Tag: Jesus (Page 7 of 68)

Christian Generosity Needs a Reboot

It’s no secret, giving can be hard.

Sometimes it feels like kale. We know it’s good for us, but we’re not exactly craving it.

And yet, generosity is central to what it means to follow Jesus.

The problem? Most American Christians give like they eat kale, occasionally, reluctantly, and only when someone guilts them into it. That’s what I’ve heard called 3S givingsporadic, spontaneous, and sparing.

The 3S Giving Problem

The numbers don’t lie. According to a 2022 State of the Plate report:

  • Only 5% of American churchgoers give 10% or more of their income.
  • 50% of people who attend church give $0 in a year.
  • The average American Christian gives about 2.5% of their income.
  • And giving as a percentage of income was actually higher during the Great Depression than it is today.

We’re not talking about people in dire poverty here. We’re talking about suburban believers with gym memberships, Amazon Prime, Netflix, the latest iPhone and a side hustle to pay for their dog’s grain-free diet.

Giving isn’t broken because we’re broke. Giving is broken because our hearts are.

Jesus was clear:

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21, ESV)

He’s saying the way we give reflects what we treasure.

Enter the Rich Young Ruler

Remember that guy in Mark 10? This rich young ruler comes to Jesus, eager to inherit eternal life. Jesus lists off a few commandments. The man checks all the boxes. He’s nailed it. But then Jesus drops the mic:

“You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21, ESV)

And what does the man do?

“Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.” (Mark 10:22, ESV)

He walked away!. Not because he didn’t love God, but because his stuff had a stronger grip on him than Jesus did.

Let’s not judge him too quickly. He’s us. He’s the modern Christian who tips God with a leftover $20 once in a while but wouldn’t dare rearrange their lifestyle to become truly generous.

There’s a Better Way: The 3P Giving Framework

If 3S giving is sporadic, spontaneous, and sparing, we need a shift. Let’s talk about 3P giving instead. This giving is:

  1. Priority-Based
    Give first. Before the bills, before the extras. It’s not about what’s left at the end of the month. It’s about putting God first.“Honor the Lord with your wealth and with the firstfruits of all your produce.” (Proverbs 3:9, ESV)
  2. Percentage-Based
    Choose a percentage of your income and commit to it. Start somewhere, anywhere! Maybe 5%, 10%, maybe even more. Percentage giving grows us in faith and reminds us that all we have is God’s anyway.
  3. Progressive
    As God blesses you, grow in generosity. The goal isn’t to check a box and stay there forever. It’s to stretch, to trust, and to keep growing. Could you imagine doing a reverse tithe? That’s living on 10% while giving away 90%! It can be done if we try hard enough.

Imagine if every Christian embraced 3P giving. Churches would have all the resources needed to expand ministry. Missionaries could be sent. Families in crisis could be helped. Needs in the community could be met with abundance instead of scarcity.

Let’s Laugh (and Then Get Serious)

Sure, giving hurts sometimes. You might hear your bank account groan a little. You might have to delay that 17th streaming service or put off the latest gadget. But you’re trading temporary comforts for eternal impact.

Generosity isn’t just a money thing. It’s a heart thing. It’s about becoming people who trust God more than stuff, who treasure heaven more than Amazon, and who know that we’ve been given everything in Christ, so we live open-handedly in response.

“Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” (2 Corinthians 9:7, ESV)

So here’s the challenge:
Audit your giving. Be honest. Are you living in the 3S world and giving sporadically, spontaneously, and sparingly? Or are you stepping toward 3P generosity that gives with priority, by percentage, and in a progressive way?

Let’s not be the rich young ruler who walks away. Let’s be the ones who follow and give with joy.

A Seat at the Table

While at the gathering we’ve been treated to original poems by Tanner Olson. Here’s my crack at a written to speak style poem summarizing last night’s event. Remember it’s written to speak which means you kind of need to read it aloud to get the rhythm to it.

I didn’t earn this place.
Didn’t climb enough ladders
or check the right boxes.
Didn’t bring a spotless résumé
or a perfect past,
just a mess of mistakes
and a hunger that wouldn’t quit.

But the table was set.
Candles flickered with welcome.
Chairs pulled out like open arms.
And there, at the head
was Jesus.
Not a scowling judge,
but a smiling Host,
nails in His hands,
grace in His eyes.

He didn’t ask what I brought.
Didn’t weigh my worth
on scales of effort or achievement.
He just said,
“Come. Sit. Eat.
You belong here, not because of you,
but because of Me.”

See, this table isn’t for the perfect.
It’s for the hungry.
The weary.
The wanderers and wrecked.
It’s not about merit,
it’s about mercy.
Not performance,
but promise.

The Host broke the bread, His body.
Poured the wine, His blood.
And every bite, every sip,
tastes like grace
so rich
it ruins every lie
that said I wasn’t enough.

So here I sit,
shoulder to shoulder with saints and sinners,
all the same in His eyes
not because we climbed our way in,
but because He came down
and opened the door.

We get a seat at the table
not because we’re worthy,
but because He is.
And He says,
“This chair has your name on it.”
That’s grace.
And it’s dinner time.

I Am That Joy

Inspired by Night 2 of the LCMS Youth Gathering & Hebrews 12:1–3

Some moments stay with you.

For many who gathered on Night 2 of the LCMS Youth Gathering, there was a phrase that echoed through the arena and hit deep into the soul:

“I am that joy.”

“Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”  Hebrews 12:2 (ESV)

What was the joy set before Jesus?
You were.

That truth landed like a wave. Jesus endured the mockery, the nails, the weight of sin not out of obligation or guilt but with joy. And that joy was you. It was your restoration. It was your freedom. It was your life made new in Him.

You are the joy that kept Him on the cross.

That realization changes everything, especially in the moments we feel too broken, too stuck, or too far gone to endure in Jesus.

Because if we’re honest, sometimes we don’t.
We give in to old habits.
We isolate in shame.
We spiral into addiction, self-harm, porn, or self-loathing, wondering if there’s any way back.

But Night 2 didn’t stop at the hard truth. It pointed us to hope real, honest, Spirit-filled hope.

Jesus endured the cross not just to rescue us but to recreate us. When we surrender the broken pieces to Him, the Holy Spirit goes to work not simply to polish us up, but to make us new.

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”  2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV)

So if you’re feeling like you’ve failed to endure, hear this:

There is no shame in coming back.
There is no darkness too deep.
There is no mistake too final.

Because Jesus saw all of it and still, you were the joy set before Him.
He didn’t quit on you then.
He won’t quit on you now.


Hold This Close:

  • Remind yourself of this throughout this week: “I am that joy.”
  • When shame creeps in, remind yourself: Jesus endured for me.
  • Pray: “Holy Spirit, take the broken places in me and make me new. I want to endure in Jesus.”

Let’s walk in that joy. Let’s endure not alone, not by our own strength but in Jesus.

Endure

There’s a reason the theme of this year’s Youth Gathering echoes loud and clear: Endure.

We live in a world where it’s easy to quit. Quit trying. Quit believing. Quit showing up. Life throws curveballs, culture applies pressure, and sometimes it feels like we’re barely holding on. But Hebrews gives us a different word. One that doesn’t ignore the struggle, but gives us power to walk through it:

“Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” – Hebrews 12:1–2 (ESV)

Jesus endured.
Not just pain. Not just betrayal. Not just death. He endured the cross. The most brutal, shameful, and unjust suffering imaginable for you. For the joy of your salvation, your freedom, your future. And now, we don’t run alone. We run with Him the One who already won.

The LCMS Youth Gathering theme isn’t about mustering up fake strength or pretending everything’s fine. It’s about looking to Jesus and realizing we can endure because He already has. His victory isn’t just history. It’s your hope today.

Whether you’re facing a hard school year, a friendship that’s falling apart, mental health battles, or questions about your worth and future you need to hear this: Jesus sees you. He hasn’t left you. And He isn’t asking you to sprint through life alone.

Instead, He says: “I’ve walked this road. I know how it ends. Keep going. Keep trusting. I’m with you.”

Endurance doesn’t mean you won’t get tired. It means you keep going anyway step by step, day by day, with your eyes on the cross and your heart fixed on grace. The cloud of witnesses surrounds you (Hebrews 12:1). You are not alone. The #lcmsyg community across the country is running this race too and together, we hold on to the One who holds us.

So when life feels heavy, don’t quit. Look to Jesus. Remember the cross. He endured it for the joy of seeing you free. And because He endured, so can you.


Quick Encouragement

  • Write this verse somewhere visible to you this week: Hebrews 12:2
  • Pray something like this: “Jesus, help me to keep going. Fix my eyes on You when I feel like giving up. Remind me I’m not alone. You endured the cross for me help me endure through You.”

You’re not just surviving. You’re enduring with Jesus. And that changes everything.

Money Replaces Mission

Drive through almost any county in America and you’ll spot them: gorgeous brick steeples hovering over empty parking lots, sanctuaries built for 300 now echoing with twenty voices and a stubborn furnace that costs more than the weekly offering. We’ve become better caretakers of drywall than of disciples. And the numbers back it up. Lifeway Research found 4,500 Protestant churches closed in 2019 while barely 3,000 opened, and the bleeding hasn’t stopped—Southern Baptists alone lost another 1,253 congregations in 2022.

Here’s the insane part: many of those congregations can’t even afford a full-time pastor. They hire pulpit supply by the Sunday, stash dwindling savings in a cemetery fund, and pray for a miracle while the boiler gulps their missions budget. Meanwhile church planters are meeting in school cafeterias, storefronts, and living rooms begging God for a permanent space and a little seed money. Kingdom opportunity is literally pad-locked behind stained-glass windows.

Jesus never called us to protect square footage. He said, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21, ESV). When the asset owns the disciples, the heart has migrated from the kingdom to the ledger.


The Denominational Elephant in the Room

Let’s talk about headquarters. Denominational offices boast endowments that could plant a hundred churches tomorrow, but too many operate like spiritual insurance companies—hoarding premiums, paying out pennies. When has it been acceptable for a church group to sit on millions of dollars while churches close and no new ones are open? The state wide church tradition to which I belong is sitting on over 4 MILLION DOLLARS and we haven’t planted a church in over 10 years and have closed at least 4 that I know of.

We’re willing to fund committees to study decline while the children next door never hear the gospel. If the metrics in heaven track baptisms, why do the budgets on earth track square footage?

Imagine divesting 10 % of those frozen assets each year for a decade. Local plants could purchase used sanctuaries for pennies on the dollar, immigrant congregations could inherit facilities designed for worship instead of taking third-hand warehouse leases, and digital-first discipleship platforms could reach teenagers who will never set foot in a 1960s fellowship hall. That’s not charity; that’s stewardship.


A Different Kind of Legacy

If your church owns more pews than people, your greatest ministry might be letting somebody else inherit the pews. Hold a celebration service, sign the deed over to a gospel-centered planter, and watch resurrection outrun resuscitation. Legacy isn’t granite nameplates; it’s new believers who will never know your name but will praise your God because you handed them the keys.

Denominational leaders: close the loopholes that let dying congregations hoard property until the last member’s funeral. Create a fast-track for transferring assets to mission-driven plants. Sell what can’t be handed off and funnel every nickel into training disciple-makers, funding campus launches, and building online platforms that meet Gen Z where they already live—on their phones. And for goodness sake, establish and implement a church planting strategy that brings the gospel to more people!

Local churches: start the conversation now, before the roof caves in. Ask, “If we dissolved tomorrow, how could this building bless the kingdom?” Put that answer in your bylaws and—better yet—in a signed agreement with a planter you trust.

Because when Jesus returns, He isn’t coming back for heritage committees or capital campaigns. He’s coming for people. Let’s make sure our treasure sits in lives transformed, not in limestone slowly eroding behind a For Sale sign.

Stop propping up the corpse. Transfer the assets. Plant something that can actually grow. The kingdom is advancing—with or without that building. Decide which side of the locked door you want to stand on.

Raising Kids in a Confusing World

Ever have this thought go through your mind? Raising kids today feels like building a straw fort in a windstorm.

The world is loud.
The rules keep changing.
The pressures seem to start earlier with every generation.
The questions get heavier.
And half the time, we don’t even feel confident in our own footing, let alone how to guide someone else.

Screens scream for attention. Culture pulls in every direction. And no matter how intentional you try to be, it feels like you’re always five steps behind and one mistake away from doing some kind of irreparable harm.

But here’s the thing: Kids don’t need perfect adults. They need present ones.

They need adults who are grounded enough to admit they don’t have all the answers. And steady enough to keep showing up anyway.

So how do we raise kids when the world feels upside down?

1. Choose presence over perfection.

You won’t always get it right. But showing up consistently with patience, hugs, boundaries, and grace builds something stronger than any flawless strategy.

2. Teach what’s true and model what’s real.

Your kids don’t need a scripted life. They need to see you wrestle with real things and come back to real values. Honesty, humility, faith, kindness. That’s the stuff that sticks.

3. Turn down the noise.

You don’t have to keep up with every trend. Instead of chasing what’s new, anchor your family in what’s timeless: love, respect, service, wonder, joy.

4. Let them see your limits.

It’s not a bad thing for your kids to know you’re tired, unsure, or struggling sometimes. That gives them permission to be human too. Vulnerability teaches resilience.

5. Pray more than you panic.

You won’t always have the right response in the moment. But your quiet, constant prayers over your kids matter. They matter more than you know. More than they’ll ever see.


Your job isn’t to raise perfect kids in a perfect world.
Your job is to raise loved kids in a messy one.
To point them to what’s good and true even when it’s hard.
To be a steady voice when everything else is spinning.

And if you’re doing that even just a little, you’re doing better than you think.


Keep going, even when it’s confusing. You’re raising hope in human form.

We Forgot How to Talk to Each Other

Have you noticed it?

How quickly everything turns into a fight.
How often people talk past each other instead of to each other.
How even simple conversations feel like walking through a minefield.

We’re surrounded by noise, not connection.
By opinions, not understanding.
By constant talking, but not much listening.

It’s not just politics or big debates either. It’s in family group chats. School pickup lines. Online threads. Holiday dinners. We’ve forgotten how to talk to each other like human beings instead of headlines.

And here’s the scary part: When we stop listening, we stop seeing each other. And when we stop seeing each other, we lose our capacity for compassion.

But it doesn’t have to stay this way.

What if the way forward isn’t about winning arguments but rebuilding conversations?

1. Get curious, not combative.

When someone says something you don’t understand or disagree with, try this: “Tell me more about that.” Not everything needs a rebuttal. Sometimes people just need to be heard. And sometimes you don’t know the whole story, so ask more assume less.

2. Lead with stories, not stats.

Arguments rarely change hearts, but stories can. Share your experience. Listen to theirs. You don’t have to agree to connect.

3. Assume complexity.

Most people are carrying more than they show. Don’t reduce someone to a label, category, or soundbite. You’d want the same grace. Maybe there’s more to the situation than you realize.

4. Stay offline when it matters.

Social media is not the best place for nuanced conversations. If it’s important, have it face-to-face or voice-to-voice. Real tone. Real eyes. Real humanity. So much of communication is nonverbal, so don’t have hard conversations that could be taken wrong in a venue that doesn’t communicate nonverbally.

5. Choose connection over being right.

You can “win” an argument and lose a relationship. That doesn’t mean you compromise truth, but it does mean you prioritize love. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can say is, “I’m still here, even if we don’t agree.”


You don’t have to shout louder to be heard.
You don’t have to prove your point to prove your worth.

We need people who know how to talk and even more, how to listen.
People who bring light, not heat.
People who choose dignity over division.

Let’s be those people. And it won’t hurt if we start today.


You don’t need all the answers just an open heart and a willingness to stay in the conversation.


We’ve Made Church Too Safe

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

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

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.

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