I know that title might have caused some of you to quit reading already. However, I NEED to write this so that everyone thinks clearly about it.

Your favorite nonprofit organization is feeling the impact of the changing economy just like you are personally. Inflation affects everyone and everything. This might be your favorite charity, ministry, mission, or Church community.

Let me give you one example. Insurance costs might just be the thing that kills the group you love the most. In the Church I lead, costs for insurance have tripled in the last five years, and we had to search to ensure we were getting the best deal. We recognize that there is a high likelihood that costs will increase significantly again next year and potentially every year into the foreseeable future. The rising costs of materials and labor, along with the hurricanes, floods, and fires, are driving prices through the roof. On one of my online minister’s groups, almost weekly, someone asks about insurance because it is killing their Church.

The same applies to utility costs, supply costs, repairs, staff, and other expenses. The rise in living costs also affects the price of ministry. That means the $50 you gave each month in 2020 has about half the impact it did.

For the Church I lead, we are trying to adjust our spending, but we can’t keep up with the rising costs despite having some generous givers. I am aware that other groups and organizations are struggling, and the future appears bleak. As the average Christian, you need to be mindful that this is going on behind the scenes with every Christian group you know.

I was flipping through an old notebook for blog ideas. In one of my notes, I described an automobile accident that left one person dead. The reason I put that little comment in my book was because I knew the family.

Now that several years have passed, I can see things with greater clarity. There was a wife left behind who completely changed her appearance, as well as her friends and overall lifestyle (and I am not sure if it was for the better). There were two kids left behind as well. The girl grew up without a father, and as a result, she was left searching for male attention. The boy was missing the role model he desperately needed, which led to numerous poor decisions. His mom and dad were never the same; bitter and hurting are the appropriate words. His friends and community felt a hole in their lives from all that they had lost.

In total, I would guess that the loss of this one life resulted in a complete redirection of five lives, along with having a long-term impact on another ten.

Why do I tell you this story? Because there will be days in your life where you feel like you are not significant. You may think you are not making a difference to anyone. You might feel like you are less than important, and no one would care if you were absent from their lives.

I want you to know it is simply not true.

There is a group of people close to you whose lives would be completely changed for the worse if you were not a part of it. They would be different people without you. Your life matters. Sure, it might only be to a handful of people, but to those who care about you, you are irreplaceable.

Two small gardens sit behind our house, tucked into the corners of our patio design. For years, my wife and I filled them with practical things like radishes, onions, carrots, peppers, and tomatoes. This year, we decided to try something different. Instead of vegetables, we scattered four little bags of wildflower seeds across the soil.

My wife planted them when it first got warm about two months, or eight weeks, or 56 days ago. Last night, I looked out, and both gardens were filled with plants, but not a single flower. A few buds are starting to form, hinting at what’s coming, but we’re still at least two weeks away from our first blooms.

Working for God feels a lot like gardening. We prepare the ground, plant seeds, pull weeds, and water when needed. And then we wait. We can’t force anyone to follow Jesus or rush someone into spiritual maturity. All we can do is plant seeds of faith, tend them carefully, and create the best possible environment for growth.

I know those flowers will bloom eventually. Our back porch will become the beautiful space we envisioned. I can’t tell you exactly when, but I live with the confidence that it will happen.

I also know that some of the people our church is walking alongside will one day choose to follow Jesus and become everything God created them to be. And I sure hope I get to see it when they do. I know it will be a thing of beauty to behold.

To inspire people to act in accordance with God’s word?

That is a legitimate question that plagues me every week.

The story is set in the Old West. A new preacher went to a town renowned for its logging industry. As he walked around town, he saw something troubling. Logs were coming down the river headed to the mill with the stamp on the end of who should get the money. The locals would grab the logs out of the river, cut the existing brand off the end, and then rebrand them again so that they would get credit.

The preacher wrote and delivered a sermon that week on “Loving your neighbor as yourself.” His congregation told him, “Nice sermon,” but that week, they continued in their dishonest practice. The following week, he was bolder and preached, “Thou shalt not steal.” Again, the response was positive, but no one stopped their practice of taking logs. In the third week, he delivered a sermon entitled, “Don’t cut the end off logs that don’t belong to you.”

I get his frustration. Last week, I preached about following God’s will for your life. As I looked around the room, some people need to be baptized, others who need to stop drinking alcohol to excess, some who need to serve, and still others who need to get married and stop cohabitating. While people told me they enjoyed the sermon, no one appears to have taken any action as a result.

I am glad you enjoyed listening to the sermon, but the actual test of my work is not your approval but rather your transformation into Christlikeness.

As a follower of Jesus, I encourage you to listen to a wide variety of teachers.

I do not recommend this if you are new to faith. If you are a new believer, ground yourself in the Bible and some solid Biblical teaching.

When you have established a firm foundation of faith, it is beneficial to hear the thoughts and opinions of a diverse range of voices. Listen to people who view things very differently than you do, along with people that you totally agree with. Watch videos being created by young Christians, along with those of senior saints sharing their wisdom. Listen to a podcast from someone who is liberal and another from a conservative.

This approach to learning will do several things. First, it will help you to solidify what you believe and why. Second, it will help you to understand the arguments of people with differing views. Third, it will open your mind to ideas that occasionally will be helpful. Ultimately, it will make people with opposing convictions real, rather than straw men found only in books.

I could illustrate each one of these lessons from my own life, from why I take an Arminian approach to faith (and not Calvinistic), how I handle people with same-sex attraction, and how a Pentecostal man helped me to pray. 

Every time I listen to someone outside “my comfort zone,” I am forced to process ideas and viewpoints through a Biblical lens as a follower of Jesus. Whenever I feel I am becoming stagnant in my faith, I seek out a resource from a differing perspective, and it helps me think actively about my beliefs in a new and fresh way.  

Passion has its place in faith, but I’ve come to understand the distinction between authentic spiritual depth and being overly dramatic.

Do you know what I’m talking about? Some believers can transform every minor challenge into a biblical epic, every small blessing into a miraculous intervention, and every prayer into a high-stakes emergency. We’ve all been there at some point.

For years, I believed that intense emotions equaled strong faith. As a pastor, I measured success by the tears shed during worship and the life-changing revelations that occurred during sermons. When the people I served didn’t have dramatic testimonies, I questioned my effectiveness.

Then, I noticed something about Jesus: His approach was remarkably understated. While He certainly experienced righteous anger and profound emotion, His everyday ministry was characterized by quiet assurance, patient teaching, and uncomplicated love. His ministry was marked by simplicity and modesty, without fanfare or spectacle.

Authentic faith doesn’t require a soundtrack or stage lighting. The most meaningful spiritual encounters often unfold in life’s mundane moments, where we choose patience when we are exhausted, extend forgiveness privately, and serve without seeking acknowledgment. These instances may not generate social media content, but they’re where Christ’s presence becomes most evident.

Faith resembles a steady candle more than a fireworks display. Both serve their purpose, but one provides consistent light while the other offers brief entertainment. God doesn’t require us to perform our beliefs like a theatrical production. He simply calls us to live them.

Sometimes, the most powerful testimony is simply showing up, loving well, and trusting quietly. While drama may capture attention, it’s in the authentic practice of faith through ordinary days that genuine transformation occurs.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines petulance as “the quality of being easily annoyed and complaining rudely like a child.” It’s that sharp irritability that flares when life doesn’t bend to our expectations. When someone derails our carefully laid plans. When a colleague receives the recognition we believe should be ours. When God’s response to our prayers doesn’t match what we had in mind. So we lash out, simmer in resentment, pull away, or sulk.

Petulance is pride in disguise. It says, “I deserve better.” It insists, “Things should go my way.” It whispers, “My will should be done.” And that is where it clashes violently with the gospel.

Paul writes, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others more significant than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3). Petulance can’t live in the same heart where Christ reigns. His Spirit produces patience, gentleness, and self-control – No petty moodiness. No sulking. No bitterness. No entitled spirit.

Petulance may seem like a minor sin, but it’s too destructive to overlook. It sabotages our ability to love deeply, live with joy, and walk in humility. As we mature in Christ, our hearts must shed these childish patterns of behavior. When God truly transforms us, it shows, even in our disposition.

I expected more from Pastors, Church leaders, and all Christians. I expected so much more from them. I expected them to be more encouraging, more loving, more caring, more focused on others, and more like Jesus.

It is so disappointing. Especially when that Pastor, Church leader, and Christian is me. So often, the most disappointing person I know is the one that I see in the mirror each day. I never seem to live up to my own expectations.

The one individual I know who needs the most grace and forgiveness is myself. God’s mercy and kindness are not just something I preach to others; they are something I need every day, too.

In my various Christian Facebook groups, I’ve noticed a heartbreaking pattern: meaningful conversations quickly turn into harsh criticism of fellow believers. Someone shares a perspective, and others immediately label them as heretical, shallow, or theologically misguided. The comment sections have become so consistently mean-spirited that I avoid reading them entirely.

Many Christians seem to find satisfaction in playing the role of theological watchdog, feeling morally obligated to correct every perceived error. But what if we chose a different path?

Imagine the transformation that could occur if we intentionally chose encouragement over criticism, joy over judgment, and support over suspicion. What if we looked for the good in others rather than hunting for their flaws?

Here’s my challenge: For the next seven days, commit to seeing the best in your fellow Christians. When someone shares something you might normally critique, pause and look for the heart behind their words. Ask yourself how God might be working through that person rather than how they might be wrong.

The truth is no one has ever criticized me into being a better follower of Jesus. But countless believers have encouraged me toward growth through their kindness and grace.

Let’s be Christians who build up rather than tear down, who extend grace rather than judgment.

This past Sunday, I had an experience that, unfortunately, happens about once a year: I was sick and still needed to preach. This time, it started with my sinus’ draining, then moved into my throat, and finally into my chest. By Saturday night, I had started coughing and was having a hard time stopping. At this point, especially in a Church the size of the one I lead, there is no backup plan or other option. I need to speak if we are going to have a sermon.

I woke up on Sunday and took three different medicines. I figured it would handle all my issues and keep me going for a few hours. I also had cough drops in my pocket and used one of them immediately before our first program. Still, when I stood up to preach, I was only about ten minutes in when the coughing began. For about five minutes (what seemed like an eternity to me), I stood on stage and coughed when I was trying to preach. The irony wasn’t lost on me: here I was, trying to speak about divine power while my own human frailty was on full, embarrassing display.

There are several points to consider regarding this situation as a preacher. One, I tried everything possible to prevent it. Two, I HATE that it happened. We had a couple of guest families, and I feel terrible that this was their first experience at our Church. I apologize to anyone who had to listen to it. Finally, I had no issues during the second worship program. My voice was a little strained and deeper than usual, but there was no coughing fit to interrupt the sermon.

Paul tells the Church in Corinth that his preaching was not with wise or persuasive words but a demonstration of the Spirit’s power (1 Cor. 2:4). Well, I am not Paul, and I do not use wise words either, but I do occasionally add a lot of coughing. If anyone received something meaningful from that first sermon, it stands as testimony to God’s ability to work through even the most compromised vessels.

Perhaps these moments of physical weakness serve a greater purpose than I initially realized. They strip away any illusion that effective ministry depends on my performance, my preparation, or my pulpit presence. Instead, they point to a more profound truth: every week, regardless of my health, it’s the Holy Spirit who transforms simple words into life-changing encounters with the divine. Sometimes, it just takes a coughing fit to remind me of that reality.