Growing in Godliness Through Faithful Examples

By / Jan 20

Discipleship is both taught and caught. We need faithful teachers who open the Scriptures for us and living examples who show us what it looks like to follow Jesus. In Philippians 3:17, Paul exhorts the church, “Join in imitating me, brothers and sisters, and pay careful attention to those who live according to the example you have in us.” His counsel is simple and wise: look around your church, identify ordinary people who embody godliness, and pay close attention to them.

The Christian life is learned in community. We need models of godliness in action. But what kind of examples should we look for, and what kind of example should we aim to be? Here are four traits of ordinary godliness worth noticing and imitating.

Joyful Obedience to God 

Not all obedience is the same. Jesus warns in Matthew 6 against obedience that seeks attention: “Whenever you give to the poor, don’t sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do” (Matt. 6:2). Others obey the way children sometimes obey their parents—grudgingly, simply to avoid punishment.

The examples we imitate should be marked by joyful obedience. Attitude matters. Look for people who serve quietly, put chairs away without being asked, and do so with glad hearts. Scripture says, “Happy are those who keep his decrees and seek him with all their heart” (Ps. 119:2). Godliness is not merely compliance; it is delight.

Fierce Commitment to Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy means right belief, and right belief matters. A church filled with kind people but deliberately corrupted theology is not a godly church. Truth and godliness always belong together.

Paul is clear about this as he entrusts ministry to Timothy: “Hold on to the pattern of sound teaching that you have heard from me… Guard the good deposit through the Holy Spirit who lives in us” (2 Tim. 1:13–14). Godly examples are people who know their Bibles, love sound doctrine, and resolve to hold fast to the gospel.

Love for the Local Church 

Jesus loves the church, and his disciples share that love. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).

Every church is imperfect. Jesus knows this—and still loves his bride. If He can love our churches, then so can we. We should be wary of those who speak constantly and exclusively about their church’s flaws. That posture breeds pride and bitterness. Paul provides a better model. His letters to Corinth contain strong rebuke, yet they are framed by gratitude and affection: “I always thank my God for you” (1 Cor. 1:4), and “My love be with all of you in Christ Jesus” (1 Cor. 16:24). People who love the church help us love Jesus.

Humbly Receiving Correction 

How we receive correction reveals much about our character. Even faithful Christians can drift out of step with the gospel, as Peter did in Antioch (Gal. 2:11–14). God graciously uses correction to restore us.

Sometimes that correction comes through reading our Bible or hearing a sermon. Sometimes over coffee with a friend, or even an innocent conversation with your son. However it comes, receive it with gratitude because it shows that God is caring for me like a father for a son (Heb. 12:7).

I once watched my pastor receive unsolicited feedback between services from a visiting attendee. His sermon—prepared with prayer and care—was being critiqued. A pastor’s sermon is precious to him. He spends all week prayerfully putting it together and now a random visitor was offering correction.

How my pastor responded was a model of receiving correction with humility. He didn’t get defensive or dismissive—he listened well. Even though he didn’t agree with every point, he thanked the visitor for his insight and acknowledged this conversation with gratitude.

Godly people don’t have everything figured out. They are teachable.

Ordinary Godliness, Together

Apart from Jesus, no one is the perfect example. Thankfully, we don’t need perfect models. As others watch us follow Christ in our brokenness, they learn how to follow him in theirs.

This collage of imperfect yet faithful believers—pursuing Christ together—is where ordinary godliness is most clearly seen. Pay attention. Learn from them. And follow Jesus.



Bright Hope for Facing the Unknown

By / Jan 16

In Sickness and in Health

How do I care for my husband when he is sick more than he is well?

I asked myself this question as I sat beside my husband in his hospital room, feeling the weight of living in a sin-cursed world press down on both of us.

Three years into our marriage, this wasn’t what I imagined our life together would look like. On our wedding day, at twenty and twenty-one, the words “in sickness and in health” didn’t feel heavy or serious. They sounded more like promises to fetch cold medicine for sniffles or hand over Tums for an upset stomach.

Most young, healthy couples don’t imagine that these words will be tested in a hospital room just a few years into marriage. Yet there we were, staring at the fleeting reality of life, and I realized I had promised to love and care for my husband “in sickness and in health”—and I had no idea how to do the former.

Facing the Unknown

I had seen my husband sick quite a few times as we served overseas as missionaries in a third-world country. I heard him giving up the entire contents of his stomach on various occasions, and I felt the fever on his forehead as his body fought off a variety of illnesses. Those moments of sickness felt like just that—moments. They passed with the help of antibiotics, fluids, and naps. We were young and living in a third-world country where that kind of sickness was normal. I knew what to do in those moments: give him plenty of water, take him to get more antibiotics, make some light-hearted jokes, and move on.

But when my husband was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease after months of sickness and a week-long hospital stay, I found myself at a loss. This was not a stomach bug or the common cold. This had no easy fix—and still has no easy fix. This was night after night of vomiting, weeks of losing blood and increasing weakness, and waking up in the middle of the night to a pain-ridden, feverish, shaking husband, feeling helpless and afraid. This was spending a week in the hospital trying to figure out why his body was failing him.

Yet I was confronted and comforted by the truths of Isaiah 26:3: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.”

During my husband’s week-long hospital stay, I repeatedly thought, “This isn’t how it was meant to be.” Our hearts felt drawn to despair as we sat in that hospital room, but thankfully, years of hearing and learning the truth about God, his sovereignty, and his promises were in our hearts. Scripture passages about suffering and pain that had been tucked away for a rainy day became real, and we clung to them. God’s Word became a refuge as we faced the unknown.

Steadfastness in Trials

As we faced the unknown, the words of James shone true: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (Jas. 1:2–4).

Steadfastness. Endurance. The Lord gave it in abundance. We made it through days of physical pain and the spiritual pain that comes with watching your best friend suffer. We weren’t expecting my husband to die that week in the hospital, but not knowing what his diagnosis was at the time brought forth a conversation I didn’t think we would have in our twenties. The unknowns were looming over us: How serious is this? Is it curable, or is it terminal?

We were heading for despair, but again, the Lord was kind as years of abiding in his Word bore the fruit of hope. We both knew that even if the worst happened, our hope was secure in Christ. He would faithfully carry us through whatever lay ahead. He did—and he continues to—as we face a future battling a chronic illness.

As my husband and I have been faced with the harsh reality of our finiteness, Paul’s words have been a comfort: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:16–17).

Grieving Properly with Bright Hope for Tomorrow

I just finished reading the Wingfeather Saga for the second time and love how stories we’ve read before can give us fresh insights and emotions during different seasons of life. The youngest character in the story, Leeli, is confronted with the death of her beloved dog, Nugget, and the brokenness of their overall situation. Her brother observes her in her grief and notes, “She seemed older, no longer shocked that such a thing could happen in the world, but heartbroken because it had. Her tears struck Janner as the right kind of tears.”

Later, he notices how their current sufferings were already shaping something good in his sister: “Podo and Leeli finally came back to where the others rested, and though her face still bore the weight of her sorrow, Janner could see that his sister was present. Her eyes didn’t stare into nothing. They saw the situation, grieved for it, and faced it.”

Her tears were right and good. It’s not wrong to grieve what ought to be grieved! Death and suffering were not a part of God’s original design and good creation. Sin brought pain, suffering, and death. So we grieve what God does not call good, but we don’t become stuck in our grief. Like Leeli, we shed the right kind of tears. We grieve, but we face it. And thankfully, as believers, we do not grieve like the world does because we have hope that one day all will be made right. One day, my husband, Brett, will be in eternity with a body that is no longer broken and no longer causes pain and suffering, because his body will be like God intended it to be.

This side of eternity, I seek to care for Brett in sickness by relying on the grace of God to give me the strength to be compassionate and servant-hearted toward him on the hard days. I grieve the loss of health and take that grief before the Lord, knowing that he is the God of all comfort. However, I don’t remain in that grief because the hope of eternity is in my heart. Saying our vows almost nine years ago, I did not think this would be my lot. Even so, it is well with my soul.



How To Repent of Your Insecurity

By / Jan 8

“I know it’s not real, but I’m still afraid.”

My son said this to me as he jumped into my arms when we were walking through a neighborhood full of shockingly creepy Halloween decorations. There was a robotic werewolf wrestling against the bars of a cage, shrouded in haze and flashing lights.

“That’s okay, my son. I’ve still got you.” It warmed my heart; my son is still small enough for me to carry him even though he’s freshly smart enough to articulate his inner life.

Insecurity grasping for security isn’t an emotional experience that we ever truly outgrow. Many experienced followers of Jesus, at every age, grapple with a sense of self that is fractured, unstable, and too easily subjected to circumstances. The stress that ensues steals our sleep, interrupts our relationships, and leads to both over-functioning (anxiety) and under-functioning (depression).

We often try to treat the symptoms without dealing with the root of the issue: our lack of secure connection to our Father in heaven. The insecurity that haunts our psyches is something we ought to seek to repent of—not necessarily the feeling itself, but the underlying unbelief that creates it—rather than make peace with it, treat it as normal or inevitable. Attacking insecurity involves three things: submitting to our status as the Father’s adopted children, operating in integrity in relationship with our siblings, and fighting our fear of man with the fear of the Lord.

Our Status as Adopted Children

Our feelings tell us the truth about how we’re making sense of the world around us. When our house is built on a poor foundation and we see the floods rising, our heart rate spikes, worry pours forth, and panic tears through our once-quiet mind. This disorienting and uncomfortable experience can revel the sad fact that we’ve built our lives not upon Christ, but sinking sands—things like money, the approval of peers, and self-righteousness.

These moments should trigger reflection: upon what—or whom—have I built my life? Where have I placed my confidence? I was feeling secure, but that source of security is now under siege, proving itself to be an illusion. This newfound fragility is, in that sense, sober disillusionment.

Do I believe my Father in Heaven owns the cattle on a thousand hills? Do I really believe I am His irrevocable heir? Do I sincerely believe I’ve been made a child of God by sheer grace? Do I functionally place my hope in the finished work of Jesus and his coming new creation?

I have a friend whose Father is incredibly wealthy. On the one hand, my friend is comforted by this; on the other hand, he hates this. He likes knowing he has no reason to be afraid of financial ruin, but he doesn’t like that he can’t take credit for being a self-made man. There is a holy swagger that looks like a paradox of fearlessness and humility that emerges when we submit to the status our Father has assigned to us as his children. We have everything we need, so we’re secure; and we know we’ve earned none of it, so we’re grateful.

Our insecurity reveals the truth about how secure we are in Christ.

Operating in Integrity

It is one thing to think and believe rightly about our Father in Heaven. It is another to live out that truth in our relationships with our brothers and sisters. Often, insecurity is downstream from a fractured sense of self. We behave one way in public, another in private—acting out one identity at home, another at work, another online, another at the gym, and yet another in the group chat. This fractured and disintegrated self creates anxiety because there is a chronic fear that worlds will collide and embarrassment will ensue.

One of the overlooked “survival response” mechanisms is fawn. We may be familiar with fight, flight, and freeze, but fawn is acting in such a way that we earn the approval of the person who we are looking to for security—especially when we compromise our integrity in doing so. We act out a false self to please others, because our sense of worth depends on theirs. We lie about ourselves with our words and actions to take hold of momentary relief from awkwardness, fear of abandonment, and disapproval.

Stepping towards integration—being an authentic, congruent self in every environment—is painful because it requires confessing our lack of integrity. This is partly why confessing your sin is healing (Jas. 5:16): it bridges separated relational realties and brings what is in the dark into the light. It’s rejecting the temptation to have multiple identities in favor of having one identity, rooted and grounded in love. This is a risk because we might be rejected. But the reward is integrity and the possibility of a genuine relationship in which we’re known and loved, not falsely known and loved. Therein legitimate security is found.

Fighting Fear with Fear

There is much we can fear. Fear is opposed to security because it signals that something we love is being threatened. The solution to fears that create insecurity is not merely to become less fearful, but to fear rightly. “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28). This fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, the starting point for living God’s Word with skill and balance.

When we fear the Lord, we’re aware of his presence and authority. When we learn about the One whom we fear, we find that He is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (Exod. 34:6–7). When we are attuned to the opinions of the gracious and merciful Triune Godhead above all other perspectives, we find that security naturally emerges, because the One who does not change has bestowed on us a dignity, purpose, and value that cannot be shaken.

Jump In

Insecurity isn’t itself sinful, but it is downstream from sin: from living a fractured life, resisting our adopted status given by the Father, and from allowing disordered fears to supersede our fear of God. When we labor to repent of the causes of our insecurity, our sense of self comes into alignment with reality as we embrace a sober, Spirit-filled, and truly integrated identity.

As securely attached children jump into the arms of their fathers when fears arise, so also we lean into the arms of God Most High, whose Spirit assures us of His presence and reminds us not just of who we are, but of whose we are: “That’s okay, my son. I’ve still got you.”



The Gospel Adorned: A Pastoral Meditation for a Post-Christian Age

By / Jan 5

In Titus 1, Paul writes, “for the sake of the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth which accords with godliness, in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began, and at the proper time manifested in his word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior” (Titus 1:1–3).

Pastors, as platitudinous as this sounds—we were made for this moment. We are pastoring in one of the most seismic socio-cultural shifts at scale that the world has ever seen. We are guiding souls across the “new Roman roads” of a global age. Yes, it’s complex, confusing, and exhausting, but the essence of our job description remains, transcending the shifting sands of time—shepherding and feeding the flock, connecting with and confronting cultural narratives, and fulfilling the longings of an unsatisfied age. So it should be impossible to hear this encouragement as overly simplistic, arrogant, or even ignorant. Pastors, we were made for this moment. Let us now consider for a moment how we are to respond.

At the beginning of his letter to Titus, Paul gives a sweeping declaration of who he is and what the Lord has called him to do. He was set to live and lead into his moment in redemptive history. Now pastor, a great confidence should arise from Paul’s words, “before the ages began.” This changes everything about what we do, because it means that our work is woven into a timeless covenant propelled forward by a sending God—three in one—with a plan, an eternal plan to redeem. A missionary God coming to a people, His church, to bring them into His work. And we, pastors, like Paul, get to do what the entire cosmos hangs in the balance upon—preach His Word, “entrusted by command of God our Savior,” with the “grace and peace” given to us in Christ.

Paul goes on in his letter to exhort Titus to teach new believers “to adorn the doctrine of God our Savior” (Titus 2:10). But can something so grand and glorious as the gospel be improved? What does it mean to adorn it? Charles Spurgeon helped get at the question when he said that, “The gospel is best adorned when most unadorned.”[1] We need a little bit more, so maybe a picture from home will illustrate.

My wife has a knack for “urban treasure hunting.” Step into the dim, golden glow of our living room—books and trinkets from around the world—yet nothing stands out more vibrantly than a 19th-century Victorian painting. Meet Bianca, an elegant woman complete in form, substance, and beauty. Yet what allows Bianca’s Victorian majesty to shine is actually the frame: gilded, regal, floral in pattern, perfectly complementary.

The frame doesn’t steal from the glory of the painting; it adorns it.

As we read on we see that this is Paul’s point. Believers are to display its beauty through the way that they live. It is this witness that makes the gospel truly shine. Pastor, let us consider our work of adorning the gospel in three movements—training, waiting, and declaring. And I want to give you a glimpse of how each one of these is at work in a part of the world renowned for its grandeur and indescribable beauty. A place that is spilling over with common grace, set within a meticulously crafted, Baroque-lined frame. Can the doctrine of God our Savior really be adorned in a place like this?

Grace Trains Us

“For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions” (Titus 2:11–12).

Grace has appeared. Grace is a person—Grace is Jesus, who pitched His tent and tabernacled among us (John 1:14).

Grace isn’t a detached gift given by God; grace is personified and He has come to us. This changes everything about our ministry—our preaching, our care of souls, our equipping of the saints. And it is through His training that He is bringing salvation for all people. To put it simply, our work is about displaying His rescue plan by our conduct. And as we labor, emitting the aroma of His love through our joy, mercy toward enemies, integrity, patience, and forgiveness, we show our people that adorning the doctrine of God our Savior is worth giving our lives to. Grace trains.

One living example of grace training a people appears in the 5th Arrondissement of Paris—one of the most consequential neighborhoods in the post-Christian West. A collision course of culture and history—Roman ruins, Baroque-lined streets, an influential university shaping Western thought. A place where the beating drum of expressive individualism finds some of its earliest articulations, where the mantras of our age were formed: “live your truth,” “you do you.” But its allure cannot satisfy.

In 2025, people are tired, lonely, and parched from moral disarray. They need to encounter grace that trains. This is exactly God’s plan for the 5th through the birth of a new evangelical church: L’Eglise de la Montagne. Housed in an old cinema, the training begins on Launch Sunday in full and glorious display. Pastor Philip Moore stands at the entrance, black-rimmed spectacles and warm grin, welcoming guests into a lobby permeated with the sweet smell of pastries and coffee. The theater fills. Praises ascend in French. A handshake between the sending pastor and Philip becomes a vivid reminder that churches plant churches, and that meaningful partnership—sending and receiving—is still the way of mission.

Grace is training a people in Paris. Grace is training a people in your city.

Grace Helps Us Wait

“… waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13).

As Grace trains us and others in godliness, He also helps us wait for our blessed hope. Have you ever considered the divine hardwiring of human beings to long for something beyond this life? Whether we are in Atlanta or Wichita, Phnom Penh, or Cairo, notice how everyone is living toward an end, a telos. Really, it is that everyone is eschatological, yet this longing for final resolve can only be fulfilled in the gospel.

As that old cinema fills up for the first time on launch Sunday in Paris’ famous 5th, Philip preaches to these very longings. A context far and distinct from ours, yet also so near and relatable. The ‘religious anatomy’[2] of humanity expressing the common insatiable search for meaning in this life—all needing to hear how truth, goodness, and beauty, each finds its fullest expression in God through Christ.

In Paris, on this very Sunday, many who have never heard the gospel listen intently as this news begins to shape their imagination with an invitation to enter His story through repentance and faith. They can now know what they are waiting for: the blessed hope of their salvation, Jesus.

There is a hopeful sense that a new day is dawning for the advance of the gospel in Paris. Protestants of old were persecuted nearly to extinction on these very streets. Calvin’s unrealized vision for France to be flooded with new churches comes to mind.[3] A small, yet resilient community of pastors and their churches waiting in hopeful anticipation that the beauty of Christ will soon burst forth from arrondissement to arrondissement, and even better, He will appear again.

Pastors worldwide, we all know this waiting—this longing for Christ to come again, for His glory to renew our cities, and for His hope to strengthen our people. Grace helps us to wait with hope. The kind of waiting we are called to is proactive. It is individual and corporate; it is patient and urgent. It adorns the gospel in visible display as we gather and scatter.

Grace Authorizes Our Declaration

Paul says the gospel was “manifested in His word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted” (Titus 1:3). He instructs believers to adorn the doctrine (2:10) and Titus, a pastor, to declare the gospel (2:15). Declaring Christ also adorns the doctrine.

In Paris, the declaration looks like a cinema transformed into a sanctuary. Music begins, and praises rise in French. Philip’s sermon on truth, goodness, and beauty declares Christ’s supremacy.[4] The people of Paris hear the good news echo into their historic streets. Pastor, whether you are in a traditional sanctuary on Sunday morning, gathering at a storefront, meeting in a living room, a school, or an old warehouse, you get to declare that He “gave Himself for us to redeem us… and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good works” (2:14).

Pastor, we were made for this moment. Adorning the doctrine of God our Savior is the mission. Grace appeared, grace trains, grace helps us to wait with hope until Christ appears again, and grace empowers us to declare. That means that there is hope for Paris, our town, and our city.

May we adorn the doctrine of God our Savior until that day.

The work of adorning the gospel continues in cities around the world. See it in action in this documentary: Watch now.

[1] Spurgeon, Charles H. “Adorning the Gospel.” Sermons vol. 18 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1872), 377.

[2] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 27.

[3] Michael A. G. Haykin, “John Calvin’s Missionary Influence in France,” Reformation and Revival 10, no. 4 (2001): 41–42. Haykin notes that by 1562 more than 2,000 Protestant churches had been planted in France, many through the efforts of Geneva trained missionaries under Calvin’s global vision of gospel advance.

[4] From his launch sermon at L’Église de la Montagne, Philip Moore described the church’s vision this way: “We want to be … a church in the 5th arrondissement, for the 5th arrondissement; a church where everyone can encounter God through Jesus Christ; a church where we live out the three values we have chosen for our church: truth, beauty, and goodness. We believe that when we understand the truth about God, we see him as he is—perfect beauty and goodness—and that this experience allows us to live out truth, beauty, and goodness in our everyday lives.”



Rejoicing in the Light Amid the Night

By / Dec 12

There is a memory that will forever be ingrained in mine and my wife’s story. Within the past year, my wife and I became foster parents and received our first placement—a sweet two-year-old girl. Our connection with her was immediate. Within a day of picking her up from the hospital, it felt like she was our own child.

Nevertheless, it was God’s kind providence that led to the phone call that all foster parents dread but expect: they were coming to pick her up to take her to be with family.

The grief was immediate and deep. How do you just let a child you have grown to love go? Regardless of our desires, the time came, the social worker arrived, and against every fiber in us, we put that little girl in a car seat, never to be seen by us again.

And we wept—we wept long, and we wept hard. To this day, when I think of her, it moves me deeply.

When the soul is drowning, to what can it cling that is buoyant enough to keep it afloat? In those days of darkness, I found myself reflecting on the Preacher’s words in Ecclesiastes 11:7–8. They have held my hand as my wife and I have learned what it means to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10) in the wake of our first child’s departure.

These verses invite us to look honestly and soberly at both the sweetness of life’s light and the certainty of its darkness. I invite you to reflect with me on what it means to bathe in the light as the sun dips below the horizon and the shadows of evening begin to gather:

“Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. For if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many” (Ecc. 11:7–8).[1]

  1. Bathe in the Light

It’s a beautiful verse, but what does it mean that light is sweet? In Ecclesiastes, light is the gracious revelation and manifestation of God’s goodness in a dark and broken world (2:13–14; 11:7–8). “Light” is not something meant to remain abstract—it is the very grace of God that warms the heaven-bound soul as they undoubtedly trek through many long, cold, and lonely evenings. It is something that can be held onto, whether physically or spiritually—it can be noticed, received, and remembered.

The light for my wife and me are the evenings of cuddles as we watched Bluey with our little girl and our shared laughter as she would get the “zoomies” before bed. The light was watching this child from an unbelieving family learn the rhythms of song and prayer.

There is much light elsewhere in my life. My wedding day. Reconciling with family members after years of relational tension. Brunch dates. Time in the Word and prayer where I feel intimate with the Lord and on fire for his mission.

Cling to the days of light, friends, and call them to mind often. Cling to the days where you can grab God’s goodness, receive its warmth and comfort, and go to bed with a smile and a happy heart. For as God gifts days of light, he also gifts another type of day in his providence: “the days of darkness will be many.”

  1. Accept the Night

The night is often long and cold. However, one of the first truths I had to learn to stomach before feeling the light again is that the night is not necessarily a bad thing. Notice that the Preacher does not condemn the days of darkness; he simply states, “the days of darkness will be many,” and this is something you should remember when experiencing the light.

The events that bring “the days of darkness” certainly can be caused by sinful origins, and that should not be ignored, but that does not mean everything about it is to be despised.

Rather, it is essential that we learn from the great sufferers of the faith who are able to say things like, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21), and, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good…” (Gen. 50:20).

Such is the wisdom of the Preacher, and such should be the disposition of the sufferer. The darkness is often painful, but when the righteous sufferer resigns himself or herself to the sovereign goodness of our God in all things, a context is created wherein light can be felt again—and the darkness becomes the backdrop that magnifies the great graces and gifts of our good God.

  1. Rejoice in the Light Amid the Night

Light is not only a blessing in the day; it becomes essential when night falls.

Following the opening declaration that light is sweet, the Preacher provides a foundational reason—signaled by the word “for” (rendered in the ESV as “so”)—why the light is sweet. Light is sweet precisely because life contains both stretches of joy and many days of darkness, and the ability to delight in the light is grounded in holding the two together—not their separation.

The Preacher is not offering a simple cause-and-effect: “Light is sweet… so rejoice!” That would treat joy as automatic and ignore the reality of darkness. Rather, he explains, “Light is sweet… for God gives years worth rejoicing in even though many dark ones will come.” The sweetness of light is meaningful because it exists alongside the days of darkness, and rejoicing is grounded in God’s providence of both days, not just in the days of light.

The sweetness of light is not naïve of life’s brutal realities, nor is rejoicing dependent on days of light; the tension between the sweetness of light and pain of darkness is meant to be held together for the explicit purpose that the days of darkness highlight the sweetness of the light.

You are right to rejoice in every day and year that God gives—for he really does give many good ones, even though darkness is a part of the package.

So when the sun drops beneath the horizon and the bitter cold of night begins to bite at you, hold the moments of light near, for these are the very means and graces of God ordained to sustain you and provide warmth when you can no longer see.

The evenings of laughter are not meant to make you collapse when they end—they are meant to remind you that God is good all the time, even when it doesn’t feel like it. They remind you that night is temporary. The same sun that sank beneath the horizon will rise again—dawn is as certain as dusk.

Cling to the days of health, joy, and intimacy with God, fellow church members, your children, and any other that God might bring across your path, for seasons of sickness, sadness, and loneliness will surely come. When they come, remember the graces and gifts of the past—for their sweetness will return again. It may not be tomorrow, but if you are in Christ, his light will dawn on you for an eternity. Therefore, we hope and do not despair.

[1] Most English translations render the Hebrew particle, ki, in v. 8 as “so,” but the word more commonly introduces an explanation or grounding (“for”). The Preacher is not drawing a conclusion (“so rejoice”) but giving the reason why light is sweet (“for God gives many good years even though dark ones will come”).



Wisdom Rarely Makes You Famous

By / Dec 5

I know many Christians who want to live wisely—and I do too. The rich tradition woven throughout the Old Testament calls us to embody the fear of the Lord in a way that transforms us into wise people. This is all great . . .  when it “works.” That is, when we get the promotion, gain respect at church, and receive the podcast invitation. But we live in a fallen world, and both Ecclesiastes and C.S. Lewis remind us of the subtle dangers of living for recognition and praise. Wisdom is a noble and right pursuit, but we should not be shocked when it doesn’t earn us recognition or prestige.

In 1944, C.S. Lewis delivered a lecture at King’s College, University of London. The talk he delivered to a group of young college students has become a famous address entitled “The Inner Ring.” In it Lewis states:

“I believe that in all men’s lives at certain periods, and in many men’s lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside.”

In a stroke of religious and psychological brilliance, Lewis unpacks with arresting clarity the deep desires of the human heart to be loved, included, regarded, listened to, and accepted into the various “inner rings” of our lives—from friends, to co-workers, to politics, and even church. The temptation to live life striving to be accepted by our peers or our community can become an all-controlling feature of life. The desire for the inner ring is real. So, what does Lewis propose as an answer? Wisdom and work.

“The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters. You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it.”

Lewis here describes work done with skill and focus. This is not the path of self-promotion or maneuvering, but of wisdom and skill that warrants praise. The death of the desire to be in the inner circle is to pursue skill and wisdom with diligence, and Ecclesiastes 9–10 help us see why this is necessary: wisdom rarely makes a person famous.

Wisdom is Greater than Might

Ecclesiastes 9:13–18 tells a fascinating—albeit commonly overlooked—little story about a poor, wise man who delivered a city through his wisdom. This little story is one of my favorites in the book. There is something profound and strikingly realistic about the poetic justice of a great king with great siege-works being overtaken by the skill of a poor man in a little town by his wisdom. There is really no way to know what historical event the Teacher is describing, nor does it really matter. The point here is that wisdom has the power to protect and deliver. And this is a point for us to reflect upon: Do we believe true wisdom can protect and deliver? We live in a culture full of “shouting fools” (9:17), but do we believe that wisdom is greater than volume? Wisdom does not believe that the end justifies the means, but that the way we live shapes the end—the path of wisdom leads to life and deliverance.

The old man in the story is not celebrated or remembered (apart from this account in Ecclesiastes). He did not become the ruler, his name was not passed along, and he did not get a statue commemorating his accomplishment. One of the main ideas in these verses is that in a fallen world, we should not expect wisdom to be celebrated. But does this lack of recognition make his efforts in vain? No, he delivered the city! But he did not receive praise, glory, or honor. We live in a culture that sees shows of power and aggression as supreme, and wisdom as a waste of time. Wisdom is indeed greater than might, but don’t expect the mighty to admit it. The subtlety of wisdom is its own reward, and the wise know it.

Foolishness is Powerful

The Teacher of Ecclesiastes instructs us that another reason wisdom does not always get the recognition it deserves is because foolishness can reside in high places (10:5). In 10:1–11, the Teacher argues that while wisdom can deliver and is truly more powerful than weapons of war, foolishness also has its own ability to spoil things—like a dead fly in perfume!

This is true, right? How many headlines have we read where a life of good deeds was destroyed by a few moments of folly? Forty years of a virtuous career can be ended by one illegal decision. Foolish decisions have powerful consequences.

But folly not only has power because of its consequences; it is also powerful because of its ability to deceive. Ecclesiastes 10:3 describes an individual walking, lacking sense, and saying to everyone he is a fool. The passage is a bit ambiguous, but the idea is that either through his own words or actions he reveals he is a fool to all around him. The great power and irony of foolishness is that it is most often unobserved by those who display it most proudly.

In our current culture that values power, strength, shock value, and control, do not think that because folly hangs out in high places it is permissible—or benign. The Teacher explains that it will destroy a life… and a little goes a long way. There is no sin beyond the grace and forgiving power of the gospel, but talk to any longtime Christian, and they’ll tell you that being forgiven doesn’t mean that the consequences and memories of sin disappear. Wisdom recognizes the power of foolishness and counters it with a deep desire to walk in the paths of wisdom.

Go After Jesus, not the Inner Ring

In an Ecclesiastes-like fashion, Lewis warns of the vanity in pursuing the recognition of the inner ring:

As long as you are governed by that desire you will never get what you want. You are trying to peel an onion: if you succeed there will be nothing left. Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.

In Ecclesiastes, fools desire what they cannot have. Refusing to recognize the temporariness of this world, they seek ultimate fulfillment in things that cannot give it. In Lewis’s analogy, fools spend their lives peeling onions, only to find themselves empty-handed in the end.

Wisdom does not live for the inner ring, but for something more substantial. Ecclesiastes explains to us the power of wisdom and the disproportionate praise it receives in this world. But, like the Teacher of Old Testament wisdom, our Lord Jesus also calls us to a path of wisdom and virtue that is often not celebrated in this life. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us:

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. (Matt. 7:24–27)

It is amazing how difficult and strange Ecclesiastes can feel at times, and yet how similar the message is to Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. The first temptation of the serpent in the Garden of Eden was, “Did God really say….” The temptation to stray from God’s word continues through every generation. Wisdom is not crowd-sourcing. Wisdom is not trying to guess what the next big thing will be before everyone else. Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord and building our lives upon his words. Wisdom believes that God’s instructions are good and life-giving, even though wisdom rarely gets a trophy.



Trusting God When He Seems Behind

By / Dec 1

Ten years ago, I was working at a job I thought was meaningless. I was twenty-three, engaged, and hoping to enter pastoral ministry. The Lord led me to become a member of a healthy church in my college town. I aspired to be a pastor but wanted to serve faithfully as a church member while taking some seminary courses online. I observed the lives of our three pastors, took opportunities to teach, helped set up for Sunday services, and led a Bible study for college-aged young men.

Two years later, my wife and I moved to Kansas City for seminary. I was twenty-six, sitting in class with many young twenty-somethings, and I felt behind in ministry because I had never served in a vocational church role.

As a twenty-six-year-old, I noticed friends starting families, purchasing their first homes, or beginning their first pastorates—and I felt left behind. Being in a seminary bubble, you see God work in individuals’ lives, calling them to serve churches at a young age or in ministry contexts immediately after graduation. I was thankful for my role in our church, even though it was only part-time. It was a paid ministry position, but before long, I found myself dwelling on the fact that I was not a pastor. In my selfish, fleshly mind, I thought God was behind—that He was not doing for me what He was doing for others, and they were much younger than I was.

Friends, whether you are in ministry or not, we can be tempted to think our sovereign, all-knowing, governing Lord is behind in placing us where we want to be. Here are three encouragements for those who struggle with contentment in the here and now.

Remember: God Is Always at Work

In a viral tweet, John Piper stated, “God is always doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may be aware of three of them.” For those in Christ, knowing that God governs your life should be the most peaceful news. Jeremiah 10:23 says, “LORD, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps.” God is always at work in our lives, guiding and directing our steps. Most of the time this is a mystery we spend long periods worrying about, but we are told in Matthew 6:34, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

People often say hindsight is 20/20—and providence proves this to be true. There are ways God is working for my good that I am completely unaware of. My knowledge is limited because I do not stand outside of time, but God does, and I take comfort in this. While here on earth, God may seem behind according to the timeline we want. We have ideas of what our life will be like in five years, but God alone has true and complete knowledge of this. That is why we can trust His timing and be content where He has given us opportunities to serve Him, whether in a local church or a nine-to-five job.

I worked many odd-and-end jobs that God used to provide for the next steps He had for me. We may never understand the purpose of God’s present placement in our lives. I never understood why I worked at a pantyhose factory while taking seminary courses online. Looking back, God was shaping me for service in His church. Human beings are meant to have limited knowledge, and that limitation should direct our gaze to the One who knows all things.

Trust: His Timing Is Not a Mistake

I can’t help but think of John 11 and the two grieving sisters who were convinced Jesus was behind. When Lazarus grew ill, they sent word to Jesus—yet He stayed two days longer. By the time He arrived in Bethany, Lazarus was dead, and both Martha and Mary said the same thing: “Lord, if you had been here…” To them, Jesus was late, operating on His own timeline instead of theirs.

But Jesus knew exactly what He was doing. Martha’s faith is shown in her words, “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” Yet even she didn’t grasp that the One standing before her was “the resurrection and the life.” They were not prepared for the glory He was about to reveal.

Jesus didn’t send a messenger ahead to reassure them. He didn’t heal Lazarus instantly from a distance, as He had done for others. He waited. Why? Belief. He delayed so that His disciples—and these beloved sisters—would see more clearly who He is. His apparent slowness was actually purposeful love.

And isn’t that our struggle? We often assume God is behind on the healing, behind on the provision, behind on the rescue. But what if He is holding back because we are not yet ready for what He intends to show us? What if, like the father in Mark 9, we are meant to cry out, “I believe; help my unbelief”?

What would it do to our faith if God revealed everything He was doing in our lives?

Rest: Trusting in God’s Timing

Throughout my path to pastoral ministry, these Scriptures on waiting have steadied my heart:

  • Psalm 27:14 – “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
  • Psalm 37:7 – “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!”
  • Psalm 130:5 – “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope…”
  • Proverbs 20:22 – “Do not say, ‘I will repay evil’; wait for the Lord, and he will deliver you.”
  • Isaiah 8:17 – “I will wait for the Lord… and I will hope in him.”
  • Isaiah 30:18 – “The Lord waits to be gracious to you… blessed are all those who wait for him.”

Now, at thirty-three, serving as an Associate Pastor in Arkansas, married nine years with three little girls who fill our home with life, I look back and see the Lord’s fingerprints all over my story. Every challenge, obstacle, and unexpected turn was preparing me for what He had called me to. I’m still on that journey, but one truth has become unmistakably clear: trusting His providence always leads to good—even when the road feels slow.

Lamentations 3:25 declares, “The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.” That is my counsel to the aspiring pastor, to the single young man longing for a wife, to the college student eager for the mission field.

God is not behind. Wait for Him.



Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?

By / Nov 24

Maybe this question echoes faintly in the back of your mind. Perhaps it slips in unnoticed as sorrow fills your heart and quickly becomes something to dwell on. Even if this question has never consumed you, my guess is that you’ve asked it before. It’s a functional rite of passage for those interested in apologetics or taught in the school of suffering. Maybe you haven’t asked it out loud, but you’ve likely felt the tension of this question: Why do bad things happen to good people?

“No one is good but God.” Perhaps you can even hear that answer. It’s how we tend to respond to this question, isn’t it? We point to Jesus, the perfect God-man who died for our sins, reiterating that there are no good people and that all of us deserve the judgment of God.

And this is correct. Paul tells us in Romans 3 that no one is righteous. Everyone has sinned. Sin incurs the wrath of God, and if everyone has sinned, then we all deserve the judgment of God.

People die because of sin. Judgment happens because of evil. Bad things happen because God is just.

And yet, even as I affirm this answer in its entirety, two passages in the Bible have reshaped how I view this question.

The Mystery of Justice

The first passage is Genesis 18. In this passage, God promises to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah for their wickedness. Abraham, knowing that his nephew Lot lives in Sodom, intercedes with God.

“Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” he opens (18:23).

What could perhaps be taken as innocent curiosity soon begins to show its true colors: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city. Will you then sweep away the place and not spare it for the fifty righteous who are in it?” (18:24).

Abraham believes that the entire city of wickedness should be spared on account of a few righteous. His question borders on assuming the answer: “Of course God would spare the whole city on behalf of the righteous.” The next verse tells us why.

Abraham continues in 18:25, “Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?”

Abraham isn’t accusing God of being unjust. He’s saying that because God is just, he can’t wipe away the righteous with the wicked. It would be unjust to do so, and this is why Abraham seemingly assumes the answer in his question. But, of course, Abraham is merely a man, and we see examples throughout Scripture of people who have skewed perspectives.

Yet, I don’t think Abraham has a skewed perspective here. For one, far from rebuking Abraham for his strong words, God promises that he will not destroy the whole city if he finds fifty righteous, seemingly indicating his agreement with Abraham (18:26). Additionally, Lot—whom Peter calls righteous (2 Pet. 2:7)—is indeed saved by God from the destruction of Sodom. Finally, Abraham never repents, nor does the narrative ever seem to critique Abraham’s words. By all accounts, Abraham’s words seem to be true: the righteous should not be punished alongside the wicked.

The passage leaves Abraham ignorant of the outcome. God’s departing promise is that he will not destroy the city if ten righteous people are present in it. The next time we see Abraham is in Genesis 19:27, where he goes up the mountain to speak with God and watches smoke rise from the ashes of Sodom. We have no record in Scripture of him meeting Lot again, no promise from God that Lot would be spared. Amid the mystery, Abraham is left with his faith in a just God. Abraham may not know that Lot survived. He may not know why God chose to destroy the city even with Lot there. But he does know that God is just and faithful, even when it seems like bad things might happen to good people.

The Mystery of Death

The second passage that speaks to this question is Ecclesiastes 8:14, where Solomon writes, “There is an enigma[1] that takes place on earth, that there are righteous people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the wicked, and there are wicked people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the righteous. I said that this also is enigma.”

The context reveals that Solomon is speaking of death. Here, like Abraham, Solomon wrestles with the mystery of the death of the righteous. How can this happen? How can the wicked survive in all their sin while the righteous die what seems to be the sinner’s death, despite their righteousness? How can bad things happen to righteous people?

Solomon doesn’t give us answers. Quite the opposite, in fact. He tells us that regardless of how hard we try, we will not find out all that God is doing in the world (8:17). We know he is still talking about the death of the righteous because he returns to this subject in 9:2, telling us again that “the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil,” that is, death. He doubles down, saying, “This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all” (9:3).

Solomon, writing inspired words of Scripture, tells us that the same death happening to both the righteous and the wicked is not only mysterious, but evil.

Assurance Greater Than Answers

When people come to us with questions of theodicy, seeking to understand how a good God could allow bad things to happen to people he saved, we can tend to be dismissive. We rightly cast focus onto Christ who, though innocent, suffered on our behalf, all the while unintentionally dodging the very question Scripture itself asks.

But when we come to Scripture with this question, it doesn’t blink. “You are asking the right question,” comes the reply from its pages. It gives us some answers—enabling salvation, producing holiness, refining faith—but much is left a mystery. It is a mystery why God causes bad and good to fall both on the righteous and unrighteous, but it is not a mystery that God does it.

Perhaps that’s scary for you. You know God as a comforter, not a pain-giver, and the thought of him knowingly causing bad things to happen is uncomfortable. But to you, my friend, I say this: God is a good God. He is sovereign and in control, and that’s a very good thing. We don’t always know why God brings bad upon the good, but we know that he is always just, and he will ultimately more than make up for anything we’ve lost or any pain we’ve felt.

This makes all the difference.

So often when bad things happen, we turn to Scripture with our questions. We want answers, but instead we find promises. Promises of eternal life, of pain becoming a thing of the past, of wrongs made right, and of justice that will be done. And this means that even in the enigma of pain and suffering, even in the mystery of bad things happening to righteous people, we don’t have to fear.

You don’t always know what God is doing in your life. But he does. So you can trust him.

[1] I understand the Hebrew term hebel, often translated “vanity,” to refer more accurately to “mystery.” See Jason S. DeRouchie, “Shepherding Wind and One Wise Shepherd: Grasping for Breath in Ecclesiastes,” The Southern Baptist Journal of Theology 15.3 (2011): 4–25.



Changing a Church’s Culture: 3 Essential Factors

By / Nov 19

How does a church create a healthy, biblical culture? No church wakes up one morning known for evangelism or its thriving young adult program. Some aspects of a church’s culture depend on its context—the urban church will have a different makeup than the rural church. But much of a church’s culture is shaped by what it consumes, celebrates, and is intentional about.

You Are What You Eat

No doubt you have heard this expression before. It is used to encourage healthy eating so as to make one healthy. This is also true for the local church: the church will become what it “eats.” What does your church consume the most? The sermon? Missionary testimonies? Culture-warrior diatribes? Political debate?

If we audited the average church’s ministries and services, we might be surprised to find that what they “eat” is mostly sides and desserts. Imagine Thanksgiving dinner. I love mac and cheese, dressing, and mashed potatoes as much as the next guy. But isn’t the turkey what makes Thanksgiving special?

Sides shouldn’t overshadow the entrée at Thanksgiving. Sunday morning, like Thanksgiving, is special in large part because of the entrée—the Word. When we prioritize the sides and desserts, which aren’t bad in themselves, we miss out on what makes the meal truly substantive. A church is what it eats, and if we want the church to be special, we ought to prioritize consuming that which makes it special.

You Are What You Celebrate

I have heard the essence of this expression a number of times. “Celebration” doesn’t necessarily mean cheering or giving a standing ovation for a particular topic. It can simply mean what is most positively talked about in your church. Your church will become what you celebrate.

It is easy to become the church that celebrates ________. What dominates your announcements time? What is most discussed at the church business meeting? What are the “wins” mentioned in staff meetings—attendance, giving, visitors, community outreach events, baptisms, new discipleship groups?

Many churches celebrate the “sides” mentioned earlier, and their culture begins to reflect it. They become the church of missions, or young people, or amazing kids’ programs, and so on. Churches that celebrate the ministries God has given them are in no way wrong, but how does that same church speak about the Word? Is time in the Word spoken of positively?

You Are What You’re Intentional About

I first heard this expression spoken of in reference to the University of Texas football team. Over the last few seasons, they had been known for losing close games late in the fourth quarter. So, they became very intentional in practice about making the last 30 minutes or so the most intense and focused part of the entire session. They focused specifically on late-game situations, and it paid dividends.

This principle is no less true of churches. Perhaps the most obvious example is the common Wednesday night prayer meeting. After a potluck dinner, those gathered sit down to hear a 15 to 20-minute sermon, followed by prayer requests.

Of the requests, 95% are for health-related concerns. Of the praise reports, another 95% focus on positive health updates. Whether by conviction or coincidence, many churches are intentional about praying for health-related concerns, and it shows during their prayer meetings.

Praying for health-related concerns is not bad in itself. At my own church’s prayer meeting, we regularly pray for physical ailments. But we also want to be intentional about praying for the many other things that God cares about, particularly the Word. So, we intentionally pray for the preaching of the Word at our church and other sister churches, as well as for our own desire to hear the Word. Intentionality goes a long way.

Changing a Culture

Many churches and pastors wonder how they can change their church’s culture or reputation. Surface-level changes may occur with a new logo or an influx of young people who prefer a certain style of music. A critical way to change a church’s culture from unhealthy to healthy is by changing what they eat, celebrate, and are intentional about.

  1. Feed Your People God’s Word

How can a church eat God’s Word? Change your diet. Add in fruits and vegetables and remove the extra calories. Ensure your services are filled with God’s Word so that your people leave full and satisfied. Many people leave church “full” the same way they leave a plate of cookies—they are stuffed, but quickly realize they are uncomfortably full. Fill your service with God’s Word so that your people leave full, and because it isn’t junk food, they will leave satisfied.

  1. Celebrate God’s Word

How can a church celebrate God’s Word? Simply put, make sure time in God’s Word is positively spoken about. I have seen churches that, despite having a dedicated sermon time (perhaps even a whole hour!), don’t celebrate that moment. Talk to members, and you can quickly discover whether they celebrate God’s Word or merely tolerate it until they move on to things they like more. Pastors have a tremendous ability to teach the church how to celebrate God’s Word. Speak positively about the preaching moment before your sermon. Speak positively about it even when you’re not scheduled to preach. Model what it looks like to sit under a sermon with a positive attitude.

  1. Be Intentional About God’s Word

How can a church be intentional about God’s Word? A dedicated sermon time with little to no other mention of God’s Word will work against intentionality. The healthy churches I’ve had the privilege of being part of intentionally placed scripture readings throughout the worship service. Beyond Sunday gatherings, they were intentional about keeping the Word at the center of lunch tables, staff meetings, discipleship groups, men’s ministry, mom’s Bible study, and so on. Churches that are intentional about the Word become centered on the Word.

A church that is serious about eating, celebrating, and being intentional about God’s Word will become a Word-centered church. If you want to change the culture of your church, consider intentionally changing both their diet and their celebrations.



Preaching That Connects: Why Delivery Matters More Than You Think

By / Nov 17

The Overlooked Art of Delivery

Delivering a sermon is an aspect of preaching that often receives insufficient attention. Much of this stems from the reality that pastors rightly do not wish to focus on entertaining their congregation. Rather, a pastor seeks to glorify the Lord, who uses the “foolishness of preaching” (1 Cor. 1:21) to spiritually nourish his people. Yet, effective sermon delivery can enhance this impact. Most people can learn to speak dynamically, but doing so on the Lord’s Day without theologically sound or edifying content is a mistake preachers must avoid.

No matter how much importance one places on compelling sermon delivery, failing to maintain a congregation’s interest—or speaking primarily to entertain—poses significant problems. Unfortunately, too often, pastors give little thought to delivery until they step into the pulpit. How, then, should a pastor approach improving delivery, and how can he balance content with the act of delivering it effectively?

Not every pastor is a dynamic or gifted orator. But, as Spurgeon noted, “It is not the work of a shepherd to strike his sheep, but to feed them.”[1] Pastors are called to be attentive to how the Word is exposited and proclaimed so that a sermon spiritually nourishes the congregation. Elements of delivery—emphasis, rate, volume, tone, and non-verbal cues—reveal the pastor’s heart and are essential to an impactful sermon. These concepts can, however, be overlooked because a pastor doesn’t want to appear all show and no substance. What, then, are some faithful reasons for considering improvements in delivery?

  1. Poor Delivery Distracts a Congregation

Everyone has heard preaching that could be delivered more effectively. This is not always a result of poor exegesis. Sometimes, a preacher’s communication habits distract, bore, or detract from the message of God’s Word—and no pastor wants that.

  1. Every Sermon Is a Matter of Life or Death

A faithful pastor preaches Christ and Christ crucified—the message that saves souls—and learning to convey this truth is worthy of every pastor’s effort. Preaching God’s Word well is essential (2 Tim. 4:2), and effectively communicating the Word is a central element of the gathering on the Lord’s Day. A pastor must engage his congregation in a way that keeps them attentive to God’s Spirit—something that is strengthened by dynamic delivery. When a pastor proclaims God’s Word with clear and compelling delivery, the gospel  is more likely to resonate in the hearts of the congregation.

  1. Delivery Demonstrates the Word at Work in the Preacher

The weight of preaching led Spurgeon to observe, “Preaching has often driven me to my knees, and chained me to my Bible.”[2] Compelling delivery helps a congregation perceive the pastor’s sincerity, while the pastor’s ethos connects him with the congregation and the congregation with God. When a pastor has internalized the sermon’s content and written God’s Word on his heart, the congregation can see this and be moved by it—an effect often achieved through sermon delivery.

  1. God’s Word Deserves Powerful Delivery.

Powerful delivery reminds a congregation of the power of God in His word. Yet effective delivery begins with a pastor internalizing a passage and guiding the congregation to think deeply about the God of the Word. Because the gospel has impacted the pastor personally, the pathos of the sermon is conveyed with the conviction of one transformed by God’s Word. Rather than drawing attention to the sermon itself, compelling delivery displays the saving power of Christ.

How to Improve Sermon Delivery

So, how can a pastor improve delivery in a way that allows the congregation to focus on God’s Word?

  1. Practice the Sermon

Be thoroughly familiar with your manuscript or outline, and ensure the sermon is carefully planned and rehearsed.

  1. Preach to Yourself

Enter the sanctuary before Sunday, stand behind the pulpit, and preach either the introduction or the entire sermon. This practice encourages reflection on how God’s Word resonates in your own heart. In this act, God often works uniquely and powerfully within the pastor’s heart. And one never knows who might be present in the audience, even when it seems the sanctuary is empty.

  1. Invite Feedback

Invite a young aspiring pastor or a retired pastor from the congregation to listen to part of a sermon rehearsal or provide feedback on a section of the manuscript. This creates an opportunity to mentor—or be mentored. Every pastor can use sermon rehearsal time as a moment for discipleship. Moreover, the person invited will sense the significance of their role, recognizing this as a chance to contribute to ministry on the Lord’s Day by helping enhance the sermon’s impact.

  1. Watch or Listen to Your Sermon

It is difficult for most pastors to listen to or watch their own sermons, yet doing so is highly beneficial. Every preacher needs an honest critic, and as the adage goes, “You are your own worst critic.” By observing a sermon they have delivered, a preacher can notice elements that others might miss. Both effective and ineffective practices can be identified by watching a video of—or listening to—one’s own sermon.

  1. Revisit Public Speaking Basics

Review the primary components of effective public speaking. Look through an old textbook or notes for the essential elements of strong delivery, considering aspects such as volume, pace, eye contact, hand gestures, tone, poise, and skills learned in a Public Speaking class that may have been forgotten. A pastor can gain valuable insight into improving sermon delivery by reflecting on how one enhances public speaking. While a speech and a sermon are different, many of the same principles apply.

  1. Learn from Other Preachers

Spurgeon noted, “Study successful models. I made Whitefield my model years ago. Buy his sermons.”[3] Even the Prince of Preachers studied diligently to improve his sermon delivery—not to gain an audience, but to magnify Christ. Few things speak to a congregation as powerfully as a pastor’s love for God’s Word, expressed with passion and conviction.

[1] W.Y. Fullerton, Charles Haddon Spurgeon: A Biography (Chicago: Moody Press, 1996), 221.

[2] Ibid., 220.

[3] Ibid., 221.