derrickhurst.org

living for eternity today

Tag: church (Page 2 of 30)

Hope. Worth. Power.

May 12, 2025 / / 1 Comment

There’s a prayer in Ephesians that punches through the noise of our weary, distracted lives. Paul writes to believers—people already following Jesus—and he doesn’t pray for their circumstances to change. He doesn’t ask for them to be more successful, less anxious, or more comfortable. He prays they see. That the eyes of their hearts would be opened to what they already have in Jesus.

Let’s not miss that. This is a prayer for Christians. Not that they would get something new, but that they’d finally realize what’s been right in front of them the whole time.

Hope. Worth. Power.

Let’s start with hope—not the vague, wishy-washy kind the world offers. This is hope that is anchored in Jesus. Paul says we’ve been “called” to it. And when Jesus calls something into being, it happens. This hope isn’t fragile. It’s not on backorder. It’s a done deal—certain, real, and alive. You don’t have to wonder if God will come through. The cross and the empty tomb already proved He has. Your hope isn’t hanging by a thread; it’s standing in front of you with nail-scarred hands.

Then Paul prays we’d see the “riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints.” That’s not just future language—some pie-in-the-sky promise. That’s worth. Right now. God has already placed infinite value on you. Not because of what you’ve achieved or how holy you act, but because Jesus chose you, adopted you, and calls you family. You’re not a spiritual orphan trying to earn your place. You’re a loved, named, claimed child of God. That’s your worth. And no failure, label, or lie can undo that.

And finally—power. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead now lives in you. That’s not metaphor. That’s resurrection reality. This is not about mustering up your own strength. This is about tapping into the power source that conquered sin, death, and hell. Paul stacks up words for it: immeasurable greatness… according to the working of his great might… that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead. That’s a power no enemy can touch. And it’s yours. Today.

We live like we’re powerless. We walk around as if we’re barely scraping by spiritually. We forget the very Spirit who raised Jesus lives inside us. Paul’s prayer is that we wake up to that power—that we stop living like victims and start standing in victory.

So let me ask you:
Do you see the hope that’s already yours?
Do you know your worth in Jesus is already settled?
Are you walking in the resurrection power you already possess?

You don’t have to beg God for more. You don’t need to prove yourself. You just need eyes to see what’s already true.

Open your Bible. Read Ephesians 1:15–23 again. Then pray this:
Lord, open the eyes of my heart. Let me see the hope, the worth, and the power that are already mine in Jesus. Amen.

Don’t Drop the Towel: What to Do When You Want to Quit

May 8, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Part 6 of the “Towel-Bearers: Redefining Leadership” Series

You’ve prayed. You’ve poured out. You’ve kept showing up.
But if you’re honest—you’re tired.
Not just physically. Soul tired.

Ministry can hurt in ways you didn’t know possible.
People ghost you.
Plans fall flat.
Recognition for carrying the extra load never comes.
The critics? Oh, they never miss a beat.

And somewhere deep inside, you hear it:

“Just walk away. Drop the towel. You gave it your best shot.”

But hear me out:
Don’t do that!

Jesus Didn’t Quit—Even When Everyone Else Did

When things got hard, the disciples scattered.
The crowds vanished.
The miracles weren’t enough to keep people loyal.

But Jesus didn’t drop the towel.
He picked up the cross.

And He kept walking—for you.

You’re not carrying something He doesn’t understand.
He felt betrayal. He knows rejection. He walked the lonely road.

Hebrews 12:3 (ESV): “Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.”

He didn’t quit on you.
Don’t quit on what He’s put in you.

3 Ways to Hold the Towel When Everything in You Wants to Let Go

1. Name the Burnout. Don’t Fake the Strength.

You’re not superhuman. You’re not weak for needing rest.
You’re honest. That’s holy.

Jesus rested. Jesus wept. Jesus withdrew.

If He needed it, you definitely do.
So name it. Own it. And then bring it to Him.

2. Let Others Carry You for a While

Even Jesus let someone else carry His cross for a stretch. (See: Simon of Cyrene.)

So why are you trying to be the hero?

Ask for help. Tell someone you’re worn out.
You’re not less of a leader for leaning on others—you’re just finally leading real.

3. Reconnect to the Why

You didn’t start this to be famous.
You started because Jesus flipped your life upside down with grace.
You said yes because people matter. Because eternity matters.

When the “what” feels heavy, remember the “why.”

And remember Who you’re doing this for.

Grace Is for You Too.

Sometimes the hardest person to show grace to is the one in the mirror.
You preach it to others—now preach it to yourself:

You’re not failing. You’re not forgotten. You’re not done.

The towel might feel soaked with sweat, tears, and frustration—but it’s still in your hands. And Jesus is still washing feet with you.

Before You Quit, Remember This:

Quitting might quiet the pain—but it also silences your calling.
What you’re doing matters. Even if no one claps. Even if no one sees.

So no, don’t drop the towel.
Wipe your brow.
Fall into the arms of grace.
And keep going.

Because He’s not finished with you yet.

Next up in Part 7 of the Towel-Bearers series:
👉 “Towel-Bearers in the Wild: Stories of Real Leaders Doing It the Jesus Way” — a celebration of the unfiltered, unpolished, radically faithful.

When the World Goes Quiet: The Hidden Face of Trauma

May 7, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Trauma doesn’t always look like what we expect. It’s not always tears or trembling hands. It isn’t necessarily someone lying in bed, unable to move, or openly speaking about the nightmares that haunt them. More often, it’s hidden in plain sight—in the bright light of day, in the loud, busy moments when the world keeps spinning. Trauma wears a mask, and many people wear it so well you’d never know it was there at all.

In the daylight, trauma can look like a successful professional who hits every deadline. It can sound like laughter at a lunch meeting or appear in the form of perfectly crafted social media posts. Highly functioning individuals are often the ones carrying the heaviest burdens, because they’ve learned how to keep going no matter what. Not because they’ve “healed,” but because continuing to move feels safer than stopping. To stop would mean facing what waits in the silence.

And that’s when trauma speaks loudest—when the world shuts down.

In the quiet of night, when distractions fade and the demands of the day are gone, trauma comes out from the corners where it hides. For some, it shows up as insomnia or racing thoughts that make sleep impossible. For others, it’s a sudden wave of sadness, anxiety, or fear that seems to come from nowhere. The mind replays moments long buried, feelings long suppressed. There’s no applause for surviving in the dark. There’s no one to witness the fight. But it rages on.

We often assume that if someone is functioning—working, parenting, creating, joking—they must be okay. But trauma doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t need permission to exist. It doesn’t check your calendar before showing up. Trauma from years ago can feel as fresh as something that happened yesterday. And recent trauma can hide behind a smile so convincing even the person wearing it might forget it’s there—for a time.

This is why compassion matters. This is why slowing down and looking beyond the surface matters. Not everyone will talk about what they’ve been through. Not everyone has the language, the safety, or the support to name their pain. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

So the next time you’re tempted to assume someone is “fine” because they seem fine, take a pause. Understand that for many, survival looks like achievement. Coping looks like productivity. And healing? Healing is often messy, invisible, nonlinear, and deeply personal.

Let’s normalize checking in with our strong friends. Let’s hold space for those who appear to have it all together. And most importantly, let’s remember that trauma isn’t defined by how loud it screams in public—but by how silently it haunts when no one is watching.

In the stillness, when the world goes quiet, some people are still fighting battles. Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not real.

When Nobody Claps: Finding Joy in Obscure Faithfulness

May 6, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Part 5 of the “Towel-Bearers: Redefining Leadership” Series

There’s no spotlight.
No applause.
No thank-you note.
No social media post shouting you out.

You vacuumed the church hallway.
Held the crying baby in the nursery.
Prayed for someone who never knew.
Texted the hurting at 2 a.m.
Showed up again. And again. And again.

And not a soul noticed.

But heaven did.

The World Cheers the Loudest Voices. The Kingdom Honors the Faithful Ones.

You won’t trend for folding chairs.
You won’t get likes for discipling one kid at a time.
No one will interview you for spending 10 years loving a community that barely responds.

But this is what Kingdom greatness actually looks like.

Jesus didn’t praise the Pharisees for their platforms.
He praised a widow for her two coins.
He honored a woman who poured perfume on His feet.

No PR team. No followers. No fame.
Just faithfulness.

Why Obscurity Might Be Your Greatest Gift

1. Obscurity Starves the Ego

When no one’s watching, there’s no performance to maintain.
No masks. No hype. No pressure.

It’s just you and Jesus.
And that’s where real leadership is forged.

The spotlight can inflate your pride.
Obscurity? That’s where the roots grow deep.

2. God Sees What Nobody Else Does

Hebrews 6:10 (ESV): “For God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do.”

You’re not overlooked.
You’re not forgotten.
You’re not wasting your time.

The God who counts the hairs on your head counts every act of hidden faithfulness too.

3. Your Reward Is Coming—And It’s Better Than Applause

Let the world have their claps. You’re waiting for the well done.

Matthew 6:4 (ESV): “And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

One day, Jesus will look you in the eyes—not the crowd, not your peers—you—and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

No mic drop. No stage. Just resting in His glory.

So Keep Going, Towel-Bearer

If you’re tired of doing good and getting silence in return—don’t quit.
If you’re wondering if it’s worth it when no one seems to notice—keep showing up.

You’re not serving for a standing ovation.
You’re serving the One who knelt low and washed feet.

That’s where the joy is.
Not in being seen—but in being His.

Coming up in Part 6 of the Towel-Bearers series:
“Don’t Drop the Towel: What to Do When You Want to Quit” — because leadership is heavy, but grace is stronger.

Not Your Platform: The Kingdom Isn’t About You

May 1, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Part 4 of the “Towel-Bearers: Redefining Leadership” Series

Let’s say the quiet part out loud:
Ministry has a branding problem.
Not the logos. Not the livestreams. Not the fonts.
The ego that sometimes hides behind it all.

Somewhere along the way, some have stopped preaching Jesus and started promoting ourselves. They stopped building altars and started building platforms.
And if we’re not careful, we’ll confuse applause with anointing—and miss the whole point of the Kingdom.

This Isn’t About You

We say it’s for Jesus. We sing it loud. We hashtag it.
But if we peel back the layers… too many of us are more concerned with followers on Instagram than with following the Savior.

And that’s not leadership. That’s show business in a clerical collar.

Jesus didn’t come to be admired—He came to die.
And He didn’t call us to be influencers. He called us to be cross-bearers.

3 Platform Pitfalls That Kill Kingdom Work

1. Performance Over Presence

When the platform becomes the goal, performance becomes the method.
You start curating moments for likes, not for lives changed. You start preaching for a reaction, not transformation.

Here’s the truth: performance might impress people—but it doesn’t move heaven.

Presence does.
And you can’t manufacture that. You get it by dying to self and staying rooted in Jesus.

2. Applause Becomes the Addiction

If the only time you feel valuable is when people are clapping, you’re already in trouble.

Applause is a drug. And it will never be enough.
Ask the preachers who burned out trying to chase the next standing ovation. Ask the worship leaders who lost their joy when the setlist didn’t get a standing ovation.

Kingdom leadership isn’t about being celebrated. It’s about being faithful, even when no one notices.

3. Jesus Gets Drowned Out By Our Name

We slap His name on events, but our faces are front and center.
We say “To God be the glory,” but let’s be honest—we’re tracking analytics like stockbrokers.

Let this sink in: If people remember your name but forget His, you failed.

John the Baptist had it right: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30, ESV)

That’s not poetic. That’s the point. It’s time to show Jesus to others not require them to hail us as king or pastor or president or whatever our title might be.

The Platform Is a Tool—Not a Throne

God may give you influence. That’s fine. Use it well.
But the moment you start climbing the stage like it’s your throne, the towel’s slipping out of your hands.

Jesus washed feet. And then He went to a cross.
The only crown He wore down here had thorns on it.

If you’re going to follow Him, leave the spotlight behind. You can’t carry a cross and your brand at the same time.

Let’s Get Back to the Mission

The Kingdom is not about building your name. It’s about surrendering it.

Drop the need to be known.
Let go of the platform you’re building.
Pick up the towel. Take the lower seat.
And let Jesus be the only name that echoes when the lights go out.

Up next in the Towel-Bearers series:
“When Nobody Claps: Finding Joy in Obscure Faithfulness” — because sometimes, the holiest work happens when no one’s watching.

The Weight of the Towel: When Serving Hurts

April 29, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Part 3 of the “Towel-Bearers: Redefining Leadership” Series

You said yes to serve.
You said yes to love.
You said yes to Jesus – (after he said yes to you).

But somewhere along the way, that towel you picked up started to feel like a weight chained to your soul.

You’re tired. Not just in your body—but in your spirit.
You still show up. Still pour out. Still smile when you’re asked, “How’s ministry going?” But underneath it all, you’re running on fumes.

Welcome to the weight of the towel.

Serving Hurts Sometimes. And That’s Not a Sign You’re Doing It Wrong.

Myth: “If I were really called to this, it wouldn’t feel this hard.”

Jesus was called. Perfectly. And still—He sweat blood in the garden.

He served, knowing the cross was waiting. He washed Judas’ feet, knowing the betrayal was coming.
He kept showing up—not because it didn’t hurt—but because love is stronger than pain.

So yeah, it’s going to hurt sometimes.
Not because you’re broken.
But because you’re becoming like Jesus.

3 Realities of Leading With a Tired Soul

1. You Will Run Out—That’s Why You Need to Be Filled

You’re not the source. Never were. You were never meant to carry the weight of every need, every crisis, every expectation.

Even Jesus withdrew to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16).
If the Son of God had to unplug to be filled—what makes you think you can run without stopping?

This is your reminder: Rest is not weakness. It’s worship.
You’re not abandoning the mission when you sabbath—you’re sustaining it.

2. Just Because It Hurts Doesn’t Mean It’s Not Holy

Pain doesn’t always mean you’re out of place. Sometimes, it’s proof you’re walking the right path.

Paul didn’t plant churches from a place of comfort—he planted them with scars.
Real servant leaders don’t avoid pain—they endure it for the sake of others.

But here’s the catch: Suffering in silence isn’t sainthood—it’s pride. Don’t wear burnout like a badge. Talk to someone. Let people in. You’re not less spiritual for needing help—you’re more human.

3. You’re Not Saving Anyone—Jesus Is

You’re not the Messiah. You’re not the answer. You’re a messenger.

When the weight gets too heavy, remember: you were never meant to carry the cross. You’re just called to carry the towel.

Let Jesus carry you.

To the Worn-Out Leader…

You don’t have to be strong every day.
You don’t have to fix everything.
You don’t have to carry this alone.

God sees you.
Not the polished version. Not the public one. The real you.

He sees the tears you’ve cried in your car.
The text messages you never got a response to.
The late nights. The misunderstood moments. The quiet serving no one ever applauded.

And He says, “Well done.”

Want more?
Stay with us for Part 4 of Towel-Bearers: Redefining Leadership:
“Not Your Platform: The Kingdom Isn’t About You” — a gut-check on ego, branding, and who the spotlight really belongs to.

How to Spot a Counterfeit Leader (And Why It Matters More Than You Think)

April 25, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Part 2 of the “Towel-Bearers: Redefining Leadership” Series

Not everyone with a Bible and a microphone should be leading people.
Yeah, there are counterfeit leaders in the Church. And they’re not always easy to spot. They sound holy. They know the lingo. They wear the “right” clothes. They inspire crowds, cast vision, and quote Scripture on demand. But behind the scenes, it’s not about Jesus—it’s about their own control, ego, and power.

Jesus warned us: “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”(Matthew 7:15, ESV)

We should’ve been listening.

4 Signs of a Counterfeit Leader

1. People Are Used, Not Shepherded

Counterfeit leaders don’t build people up—they use them to build their platform. If you’re only celebrated when you’re useful, and ghosted when you’re not, you’re not being pastored. You’re being leveraged.

Servant-hearted leaders walk with you—especially when you can’t offer anything in return.

2. Disagreement Is Punished, Not Processed

Try questioning their decision. Watch what happens.

If the response is silence, guilt-tripping, or spiritual intimidation (“Touch not the Lord’s anointed!”), that’s not leadership. That’s dictatorship in a title or position.

Jesus welcomed correction, modeled vulnerability, and still stooped to wash His disciples’ feet.

3. Fear Replaces Freedom

If you constantly feel anxious around your leader—like any wrong move will cost you your place—you’re not under godly authority. You’re under human control.

Jesus sets people free. Leadership that leads with fear doesn’t come from Him.

4. Their Private Life Doesn’t Match Their Platform

This is the hardest one. You don’t always see it right away. But true leadership shows up in the home, in the staff culture, in the way they treat the least powerful around them.

If their public presence is polished but the people closest to them are walking on eggshells—pay attention.

There’s Grace for This

Maybe this stings because you’ve followed a counterfeit leader.
Maybe it stings more because you’ve been (or are) one.

There’s grace. There’s always grace. But grace doesn’t mean silence. And it doesn’t mean ignoring the pain of those who’ve been hurt in the name of “leadership.”

You’re not crazy. You’re not bitter. You’re just waking up.

The Call: Watch for Fruit, Not Flash

We need leaders who bleed love, not demand loyalty.
Who show up in silence, not just in the spotlight.
Who carry towels, not just sit on their personal thrones.

Don’t settle for stage lights. Look for the ones who stay when the lights go out.

Want more?
Stay tuned for Part 3 of our Towel-Bearers series:
“The Weight of the Towel: When Serving Hurts” — how to lead with a servant’s heart when your soul is tired.

Real Leaders Bleed for Their People: Not Themselves

April 23, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Let’s stop pretending. Not all leaders are actually leading. Some are just collecting titles, hoarding influence, and stepping on people to build their brand.

That’s not leadership. That’s ego dressed in a suit and given a fancy title.

True leadership is bleeding for people, not basking in applause. It’s wiping the tears of the hurting, not curating a platform for personal glory. It’s making late-night phone calls, sitting in hospital rooms, helping someone move, delivering meals in silence, showing up again when nobody else does. Leaders aren’t called to be adored—they’re called to serve.

Let’s call it what it is: the world is packed with self-aggrandizing leaders. They love the microphone, the likes, the platform, the “vision casting,” and the endless meetings where they get to hear themselves talk. They talk at people, not with them. They think being “up front” is proof of anointing. They say phrases like, “If I don’t lead, who will?” as if God’s church would fall apart without them.

Newsflash friend: if your “leadership” ends when the camera turns off or the praise team stops playing your favorite walk-up song, you’re not leading—you’re performing.

The servant-hearted leader lives differently.

They lead from the back of the line, not the front of the stage. They’re not chasing attention—they’re chasing people who are slipping through the cracks. Their heart beats for the broken, the ignored, the exhausted. They don’t keep score. They don’t manipulate with spiritual language. They don’t delegate compassion. They do the work themselves.

When someone’s world falls apart, servant leaders are the ones who cancel their plans to be there. When someone’s marriage is struggling, they listen without judgment. When a church member can’t pay a bill, they quietly cover it without a word. No social media posts. No public applause. Just a heart that says, “I’m here because you matter.”

Jesus didn’t build a brand—He washed feet.

He didn’t hold strategy meetings to decide whether the disciples were “aligned with the mission statement.” He knelt on the floor, grabbed a towel, and scrubbed the dirt off their feet like a lowly house slave. And then He said, “I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you” (John 13:15, ESV).

He meant it. Leadership in the kingdom is not power—it’s posture. A towel, not a throne. A cross, not a crown.

So here’s the gut check: Are you the kind of leader who lays down your life—or just one who talks about sacrifice while protecting your own comfort? When your people are in need, are you reaching down, or are you too busy reaching for a microphone?

Servant-hearted leadership is not glamorous. It’s not always visible. But it’s real. It looks like someone who shows up with groceries when the fridge is empty. Someone who stays after the meeting to listen to the one who didn’t speak up. Someone who prays with others, not just over them.

It’s raw. It’s inconvenient. It’s beautiful.

We need more of it.

Let’s stop chasing titles and start chasing towels. Let’s be the leaders who go out of our way—who go the extra mile without anyone watching. Let’s bleed love. Let’s live low. Let’s lead like Jesus.

That’s the kind of leadership the church needs. It’s the kind of leader the world needs.

Rising From the Ashes

April 17, 2025 / / 2 Comments

This Holy Week has most definitely been unlike any I’ve ever experienced.

As we approached the most sacred days of our faith—the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus—we were met with a trial of our own. A fire broke out in our church building. It was significant. Rooms we’ve prayed in, served in, and celebrated in were damaged. Walls were blackened. Equipment has been lost. We’re going to be a bit disjointed for a while.

But make no mistake: this fire will not have the final word.

Because we serve a God who specializes in resurrection.

The truth of Easter isn’t just a story we tell. It’s a power we live by. When Jesus stepped out of the grave, He proved that death doesn’t win. Despair doesn’t win. Devastation doesn’t win. The worst thing is never the last thing.

So yes, our building took a hit. But the church is not a building. The Church is a people. A people of resurrection. A people of hope. A people who believe in the God who makes beauty from ashes.

Isaiah 61:3 promises that God will give “a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” That’s our prayer and our posture in this season. We are not alone. We are not defeated. We are not without purpose.

This Easter, as we remember the stone rolled away and the Savior risen, we’re clinging to that same truth for ourselves: we too will rise.

It may take time to rebuild. It may be messy. But grace is already showing up in big ways—from the firefighters who contained the flames quickly, to the neighbors and church family rallying in prayer and clean up efforts, to the Spirit of God reminding us: this is not the end of the story.

One thing we hold very dear is that we meet people in the messiness of life. Well, this community has turned the tables and met us right in our own messiness and we can’t thank you enough! Friends, we’re in this together and we’re so glad we have you walking with us!

Jesus rose from the grave.
We will rise from these ashes.

We are blessed, even in brokenness. And we’re moving forward together—renewed, refined, and ready for what God will do next.

He is risen.
And so shall we.

Is America Losing Its Soul?

April 15, 2025 / / 0 Comments

I tend to say out loud what many people are smart enough to only think quietly:
Something is deeply wrong in this country.

Our country feels angry, anxious, divided, and hollow.
We’ve got more outrage than ever, more opinions than ever, and yet—less peace, less unity, and less truth.

We are witnessing the slow erosion of something deeper than policies and headlines. And we’ve been watching from the sidelines for decades, so don’t think this is about one person or one party. It’s a process that’s been unfolding for the past 60 years or more.
We are watching a nation lose its soul.

And here’s the scary part:
Most people are too distracted, too entertained, or too tribal to even notice.

Politics Can’t Save Us

Let’s be honest:
Both sides are playing the same game and we’re falling for it – hook, line, and sinker.
Leaders scream, “They’re the problem!” while feeding division to their base like it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Mainstream culture doesn’t care about unity.
It cares about clicks, controversy, and control.

Our feeds are curated for outrage.
Our kids are being discipled by TikTok trends.
And our churches are often too quiet—afraid of offending the very culture Jesus came to challenge.

No political party has a monopoly on righteousness.
No movement owns the truth.
Jesus is not running for office.

“If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.”
— Mark 3:24 (ESV)

Sound familiar?

The Soul of a Nation Isn’t in the Laws. It’s in the People.

You can’t legislate morality into a broken heart.
You can’t vote your way out of spiritual decay.

The real crisis isn’t in Washington. It’s in the human heart.

We’ve traded humility for pride.
Conviction for comfort.
Truth for opinion.
God for government.

And now we wonder why our foundations are cracking. We think throwing a graphic on social media fixes the problem. Newsflash – it generally only feeds the algorithm of hate.

“They did what was right in their own eyes.”
— Judges 21:25 (ESV)

History repeats when truth is ignored.

So, What Do We Do?

If you’re reading this and feeling the weight of all this—you’re not alone.
But you’re also not powerless.

You don’t have to be a politician to make a difference.
You just need to care more about people’s hearts than winning arguments.

Here are 5 practical, soul-restoring things you can do right now:

1. Turn Down the Noise

You weren’t built to carry the weight of 24/7 news cycles and algorithm-fueled rage. If you don’t take the time to research the whole story before forming an opinion, then you probably should just zip it! Before forming your opinion and changing your profile pic in support of your side of the story, you probably should make sure you know the other side as well.

Unfollow the accounts that fuel anxiety.
Take a Sabbath from headlines.
Spend more time in Scripture than on social media, unless you like being a hate monger.

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.”
— Colossians 3:2 (ESV)

2. Build Bridges, Not Echo Chambers

Sit down with someone who doesn’t vote like you, worship like you, or live like you. Listen without correcting. It’s time we did a lot more bridge building and a lot less ditch digging!

Real unity isn’t uniformity—it’s understanding.

Jesus sat with Pharisees and prostitutes. Maybe we can sit with someone across the aisle.

3. Raise the Next Generation with Backbone

Teach your kids truth.
Not watered-down, fear-of-offending, culture-approved truth—but biblical truth, soaked in grace and courage.

They are growing up in a world that is at war for their souls. Give them armor that lasts not just opinions from your favorite pundits!

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
— Proverbs 22:6 (ESV)

4. Be the Church Again

Not a political rally.
Not a spiritual country club.
Not a content machine.

Be a place of truth, repentance, restoration, and mission.
The local church is still God’s Plan A for healing this world. But only if we stop playing it safe. The Church needs to step onto the battle field and stop believing the politicians are going to do it for us.

5. Pray Like It Matters—Because It Does

This isn’t just a cultural moment. It’s a spiritual battle.
Policies change. Presidents come and go. But prayer moves the hand of God.

We don’t need more talking heads.
We need knees on the ground and eyes lifted up.

Is America losing its soul?

Maybe. But the Church doesn’t have to.
Your home doesn’t have to.
You don’t have to.

The world is loud. And division is real.
But revival starts in small places—with bold people who refuse to bow to culture.

If you’re ready to do more than complain, if you’re ready to live with conviction, if you want to help restore what’s broken—the time is now.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2025 derrickhurst.org

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑