer something from jw.org—just a thought, not a debate. Who knows? It might stick. “Be reasonable…” It’s not flashy. But in Jehovah’s eyes, it’s powerful. The quiet confidence. The way we talk. The way we treat others. All of it adds up. And Jehovah notices. Watchtower, September 2023, pp. 17–18, paragraphs 12–13

A Scriptural Consideration Entry “Honor your father and your mother.” —Exodus 20:12 A Scriptural Consideration Entry The sun was already low over Jerusalem, throwing long shadows through the courtyards. The festival was over. People were packing up, walking home in clusters, tired but full of joy. It should’ve been a simple journey. But somehow—Jesus wasn’t with them. He wasn’t lost. He wasn’t hiding. He was right where he felt he needed to be—in his Father’s house, deep in thought, asking questions, listening, absorbing. His parents, though—Joseph and Mary—they were panicking. When they finally found him after days of searching, it was Mary who spoke first. She didn’t say, “Oh, there you are,” or “We were so worried.” She said, “Why did you do this to us?” (Luke 2:48) Now pause there. How many of us, even at twelve, wouldn’t have wanted to speak up—to explain, to defend, maybe even to say, “That’s not fair”? But Jesus didn’t. He simply said, “Didn’t you know I had to be in the house of my Father?” That’s all. No drama, no attitude. And then? He went home with them. And remained obedient. (Luke 2:51) It says they didn’t even understand what he meant. And yet, Jesus still chose to honor them. That hits deep. Especially if you’re a young one reading this—if you’ve ever felt misunderstood or unheard, if your parents have made decisions that didn’t make sense to you, or maybe even blamed you unfairly. That can sting. But think about this: Jesus gets it. He literally lived it. And he still chose obedience. Not because his parents were always right, but because his Father—Jehovah—was always watching. Always pleased. Colossians 3:20 says: “Children, be obedient to your parents in everything, for this is well-pleasing to the Lord.” Not “in everything as long as it makes sense.” Just… everything. That doesn’t mean it’s always easy. But it does mean it matters. When you obey—even when it’s hard—you’re not just being a good son or daughter. You’re making Jehovah smile. And that counts for a lot. Because he sees. He knows. And just like that day in Jerusalem, he never loses sight of you. Watchtower, October 2023, pages 7-8, paragraphs 5-6

A Scriptural Consideration Entry “Death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore.” —Revelation 21:4 A young woman kneels by a graveside, fingers trembling as they trace the carved letters of a name now silent. The air is thick with the ache of questions: “Why him? Why now? Will I ever see him again?” For those who grieve, promises can feel like paper boats in a storm—fragile, sinking beneath the weight of sorrow. But Jehovah’s promises are nothing like that. They are anchors—unchanging, immovable, strong enough to steady even the heaviest heart. In the closing vision of Revelation, the apostle John peers into a future so stunning it almost defies description. He sees a restored earth—no cemeteries, no emergency rooms, no tear-soaked farewells. “Death will be no more.” That’s not a metaphor. It’s not a temporary reprieve. It’s a decree from the One seated on the throne, the Alpha and the Omega, who declares: “Look! I am making all things new.” Why can we believe it? Because the voice behind that promise is not a politician’s. It is not a wistful poet’s. It is Jehovah’s—“the God who cannot lie” (Titus 1:2). He invites us to lean on his track record: the flood survived, the sea split, the captives freed, the Son resurrected. And then he adds, with unmistakable force: “Write, for these words are faithful and true.” (Rev. 21:5) These are not drafts. They are declarations. So what about today, when the ache of grief still pulses through our chest or when pain insists on being our shadow? We remind ourselves—and others—that Jehovah did not merely say, “It will get better.” He said, “It will end.” He has already seen that day. In his eyes, it’s as good as done: “They have come to pass!” (Rev. 21:6) Return again to that verse. Death will be no more. Say it slowly, as if tracing a future reality with your soul. No more pain. No more sobs muffled into a pillow. No more graveside goodbyes. Only reunions. Only joy. Only life. Jehovah will do this. And when he does, not one tear will have been forgotten. Not one cry unheard. For the God who sits on the throne remembers every heart that has ever broken—and he promises to mend them all. Watchtower, November 2023, pages 3–5, paragraphs 3–5

Cats have an extraordinary ability to twist in midair and land gracefully on their feet, even after falling from great heights. This is not magic or a supernatural event, but rather a remarkable physical process that can be explored and understood through science. The reason cats can do this lies in a unique combination of their inner ear, spine flexibility, and physics. It’s a skill called the righting reflex, and it kicks in as soon as a cat begins to fall. Scientists have spent over a hundred years studying how this works, leading to insights in everything from human balance to robotics. The Righting Reflex: How Cats Flip Themselves Over The secret to a cat’s landing begins with its vestibular system, which is found in the inner ear. This system works like a tiny biological gyroscope, constantly telling the cat’s brain which way is up. The moment a cat starts to fall, its brain recognizes that it is upside down and sends signals to the muscles, prompting it to start twisting its body. A cat's spine is one of the most flexible in the animal kingdom. Unlike humans, who have limited mid-air control, a cat can rotate the front and back halves of its body independently. As soon as a cat begins to fall, it turns its head to face the ground, then twists its front legs in one direction while rotating its back legs in the opposite direction. This movement follows the laws of physics, particularly the conservation of angular momentum, which means that a cat can rotate in midair even without pushing off a surface. When it nears the ground, the cat stretches out its legs to slow its fall, increasing air resistance like a parachute. As it lands, its legs bend deeply, absorbing the shock of impact. This is why cats, even after a significant fall, often walk away unharmed. However, if the height is too low, the cat might not have enough time to react, which is why falls from short distances can sometimes cause injury. The Myth of the Tail: Is It Necessary for Landing? Many people assume that a cat’s tail plays a crucial role in this reflex, but this isn’t true. While the tail does help with balance when a cat is running or jumping, it is not necessary for the righting reflex. Tailless cats, like the Manx breed, still perform the same mid-air twist and land safely. Instead of relying on their tails, they use their inner ear and spine flexibility to control their motion. High Falls: The Cat Paradox Can a Cat Suffer Internal Injuries from a Fall? Absolutely. While their righting reflex and flexible limbs help distribute impact forces, they cannot fully prevent internal injuries in higher falls. Veterinarians have treated cats that fell from great heights, especially from buildings—a phenomenon sometimes called “high-rise syndrome.” Despite their ability to land on their feet, cats can suffer internal trauma upon impact. Their lungs may bruise due to sudden compression, and their diaphragm can tear as abdominal organs push upward. The liver and spleen, being dense and vulnerable, may sustain damage as well. Even though the legs absorb much of the landing force, if a cat’s head or chest makes contact with the ground, fractures in the jaw or ribs can still occur. Why Do Some High Falls Seem Safer for Cats? Veterinary studies have observed that cats falling from greater heights sometimes fare better than those falling from lower levels. This is likely because when a cat falls from more than five stories high, it reaches terminal velocity, meaning it no longer accelerates. At this point, it can spread its limbs outward, slowing the descent and allowing for a more controlled landing. Additionally, at greater heights, cats may have more time to adjust their posture and relax their bodies, which can help in reducing injury upon impact. However, internal injuries remain a risk. Even when a cat appears unharmed on the outside, the forces involved in a fall can still cause unseen damage within the body. Because of this, it is always best to have a fallen cat examined by a veterinarian to ensure there are no underlying injuries. Veterinary studies have observed that cats falling from higher than five stories sometimes fare better than those falling from just a few stories. This is likely because: They reach terminal velocity (the speed at which falling no longer accelerates), allowing them to spread their limbs and slow the fall. They relax more at higher falls, reducing stiffness that could increase injury. However, even in high falls, internal injuries are still a risk. The "third impact" still happens inside their bodies, meaning that just because a cat can walk away from a fall doesn’t mean it is unharmed. What have we learned? Cats' ability to land softly reduces but does not eliminate the risk of internal injuries. The three-collision rule still applies—just on a different scale. If a cat falls from a high place, it’s always best to get it checked by a vet, even if it seems fine on the outside. One of the most surprising scientific discoveries about cats is that they often survive higher falls better than shorter ones. This has been observed by veterinarians who have studied cats that have fallen from different heights. Falls from 2-6 stories are often more dangerous than falls from 7 stories or higher. The reason for this is that a falling cat reaches terminal velocity—the fastest speed it can fall—after about five stories. Once a cat reaches this speed, it relaxes and spreads out its legs, which slows its descent, much like a skydiver spreading their arms and legs to control their fall. In shorter falls, they don’t have enough time to do this, making injuries more likely. This discovery, often called the cat paradox, seems to defy common sense but has been confirmed by real-life cases. What Other Animals Have Similar Abilities? Although cats are famous for their ability to twist and land upright, they aren’t the only animals with impressive mid-air skills. Squirrels and lemurs use similar techniques when jumping between trees, relying on quick body rotations to control their landings. Human gymnasts also use similar physics when performing flips, adjusting their limbs to increase or decrease spin speed. NASA has even studied the way cats twist in free fall to understand how astronauts might move in space, where there is no gravity to assist with reorientation. Science and Technology Inspired by Cats The way cats land has fascinated scientists for decades, leading to many real-world applications. Engineers and roboticists have studied the mechanics of a cat’s landing to design robots that can flip themselves upright after falling. In medicine, researchers have examined how the righting reflex might help prevent injuries in elderly peopleby improving balance training techniques. Even space exploration has taken inspiration from cat movement, helping astronauts better understand how to move in a weightless environment. Jehovah’s Wisdom in Creation Looking at how a cat’s body works, it’s impossible to ignore the brilliance behind its design. Jehovah, the Creator of all living things, designed cats with incredible balance, reflexes, and flexibility. Everything about them—from their precisely tuned inner ear to their shock-absorbing limbs—shows careful planning. No random process could have created such a finely tuned system. The way cats survive falls and move with elegance is just another reflection of the wisdom and power of their Creator. Just like the rest of the natural world, they are a testament to Jehovah’s perfect design, giving us even more reason to appreciate the marvels He has made. The Final Word The mystery of how cats always land on their feet has fascinated humans for centuries. Thanks to scientific research, we now understand that this ability is the result of a combination of biology, physics, and engineering. Their highly sensitive vestibular system detects their orientation, their flexible spine allows them to twist in midair, and their natural parachute-like stance helps them control their fall. Even high-tech robots and astronauts have learned from their movements. And beyond science, their incredible abilities remind us of the wisdom behind their creation. Jehovah designed them with perfection, and it’s just one more reason to admire the wonders of the world He has made. Sources Veterinary Studies on Feline High-Rise Syndrome – Research on internal injuries in cats after falls. Biomechanics Research on Impact Forces – Studies examining how falls affect internal organs in animals. Étienne-Jules Marey’s Motion Studies (1894) – One of the first studies on how cats land. NASA Zero-Gravity Experiments – Research on how cats move in weightlessness. Veterinary Studies on Feline Falls – Studies showing that higher falls often result in fewer injuries. Biomechanics Research – High-speed motion capture analysis of cat movement. Robotics Research Inspired by Cats – Using feline mechanics in self-righting robots.