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The Overflow Life

When you look around, what do you see? A world that’s empty and bleak? Or a world bursting with possibility? I’m reminded of this question every spring when I plant my garden. A couple envelops of seeds sure don’t look like much. But in a few months those seeds become full grown plants that produce far more fruit and vegetables than I could imagine.

In the Genesis account, God didn’t just create for the sake of filling empty space. He made a world designed to be overflowing with life. Creation itself is a testimony to the abundance mindset that God has built into the very fabric of existence.

Every created thing has within it the power to bring forth something new. Fruit contains seeds, allowing them to reproduce and grow more fruit. Animals and humans, have the ability to reproduce and fill the earth. God didn’t design creation to be a one-and-done deal. He built it with the potential for multiplication, for abundance, for more. He planted a cycle of increase right into nature itself.

But here’s the secret we seem to have forgotten: this abundance mindset wasn’t just for creation—it’s meant for us too. Yet, many of us live with a scarcity mindset. We focus on what we lack instead of what we have. We look at the challenges, the struggles, and the limitations, and we convince ourselves that there just isn’t enough. Not enough time, not enough resources, not enough opportunities, not enough love, not enough grace. But when did God ever say there wouldn’t be enough?

Creation isn’t the only thing He filled with potential. He also filled you with potential. You have been made in His image, crafted by the Creator who designed this entire system of overflow. But so many times, we find ourselves operating out of fear, out of worry, out of this scarcity mindset that tells us we’ll never have enough. And it’s killing us.

The Bible is filled with reminders of God’s abundance. Look at how Jesus fed thousands with just a five loaves and two fish, and he even had leftovers. He turned water into wine, and I don’t mean a cup of it but gallons upon gallons! And when He said, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full,” He wasn’t talking about a mediocre, halfway kind of life. He was talking about an abundance of love, grace, and purpose.

A Mindset Shift

Now, don’t get me wrong: abundance doesn’t mean we’re all going to be swimming in cash or never facing tough times. This isn’t some backhanded way of talking about some form of prosperity gospel. It means that we stop letting fear and lack of anything dictate our lives. We stop saying, “I can’t,” and start asking, “What has God called me to do?”

The Apostle Paul talks about being content whether in plenty or in want (Philippians 4:12-13). Contentment isn’t settling for less. It’s the confidence that whether you have little or much, God’s got you. And let’s face it—God’s version of “little” is often more than we think.

But the problem is, so many of us don’t realize what we’ve been given. We see our lives as empty baskets instead of containers brimming with seeds. But remember, seeds don’t just grow on their own; they need planting. They need water, sunlight, and care. It’s time to plant seeds of abundance in our lives, our churches, and our communities.

Abundance is a Lifestyle

When we start to live with an abundance mindset, we begin to see opportunities where others see obstacles. We start seeing potential where others see problems. We become people who give freely, who love deeply, and who live fully.

Our churches need this mindset too. Are we going to be a church that hoards what we have, fearing it will run out? Or are we going to believe in the overflow? We have to step out in faith, believing that the same God who created this world of abundance can provide what we need to grow, to reach, and to impact more lives.

An abundance mindset isn’t just a nice idea; it’s a choice. It’s a choice to believe that God has given you enough to be a blessing, to make a difference, and to step out boldly. It’s a choice to look at your life, your church, your community, and see not what is lacking, but what is possible.

So, how are you going to live? Are you going to be someone who sits back, afraid of running out? Or are you going to be someone who steps out, believing that the God who made fruit with seeds, animals with the ability to reproduce, and humans with the power to create has also given you everything you need to live abundantly?

Let’s stop thinking small. Let’s step into the overflow. Because when you live with an abundance mindset, you’re not just living for yourself. You’re becoming a part of God’s plan to keep creation multiplying, thriving, and changing the world.

Whose Voice Matters Most?

We live in a world of noise. Everywhere we turn, voices are clamoring for our attention. They demand our loyalty, whisper doubt into our ears, and shout promises that never seem to be fulfilled. Among these voices, it’s easy to find ourselves lost, trying to make sense of the competing messages that surround us. When trust is broken, relationships fall apart, and we’re left shattered, those voices only get louder. But what if there was a way to silence them? What if, in the midst of the chaos, God’s voice could be the loudest voice we hear?

Imagine for a second that you’ve been let down by someone you trusted…deeply. A friend, a spouse, a family member—it doesn’t matter who, only that it hurts. The kind of hurt that gnaws at you and makes you question everything. Why did they betray me? Was it something I did? Could I have prevented this?

In the aftermath, our minds become a battleground, invaded by voices of accusation and guilt, swirling with regret and “what if” scenarios. We start doubting our worth, questioning our decisions, and maybe even reconsidering our faith. It’s a vicious cycle, one that leaves us feeling hopeless and alone.

In these moments, it’s all too easy to let the voices of the world consume us. They tell us to cut ties, to never trust again, to harden our hearts and move on without forgiveness. But what if those voices are leading us further from the healing we desperately need?

When God’s Word Speaks Louder

When I find myself lost in the fog of hurt and betrayal, I remember that there is one voice I can always trust—God’s. I know. I get it. He’s a pastor of course he would say that. Stick with me for a second.

In the Bible, we find words that cut through the noise, words that give us life, hope, and healing. They remind us of our true identity, rooted in Christ, not in the shattered pieces of broken relationships. The world isn’t coming more together. It’s falling more apart. If the more we lean into worldly friendship, the more we see our anger increase, then perhaps those worldly voices aren’t looking out for our best interests.

Psalm 55:22 says, “Cast your cares on the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken.” When the voices around us say we should give up or that we’re not worthy of love, God’s voice tells us that He cares. He wants our burdens, and He promises to sustain us even when everything else falls apart.

Think of God’s Word as an anchor, steady and unmovable, in a storm of changing tides. The world will pull you in every direction, offering temporary solutions for eternal problems. But God’s Word stands firm, rooted in truth that doesn’t change with time or circumstance.

Drowning Out the Noise

I don’t know about you, but I often find that the loudest voices in my life are not the ones I should be listening to. They’re the ones that play on repeat when I lie awake at night, replaying my failures and amplifying my fears. They’re the voices that stir up resentment and keep old wounds open. But I want to live differently. I want God’s Word to be the loudest voice in my life.

That takes effort, though. It’s a choice I have to make daily. I choose to open my Bible and listen to what God has to say about me, about my pain, about my future. I choose to drown out the voices of fear and doubt with the truth of His promises. And slowly, I begin to find peace.

When we allow God’s Word to be the loudest voice in our lives, we’re choosing to trust in His promises over our insecurities. We’re letting His truth redefine our worth, instead of letting the world or our failures do it. And in that place, we find healing. We find restoration.

Letting God’s Word be the loudest voice in our lives means allowing His truth to shape our perspective on broken relationships and even fractured trust. It means letting go of the lies that tell us we’re alone and that our mistakes define us. Instead, we hold onto the truth that God has plans for us—plans to give us hope and a future.

So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the noise, take a step back, take a deep breath and listen. Open His Word. Let it be the loudest, most reassuring voice in your life. And in that space of listening, allow God to begin His work of healing, because His love is greater than any betrayal, and His peace is deeper than any wound.

You are not defined by the fractures in your relationships or the trust that’s been broken. You are defined by the voice of God that speaks life, hope, and love into your heart. Make His Word the loudest voice, and you’ll find a strength that no other voice can offer.

Messed Up Discipleship

Personal opinion: the church has screwed up discipleship. And I don’t mean a little bit either. For years, probably even decades, we’ve treated discipleship and evangelism like two separate programs, as if you can have one without the other. Guess what: you can’t. True discipleship requires evangelism. It’s not a side dish on an a la carte menu . It is the mission. If the people in our churches aren’t actively reaching out, telling others about Jesus, and living out the Gospel in the world, then they’re not being discipled. It’s really that simple.

Too Safe

Somewhere along the way, we started making discipleship “safe.” We turned it into a series of cozy small groups, where people sip coffee and swap prayer requests. But is that really discipleship? Is that what Jesus had in mind when He said, “Go and make disciples of all nations”? Did He mean, “Sit around in your comfort zone and get spiritually fat while the world burns around you”?

No! Discipleship is a call to action. It’s gritty, raw, and uncomfortable. It’s not about self-help or spiritual navel-gazing. It’s about reproducing the life of Jesus in others. Disciples make disciples. And if we’re not doing that, we’re not being discipled; we’re being coddled.

What’s the Point?

The modern church has drawn a neat little line between discipleship and evangelism, like they’re two different ministry areas. We’ve got discipleship classes here, evangelism training over there. But that’s insane. You can’t be a disciple without evangelism because evangelism is at the core of discipleship.

Perhaps I need to say it again. If you’re not engaging in evangelism, you’re not being discipled. Jesus didn’t just call people to follow Him so they could hang out and get spiritually fed. He called them to go out and make more disciples. Discipleship isn’t a destination; it’s a multiplication process.

If your version of discipleship doesn’t include evangelism, then it’s counterfeit at best! It’s fake. It’s a watered-down, self-centered version of what Jesus actually commanded. We’re not called to hoard spiritual knowledge or just “grow deeper” while ignoring those who don’t yet know Jesus. Discipleship is evangelism in action.

Many Christians are far too content sitting within the walls of their own church buildings, worrying more about the temperature of the sanctuary than the struggles of the culture outside. We host our Bible studies, plan our potlucks, and give lip service to missions, but we avoid anything that might actually challenge us to reach out to people who don’t look, think, or act like us. We’re so busy protecting and preserving our history that we’re ignoring the people around us.

Here’s the thing: if your version of Christianity isn’t compelling enough to share, do you even believe in it? If the Gospel isn’t radical enough to drive you out of your bubble and into the world, then maybe you haven’t grasped the full weight of it.

Jesus didn’t die so we could get comfortable in pews and fill our heads with more information. He died to send us on a mission. That mission? To make disciples of all nations. Not just to sit in Bible studies with people who already believe what we believe.

How Easily We Forget

In Luke 9:23, Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow me.” He didn’t say, “Attend church regularly, memorize Bible verses, and stay comfortable.” No, Jesus called us to sacrifice, to step out of our comfort zones, and to follow Him into the broken places of the world. Attending worship and knowing the Bible aren’t bad, actually they are part of the discipleship process. But they are not the end goal of discipleship. The end goal of discipleship is that the world around us sees Jesus lived out in us and comes to know Him through our life witness. Notice that says life witness not just witness. It’s about living it out in our relationships through our words and actions.

When you read through the Gospels, Jesus was constantly engaging with people far from God. His disciples were right there with Him—learning, watching, and then doing the same things. They weren’t passive spectators; they were active participants in the mission of God.

The same is expected of us. If we claim to be disciples, we can’t just watch from the sidelines. We must be in the game—reaching people, building relationships, sharing the hope we have in Jesus. If we’re not doing that, we’re just playing church, and we’ve missed the point entirely.

Discipleship is not for the faint of heart. It’s war. Spiritual war. And I don’t throw that phrase out lightly. We’re pushing back against the darkness, not just for our own sake but for the sake of others. If your version of discipleship looks more like a church picnic than a battlefield, then you’ve missed it entirely.

Discipleship is about making war on the gates of hell. And you don’t do that by staying inside the walls of the church. You do that by stepping into the world and declaring the good news of Jesus to the lost, the broken, the hopeless, and the forgotten. That’s evangelism. And it’s not optional. It’s not for pastors and other church staff. It’s not for those with theology degrees. It’s for everyone who claims to follow Jesus.

It’s time to stop playing pretend. We can’t afford to keep drawing lines between discipleship and evangelism. If we’re serious about making disciples, then we need to start equipping people to reach those far from Jesus. Not in theory, but actually in practice.

It’s time to get back to the basics of following Jesus: go and make disciples. No excuses. No more sitting on the sidelines. If we’re not making more disciples, we’re failing at discipleship. It’s as simple as that.

Let’s be a church that’s known not just for what we know, but for what we do. Let’s be a church that multiplies, because disciples make disciples. And if we’re not doing that, are we even following Jesus.

Did We Trade Jesus for Tradition?

In far too many churches today, comfort and tradition have become king. We’ve polished the pews, crafted predictable schedules, and formed tight-knit circles where everyone knows the routine. Even our creative expressions have become a routine of their own. We cherish our sacred rituals, passed down through generations, but somewhere along the way, we have to ask: have we traded Jesus for tradition?

When Did Tradition Take Over

The gospel of Jesus was never about comfort. It was a disruptive, earth-shattering call to lay down our lives, pick up our crosses, and follow Jesus. Yet, somewhere along the way, churches began to confuse following Jesus with following routines and rituals. We set up structures, established a rhythm, and suddenly, what was meant to serve the mission became the mission.

How often do churches prioritize the way things have always been done? We cling to old worship styles, familiar liturgies, and routines that make us feel safe. But here’s the hard truth: Jesus never promised safety. He promised a mission that would shake us to our core. The church is meant to be alive, messy, and constantly adapting to reach the world with the gospel.

The Comfort Lie

Comfort is seductive. It feels good to know what’s coming next, to be surrounded by familiar faces, and to have everything mostly predictable. But the danger of comfort is that it can lull us into complacency. It makes us risk-averse, content with keeping things as they are rather than stepping into the unknown for the sake of the gospel.

Too often, we hold on to traditions that have long lost their purpose. We assume people are being changed simply because they show up on Sundays. Meanwhile, the world outside our stained-glass windows is crying out for hope, and we sit in our comfortable sanctuaries, unwilling to adjust our methods to reach them.

And if we’re honest, it’s not just the methods. Sometimes it’s the message. We soften the law, making it palatable, trying not to ruffle feathers, all in the name of keeping people in their comfort zones. But the law was never meant to make us comfortable. Likewise the gospel is often confused with something that is anything but gospel. We make it the gospel plus some attitudinal shift or lifestyle change. But the gospel is God’s welcoming us in spite of our shortcomings.

Rediscovering the Gospel’s Power

So, how do we reclaim the power of the gospel over tradition?

We start by asking hard questions: Are our traditions helping or hindering the mission of Jesus? Are we holding on to practices because they bring life, or just because they’re familiar? Jesus didn’t come to establish a static institution but to call a movement of believers willing to turn the world upside down for His name.

Take a hard look at the local church. Are people being transformed? Are lives being radically changed? If not, then maybe it’s time to reconsider whether the Jesus we proclaim is truly the one who walked the streets with tax collectors and prostitutes, who challenged the religious elite, who loved the unlovable, and who tore down barriers.

The early church didn’t have fancy buildings or rigid schedules, but they had the gospel, and it changed everything. What would happen if we were willing to let go of our comfort zones and embrace the unpredictable, radical call of Christ again?

The Thrill of Following Jesus

When a church chooses Jesus over tradition, everything changes. The mission comes alive, and so do the people. You start seeing new faces, hearing testimonies of transformation, and feeling the Spirit at work in ways you never imagined.

This isn’t about throwing tradition out the window. Some traditions carry deep meaning and connect us to the larger story of God’s people. But when tradition becomes a substitute for mission, when it stifles rather than serves, it’s time for a change.

Imagine a church that isn’t defined by what’s comfortable, but by its passion for the lost. A church that isn’t held back by routines but propelled forward by the relentless love of Jesus. That’s the church Jesus is building, and it’s far more exciting than maintaining the status quo.

It’s Time to Make the Shift

What is the most important thing we have as the church? The choice seems clear to me: Jesus or tradition as the most important principle of the church. One brings life, power, and purpose; the other can bring stagnation and safety. If we truly believe in the gospel, we can’t settle for comfort. We must be willing to break out of the mold, challenge the status quo, and be the hands and feet of Jesus to a world desperately in need of Him.

It’s time to ask ourselves: Have we traded Jesus for tradition? And if we have, are we ready to make the shift back to the life-changing gospel that started it all? Because the moment we choose Jesus over comfort, we step into a mission far greater than anything tradition could ever provide. And that’s where the real adventure begins.

Don’t Hate People Just Because They Sin Differently Than You

Let’s get something straight right out the gate. You’re not better than the person who sins differently than you. That might sound harsh, but it’s something the church desperately needs to hear. Too often, we Christians act like we’ve mastered righteousness, but in reality, we’re just expert finger-pointers. We throw around phrases like “hate the sin, love the sinner,” yet the way we treat people says something entirely different.

Instead of love, we dish out judgment. Instead of grace, we serve up condemnation. We look at people whose struggles don’t align with our own and think, “At least I’m not as bad as them.” It’s not only hypocritical, it’s unchristlike.

Let me make this as plain as possible. Jesus didn’t come to give you a hierarchy of sin so you could rank yourself against others. He came to save sinners, period. And guess what? You’re one of them. So am I. So is everyone! The gospel levels the playing field, and it’s time we stop acting like our sins are cute little mistakes while the sins of others are grotesque and unforgivable.

Christian Condescension?

The church has created a culture where some sins are deemed more acceptable than others. We don’t bat an eye at gossip, greed, or pride, but if someone is struggling with sexual identity or addiction, we act like they’re public enemy number one. We throw around words like “abomination” while conveniently ignoring that God detests all sin. Yes, including that prideful spirit we carry when we sit in the pews and shake our heads at “those people.”

This culture of condescension has pushed so many people away from the church—and not just the ones who don’t believe in Jesus. I’m talking about people who do believe but feel like they can’t bring their whole selves to the church because they’ll be judged, labeled, or even rejected. You know what that means? It means we’ve lost Jesus’ purpose for the church!

Jesus Loved the Outcast—Do You?

Take a look at Jesus. Who did He hang out with? The perfect? The pure? The religious elites? Nope. Jesus was drawn to the outcasts. He spent time with prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers, and those society deemed “unclean.” He didn’t just preach to them from a safe distance—He sat with them, ate with them, and loved them where they were.

Let that sink in for a minute. Jesus didn’t demand they clean up their lives before He could love them. He didn’t qualify His love with “as long as you get your act together.” His love was unconditional. And in the presence of that love, people’s lives were transformed. In the words of a group I’m part of, Jesus let people belong before they even believed everything he taught. I think we could learn from Jesus’ example!

Where is that love in the church today?

Let’s be honest. We’re more concerned with correcting people than we are with loving them. We want them to know they’re wrong before we show them they’re loved. That’s not how Jesus operated, and it’s no wonder it’s not working for us.

We All Need Grace

Here’s something we forget far too often: your sin might look different, but it’s still sin. Maybe you don’t struggle with the same things as someone else, but that doesn’t make you any less in need of God’s grace. You might not be battling addiction, but do you struggle with greed, anger, or pride? Have you ever lied, harbored bitterness, or been self-righteous? Welcome to the human condition.

Romans 3:23 doesn’t say “for some have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” It says all have sinned. Yes, that means you, me and everyone! So, why are we so quick to act like our own sins are no big deal while we crucify others for theirs?

Let me make this crystal clear: you are not the Holy Spirit. It’s not your job to convict people of their sin. That’s God’s work. Your job is to love people like Jesus did, without strings attached. You’re not called to change people’s hearts—that’s a burden only God can carry. You’re called to show the kind of love that leads people to want to know more about Jesus, not to judge them into hiding their struggles. We do need to call explain the right and wrong of the Bible but not to through judgement around like it’s candy at a parade.

Radical love looks like listening without lecturing. It looks like accepting people as they are. It looks like walking with people in the messiness of life, even if their mess makes you feel uncomfortable.

If we, as the church, want to see transformation, we need to create spaces where people can be honest about their struggles without fear of rejection. We need to be the kind of people who are known for love, not judgment. The kind of people who see past the surface and recognize the image of God in every human being, no matter what they’re going through.

Jesus didn’t shy away from the broken, and neither should we. In fact, He ran toward them, arms wide open. He loved people so deeply that they couldn’t help but be drawn to Him. That’s the model we need to follow. It’s time to stop acting like loving people means excusing their sin—it doesn’t. It means trusting God to do the convicting while we do the loving. When we rightly explain the law and the gospel of God, it opens a world of possibilities for the Holy Spirit. Paul tells us that faith comes from hearing the word of Christ. If we do the speaking, they’ll do the hearing and the Holy Spirit will do the rest.

Let’s start loving like Jesus did—radically, without reservation, and with the understanding that none of us are perfect. You can love Jesus without hating people who sin differently than you. That’s the gospel, and that should be the mission of the church.

The Mighty Will Fall

I recently read a book titled How the Mighty Fall by Jim Collins. It looks at some of the nations significant corporations, past and present, and evaluates the rise and fall of many of them. He overlays five stages of this falling process. I believe there is something in this book for us as individuals but also for the church. What follows is how I see the principles in this book being applied to the church.

It’s no secret, the church in North America is in decline. Attendance is down, people (young and old) are walking away, and once-thriving congregations are closing their doors. If this isn’t alarming to you, it should be. And no, this isn’t just another cultural shift we can sit back and ignore, hoping it will fix itself. In fact, Jim Collins’ analysis in How the Mighty Fall provides a sobering look at what happens when organizations—churches included—refuse to address the warning signs of decline.

In his book, Collins traces the downfall of successful companies through five distinct stages: hubris (pride) born of success, undisciplined pursuit of more, denial of risk and peril, grasping for salvation, and finally, capitulation to irrelevance or death. Sound familiar? It should. These stages aren’t just reserved for businesses; they apply directly to a variety of scenarios in life including the local church.

1. Detriment of Pride

The first stage of decline, according to Collins, is the arrogance that comes from past success. For decades, the church in North America sat comfortably in the driver’s seat of culture. We built massive buildings, programs, and ministries, and we thought we had it all figured out. The problem? We became arrogant. We assumed that because we were successful in the past, we would always be successful. We took on a build it and they will come mentality. We acted as though all we had to do was hold to what we believe and the rest would work itself out.

Collins warns that this kind of pride is dangerous: “Great enterprises can become insulated by their success, becoming bloated and slow in their decision-making processes” (How the Mighty Fall, p. 26). The church’s historical position in society made us complacent. We assumed that people would keep coming, that we would remain relevant just because we always had been. Guess what? We were wrong. And that arrogance has set us on a dangerous path.

2. I Want MORE!

The second stage of decline is what Collins calls the “undisciplined pursuit of more.” We’ve seen this play out in the church in numerous ways. As numbers started to dwindle, many churches responded by starting more programs, events, and ministries hoping something would solve the problem. Remember build it and they will show up right? More opportunities means more people will be here. Bigger worship experiences, more events, more complexity. But this lack of focus is killing us. Trying to be all things to all people in all circumstances isn’t working out well.

Collins states, “When an organization grows beyond its ability to fill its key seats with the right people, it has set itself up for a fall” (How the Mighty Fall, p. 39). The church, in its attempt to stay relevant, has often stretched itself too thin, offering everything to everyone while failing to keep its focus on its core mission: making disciples. We’ve traded depth for breadth, and now we’re paying the price. We traded discipleship and evangelism for programs and teaching styles.

3. Denial

Stage three is where things get really dangerous: denial. Collins says that organizations in this phase ignore the warning signs that their success is crumbling. The church in North America has been in this stage for decades, refusing to admit that we are, in fact, in decline. We point to outliers, large megachurches, or the strength of our teaching as proof that everything’s fine. But it’s not fine. We’re bleeding members, and our cultural influence is fading fast.

Here’s a hot take for you – the church does NOT exist without people!

Collins puts it bluntly: “In this stage, internal warning signs begin to mount, yet external results remain strong enough that leaders explain away disturbing data or attribute it to external factors” (How the Mighty Fall, p. 52). Sound familiar? We’ve been explaining away the decline of the church for too long—blaming secularism, technology, or changing moral values. But the real problem is our refusal to adapt and change.

Now don’t get your undies in a bunch! We need to know what can’t be change and hold fast. The truth of the Gospel. The purity of our doctrines are key! But the forms they take on? The way they’re expressed…those are the things that we need to be constantly evaluating.

4. Grasping for Salvation

In the fourth stage, Collins describes organizations in panic mode. They start grasping for quick fixes and salvation strategies. In the church, this often looks like chasing the latest trend: new worship styles, celebrity guest speakers, or flashy marketing campaigns. Or they move to the flip side and double down on tradition. We circle the wagons and cling tightly to what’s always worked so why not force everyone to look the same? But these are just Band-Aids on a gaping wound. “Leaders desperately search for a silver bullet,” Collins writes, “but most attempts fail to produce sustained improvements” (How the Mighty Fall, p. 78).

We’ve been trying to “fix” the church without addressing the root issues. These quick-fix strategies may work temporarily, but they aren’t sustainable.

5. Tapping Out

Finally, if we continue down this road, we’ll reach the fifth stage: irrelevance or death. This is where churches close their doors for good. And yes, it’s happening. All across North America, congregations are shutting down because they refused to acknowledge and act on the early stages of decline. “Capitulation is the final collapse,” Collins warns (How the Mighty Fall, p. 94). Will that be our fate too?

It Doesn’t Have To Be This Way

If we don’t wake up, we will continue down this path of decline. The church isn’t immune to the forces that cause other organizations to fall. We must acknowledge the warning signs, face reality, and take action before it’s too late. The good news is that Collins also emphasizes recovery is possible. But it requires humility, focus, and a willingness to change.

The time for complacency is over. Let’s stop denying the truth and start making the bold, hard decisions necessary to save the church before it’s too late. And it starts with an honest assessment of our current reality. If we can be brutally honest of our position on the lifecycle curve, we can properly address some next steps.

Stop Judging!

Ok so hard truth we may not like to hear. Christians are really good at judging each other. I’m not talking about some polite “maybe you should rethink that” kind of critique. No, I’m talking about the deep-seated, “I’m holier than you” attitude that seeps into Christian relationships. That’s exactly what Paul was tackling in Romans 14:13-23, and let’s be real—it’s something we still wrestle with today.

The Judgement Trap

Paul opens this section with what some would call a mic drop: “Therefore, let us stop passing judgment on one another.” Bam! Paul doesn’t sugarcoat things at all does he. He knows that, left unchecked, we love to size up other people’s faith—what they eat, drink, or how they worship—and use that as a measuring stick for righteousness. Or perhaps a bludgeoning tool to beat our brother down. It’s like we’re always looking for an excuse to prove that we’re somehow “better” than the next believer.

But this attitude poisons our relationships. Paul tells us to knock it off. He flips the script and says, “Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way.” (v. 13). In other words, stop acting like your version of Christianity is the only one, and focus on helping each other grow in Christ. Jesus is the only way to the Father, but you and I are not the only way to Jesus!

When Freedom Hurts

I love the idea of freedom. It just feels good when my freedom lines up with my lifestyle and passion. Who doesn’t love the idea of being free in Christ? But here’s the kicker—Paul says that sometimes your freedom can hurt someone else. In verse 15, he writes, “If your brother or sister is distressed because of what you eat, you are no longer acting in love.” What? So my personal freedom can be a stumbling block for someone else’s faith?

Yup. And that stings because we hate the idea of limiting ourselves for someone else. But Paul isn’t just talking about food either—he’s using it as a metaphor for any area of Christian freedom. Maybe you feel free to have a drink, but you’ve got a friend who’s been sober for years. Your freedom to crack open a cold one could cause them to stumble. Is your personal liberty worth the damage to someone else’s faith? Paul says no, and I sure hope we all feel the same way!

Unity

So, what’s the big idea here? Unity. Romans 14:19 lays it out: “Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification.” Translation? Quit fighting over the small stuff and start building each other up.

Paul isn’t saying that we should all agree on everything. There’s space for disagreement and diversity in the body of Christ. But he is saying that we should stop letting minor differences tear us apart. When you prioritize peace and edification—building each other up—you create healthy, strong relationships that actually reflect the love of Jesus. That’s what people outside the church need to see.

Look at 1 Corinthians 8:9 for another way of hearing this: “Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak.” It’s the same idea—your rights, while important, are secondary to the emotional and spiritual health of your brothers and sisters in Christ.

Love Not Legalism

Here’s where it gets fun. When you start living with this “building up” mentality, you’ll find that relationships within the church get a whole lot healthier. Instead of being caught up in judgment, you’re caught up in love. You’re not trying to out-Christian your neighbor; you’re trying to encourage them.

Paul encourages us in Romans 14:17 to focus on the important stuff: “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” The Christian life isn’t about following a rigid set of rules; it’s about living in joy, peace, and righteousness—and helping others do the same. When we embrace that, our relationships thrive.

Major in the Majors

At the end of the day, Paul’s message in Romans 14 is clear: stop nitpicking and start loving. Focus on what matters—righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. Keep the main thing the main thing. It’s ok to let the little differences slide. You’ll find that when you do, you’ll build deeper, healthier relationships.

So, next time you’re tempted to judge someone else for how they practice their faith, ask yourself this: Is my goal to help them grow closer to Jesus? If it’s not my goal, it’s time to take a step back, check our pride, and focus on what really matters—love, peace, and mutual growth.

And remember: “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” (Romans 15:7). That’s the heart of healthy Christian relationships.

Vegetables and Bacon

Let’s talk veggies and bacon—two foods that couldn’t be more different. On one side, you’ve got your veggie lovers. They stick to the kale, spinach, and broccoli, probably starting their day with the one of those green smoothies, and wouldn’t dare put bacon anywhere near their salad. On the other hand, there are the bacon enthusiasts—crispy, salty, sizzling—who think bacon belongs on everything. And if there’s a vegetable involved, it’s only there to hold the bacon in place.

Now, believe it or not, this division isn’t just reserved for the dinner table—it’s a perfect setup for a conversation about living out our faith. And Paul, in Romans 14:1-12, does exactly that. He uses the example of food, specifically the tension between those who eat only vegetables and those who enjoy all foods, to make a larger point about the strength and weakness of faith. But before you think this is some kind of ancient argument between vegans and carnivores, let’s dive deeper into what Paul is really saying and how it can apply to our lives and the way we worship today.

The Backdrop

In Romans 14:2, Paul says, “One person’s faith allows them to eat anything, but another, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables.” There it is—Paul calls out the veggie eaters as “weaker.” But why? Is he picking on those with healthier diets? Not at all. This isn’t about what’s on the plate; it’s about what’s in the heart.

In the early church, especially among Jewish believers, food laws from the Old Testament were a big deal. Certain foods were clean, others unclean, and eating the wrong thing could make you unclean. Some early Christians, still tied to these food laws, stuck to vegetables to avoid breaking any rules. Others, like the Gentiles who had no such dietary restrictions, enjoyed a bacon-wrapped feast without a second thought. Paul is saying that those still bound by the old rules—those who can’t let go of the law’s limitations—are “weaker” in faith. Their faith is restricted by old regulations. But those who understand the freedom found in Christ, the freedom to enjoy all that God has made, are “stronger” in their faith.

We need to hit pause for a second when we talk about stronger and weaker. It’s not about duration in the church or how many Sundays a year one attends worship. This stronger and weaker imagery is about having a deficiency in our understanding of the gospel. Paul is saying that those who still think the rules and regs of the old covenant will save them or make them more acceptable have a deficiency in their understanding of what Jesus actually did. They’re missing the freedom that is found in the completed work of Christ.

From Food Laws to Worship Wars

Let’s move this conversation from the dinner table to the sanctuary. Just as there were food laws in the Old Testament that governed what was acceptable to eat, there are unwritten “worship laws” today that dictate what is considered “acceptable” worship.

Some people believe that worship has to look a certain way—maybe it’s only hymns sung from a hymnal, or perhaps it’s the opposite, with only contemporary praise songs led by a guitar. There’s often a feeling that if worship doesn’t follow these specific styles, then it’s somehow less spiritual or less God honoring. These preferences can be strong, but they’re preferences not prescriptions found in the Bible. In some churches, clapping during worship might feel like breaking the bacon rule, while in others, not raising your hands could feel like opting out of the vegetable aisle entirely.

But here’s the thing—just as Paul says that faith isn’t about sticking to old food laws, our relationship with Jesus isn’t dependent on one specific style of worship. Those who find themselves trapped in only one mode of worship, thinking it’s the only way to please God, might be what Paul would call “weaker.” Their faith is bound up in limitations and rules, much like the vegetable eaters of Romans 14.

But those who find freedom in Christ—the ones who understand that it’s not the style but the substance, or better yet the object of worship that matters— these are the ones Paul describes as stronger. They can worship through hymns, contemporary songs, or even in silence, knowing that the point is not about how worship looks but about whom it glorifies.

Paul’s message is clear: don’t judge those who differ in how they express their faith. “Who are you to judge someone else’s servant?” he asks in Romans 14:4. Whether you’re a veggie eater or a bacon lover, whether you prefer organ music or electric guitars, we all answer to the same Lord. And He is the master making us each His servant, not the servant of one another. The beautiful part about this passage is the reminder that God has accepted us, not because of what we eat, how we sing, or what rules we follow, but because of His grace.

In Romans 14:12, Paul brings it all home: “So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.” In other words, worry about your own faith journey, not someone else’s. Focus on your relationship with Christ, and let others do the same. If someone worships differently than you, that’s between them and God. There are multiple expressions of faith. The key is that these expressions need to be God-honoring, focus on the work of Father-Son-Holy Spirit in our lives, recognize the death and resurrection of Jesus as the only way to heaven.

Just like there’s room in the kingdom for both veggie lovers and bacon enthusiasts, there’s room for all kinds of worship styles. The strength of our faith isn’t measured by how rigidly we follow traditions or how modern we make things. It’s about understanding the freedom we have in Christ—a freedom that allows us to worship in a way that’s authentic to our hearts while extending grace to others who do it differently.

So next Sunday, whether your worship involves an old hymn or a new chorus, remember that it’s not the style that matters. What matters is that we’re worshiping Jesus—the only One who gives us the freedom to celebrate in a multitude of ways. And if you happen to enjoy a post-church brunch, feel free to add some bacon. Paul would approve.

One Of My Favorite Days

Historically this was one of my favorite days. It was still a bit eerie but stands out as quite the amazing day nonetheless.

The skies were still empty. Life still was standing still for the most part.

Businesses were closed in some sectors of the country. Schools weren’t sure if they should open or close. Churches opened their doors wide up to welcome any and all who just needed some form of comfort and hope.

The dust was still covering most of Manhattan. The military mights from across the spectrum of our allied nations were jockeying for prime position to have the greatest impact of retaliation.

But more notable for me was the way we all bled the same color that day.

Today I hear a lot about blues and reds and even the blended purple of states across this nation. But that day our blood flowed the same. Our hearts beat as one.

It was cool to hear God Bless America playing in random places. People were flying the American Flag that had never flown one before. While I have no real stats on this, I’d imagine flag sales went through the roof as the entire nation became one mass of patriotism.

The day before we suffered a catastrophic blow but it wasn’t fatal. Sure thousands would lose their lives that day but the nation as a whole wasn’t crushed. We stumbled. We even fell on our face for a moment. But on 9.12 we could be seen in a kneeling posture regaining composure. We were gathering our whits and evaluating our surroundings.

Together we cared for loved ones. Together we looked out for neighbors. Together we stood to sing our national anthem. Together we paused when we saw a flag flying. Together we lifted the wounded and grieved with those who mourned.

We were stronger because we did it together.

It was truly one of my favorite days. I look around and long for that feeling again. I see how we handle election season and see how weak we’ve become. We’re not weak because we are a weak nation. We’re weak because we’re so divided. I think back to the great fall through the years of the pandemic. We suffered greatly because we didn’t do it together.

You’d think we’d learn, but I fear we’re too self absorbed to learn from one another. The best we can do is lay down our differences and put aside our agendas and focus on those around us.

It truly was one of my favorite days because we lived up to our name. Divided we will fall. But that day united we stood, stronger than ever.

If only we remembered

The pictures are everywhere today. Photoshopped images with super imposed phrases. 

Never forget. 

We will always remember. 

If only we remembered.

In the moment it was devastating. I will certainly remember forever where I was. I’ll remember as I heard the first airplanes go overhead. Fighter jets scrambled from the local airport. It’s not something I heard every day. 

The images that filled our television screens were horrific at best. Smoke and dust filled the air. People were crying, others gasping for air. 

Police and firefighters were transformed before our very eyes into the every day heroes they had always been. Politicians linked hands across the aisle. We no longer saw those who disagree with us over trivial matters as enemies. We had a real enemy. And we were more united than ever. If only we remembered. 

For several weeks, people across the country would gather, linking arms vowing to never stop until justice was served. Our resolve as a nation had never been stronger. They woke a sleeping giant we thought. We will make them pay was another phrase echoed from sea to shining sea. If only we remembered. 

But those weeks would turn to months, and months would turn to years. With every passing anniversary we would vow yet again to “never forget.” Perhaps I’m a pessimist but it sure looks like we don’t have as good a memory as we claim.

But what would happen if we actually remembered?

How would life be different if we remembered on October 1 or February 12 or May 7 or any day for that matter? What would be different if we actually remembered the gut punch we felt on September 11, 2001? What would be different if we as a people stood together the way we did on September 12, 2001?

The answer is simple.

We would be strong. We would be fearless. We would be a beacon of hope. We would be a refuge to the weary. We would be united. And there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind exactly who we were. If only we remembered. 

It’s ok to post your tower pic. It’s ok to reflect on where we’ve been. It’s ok to shed a tear but perhaps instead of any of these things we could actually remember. We could stand next to someone who doesn’t see eye to eye with us and realize that’s what made this nation great. A common ground for uncommon thoughts. A safe haven for the oppressed. A powerhouse renowned around the world.

Perhaps instead of saying we remember, we could actually remember. We could live the September 12th life again. Perhaps we can be the people our pictures reflect.

If only we remembered.

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