Today is Holy Saturday—the day between heartbreak and hope. The sanctuary stands quiet. The week has been long. Holy Week always carries its own weight, but this year, it feels heavier. Maybe it’s the rain tapping gently on the windows, or maybe it’s the fire that startled our rhythm and left its mark—small but unsettling. Smoke lingers longer than flames, and so does disruption.

We’re grateful the damage was minimal. The building still stands. The cross is still there. But the unexpected has a way of rattling even the strongest faith. This week we’ve walked through the betrayal, the cross, the silence—and we’ve carried more than just the usual Holy Week weariness. We’ve carried the stress of plans interrupted, the ache of uncertainty, the fatigue that comes from trying to hold it all together.

And now we wait.

Holy Saturday is not a day of action. It’s not loud. It doesn’t clamor for our attention. It simply invites us to sit with the sorrow of Friday and the promise of Sunday. It is the space in-between, the breath held tight before the sigh of resurrection.

The rain outside feels fitting. It slows us down. It quiets the soul. And maybe that’s what we need—to be still for just a moment, to remember that even in the ashes, God is preparing something new. The tomb may be sealed, but the stone soon will be moved. We may feel stuck in the silence, but resurrection is already stirring beneath the surface.

So today, let the rain fall. Let the silence speak. Let the ashes remind you that God is never finished—not with churches, not with people, not with you.

Sunday is coming. And with it, the hope that rises—not just from the ground, but from the very heart of God.

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

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

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

Because we serve a God who specializes in resurrection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is risen.
And so shall we.

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

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

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

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

Politics Can’t Save Us

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

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

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

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

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

Sound familiar?

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

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

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

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

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

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

History repeats when truth is ignored.

So, What Do We Do?

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

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

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

1. Turn Down the Noise

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

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

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

2. Build Bridges, Not Echo Chambers

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

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

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

3. Raise the Next Generation with Backbone

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

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

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

4. Be the Church Again

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

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

5. Pray Like It Matters—Because It Does

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

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

Is America losing its soul?

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

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

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

“You do you.”
“Live your truth.”
“Follow your heart.”

These all sound empowering, right?
It’s the self-esteem gospel of our generation.
The problem? It’s killing us.

Let’s call it what it is:
A beautiful-sounding lie.

And it’s everywhere. We see it in Disney movies, Instagram captions, graduation speeches, and TikTok reels. The message is always the same: The path to peace is found by looking inward.

But here’s the harsh reality is: Your heart is not a compass—it’s a disaster.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?”
— Jeremiah 17:9 (ESV)

That verse doesn’t make for a great Hallmark card. I know! But it does explain a lot.

The Myth of Self-Discovery

We’ve been told that the ultimate goal in life is to “discover who you are” and “authentically live that out.” Sounds noble. Except it doesn’t work. Why?

Because who we are without Jesus is broken. We’re born into sin, bent toward selfishness, prone to pride, and wired to seek validation from anywhere but God.

Hustle culture says, “Be your best self.”
Jesus says, “Die to yourself.” (Luke 9:23)

Influencers say, “Chase your dreams.”
Jesus says, “Follow me.” (Matthew 4:19)

Culture says, “You are enough.”
Jesus says, “I am enough.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

When “You Be You” Goes Off the Rails

We’ve never had more self-expression and less identity. More personalization and less peace. More curated profiles and fewer real relationships.

You be you has morphed into a license for chaos. When “living my truth” overrides the truth, everything collapses.

Marriage gets redefined. Gender gets deconstructed. Truth gets relativized. And people get more confused, more anxious, and more spiritually lost than ever before.

And all the while, Jesus is still whispering the same thing He’s said for 2,000 years:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28 (ESV)

The Way Out

But there is good news. You weren’t created to “be you.” You were created to be His.

“Therefore, 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)

Jesus doesn’t want to upgrade the old you—He wants to transform you.

Not into a fake church version of yourself.
Not into a robotic rule-follower.
But into someone fully alive in grace, truth, freedom, and purpose.

You don’t have to invent your identity. You can receive it—from the One who made you.

So What Now?

If you’re tired of chasing your tail trying to “find yourself,” here are a few ways to get real:

1. Get Honest

Admit that “you be you” hasn’t delivered. The hustle for identity is exhausting. Name it. Own it. And bring it to Jesus.

2. Open the Word

God doesn’t leave your identity to guesswork. Start with Ephesians 1. See what God says is already true of you in Christ.

3. Join a Community That’s After Truth

Stop surrounding yourself with echo chambers and empty slogans. Find people who point you to Jesus, even when it’s uncomfortable. Find people who can speak hard truth into your life. You don’t have to like it but you absolutely need it.

4. Ask Better Questions

Instead of “Who am I?” ask, “Whose am I?” Instead of “What do I want to be?” ask, “Who is God calling me to become?”

Jesus didn’t come to help you “find yourself.” He came to help you lose your life—and find something better. Not fake. Not filtered. Not fragile.

Real identity. Real purpose. Real peace.

So let’s stop settling for slogans and start chasing truth.

If you’re ready to trade “you be you” for something deeper, come check out what God is doing around here. No filters. No pretending. Just real people becoming who Jesus made us to be.

It should be no secret. Ministry can wreck you. Spiritually. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. I work with a lot of pastors and the comments are like a chorus that’s being sung over and over by so many.

Wayne Cordeiro’s Leading on Empty is not just another leadership book. It’s a wake-up call for every leader who’s ever wondered if they can keep going… and for those who haven’t realized yet that they’re dangerously close to the edge.

I just finished reading it, and I’m still sitting in the weight of it all. This isn’t theory. This is the honest, gritty story of a pastor who hit the wall—hard—and the way God met him in the middle of his burnout. If you’re leading in ministry, especially in the church, and you haven’t read this book yet, stop everything. Read it. Then read it again. Your soul is too valuable to ignore. If you’re not in ministry, this is a great window into the daily battle that many pastors and ministry leaders face.

Burnout Isn’t a Buzzword. It’s a Battle.

Cordeiro, founding pastor of New Hope Christian Fellowship in Honolulu, was leading one of the fastest-growing churches in America. From the outside, it looked like success. But inside, he was depleted. Exhausted. Numb. He describes waking up one morning and realizing, “I had nothing left to give.” The scary part? He is by no means the exception—he’s the mirror for many in ministry leadership positions.

Pastors, church staff, ministry leaders—how many of us are sprinting on fumes? We’re busy preaching grace but living like it doesn’t apply to us. We tell others to rest in Christ while wearing our exhaustion like a badge of honor. That disconnect is not only dangerous; it’s deadly.

Cordeiro pulls no punches. He names the lie that so many have come to believe: that the church can’t survive without us. He calls out the internal pressure to do more, be more, give more, until there’s nothing left. And then he gives us a better way—one rooted not in striving, but in sustainability.

Key Takeaways (That Might Just Save Your Life)

1. You can’t give what you don’t have. Ministry flows from overflow, not obligation. If your cup is dry, what are you pouring out?
2. Your soul has limits. Cordeiro introduces the idea of a “personal sustainability plan.” It’s not selfish; it’s stewardship. Build your life with regular rhythms of rest, exercise, solitude, and joy.
3. Rediscover your life-giving zone. Not everything you do fuels you. Learn the difference between what drains you and what feeds your soul—then adjust accordingly.
4. Sabbath is not optional. It’s not legalism; it’s life. Cordeiro learned (the hard way) that even Jesus rested—and we’re not stronger than Him. If we’re not finding regular rhythms of intentional and total rest, we will hit the wall and for many that crash is something they can’t come back from at all.
5. You’re not alone. Perhaps the most healing part of the book is knowing you’re not crazy, weak, or faithless. You’re human. And God meets us there.

From Empty to Alive

This book doesn’t just describe the problem; it models the path to restoration. Cordeiro talks about stepping away, going to a monastery, walking by a lake, journaling, and letting God speak into the silence. The book itself becomes a quiet retreat—an invitation back to the God who called you in the first place.

Cordeiro’s book should challenged us. Convicted us. Comforted us. But more than that, it invite us to live and lead differently—to stop pretending that burnout is just part of the calling.

Final Word to Fellow Leaders

We don’t need more heroes in ministry. We need more healthy leaders. Leaders who know how to say no. Leaders who lead from rest, not adrenaline. Leaders who take care of their souls before they try to save someone else’s.

Don’t measure yourself by what someone else can do. We don’t all run at the same speed or with the same capacity. You need to be self aware.

If you’re running on empty, this is not the end. It might just be the beginning of something better. God doesn’t need you burned out. He wants you whole.

Take the time. Do the work. Read the book. Let God refill what’s been running dry.

You can teach someone how to lead. You can teach them all the buzzwords, all the strategies, and every “effective leadership” trick in the book. But there’s one thing you can’t teach, no matter how many seminars you sign up for, no matter how many management books you read. You can’t teach character.

Integrity isn’t some trendy leadership trait either. It’s not a skill you can pick up after a weekend retreat. It’s either there or it’s not. You either have it, or you don’t. Integrity is the thing that makes you who you are when nobody’s looking. It’s what separates “leaders” from “pretenders.”

Too many people in leadership positions today are nothing short of impostors. They’ve learned how to talk the talk, they’ve mastered the art of the smooth presentation, but when the heat is on? They crumble.

They make excuses. They throw others under the bus.

You don’t need another “motivational” speaker who gives you a catchy quote. You need someone who leads by example, someone who doesn’t just say the right things but does the right things—no matter what. Leadership isn’t about keeping up appearances. It’s about being the real deal, even when it costs you something. Even if it costs you next to everything.

Unfortunately some people need to be reminded that Character can’t be faked. You can plaster a smile on your face, write the perfect speeches, or fake it ’til you make it. But when the stuff hits the fan in life, those tactics will fall apart faster than you can say “leader of the year.”

You want people to follow you? They need to know you’ll stand firm when the chips are down. If you’re in it for the glory, the recognition, or the power trip, you’ll show your true colors when the pressure mounts.

People aren’t stupid! They can tell when you’re full of crap. They can sense when you’re just saying the right things to get ahead. They can smell a rat when they see one. And the moment they realize you’re not in it for them, or worse, that you’ll throw them under the bus to save your own skin? They’re gone. And don’t think you’ll ever get that trust back. It’s like glass: once it shatters, it’s nearly impossible to put back together.

So, what does integrity look like in leadership? It’s standing tall when everyone else is bending the rules. It’s making the hard call, even when it costs you. It’s taking responsibility when you screw up—and you will screw up. It’s telling the truth even when a lie will make you look better in the moment. It’s showing up day in and day out and doing what you promised, even when there’s no applause, no fanfare, not even a pat on the back.

Want to know when your true character shows? It’s when you’re in the trenches, when everything’s falling apart, and when the easy option is to save face or deflect. That’s when you’ll either step up or sell out. Will you take the high road, or will you fold like a cheap tent? Will you take the heat, or will you toss someone else into the fire to save yourself?

Leadership without integrity isn’t leadership. It’s manipulation. 

That’s the kind of stuff that gets exposed when the pressure’s on. Real leaders are in it for the people they serve, not for the power or the perks. They’re in it for the mission, not the personal gain. If that doesn’t resonate with you, then maybe it’s time to reevaluate why you’re in the game at all.

Leadership that’s built on integrity isn’t flashy. It’s not about being the loudest voice in the room. It’s not about winning popularity contests. It’s about being the rock when everyone else is losing their grip. It’s about doing the right thing, even when nobody’s watching, and especially when it’s inconvenient. It’s about taking responsibility and leading with consistency, not just when it’s easy but especially when it’s hard.

So, here’s the bottom line: you can be trained in all the leadership techniques in the world, but if you don’t have integrity, none of it matters. You can’t fake character. You can’t hide it. You either have it, or you don’t. If you’re in a leadership position and you’re not leading with integrity, you’re just taking up space. You’re not leading anyone—you’re just using people to get ahead.

Don’t let that be your legacy. The world doesn’t need more pretenders. It needs leaders who can stand firm, who can own up, and who will lead with integrity when it matters most. That’s the kind of leadership that lasts.

We are more connected than ever—and more anxious than ever.

Scroll. Compare. Numb. Repeat.
Welcome to the new normal. And it’s not working.

If you feel more distracted, more anxious, more unsure of who you are—you’re not alone. You’re living in the age of curated chaos. And it’s messing with our minds and our souls.

Psychologist and author Jonathan Haidt calls it out in his new book, The Anxious Generation. His research is clear: the rise of the smartphone and social media has triggered a mental health crisis—especially among teens.

Haidt writes,

“We have overprotected our children in the real world, while underprotecting them in the virtual world.”

Translation?
We pad our kids when they ride their bikes, but we’ve made the internet a playground with no guardrails. Yet we seem shocked when kids crash emotionally and relationally.

It’s Not Just a Teen Problem

Adults are drowning too.
Doomscrolling. Anxiety spirals. FOMO.
We live in a world that’s constantly broadcasting but rarely connecting.

We’re flooded with highlight reels, rage bait, and fake perfection—then wonder why we feel empty. TikTok doesn’t offer identity. Instagram can’t give peace. And followers don’t equal friends.

Jesus said it plain:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”
— John 14:27 (ESV)

But we’ve traded real peace for digital noise.

The Lie of “Always On”

The Anxious Generation explains it well—when life becomes about 24/7 performance, your soul burns out.

There’s no off switch. No quiet. No rest.

We’re chasing likes, dodging judgment, and comparing every moment to someone else’s edited and filtered version of reality.

Haidt argues that the decline of in-person experiences—sports, youth groups, family dinners—has been replaced by infinite screen time. And it’s wrecking emotional health.

And here’s the hard truth:
We weren’t made for this.

We were made for presence.
For purpose.
For real connection.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
— Psalm 46:10 (ESV)

What If There’s Another Way?

What if you stopped scrolling long enough to breathe?
What if you stopped comparing long enough to look around and notice—
You’re not alone.
You’re not broken.
And you don’t have to hustle for your worth.

Jesus didn’t come to build your brand. He came to restore your soul.

He didn’t die so you could look better in selfies. He died so you could live—fully, freely, fearlessly.

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
— John 10:10 (ESV)

So What Can We Do?

Here are some bold, practical steps for fighting back against the anxious spiral:

1. Reclaim Your Mornings

Before you reach for your phone, reach for the Word. Start with a Psalm. Give God your first scroll. Not a Jesus person? Focus on something other than what everyone else is doing. Deep breathing. Go for a walk. Sit in the quiet and meditate for a few minutes.

2. Digital Sabbath

Take one day a week to power down. No social. No emails. Just real life, real people, real moments. Sabbath is a biblical idea but it’s not just for Jesus’ followers. We were all designed to hit the pause button. So find some intentional time to pause and re-center.

3. In-Person Beats Online

Join a small group. Invite a friend to coffee. Get in a room where people know your name and your story. We’ve tried to make something highly relational into something purely digital but you just can’t do that. Relationships don’t form as fully when they’re fully digital.

4. Talk About It

Anxiety loses power when it’s spoken. Talk to someone. A pastor. A counselor. A friend. Don’t battle this alone. Anxiety and worry win when they are the only voices we hear. Talking through a challenge or struggle will lessen its intensity over you.

5. Follow Jesus, Not Just Influencers

He’s not trending—but He’s truth. He doesn’t offer filters—He offers freedom. Influencers come and go. You’re always trying to find the right person to imitate. But Jesus calls us to simply follow him. Like a little child walking behind their dad through thick snow stepping into every footprint of the father. Follow where Jesus leads and you won’t be led astray.

It’s Time to Get Real

Fake connection is killing us.
Let’s trade pixels for presence.
Let’s go after something deeper than the algorithm can offer.

If you’re tired of anxiety running your life, there’s hope. His name is Jesus. He’s not a trend—He’s the truth. And He’s still healing hearts.

You don’t have to fake it here.
You just have to show up.

Let’s find peace again. Together.

Warning – unpopular topic: A lot of church is boring.

Not just “I didn’t like the music” boring.
Not just “the sermon went too long” boring.
I’m talking soul-numbing, mind-wandering, when-is-lunch boring.

And people—young and old—are done pretending otherwise.
But here’s the kicker: It’s not Jesus’ fault.

Jesus is anything but boring. I mean check this out.

He turned water into wine at a party (John 2:1–11).
He walked on water (Mark 6:48–50).
He told off the religious elite and made friends with the people they hated (Luke 7:34).
He rose from the dead (Matthew 28:6).
Jesus lived the most electric, revolutionary life in history.

So why does following Him sometimes feel like sitting through a committee meeting?

Here’s the truth most churches don’t want to admit: Church is boring when it stops looking like Jesus.

The Early Church Was Anything But Dull

Read the book of Acts. The early church wasn’t a weekly religious event—it was a movement. People sold their stuff to take care of each other. Healings broke out. Prison doors swung open. Thousands came to faith in a day. They gathered daily and couldn’t get enough.

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers… And awe came upon every soul.”
— Acts 2:42–43 (ESV)

Did you see that? It’s about Awe. Not apathy.

Something has gone terribly wrong.

So What’s Making Church Boring?

• Predictable routines. Same songs. Same words or phrases sung ad nauseam Same format. Same surface-level sermons. We do the same thing the same way and often forget why we’re even doing it.
• Performance over participation. People watch, but don’t engage. When you look at it honestly, worship is mostly people observing what one dude does from an elevated platform for about an hour. That’s a performance even if we call it Divine Service.
• Safe topics. We avoid hard questions, real pain, and messy issues. So much of what is taught in churches today is vanilla at best. We tend to tow the party line or blend in with culture. That’s not the way of Jesus by the way.
• Disconnected community. You can attend for months and never be known. When all we do is sit and watch then leave for lunch, we’ve missed the whole point of what God designed worship to look like.

And while churches argue about traditions, people are walking away—because they’re starving for something real. And they’re finding it anywhere but the church!

What Do We Do About It?

It’s time to be done playing church. We need to be the church. That means making some changes:

1. Authentic Worship

No more karaoke-style singing. We want worship that invites the heart, not just the voice. So let’s choose songs with depth, passion, and space for people to connect with God—not just perform for Him.

2. Sermons That Punch

If Jesus confronted culture, challenged religious systems, and offered hope to the hopeless, our preaching should too. We don’t preach to fill 25 minutes—we preach to spark life change.

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword…”
— Hebrews 4:12 (ESV)

3. Participation Over Performance

NO more spectators. We want soldiers. We’re building teams, creating space for stories, and asking people to serve, speak, and show up.

4. Messy Conversations

Life’s not clean, so church shouldn’t pretend to be. It’s ok to talk about addiction, anxiety, doubt, divorce, and purpose—because God meets us in the middle of our mess.

5. Relentless Mission

Church shouldn’t just be a holy huddle. It’s time to get out in the community serving, giving, inviting, and loving people toward Jesus.

Your Move

If church has bored you, I get it. But don’t give up on Jesus because His people got boring. Don’t settle for stale religion when there’s a wildfire kind of faith available.

Here’s what you can do:

• Re-engage. Don’t just attend—join a team, ask questions, show up early, stay late. Try something we call worship + 2. In addition to sitting in worship, join 1 group that allows you to grow in your faith. Then jump onto 1 team to serve and live it out in real time.
• Be honest. Talk to a leader or a pastor. Tell someone what’s missing for you. What about worship feels dull? Maybe there’s a way to meet that need. Maybe there’s a ministry that can be started to move the needle a little.
• Pray dangerous prayers. Ask God to shake things up. He will. If your prayers are things you can make happen, then they’re not prayers! It’s vocalizing your wish list. Pray bold prayers. Experience bold moves of God.
• Invite someone. It’s amazing how church changes when you’re on mission, not just maintenance mode. When you invite someone to join you, you take ownership not just of the church to which you belong but the faith you say you have.

Jesus didn’t die to make church safe.
He died to make people alive.

So let’s build churches that reflect Him—bold, real, powerful, alive.

Jesus isn’t safe.
And the longer we keep trying to make Him safe, the further we get from who He really is.

We’ve created a sanitized version of Jesus—a gentle motivational speaker who sprinkles feel-good wisdom into our week, stays politically neutral, avoids conflict, and mostly wants us to be nice people. That’s Tinker Bell. It’s NOT Jesus!

That Jesus doesn’t exist.
And frankly, if he did He’s not worth following.

The real Jesus flips tables (Matthew 21:12–13).
He calls religious leaders snakes and hypocrites (Matthew 23:33).
He casts demons into pigs (Mark 5:1–13).
He tells rich, successful people to give it all up (Mark 10:21).
He demands total allegiance—even over your own family (Luke 14:26).

The real Jesus is dangerous. Not because He harms, but because He disrupts. He shakes kingdoms, flips power structures, and demands your entire life. He doesn’t ask for your Sunday morning. He wants you.

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

That’s not a self-help plan. That’s a call to die.
To your pride.
To your control.
To your idols.

The Jesus of Scripture walks into storms, not away from them.
He embraces outcasts, welcomes prostitutes, eats with corrupt tax collectors, and calls cowards to become courageous.

When people saw Him coming, they either ran toward Him or plotted to kill Him. No one stayed neutral. That’s how you know you’re meeting the real Jesus—not the sanitized one.

The Safe Jesus Keeps You Comfortable.

The Real Jesus Sets You Free.

The sanitized Jesus is a reflection of us. He never offends. Never challenges. Never transforms. He fits neatly into our political parties, lifestyle choices, and Instagram aesthetic.

But the real Jesus? He doesn’t fit anywhere but the throne.

He’s not your homeboy. He’s not your mascot. He’s not even the man upstairs.
He’s the King of Kings who walked out of a tomb and claimed authority over your story.

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.”
— Matthew 28:18 (ESV)

We keep asking Jesus to bless our plans. He keeps asking us to drop everything and follow Him.

So What Do We Do With a Jesus Like This?

You’ve only got two options.

1. Keep following the sanitized version.
   He’ll let you stay the same. He’ll even keep you safe for a while. But ultimately, he’ll fail you—because he’s just a mirror of your comfort zone.
2. Or follow the real Jesus.
   He’ll stretch you. Challenge you. Lead you into places you never thought you’d go. But you’ll never be alone. And you’ll never be the same.

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
— John 10:10 (ESV)

Ready for the Bold Life?

If you’re tired of safe religion…
If you want more than churchy routines and feel-good platitudes…
If you’re ready to go all-in on the dangerous, beautiful, real Jesus—then now’s the time.

Here’s your move:
Get a Bible. Read the Gospels (I start with John—it’s fast and raw and shows exactly who Jesus is).
Ask Jesus, “What are you calling me to leave behind?”
Then leave it…right there…right then.

Don’t settle for a safe Jesus.
Follow the One who walks on water, calms storms, and calls dead men out of graves. That Jesus is worth everything.

Want more of this bold journey with Jesus? Shoot me a message or come visit us this Sunday. We don’t do sanitized religion—we follow a Savior who changes lives.

Let’s go.

Time for some hard truth and real self assessment.  The Church has gotten comfortable. For too long, we’ve relied on cultural Christianity to do the heavy lifting for us. We built impressive buildings, filled pews with people who knew how to play the church game, and assumed that because our communities had churches on every corner, Jesus was winning the culture war.

But that era is gone. And maybe—even probably—that’s a good thing.

We live in a post-Christian world. Christianity no longer holds the cultural dominance it once did. People aren’t coming to church out of obligation or habit anymore. And let’s be real—many of them don’t see the Church as a beacon of hope but as an outdated institution, riddled with hypocrisy and filled with irrelevance.

So, what now? Do we keep tweaking our programs, hoping that if we make church just a little more attractive, people will magically show up? Do we throw in some coffee bars, trendier worship music, and another round of shallow small groups to keep people entertained? Or do we actually do what Jesus called us to do—make disciples?

Moving Beyond Consumer Christianity

For decades, churches have operated like spiritual vending machines: show up, get your inspirational message, grab a cup of coffee, and get on with your life. We’ve trained people to be religious consumers rather than transformed disciples of Jesus. And now, as culture shifts, those consumers are checking out.

But the mission of the Church was never about drawing crowds; it was about making disciples. It was about sending capacity not seating capacity. Discipleship isn’t about attracting people to a weekly service—it’s about equipping people to live out their faith in a world that no longer assumes Christianity as the default. That means:

• Getting back to relational evangelism. Jesus didn’t build a marketing strategy—He built relationships. We can’t just preach at people; we have to walk with them. And “we” isn’t the pastors – it’s the men and women and children who make up the church.
• Shifting from programs to presence. We don’t need more events; we need more people willing to invest in the messy, real lives of their neighbors. It’s not about calling people out of daily life but embedding ourselves into their everyday routines.
• Making faith an all-week thing. Sunday morning Christianity is dead. The future Church will thrive when believers see themselves as missionaries in their workplaces, schools, and communities every single day. This is what we call the places where they live, work and play.

The Church as a Movement, Not an Institution

When Jesus launched His ministry, He didn’t build a brand. He didn’t craft a strategic plan. He invited people to follow Him, to surrender their lives, and to join a movement that would change the world. The early Church spread like wildfire not because they had great programming but because they had people on fire for Jesus. None of these things are wrong, but if they replace our fire for Christ, then they have to go.

Somewhere along the way, we traded that movement for maintenance. We became more obsessed with keeping people in the seats than sending them out into the world. But the post-Christian era is forcing us to reckon with a truth we should have never forgotten: the Church isn’t a building or a brand—it’s a people, empowered by the Holy Spirit, sent into the world to love, serve, and proclaim the Gospel.

The Future is Missional

The good news? Christianity thrives when it’s in the margins. Historically, the Church has always been at its strongest when it wasn’t the dominant power but the disruptive force of love, truth, and grace in a broken world.

So, let’s stop wringing our hands over declining attendance numbers. Let’s stop measuring success by how many people sit in our pews and start measuring it by how many people are sent into the world, living as bold witnesses for Jesus. Let’s be the kind of Church that doesn’t just ask, “How can we get people in the doors?” but instead asks, “How can we send them out as disciples?”

The world doesn’t need another comfortable, consumer-driven church. It needs a movement of Jesus-followers who refuse to settle, who live out radical love, and who bring the light of Christ into a dark world.

If you’re ready for this kind of life transformation, then welcome to the church. If you want soft, then maybe you should find a day spa.