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.

Recently, my daily Bible reading plan has led me to passages that contain long lists of names. Let me be totally honest: when I’m reading through Scripture and hit one of those, my eyes tend to glaze over.

But lately, I’ve been struck by something profound hidden in those seemingly endless lists of names. Each one represents a person God knew intimately. Each name carried a story, dreams, struggles, hopes, doubts, and moments of both faithfulness and failure. And God remembered them all.

Think about it: these weren’t just the famous characters we know well. Mixed in with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are names like Mahalalel, Jared, and Methuselah. These are people whose individual stories we’ll never know this side of heaven. Yet their names are preserved in Scripture, recorded for all time as part of God’s unfolding plan.

There’s something deeply comforting about this. In a world where we can feel anonymous, where our struggles seem invisible, where we wonder if anyone truly sees us, these lists whisper a different truth: God knows your name. He knows the names of your great-great-grandparents you’ve never heard of. He knows the name of the person whose legacy seems forgotten.

Your name matters to Him. You’re not lost in the crowd or forgotten in the shuffle. You’re known, you’re seen, and you’re loved with a love that remembers names across generations.

The next time you encounter one of those passages, try reading it differently. Let it remind you that in God’s economy, every name counts, including yours.

There’s a pain that cuts deeper than any external circumstance could ever reach. It’s the ache that comes from looking in the mirror and realizing that your most significant obstacle isn’t the world around you; instead, it’s the person staring back at you.

I’m talking about self-sabotage.

At the heart of every act of self-sabotage is a disconnect between what God declares about us and what we choose to believe about ourselves. When we don’t truly grasp his truth about us, we start making decisions based on lies.

Perhaps it’s the opportunity you walked away from because that voice in your head whispered, “You’re not qualified for this.” Or maybe it’s the way you keep returning to destructive habits, even though you know they’re stealing your joy.

The enemy doesn’t always need to attack us directly. Sometimes, he needs to whisper subtle doubts about our identity in Christ, and we’ll do the rest of the damage ourselves. “You’re not really forgiven.” “God couldn’t possibly use someone like you.” “You don’t deserve good things.”

When we agree with these lies, we begin to live in ways that make them seem true.

Breaking free from self-sabotage requires more than positive thinking. It demands a fundamental shift in how we see ourselves. We cannot look through the lens of our failures, but we need to see ourselves through Christ’s finished work.

This means learning to take our thoughts captive, as Paul instructs in 2 Corinthians 10:5. When that familiar voice of condemnation starts whispering, we need to ask: “Is this thought consistent with what God says about me in His Word?”

The beautiful reality is that even our self-inflicted wounds are covered by the blood of Jesus. No pattern is so entrenched, no mistake so big that it places us beyond the reach of God’s redemptive love.

Stop fighting against the very grace that wants to set you free. Your healing begins the moment you decide to trust God’s heart toward you more than your own assessment of your worthiness.

Your children will be about one step further away from Jesus than you are while raising them.

Let that sink in.

If you go to Church twice a month, then your children will probably be attending once every couple of months. If you serve others in the name of Jesus once a month, they will probably serve a couple of times a year. If you do not read your Bible except on Sunday, they will not read it at all. If you are only generous to the people who give to you, your children will be selfish.

The best way to help your children be fully devoted followers of Jesus is to be one yourself. Their life will be a slightly distorted reflection of yours.

Last week, I went to my mother’s house and helped her celebrate her 90^th birthday. I was able to spend about three days with her, visiting and helping out around the house. She and I were able to clean up her yard, get her flower gardens planted and ready for the year, along with me getting her shower fixed up for her.

Why did I take my vacation to do all that? There are three reasons. One, I love my mother, and I want to bless her life as much as she has blessed mine through the years. Two, I want to obey the word of the Lord and honor my mother. Three, I want to leave a legacy for my boys.

Based on family history, there is a good chance that I am going to meet Jesus sometime before my wife. I want my four boys to all have a model to show them how to honor their mother. It is more than just throwing money at issues. It is about spending time with her, celebrating with her, and connecting on a personal level.

I may not have been the best son when I was young, but I am working hard to finish strong. And I want my boys to follow my lead when their mother is forced to face life without me. Usually, example is the best teacher, and I want my boys to see a son who cares for his mother when they look at me.