Hey friends, welcome back to the podcast. Thanks for making space in your day to tune in—I know how busy life can get. Whether you're driving, walking the dog, doing dishes, or just taking a minute to breathe, I’m glad you’re here.

Today I want to walk us through something that honestly hit me pretty hard. It’s a message Pastor Aaron gave on the book of Jude. It’s a short book—just one chapter—but man, it is dense. It’s the kind of passage that doesn’t just inform you, it stops you in your tracks. Convicts. Refocuses.

The theme we’re digging into today is this: "Contend Earnestly." And right away, that might sound a little intense. It is. But not in a scary way. It’s actually a deeply hopeful, empowering message. Jude calls us to fight—not with weapons or fists, but with faith. To fight for something, not just against something. That something? Our walk with Jesus. Our intimacy with Him. Our dependence on Him.

Part 1: The Drift Is Real

Pastor Aaron opened with this raw and relatable story from his time as a commercial fisherman in Bristol Bay. He described how, over time, he found himself slowly being shaped by the culture around him. Not in a dramatic “I walked away from everything” kind of way—but in that subtle drift that most of us know all too well.

And I resonated with that, because we’ve all had those seasons, right? Where we wake up one day and think, “Wait… how did I get here?” Maybe our attitude has shifted. Our language. Our media choices. Our priorities. Sometimes we don’t even notice until we’re already knee-deep in compromise.

That’s the quiet danger Jude is addressing. He says people have “crept in unnoticed.” This isn’t an external threat—it’s something subtle. Something inside the church. Inside our communities. Inside us, even. The way you get pulled into a different way of thinking… the way faith becomes background noise… the way sin starts to sound like “just being honest.”

So Jude says: Contend earnestly for the faith.

Let’s slow that down: contend—that’s active. It means to fight, to struggle, to press in. And earnestly—with sincerity, with effort, with intention. Not casually. Not halfway.

This isn’t about being paranoid or hyper-religious. It’s about being aware of the spiritual battle around us—and in us. The current of culture pulls hard, and if we’re not paddling upstream, we’re drifting.

Part 2: Three Warnings – Cain, Balaam, Korah

Jude gives us three names as warnings: Cain, Balaam, and Korah. These aren’t just Bible trivia answers—they represent real dangers for our spiritual lives.

Let’s talk about Cain first. His story is one of anger, yes—but really, it’s about resentment and entitlement. Cain brings a sacrifice to God that isn’t accepted. His brother Abel brings one that is accepted. And Cain gets angry—not just at God, but at Abel.

So, let’s rewind to Genesis 4. Cain and Abel are the first sons of Adam and Eve. Cain works the ground, Abel tends flocks. They both bring offerings to God—Cain brings some of his crops, Abel brings the firstborn of his flock.

But here’s the thing: God accepts Abel’s offering and rejects Cain’s.

And that’s where things start to unravel.

Cain gets angry. Really angry. Genesis says, “his face was downcast.” And God meets him in that moment. He doesn’t ignore Cain—He actually speaks to him:

“Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door. It desires to have you—but you must rule over it.”

That’s huge. God is warning Cain—“You’re at a crossroads. You’ve got a choice. Don’t let this anger master you.”

But Cain doesn’t listen. Instead, he lets that anger fester… and he murders his brother.

So, fast forward to the New Testament—Jude references Cain as a warning to believers. He’s saying: watch out for this pattern. The way of Cain isn’t just about one bad decision—it’s a heart posture that starts small and spirals fast.

And honestly? I see that in myself more than I’d like to admit.

Cain was angry at God… but took it out on someone else.

He felt rejected… and rather than humbling himself, he doubled down in bitterness.

He didn’t want to change—he wanted to be right.

Can you relate to that?

I know I can. There have been moments where I’ve been frustrated with God—not out loud, maybe, but under the surface. Times when I felt like, “I’m doing my best, and it’s not enough.” Or I’ve compared myself to someone else and felt that sting of resentment.

And that’s where the way of Cain starts: in the quiet corners of the heart, where disappointment and entitlement and anger take root.

Here’s the thing about anger—it always feels justified. That’s what makes it so dangerous.

We tell ourselves, “I have a right to feel this way.” And sometimes, that’s true. Injustice is real. Hurt is real. But if we don’t deal with anger God’s way, it becomes a lens we view everything through.

Cain couldn’t celebrate Abel’s success because he was too focused on his own rejection. He let comparison lead to contempt. And instead of taking his pain to God, he took it out on his brother.

James 1:20 says,

“Human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”

We may think our anger is productive—that it fuels us, or protects us—but often, it actually blinds us. It pushes us further from God and closer to destruction.

So let me ask: Is there anger crouching at your door right now?

Is there bitterness you’ve been feeding?

A wound you haven’t brought to God yet?

Here’s what got me—God actually warns Cain. He says, “Sin is crouching at your door… but you must master it.” In other words, “You’re at a crossroads. You don’t have to go this way.”

God didn’t abandon him. He didn’t write him off. He actually pursued him in the middle of his anger.

That tells me something important: God is not afraid of our raw emotions. He welcomes honesty. But He does call us to respond.

God said, “If you do what is right, won’t you be accepted?”

In other words—Cain, you’re not stuck. You’re not too far gone. Just bring the right heart. Choose the better way.

There’s a tender invitation in that. And it’s the same invitation God extends to us when we’re angry, frustrated, or hurting: Come back to me. Let me realign your heart.

But Cain chooses bitterness. Jealousy. Violence.

And how often do we do the same? Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. Holding onto anger because “it’s not fair,” or “they don’t deserve grace.” We let frustration fester until it colors the way we see everything.

Jude is waving the flag here: if anger is crouching at your door—don’t open it. Don’t feed it. Contend earnestly by surrendering your resentment and submitting it to Jesus.

So what does it look like to contend earnestly in light of Cain’s story?

First—we get honest.

We ask the Holy Spirit to search our hearts and reveal where we’re holding onto offense or entitlement.

Second—we bring it to God.

Not in polished prayers, but in raw, real, “this is where I’m at” moments.

Third—we surrender.

We choose humility over justification. Faith over frustration. We trust that God sees us, and that His way really is better—even when it doesn’t feel fair.

And finally—we remember the cross.

Because the blood of Abel cried out for justice… but the blood of Jesus cries out for mercy. And that’s our hope. Not that we’ve never wrestled with anger—but that we have a Savior who died to free us from it.

Next up is Balaam. This one’s all about appetite. Balaam was a prophet who looked the part. Said the right things. Even heard from God. But deep down? He wanted something more than he wanted obedience.

So, let’s rewind a look at the Old Testament for a minute. Balaam shows up in Numbers 22–24. He’s a prophet—not an Israelite—but a man known for hearing from God.

At this point in the story, Israel is moving through the wilderness, and they’re approaching the land of Moab. The king of Moab, a guy named Balak, sees this massive crowd coming and freaks out. So, he does what any desperate ancient king might do—he sends messengers to Balaam with a big pile of cash and says, “Come curse these people for me.”

Balaam checks with God, and God says, “Nope. These are my people. You’re not cursing them.” So Balaam says no.

But then Balak sends more messengers—with more money. And Balaam’s like, “Let me just ask God again…”

Red flag, right?

God lets Balaam go, but with limits: “Only say what I tell you to say.” That should be enough. But the next few chapters reveal something deeper. Balaam says he’s obeying God, but his heart is clearly still attached to the reward.

What’s so striking about Balaam’s story is how subtle the compromise is.

He’s not out here openly rebelling against God. He’s not building idols or leading revolts. He’s just… hesitant. Willing to bend what God said. Motivated by the payout. He keeps walking the line between obedience and desire.

And honestly? That’s where a lot of us live.

We’re not shaking our fists at God. But we’re asking, “How close can I get? How far can I go? Can I still follow Jesus andhold onto this thing I want so badly?”

That’s Balaam’s error.

It’s not just about money. It’s about appetite—whether that’s money, approval, control, pleasure, influence… whatever it is that pulls our loyalty from God. And when we try to manage that appetite—keep it on a leash, feed it just enough to keep it quiet—it eventually pulls us into compromise.

But here’s the part that really hit me.

In Numbers 22–24, Balaam doesn’t curse Israel. In fact, every time he opens his mouth, he blesses them—because that’s what God tells him to do.

On the surface, it looks like he passed the test.

But later—in Numbers 31—we get a twist. Israel ends up falling into sin with the women of Moab, worshiping false gods. And it turns out—it was Balaam’s idea.

After the failed cursing attempts, he apparently goes back to Balak and says, “Hey… I can’t curse them directly, but here’s a strategy: send your women down, lead the men into sin, and their God will deal with them Himself.”

And that’s exactly what happens. Thousands die. Israel is judged. And Balaam? He’s killed in battle by the Israelites. The same people he once tried to curse.

This is the danger: Balaam looked obedient, but his heart was hooked. He couldn’t say no to what he craved. And eventually, it led to deception, destruction—and his own downfall.

So let’s talk real life.

Where is Balaam’s error showing up in us?

Maybe you’re doing all the “right things”—showing up at church, reading Scripture, saying the right words—but your heart is chasing something else. A relationship that’s not healthy. A desire for status. An addiction to comfort or distraction.

We’re all vulnerable to this. I’ve had seasons where I wanted God’s blessing, but I also wanted something else… and I tried to have both. I rationalized it. Managed it. Told myself, “It’s not that bad.”

But appetites that aren’t surrendered to God eventually become idols. And idols always demand more than we expected.

Jude isn’t saying “don’t enjoy life.” He’s saying—don’t let your hunger lead you away from your Savior.

Balaam wanted payment. Influence. A big payday. And eventually, he found a workaround to get it—by leading others into sin.

What do we want so badly that we’re willing to compromise to get it? Is it comfort? Attention? Affection? Control?

Sometimes we think, “Well, I’m still going to church. Still reading Scripture.” But if our hearts are clinging to something other than Jesus—if we’re trying to serve both God and our appetite—we’re already in Balaam territory.

That’s why Paul says in Galatians 6, “Whoever sows to please their flesh will reap destruction.” It’s not just about avoiding temptation. It’s about being honest about what we’re hungry for.

So what do we do?

How do we contend earnestly in the face of desire?

First—name your appetite.

What’s the thing that pulls you most? It might not even be sinful in itself—but is it something you’re tempted to pursue apart from God?

Second—bring it into the light.

Talk to God about it. Be honest. Confess where that desire has led you off track.

Third—invite accountability.

Sometimes we need people in our lives who can help us see what we can’t. People who can say, “Hey, your heart seems out of alignment. Can we talk about that?”

And last—shift your hunger.

Psalm 37 says Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. So allow God to make the desires of your heart, His desires.

Then we get to Korah—and this one is sneakier. Korah’s sin is pride. But not the obvious kind. It’s spiritual pride. Rebellion against authority. He didn’t just wake up one day and say, “I hate Moses.” He said, “Why is he in charge? Aren’t we just as holy?”

Sound familiar? We live in a culture that celebrates independence and questions authority constantly. And while healthy accountability is good, pride—that “I know better than them” spirit—can poison our hearts.

The danger with Korah’s sin is that it doesn’t feel sinful. It feels justified. But in God’s eyes, pride isn’t just a character flaw—it’s rebellion. And it’s deadly.

You can find Korah’s story in Numbers chapter 16. The Israelites are out in the wilderness, following Moses and Aaron—God’s chosen leaders. And let’s be honest… the wilderness isn’t fun. It’s uncomfortable. It’s slow. It stretches people. And when people are uncomfortable, pride and frustration start to bubble up.

That’s exactly what happens with Korah.

He’s not just some outsider. He’s a Levite—part of the priestly tribe. He already has spiritual responsibility. But it’s not enough for him. He wants more. He wants Moses’ authority.

So he rounds up 250 other leaders—people with influence—and they confront Moses and Aaron. Here’s what they say:

“You’ve gone too far! The whole community is holy, every one of them, and the Lord is with them. Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord’s assembly?”

Sounds spiritual, right? Sounds like a justice issue. But it wasn’t. It was pride.

Korah wasn’t defending the people—he was elevating himself.

And God responds quickly and decisively. He tells Moses to have the people separate themselves from Korah and his followers. And then—the earth literally opens up and swallows them.

Yeah. It’s one of the most dramatic judgment scenes in Scripture.

So what exactly was Korah’s sin?

At its core—it was a rejection of God’s order. Of God’s chosen leadership. Of God’s design.

He wasn’t content with his role. He wanted more—not because God called him to it, but because pride whispered, “You deserve more. You know better. Why are they in charge and not you?”

Now here’s what makes this so dangerous: Korah wasn’t just misled—he misled others. 250 others joined him. And Scripture says their lives were taken too.

That’s why this kind of pride is so toxic. It spreads. It disguises itself as boldness or discernment, but underneath, it’s a rebellion against God’s authority.

Jude calls this “Korah’s rebellion.” And it still shows up today—not just in politics or power plays, but in subtle attitudes. In church criticism. In spiritual independence. In resistance to being led or corrected.

And just like with Cain and Balaam—this kind of rebellion doesn’t show up overnight. It builds over time.

Let’s get honest: how often do we resist authority because we think we know better?

It might be your pastor.

It might be a boss.

It might be a parent.

It might even be God Himself.

We live in a culture that values independence and personal truth, and in some ways that’s a gift. But if we’re not careful, we start to believe the lie that says, “No one gets to tell me what to do. I follow God my way.”

Here’s the problem: the minute we disconnect obedience from humility, we’re already walking the path of Korah.

I’ve been there. There’ve been times when I bristled at correction or pushed back against leadership—not because they were wrong, but because I didn’t like not being in control. And God, in His kindness, used those moments to reveal pride I didn’t know was there.

Korah’s story forces us to ask:

Am I following where God’s leading—or am I trying to take control of how things should go?

So what does it look like to contend earnestly against this kind of rebellion?

First—we posture ourselves with humility.

1 Peter 5 says:

“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

If we want to walk in God’s grace, we have to let go of the need to be in control. We have to submit—not just to God, but to the people He’s placed in our lives to lead and shape us.

Second—we ask for correction.

This one’s hard. But it’s powerful. When’s the last time you invited someone to speak honestly into your life? A friend, a mentor, a pastor?

Korah gathered people to support him. But what if he had gathered people to challenge him instead?

Third—we serve faithfully where we are.

Korah already had a role in the priesthood. He wasn’t called to lead Israel—but he was called to serve them. Had he embraced that calling with faithfulness instead of discontent, his story would’ve been different.

Sometimes, the most powerful way to resist pride is to say:

“I will be faithful right where God has placed me—even if no one sees it.”

There’s a better way than the way of Korah.

It’s the way of Jesus.

Philippians 2 says that though Jesus was God, He didn’t consider equality with God something to cling to. Instead, He emptied Himself. Took on the nature of a servant. Humbled Himself to the point of death on a cross.

And because of that—God exalted Him.

True greatness doesn’t come through rebellion. It comes through surrender. Through humility. Through serving.

So today, if you feel that tug of frustration… that resistance to leadership… that desire to control—pause. Don’t push forward. Don’t gather a crowd. Bring it to Jesus. Let Him realign your heart.

Part 3: Where Do You See Yourself?

So here’s the million-dollar question: which one of these do you see most in yourself?

And I’ll go first—honestly, it depends on the season. Sometimes I find myself frustrated at what feels like injustice—like Cain. Sometimes I feel that tug toward comfort, distraction, or indulgence—like Balaam. And yeah… sometimes I feel the pull of pride. Wanting to be in control. Wanting recognition.

The scary part is how natural all of that feels. Which is why Jude doesn’t say “relax and hope for the best”—he says contend earnestly. Because this stuff doesn’t go away on its own. We have to fight—but not by trying harder. By staying close to Jesus.

And that leads us into something that Pastor Aaron emphasized: this fight is not just for us. It’s for those around us, too.

Part 4: How We Fight for Others

Jude gives us some instructions here—and they’re beautiful. They show us how to engage with others who are in different stages of struggle.

First, he says, “Have mercy on those who doubt.”

There are people in our lives who are just unsure. They’re overwhelmed, anxious, skeptical, or burned out. They need grace. They need patience. Not a lecture, but a lifeline.

Then Jude says, “Save others by snatching them from the fire.”

Some people need bold, loving intervention. This is where spiritual friendship gets real—where we say, “Hey, I love you too much to let you self-destruct. Let’s talk. Let’s pray. Let’s walk this out.”

And then: “Show mercy, with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh.”

In other words, be careful. Some situations are spiritually dangerous. Some people are caught up in toxic patterns that can pull us in too if we’re not careful. Mercy doesn’t mean losing discernment. Love doesn’t mean compromise.

And one thing Pastor Aaron said that I’ve been thinking about all week: Technology is one of the main places many of us are compromising without even realizing it. Whether it’s what we’re watching, scrolling, following—those little moments shape us.

So the challenge is this: where are you brushing up against the “garment polluted by the flesh”? And what boundaries might God be calling you to set?

Part 5: The Anchor of Hope

Okay, deep breath. Because we’re not ending in fear—we’re landing in hope.

Jude closes with this powerful reassurance:

“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before His glorious presence with great joy…”

Let that sink in. He is able to keep you from stumbling.

You’re not in this battle alone. The pressure isn’t all on your shoulders. This isn’t a self-help project—it’s a relationship with a Savior who holds you even when your grip slips.

Contending earnestly for the faith doesn’t mean obsessing over sin—it means throwing yourself into the arms of Jesus again and again. Letting His Spirit form you. Letting His truth renew your mind. Letting His love fuel your fight.

Hey, thanks for sticking with me today. This was a weighty episode, but an important one. Jude’s message reminds us that spiritual life isn’t passive. It’s active. It’s intentional. But we don’t fight alone—and we don’t fight without hope.

This week, take 10 minutes and read through Jude slowly. It’s just one chapter. Ask God to show you where you’ve been drifting, and where He’s calling you to step back into the fight—not just for yourself, but for someone else.

And if this episode stirred something in you, share it with a friend. Let’s be a community that fights for each other in love.

Until next time, stay rooted, stay alert, and stay close to Jesus.