Life has a way of throwing us curveballs. Challenges pile up, situations feel hopeless, and the weight of it all can seem unbearable. It’s tempting to believe that what we’re facing right now will never change—that the pain, confusion, or frustration is here to stay. In moments like these, it’s easy to think about drastic solutions to problems that feel insurmountable. But I can promise you this: no matter how dark it feels, there is light ahead. Never make a permanent decision based on a temporary situation.
When life feels overwhelming, it’s hard to think clearly. Emotions cloud your mind and convince you that no one cares, no one is watching out for you, and no one understands. But let me assure you—someone does.
In John 10, Jesus calls Himself the Good Shepherd. He says, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me” (John 10:14). This isn’t just a poetic metaphor. It’s a powerful truth. A shepherd’s job isn’t easy; it involves getting messy, walking through valleys, and being present in the middle of chaos. But the Good Shepherd never abandons His sheep. He knows each one by name. He knows their struggles. He knows their fears. He knows every one of their wounds. And He leads them with care.
You are not forgotten. Even when it feels like you’re lost in the chaos of life, Jesus knows exactly where you are. He’s walking with you, even when you can’t see Him. He’s working for your good, even when you don’t feel it. He knows the way out of every valley, no matter how deep – no matter how thick.
But Jesus doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t just watch over you from some far away place of safety; He calls others to join Him in caring for you. There are people in your life—family, friends, mentors, your church family, and even strangers—who care deeply about you. Sometimes, the hardest part is letting them know what you’re going through. That vulnerability can be scary, but it’s the key to experiencing the love and support that is already around you.
Problems, no matter how large they feel, are never permanent. Seasons change. Circumstances evolve. Healing happens. God’s promises remain true: “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). The night might be the longest night of your life, but morning is always on the horizon – always.
If you’re carrying a burden today, remember this: You are seen. You are known. You are loved. The Good Shepherd has not forgotten you, and He never will. He’s calling your name and inviting you to trust Him, even in the darkest valley. And He’s placed people around you who want to walk with you, support you, and remind you that there’s always hope.
Dear friends take heart. The mess of life is temporary, but the love of the Good Shepherd is eternal. Please – never make a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
We hear it everywhere: “Love wins.” It’s on T-shirts, social media, and bumper stickers. It’s a feel-good phrase, right? Just love each other, and everything will magically work out. But here’s the harsh reality: our love alone doesn’t win a thing.
Our love is conditional, selfish, and pretty pathetic. It gets tired. It gets offended. We say we’ll love unconditionally, but the second someone hurts us, or something doesn’t go our way, that so-called “unconditional” love suddenly has a lot of conditions. We fall in love as easily as we fall out of it, and we struggle to love people who challenge us. So, let’s cut the crap: if love depends on us to “win,” we’re doomed.
But here’s the twist that changes everything: Jesus’ love. Now, that love? That’s the love that wins. It’s not some mushy, feel-good sentiment. It’s radical, all-consuming, and completely unselfish. It’s a love that didn’t just say nice things but laid itself on the line—literally. Jesus gave up everything. He didn’t just love us when it was easy; He loved us when we nailed Him to a cross. His love didn’t give up when it got hard; His love didn’t turn away even when we turned away from Him. He didn’t stop loving when we lied. He kept on loving even in spite of our harsh words and unkind actions. Jesus’ love won in the only way that matters.
Think about it: Jesus’ love goes deeper than a smile or a kind word. Our love for a significant other is pathetic compared to this crazy, radical love. His love stared sin, death, and hell in the face—and it won. Our own efforts to love can’t even touch that. No amount of human effort or good intentions could win the fight against sin. We couldn’t love ourselves into God’s good graces. That’s why Jesus was essential. He did what we couldn’t do, no matter how much we loved.
When people say “love wins,” they’re often thinking of human love fixing things. They’re hoping that if we just love hard enough, the world’s problems will melt away. But here’s the cold, hard truth: without Jesus’ victory, our love accomplishes very little. Our love doesn’t heal hearts or change souls. It doesn’t break chains of sin or death. Jesus’ love does. He won that battle on the cross—one that our love couldn’t even enter.
So, what does that mean for us? Should we just stop trying to love others? Absolutely not. Jesus’ love calls us to love, but it also tells us to recognize our limits. Our love matters, but it’s not the foundation. It’s not the thing that holds eternity in place. That role belongs to Jesus’ love alone. We love others because He first loved us, but let’s not confuse the order here. We’re not the heroes of this story; we’re the ones who needed saving. Our love is the grateful response, not the game-changer.
So, next time you see “Love Wins,” take a moment to think about who made that possible. Let it remind you of the power, depth, and sacrifice of Jesus’ love, the only love that truly won. Without Him, our love is merely a shadow. With Him, our love has purpose.
James 2:10 says, “For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it.” In the words of a friend from my small group “Now, that kind of sucks, doesn’t it?” Imagine working hard all week to keep your room clean, finish your homework, and stay on top of everything, only to fail by not taking out the trash. According to this, your whole week is ruined, shot, a total failure, like it was all for nothing.
That’s the image we get of how the law works from this verse. We can strive to keep it perfectly, and honestly we can be rocking it for a good little bit. But if we break just one small part, we’re guilty of breaking the whole thing. That means if you’ve done a bang up job following Jesus. I mean reading the Bible, going to church, giving that perfect tithe off your income, keeping your language clean, discipling a group from work. Then your child leaves a lego on the floor in the living room, and you get up early in the morning. Yeah you know where this is going. You stop on that little grenade of pain buried in your carpet. The pain shoots through your body like a jolt of electricity, and a phrase of what we’ll call colorful language comes bursting from your lips like Niagara Falls.
Yep the whole deal is down the tubes. One little lego ruined your streak of perfection and now it’s all over.
Another way to look at it is to think of it like a chain. Each commandment is a link, and together, they form a strong chain. But break just one link, and the entire chain is useless. Whether you lie, steal, hate, or gossip, by breaking that one command you’ve broken the whole law completely.
The truth is, we will never be able to fully obey all of the law. We try to be good, to do what’s right, to keep things as neat and tidy as we possibly can, but we mess up. It’s just that simple. Even when we’re doing our best, we slip. And in God’s eyes, stumbling once is enough to declare us guilty of all of it. It’s an all or nothing kind of thing, if you let the law be in the driver seat.
As impossible as this all sounds, there is some hope. Here’s the good news: that lego grenade is exactly why Jesus came. He knew you’d step on it and blow your stride of perfection. He knew we couldn’t fulfill the law on our own, so He did it for us.
The Bible tells us that Jesus lived his life perfectly. That means he didn’t sin. He didn’t cuss when he stepped on his little brother’s lego. He didn’t fly off the handle when Mary told Him to clean His room. Being a carpenter’s son, He didn’t fly off in a fit of rage when He measured once and had to cut three times. He did it all perfectly. And His perfection covers our imperfection. His sacrifice wipes out our failures. We don’t have to live in fear of breaking the law anymore because His grace is greater than our flaws.
True, it’s impossible to keep the law perfectly. And yeah, that kind of sucks. But because of Jesus, we’re not stuck in the suck of failure—we’re set free in grace.
If your faith only shows up on Sunday, then you’re missing the whole point. Christianity isn’t a “Sunday-only” deal. It’s not about showing up for an hour of worship, saying all the right things, and then living the other six days of the week on autopilot. True discipleship means intentionally following Jesus 24/7—living your life as if you actually believe what you say you believe. It’s about letting your faith shape every part of your life, not just your church life.
So, here’s the hard truth: discipleship doesn’t stop when the benediction is over. In fact, that’s when it really begins. Discipleship is about aligning your life with Jesus, not just in words but in action, day in and day out. It’s about living with purpose, prioritizing people, and sharing the love of Christ in real, tangible ways.
Ready to go beyond Sunday? Here are three practical ways to live out discipleship in your everyday life.
1. Show Up for People
Discipleship isn’t just about Bible studies and prayer groups. It’s about bringing Christ’s love into every setting. You know all those places where you live, work, and play. Contrary to popular belief: you don’t have to preach sermons to share Jesus (actually please don’t!), but you can live in a way that makes people wonder, What’s different about them? Make it your goal to show up for people with empathy, integrity, and respect. Don’t just say you care – actually care! When a coworker’s struggling, don’t brush it off—take the time to listen. Offer a word of encouragement. Ask how you can help.
Start each day with a prayer asking God to help you see your coworkers and neighbors through Jesus’ eyes. When they feel genuinely valued and cared for, you’re living out discipleship in a way that speaks louder than words. This is kingdom work in the everyday grind.
2. Turn Your Home into a Faith Training Ground
Family life is messy and busy, but it’s also the perfect training ground for discipleship. If you’re a parent, don’t let faith only show up in mealtime prayers, as if you need help not choking on your food. Talk about God openly and naturally with your kids. Share stories of how you’ve seen God work in your life, in big and small ways. Ask them what they think about God, what questions they have, and how they’d like to pray.
If you live with friends or roommates, this applies to you too—make room for open conversations about faith, accountability, and growth. Choose one night a week to read a short Bible passage together and discuss it over dinner. Make your home a place where talking about Jesus is natural, not forced or weird.
3. Post with Purpose
Let’s face it, social media is where many of us spend far too much time. And for a good number of us, it’s a breeding ground for comparison, anger, and divisiveness. But here’s a radical idea: what if you treated your online presence as part of your discipleship? This doesn’t mean you need to start plastering Bible verses on every post, but it does mean using your influence wisely. Before you post, ask yourself: Does this bring people closer to God or push them away?
I’d recommend this approach to text messages and emails as well because I’ve been on the receiving end of some less than God honoring emails and texts in my life.
A good practice is to share content that reflects the hope, peace, and love you find in Jesus. Engage in conversations that are meaningful rather than mindless. Be intentional about the way you represent yourself online, and let your social media reflect the faith you live out every day.
And don’t have hard conversations over any form of media. Challenging topics should always be covered face to face when at all possible. And if face to face can’t happen, a phone call is the next best option. You’re not going to win someone over through a text, email or social media conversation.
True discipleship means living your faith boldly every day, not just in a pew on Sunday. When you start seeing every part of your life—work, family, even social media—as an opportunity to follow Jesus, you’ll find that discipleship isn’t just a “church thing.” It’s a life thing. So, take the next step. Don’t let your faith be a Sunday-only affair. Let it shape who you are every single day.
One of the most critical responsibilities of a leader is preparing for the day when he or she is no longer in charge. But all too often in the church world we avoid this like the plague. Maybe it’s pride? Maybe it’s fear of being replaced, or perhaps it’s a lack of trust in others. Whatever the reason, leaders who don’t plan for succession set their ministry up for failure.
It’s really no secret, no one stays in leadership forever. Whether it’s due to retirement, illness, burnout, or simply moving on, a leadership transition is inevitable. Yet, too many leaders behave as if they’ll be in the driver’s seat forever. This mentality is not only unwise, it’s selfish. Refusing to prepare for the next leader is a surefire way to see the ministry crumble when you’re no longer around.
Jesus even modeled succession. He spent years pouring into His disciples, teaching them, empowering them, and preparing them to carry on the mission once He was gone. He didn’t just hope they would figure it outon their own. He invested in them so the ministry could thrive. He gave them authority and then released them to lead.
The harsh truth: If you’re not preparing your successor, you’re building your ministry on your own ego, not the Gospel. And that’s a recipe for disaster.
Succession Is About the Future, Not Your Legacy
Many leaders get so caught up in their own legacy that they forget leadership isn’t about them—it’s about the mission. If your leadership crumbles the moment you’re gone, you weren’t building His Kingdom. You were building a monument to yourself. Succession is about ensuring the ministry continues to grow and thrive long after you’re no longer in the picture.
The church’s mission doesn’t end when you do. It’s much bigger than any one person, and we should be leading in a way that reflects that truth.
Succession planning isn’t just about finding the next person to fill your seat. It’s about building up leaders who can take the ministry further than you ever could. Your job as a leader is to invest in people, not just in programs or systems. When you pour into others, you’re ensuring the next generation of leaders is stronger and more prepared than you were.
This requires intentionality. It means mentoring younger leaders, giving them real responsibility, and letting them make mistakes. Too often, leaders hesitate to share authority because they’re afraid the next generation will mess things up or won’t do it the way we prefer it to be done. Newsflash: they will do it differently and they will mess things up. And that’s okay. Growth happens through failure. Your job is to guide them through it, not protect them from it.
Many leaders wait until they’re burned out or ready to retire before thinking about succession. By then, it’s too late to effectively pass the baton. A sudden leadership vacuum can lead to disarray, division, and even collapse.
Start early. Start now. Begin investing in future leaders long before you’re ready to leave. Succession planning should be part of your ongoing leadership strategy, not an afterthought.
In the end, leadership is about stewardship. You’re holding a position temporarily. Your job is to steward it well and then pass it on to someone else who can run with it. If you’re not preparing for that, you’re missing the mark. Let go of your pride, and start raising up the next generation of leaders today.
It’s time to face an uncomfortable truth: someone else’s win doesn’t mean you’re losing. We’ve all felt it—the sting of jealousy when a friend gets a promotion, the bitterness when someone achieves something for which we’re still praying. It’s easy to think, “Why not me?” That thought right there? It’s toxic. It’s what’s called scarcity mindset creeping in, whispering lies that there isn’t enough for everyone.
But that’s a load of garbage!
God is not running out of blessings. His abundance is limitless. Stop acting like His blessings are on backorder just because someone else’s life is flourishing. When you see others succeed, your gut reaction shouldn’t be to shrink in self-pity. Instead, throw them a fist bump, celebrate, and trust that God is still in control. If God’s doing amazing things for them, He’s in the neighborhood—your blessing might be just around the corner.
Scarcity tells you that someone else’s success means less for you. It says there’s only so much to go around, and if they get it, you’re stuck with scraps at best. But the Bible blows that lie out of the water. Philippians 4:19 tells us, “My God will meet all your needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus.” There’s no cap on God’s goodness.
When we cling to a scarcity mindset, we lose sight of what we actually have. We get so caught up in envy, we forget about the resources, talents, and opportunities already in our hands. God has uniquely equipped YOU to fulfill His purpose for your life. So why are you wasting time comparing your journey to someone else’s?
Here’s the truth: someone else’s blessing doesn’t put you in a drought. We need to reprogram our thinking. You can celebrate others and still pray for your own breakthrough. God’s grace isn’t a pie with limited slices—it’s endless. If we stop grasping for what others have and start thanking God for His provision, we’ll realize how much He’s already given us.
So the next time someone around you wins, drop the scarcity mindset. Cheer them on, and while you’re at it, pray with faith that God’s going to keep showing up for you, too. Then take a second to give thanks for the things you do have in life. We all have something for which we can give thanks. Recognizing blessings is a sure fire way to see that you have more than you thought.
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.
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.
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.
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.
