Jack was the preacher of my childhood. He taught me about Jesus and baptized me into Christ when I was eight years old. And he terrified me.

He had a commanding voice that held almost everyone’s attention when he preached. But when someone caused a distraction, he stopped mid-sermon and dealt with it on the spot. “Billy, just stay in the back when you’re done in the bathroom. Don’t come back in.” The room would go dead still as everyone’s head turned to find young Billy. No self-respecting kid ever did it twice.

Once, he said something like, “Angie, I’m glad you’re here today, but we have a nursery in the back for your little one.” He called out distractions without hesitation, and after a few years, no one dared cause one, not if they wanted to avoid hearing their name from the pulpit.

My father used to tell me to do the same thing whenever I complained about this issue. I never could. I was too afraid of scaring someone away from Jesus. But after 33 years of preaching, it still gets to me, and I still don’t have a clean answer for it.

It always seems to happen at the worst moment. I’m driving home the point of the sermon, asking for commitment, and someone’s phone goes off in the front row, and they grab it while casually walking out the back. Or I watch every eye in the room drift left as a baby starts giggling, and now the three people around them are making faces. The moment is gone.

Over the years, I’ve picked up a few tricks: moving to the other side of the stage, letting a long pause hang in the air, getting louder, or simply praying internally for divine intervention. None of them is foolproof. Distractions are part of preaching, and I’ve slowly made my peace with that, even when it doesn’t feel peaceful at the time.

Every so often, I write something like this, hoping it nudges people to be a little more mindful of the speaker and the room around them. Most of the time, though, I pray.

I pray that God will quiet the noise. And when he doesn’t, and the phone rings and the baby laughs, and Billy still can’t sit still, I pray that he works through it anyway, that his purpose finds its way through my words regardless of what’s happening in the room. Because the truth is, he always has. That’s the part I keep forgetting, and the part I most need to remember.

While working on a sermon, I found myself wrestling with the imagery and suddenly noticed something striking: the Old Testament is full of mixed metaphors about Jesus.

Jesus is the sacrificial lamb offered on the Day of Atonement. He is the ram whose blood is sprinkled on the mercy seat. He is the scapegoat who carries our sins away. He is the high priest who passes beyond the veil, and yet he is the veil, torn so we can enter the Most Holy Place. He becomes sin itself, so that we might become the righteousness of God.

These images don’t fit neatly together. But that’s the point. No single metaphor is big enough to capture what Jesus did on the cross. So God gave us many, each illuminating a different facet of our salvation.

There are two kinds of overthinking.

One happens before something ever takes place. We run through every possible outcome, every conversation, every worst-case scenario. We try to prepare ourselves for things that may never even happen.

The other kind comes after the moment has already passed. We replay conversations in our minds and wonder what we should have said differently. We question our decisions and worry about what others think of us.

Neither one is very helpful.

There is wisdom in preparing, planning, and learning from our mistakes. Those are good things. But overthinking goes beyond wisdom. It keeps us trapped in fear, anxiety, regret, and exhaustion.

Many times, overthinking is really our attempt to control what only God can handle. We want certainty about the future and reassurance about the past, but neither can be achieved through endless thoughts.

At some point, we have to trust God enough to move forward. The future is in His hands, and so is our past. His grace is greater than our mistakes, and His presence is already waiting for us in whatever comes next.

Sometimes the healthiest thing we can do is pray, take the next step in faith, and stop carrying conversations and scenarios God never asked us to hold onto.

One of the concepts that has gripped me lately (and found its way into several sermons) is the idea that sin rarely destroys today. Instead, it will ruin tomorrow.

Whenever we step out of God’s plan and will for our lives, the repercussions often do not surface for years. Sin is enjoyable, but only for a short time. Eventually, the consequences catch up to us. Disobeying God may not hurt today, but in the future, we will come to regret it.

Walking with God is not about immediate gratification; it is about our long-term happiness.

Who or what are you praying for this week?

Through years of trial and error, I discovered a few things about myself. I know that if I tell someone on Sunday, “I will pray for you,” I rarely have the follow-through I desire. And if I did start praying, I would feel guilty if I stopped at any time during the week.

The solution to this issue was fairly simple, even though it took me a while to see it. On Sunday, I will now tell people one of three things. First, I will say, “I will pray for you today.” Then I try to slip away and pray right then. Second, I respond with, “I will pray for you sometime this week.” Then I make a note on my phone or on a piece of paper, and I make sure to talk to God about their issue at least once. Third, I will tell them, “I will pray for you for this week.” Then I put their request down and pray about it every morning for seven days.

Adopting this method has helped me in several ways. Immediate needs are addressed quickly. Areas of concern are lifted up when needed. Like I pray on Tuesday about a surgery performed that day. Finally, ongoing issues are presented before God with a start and an end date. That way, I do not feel guilty when I stop praying.

Most weeks, I end Sunday with 3-5 things to pray for that week. The final step is to write them on a post-it note near my desk, where I will be praying, or to keep a list on my phone for easy access.

Prayer is a conversation between you and God, but it helps when you know what you would like to talk about.

How you sing praise and worship songs on Sunday morning reveals something about your heart.

When someone falls in love for the first time, every love song they’ve ever heard suddenly makes sense. The same thing happens when a person fully surrenders to Jesus. Those lyrics they once sang out of habit, or barely sang at all, come alive. Gratitude becomes too overwhelming to stay silent. Worship stops being something you observe and becomes something you can’t contain.

That’s why some people stand with their arms crossed, watching the stage. It’s not about their voice, because God has never once asked for a beautiful one. What’s on display is the condition of their soul. Disconnection from the words being sung is often a symptom of disconnection from the One the words are about.

This Sunday, while you’re standing in that room, ask yourself an honest question: Do the words coming out of my mouth actually reflect what’s happening in my heart?

You probably already know the answer. Everyone else will know by how loud you’re willing to sing and what your face looks like when you do.

I was listening to a podcast about ministry. The speaker said, “We have to find a way to do ministry that is sustainable.” Immediately, I knew what he meant. People feel this after running at full speed for too long. They have been saying yes to everything, carrying every burden, trying to fix every problem, and eventually, they hit the wall.

The truth is, even good things can become unhealthy when we try to live beyond the limits God designed for us. Ministry is good. Serving people is good. Being available is good. But if our walk with Jesus is built only on pressure and activity, burnout is not far behind.

We need sustainable practices in our walk with Jesus. We need regular prayer, not occasional desperation prayers when everything falls apart. We need steady time in Scripture, not random moments when we feel guilty enough to open the Bible. We need rest, worship, fellowship, and rhythms that keep our hearts near Christ.

A fire burns brightest when it has a steady supply of fuel. Without it, eventually the flames die down. The same is true spiritually.

Some people burn out because they try to live on yesterday’s strength while carrying today’s burdens. God never asked us to do that. He gives daily bread, daily grace, and daily strength.

Doing everything is not sustainable. Walking with Jesus is.

She is a Church member whom I have known for 12 full years. The other day, she finally let the walls come down and told the truth about her feelings. It was this incredibly liberating moment as she let her true emotions come out in her words, not caring what I might say or do.

People are naturally inclined to hide their true thoughts so as not to offend anyone, especially those they do not know well. We create a façade so that others do not see the ugliness behind our eyes. There are walls we keep up, and we rarely let them come down for fear of judgment.

Whenever you get close enough to someone that they finally let their walls down, it is a breakthrough moment in a relationship. We can stop pretending to be something we are not and let our true selves out into the world.

What is interesting is that, for the first time in 12 years, it felt like we were having a real conversation. It was not an exchange of curated niceness meant to keep me happy. But sadly, it took that long for this person to trust me enough to let their guard down.

As Christians, one temptation is to keep up the walls and never let anyone in. Real relationships are born when we let them down and let others in to truly know us and our feelings.

Sure, it is risky, and you could get hurt. But it is better than living in a bunker built by our own fear.

The message of Jesus is good news. That is a simple truth worth remembering today.

Christianity is not merely good advice about how to live your life better.

It is not just a collection of good sayings about loving people.

It is not a set of good opinions or ideas about God.

The Gospel is the announcement of what Jesus Christ has done.

Jesus came into the world, lived without sin, died for our sins, rose again in victory, and ascended as Lord. The foundation of our faith is not built on human wisdom or religious effort. It is built on Jesus Christ and what He has accomplished for us.

That is the good news.

Who are they? What do they believe? What values are they reinforcing?

What books, novels, magazines, articles, and blogs are you reading?

What sermons, lessons, radio, and podcasts are you listening to?

What movies, TV shows, video lessons, and reels are you watching?

How much time do you spend on these compared to the things of God?

All these influence your thinking. Many times, they are shaping your thoughts more than the amount of Bible you read and the sermons you listen to each week.

If I took all the information and entertainment that was poured into your mind, heart, and soul this week, what conclusions could I develop about you? Would I see that you are walking in the way of Jesus?

Your thoughts come from somewhere, and someone, so you have to ask, “Is that someone I want to become?” because their voice is shaping your life.