This might ruffle the feathers of some of the people in the Church I lead, but I need to say it.

“I don’t care what kind of worship music you prefer.”

Every time our Church uses a “hymn” during worship, someone has to run up to a member of the worship team to tell them how much they love the old music. It is exhausting. And let me tell you why.

First, I currently pick most of the worship music with my wife’s help. The first question I ask is, “Does this fit the overall theme of the day?” I select music that ties to the sermon for the day. The communion video is generally curated to serve as a bridge between worship and the sermon topic. Everything is built around a central thought. Sometimes the older songs fit the topic; other times the newer ones do. Whenever a person tells me the sermon inspired them, they rarely connect the music to the stage-setting for everything that was said, even though it all works together.

Second, I do not pick music to please any person. My second question is, “Will this glorify God?” As God listens to our worship of him, will he be pleased with what he hears? Occasionally, I have refused to sing certain songs because they give people bad theology or lead us into wrong thinking about God. Some songs also seem very “man-centered,” and while the theology is good, they do not fit for that day’s worship.

Finally, I have to consider who is playing for worship that week. I do not play music, and I deeply appreciate the people who do. My understanding is that some songs are difficult to play, especially for new members of the worship team. On other Sundays, we do not have someone to play the instrument that makes a song really work well. As a result, certain songs will not work. There is also a consideration of who is singing on the team that week and their vocal range. A group of wonderful volunteers leads us, and we are doing the best we can with what God has given us.

Every week, I am thankful for our volunteers who selflessly lead us in worship. Their willingness to stand up in front takes courage and the power of the Holy Spirit. Instead of telling us what kind of music you prefer, why don’t you express appreciation to the people who give of themselves for our congregation every week?

At the time I am writing this, I am having an ordinary day. I have no special meetings today. There are no appointments for anything. I have not received any emergency calls or texts. Nothing is going on in my life that is out of the ordinary.

Days like this are rare for me.

Perhaps they are for you, too. Maybe your schedule is overflowing, and every day holds a new challenge.

That is why we need to pause on the ordinary days and thank God for them. Sometimes the ordinary is a gift. Things could have been much worse and more hectic.

There are all kinds of reasons to be grateful. Today, I give thanks for nothing.

“Thanks, God, for a day to work quietly and think deeply because they are a rare gift in my world.”  

One question I frequently ask people is, “Would you share your journey of faith that brings you up to this point?”

Frequently, I am greeted with fond stories of childhood attendance in worship, Sunday school, or Vacation Bible School. Then there was a time when they were not a part of a faith community. This usually spans 10 to 30 years of their life.

As they unroll their life of faith, I will usually hear this one phrase: “I was always a believer.” They will tell me how they have continued to believe in God, Jesus, or even the cross.

We must be clear that there is a difference between saying we believe in something and following someone. Believing is about having an idea that we agree with. We agree with the concept that Jesus might have lived. We might even agree with the notion that he died for our sins, and he is how I can get into heaven.

Following is something completely different. It is about believers doing what they were instructed to do. It is about denying our own wants and desires to keep pace with the one leading. It is about our personal lives, adjusting regularly to stay close to the leader. The bottom line is that following is a lifestyle, not just a concept we hold dear.

While I use words like Christian, disciple, believer, and follower of Jesus interchangeably, they do have different meanings. The call is for us to follow Jesus, not just believe he existed. Even the demons believe that and shudder.

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.