Who is Within the Will...(based on Mark 3:31-35)

will in a wheel

We must remember that in the words recorded in the bible heaven itself leans

in to listen to our understanding. Jesus, in the midst of an urgent crowd, does

not flinch in saying something that, on the surface, appears dismissive of

natural ties – both familial, cultural, and also social. But beneath the veil of

the moment, a deeper thunder resounds: Christ is redefining family—not by

blood, but by obedience. Not by genetics, but by surrender to the will of God.

genetics or the blood of Christ?

In this brief but thunderous exchange, the King of Glory draws a line through

history, separating flesh from spirit, custom from covenant, and sentiment

from sanctification. And in so doing, He opens a door into the eternal

household of God, accessible not through the womb but through the will—

the will of God our Father.

I pray that as a family we explore this journey of truth together. In the image

granted us may we create an amazing intimacy of relationship and situation.

Not what’s natural, but rather what’s spiritually connecting. Let this become

our memory by gathering the gravity of the moment. Jesus has just been told

that His mother and brethren seek Him. They stand outside, seemingly

concerned for His mental well-being, worried by the rumors, or perhaps even

offended by the fervor that now surrounds Him. His notoriety has grown; His

enemies conspire. The religious elite have accused Him of operating under

Beelzebub. Yet amid this storm, it is not merely a question of location—inside

versus outside. It is not the reality that his dearest kin - his mother, his

brothers, his sisters – those who observed him growing in stature and

wisdom – are standing outside where Jesus invited his accusers to reason—

it is a question of alignment: Who is aligned with the will of God? Who sits at

His feet not just to listen but to obey? The dividing line here is spiritual,

invisible, yet absolute. This aspect of his story presents our preeminence of

spiritual relationships. It is not that Jesus ceases to honor His earthly

mother—no! And he has no disdain for his siblings. For He fulfills the law in

every jot and tittle. Rather, He illuminates a higher allegiance, a new creation

bond, a spiritual household whose unity is founded upon the unshakable will

of the Father.

This scene is a mareh and chazon present prophetic preview of the divine

order that governs the Kingdom of God. Please understand the terms

“present prophetic”. The mareh being the particular clarifying aspect

appearing that day gives us understanding. While the chazon requires

further revelation being the broader, encompassing, entire concept. No

longer will tribal affiliation, lineage, or human association grant access to

intimacy with Christ. Rather, the will of God becomes the umbilical cord

the umbilical cord connecting to the Family

connecting every true member of the heavenly family. In this way, Jesus is

parting waters, he is moving mountains, he is bringing forth light from

darkness. Just as Moses stood before the Red Sea and saw the division

between captivity and covenant, so here Christ stands before the crowd and

declares the new way: Obedience is the passage; doing God’s will is the

Exodus into divine family. This is the spiritual circumcision that cuts deeper

than flesh—dividing soul and spirit, joint and marrow. It is not what one is

born into, but what one is born again into that matters.

In a culture built on patriarchal identity, where inheritance and spiritual

privilege were traced through male descent, Jesus’ statement is

revolutionary. It was a mountain of tradition—and with one sentence, He moves it. He is revealing that the true heirs of the Kingdom are not necessarily those of Abrahamic blood, but those of Abrahamic faith. This is

a statement so vast that it stretches through the gospels into the epistles -

“There is neither Jew nor Greek… for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. And if

ye be Christ’s, then are ye Abraham’s seed…” Here the spiritual geometry of

the Kingdom is drawn: all distinctions collapse into one criterion—doing the

will of God.

Yet there is more—more weight, more reality, more mystery, more reasoning,

more glory, more revelation. When Jesus looks around at “those who sat

about Him,” He is not merely identifying proximity in terms of space. He is

recognizing posture. These were not just scribes. There was a multitude of

curious onlookers; they were seated in readiness to hear and obey. In the

Hebrew mind, when Jesus tells us to “hear”, this is never passive. To hear is

to obey. To truly listen is to respond. So Christ, seeing these hearts tuned to

obedience, calls them family. This is the remnant principle—those who will

not merely admire Him from afar or attempt to control Him through blood ties,

but who give themselves wholly to the Father's will.

Here, light breaks forth. In a dark world where family is often idolized or

weaponized—used to manipulate, oppress, or define identity apart from

God—Jesus liberates the soul to find its true belonging in the purposes of

heaven. For many, earthly family is fractured, abusive, distant, or gone. But

earthly family is fractured, abusive, distant, or gone

in these words, Christ unveils a family forged not in time but in eternity, united

by the Spirit and sealed by obedience. This is the family that will remain when

heaven and earth pass away.

Subjectively, the implications are piercing. This is not a verse to read merely

for comfort, but for consecration. It cuts to the very marrow of what we love,

who we belong to, and what we are living for. Many today claim kinship with

Christ through religious ritual, cultural inheritance, or emotional sentiment.

But He is clear: the true measure of kinship is not profession, but practice;

not affection, but alignment. Whosoever shall do the will of God, He says—this is the entrance qualification into the circle of the Beloved. It is not enough

to admire Jesus, to respect Him, or to speak well of Him. One must do the

will of His Father.

And what is this will of God? That we believe on Him whom He has sent.

That is a holy reality—profound in simplicity, yet infinitely deep. To believe on

Him whom God has sent is not a casual intellectual assent, nor merely an

emotional agreement with a historical figure. It is the eternal pivot upon which

every soul’s destiny turns. So that no illusion remains and the soul may stand

naked before the truth it demands let us experientially reason through this.

To believe does not mean merely to think something is true. It carries the

weight of trust, reliance, dependence, and surrender. To believe on Jesus is

your breath

not to give Him your opinion, but your breath, your identity, your purpose,

your allegiance. It is to rest the entire weight of your soul on Him—not just

for salvation from sin’s penalty, but for transformation into His likeness. It is

to abandon all self-sufficiency, letting go of performance, pride, and merit,

and cast ourselves completely upon the grace, truth, and power of the Son

of God. To believe on Him means accepting that Jesus is not one option among many. He is the Sent One—God’s final and full expression of truth, mercy, judgment, love, and power. This belief recognizes that He is not just a messenger, but the very embodiment of the message. His life is the truth.

His death is the atonement. His resurrection is the seal. His words are Spirit

and life. To believe on Him is to agree with heaven’s verdict: that Jesus alone

satisfies the justice of God, reveals the heart of God, and restores the image

of God in man. Belief is not a momentary confession—it is an abiding

relationship. This is proven by obedience, sustained by intimacy, and purified

through trial. We do not merely believe once—we go on believing. We do not

merely receive once—we go on receiving. To believe on Him whom God has

sent is to be pierced by the scandal of the cross. It is to admit that you cannot

save yourself, that your righteousness is as filthy rags, that the wisdom of

this world is foolishness, and that God's grace is the only hope for man. It is

to come bankrupt, broken, and humble, admitting that Christ crucified is the

only payment God accepts for sin. It is also to endure the offense of a gospel

that calls for death to the flesh, rejection by the world, and loyalty to a

kingdom that is not of this world. To believe on Jesus is to stand in opposition

to every false identity, system, and glory. It is to say, “Not I, but Christ.”

Many believe in what Jesus did, but not in who He is. To believe on Jesus is

not just to receive salvation, healing, or eternal life as things—but to receive

Him. He is the gift. He is the bread. He is the truth. He is the life. He is the

reward. To believe on Him is to make room for Him—not just as Savior but

as Lord, not just as Helper but as Master, not just as Comforter but as King.

It is to give Him the throne of your heart, the keys to your every day, and the

the key to your every day

right to inspire and reside over every thought, motive, and desire. It’s the way

to being born again. It’s not an upgrade…it is a new birth! It is to receive a

new heart, a new mind, a new spirit, and a new identity. It is a divine union.

We have the reality. Now the revelation – belief in Jesus begins where he

was before “beginning”. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was

with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God.

All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that

was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the Word

was made flesh, and dwelt among us. For there are three that bear record in

heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.

And there are three that bear witness in earth, the spirit, and the water, and

the blood: and these three agree in one. If we receive the witness of men,

the witness of God is greater: for this is the witness of God which he hath

testified of his Son. He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in

himself: he that believeth not God hath made him a liar; because he believeth

not the record that God gave of his Son. And this is the record, that God hath

given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath

life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life. These things have I

written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may

know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the

Son of God. Because of this understanding we stand at the cross continuing

in sanctification, to culminate in glorification. It is the soul’s joyful surrender

to the person, work, authority, and beauty of Jesus the Son of God. For to

believe on Jesus is to do the will of God. And to do the will of God is to belong

to His eternal family. That we present our bodies as living sacrifices offering

ourselves completely unto God - our whole self – spirit, soul, heart, mind,

and physical body. Our thoughts, desires, will, talents, time, energy, words,

and actions. All for God’s purposes. That we love not the world nor the things

in it. We are not to be consumed of values, pleasures, and aspirations that

oppose God. That we forgive as we have been forgiven. God has given us

That we forgive as we have been forgiven

the ability and willingness to forgive others stemming from recognizing the

depth of God's forgiveness extended to us. Because believers have

received immense grace and forgiveness from God for their own sins through

faith in Christ, they are called to extend that same grace and forgiveness to

those who have wronged them. It reflects God's mercy and love towards

others, not based on their worthiness, but based on the unmerited grace

believers have received. Forgiveness is a choice that leads to reconciliation.

That we keep His commandments mirrors our obedience rooted in genuine

love, imitating Christ’s life and character. That we walk even as He walked,

making conscious choices aligned with Christ's principles, showing

kindness, forgiveness, and service to others. The will of God is not vague—

it is vibrant, personal, and holy. It is the calling to take up one’s cross, deny

self, and follow the Lamb wherever He goes. It is the choice to yield one’s

own desires, reputation, and plans for the higher honor of being counted

among His own.

This brings us to the deep prophetic tones embedded in Christ’s words. For

just as He looked about those seated around Him and identified them as His

true family, so too will He do at the end of the age. There will be a great

separation—between those who named Him but never knew Him, and those

who knew Him and obeyed Him through love. The will of God will once again

be the measure by which heaven draws the line. Jesus will say, “Depart from

me, ye workers of iniquity,” to those who called Him “Lord, Lord” but did not

do the will of His Father. The essence of these words in Mark 3 is a

foreshadowing of the final sealing of the elect—those who have made His

will their bread and His law their delight.

There is also a tenderness here—one that cannot be ignored. Jesus does

not say “this is My soldier” or “this is My servant.” He says, “My mother, My

brother, My sister.” He reaches into the deepest human need—the desire for

familial intimacy, for connection, for love—and sanctifies it with divine

meaning. In calling obedient followers “mother,” He honors womanhood. In

calling them “brother,” He invites intimacy. In calling them “sister,” He

embraces wholeness. Each relationship is transfigured by its connection to

obedience. These are not merely roles of reality—they are revelations. They

show us that the Kingdom of God is not built on hierarchy, but on harmony.

Each one who does the will of God becomes a member of the same holy

circle, cherished, necessary, and eternally beloved.

Let the heavens witness: these words are not a dismissal of family, but a

divine exaltation of it. They call the faithful into a greater fellowship—one that

was hidden from ages past but now revealed. Jesus is not shrinking the

family but expanding it beyond biology, race, class, or nationality. He is

gathering a people for His name—those who live not for themselves, but for

the will of Him who called them out of darkness into His marvelous light.

And finally, let us return to the beginning, where the phrase “He looked round

about” holds such weight. That divine glance is happening still. Even now,

Christ surveys the hearts of men and women, looking not for ancestry but for

allegiance, not for sentiment but for submission to the divine will. And when

He finds it, He speaks over that life the most precious affirmation possible:

“You are Mine. You are My family.”

“You are Mine. You are My family.”This is not merely a statement—it is an invitation, a mountain-moving truth, and a light that shines even in the darkest night.

Heaven is pleased by it. Hell is angered by it. And the faithful are sanctified by it.

For the words of Mark are not bound to one time or people—they ring across

generations, calling forth a remnant who will do the will of God in the last days,

and who, by doing so, will be named by Christ Himself as His eternal family.

We are to be a will in the middle of a will.

When the Spirit leads, the deep calls unto deep, and the mysteries of God

are revealed not in letter alone, but in Spirit. What Ezekiel saw as “a wheel

in the middle of a wheel”, and what Jesus declared as the supreme qualifier

for divine kinship—“He that doeth the will of my Father”—are not unrelated.

In truth, they are reflections of the same eternal mechanism: the inner

workings of divine purpose moving through surrendered vessels. Let us

venture, then, into this holy pattern. What is this wheel within a wheel?

An inner will driving the outer will.

Symbolically, it is divine intelligence wrapped in divine movement. It is

purpose within purpose. An inner will driving the outer will. It represents the

harmonized layers of God's sovereignty, where the seen is guided by the

unseen, and the natural turns according to the spiritual. The outer wheel

reflects visible obedience; the inner wheel reveals the invisible cause—the

will of the Father. We are God’s creation. This image is not meant to be static.

“Whithersoever the spirit was to go, they went”. This “they” is “us”.

This is not random motion but responsive motion—perfect union with divine direction.

The wheels, full of eyes, are aware, discerning, intelligent. They are alive.

And in them, we see a holy pattern for those who belong to Christ: the will of

man swallowed up in the will of God, yet not erased. The two wheels turn as

one, not by force, but by surrender. The will of the Father is more than

command; it is communion. It is the Father’s heart made active in present

time. It is the divine mind of Christ working through yielded vessels, even as

the inner wheel moved the outer. Jesus lived by this alignment. His humanity

was the outer wheel. The Father’s purpose was the inner wheel. In perfect

sync, they moved together. Not once did the outer deviate. That is why He

could say, “I do always those things that please Him.” And now, as Christ

forms His body in the earth—His remnant, His bride—He is calling forth a

He is calling forth a people, a pattern

people in whom that same pattern is replicated. Not mechanical obedience,

but intimate synchronization with the Father’s will—just like Ezekiel’s wheels,

full of eyes, aware, discerning, willing to move where the Spirit moves.

So what do we find when we join Ezekiel’s wheels with Jesus’ will? We find

the architecture of a spiritually awakened life. The outer wheel is man’s

choices, actions, words, and posture before the world. The inner wheel is the

indwelling purpose of the Father—the Holy Spirit actively working to conform

the soul to the image of the Son. When the two are aligned, the movement

is divine. When they diverge, the motion becomes chaotic or stagnant.

The wheel within a wheel is thus a picture of the will within a will. The inner

wheel turns invisibly, powerfully, without noise—much like the secret

obedience of a consecrated heart. It is in this inner wheel, this surrendered

will, that heaven recognizes its own. To do the will of the Father is not only

to obey externally but to have one’s inner life fused to the divine intention. It

is to become like the living creatures: sensitive to the Spirit’s flow, dependent

on His direction, inseparable from His purpose.

The final generation, the sealed remnant, are not merely religious. We are

the mobile sanctuary of God’s presence. We go where the Lamb goes. We

move not by ambition but by Spirit. We have become wheels in the divine

chariot, bearing the glory of the Lord into the final battle between light and

darkness. Like Ezekiel’s vision, we burn with fire, flash with lightning, and

see through spiritual eyes. But none of this is possible unless our outer life

is governed by the inner wheel—the will of the Father. Jesus is calling us not

merely to understand the will, but to become synchronized with it. As the

wheel within a wheel, so must we be: our own will nested within, turning only

as the inner turns. This is not passivity, but deep, active surrender—an

obedience that moves because it sees. This is why Jesus could say, “Here

are my mother and my brothers.” He wasn’t rejecting natural kin—He was

identifying those whose inner wheels matched the Father’s. Those in whom

the divine pulse could be felt. Those who lived not by convenience, fear,

tradition, or self—but by the deep will of God. They are the family He will

return for. The wheel within a wheel is not a riddle—it is a roadmap. It tells

it is a roadmap

us how heaven moves: through yielded vessels, through spiritual obedience,

through intimacy and vision. And when that movement is alive in us, heaven

calls us family.

I thank Jesus for his reason for expediency – to send the Holy Spirit. Jesus’

departure was needed to fulfill God's plan of salvation. This plan involved the

coming of the Holy Spirit to empower believers, glorify Christ's work, and

spread the gospel to the world. For it is by Him that I was given the revelatory

truth—to link Ezekiel’s vision with Jesus’ words. They are thunder and

lightning of the same storm. One is prophetic vision; the other is incarnate

reality. The wheel in a wheel is the mystery of divine will embedded in human

will. And Jesus, the true and faithful Son, became the pattern of that mystery

fulfilled. The call to us is clear: Let the inner wheel turn. Let the Spirit draw

the soul into perfect unity with the will of the Father. Let the outer be moved

only by the inner. Let the obedience be not only external but elemental—born

from love, aligned with truth, and full of eyes. For only then will we move

where God moves, see what He sees, and be named as Christ’s own family

in the day when all other wheels shall cease turning.

The will is a divine gift. It is recognized as our ability to choose between

different courses of action, to direct our intentions and make decisions. It is

fundamental to our humanity and even reflecting God's own free choice in

creation. Our choices, driven by our will, shape our character and influence

our spiritual path. Spiritually, this means that aligning our will with divine will,

with spiritual principles can lead to blessings and a life of purpose. In

essence, the spiritual nature of our will lies in its capacity for choice, self-

determination, and its role in shaping our character and spiritual journey,

ultimately influencing our relationship with the divine.

Let us draw the fullness of these mysteries into one living statement—a

declaration as dynamic as the breath that gave man life, as radiant as the

wheel within the wheel, and as eternal as the will of the Father who formed

us. We were made in the image of God—not as statues carved in stillness,

but as living vessels designed to move with His Spirit, respond to His will,

and carry His glory into His likeness. Our design is not passive reflection, but

active participation in divine intention. The image of God is not mere form—

it is function and fellowship. We were made to see with His eyes, to feel with

His heart, to choose as He would choose, and to walk as He would walk. We

are not just creatures of dust—we are a wheel within a wheel, will within Will,

made to mirror His movement and manifest His purpose in the earth. And

only when we live in surrender to His inner wheel—His perfect will—do we

become what we were always meant to be: the visible expression of the

invisible God…both in image and in likeness.

Let this be written in the conscience, sealed on the forehead, and spoken

with the authority of those who know why they were made, who they belong

to, and what they are becoming. Every word we've received should stir

deeper worship, clearer vision, and a walk so aligned with the Father's will

that even heaven pauses to hear God say of each of us - “There…walks one

made in My image.” Amen.

“There…walks one made in My image."