For those who know the story of Elizabeth Holmes and Theranos, it may seem hard to remember a time when the company was unstoppable.

Read more: AI Promised the World. It’s Not Delivering.

While her name is now permanently associated with fraud and deception, the truth of the matter is that for a time, the company founded by a 19-year-old Holmes in 2003 seemed poised to change the world. Their promise to revolutionise the healthcare industry by providing fast, accurate and painless blood tests caught the attention of many and led to the company’s peak valuation of nine billion dollars in 2014. Combining the potentially paradigm-shifting technology with Holmes’ captivating public persona, the company seemed poised to change the world. 

Despite claims that they could do a full range of blood tests from a pinprick of blood, the company never developed the technology and instead engaged in a variety of deceptive practices to hide this fact. Of course, as is often the case, Theranos’s secret eventually broke and led to the downfall for a company which had once been praised for its “phenomenal rebooting of laboratory medicine”.¹ Indeed, Theranos and Holmes now serve as a prime example of a company both overpromising and underdelivering—or in this case, failing to deliver at all. 

There was only one problem. It was all a lie. 

One of the most interesting facts about Holmes and Theranos comes not from their downfall, but from the origin of the company. While Holmes may have lied about plenty regarding the company, her stated motivation for creating Theranos seems noble on its face: their attempts to create a blood testing process which used minimal amounts of blood stemmed from Holmes fear of needles—a fear which many can relate to. Unfortunately, at the beginning of the venture, Holmes was told by multiple experts in the field that her hope of creating a full suite of tests which worked from a pinprick of blood was not viable²—advice she ignored, and which would later be proven correct. This, I think, is the most interesting part of the Theranos story: despite knowing that the reality of their dream was impossible, the company continued to sell an impossible promise. 

Another Impossible Promise

On August 8, 2025, OpenAI unveiled the long-awaited next-generation version of their large language model chatbot GPT-5 to the public, claiming it could provide “PhD-level” abilities.³ The world’s richest and most controversial man, Elon Musk, took the claim a step further, hyping up his company’s AI Grok as being “better than PhD level in everything”. In May of the same year, Mark Zuckerberg touted the ability for AI chatbots to replace human relationships and friendships.⁴ Zuckerberg has also made similarly lofty claims about Meta’s other technologies, arguing that in the future, anybody who doesn’t own and use AI glasses will “be at a disadvantage”.⁵

Increasingly, AI is being integrated into every aspect of our daily lives, with its loudest proponents claiming that it will solve all our problems. In the fast-food industry, the owners of KFC, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell claimed that they were adopting an “AI-first mentality”⁶(though the company is reportedly rethinking the approach after a customer used the AI to order 18,000 glasses of water).⁷ Interested in learning a new language? Duolingo believes that AI can help the process, with the CEO claiming AI can make employees “four or five times” as productive⁸ (though once again, their adoption of the technology has led to a significant backlash from customers who doubt its effectiveness⁹). Keen to play some games to relax? EA—the publisher of a wealth of large franchises including EA FC(formerly FIFA) and Battlefield—recently announced a 50-billion-dollar sale, relying heavily on the promise of AI to streamline development costs (though gamers and developers alike are less than thrilled). Everywhere you look, AI promises the world. But promises aren’t reality—and there are plenty of good reasons to be suspicious of those with a vested interest in the success of AI. 

The Unfortunate Truth

As a media scholar (and one of the PhD-level people that OpenAI is aiming to replace), I am deeply sceptical of AI. Many of my doubts stem from fundamental issues with how the technology works. While the title “artificial intelligence” implies a level of thought, and the term “large language model” (LLM) seems to indicate an understanding of language, the reality is that these tools neither think nor understand the meaning of words. 

A full explanation of the ways they work is beyond the scope of this article, but on the most basic level, the ways that LLMs and generative AI view language is more akin to a complex math equation. Your prompt is one side of the equals sign and the technology attempts to “solve” for the most likely response. In addition to this process being extremely power intensive (and having negative environmental impacts¹⁰), it is also the reason that despite the hyped improvements in more recent models, AI continues to suffer from widespread “hallucinations”¹¹—where the chatbot either regurgitates inaccurate information or invents entire falsehoods. Indeed, CEO of Open AI Sam Altman has admitted that hallucinations are not an engineering flaw for LLMs but a “mathematically inevitable”.¹² 

Is AI Making Us Dumber?

The issues caused by these hallucinations are significant and may further exacerbate societal issues rather than solve them. A recent report indicated that 45 per cent of AI responses based on news articles contained “significant” errors—with a whopping 81 per cent of responses having some form of issue.¹³ In this age of misinformation, relying on AI seems like a recipe for disaster. More importantly, current research points towards AI having a negative effect on its users, “eroding critical thinking skills”.¹⁴ Furthermore, while it is often thought of as neutral, numerous studies¹⁵ have exposed biases in AI models¹⁶—an unsurprising reality when one acknowledges the potential biases of their creators which may filter in.  

I could go on and on about the issues with AI (and indeed, some of my poor friends have had to endure my rants on the topic in the past). Ultimately however, all these criticisms can be summed up in one sentence. That is, the reality of AI falls drastically short of the promise its creators espouse. 

With all this in mind, I should acknowledge that I am sympathetic to those that want to believe the promise of AI. The world we live in is fundamentally broken in so many ways with political polarisation, environmental destruction and unspeakable injustice occurring daily. And that’s not even acknowledging the more mundane tasks that it could help with. The promise of a “magic bullet” technology that can ease any of the issues we face—just like the promise of a needle-free blood test—is enticing. And it is true that this technology can help in certain situations. As a tutor to international students, machine learning can be a helpful tool in translating complex ideas discussed in our courses (though it still has imperfections that need correcting). My friends who work in software engineering are adamant that it can help make the tedium of coding less strenuous (which is understandable considering coding, like LLMs, also treats language as a sort of math). AI-assisted live transcription is also potentially revolutionary for the hard of hearing. But these are individual solutions for individual problems—and we should not be forced to swallow all the issues with these AI models in order to benefit from them. 

No Silver Bullet?

The reality is, there is no one solution that will solve all our problems. AI cannot create. Every response it gives is based on the existing work of talented artists, writers and experts who it often fails to properly credit. Working as a tutor, I have seen firsthand its negative effects—seeing students inadvertently turn in assignments with invented information and incorrect sources. In seeing AI as the solution to their problems, they have only created more—and greater—problems. 

This, more than anything, is the danger of AI. Proponents like Zuckerberg and Altman want you to believe that it can enhance—or even replace—human connection, but the opposite is true. If you want to learn, create or connect, you can’t do so through AI. You should go to the source, read what others are saying and listen to the experts who have dedicated their lives to solving these problems. Step outside the tech bubble these companies want to trap you in and connect with the real world.

The truth is, no one machine can save the world, nor can any one individual. So don’t give in to the promise of the technology. Connect with reality. Connect with others.  

Article supplied with thanks to Signs of The Times

About the Author: Ryan Stanton is a PhD Graduate from the University of Sydney. A Media and Communications scholar, he is constantly torn between wanting to believe the promise of new technologies and being disappointed by the reality. 

Feature image: Canva

Yelling at children—especially younger kids—appears to be effective. They stop whatever they’re doing (or not meant to be doing) and start obeying you.

Even so, here’s why experts are recommending we reserve yelling only for when we need to protect them from impending harm or threat (such as when they’re about to run onto oncoming traffic).

1. It’s a Short-Term Solution

While yelling may indeed produce an immediate result, it doesn’t actually address the behavioural problem. In fact, a study on 13-year-olds discovered that the yelling resulted in increased levels of bad behaviour the following year.

2. They Stop Listening

Imagine someone twice your size, face contorted in anger and speaking to you in a loud voice. Surely the only thing you want to do is run away and hide. Even worse, it simply teaches the child to fear you.

3. They Yell Back

Dr Laura Markham is a clinical psychologist and author of Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids: How to Stop Yelling and Start Connecting. “Yelling scares kids. It makes them harden their hearts to us. And when we yell, kids go into fight, flight or freeze, so they stop learning whatever we’re trying to teach. What’s more, when we yell, it trains kids not to listen to us until we raise our voice. And it trains them to yell back,” she writes on her website.

If you’ve ever yelled at your children (and let’s face it, which one of us hasn’t?) be assured you haven’t done irreparable damage. As child psychiatrist Dr Kyle Pruett puts it: “[Thinking you may have done long-lasting damage by yelling at your kid is] a somewhat narcissistic view of parenting. Because there are tons of other forces at work including their own neural-developmental progress.”

So, What Should I Do?

While we really shouldn’t be yelling at our kids, it’s what we do after we yell that matters.

“If we can model apologising when we have done the wrong thing and tell our children the steps we will take to improve and change our behaviour the next time, they learn about growth,” says psychologist Collett Smart.

The secret lies in a concept experts call “rupture and repair”. Reality means that our relationships with our children will rupture at some point (or at many points in a day), through yelling, anger or frustration. The repair is the ability to talk to our children about it after, when we’ve calmed down, and apologise for the fracture. 

Needless to say, rupture and repair isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card. It doesn’t mean we can continue rupturing whenever and wherever. We still need to learn from the mistakes and do better next time. The key is to show ourselves some compassion and be able to move on from whatever we’ve done wrong.

Children don’t need a perfect parent. What they need is a loving, present parent who isn’t afraid to own their mistakes and apologise when they need to.

Melody Tan is a passionate advocate for empowering mothers through connection, faith and digital engagement. She is project manager of Mums At The Table. She lives in Sydney with her husband and their primary-school-aged son.

Article Supplied with thanks to Sign of The Times Magazine

Feature image: Canva

In 1997, Dr Gary Chapman released the book The 5 Love Languages of Children as a follow-up to his bestseller, The Five Love Languages.

The concepts that Dr Chapman shares in his book are essentially about how to increase a child’s sense of self-worth, love, belonging and role in the family. He narrowed down the ways children feel loved to five key ones (not dissimilar from the original). 

While many parents have reported the book has helped children feel more deeply understood, valued and, most of all, loved, Dr Chapman’s work is not without controversy. Critics have pointed out a lack of scientific evidence to support the theory, its vagueness and potential oversimplification of the categories, and the potential for misuse.

There is however, still merit in the ideas behind love languages in that focusing on them can help you strengthen your relationship with your child. The key is to remember, and as pointed out by Dr Chapman himself, even if your child has a dominant love language, they will benefit from all five ways of receiving love. 

It is crucial that parents still practice all five love languages. Show them love in all the languages and then teach them how to use these for themselves. The value is not only for your children but for the people with whom they will live and associate with.

Here’s a bit more about the five love languages for kids: 

1. Words of Affirmation 

Compliment them or their work. Have interactive conversations with them, both sharing your thoughts. These kids may love a good book, thoughtful gifts which include words, and heartfelt messages (think a note in the lunch box). 

2. Acts of Service

Allow them to help you and offer your help whenever appropriate. Thoughtful acts and unexpected assistance can make them feel like you appreciate them. There are lots of practical ways you can show your child you love them without saying a word. 

3. Gifts

Give them something tangible that lets them know you were thinking about them. Something in their favourite colour, animal they love or food they enjoy to show you know what they like. Gifts don’t have to be expensive or even cost at all. Be creative! 

4. Quality Time

Every child wants to connect with their primary caregiver. Quality time doesn’t necessarily look like hours on end of uninterrupted play, but it does require genuine undivided interest to make it count. 

5. Physical Touch 

All children thrive on physical contact. This could be a pat on the back, a hug, holding hands while going on a walk or a game of tickles.

Ultimately, whether or not you fully embrace Dr Chapman’s theory, intentionally expressing love in a variety of meaningful ways can only deepen your connection with your child and help them grow into secure, compassionate individuals who both recognise and generously give love.

Melody Tan is a passionate advocate for empowering mothers through connection, faith and digital engagement. She is project manager of Mums At The Table. She lives in Sydney with her husband and their primary-school-aged son.

Article Supplied with thanks to Sign of The Times Magazine

Feature image: Canva

It’s 9pm. You’ve had a long day and you’re standing in front of your open refrigerator. You know you’re not hungry. You know you said you’d stop late-night snacking. But somehow, you watch your hand reach out for the ice cream or leftover pizza. 

Later, lying in bed, you get mad at yourself. “What is wrong with me? Why don’t I have more willpower?”

Here’s the truth that might surprise you—willpower isn’t your problem. In fact, willpower as we understand it might not even be real—or at least, not in the way we think.

The Story We Tell About Willpower

For most of us, willpower feels real. It’s the thing we’re supposed to call upon when temptation strikes—the thing that separates people who achieve their goals from those who don’t. When we succeed at something difficult, we credit our determination. When we fail, we blame our weak will.

This story is deeply embedded in Western culture. Ancient Greek philosophers talked about self-control. Medieval scholars linked willpower to moral character. Victorian thinkers saw it as the foundation of discipline and virtue. Even today, we admire people with an “iron will” and shame ourselves for lacking it.

The concept is appealing because it seems to match our subjective experience. When you don’t eat that second slice of cake, it feels like you’re flexing some internal strength. When you give in, it feels like that strength has failed. 

But what if that feeling is misleading? And what if the whole framework is wrong?

It’s Too Vague to Be Useful

Ask 10 people what willpower means, and you’ll get 10 different answers. Is it resisting temptation? Persevering through difficulty? Following through on a commitment? Possessing a good character?

This vagueness makes willpower a useless concept for change. When something can mean almost anything, it explains almost nothing.

Recent research suggests that what we call “willpower” is actually a collection of different mental processes—impulse control, persistence, emotional regulation, habit strength and more. There’s no single “willpower switch” to flip.

The “Limited Tank” Theory 

You may have heard willpower described like a muscle—it gets tired with overuse, so after a day of resisting temptations, you simply run out. This “ego depletion” theory was popular for a while, but studies have found little evidence for it.

What does seem to matter is what you believe about willpower. People who think willpower is unlimited show better self-regulation than those who think it runs out. In other words, believing your willpower is depleted can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

And the opposite is also true—believing you have bucketloads of willpower can help you. But it’s not willpower doing the heavy lifting; it’s what you believe about yourself.

The Blame Game

The thing I most dislike about the willpower story is that it places all the responsibility on you as an individual, while ignoring all the other things that influence behavioural change. 

I’ve been a psychologist for the better part of 30 years and one thing I’ve come to appreciate is how much the things around you matter—where you live, who you live with, the opportunities you have and the resources you have at your disposal. It all makes a difference.

Is it easier to avoid eating biscuits when they’re in a jar on your kitchen counter or when they’re still on the supermarket shelf? Is it easier to go to the gym when it’s two minutes from home or half an hour’s drive? Is it easier to change a habit when your friends are doing the same, or when they’re still doing what you’re trying to stop?

Your environment matters enormously. So do your skills and knowledge. So does whether the change aligns with what you truly value, not just what you think you should want.

When we frame everything as a willpower problem, we overlook these other factors. Worse, when we struggle—as we almost always do at some stage—we conclude that we’re weak or flawed, rather than recognising that the conditions for change weren’t in place.

This self-blame creates shame. And shame is one of the biggest barriers to meaningful change because it makes us less likely to seek help or be honest about our struggles.

It Doesn’t Explain How We Keep Things Going

Most successful behaviour change doesn’t feel like an act of will after a while.

When you first start exercising, it might require significant mental effort to get yourself to the gym. But after several months, it usually becomes automatic. That’s not because your willpower got stronger—it’s because you built a habit that matters to you.

Think about brushing your teeth. I’m certain you don’t use willpower for that. It’s become a stable routine, most likely paired with another routine—like what you do after breakfast or before you go to bed—and it communicates important information about who you are. Ie, I’m someone who looks after my teeth).

So if willpower isn’t the answer, what is? Modern psychology offers far more useful frameworks.

Understand Your Emotions

Many behaviours we might see as willpower failures are actually “emotional regulation” challenges. You’re not eating because you’re weak-willed; you’re eating because you’re stressed and haven’t learned other ways to comfort yourself. You’re not avoiding the gym because you’re lazy; you’re avoiding it because exercise triggers anxiety about your body, feelings of physical discomfort or because you worry about all the things you’re not doing while you’re at the gym.

When you learn to identify and work with your emotions—rather than ignoring them and trying to “will” yourself to act—change becomes much easier.

Redesign Your Environment

Make the healthy choice the easy choice. This is the principle behind “nudging”—making small changes to your environment that guide you toward better decisions.

Want to eat more vegetables? Put them at eye level in your fridge and pre-chop them so they’re ready to go. Want to read more? Put your phone in another room and leave a book on your coffee table or pillow. Want to save money? Set up automatic transfers on pay day so you just don’t see the money in your account. Small changes like this make new behaviours much easier.

Build Skill, Not Will

Sometimes what we call a willpower gap is actually a skill gap. You don’t lack the will to eat healthily—you lack the skill to cook or meal plan. You don’t lack the will to manage your money; you lack the skill to budget, or simply financial literacy.

Seeing change in this way gives you something to act on. Skills can be learned. But you can’t simply “will” yourself to have more will.

A More Compassionate Way Forward

The willpower story is seductive because it’s simple and because it aligns with a lot of societal, cultural and even religious messages we’ve been raised with. But it makes change feel like a moral test you’re always failing. It keeps you stuck in cycles of self-blame instead of solving problems.

The good news is you don’t need more willpower. Here’s what you need to do:

• Address the emotions driving unwanted behaviours
• Design environments that support your goals
• Build habits that make good choices easier
• Develop specific skills for specific challenges
• Connect your actions to values that matter to you

This approach treats yourself as a whole person navigating complex circumstances, not as a moral failure who just needs to “try harder.”

So next next time you find yourself standing at the refrigerator at 9pm, instead of asking, “Why don’t I have more willpower?” ask, “What emotion am I trying to manage right now?”

Once you’ve answered that, then ask, “How else can I satisfy that need?”

Those questions will lead you somewhere useful—to greater understanding of yourself and your needs. The willpower question just leads to shame. And you know you deserve better than that.

Want To Know More?

If you’re interested in exploring these ideas further, here are some great books that challenge the willpower myth and offer practical alternatives to managing change in your life:

Atomic Habits by James Clear

Tiny Habits by BJ Fogg

Switch: How to Change When Change Is Hard by Chip and Dan Heath

The Willpower Instinct by Kelly McGonigal

Mindset by Carol Dweck

Article provided by Signs of The Times Magazine

Simon Matthews is a psychologist and leadership coach. He is a dual Fellow of both the American College and the Australasian Society of Lifestyle Medicine. He is an adjunct lecturer at Avondale University Lifestyle Medicine & Health Research Centre. He loves talking about his passions of travelling and cooking. He writes from Madrid, Spain.

Feature image: Canva

If your mind was a home, would you choose to live there? If your thoughts were visitors, would you let them in? Who would you ignore? Who would never make it through the door? 

Our brains are great at telling stories, again and again. Not all of them are helpful or true. We tend to stress over tomorrow or ruminate on yesterday, rehashing old arguments, fearing the hypothetical, obsessing over things that are out of our control. But it does not have to be this way. You can make your mind a better place in which to live. 

Recently, a friend of mine sent me a song by Ellie Holcomb. The words hit me like a flood of light into a dark, lonely room:

“Where can I go from Your Spirit? 
Where can I go from Your presence? 
If I go up to the heavens, You are there 
If I make my bed in the depths, You are there!”

These lyrics come straight from the Psalms, a book of songs and poetry in the Bible. This one says that God is everywhere, all the time. His presence is not restricted to a single place or state of mind. He is with me at church; He is with me at soccer training; He is with me on the drive to work. God is here when I am at my best, when I am my worst- and He is everywhere in between. He does not change and He never leaves. I knew this, cognitively, but my body had forgotten how close and how kind God really is. So, He used a song to remind me. 

There is a song in the Psalms for every situation: grief, joy, anger, gratitude, confusion—you name it. 

Several months ago, I sat down at the piano, feeling rejected after an awkward conversation. I opened my Bible to Psalm 57 and started singing the words.

“Be merciful to me, O God! 
Be merciful
For in You my soul takes refuge
In the shadow of Your wings
I will take refuge
‘Til the storms of destruction pass by.”

Within minutes, my heart was soothed.  

Another night, I found myself in a panic: tight chest, anxious mind. I picked up my guitar and started to sing Psalm 27: 

“The Lord is my light and my salvation: 
whom shall I fear? 
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
Of whom shall I be afraid?”

That night, I sang and sang and sang and each word drove the fear further away. 

Another day, a Psalm caught me mid-spiral. I was feeling frustrated when a song from the Psalms started playing in the back of my mind. It felt like an invisible hand slowly turned up the music until my anger subsided. 

When we feel frozen, frazzled or frightened, music cuts through the fog in a way that words alone cannot. It is tempting to turn to temporary fixes when life becomes unbearable. We can numb ourselves by scrolling through our phones, swallowing whatever the algorithm offers. Some of us overwork, others overeat, others oversleep or rely on other vices. We have a cornucopia of distractions at our fingertips, ready to alleviate our suffering. But where do we go when the numbness fades and the ache returns? 

The Bible is not an anesthetic. The Psalms do not shy away from pain. These songs cut right into the human heart, their words full of questions, complaints and desperate cries. They are also full of gratitude and beauty. There is no shallow comfort here, only rich, hard-earned hope and tear-stained cheeks. God gives us joy through the ache, instead of an escape.

Some of my dearest friendships have been deepened through conflict and hard conversations. The Psalms constantly teach me how to talk with God like a friend. They give me words to pray when I do not have any of my own. Many were written to be sung, not read. I love reading the Psalms but singing them weaves each word right into the fabric of my mind. 

The first chapter in the Psalms promises a blessing to anyone who delights in God’s instruction, thinking about it “day and night”. That person will become like a tree planted by rivers of water that produces fruit in its season. Its leaves will not wither and whatever he does will prosper. That is a bold claim to make right at the start of the book—one worth testing out. 

Does your life feel dry? Fruitless? Like you are withering away? Get a Bible, choose a section and chew on it for a while. Let it run through your mind, again and again. The Psalms are a great place to start, they are honest and hopeful, rich in comfort. I cannot think of anything better to have stuck in my head. 

Article supplied with thanks to Signs Of the Times

Kemy Ogendi wries from Central Australia. She is currently working on a handful of music projects in Alice Springs, one including several Psalms. You can listen to her music here.

Feature image: Supplied

Recently I was at my friend Brendan’s house preparing for a camping trip. One of my favourite things is getting away for the weekend—escaping the hustle and bustle of modern life, immersing myself in nature and exploring new places with friends—with the boys!

We had a few jobs to do with the vehicles and equipment before we hit the road. As we headed out to the shed, Brendan said to his three-year-old son, “Jonty, do you want to come out to the shed with Josh and I to help us?” Without hesitation Jonty threw his arms in the air, sprinting flat-stick towards the shed, and shouted with delight, “Maaaan stuff!”

That memory brings a smile to my face as I think about Jonty’s joy. But it also makes me wonder—what exactly is “man stuff”? More importantly, what does it really mean to be a man?

Defining Masculinity

This question can seem somewhat provocative in our current cultural moment. What is a man? Is it merely the possession of an X and Y chromosome? And perhaps more importantly, what is it that makes a man great?

Sometimes it can help to define what something is by looking at what it’s not. It’s easy to recognise when men fall short of the mark, when they fail to meet society’s expectations. The term “toxic masculinity” is used to describe when a man sinks beneath the ideal. But are all forms of masculinity toxic? Is there an ideal version that’s missing from the world today? 

First, Failure 

How do we know when men have failed? Throughout history there have been numerous great men that we have looked up to as ideals. And yet, even the greatest among them were imperfect. Perhaps you can recall a public scandal—a presidential affair or an elite athlete brought down by substance abuse. 

These are public examples, but many failures happen in private: fathers who abandon their families; boyfriends who physically or emotionally abuse their partner; men who use strength or power to dominate or manipulate. 

At their core, these failings come down to a lack of self-control—abusing power and strength at the expense of others, typically the vulnerable. That’s what I mean when I use the term toxic masculinity: dominating those who can’t fight back. 

But to be clear, it’s not just a male problem—it’s a human problem. Toxic humanity. The depravity of the human heart. Ultimately it boils down to self-centredness, self-preservation, anti-love—or as we Christians call it, sin. This problem plays out in our natural makeup of either masculine or feminine, but the root issue is the same.

To dig deeper would be beyond the scope of this article so I’m going to focus on the masculine side, which raises the question: why does this happen? What leads to the downfall of men?

Peter Pan Syndrome

One reason many men struggle is because of a lack of solid masculine role models in their lives. Psychologist Jordan Peterson refers to this as the “Peter Pan” syndrome. Peter Pan is an eternal child—full of potential—and that’s the problem. Peter Pan never grows up. You can hardly blame him, though. His model of manhood is none other than Captain Hook—a dangerous man, driven by fear of his impending demise, spiralling into chaotic and violent madness. Hook is hardly a role model worth aspiring to. 

And so, Peter’s potential remains unrealised. Sure, he’s king of the Lost Boys, but that’s hardly something to strive for. He has the opportunity to connect with a real girl, Wendy, yet instead prefers the company of Tinkerbell, the fairy. Sadly, that’s not far from reality today—a generation of young men who’d rather stay home with the comforts of OnlyFans than take the risk of pursuing something meaningful—and risky—with a real woman. After all, a woman on OnlyFans is always available and won’t reject your advances.

Where Do I Look?  

The best example I’ve found of healthy masculinity is none other than Jesus of Nazareth. This might surprise some, especially because of effeminate artistic depictions of Him throughout history. Despite this, I would argue that Jesus is the epitome of what it truly means to be a man.

Jesus was a first-century Middle Eastern tradesman, a countercultural revolutionary and a fearless man full of passion and empathy. He was a teacher, but also a voice for the voiceless and oppressed. He wasn’t petty. He was humble and patient, able to absorb cruelty without retaliation. Yet when it came to the oppressed, He was relentless—a defender of the defenceless and a liberator of the burdened. 

Jesus was a man in the truest sense of the word. So, what empowered Him to be the man He was?

He Who Has A Why

One of the defining features of Jesus’ life was His purpose. Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl once wrote, “He who has a why can push through any what.” In other words, having a clear purpose is vital for men to thrive—especially when navigating the inevitable obstacles and difficulties of life. Frankl observed that in the Nazi concentration camps, men who lost their sense of purpose were the first to crawl up in the corner and literally die. 

You may not be immediately threatened with death but without purpose, you’ll likely pursue pleasure—pleasure to distract yourself from the pain that comes from a meaningless life. Without purpose, you remain a boy, attempting to avoid the challenges of becoming like the men you once admired or have come to despise.

Throughout history, men have taken a stand when they had a clear “why”. Purpose enabled and transformed boys into men. From that foundation of a clear purpose flow courage, bravery and service.

Power Under Control

Being a man isn’t just about strength—it’s about strength under control. In the words of author Ty Gibson, “True masculinity is power under (self) control. It can then flash forward when it’s needed to defend the defenceless, but always under the control of righteousness and love.”

That’s true masculinity. It takes far more strength to control our temper than to fly off the handle in a fit of rage. It takes far more strength to serve than to be served. True masculinity is power under control—power to protect, power to serve, power to empower. When that power becomes self-serving and self-centred, it crosses into the realm of toxicity. 

In the words of 19th-century writer Ellen Write, “The greatest want of the world is the want of men—men who will not be bought or sold . . . men who will stand for the right though the heavens fall.”

Throughout history great men have stood against tyranny, liberated the oppressed, defended the powerless and sacrificed themselves for the good of others.

Strength in Numbers

One of the most detrimental misconceptions I held growing up was the belief that being a man meant going at it alone—suffering in silence. As I’ve matured, I’ve learned how detrimental that idea is. The truth is, it’s a sign of strength to ask for help. Motivational speaker Les Brown once said, “We ask for help, not because we are weak, but so that we can remain strong.”

In a world full of chaos, we need men who will stand—men willing to grow up, who will move on from Neverland and step into a life of purpose. The world needs men who not only live up to their potential but empower others to live up to theirs—not for their own glory, but for the greater good of everyone they encounter. 

It’s time for men to become more like Jesus.

This article is supplied with thanks to Signs of The Times

Joshua Newbegin is a coach, minister and communicator passionate about helping people grow through clarity, courage and connection. He is the founder of Kaizen Coaching Solutions and host of the Unchained Brotherhood podcast.

Feature image: Canva

When Swiss soccer player Silvan Wallner discovered the biblical Sabbath, he immediately knew he’d have to make the hardest decision of his life.

I never imagined that I’d walk away from my childhood dream. From the age of five, soccer was my whole life. By 12, I had joined the youth team of the main club in Zurich, Switzerland. And at 18, I signed my first professional contract for FC Zürich. But my story isn’t just about soccer—it’s about what led me to step away from it to follow Jesus. 

It all started when my parents divorced when I was 14. This was a huge shock and turning point in my life. A few years later, my dad remarried a Seventh-day Adventist woman. She would mention the Bible to me and share stories and illustrations about life from people like Abraham. I didn’t understand much, but I always listened. I remember her telling me one day that she loved Jesus. I was confused. “You love Jesus? What do you mean? Like how you love my dad?”

Soccer Is Life

Before meeting her, I believed there was a God, but He didn’t mean much to me. I’d had a few Catholic classes at school, and we celebrated Christmas—but that was about it. Faith wasn’t a part of my everyday life. My life revolved around soccer: training, eating, sleeping then doing it all over again.

During my first three years as a professional soccer player, I was challenged with ups and downs. From being the new star and winning the league title, to making mistakes in front of thousands of fans for everyone on television to see. The pressure of this environment made me afraid of making it any further. 

When I was 22, I got injured on the field and wasn’t able to play for a period. I was living alone at the time and the downtime gave me space to focus on myself—on my personality, character and confidence. I worked really hard on my mental state and the motto that kept me going was this: never give up.This mindset drove everything I did on and off the field. During that period, my dad sent me a video of a preacher talking about the importance of structure and taking steps forward in life. He shared stories about Jesus and spoke of the peace that comes from Him.  For the first time, it really resonated with me, and I began to question what God wanted for my life.  

On Top Of The World

With my weekends now free due to being injured, I was able to go to church for the first time. I visited the Seventh-day Adventist church my family attended and I found it interesting. I began reading the Bible for myself and was inspired by Jesus’ life, as well as the values and stories inside. It stirred something in me—a desire to change, to think and act like Jesus. Yet at the same time, I was determined to give everything to succeed in my career. 

Shortly after training camp, I was back on the field. I got thrown into a match playing on my weaker foot after two players were substituted. The next game, I played again. Then before I knew it, I was competing in the European Conference League in Portugal in front of 30,000 fans against a big club called Vitória Guimarães SC. It was the peak of my career—some of the best games of my life. I felt like I’d finally made it and was on track to reach my goals.

Meanwhile, I continued to read the Bible each morning and prior to each match I’d pray, “God, thank you that I can play. Please give me courage and keep me healthy.” I felt a real peace in my life and was less nervous. It was like God was guiding me.   

But five weeks later, after an under-21-years Swiss national team break where we played in the qualification round for the European tournament, my path took a new turn. I moved to a new club in Austria, signed a new contract for FC Blau-Weiss Linz and transitioned from Zürich with my belongings and my car to the city of Linz. I would be playing in the championship of the highest league in Austria.

“I think I need To Quit”

One Saturday before a game, I was listening to a sermon after my morning training. The pastor started talking about the Sabbath—how God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh, blessing it as a day of worship and rest. As a professional athlete, I always played on Saturdays. I’d never seen soccer as work because it was fun—it was my passion. But the message hit me hard. I remember thinking, Does this mean I have to quit my career? My conscience was hit. I was devastated.

I instantly called a friend of mine who I played soccer with who had also started reading the Bible recently. I told him what I had heard and said, “Hey, I think we need to quit.” He was very supportive, but also curious and wanted to learn more. He told me, “Wait. Let’s see.” I played my game but the whole time, I was thinking about what I’d heard. In my doubts, I later called my stepmother and told her what I’d learnt. “I think I need to quit my career,” I said. She replied, “I won’t tell you what to do. You know the truth. Take your time with God.”  

So, I began praying and begging God for an answer. Up until this point, I’d read through Genesis and the four Gospels, but not much more. But how was I supposed to know what God wanted me to do? That night I opened my Bible to a random page and my eyes fell on Exodus 31, titled “The Sabbath Law”. It read, “Surely My Sabbaths you shall keep, for it is a sign between Me and you throughout your generations, that you may know that I am the Lord who sanctifies you. Work shall be done for six days, but the seventh is the Sabbath of rest, holy to the Lord . . . for in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, and on the seventh day He rested and was refreshed.”

Out of all the passages in the Bible, this is what I opened to. I felt like I was in a movie. But still, I wasn’t sure. So, I went through all the passages that talked about the Sabbath. 

The following morning, I continued to pray. I went into the forest to spend time with God and wrestled with whether or not I should quit. “Is this really what You want?” I cried out. I felt like I had one foot on one side, and the other on another. Yet I considered myself a loyal person and wanted to know the truth. 

With tears in my eyes, I started feeling and saying for the first time, “Jesus, I love You, I love You.” Still without an answer, I prayed, “God, if this is what You want me to do, I will do it. But if it’s the wrong thing, You need to intervene.” As I was walking back to my car, I felt light, like a burden had been lifted. 

Driving home, I heard myself thinking, You could quit. I started to think about all the things I could do on my weekends. Skiing, visiting family and spending time with my friends, not having a strict schedule. But then it hit me. Wait. What’s going on? All my life I had been obsessed with soccer. It was my dream to play at the top level. And just like that, You can quit? How had my desires changed so quickly? How had I gone from playing professional soccer, to thinking about all the things I had to look forward to without it? My whole life’s purpose was to make the next step to a bigger club in a top five league—I had already made it into a top 10 league.  

Three days later I went back to my Bible and prayed desperately for a long time. Once again, I held it by the cover and let it fall open naturally. It opened to the index. On the left side were words beginning with R, and on the right page were words starting with S—under which the Sabbath verses were listed. My mind was blown. I was flooded with a sense of joy that I jumped off my seat. 

The only problem was that I wasn’t sure how to quit. I had signed a two-year contract only three months earlier, and the club had just transferred me. After talking with my family, I decided to finish up the rest of the year. But a week later, I played what became my last game. On the field I felt weary and guilty, and wanted to obey God right away. I told the sporting director and staff everything. Though they were disappointed, they respected my decision, supported me and thanks to God, allowed me to end my contract.   

Soon after, my story went public. Headlines read: “End of a career at 22. I want to follow Jesus Christ.” The news went viral. People from Brazil, Kenya, China and all over Europe wrote to me. The whole sports world was stunned by my decision. During this time, I was filled with peace unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. God protected my thoughts, and constantly comforted me. Those were the most beautiful weeks of my life. But it was just the beginning of a new life—one filled with peace, joy and a relationship with Jesus.   

What’s Next?

Of course I’ve been asking myself, What now? What is my path from here? And honestly, I don’t know what my future holds. I’m learning so much about who God is and He’s changing my life. But even here, in the unknown, I know that quitting soccer was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. 

Jesus says, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it. For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and is himself destroyed or lost?” (Matthew 16:24-25).

My question for you is this: what are you seeking? Because from what I’ve found, our deepest desire is for Jesus and only God’s love can truly fulfil us. 

Silvan Wallner is a former professional soccer player who left the game to focus on his faith. He recently completed the ARISE Bible training school in Kingscliff, Australia and has since moved to the United States of America. He is originally from Switzerland.

Article Supplied with thanks to Sign of The Times

Feature image: Supplied (Supplied and Used With Permission)

Was the Pax Romana really a time of peace?

On September 23, 63 BC, in the Italian city of Velitrae, a single bolt of lightning struck the city walls. Bewildered by this and wondering what it portended, the people turned to a local oracle for answers. The historian Suetonius tells us the oracle interpreted it as a good omen: that one day, a citizen of Velitrae would rule the world. As fate would have it, on the very same day, a baby boy was born to a minor noble family at their estate outside the city. This family was relatively unimportant, with its only claim being distantly related to Julius Caesar. The couple gave the child his father’s name: Gaius Octavius (or “Octavian”). For the next three decades he would go by this name until, at the age of 35, a new name would be bestowed upon him—a name that the world would remember him by forever: Augustus.

What Was the Pax?

The Pax Romana (“Roman Peace”) is often framed as a 200-year period of relative peace and prosperity in the Roman Empire. Originally just a distant relation, the fate of Octavian changed when Caesar formally adopted him and named him his heir, catapulting the young man into a civil war between several factions. Perhaps tellingly, the Pax is thought to have begun when Octavius defeated Mark Antony and Cleopatra at the Battle of Actium in 31 BC—becoming Rome’s first emperor. It might seem strange to mark the beginning of a period of peace with a battle, but such was the way of Rome. 

“Peace came from victory and strength, and prestige so overwhelming that in future no aggressor would dare risk going to war. This was how Augustus had ended civil war, and this is how he and the Romans would eventually achieve peace in the wider world.” 

When Octavian was appointed Princeps (“first citizen”) of Rome, it marked a rapid change within Roman politics. Quickly the Senate gave him the title “Augustus”, roughly translated to “Revered One”. Augustus would go on to become Rome’s longest-serving leader, transforming it completely and establishing a dynasty that would dominate the empire for centuries. 

Throughout his reign, Augustus acquired as many titles as he did territories. As the centre of Roman religion, he was Pontifex Maximus(“Chief Priest”). He referred to himself as Divi Filius (“Son of the Divine”) after the Senate posthumously made Caesar a god. In the eastern provinces, he was known as Soter(“Saviour”) and Kyrios (“Lord”). But perhaps most surprisingly to those familiar with his life is the inscription discovered in modern-day Turkey that called him Princeps Pacis (“Prince of Peace”). 

Scholar Mary Beard has written extensively on this contradiction. When Octavian entered the Roman political world, it wasn’t as Caesar’s aggrieved heir—it was as a thug. She notes how the use of Octavian’s own private army to pressure the Senate to accept his rule (a common tactic and one most effectively employed by Caesar himself) would read today more like a military coup. Once, he dressed as the god Apollo at a lavish banquet and fancy-dress party—while the common people starved on account of the war he himself was fighting. In one particularly gruesome account, Octavian was reputed to have personally ripped the eyeballs out of a bureaucrat he suspected was plotting against him.

The Measure of The Man

Augustus’s reign and subsequent Pax were just as much marked by violence as the conflicts that preceded him. Military campaigns undertaken during his rule stretched from Spain in the west to Armenia in the east, and from modern-day Egypt in the south to Germany in the north. This entire time, the traditional Roman practice of war remained in full force: grace and taxation exerted over submissive polities with slaughter and slavery doled out to resisters. This begs the question: is the Pax Romana a myth? After all, even primary school-aged children learn stories like the assassination of Caligula, the great fire of Rome (which Nero supposedly observed while playing his lyre) and the bloody siege of Jerusalem. 

In some ways, the Pax is indeed a farce. However, some reframing might help us better understand it. The Pax was not the absence of war—it was rather the suppression of war through domination. To the Romans, as Beard points out, the Pax was the “peace of victory”, achieved through violent enforcement. As Virgil (who was on Augustus’s payroll) writes into the mouth of Jupiter in the Aeneid: “Imperium sine fine”—“I have given them empire without end”. 

The Other End of The Empire

It’s into this world that a baby was born in the province of Judea. Unlike Augustus, this child wasn’t born in an estate. Unlike Augustus, this child’s birth wasn’t announced by a bolt of lightning. And unlike Augustus, this child would not grow up to become an emperor. However, this child would go on to share something in common with Augustus: his title, Princeps Pacis, the “Prince of Peace”. 

Centuries earlier, the Hebrew Isaiah had prophesied: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). This prediction contributed to a larger tradition that had begun in the Garden of Eden when God Himself promised, following the expulsion of Adam and Eve, that one day a zaraka (descendant) would permanently break the power of evil and death—but at great cost. Luke tells us, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world” (Luke 2:1). Because Joseph, Jesus’ father, was from Bethlehem, he was forced to undertake the journey back to his birthplace with his heavily pregnant wife, Mary. As there was no public accommodation available, they were forced to stay in a squalid animal shed. And yet, on the night of Jesus’ birth, an angel appeared to herald His arrival—not to some local oracle, but to a group of shepherds camping out in the fields nearby. “Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly, a “great company of the heavenly host” appeared, saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom His favour rests” (Luke 2:11–14). 

The Peace That Passes Understanding

Even though Jesus did not personally claim the title “Prince of Peace” for Himself, His message nevertheless provided a challenge to the kind of peace Augustus was bringing to the world. Jesus was explicit about this when He said, “My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (John 14:27). When reflecting on Jesus’ breaking down of barriers between Jews and Gentiles, the apostle Paul said, “For He Himself is our peace . . . His purpose was to create in Himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace” (Ephesians 2:14,15, italics added). Jesus preached about a kingdom that had already “come near” (Mark 1:15). He spoke of an ekklesia3 that even the power of Hades4 would not be able to overcome (Matthew 16:18). And when His followers began to refer to Jesus as the “Son of God”, Soter (“Saviour”) and Kyrios (“Lord”), it would have sounded like sedition against the emperor—the only one worthy of such appellations. 

In many ways, the time in which we live is a similar kind of Pax. Most of us (particularly in the West) live in relative peace and comfort and yet, we are beset by turmoil at all sides. Wars rage in distant lands—and we are constantly made aware of them through the news and social media. Huge corporations hoard enormous amounts of wealth while ordinary people struggle to put food on the table. Random acts of violence are committed seemingly without rhyme or reason. This creates an unsettling paradox: that we are safer than we’ve ever been in human history but, thanks to the interconnected world we all share, we’re more vulnerable in different ways than our ancestors ever were. Though the risk of being brutalised by a roving band of brigands on a Sunday afternoon outing is far less than for those living in ancient Rome, by the same token, those ancients never had to deal with drones, deepfakes or data breaches. In some ways, the Pax we all rely on for safety and security today is as farcical as the one inaugurated under Augustus. Our Pax is just as tied up with dirty politics, corporate greed and the threat of violence as the Pax of 2000 years ago. 

As historian (and not Spider-Man) Tom Holland put it, “Universal though the Pax Romanareigned, no one ever doubted what it was founded upon. Peace was the fruit of victory—eternal victory. It was a soldier in the wilds beyond Palestine, scratching on a rock face, who put it best, perhaps: ‘The Romans always win’.” And yet, here lies the contradiction, for as time has proven, even “empires without end” can, in fact, end. Rome, for all its strength, splendour and talent for slaughter and subjugation, eventually fell apart. Perhaps to us, its decline appears inevitable but to its inhabitants—certainly its emperors—such a thing must have seemed impossible. 

Despots and Dictators

There are those today who would take on the mantle of Rome—who would echo its memory, its might, its dominance. Such people are strongmen, bullies, wannabe-emperors. And yet, the tools of Rome—violence, suppression, the need for ultimate control, among others—carry within them the seed of its own destruction. We can look back to Rome and see its fall as inevitable because we in the West have been so radically transformed, not by Augustus, who claimed to be the Prince of Peace, but by Jesus, who is the true Prince of Peace. 

While the peace of Augustus was achieved through military conquest, the peace of Jesus was achieved through self-giving, others-centred love. 

While the tools of Augustus were violence, fear and suppression, the tools of Jesus were forgiveness, reconciliation and self-sacrifice. 

While the Pax Romana extended only to the citizens of Rome, the Pax Deus (Peace of God) of Jesus was for all humanity—past, present, future. 

While Augustus’s “empire without end” lasted only a few hundred years, Jesus’ kingdom will last for eternity. While Augustus’s symbol was the sword, Christ’s symbol was the cross—a Roman torture device whose meaning Jesus subverted. 

And while the ethos of Rome was Pax per virtutem, “Peace through power”, the ethos of Jesus was Pax per caritatem, “Peace through love”. 

I don’t know about you, but I know which empire I’d rather pledge my allegiance to. 

Article supplied with thanks to Sign of the Times Magazine.

About the Author: Jesse Herford is a pastor and associate editor for Signs of the Times South Pacific

Feature image: Supplied

The health world is having a protein moment. But dieticians warn our obsession may be starving us of other essentials such as fibre, minerals and phytonutrients.

Protein powders in neon tubs. Protein popcorn. Protein bars disguised as candy. Protein ice-cream. Protein cereals that taste suspiciously like dessert.

Don’t get me wrong—protein is essential. It builds muscle, repairs tissues and keeps you feeling full. But somewhere along the way, our obsession with protein has crowded out other equally important nutrients. And here’s the kicker: when you zoom out on actual public health data, protein deficiency is rare. Most people in developed countries get more than enough each day—often double the recommended intake. Meanwhile, many of us are falling short on:

• Fibre
• Key minerals like magnesium and potassium
• Phytonutrients: plant compounds that quietly protect your cells every day

It’s time to pull the spotlight back onto the supporting cast that’s been waiting in the wings. A body built on only protein is like a house with sturdy walls but no plumbing, wiring or roof. Strong, but incomplete.

The Forgotten Hero: Fibre 

Fibre isn’t flashy. It doesn’t show up in gym selfies or get branded as “sexy” by supplement companies. But it’s the one nutrient that consistently tops the charts for underconsumption. Here’s what makes fibre so underrated:

• Blood sugar balance: Soluble fibre slows digestion, preventing the rollercoaster spikes and crashes that leave you cranky and craving sugar.
• Gut fuel: Fibre is basically a buffet for your good gut bacteria, which produce short-chain fatty acids that lower inflammation and boost immunity.
• Hormone helper: A fibre-rich diet helps regulate estrogen by binding excess hormones and carrying them out of the body.
• Detox without the juice cleanse: Fibre literally keeps things moving, helping your body flush out waste and toxins daily.

Most adults need around 25–38 grams per day. The average intake hovers around just 15 grams per day.

Where to find it: beans, lentils, oats, linseed, chia seeds, vegetables or fruit. Keep in mind, a sudden fibre jump can cause bloating, gas or cramping. Add it slowly—an extra piece of fruit here, half a cup of beans there. And stay hydrated so your digestive system doesn’t stage a protest. 

The Mineral Gap Nobody Talks About

The hype on protein has also pushed us away from caring about minerals. And minerals are like the quiet backstage crew that makes sure the show even runs at all. 

• Magnesium: essential for over 300 enzymatic reactions in the body. Translation: your muscles, nerves and energy production can’t function without it. Yet about half of us fall short.
• Potassium: balances sodium, supports blood pressure and improves heart health. Bananas have good PR but beans, potatoes, leafy greens and coconut water also contain potassium.
• Zinc and selenium: crucial for immune resilience. You don’t notice them working—until you get run down and realise your diet has been slacking. Unlike protein, minerals don’t hog the spotlight. They’re hiding in produce, nuts, seeds and wholegrains—the very foods that get pushed aside when “high-protein” convenience takes over. 

Phytonutrients: The Secret Bodyguards

You know those vibrant pigments that make blueberries blue, spinach green and turmeric golden? They’re not just there for show. They’re working overtime as your cellular security team.

• Flavonoids in berries and citrus reduce oxidative stress—a fancy way of saying they keep your cells young.
• Carotenoids in carrots and squash protect vision and skin.
• Sulforaphane in broccoli sprouts (and other cruciferous vegetables like kale and brussels sprouts) boosts your body’s natural detox system and switches on its own antioxidant defences.

And here’s the wild part: phytonutrients don’t just add “bonus” benefits—they help other nutrients you’re eating work better. For example, vitamin C in an orange is absorbed more effectively because it comes packaged with flavonoids in the fruit. That natural teamwork makes the nutrients more powerful together than they would be alone. A protein shake can’t do that. 

The Protein Trap

Here’s the irony: too much protein can backfire.

• Kidney strain: if you already have compromised kidney function, excess protein creates extra workload.
• Nutrient displacement: loading up on protein bars and shakes leaves less room for foods rich in fibre, minerals and phytonutrients.
• Inflammation: many “protein foods” (bars, snacks, powders) are highly processed and come loaded with sugars, oils and artificial sweeteners that stress your body more than they help.

I’m not trying to demonise protein—I’m just advocating for balance. If you’re lifting heavy, recovering from illness or breastfeeding, your protein needs will be higher. But if your diet looks like this—eggs and protein smoothie for breakfast, chicken salad for lunch, steak for dinner, plus a protein bar in between—you may be overloading one nutrient while starving your body of dozens of others.

How To Shift The Spotlight

Here’s how to bring things back into balance:

• Build your plate by colour, not just protein. Next time you go to the store, ask yourself: how many colours can I put in my basket? Purple cabbage, red capsicums, dark leafy greens, yellow squash. That’s your phytonutrient insurance policy.
• Swap high-protein snacks for high-fibre snacks. Instead of a protein bar, try apple slices with almond butter, hummus with veggie sticks or chia pudding. You’ll get protein plus fibre, minerals and healthy fats. 
• Rethink recovery meals. Yes, muscles need protein. But they also need antioxidants to repair oxidative stress. Add spinach, blueberries or chia into your post-workout smoothie. 
• Trace your shortfalls. Track your diet for a couple days. Are you consistently low in magnesium or fibre? Let that guide your next grocery run instead of just grabbing the highest protein option.

A Reframe We All Need

Protein matters. No-one’s arguing that it doesn’t. But it’s not the only nutrient your body needs to thrive.

Think of nutrition like an orchestra. Protein is the percussion: steady, foundational, always there. But without the violins (fibre), brass (minerals) and flutes (phytonutrients), the music falls flat.

So the next time you see another protein-packed cereal or viral recipe, pause and ask: what’s missing from this picture? Your body doesn’t just need strong muscles. It needs resilient cells, balanced hormones, smooth digestion and a thriving gut microbiome. Those come from the nutrients we’re not talking about enough. Yes, the health world is having a protein moment. But the bigger picture is that most of us already get plenty—while missing the silent essentials: fibre, minerals and phytonutrients. Shifting even one meal a day toward these can noticeably boost your energy, digestion and long-term wellness.

So, go ahead, enjoy your protein shake. Just toss in some spinach, sprinkle linseed on top and pair it with a baked sweet potato. Your future self will thank you.

Article supplied with thanks to Sign of the Times Magazine.

About the Author: Sisi Toro is a Hawaiian-based health educator and speaker who promotes a plant-based life. She enjoys creating recipes, hiking mountains and going to the beach.

Feature image: Canva

On Christmas Day, 1914, bitter enemies laid down their weapons and for a brief moment, gave peace a chance.

In 1914, an unlikely event took place so unexpected that it’s often believed to be a myth. Yet there is good historical evidence that it indeed happened. 

“The Christmas truce” refers to Christmas Day during The Great War (World War I) when German and British soldiers on the front line of the Western Front put down their weapons and celebrated Christmas together. Instead of shooting each other, as they had been doing, they sang Christmas carols, buried their dead, exchanged gifts and even played football (soccer). 

These men, who had been mortal enemies, decided for a brief time in the middle of unimaginable horror, that they would celebrate Christmas, sometimes against the wishes of their commanders. 

The Great War had been brewing for some time before it broke out in Europe. Many of the young men (especially the Germans) had been raised on a wave of nationalistic pride. Told they would be embarking on an adventure and that the war would be over by Christmas, eager volunteers signed up across Europe. Yet, crushing reality soon sank in. The trenches were dirty, held stagnant water and were a breeding ground for disease. In his poignant poetry documenting the war, Wilfred Owen, who was killed just months before the Armistice, paints the picture of a young man who has been gassed, thrown on a wagon “eyes writhing in his face”, blood “gargling from froth-corrupted lungs”. 

The poet finishes his poem with these lines. 

“My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.”1

“Sweet and fitting it is to die for one’s country.” That Latin saying had been a catchcry glorifying and softening the brutal, life-ending realities of war. The young men who were told they would sweep in and vanquish the enemy, returning to a heroes’ welcome, soon woke up from their fantasy, senses assaulted by the insistent boom of shells, the clinging mud and stink of the trenches. 

Yet on Christmas Day, 1914, some places along the front saw a break in the fighting. Reports from the Imperial War Museum (IWM) verify the soldiers’ tales. 

The IWM documentary The Christmas Truce features recorded interviews with soldiers who experienced this unlikely event. 

Marmaduke Walkinton of the Queen’s Westminsters said, “We were in the front line. We were about 300 yards from the Germans . . . on Christmas Eve, we’d been singing carols and this, that and the other, and the Germans had been doing the same, and we’d been shouting to each other, sometimes rude remarks, more often just joking remarks.

Eventually a German said, ‘Tomorrow you no shoot, we no shoot’.”

Somehow, the suggestion stuck. “What was interesting at Christmas is that both sides actually started to communicate in more friendly terms,” said Anthony Richards, IWM head of documents and sound. “It really began with the Germans singing Christmas carols and setting up Christmas trees on top of their parapets. And so, they came to very much empathise with one another.”  

A German artillery officer, only known as Mr Rickner, shares, “I remember the Christmas Day when the German and the French soldiers left their trenches, went to the barbed wire between them with champagne and cigarettes in their hands and had feelings of fraternisation and shouted that they wanted to finish the war. And that lasted only two days . . . and then strict orders came that no fraternisation was allowed, and we had to stay back in our trenches.” 

Officers were worried that such fraternisation would dampen the men’s enthusiasm for battle. 

This truce was not negotiated in a board room by leaders, nor banged out in the exchange of hostages or with concessions. It was the simple desire of young men to not fight and die on Christmas. People at home were incredulous about the reports. They didn’t believe that the enemy, who had been demonised and dehumanised, could exchange such pleasantries with their “boys”. 

Yet the event did happen—not everywhere and not for long—but up and down the front. On the eastern front, Russian soldiers who had been bombarding the Polish fortress of Przemyśl left three Christmas trees in no-man’s land with a polite note to the defenders: “We wish you, the heroes of Przemyśl, a Merry Christmas and hope that we can come to a peaceful agreement as soon as possible.”2

In our society today, Christmas has become known for the saccharine sweetness of jingles, rich food and an excessive display of materialism as parents fight in aisles over presents for their children. Even the “spirit of Christmas” has become a bit of an urban legend—a nebulous concept of generosity and sacrifice. 

Christians around the world celebrate Christmas to mark the occasion of the birth of Jesus. While scholars would agree that Jesus’ actual birthday is not December 25, the date has been part of Christian tradition for more than a millennium and while some get bogged down in that detail, many around the world celebrate the nativity. 

The Gospel of Luke has one retelling of the story. An angel comes to a group of shepherds in the Judean countryside and proclaims to them that a special baby has been born. 

“Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger” (Luke 2:10–12, NKJV3).

The shepherds would have had something in common with the men in the trenches of Europe. They were rough, uncultured men, probably from lower classes of society. They were accustomed to sleeping in rough terrain and to going without. 

Yet, they heard the message of this heavenly messenger, when kings and rulers would not. Luke tells us that with this angel, a host appeared singing this phrase: “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” (2:14)

“Peace and goodwill toward men.” This phrase brings some insight into the mission and purpose of this “Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths” who was to be the Saviour of the world. “Saviour” means “one who saves” or “rescues”. Jesus, the Baby who was born that day, is that Saviour. 

Jesus showed His followers a new way. He encouraged them to love their enemies, going against human nature. If someone does me wrong, my natural inclination is to repay them in kind. Yet Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus, the One who came to bring peace. The kind of peace Jesus wants to bring doesn’t last for a day. He wants to bring wholeness to you and me, to restore broken relationships, to heal cultural and national divides, to have former enemies put down their weapons and share gifts and an embrace. The choir of angels wished for peace on earth and in this broken world, we still long for peace.  

Our world is wracked by war and suffering and yet, when we remember Christmas, we are encouraged to heal hurts and be peace makers, even with our enemies.

The Bible records that the shepherds—captivated by this vision of peace—came “with haste” to the place and found the Baby they had been told about, before telling everyone they knew of the strange encounter. Perhaps like the Christmas truce, some didn’t believe them. But those rough men would remember that encounter for the rest of their lives. 

Let us pray for peace this Christmas. 

Article supplied with thanks to Sign of the Times Magazine.

About the Author: Jarrod Stackelroth is the editor of Signs of the Times South Pacific and Adventist Record.

Feature image: Supplied