Note from Ron

This four part collection is being sent as a 2025 Christmas gift to those I consider family and close friends. I am putting the final touches on it early Christmas Eve morning, while our home is quiet. Our three grandchildren and their parents from New Jersey are upstairs sleeping, Liessa is resting nearby with visions of sugar plums dancing in her head, and I am enjoying one of the joys of my life in writing reflections. 2025 has been a year of God’s revelation in many ways in my life. Releasing to God years of weights I’ve carried for most of life, is freeing me to explore and discover the inexhaustible love of God through writing.

Thank you for your love for me and for your continued support of Liessa and me. These reflections come from pieces I have written throughout this past year. They are not produced for an audience so much as they are born out of lived reflection. My heart longs for the heart of Jesus. I deeply enjoy the creativity of thinking about my faith and reflecting on what it means to live the life of Christ that is already resident in me.

The ideas you will encounter in these reflections are not doctrines or systems. They are constructs that help me think about faith and to see life through a redemptive lens. At best, they are tools that assist me in forming language around what I am learning. The Holy Spirit remains the true originator and teacher.

The idea of Distance Traveled was first named by my daughter in law’s brother and became a developmental way for us to understand the value of an experienced life. It offered language for recognizing maturity that cannot be measured by age or achievement, but only by formation.

Qualitative Mathematics emerged as I was thinking about how to speak with younger generations in a way that feels conversational and honest. It became a way to describe what faith looks like when it is lived, and how its fruit often shows up differently than expected.

Below is the original meaning these reflections were grounded in.

Distance Traveled — A metaphor for spiritual and emotional maturity, not measured by time or achievement but by transformation. It reflects how far the soul has come in humility, understanding, and grace. The true measure is not how much ground we have covered, but how deeply the journey has changed who we are. Real distance is not horizontal but vertical, moving from self reliance to surrender, from knowing about God to walking with Him.

Qualitative Mathematics — A phrase describing the way God measures differently from the world. His arithmetic is relational and redemptive, where value is found not in quantity but in the quality of heart and obedience. In God’s economy, five loaves feed thousands, one cross redeems humanity, and a mustard seed of faith moves mountains. It is divine logic expressed through grace.

My hope is that these reflections serve you quietly, offering language, encouragement, or companionship along the way.

With gratitude and affection, 

Liessa & Ron 

Don’t Count What You Can Measure; Measure Only What God Can Multiply

Ron Randle

(Mark Davidson inspired reflection. Mark is the call I make every weekday morning at 6:30am. He’s walking his prescribed No Cal trail in Santa Rosa, CA and I’m in So Cal sitting comfortably with my cup of Java in hand at the kitchen island rooting for him. It works for us!)

“Don’t count what you can measure; measure only what God can multiply.”

October, 2025

Through Mark’s study of the Old Testament—he’s clearly heard the call of God around the word “build.” He continues to seek God as he studies, gaining clarity every day. Listening to Mark reminded me how God works—not on our timetable, but His, with him providing the resourcing.

When the Israelites were preparing to occupy the Promised Land, God said,

“Little by little I will drive them out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land.”—Exodus 23:30

There was preparatory work to be done before what was promised could be received. I suspect that is what God is doing again, especially as you hear Mark’s full narrative of how God is revealing what He wants to build and how He intends to do it through the business his wife and he own.

We are wired in a way that requires ongoing transformation in how we think so that we can discern the good and perfect will of God. That process is rarely fast, but it is always fruitful. God multiplies without haste. He is never in a hurry. And yet, God is always right on time.

Throughout Scripture, God has been multiplying what little His people could offer—taking what looked like scarcity and turning it into sufficiency. He did it with Abraham, promising descendants as countless as the stars when Abraham didn’t even have a single child. He did it with Gideon, who won a battle with 300 men when he thought he needed thousands. And He did it with the widow in 2 Kings 4, who poured oil into borrowed jars until every one was full.

None of them had enough. But God didn’t ask them to count what they could measure. He asked them to trust what He could multiply.

That’s what Mark and I were talking about—how even the best of our thinking keeps us small when God’s math is so different. Our best reasoning still wants control. But trust invites surrender. The moment I stop counting what I can control and start trusting what God can multiply, I find freedom again.

It’s not about how much I produce, but how open I am for Him to produce through me. Five loaves and two fish were never enough—until they were given.

God’s delight is multiplying those things that reflect His character demonstrated through us. They are qualitative—things like faithfulness, mercy, and grace—and they often defy our ideas of how success should look. God measures fruitfulness by resemblance, not results. What He multiplies most is what looks most like Him.

—Postscript—

“Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” … They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples gathered twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.”

—John 6:9–13 (NIV)

Qualitative Mathematics: Who Says It Can’t Be This Way?

By Ron Randle © 2025 | Biblical Thoughts and Research Project

Faith often feels like the one subject that refuses to fit on a chalkboard. The moment we try to quantify it, to measure outcomes, define worth, or prove growth, it slips through our formulas and reveals something deeper. That is because God’s mathematics, especially in His relationship to humankind, to you and me, is rarely quantitative. It is qualitative. It is measured not by how much we have, but by the kind of heart we bring and by how His grace moves through us to bless others.

When we ask, “Who says it can’t be this way?” we are not dismissing logic. We are reclaiming wonder. We are remembering that God multiplies through surrender, not accumulation. He often begins with what feels like less than enough and turns it into abundance. Little becomes much in His hands. He counts differently. Not by digits, but by devotion. Not by efficiency, but by the Spirit working through willing lives.

This is qualitative mathematics. Five loaves feed thousands. Mustard seeds move mountains. The last are brought forward. God’s equations rarely balance according to human reasoning, yet they always resolve in grace. The Spirit transforms scarcity into sufficiency, not by adding resources, but by reorienting the heart.

We live in a culture that prizes what can be measured. More followers. More influence. More proof. But heaven asks a different question. What kind of person are you becoming? In God’s classroom, maturity is not marked by multiplication alone, but by transformation. It is seen in how love expands within us, how peace holds under pressure, and how humility deepens with time.

This is the mathematics at work in love, grace, and mercy. One cross results in redemption beyond measure.

A single act of mercy outweighs a lifetime of performance.

Two or three gathered in His name carry more nearness than a crowd without Him.

So yes, it is qualitative mathematics. It is the Father’s way of saying, “Do not count only what you can measure. Attend to what I choose to multiply.”

Faith that dares to believe this begins to live differently. It asks not, “What do I have to show?” but, “What has God shown in me?” It learns to see life through a redemptive lens, where subtraction becomes pruning, division becomes distribution, and brokenness becomes the place where grace is most clearly revealed.

Who says it cannot be this way?

Only those still counting the wrong things.

When Faith Is Counted and When It Is Formed

By Ron Randle © 2025 | Biblical Thoughts and Research Project

A Companion Reflection on Quantitative Faith and Qualitative Formation

There is a way of thinking about faith that leans naturally toward counting. We ask how much progress has been made, how many people are involved, and whether anything visible has changed. These questions are not wrong. They help us organize activity and assess outcomes. But they are limited. They cannot tell us what is actually being formed.

Quantitative faith tends to look for reassurance. It wants evidence that can be named and defended. It prefers results that show up quickly and clearly. When those results slow down or remain unseen, faith can begin to feel uncertain. Waiting starts to feel unproductive. Silence can feel like absence.

Over time, I have come to see that God often works in a different direction. What He seems most interested in is not what can be counted, but what is taking shape beneath the surface. Formation usually happens quietly. It unfolds over time and resists easy measurement. It asks a different question altogether. Not how much has happened, but who is becoming someone new.

Qualitative formation works at a slower pace. It is not dramatic, and it rarely announces itself. It shows up in steadier responses, softened reactions, and a growing capacity to remain faithful when outcomes are unclear. It becomes visible not in sudden growth, but in endurance.

This kind of formation changes how we interpret progress. Instead of asking whether influence is expanding, we begin to ask whether humility is deepening.

Instead of measuring activity, we notice patience. Instead of counting success, we observe whether love is becoming more generous and less conditional.

God appears to give priority to this work. He forms character before He multiplies influence. He shapes obedience before He displays fruit. Much of what He is doing in us cannot yet be counted. It can only be trusted.

When faith is reduced primarily to numbers, it tends to become anxious. It needs constant confirmation. When faith is shaped through formation, it becomes more resilient. It learns how to wait without panic and how to remain steady without immediate results. It’s what it says in the previous reflection, “It is measured not by how much we have, but by the kind of heart we bring and by how His grace moves through us to bless others.”

This does not mean God is indifferent to outcomes. It means He orders them. What eventually becomes visible is often the result of long and unseen preparation. The harvest can be counted. The roots usually cannot.

Over time, faith that submits to qualitative formation becomes less concerned with proving itself. It grows quieter, more grounded, and more durable. This kind of faith does not announce itself. It simply begins to look more like Christ.

This is the difference between counting faith and becoming faithful. One focuses on what can be measured. The other attends to what is being formed. Only one of them lasts.

When the Threads Hold Together

by Ron Randle

God is less interested in what we can measure than in what He is forming. Less focused on speed than on faithfulness. Less impressed by outcomes than by resemblance.

Taken together, these reflections point toward a single reality. Faith is not something we display. It is something we inhabit. It is lived slowly, often quietly, and usually without announcement. It shows up in how we wait, how we respond, and how we remain open when clarity is incomplete and outcomes are uncertain.

That is where Emmanuel meets us. Not as an idea to be admired, but as God with us in the ordinary rhythms of life. The Messiah is not glorified through our ability to explain Him well, but through lives that increasingly resemble Him. Lives that trust His timing. Lives that release control. Lives that allow small offerings to be given fully, knowing that what He multiplies is never limited to what we bring.

When our lives begin to reflect His character, something shifts. Faith becomes less about proving and more about participating. We stop striving to appear fruitful and instead attend to being faithful. We begin to recognize that God is already at work, not waiting for us to produce more, but inviting us to surrender more deeply.

This is how our lives give glory to Emmanuel. Not through extraordinary displays, but through ordinary faith lived daily. Through patience when growth is slow. Through trust when resources feel insufficient. Through obedience that does not demand immediate results.

In the end, what holds these reflections together is not a concept, but a confession. God is with us. He is forming us. And He is faithful to complete what He begins, little by little, in His time.

That is enough. And, it is everything.

Selah.

A Closing Blessing

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

As you step back into the ordinary rhythms of life, may you do so with a redemptive lens, seeing grace at work in small places, patient processes, and unfinished stories. May you remain curious, teachable, and anchored in the nearness of God.

And may the peace of Christ, which does not depend on clarity or completion, guard your heart and shape your way forward. Not hurried. Not anxious. But faithful.

Blessings in 2026, Liessa and Ron Randle