Author: Eric

I sometimes use strong language.

Not constantly. Not to be edgy or shocking. But when something genuinely frustrates me, or I stub my toe, or I’m trying to make a strong point — yeah, a curse word might slip out.

And somehow, in certain Christian circles, that makes me suspect. Less spiritual. Maybe even questionable in my faith.

This is ridiculous.

Nowhere in the Bible does God hand us a list of forbidden words. There is no divine ban on certain vocabulary. That idea came from later cultural traditions, not Scripture.

What the Bible actually cares about is the heart behind our words.

“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29)

The issue isn’t specific words. It’s whether our speech tears people down or builds them up. Whether it flows from bitterness or from love.

Legalism: The Eternal Temptation

Strong language is just one small example. The church is full of these man-made rules:

• “Real Christians don’t drink alcohol.”
• “Real Christians don’t listen to that music.”
• “Real Christians dress a certain way.”
• “Real Christians don’t watch those movies.”
• “Real Christians home-school their kids.”
• “Real Christians vote this way.”

None of these things are in the actual gospel.

This is legalism — adding extra rules to the finished work of Christ. And Paul had terrifyingly strong words for it.

In the book of Galatians, false teachers were trying to convince Gentile Christians that they had to follow Jewish laws in order to be real Christians. Paul didn’t gently correct them. He went nuclear:

“But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed.” (Galatians 1:8)

He repeats it for emphasis in verse 9.

Paul calls adding anything to the gospel of grace anathema — cursed, damned, cut off from Christ.

Why was he so harsh?

Because legalism steals the freedom Christ died to give us. It turns the gospel from “It is finished” into “Now do all these extra things to prove you’re really saved.” It replaces relationship with performance. It replaces grace with guilt.

Jesus already warned us about this too:

“They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger.” (Matthew 23:4)

The Real Danger

Legalism doesn’t just make people judgmental. It kills joy. It drives people away from Jesus. It makes the church look like a country club with extra rules instead of a hospital for sinners.

I’ve watched it destroy churches. I’ve watched it wound good people. I’ve watched it turn the good news into bad news.

You can have all the “correct” rules and still miss the heart of God.

You can occasionally use strong language and still love Jesus with everything you’ve got.

The line isn’t drawn at vocabulary, clothing, music, or alcohol. The line is drawn at the heart.

Are you trusting in Christ alone for salvation? Are you growing in love, humility, and holiness by the power of the Holy Spirit?

If yes, then the rest is secondary.

Let’s stop adding to grace. Let’s stop making man-made rules the test of real faith.

Because Paul was right — when we do that, we’re preaching a different gospel.

And that gospel is accursed.

I have some thoughts.

Another high-profile Christian artist has fallen — Michael Tait, longtime voice of DC Talk and the Newsboys, confessing to years of cocaine abuse, alcoholism, and sexual misconduct.

The shock, the headlines, the “how could this happen?” reactions are predictable.

But after spending over a decade on worship teams myself, I’m not shocked.

Not because I don’t care. Not because it doesn’t grieve me. But because I’ve seen too much behind the scenes to be surprised anymore.

The stage is not the soul.

What Most People Don’t See

For 13 years I was on a worship team — playing, singing, helping lead services week after week. I’ve been in rehearsals, on stages, in green rooms, and in the quiet moments after the lights go down.

Here’s what I’ve observed:

Most worship leaders are not actually leading worship. They’re performing.

The rehearsal often feels more alive than the service itself. Song choices are frequently driven by what’s popular, what “flows,” what sounds impressive, or what makes the leader look good — not by what actually helps the congregation fix their eyes on Christ.

When someone is chosen to pick the worship set, it’s almost comical how often they’re “led by the Spirit” to do mostly their own favorite songs.

Many worship leaders are gifted — sometimes exceptionally so — but their personal lives are a mess. They can sing about surrender while living in hidden compromise. They can lead powerful moments of “presence” on Sunday and then go home to anger, addiction, pornography, or relational brokenness on Monday.

Talent is not transformation.

I’ve watched leaders chase the emotional high of the platform while their marriages, integrity, and private devotion crumbled. I’ve seen the same person cry out to God with tears on stage and then treat people with contempt off stage.

The gift was functioning. The heart was not.

This is not rare. It’s common enough that it should alarm us.

Jesus warned about this danger:

“Many will say to Me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name… and done many wonders in Your name?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you.’” (Matthew 7:22-23)

You can minister powerfully in public and still be a stranger to God in private.

The Deeper Problem

We have built a system that rewards performance over character.

We elevate people who can draw a crowd or create a powerful atmosphere, then act shocked when their hidden life doesn’t match their public image.

We protect the platform more than we protect the people.

We confuse gifting with godliness.

And when the cracks finally show, we’re quick to say “no one is perfect” or “we’re all just human” instead of asking the harder question: Why did we keep giving unchecked power and influence to people whose character was never truly tested?

The stage is not the soul.

Talent will take you places that character cannot sustain.

What We Need Instead

We need worship leaders who are first and foremost worshipers — people whose private devotion to God is deeper and more consistent than their public performance.

We need accountability that actually holds people to account before the scandal, not just after.

We need to stop chasing the emotional high and start pursuing the holiness that produces lasting fruit.

And we need to remember that the goal of worship is not a great set list or a powerful moment — it is to exalt Christ and help people encounter Him.

If the person leading worship is living a double life, the congregation is being led into a performance, not into the presence of God.

A Sobering Reminder

The world is watching.

When Christian artists and worship leaders live one way on stage and another way in secret, it doesn’t just hurt the individuals involved — it damages the credibility of the gospel.

People don’t reject Jesus because they’ve studied the New Testament carefully. They reject the version of Jesus they see in us.

The stage is not the soul.

Talent is not transformation.

And no amount of powerful singing or emotional moments can substitute for a life that actually looks like Jesus when the lights go down.

Let’s stop being shocked when the mask slips.

Let’s start demanding that the people we put on platforms actually live what they sing.

Because the world doesn’t need better performers.

It needs better worshipers.

This one is for you.

You know who you are.

You served faithfully for years — maybe even decades. You showed up, poured in, used your gifts, loved the people, and tried to honor God with your whole heart. You were ordained, or you taught, or you led worship, or you served behind the scenes in ways few people ever saw. You believed in the mission. You believed in the vision.

And then, slowly, you were pushed aside.

It didn’t happen with a dramatic confrontation. It happened in the small things:

• Promises made and then quietly forgotten.
• Opportunities given to the “inner circle” while you were told “maybe next time.”
• Being surrounded by yes-men who got the platform, the access, and the protection, while you — with your training, your calling, your years of faithfulness — became invisible.
• Watching less-qualified people get elevated because they knew how to play the game, while your gifting was ignored or minimized.
• Feeling the subtle shift from “we value you” to “we don’t really need you anymore.”

You tried to talk about it. You had the meetings. You asked for clarity. You were told “it’s not personal” or “we’re just going in a different direction” or “pray about it.” But the pattern never changed.

Eventually, you realized the truth: you were no longer useful to the machine. So the machine moved on without you.

I want you to hear this clearly:

It wasn’t your fault.

Your calling was real. Your gifting was real. Your service mattered. The fact that a small group of leaders chose loyalty and comfort over stewarding the gifts God placed in the body does not diminish the work you did or the person you are.

You are not invisible to God.

You are not irrelevant to the Kingdom.

The same Jesus who saw the widow with her two small coins, who noticed Zacchaeus in the tree, who stopped for the woman with the issue of blood — He sees you. He sees the quiet faithfulness, the unseen hours, the tears you cried when no one else noticed how much it hurt to be sidelined.

And He is not limited by their rejection.

This season of being pushed aside may feel like the end of something important, but it may also be the beginning of something freer and more authentic. Some of the most fruitful seasons in the Kingdom have come after people were rejected by the religious system of their day.

Jesus Himself was pushed aside by the religious elite. Paul was pushed aside by parts of the early church. Many of the greatest voices in church history were marginalized before their words carried weight.

You are in good company.

So here’s my encouragement to you:

• Grieve it. The pain is real. The disappointment is valid. Let yourself feel it.
• Release the need for their validation. Their silence or deflection says more about their insecurity than about your worth.
• Protect your heart. You don’t have to keep pouring into a place that refused to steward what God gave you.
• Keep your gifts. The calling doesn’t disappear just because one local expression rejected it. Your voice, your teaching, your leadership, your mercy — they still belong to the King.
• Look for healthier soil. Whether that’s a small house gathering, a different denomination, online ministry, or simply loving your neighbors well — God can still use you powerfully outside the system that sidelined you.

To the one who was pushed aside:

You are not forgotten. You are not useless. You are not alone.

Jesus sees you. He still has work for you — perhaps even more beautiful and free than what you imagined before.

Keep your eyes on Him, not on the ones who looked past you.

The Kingdom is bigger than any one church, any one leader, and any one inner circle.

You are still part of it.

There’s a never-ending argument in Christian circles about worship style.

One side insists that the only “real worship” is old hymns sung with an organ and a hymnal. Anything with a guitar, drums, or lights is “worldly” or “shallow.”

The other side builds massive productions with smoke machines, colored lights, and concert-level sound — then calls it “anointed worship.”

Both sides are missing the point.

Style is overrated as a debate topic.

The real issue is far simpler and far more uncomfortable: Very few people in American churches are actually worshiping.

The Two Extremes

I’ve seen both sides up close.

I spent over a decade on a worship team. I know what rehearsal looks like. I’ve watched people argue over song choices, keys, and stage placement like it was a Broadway production. I’ve seen worship leaders pick songs that “flow well” or “sound good” while rarely asking, “Does this actually help us exalt Christ?”

At the same time, I’ve heard the traditionalist crowd act like anything written after 1950 is suspect. They treat hymns like they’re magically more spiritual because they’re old, ignoring that many of those hymns were once the “new songs” that traditionalists of their day also rejected.

Both camps obsess over style while often missing the heart.

Jesus didn’t prescribe a musical style. He said the Father is seeking worshipers who will worship “in spirit and in truth” (John 4:23-24). That’s not about organs versus bands. It’s about the heart.

What Authentic Worship Actually Looks Like

Authentic worship is simple:

• It’s about God, not us.
• It’s about giving glory, not getting a good performance high.
• It’s about surrender, not self-expression.

When the focus shifts to “How does this make me feel?” or “How does this look on stage?” or “How cool is our production?” — we’ve stopped worshiping and started performing.

I’ve been in far too many services where the band sounded incredible, the lights were perfect, and the crowd was hyped… but the room felt spiritually dead. The musicians were more concerned with nailing the bridge than actually encountering God.

On the flip side, I’ve been in quiet, traditional services where everything was “correct” and “reverent,” but the hearts were cold and the people were just going through the motions.

Both are performance — just different aesthetics.

Real worship can happen with hymns or with modern songs. It can happen with organs or with guitars. It can happen in a cathedral or in a living room.

What matters is the heart behind it.

The Heart of the Problem

Here’s the uncomfortable truth I learned after more than a decade on worship teams:

Most worship leaders are not actually leading worship. They’re leading a concert with Jesus lyrics.

The rehearsal often feels more alive than the service. Song choices are frequently driven by what’s popular, what “flows,” or what makes the leader look good — not by what helps the congregation fix their eyes on Christ.

When someone is picked to choose the worship set, it’s almost comical how often they’re “led by the Spirit” to do all their favorite songs.

That’s not worship leadership. That’s self-indulgence with a spiritual label.

One of the clearest signs that we’ve crossed from worship into performance is when people start gushing, “How amazing is the worship team!” and nobody has the humility to deflect it. No one says, “Man, what an amazing God we serve!” Instead, the praise lands on the musicians, the production, the vibe. That moment reveals everything. The focus has shifted from the Worthy One to the people on stage.

Jesus had strong words for this kind of thing:

“These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” (Matthew 15:8)

Authentic worship costs something. It requires humility, focus, and surrender. It’s not about how good we sound or how spiritual we look. It’s about giving God the glory He alone deserves.

A Better Way

If we want real worship to return, we need to kill the performance on both ends:

• Stop treating hymns like they’re magically holier.
• Stop treating modern worship like a rock concert with a Jesus logo.
• Stop choosing songs based on how they make us feel or how cool they sound.
• Start choosing songs (old or new) that exalt Christ and help people fix their eyes on Him.

Worship leaders: Ask yourself honestly — are you leading people to Jesus, or are you performing?

Congregation: Stop chasing the emotional high. Worship is not about how you feel. It’s about who God is. And when you feel moved to praise the team, redirect it: “What an amazing God we serve!”

The style debate is mostly noise. The real question is much simpler:

Are we actually worshiping — in spirit and in truth — or are we just putting on a religious show?

Let’s stop pretending. Let’s get back to the heart of it.

Let’s be honest about something that rarely gets talked about in polite Christian circles:

A lot of women in the church treat men like trash — and it’s often played off as a joke.

I’ve sat in small groups, Bible studies, and casual conversations where wives openly mock their husbands: calling them lazy, stupid, incompetent, or “just another man-child.” The men are expected to sit there, smile, and take it. If a man ever said the same things about his wife in public, he’d be labeled a misogynist and probably pulled aside for a “talk.”

This double standard is exhausting — and it’s damaging marriages.

The Biblical Standard Is Mutual Respect

Ephesians 5 is very clear about marriage:

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…” (v. 25)

But it doesn’t stop there. Two verses later it says:

“However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” (v. 33)

Notice the parallel: Husbands are commanded to love sacrificially. Wives are commanded to respect.

Both are non-negotiable. Both are hard. Both are essential.

When women are permitted (or even encouraged) to speak disrespectfully about their husbands — calling them lazy, useless, or incompetent — it violates that command. And when the church laughs along or stays silent, it reinforces the problem.

I’ve heard it in my own church circles for years: casual jabs about how men are “useless around the house,” “can’t do anything right,” or “just want to sit on the couch.” It’s often framed as “just joking” or “venting.” But words have power. Constant disrespect chips away at a man’s soul the same way constant criticism chips away at a woman’s.

Respect isn’t optional in marriage. It’s foundational.

Why This Double Standard Exists

Part of it is cultural pushback. After decades of male failure and abuse in some circles, there’s been a corrective swing — sometimes healthy, sometimes reactionary. But the pendulum has swung so far that disrespect toward men is now treated as funny or even empowering, while any criticism of women is labeled toxic.

That’s not biblical balance. That’s just swapping one form of sin for another.

Jesus didn’t model this. He treated women with dignity and respect in a culture that often didn’t. He also called men to sacrificial, servant-hearted leadership — not domineering control or passive laziness.

Mutual respect is the goal. Anything less is sin.

The Cost to Marriages

When respect dies, love usually follows.

I’ve watched marriages in the church erode not because of big dramatic sins, but because of a thousand small cuts of disrespect. A wife rolling her eyes at her husband in public. Jokes about how “men are useless.” Comments that imply he’s less spiritual, less capable, or less valuable.

Men feel it. Many stop trying. Some check out emotionally. Others become defensive or withdrawn. The marriage slowly dies from a lack of honor.

The same thing happens in reverse when husbands treat wives with contempt. Sin is sin.

The solution isn’t to swing back to harsh male headship or silent female submission. The solution is mutual respect — the kind Paul actually commanded.

Husbands: love your wives sacrificially, even when it costs you. Wives: respect your husbands, even when he’s not acting respectable.

Both are hard. Both require the Holy Spirit. Both are non-negotiable if we want marriages that reflect Christ and the church.

A Challenge to the Church

Church, we have to stop excusing this.

If a man stood up in a small group and casually trashed his wife — calling her lazy, naggy, or incompetent — we would (rightly) confront him. We need the same courage when women do it to men.

Let’s stop laughing at the “men are trash” jokes. Let’s stop tolerating casual disrespect as “just venting.” Let’s call both husbands and wives to the high standard of Ephesians 5: mutual love and mutual respect.

Marriage is hard enough without the church adding fuel to the fire by allowing one-sided contempt.

If we want strong marriages, we need to stop the double standard and start practicing what we preach: honor, respect, and love — for both husbands and wives.

The world is watching. Our kids are watching. Jesus is watching.

Let’s do better.

The American church is not dead.

The Bride of Christ — the global, timeless body of believers who have trusted in Jesus across centuries — is still alive and breathing.

But what we have built in America, what I’ll call Churchianity, is dying. And it’s dying fast.

Churchianity is not Christianity. It is a strange American hybrid: part country club, part political rally, part self-help seminar with a Jesus logo slapped on it. It has buildings, budgets, branding, bylaws, and bright lights… but less and less of the actual life, love, and power of Jesus.

The data confirms what many of us have felt for years. Gallup reports that church membership has dropped from 70% in 1999 to just 47% in 2024. Among adults under 30, it’s far lower. Barna and Pew show the same trend: the “nones” (those with no religious affiliation) are the fastest-growing group in America. People aren’t just skipping church on Sunday — they’re walking away from the institution entirely.

They’re not leaving because Jesus asked too much of them. They’re leaving because His people have asked far too little of themselves.

Here’s the hard truth: the American church has largely traded the radical, upside-down Kingdom of Jesus for a comfortable, cultural Christianity that looks a lot like the world — just with better production value and a cross on the sign.

What Churchianity Actually Looks Like

You see it in the cliques. The “inner circle” or “squad” gets the opportunities, the information, the platform, and the protection. Everyone else feels like a second-class member. One former church member told me, “I served for twelve years. The day I stepped down from my ministry role, it was like I became invisible. People who called me ‘brother’ suddenly looked right through me in the lobby.”

You see it in the gossip. Leaders who preach against gossip from the pulpit treat confidential conversations like social currency. “I shouldn’t say anything, but pray for so-and-so…” turns into “Did you hear what happened?” within days. Another person shared, “I opened up about my marriage struggles in confidence. Within two weeks, half the church knew. I never went back.”

You see it in the broken promises. Pastors and leaders make commitments — “We’ll use you more,” “You’ll have more opportunities to teach,” “We’re behind you” — only for those promises to quietly evaporate. The pattern of flaking erodes trust until it’s gone.

You see it in the politics. Both sides do it. The left tries to turn Jesus into a socialist activist. The right turns Him into a culture warrior. In both cases, the gospel gets reduced to a campaign slogan. One young woman told me, “I stopped going because every sermon felt like a political speech with a Bible verse attached. I came for Jesus and left feeling like I was just another voter to be mobilized.”

You see it in the performative worship. Huge budgets for lights, smoke, and production value while the actual rehearsal feels more alive than the service itself. The focus shifts from humble worship to a concert with a Jesus logo. One longtime attendee said, “It started feeling like we were there to watch a show, not to meet with God.”

And you see it in the favoritism and exclusion. We say “come as you are,” but the moment someone asks hard questions, struggles with same-sex attraction, challenges a favorite leader, or simply stops serving in a visible role, the welcome mat disappears. Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners. Too often, we quietly push away anyone who doesn’t fit our cultural or political mold.

This isn’t Christianity. This is American Churchianity — a comfortable, cultural version of faith that has more in common with a social club or political tribe than with the radical, upside-down Kingdom Jesus announced.

Jesus’ Sharpest Words Were for Us

Look at Jesus in the Gospels. His most scathing words were not aimed at the drunk in the tavern, the prostitute in the alley, or the tax collector. They were aimed at the religious leaders — the ones who were supposed to be shepherding the flock.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness.” (Matthew 23:27)

He wasn’t angry because they were too strict. He was angry because they were hypocrites — beautiful on the outside, dead on the inside. They loved the seats of honor, piled heavy burdens on others, and neglected justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

Sound familiar?

When we protect our image, our cliques, our political tribe, or our platform more than we protect the vulnerable, we become the very thing Jesus condemned.

Why People Are Leaving

People aren’t leaving because the gospel is too demanding. They’re leaving because we have lived too little of it.

They see leaders who preach unity but practice favoritism. They see people who sing “I surrender all” but live like their comfort, politics, and reputation are non-negotiable. They see churches that talk about love but practice exclusion.

And they see it most clearly when someone who has served faithfully for years is quietly pushed aside or ignored until they become irrelevant.

The world doesn’t reject Jesus because they’ve carefully studied the New Testament. They reject the version of Jesus they see in us.

There Is Still Hope

The real Church — the Bride of Christ — is not dying. The real Church has always thrived when it looked least like the surrounding culture.

What we’re watching may be the slow death of a cultural Christianity that needed to die so something more authentic can be born.

If we want the American church to live again, we need to stop practicing Churchianity and start practicing actual Christianity:

• Love that costs something.
• Truth spoken with humility, not as a weapon.
• Community that includes the inconvenient and the different.
• Leaders who serve instead of building empires.
• Worship that is about God, not our feelings or production value.

The Kingdom of God is not a political platform, a country club, or a self-help seminar.

It is a radically different way of being human under the rule of King Jesus.

If we’re willing to let the old version die, maybe something closer to what Jesus actually started can rise again.

The question is simple: Are we willing to do the unpopular thing — actually love like Jesus did?

Or will we keep practicing Churchianity until we’re ignored into irrelevance?

The American church is really good at doing the popular thing.

We love gathering with people who look like us, think like us, and vote like us. We’re quick to post Bible verses that support our tribe. We’re excellent at drawing lines and defending them.

But Jesus didn’t call us to do the popular thing.

He called us to do the unpopular thing.

The Unpopular Command

Jesus gave us one clear, unmistakable command that should shape everything else:

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35)

That word “love” isn’t warm fuzzy feelings. In the original Greek it’s agapē — the deliberate, costly, self-giving love that Jesus showed on the cross.

And here’s the part that makes church people nervous: Jesus didn’t limit that command to the lovable.

He ate with tax collectors and sinners. He touched lepers. He had long conversations with Samaritan women and Roman centurions. He let a prostitute wash His feet with her tears.

He consistently moved toward the people “good religious folks” avoided.

So maybe the most counter-cultural, unpopular thing the church could do right now is actually obey Jesus and love the people we’re tempted to reject.

That includes the gay community.

Not “love the sinner, hate the sin” as a slogan we hide behind while keeping them at arm’s length. Not “we’ll pray for you from a distance.” Not “we’ll accept you if you change first.”

Just love. Real, costly, Jesus-shaped love.

Love that listens before it lectures. Love that shows up when life is hard. Love that treats people as image-bearers of God instead of political opponents or moral projects.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: If we can’t love the gay person sitting in our pew (or the one who would never step foot in our building), then we’re not actually doing the hard work of the gospel. We’re just doing comfortable Christianity with better lighting.

What This Actually Looks Like

• It looks like listening to someone’s story without immediately preparing your rebuttal.
• It looks like inviting people into your home and your life before you try to fix their theology.
• It looks like caring for someone when they’re sick, grieving, or struggling — without making your care conditional on their behavior.
• It looks like refusing to use people as culture-war pawns.

This doesn’t mean we abandon biblical truth. It means we stop using truth as a weapon and start letting it be spoken in the context of real relationship and genuine love.

Jesus never compromised truth, but He also never withheld love. He held both perfectly. We rarely hold either well.

The Church’s Reputation Problem

The world doesn’t reject Jesus because they’ve carefully studied the New Testament. They reject the version of Jesus they see in us.

When we’re known more for what we’re against than who we love, we’ve already lost the conversation.

Jesus said the world would know we belong to Him by our love (John 13:35). Not by our voting record. Not by how loudly we denounce sin. Not by how well we defend doctrine.

By our love.

And if we’re honest, that’s exactly where we’re failing the most.

Time to Do the Unpopular Thing

So here’s my challenge to the church — especially to those of us who claim to follow the Wesleyan-Holiness tradition or any tradition that talks a lot about holiness:

Stop making holiness about who we exclude. Start making it about who we love like Jesus did.

Love the person with the rainbow flag. Love the person with the Trump hat. Love the addict, the skeptic, the loudmouth, the quiet doubter.

Love them not as a project to be fixed, but as people made in the image of God who are just as broken and just as loved by Jesus as we are.

That’s unpopular. It will get you criticized from both sides. It might even cost you some “friends” in the church.

But it’s also the most Jesus-like thing we could possibly do.

The world doesn’t need another culture warrior. It needs to see what it looks like when people actually believe Jesus when He said to love one another the way He loved us.

So church… let’s do the unpopular thing.

Let’s love.

Trust in the American church is collapsing — among believers and among the growing number of people who are functionally atheist or “done” with organized religion. The reasons are not mysterious.

People see the gap between what we preach and how we actually behave.

Gallup has tracked this decline for decades. Church membership in the U.S. has fallen from 70% in 1999 to just 47% in 2024. Among younger adults (18–29), it’s even lower. Barna Group and Pew Research show that the top reasons people leave or stay away include hypocrisy, judgmentalism, gossip, favoritism, and leaders who fail to practice what they preach.

Here are four of the biggest trust-killers I’ve seen up close:

1. Staff and leaders can’t keep their mouths shut.

One of the quickest ways to kill trust is gossip disguised as “prayer requests” or “just venting.”

If someone comes to you in confidence — especially a hard conversation about sin, marriage, addiction, or leadership failure — your spouse does not need to know the details. Your best friend does not need to know. Your small group does not need to know.

Yet far too often, staff and lay leaders treat confidential matters like currency. “I shouldn’t say anything, but pray for so-and-so…” and before long the whole church knows. Then the person who trusted leadership feels betrayed.

This is not a minor issue. It is a profound failure of integrity. The Bible is crystal clear: “A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy person keeps a secret” (Proverbs 11:13). If people cannot trust leadership to protect their vulnerability, why would they ever trust the church with their soul?

2. We say “love” but practice control and exclusion.

We loudly proclaim “God loves you” and “come as you are,” but the moment someone steps out of line — asks hard questions, struggles with same-sex attraction, challenges a favorite leader, or simply stops serving — the welcome mat disappears.

Jesus said “come as you are.” The church too often adds “…but get your act together first, and make sure it matches our politics and preferences.”

That gap is glaring. People outside the church see it immediately. Many inside the church feel it personally. Jesus spent most of His time with the very people religious leaders excluded (tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans). When we do the opposite, we contradict the heart of the gospel.

3. Favoritism and cliques destroy credibility.

I was ordained, on staff, and had the same formal authority as the senior pastor, yet I was often the last person to know important information. Meanwhile, a small inner circle was always in the loop.

Cliques are stupid. They are also deadly to trust. When a church has an obvious “in crowd” that gets the opportunities, the information, and the protection, everyone else feels like a second-class citizen. That’s not family. That’s a country club with a cross on the sign.

Even worse is when leaders openly brag about “squad life” — treating the inner circle like an exclusive club. That kind of language reveals a toxic culture of favoritism and exclusion, not the unity Jesus prayed for in John 17.

4. Broken promises and unkept commitments add up.

How many times does a leader have to make vague assurances about the future, only for none of it to materialize, before people stop believing anything they say?

After a while, it doesn’t matter how sincerely the promise was made. The pattern of flaking erodes trust until it’s gone. Proverbs 25:19 says, “Like a broken tooth or a lame foot is reliance on the unfaithful in a time of trouble.”

Why this matters

People aren’t leaving the church primarily because of atheism or secularism. Many are leaving because they no longer trust the institution to be what it claims to be.

They see leaders who gossip while preaching against it. They see favoritism while hearing sermons about unity. They see performative spirituality while being told to “just trust God.”

And they see it most clearly when someone who has served faithfully for years is quietly pushed aside or ignored.

Trust is earned slowly and lost quickly. The church has been losing it for a long time, and the silence from many current members when good people are hurt only accelerates the problem.

If we want trust to return, we need fewer slick slogans and more integrity:

• Keep confidences.
• Kill cliques and “squad life” mentalities.
• Keep your word.
• Love people when they’re inconvenient, not just when they’re useful.
• Stop using Scripture as a political or personal weapon.

Until then, the exodus will continue — not because people hate Jesus, but because they no longer believe the church represents Him well.

Today is my 27th wedding anniversary.

Twenty-seven years with the same woman. Three kids. A lot of laughter, some really hard seasons, and more grace than I deserve.

I’m not a marriage expert. I don’t have a counseling degree. I’m just a guy who’s still trying to figure it out, still failing sometimes, and still deeply grateful that Aunalie has stuck with me through it all.

Here’s what I’ve learned so far — the pragmatic stuff that actually matters more than the romantic fluff:

1. Marriage is not 50/50. It’s 100/100 on the days you can give it, and grace on the days you can’t.

Some days you’ll both be at 100%. Most days, one of you will be running on fumes. The secret isn’t keeping score. It’s being willing to give 100% even when your spouse can only give 30%. And when you’re the one at 30%, receive the grace without guilt.

I’ve had seasons where I was a terrible husband — distracted, short-tempered, selfish. Aunalie gave more than her share. Other seasons, she was struggling and I had to carry more. That’s marriage. Keep showing up.

2. Your wife doesn’t need a perfect husband. She needs a husband who is present and honest.

Presence beats perfection every time. Put the phone down. Look her in the eye when she talks. Ask how her day actually was — and listen to the answer.

Say you’re sorry when you’re wrong. Say it quickly. Say it specifically. “I’m sorry” is powerful, but “I’m sorry I raised my voice and dismissed your feelings when you were trying to tell me about your hard day” is even better.

3. Being a good dad is simpler than we make it.

Show up. Keep your word. Listen more than you lecture. Admit when you’re wrong in front of your kids — it teaches them humility and that it’s safe to fail.

Love their mom well in front of them. That might be the most important thing you can do as a father. Kids feel security when they see their parents choosing each other.

I have three sons: James, Kristopher, and Chance. Chance is no longer with us, but he existed, he mattered, and he is still part of our family story. My living boys have seen me at my best and my worst. I hope they remember a dad who wasn’t perfect, but who kept showing up and tried to love their mom well.

Spend time with them doing things they care about, even if you don’t. Those moments matter more than any “perfect” family devotional.

4. Sex matters, but it’s not the most important thing.

Physical intimacy is important, but in a long marriage it ebbs and flows. What matters more is emotional safety and affection outside the bedroom. Hold her hand. Kiss her when you walk in the door. Tell her she’s beautiful when she’s in sweatpants with no makeup.

A marriage that only has romance when it’s convenient won’t last. A marriage that has friendship and respect can weather a lot of dry seasons.

5. Forgive quickly. Keep short accounts.

Bitterness grows in the small, unaddressed things. Talk about the hard stuff before it festers. Say “I forgive you” out loud. Mean it.

After 27 years, I can tell you the biggest regrets aren’t the big fights — they’re the small moments where I chose pride over peace.

6. Pray for your wife and kids more than you complain about them.

This one is simple but brutally hard. When I’m frustrated with Aunalie or one of the boys, the most powerful thing I can do is stop and pray for them instead of rehearsing my grievances. It changes my heart faster than anything else.

Final thought

Marriage isn’t about finding the right person. It’s about becoming the right person — day after day, year after year — for the one you promised to love.

I’m still learning. I still fail. But I’m more grateful today than I was on April 17, 1999, because I’ve seen how faithful God has been even when I wasn’t.

To Aunalie: thank you for loving me when I was hard to love. Thank you for the grace, the laughter, the patience, and the way you still make me want to be a better man.

To my sons — James, Kristopher, and Chance: I hope you see a dad who isn’t perfect, but who keeps showing up and trying to love your mom well. Chance, you are still loved and remembered.

If you’re married, don’t wait for the big anniversary to say the important things. Say them today.

If you’re not married yet, remember this: the best gift you can give your future spouse is becoming the kind of person who knows how to love faithfully when it’s hard.

27 years in, and I’m still convinced it’s worth it.

Several years ago at Nazarene Theological Seminary, I had to read Norman Wirzba’s book Food and Faith for a class on Christian ethics. When I first opened it, I rolled my eyes. Being somewhat close-minded on the topic at the time, I thought, “Oh boy… hippie ideology.”

I was wrong.

First of all, I cannot recommend the book enough. Wirzba writes with clarity and humility. He points out failures in our relationship with creation without making the reader feel like a complete failure themselves. It’s thoughtful, biblical, and surprisingly practical.

The reason I’ve been thinking about this again is pretty simple.

I’m forty-eight years old as I write this, and I have a wide range of hobbies — WWE, college wrestling, fishing, reading, building models, birdwatching, you name it. Recently, I decided I wanted to turn my flower garden into a real spot of tranquility (as much tranquility as one can find in a development with an HOA). I can’t turn the entire property into a wild nature garden… I don’t think the neighbors or the HOA would appreciate that.

But as I’ve been working on it, I’ve been reflecting again on what it actually means to care for creation in a distinctly Christian way.

Ecology Has Become Political

Unfortunately, “green living” has been hijacked and turned into a political ideology. You see jet-setting celebrities and politicians lecturing the rest of us about our carbon footprint while they fly private and destroy local environments. One very famous actor reportedly trashed a beach so badly it had to be closed. Meanwhile, some on the other side reject any concern for the environment simply because “those people” care about it.

Both extremes are foolish.

I suppose you could say I was “green” before it was cool — or hated. But my version didn’t come from political activism. It came from my childhood in West Virginia.

Learning from Pappaw

I was blessed to grow up next door to my mother’s parents in a very small community. By my earliest memories, my grandfather (I called him Pappaw) was already retired from the coal mines. He spent his days working in his basement workshop and tending to three rather massive gardens.

It’s the gardens I remember most.

Every spring, summer, and fall, I helped him lug 5-gallon buckets of water up and down each row so he could give every plant a half mason jar of water. But what stuck with me even more were his stories and practical wisdom.

He planted massive sunflowers for no other reason than “to feed the bees, Casper. We have to be responsible.”

One of his gardens rotated every year. He’d plant soybeans and then simply plow or till them back under “to restore what the plants took from the soil last year.” It was green living without the name or the politics — just good stewardship.

If I had an apple, I was expected to eat all of it, right down to the seeds (he called them “eeples”). Nothing was wasted. A lot of that was hard-won by living through the Great Depression, but a lot of it was simple common sense transitioning into a “more modern era.”

Back to My Garden

I really like birds. I’ve recently gotten into birding. I have several bird feeders on my property and will be installing a couple bird houses shortly. I watch the birds hop around, eat seed, whatever. We’ve had a rabbit — we call her Fluffy — living under one of my knockout roses in the daytime. Her den is in my neighbor’s yard. I like honey bees.

I got to thinking: “What can I plant that will grow back year after year that will attract birds, bees, insects, all the pollinators — AND look pretty?” Pretty is nice, but secondary to functional.

According to my research, the answer was Black Eyed Susans, Catmint, Butterfly Bushes, Bee Balm, Purple Coneflowers, Shasta Daisies, Irish Moss, Creeping Phlox, and Salvia. I also added a raspberry bush. They’re just now starting to show flowers, and Fluffy is even more at home… eating the Phlox.

The benefit is seeing the bees all over it. I’m actually very allergic to bee stings, but I can sit and watch European Honey Bees all day long. The birds have been coming more and more — House Finches, American Goldfinches, Mourning Doves, the occasional Northern Cardinal, Red-Winged Blackbird, Chipping Sparrows, and others. The Robins love the worms the gardening scares up.

So… what does this have to do with Wirzba’s book? Hang on — I’m getting there.

Dominion Is Not Destruction

First thing we need to remember: while God gave us dominion over this world, He absolutely did not give us a mandate to destroy it. There is an old Alabama song that says “it’s only ours to borrow, let’s save some for tomorrow.”

This is also true. I’d like to think we’re well past the “whatever works for me right now and to hell with the future or those who complain about it.”

Here’s the thing: there’s something about growing your own food — or even just tending a garden with care — that will change you. I’m not allowed to grow food in my current neighborhood, but I have this daydream of an ecological homestead of, say, 30 acres where only fewer than 5 will be developed for human use… the rest of it left alone or developed to the benefit of the other creatures that inhabit it — deer, coyotes, Pileated Woodpeckers, black rat snakes. Nothing is too “vile” or “scary” to be stewarded.

To set this up, I have to tell you a couple truths: I don’t hunt. I fish, but every fish I catch gets a kiss and tossed back. I don’t like killing animals.

But I have zero problem with those who harvest animals responsibly, and I still eat meat that I buy at the grocery store… which is where the problem begins for me, and most of us.

Wirzba wrote, “Food is about the relationships that join us to the earth, fellow creatures, loved ones and guests, and ultimately God. How we eat testifies to whether we value the creatures we live with and depend on” (Wirzba, p. 6).

Eating is necessarily destructive — there’s no way around that. But we can limit that destruction.

As I’ve said, I love to fish, but I’m a catch-and-release guy. In Ohio, the minimum limit to keep a Walleye is 15 inches and you can only keep 6. Walleye is a huge deal here, especially in Lake Erie and the Maumee River… and the conservation-minded will call you out if you’ve foul-hooked one or try to keep those you shouldn’t.

But… what if people aren’t watching? If you’ll only do it when nobody is watching, that’s an indicator you know it’s wrong. Pretty soon everybody keeps a few that are 14”, then the bar gets lowered; or “what’s the harm in keeping 8?” A million people keeping 2 extra is two million extra fish kept when they shouldn’t.

That expedites the destruction of the fishery and does irreparable harm to the ecosystem, eventually bringing stricter restrictions or shutting down the sport entirely.

Factory farming has removed us too far from the destructiveness of our eating habits, causing us to be a bit more gluttonous and more animals to needlessly die. We just need to pause and think a bit more.

Giving Back More Than We Take

Then the “real green” comes in: giving back more than you’ve taken. Setting up a refuge. Don’t kill a coyote just because it exists. Simple stuff like that.

God gave us dominion over creation (Genesis 1:26-28), but dominion is not domination or destruction. The Hebrew word for “subdue” (kabash) and “rule” (radah) is balanced by Genesis 2:15, where humanity is placed in the garden “to work it and take care of it” (avad and shamar — the same words used for serving God and keeping His commandments). We are stewards, not owners. The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it (Psalm 24:1).

Wirzba reminds us that how we eat reveals whether we value the creatures we live with and depend on. When we forget the cost of our food — the soil depleted, the animals treated as commodities, the waste generated — we live as if creation exists only for our convenience.

My Pappaw didn’t call it “ecology.” He just called it being responsible.

Maybe we need to recover that kind of simple, humble stewardship — free from both political ideology and careless indifference.

What do you think? Have you seen practical ways to care for creation that feel faithful rather than performative? I’d love to hear your thoughts.