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Tag: Jesus (Page 1 of 62)

We’ve Made Church Too Safe

June 12, 2025 / / 0 Comments

I think it’s safe to say. The modern American church is addicted to safety.

We’ve built sanctuaries that feel more like coffee shops than spiritual battlegrounds. We’ve traded sermons that pierce the soul for talks that soothe the ego. We’ve made small groups “low commitment,” worship “non-offensive,” and mission trips “Instagrammable.” Somewhere along the way, we stopped following Jesus—and started selling a sanitized version of Him that fits nicely into a 70-minute service with great parking.

But here’s the problem: Jesus was never safe.

He touched lepers. He flipped tables. He confronted religious leaders to their faces. He loved the wrong people, said the wrong things, and died the most scandalous death imaginable. And then He had the nerve to look us in the eyes and say:

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23, ESV)

The cross is not a metaphor for a mild inconvenience. It’s a symbol of execution. So why are we so desperate to make Christianity comfortable?

Safety Has Become Our Idol

We don’t say it out loud, but it’s everywhere: safety first. Don’t offend. Don’t challenge. Don’t talk about sin, sacrifice, repentance, or surrender. Keep it light. Keep it nice. Keep it moving.

But here’s the truth: a gospel that never confronts won’t ever transform.

We’re raising generations of Christians who think following Jesus means showing up to church when it’s convenient, tossing $20 in the plate, and maybe posting a Bible verse on Instagram. Meanwhile, people are starving for something real, something dangerous, something that calls them out of mediocrity and into mission.

We have all the right branding. We have polished worship sets and clever sermon series. But Jesus didn’t die to make us marketable. He died to make us holy.

Discipleship Is Dangerous

The early church was anything but safe. Read Acts. Those Christians were bold, reckless, filled with the Holy Spirit, and completely unconcerned with cultural approval. They faced prison, persecution, and death—and they rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer for Jesus.

Now we can’t even handle a negative comment on social media. Now we get all bent when someone challenges us. Now if someone disagrees with us they get canceled and forgotten.

We’re not called to blend in. We’re called to stand out. We’re not called to be liked. We’re called to be faithful. And sometimes, being faithful means taking real risks—sacrificing time, money, comfort, and popularity to love radically, serve sacrificially, and speak boldly.

Jesus didn’t play it safe. So why do we?

It’s Time to Be Dangerous Again

We need churches that stop measuring success by attendance and start measuring it by obedience. We need pastors who preach truth even when it stings. We need communities where it’s okay to get uncomfortable—where confession, accountability, and repentance are normal. We need Christians who are more concerned with holiness than hashtags.

“So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:16, ESV)

Jesus didn’t come to build lukewarm institutions. He came to light a fire. And maybe it’s time we let Him burn down our addiction to comfort so He can rebuild us into something powerful.

Not safe. Not soft.

But holy dangerous.

You Don’t Have to Do It All

June 10, 2025 / / 1 Comment

We live in a world that subtly, and not so subtly, says the same thing over and over:
You should be doing more.

Work more. Be more involved. Cook from scratch. Get ahead. Stay informed. Stay fit. Stay positive. Stay available.

And if you’re tired? That’s just proof you need better habits. Or a better planner. Or a better version of you.

But maybe that voice is wrong.

Because here’s the truth most of us need to hear on repeat: You don’t have to do it all.

You are not required to carry every need, fix every problem, attend every event, or please every person. Your worth is not measured by your output. And your value isn’t proven by your exhaustion.

The badge of burnout is not a badge of honor. It’s a warning sign. And maybe it’s time to pay attention.

So how do we live in a world of MORE without losing ourselves?

1. Drop the invisible expectations.

Whose standards are you living by? Take five minutes and list the expectations that weigh you down. Then cross out anything that’s not life-giving, sustainable, or aligned with your actual purpose or calling.

2. Choose your “yes” on purpose.

You can’t say yes to everything, so say yes to what matters most. Protect time for people and priorities that bring peace, not pressure.

3. Practice saying “not right now.”

You don’t have to say no forever but you can say not this season. Saying no to one thing is often the only way to say yes to what really counts. Every yes to one thing is a no to something else. Choose your yes carefully.

4. Rest without guilt.

Rest is not laziness. It’s resistance to the idea that your value is tied to your productivity. Take a nap. Read for fun. Watch the sunset. And don’t apologize for needing to take a break.

5. Accept help before you break.

You were never meant to carry everything alone. Ask for support. Say, “I can’t do this right now.” Let someone step in. That’s not weakness. It’s wisdom.

Doing less doesn’t mean you care less.
It just means you’re human, and you’re finally living like it.

So take a breath. Let something drop. Give yourself permission to be a person, not a machine.

You don’t have to do it all.

You just have to do the next right thing, with heart.

Grace over grind, every single time.

Praying Past Pathetic

June 9, 2025 / / 1 Comment

Let’s be honest: most of our prayers are weak. They’re soft. Safe. Domestic.

“Help me have a good day.”
“Please heal Aunt Carol’s bunion.”
“Let the traffic be light.”

We toss these up like God is our cosmic butler, here to make life smooth, not holy. And when Paul drops to his knees in Ephesians 3:14-21, he blows that kind of praying to pieces.

“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father… that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being…” (Ephesians 3:14,16 ESV)

Did you catch that? Paul isn’t praying for a good day filled with sunshine. He’s begging God to dig into the deepest parts of your soul and rebuild you from the inside out. That’s not a Hallmark holiday wish. That’s spiritual surgery.

From Pathetic to Powerful

When Paul prays, he’s not tossing up spiritual fluff. He’s down on his knees, pleading for real transformation. Not circumstantial tweaks, but a soul overhaul. He’s praying for a strength that doesn’t come from inside, but from the riches of God’s glory.

That’s not pathetic. That’s powerful.

And it raises a question: Why are we so content to pray small when God offers so much more?

Paul’s prayer gets right to the core:

  • That you would be strengthened with power.
  • That Christ may dwell in your hearts.
  • That you’d be rooted and grounded in love.
  • That you’d comprehend the height, depth, length, and breadth of God’s love.
  • That you’d be filled with all the fullness of God.

Let’s not miss it. Paul is praying for interior transformation that leads to explosive faith and love. He’s asking that believers wouldn’t just know about Jesus, but that Jesus would dwell, that means make his home, in their hearts. Not as a weekend guest, but as the owner of the house.

More Than Surface Fixes

Most of us pray like we’re asking for God to wash the windows. Paul prays like God is tearing out walls and rebuilding the foundation.

We say: “Help me not be stressed.”
Paul prays: “Lord, fill them with Your Spirit so they stand strong no matter what hits them.”

We pray: “Fix this annoying person in my life.”
Paul prays: “Root them in love so deep that even enemies feel like neighbors.”

This is not about better behavior. This is about spiritual transformation.

What Are You Settling For?

Paul closes the prayer with one of the most powerful doxologies in the Bible:

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…” (Ephesians 3:20 ESV)

You know what that means? Even your wildest prayer is still undershooting what God is capable of. We pray weak because we think weak. We ask small because we dream small. And God says, “I can do more. Infinitely more.”

It’s not about getting everything you want. It’s about becoming everything He created you to be.

So Here’s the Challenge

Stop praying like God’s only job is to keep you comfortable. Stop praying like the deepest work God can do is make sure your Amazon package arrives on time.

Start praying like Paul:

  • On your knees.
  • Asking for power.
  • Expecting inner transformation.
  • Begging to know a love that surpasses knowledge.
  • Craving the fullness of God, not the convenience of life.

Because the Spirit of God didn’t come to make you nice. He came to make you new.

So next time you pray, skip the traffic updates. Get real. Get honest. Get deep. And pray with power. Then the traffic updates, grandma’s broken toe and your disobedient kiddo will take up different head space.

The Shadow Side of Leadership

June 4, 2025 / / 1 Comment

Leadership has a spotlight. People see you on the platform, hear your words, watch your decisions, and feel your energy. They see the meetings, the prayers, the big ideas, the vision cast into motion. But behind that spotlight, there’s a shadow few people talk about. It’s the part of leadership that doesn’t make it into the highlight reels or Instagram stories. It’s quiet. It’s invisible. And for many of us, it’s achingly personal.

For me, the shadow shows up when I walk through the door at home.

After pouring myself out all day listening, guiding, teaching, and carrying the emotional and spiritual burdens of others, I often come home on the verge of empty. Not because I don’t love my family deeply, but because I’ve already spent everything I had to give. My family often doesn’t get the version of me who stood strong at the funeral or prayed boldly in the hospital. They get the version who crashes on the couch, struggling to engage in conversation, completely zoned out to the world around me, and often too tired to really be present.

It’s a strange contrast: I can rally the energy to lead a meeting of twenty or preach to a crowd of hundreds, but when I’m in the comfort of my home with my family I’m sometimes disconnected and have a hard time holding down a real conversation. I know the right thing to do. I want to be fully present. But sometimes the cost of being “on” all day means I end up emotionally “off” at home.

There’s guilt there. And a bit of shame too. And then there’s the quiet wondering: Is this what they signed up for?

This is the shadow side of leadership where passion meets limitation, where strength in public masks weariness in private. Most people don’t see the pastor who silently prays on the drive home just to have enough energy left to be fully engaged when he gets home.

But here’s what I’m learning: acknowledging the shadow doesn’t make me a failure. It makes me human.

And more than that, it makes space for grace. Not just from others, but from God. His power is made perfect in weakness, not in performance. My family doesn’t need the best version of me; they need the real one. The one who admits when he’s tired. The one who asks for help something I don’t do very well at all. The one who chooses to show up even when it’s hard.

Leadership in the spotlight may inspire people. But how we live in the shadows, that’s where real integrity is forged.

So to all the tired leaders, the weary parents, the ones who give their best in public but feel spent in private: You are not alone. Your shadow doesn’t disqualify you. It just means you’re carrying more than most people can see.

And maybe today, that’s the place where God wants to meet you. Not in your strength, but in your surrender.

Bringing Meaning to Monday

June 3, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Out There – Part Three

Let’s talk about Monday.

Not the highlight reel kind of Monday.
Not the coffee-cup quote, “new week, new goals” kind.
No, the real kind.

The one where your alarm drags you out of bed.
The one where your inbox is overflowing before you even brush your teeth.
The one where you feel more like a cog in the machine than a person with purpose.

Yeah. That Monday.

Most of us don’t associate mission with that kind of day.
We assume “real ministry” happens somewhere else, somewhere like on Sunday mornings or during church trips or when we finally get out of this 9–5 grind and can do something that really matters.

But what if Monday matters more than we think?

What if God’s not waiting for you to escape your routine so He can use you? What if He’s already using you right where you are?

Jesus didn’t say, “Go into all the world… once you’ve landed your dream job.”
He said:

“As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” (John 20:21)

That includes boardrooms, break rooms, school pickup lines, job sites, spreadsheets, classrooms, and yeah even chaotic Zoom meetings where your mic won’t unmute.

If you’re “out there,” you’re already in mission territory.

You’re not just a nurse. You’re a healer who brings compassion where it’s in short supply.

You’re not just a teacher. You’re forming lives with grace and patience in a culture desperate for both.

You’re not just working retail. You’re offering dignity and kindness in a world that often ignores both.

You’re not just a parent holding it together. You’re raising humans who are watching what it looks like to live with purpose.

Ordinary places are holy ground when you show up with Jesus.

That means when you offer to pray for a co-worker, that’s mission.

When you speak peace into gossip and chaos, that’s mission.

When you listen instead of scrolling, help instead of ignoring, show grace instead of snapping, that’s mission.

Even when nobody notices. Especially when nobody notices. That’s mission.

This isn’t about trying harder. It’s about seeing clearer.

God doesn’t need you to change jobs to be useful. He needs you to recognize that where you already are… matters.

Because He’s already at work there. And He’s inviting you to join Him in that work.

So next Monday, don’t just survive. Step into your office, your school, your home like it’s a mission field. Because it is.

And you’ve been sent there for a purpose.

Next Up: Part Four – “You’re Probably Already Doing It.”

We’ll talk about how some of the most powerful acts of faith look nothing like what you expected, and why that’s actually great news.

It Starts at Your Front Door

May 27, 2025 / / 1 Comment

Out There – Part Two

Let’s be honest, when we hear someone say, “You’re called to make a difference,” we often think of big, flashy things: feeding the hungry, starting nonprofits, flying overseas, preaching in packed stadiums.

But you know where it really starts?

Right outside your front door.

Literally.

The people who live 30 feet from your kitchen. The ones you wave at when you’re hauling the trash cans to the curb. The ones whose names you sort of know, but mostly refer to by vague identifiers like “the guy with the loud truck” or “the lady with the tiny dog.”

We walk past people every day who are lonely, hurting, overwhelmed, and we don’t even know it. Not because we don’t care. But because we’re busy, distracted, or honestly just unsure where to start.

Here’s where Jesus messes with our excuses.

When asked what the most important commandment was, He said:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart… and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27)

Seems straightforward. Until someone asks the same question we’re all still asking: “But who counts as my neighbor?”

Jesus didn’t give a clear street address. Instead, He told a story, one where the “neighbor” was the person right in front of you. The one most people overlook. The one you might normally avoid.

Which means: Your neighbor is whoever’s near.

Not just the people you like. Not just the ones who look like you, think like you, vote like you, or believe like you. Whoever’s close is who God’s called you to love.

And if we’re being really honest… loving strangers feels awkward. Loving neighbors can feel even harder. There’s history. There’s tension. There’s fences, both literal and emotional.

But what if mission isn’t always about crossing oceans? What if it’s about crossing the street?

What if your greatest act of obedience this week is a conversation in your driveway?

That doesn’t sound like much. But it matters. A lot.

Because presence is powerful.
Because consistent kindness breaks down walls.
Because behind every closed garage door is a human being who wonders if anyone actually sees them.

So here’s your challenge this week:

  • Learn one name you don’t know.
  • Linger just one minute longer in the driveway, on the sidewalk, or at the mailbox.
  • Ask one real question and actually care about the answer.

This is how neighborhoods become communities. This is how strangers become friends. And yes — this is how Jesus works through ordinary people to do extraordinary things.

No Bible degree required. No perfect personality needed. Just availability and a little intentionality.

You don’t have to fix your neighbors. Just love them.

You don’t have to force conversations about faith. Just live it, and when the time is right — share it.

You don’t have to be weird. Just be real.

Next up: Part Three – “Bringing Meaning to Monday.”

Because if mission isn’t just for missionaries… maybe Monday morning matters more than you think.

What If You Were Meant for More?

May 20, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Out There – Part One

There’s a lie we’ve all been sold, and it’s a sneaky one:
Life is about surviving the week, paying the bills, and maybe squeezing in some happiness when you can.

We wake up, grind it out, scroll a bit, sleep a bit, then it’s like rinse and repeat. Maybe post a photo to prove to everyone (including ourselves) that we’re doing okay. But somewhere in the noise, there’s a quiet, persistent question that keeps bubbling up:

Is this it?

Even if your life looks full on the outside with everything you could want job, family, goals, money, faith – there can still be this weird emptiness. A sense that you were meant for something more. And no, you’re not crazy or ungrateful. That ache for “more” isn’t selfish or wrong. It’s a sign of life. A signal. A whisper from God that you were made for something bigger than just getting by.

But here’s where it gets real.

Most people hear that and think bigger means more platform, more attention, more followers. Nope. That’s the world’s version of “more.” Jesus flips that upside down. His version of more is deeply personal, incredibly intentional, and often quieter than we expect.

“As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” – Jesus (John 20:21)

That line isn’t church talk. It’s a mission. It’s Jesus saying:
“The same way I was sent to bring healing, hope, and truth? Yeah, now it’s your turn.”

And he didn’t say that to perfect people. He said it to regular folks. People with doubts. People who had failed. People who weren’t totally sure they were even qualified to be part of God’s story.

Which means you and I are exactly the kind of people he’s talking to!

So what does it actually mean to be “sent”?

It doesn’t mean you need to pack up and move to another country (though for a few people, it might). It means you wake up tomorrow with your eyes open. You start seeing your everyday life, everything from your block, to your workplace, to your gym, and even your school – as a place where God might actually want to work through you.

It’s asking questions like:

  • Who around me needs someone to listen?
  • What would it look like to bring peace instead of chaos today?
  • How can I show up for people with no strings attached?

This is what we’re made for! Not a life of safe routines and filtered happiness, but one that risks love, risks presence, and risks purpose.

That doesn’t mean you have to be loud, impressive, or preachy. In fact, the best kind of sent people are the ones who are simply present. Who love without needing credit. Who take the time. Who choose kindness even when it’s not convenient.

Jesus didn’t send out superstars. He sent out available people. People willing to step into the mess, not run from it. People willing to see themselves not just as believers, but as difference-makers.

So yeah, maybe you’re meant for more. Not in the “build your brand” kind of way. But in the “change the temperature of the room” kind of way.

And it all starts with a decision:
To stop seeing your life as small… and start seeing it as sent.

Want to know where to start?

Come back next week for Part Two: “It Starts at Your Front Door.”
Spoiler alert: You don’t need to preach a sermon. You just need to say hello.
We’ll explore what it looks like to live with purpose, one sidewalk at a time.

Dead or Alive

May 19, 2025 / / 1 Comment

Let’s get one thing straight: Life doesn’t just work better with Jesus, without Him, there is no life at all. This week in our “Rooted and Ready” series, we hit one of the most honest, humbling, and hope-filled passages in the Bible. Ephesians 2 doesn’t sugarcoat anything. Paul starts with a punch:

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins…” (Ephesians 2:1)

Dead. Not hurting. Not confused. Not limping. Spiritually DEAD.

That’s the state we were all in, walking corpses, following the world’s chaos, giving in to the devil’s whispers, driven by our inner selfish cravings. We weren’t “mostly good” with some bad behavior. We were rotten. Like that forgotten takeout container in the back of your fridge, sealed up and festering, and when you finally crack it open… the stench hits you. That’s not something you clean up. That’s something you throw out.

Paul says that was us. Pretty on the outside, moldy and dead on the inside. “Children of wrath,” he says. Not misguided. Not slightly off track. Under judgment. That’s a bold, painful truth, but we need to hear it. Because only when we understand how far gone we were can we fully grasp what God has done.

Then come the best two words in the whole Bible:

“But God…”
“…being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us… made us alive together with Christ…” (vv. 4–5)

But God. Not but you prayed harder. Not but you finally cleaned up your act. No. You were dead. But God acted. But God moved. But God resurrected.

Because of His mercy. Because of His love. Because of His grace.

You see, life works best with Jesus because life without Him isn’t life at all, it’s death. But Jesus didn’t wait for you to get your life together. He came to you when you were a spiritual corpse, and by grace, He made you alive.

This is more than inspiration. It’s resurrection.

And now?
You’ve been raised. You’ve been seated with Christ in the heavenly places. You’ve been saved by grace through faith, not by your doing, but by His gift.

You are now God’s workmanship. Not a project to be ashamed of, but a masterpiece with purpose, created in Christ Jesus for good works He’s already prepared for you to walk in.

So here’s the invitation today: Stop trying to look alive on your own. Stop pretending that sin is just a bad habit. Own the truth. You were dead. But God rich in mercy made you alive.

So now? Live like it. Walk in the works He’s prepared. Stay rooted in His Word. Be ready for what’s next.

Because life doesn’t just work better with Jesus—it only works with Him.

Stop Mistaking Empathy for Compassion

May 15, 2025 / / 0 Comments

They’re Not the Same, and It’s Hurting Us

Let’s cut through the fluff: empathy is not compassion. And pretending they’re the same is making us soft in all the wrong places, blind to what’s broken, and oddly proud of standing still while people suffer.

Empathy says, “I feel your pain.”
Compassion says, “I see your pain, and I’m going to help you do something about it.”

See the difference? One sits in the mud with you and calls it solidarity. The other reaches in, lifts you up, washes you off, and walks with you toward healing. That’s compassion — and it’s what we need more of.

Let’s be honest: empathy sounds nice. It’s trendy. It sells. It wins likes on social media. “I see you.” “I hear you.” “I’m with you.” But here’s the hard truth: empathy, when left alone, is passive. It doesn’t fix anything. It just wallows in shared misery. And worse — it can become a mask for cowardice. We use it to avoid confrontation, delay hard conversations, and excuse inaction.

We say, “I don’t want to judge,” when what we mean is, “I don’t want to deal with the mess.” We say, “I’m just empathizing,” when we’re actually enabling. Empathy left unchecked coddles dysfunction. It listens without challenging. It observes pain without interrupting the cause. And in the end, it lets sin fester, addiction deepen, and wounds rot — all in the name of “understanding.”

That’s not love. That’s apathy dressed in empathy’s clothing.

Now look at compassion. Real compassion feels — yes — but it moves. It confronts. It speaks the truth in love. It’s gentle, but it’s not soft. It’s kind, but it’s not afraid to correct. It knows that healing sometimes stings and growth is often uncomfortable. Compassion refuses to leave people in their pain — it enters in with purpose.

Think of Jesus. He had compassion on the crowds — and He healed them. He taught them. He fed them. He called them out of darkness into light. He didn’t just say, “Wow, that’s tough,” and keep walking. He did what needed to be done — even when it meant flipping tables or confronting hypocrisy. That’s what love looks like when it has a backbone.

So let’s get this straight:
Compassion does what empathy won’t.
It makes the hard phone call.
It says, “You’re not okay — and I’m going to help you get there.”
It tells the addict, “I love you, but I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself.”
It tells the friend, “You’re spiraling, and I’m stepping in.”
It’s the parent who says “no” out of love.
The leader who holds a line.
The friend who speaks truth, even if it hurts.

This world has had enough of people “feeling for” others without actually helping them. What we need is a revival of compassion — gritty, loving action that heals instead of coddles.

You can feel with people all day long and never lift a finger to help them change. But compassion? Compassion rolls up its sleeves. It doesn’t just listen. It acts. It builds. It restores.

Empathy might leave you stuck. Compassion will carry you forward.

So here’s the challenge: stop applauding yourself for your feelings, and start asking what your love is actually doing. Is it changing anything? Healing anyone? Calling anyone to more?

Empathy whispers, “Stay where you are.”
Compassion says, “Let’s go — I’ll walk with you.”

Choose wisely. One path leads to deeper pain. The other leads to real freedom.

When Questions Are Silenced, the Church Suffocates

May 14, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Let’s stop pretending the Church is fine.

It’s not.

The numbers say it. The exodus of young people says it. The stale worship. The empty classrooms. The leadership pipelines that dried up a decade ago. They all scream what no one wants to admit: we are stuck. Not in doctrine. Not in Jesus. But in methods, mindsets, and models that have lost their grip on reality.

And every time someone dares to raise a hand to ask, What if we tried…? the answer isn’t curiosity. It’s control.

Let’s name the poison: fear.
Fear of change. Fear of innovation. Fear of losing comfort, influence, or nostalgia. Fear that masquerades as faithfulness.

And under the weight of that fear, creativity is choked out, ideas are left to rot in meeting minutes, and the Spirit-led boldness that marked the early Church has been traded for policy manuals and committee reports.

When questions are silenced instead of answered, the Church doesn’t just stagnate. She suffers. People suffer.

Whole communities go unreached. Entire generations leave because they were told their questions were divisive, their ideas disruptive, their creativity unorthodox.

All the while, Jesus weeps.

The Gospel is unchanging. But the way we carry it never was.

Jesus didn’t call the disciples to maintain a system. He called them to overturn one. He didn’t say, “Find the most comfortable way to reach people like you.” He said, “Go make disciples of all nations.” That meant language barriers. Cultural shifts. Wild methods. Radical risk.

He preached from boats. He taught with stories. He sat with outcasts. He blew up traditions that had calcified into idolatry.

“You have heard it said… but I say to you…” That wasn’t safe. That was revolutionary.

Yet in 2025, the Church shrinks back from that same edge. We cling to what’s known, what’s approved, what’s “how we’ve always done it.” We turn down the volume on innovation. We run creative leaders out of the room. We label new ministries unnecessary. We crush Holy Spirit dreams under layers of bureaucracy, protocol, and denominational red tape.

Jesus flipped tables in the temple. It seems the best we can do is form a committee to discuss whether the tables are Lutheran enough (insert your own denomination there).

And we wonder why no one’s listening. The world doesn’t care how it’s always been done. They care how Jesus lived, loved and lead.

Silencing questions is not just bad leadership. It’s spiritual malpractice!

When we shut down the dreamers, we shut out the very people God is calling to lead the next generation. When we ignore the young leader with a passion for digital ministry because “we’ve never done it that way,” we lose a voice who could reach those we’ve never reached. Heck we’ve probably never thought of reaching some of these people!

When we refuse to plant new ministries because “the budget doesn’t allow,” what we’re really saying is, “We don’t trust God to provide for the things He inspires.”

When we fail to mentor new leaders because we’re afraid they’ll do things differently, we’re not protecting the Church. We’re burying the talent God gave us and expecting applause for our caution. Newsflash friend, Jesus condemned that talent burying servant as wicked and worthless. I think we might be on the wrong side of this argument.

The Church is dying not because the Gospel lacks power—but because the Gospel-bearers lack courage.

Courage to ask, “What if?”
Courage to step out of the boat.
Courage to let go of sacred cows and grab hold of a cross.

Do we believe the Holy Spirit still speaks? Still moves? Still creates new things?Then why do we act like the Great Commission was fulfilled in 1965 and now we just need to maintain the property?

Jesus didn’t die so we could die on the hill of tradition. He rose so we could move forward with the message of the resurrection into our neighborhoods.

Here’s what has to change:

  • We need leaders who ask dangerous questions. Not heretical ones, but honest ones.
  • We need churches that give permission to fail, to experiment, to build what’s never been built.
  • We need to stop confusing liturgy with legacy. Tradition with truth.
  • We need denominations that empower churches instead of controlling them.
  • We need new expressions of the unchanging Gospel. And we need them now.

This is not a call to throw out doctrine. This is a call to remember that Scripture and our tried and true doctrine is the foundation, not the ceiling. That methods are tools, not idols. That ministry is mission, not museum curation.

If we keep silencing questions, we’ll silence the Church.

But if we listen? If we empower? If we unleash Spirit-filled, question-asking, tradition-challenging, Gospel-rooted pioneers?

Then maybe, just maybe, the next generation will stop walking away. And start walking in.

The Church doesn’t need more meetings. It needs more movement.

Let’s stop being afraid of the unknown. The God I serve…He’s already there.

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