Occasionally, as a child, I would run into the room where all the adults were sitting to ask a question. Then I would begin to ramble on about some meaningless thoughts of a child, and my parents would stop me and say, “The adults are talking.”

That was my cue to leave the room because they were discussing things that didn’t concern me. More than once, I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation from the other room and realized I had no idea what they were talking about. They would converse about doctor’s visits and diagnoses, retirement, paying bills, and who was getting a d-i-v-o-r-c-e.

Some topics require a level of maturity to care about, discuss, or even understand.

Scripture consistently calls believers toward spiritual maturity. Paul writes about reaching “the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13). At the same time, the author of Hebrews distinguishes between spiritual “milk” for new believers and “solid food” for the mature (Hebrews 5:14). James reminds us that perseverance develops maturity, making us “complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:4).

This progression isn’t about intelligence or natural ability; instead, it’s about spiritual formation over time. Just as a child cannot fully grasp the weight of adult responsibilities, newer believers may not yet have the spiritual foundation to engage deeply with complex theological concepts or challenging life applications of faith.

I’ve been privileged to participate in conversations that have profoundly shaped my understanding of God and His ways. These discussions about suffering and sovereignty, grace and justice, or faith and doubt, require not just biblical knowledge but spiritual maturity cultivated through experience and reflection.

Sometimes, when someone joins these conversations without the necessary spiritual groundwork, I find myself wishing I could lovingly say what my parents once told me: “The adults are talking.”

This principle feels especially relevant when we engage with people on social media as well.  

While studying the Ten Commandments in preparation for a recent sermon, I discovered something that had previously escaped my notice. The ratio was striking: eight commandments tell us what not to do, while only two, observing the Sabbath and honoring our parents, give us positive actions to take.

This imbalance isn’t accidental. God understands our human nature intimately. He knows we’re naturally drawn toward choices that conflict with His purposes for our lives. The apostle Paul referred to this tendency as “the flesh.” There are those bodily impulses and desires that often pull us away from God’s best.

Living as a Christian involves both action and restraint. Yes, we’re called to bear good fruit, as Jesus taught when He said we can recognize a tree by its fruit. Our faith should manifest itself in visible acts of love toward God and others.

But there’s another side to this spiritual equation that deserves equal attention: the things we choose not to do because of our commitment to God. These aren’t just arbitrary restrictions, but they’re evidence of a transformed heart that has new priorities and values.

This dual nature of faith raises two essential questions every believer should regularly consider:
“What positive fruit is my life producing?” and “What behaviors is my faith preventing me from pursuing?”

Both questions matter. Together, they paint a complete picture of what it means to follow Jesus.

If you genuinely desire to do something for Jesus, you will find a way.

Through the years, I have known men who wanted to preach. They were unable to lead a church full-time, so they would spend nights and weekends at mission houses, nursing homes, and any other location that would allow them to speak. I have known people who wanted to play music for the Lord. They would form bands, volunteer at their Church, and look for any open opportunity to play and sing. There have been people who want to write for Jesus. They have created blogs, written for magazines, published e-books to share, and even self-published printed books.

If you genuinely want to do something for the sake of the Kingdom of God, there is nothing that can stop you. You will find a way.

If you don’t want to do anything, you will find an excuse. And that will be the end of it.

“Going the extra mile” has become an expression used to describe anyone willing to do more than what is expected of them. It is based on Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, where he instructs his followers on how to treat evil and angry people. They will turn the other cheek, and hand over the coat off their back. Then, when they are forced to go one mile, they will gladly walk two (Matthew 5:41).

This appears to be a reference to a military practice of the day. Officers serving Rome were allowed to commandeer a person to help them carry their pack as they traveled. They could force anyone to help them for up to a mile. The Jewish people hated this law as it showed their subjugation to Rome. Jesus tells us followers to “go above and beyond” the legal requirements and go an extra mile.

For Jesus, we are to serve others in ways that go beyond the law and often the realms of acceptable practice. And his followers today must understand this more than a historical phrase. It means Christians are to be people who consistently go above and beyond expectations in their actions, today and every day.  

Sweeping the floors, picking up trash, emptying full trash cans, and removing them would be one example. Moving furniture and helping someone relocate items are other examples. Assisting a person in maintaining their house or yard can be helpful. Offering a ride and being willing to pay for the gas without complaint might be another way to serve.

I could list dozens of ideas here, but you get the picture. Jesus’ followers are people who “go the extra mile” even when no literal miles are involved.

We all love the idea of being the hero. We want to be the one who swoops in with a kind word, a helping hand, or a shoulder to cry on. As followers of Jesus, our hearts are drawn toward compassion. Scripture calls us to “bear one another’s burdens,” and so we often step into the lives of people who seem to be hurting or struggling.

That is good and right. But here’s something we often overlook: when you step in to “stand with” someone, you may, without realizing it, be “standing against” someone else. Your support can unintentionally cast another person as the villain in the story.

It happens in marriages when a friend takes sides. It often occurs in church conflicts when one person’s pain is attributed to the fault of another person. It happens in families when comfort for one child feels like criticism of the other.

Jesus calls us to be peacemakers, not just rescuers. Sometimes being a true friend means listening to the whole story before taking a side. It means offering comfort without feeding resentment. It means encouraging reconciliation rather than deepening the divide.

The hero of the Christian life is never us—it’s Jesus. Our role is not to be the savior, but to point people to the Savior. And when we do that, we avoid turning our compassion into an unintended weapon.

The easiest way to bring clarity to a complex subject is to use a comparison. Stories, metaphors, similes, and analogies serve as bridges between the unknown and the familiar, making complex ideas accessible to any audience.

Using phrases like “imagine this” or “think of it like” isn’t a sign of oversimplification. Instead, it demonstrates mastery and the ability to not only grasp complex concepts but to translate them into language others can understand. Expertise reveals itself in the capacity to make the complicated feel simple.

Every analogy has its limits. Push any comparison far enough, and it will eventually break down or reveal inconsistencies. The goal isn’t perfect correspondence but rather illumination of the essential principles. A well-chosen analogy captures the heart of an idea, even if the details don’t align perfectly.

Jesus’ teaching leaned heavily on this type of explanation. For him, the kingdom of heaven is like … a king, a pearl, a little yeast, a mustard seed, and a dragnet. These weren’t signs of shallow understanding, but evidence of profound comprehension expressed through accessible wisdom.

Doing THE best is likely not the same as doing MY best.

Don’t let that stop you.

The kingdom of God needs your contribution, even if it is not perfect.

Recently, I revisited my old blog posts. It was a journey that proved both humbling and enlightening. Reading my work from eleven years ago was almost painful. Those early posts were riddled with mistakes, clunky writing, and wandering focus that made me wince.

My posts from six years ago told a different story. While I wasn’t delighted with them either, they showed clear progress. The writing had improved dramatically, though grammatical errors still peppered the text. These pieces were longer and more content-heavy than what I publish now, which explains why I could only manage two or three posts per week.

Today, I’ve found my rhythm. I’m genuinely pleased with both my writing system and the quality I’m producing. My posts are concise and digestible, crafted for busy readers who want substance without the fluff. My process has evolved too: I write, then put each piece through three rounds of editing to check grammar, refine the tone, and search for more effective phrases. I maintain a buffer of at least a week, giving myself space to revise when inspiration strikes. The result is work I’m proud to share with the world.

Last week, sitting in my office, I felt the urge to delete those early years entirely. Then I considered updating and republishing the old posts. In the end, I chose to leave them untouched and keep moving forward.

Those old posts chronicle more than just my evolution as a writer. They also document my growth as a Christian, parent, and pastor. Each imperfect sentence represents a step in my journey forward.

Many of us harbor the desire to erase our past, to delete or rewrite our earlier selves. Yet that flawed, fumbling past is precisely what brought us to where we stand today. Those words and experiences, however imperfect, are the building blocks of who we’ve become. I thank God for where I have been, but also for the way he is changing me through the years.

Every week, while I am in front of the Church, I look out and see three groups of people. 

One group is engaged. I love those people. They have their Bibles in print, or they follow along with their digital version. Sometimes they have notebooks. Often, they lean forward and listen.

Another group is distracted and frequently disinterested. The topic may not apply to them. They may stare out the window or at their phone. I use every tactic in my arsenal to get their attention because I know they are listening, but I am not connecting.

The final group is already asleep, or I watch them slowly nodding off. Most of the time, I recognize that it is not my fault. Late nights, long weeks, and physical exhaustion take over, and no matter what I say, I will lose them. 

Every week, I work and write the best sermon I am able. I take my sermon preparation very seriously. I pray, read, write, edit, and pray again. I utilize all the tools at my disposal to make the topic relevant and present it in an engaging style. I practice on Saturday night and Sunday morning, doing everything in my power to convey a message that connects.

Then I stand up and people sleep. Every. Single. Week.

I have come to realize that there is very little I can do about it. I am unable to force people to listen. While I strive to present the best sermon possible, I cannot make people hear what I am saying. Part of growing as a believer is not just having the best preachers and teachers, but also having a desire to learn from them. I cannot give anyone that desire.

This Sunday I will preach. Whether you find it helpful to your spiritual journey is up to you. You can engage or you can sleep, the choice is yours.

We need to be clear about why we are serving as part of a Church.  

Some people serve to use their gifts to the glory of God.

Others serve because they have a gift and enjoy using it.

Both groups are part of the Church, and most of the time, I cannot tell the difference by watching. Deciding on your motivation requires some soul-searching and prayer. Ultimately, it is between you and God, but it is an important question to consider.

One leads people to praise God, and the other to praise you.