When the Kingdom Is Bigger Than Our Circle In Luke 9:49–50, the disciples tried to stop someone from ministering in Jesus’ name because “he does not follow with us.” Not because he denied Jesus. Not because he opposed the gospel. But because he wasn’t part of their circle. Jesus said, “Do not stop him, for the one who is not against you is for you.” That challenges me. In the church, we will not agree on every secondary issue, including who serves, how they serve, and what that service looks like. We will wrestle with Scripture. We will land on different topics and address difficult ones. But disagreement does not automatically equal opposition to Christ. Sometimes we are more protective of our camp than attentive to the kingdom. As a pastor, I want to help heal, not inflame. I want to hold convictions with humility and remember that Jesus is at work beyond my circle. The kingdom is bigger than our labels. Lord, guard our hearts from pride and insecurity. Keep us faithful to your word and anchored in truth. Where we are right, keep us humble. Where we are wrong, correct us gently. Teach us to recognize your work even when it looks different from what we expect. Protect your church from unnecessary division, and make us people who build up rather than tear down. Give us courage to stand firm and grace to love well. Amen.

How Are You Hearing? Recently, I had my hearing checked because people around me, mostly women, noticed I wasn’t always hearing as well as I thought I was. The evaluation confirmed some hearing loss, and I was fitted with my first pair of hearing aids. I don’t wear them all the time; I only wear them in certain settings where I know I need help hearing clearly. My experience mirrors Jesus’ words in Luke 8:18: “Take care then how you hear…” Hearing, I learned, isn’t just about having the ability; it’s about choosing to use it. I can own hearing aids, but if I leave them off, I still miss important voices, directions, and nuances. In the same way, we can have access to God’s word, sit under teaching, and call ourselves listeners, yet still fail to hear if we are not truly attentive and responsive. Jesus warns that spiritual hearing is never neutral. When we lean in and receive what he says, clarity grows, and understanding deepens. But when we neglect it, even what we assume we understand begins to fade. The question is not whether God is speaking, but whether we are intentionally listening and using what we’ve been given. Jesus, you are always speaking through your word, your Spirit, and the people you place in our lives. Help me take care not just of what I hear, but of how I hear. Where I’ve grown inattentive or selective, gently correct me. Give me the humility to use what you’ve already given, and the courage to respond in obedience. Tune my heart to your voice, and help me not miss what you are saying today. Amen.

Wrestling with Doubt When John the Baptist sent word to Jesus from prison, he asked a painfully honest question: “Are you the one, or should we look for another?” (Luke 7:20) I understand that question. I’ve wrestled with doubt too, especially in seasons when my faith was wounded, and life didn’t look the way I believed it should. Like John, I wasn’t questioning who Jesus claimed to be so much as trying to make sense of what I was living through. What helped me overcome doubt was this: I couldn’t deny what Jesus had already done in my life. Even in my wounded faith, Jesus met me. He transformed me. He carried me when I didn’t have the strength to carry myself. Doubt didn’t disappear because I found perfect answers. It loosened its grip because Jesus was already too real in my story to walk away from. If you’re wrestling with doubt today, especially with a wounded faith, you’re not alone. Jesus does not shame honest questions. He gently points us back to what he has already been doing, even when it’s hard to see.

When the Church Moves On Luke 6:27-28 One of the hardest truths I’ve had to face is this: churches that wound often carry on as if nothing happened, while the people they hurt are left suffering deeply and quietly. Services continue. Calendars stay full. Names are changed. The institution survives. Meanwhile, wounded ministers and their families are left trying to make sense of the loss of calling, community, income, and trust. I know, this has been my experience. And it’s right there, in that painful gap between “business as usual” and real human suffering, that Jesus’ words confront me again: “Love your enemies… do good… bless… pray.” Not because the harm was small, and not because the wound should be rushed past, but because Jesus refuses to let injustice and abandonment shape the future of the wounded heart. Walking with wounded ministers has taught me that loving those who caused harm does not mean silence, denial, or pretending everything is fine. It means refusing to let bitterness become the final authority in my life. It means telling the truth, naming the hurt, and still entrusting my heart to Christ. Jesus flips the script, not to protect systems, but to heal people.

When Obedience Doesn’t Make Sense When Jesus asks us to do something that goes against what we know, he is not dismissing our experience; he is inviting us to move from familiarity to true followership. I once preached a sermon from Luke 5:1–11 titled "Familiar with or Follower of Jesus," because Simon knew Jesus well enough to listen but not yet well enough to trust without hesitation. He had fished all night. He knew the water, the timing, the limits. Everything in him said this was pointless. Yet Jesus’ command forced a decision: remain familiar with Jesus’ words, or follow him into obedience. Faith begins where familiarity ends. The deepest breakthroughs often come not from repeating what has already failed, but from trusting Christ when his voice contradicts logic, habit, and exhaustion. Sometimes the call to “put out into the deep” is really a call to move beyond knowing about Jesus and into surrendering to him, and it is there that abundance, transformation, and true discipleship begin. Jesus, there are moments when what you ask of us feels unreasonable, uncomfortable, and even contrary to everything we think we know. We confess that we often trust our experience more than your voice. Teach us to obey even when understanding lags. Give us the courage to put out into the deep when we are tired, uncertain, or afraid of disappointment. Help us trust that your word is enough, and that obedience to you is never wasted. Meet us in the deep places, and shape our faith there. Amen.