Gospel-Centered Resources from Midwestern Seminary
Here’s a fun one! Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss what books they’d want with them if they were castaways on a deserted island. Ronni mainly wants to know how many he can bring. Jared wants to not overthink the question. The guys share books and authors and genres that would make their exile from civilization more enjoyable, survivable, and spiritual.
A few years ago, I spoke with a college senior about his recent conversion from Evangelicalism to Catholicism. One of the reasons he gave was the reverence he witnessed during Mass. Many other young adults share his sentiment and have acted similarly.[1] Their departure offers a helpful critique of what is lacking in many churches today.
The Holy Scriptures provide tangible principles—drawn from key events—that church leaders can use to foster reverence every Sunday morning. Two such passages are Isaiah’s vision of God in the temple and the high priest’s duties on the Day of Atonement.
In Isaiah 6, the prophet recounts his encounter with the Almighty. He describes God sitting on a “lofty and exalted” throne—a seat built for a monarch. Its elevated position signifies God is above all earthly rulers in power and authority. Likewise, the “train of his robe … [which] filled the temple” displays the extent of His royal dominion. In the ancient world, a king’s conquests were represented by portions of the conquered kings’ robes sewn to his own robe. A train long enough to fill the temple communicates that this Monarch’s authority is worldwide.
Another striking image is the seraphim who stand above the Lord. Despite being great in power and physical presence, their subservience to the Lord highlights how great His power and majesty are compared to theirs. Isaiah’s immediate response to this display of God’s monarchical glory is telling: he confesses his desperate state and uncleanness. Confronted with divine holiness, he is undone.
Leviticus 16 describes the high priest’s preparation and duties on behalf of himself and the Israelites. First, he bathed his body, and then dressed in prescribed linen garments: undergarments, a coat, a sash, and a turban. He proceeded to offer specific sacrifices according to God’s command. Each animal type served a distinct purpose. For example, a bull was killed for the sin offering, and its blood was placed on the mercy seat and on the altar.
The sacrificial system communicated to Israel that entering into the Sovereign’s presence and beholding His holiness was an extreme honor and a weighty matter. The author of Hebrews explains that these practices were shadows of a greater reality—the heavenly “throne room” and and the once-for-all priestly work of Christ. The earthly rituals, he writes, were “copies of the true things.”
From Isaiah’s experience, we learn that being in God’s presence is humbling. His confession, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips; my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts,” flows from the staggering enormity of the Almighty he saw. The appropriate response to such purity is awareness and confession of one’s own sinfulness.
From the high priest’s duties, we learn that being in God’s presence is sobering. He followed meticulous, sacrificial preparations and directives so God would be pleased and His wrath averted. The event’s seriousness was also reflected in the priest’s attire, which pointed to purity and righteousness (Rev. 19:8)—realities that find their fullness in Jesus, the “great high priest” (Heb. 4:14). This emphasis on purity was further seen in the command to bathe before offering sacrifices. With his life on the line, the high priest demonstrated reverence by obeying every priestly directive without deviation (Lev. 16:2–5).
These two passages serve as reference points for New Testament believers in understanding what it means to “offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:28). The language of “offering” connects our worship to the priestly actions of the Old Testament. When the high priest offered sacrifices, he was worshiping with profound reverence and submission. It is no wonder, then, that God calls Christians—His “royal priesthood”—to approach Him with the same posture as we enter the true “Most Holy Place.”
In light of these truths, how can churches cultivate reverence?
First, reverence can be exhibited. Church leaders can intentionally incorporate elements into a service that shape a congregation’s posture before God. These might include extended Scripture reading, the recitation of creeds, pastoral prayer, and responsive readings from catechisms.
Secondly, reverence can be taught. Cultural reference points for formality have waned over the past half century. People no longer dress formally for work, church, or travel, nor do they consistently use honorifics in professional settings. These touchpoints once helped communicate appropriate behavior for particular settings. Today, church leaders must be more intentional. By teaching the passages above, they can help believers recover a sense of the uniqueness and weightiness of corporate worship. Whether in a cathedral or a cafeteria, a formal setting can be marked by reverence.
Finally, reverence cannot be commanded. It is a response to the beauty and power of God rightly seen. The Apostle Thomas insisted he would not believe unless he touched Christ’s wounds. Yet eight days later when Thomas placed his finger and hand on Jesus’ hands and side, he responded with belief and reverence: “My Lord and my God!” The same can occur in our hearts when God’s power and holiness are faithfully proclaimed regularly on Sunday mornings.
A recognition of God’s power underlies each instance of reverence above. The high priest knew it and modeled reverence by carrying out his sacrificial duties precisely. Isaiah encountered the Lord’s superiority when he beheld His majestic throne room and was undone. The author of Hebrews reminds us that God is a “consuming fire.” Unlike earthly fire, which burns and dies out, His holiness is unending. The God of heaven and earth is always worthy of reverent worship because He is forever supreme. May these truths ring out from our pulpits, take root in our hearts, and produce deeper reverence in our churches.
[1] Matthew McDonald, “Eucharist, Unity, Clarity: What Attracts Converts to the Catholic Church?” National Catholic Register, https://www.ncregister.com/news/easter-converts-2024-by-the-numbers; Orthodox Studies Institute, Converts to Orthodoxy: Statistics and Trends from the Past Decade (Saint Constantine College, July 2024), https://resources.finalsite.net/images/v1722890523/saintconstantineorg/wwfz57wzdrdkx7tj1xu1/ConvertstoOrthodoxy.pdf.
I grew up as a pastor’s kid.
Every week, you would find me at church, and at the age of eight, I confessed my sin, realized my need for forgiveness, and gave my life to Christ.
Like many believers, I grew up saying that Jesus is my Lord and Savior. I knew He had saved me from my sin and that my life was meant to follow Him. But there was a gap between what I confessed and how I lived. I said Jesus was Lord, but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. His rule and reign felt abstract—something I affirmed theologically but hadn’t learned to live under practically. It wasn’t until I began to see Jesus as King that my faith moved from belief to worship, from confession to genuine submission.
In 2017, my wife and I started attending a church in St. Louis where we heard a phrase that caught my attention and, over time, reshaped the way I think about my faith:
King Jesus.
We walked into what is now our home church, and the pastor welcomed the congregation and encouraged us to prepare our hearts to worship King Jesus. As someone who had grown up in the church and was already a believer, it immediately stood out—especially when we realized it wasn’t just a one-time phrase. It was regularly used to describe Jesus in the worship service and in the life of the church.
The title King Jesus has helped me move beyond thinking of Jesus as simply my personal Lord and Savior to seeing Him as the triumphant King who rules and reigns over every area of life.
Jesus Himself declared, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt. 28:18). As believers, we are called to relinquish our self-rule and submit our identity and worship to the One who has all authority.
Seeing Jesus as King reminds us that our faith is not confined to a moment of salvation or a private belief. Every part of our lives—our careers, finances, children, and futures—falls under His good and rightful rule. Everything He has given us to steward ultimately falls under His dominion, not ours.
Viewing Jesus as King has also given me greater confidence in the midst of life’s uncertainties and society’s instability. The Bible reminds us that Christ is not only our Savior but the One who holds all things together.
“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:17).
As the nations rage, kingdoms rise and fall, moral decay deepens, and the world feels chaotic or uncertain, we can rest knowing that King Jesus reigns over all of it.
In a culture that protests authority, we are reminded how deeply the human heart resists the true King who already reigns over everything.
Seeing Jesus as King has also reshaped how I understand the story God is telling in Scripture. The gospel is not only the forgiveness of sins; it is the announcement that the true King has come and that through Him we are brought into His Kingdom.
Through His death and resurrection, Jesus defeated sin and death and was enthroned as the rightful King over all creation (Col. 1:13).
The story of the Bible is the story of a conquering and redeeming King who stepped down to earth, died so that we might live, and invites us to become citizens of His Kingdom. The gospel is God’s story of redemption told through the life of a gentle and lowly King who was slain for a sinful and undeserving people.
Seeing Jesus as King has changed the way I understand God and what it means to live a life worthy of His calling. It reminds me that Christianity is not simply about what Jesus has done for me in the past, but about who He is right now.
Jesus is not only the Savior who forgives sins. He is the risen King who rules and reigns over heaven and earth. Because He is King, my life is meant to be lived in joyful submission to Him (Phil. 2:10–11).
The invitation of the gospel is not merely to acknowledge that truth someday, but to begin living under the good and gracious rule of King Jesus today. The title King Jesus has shaped me not only to receive salvation by grace, but also to actively worship the One who secured it.
I spent years confessing Jesus as Lord without fully living under His rule. The phrase King Jesus changed that. It took a truth I had always believed and made it something I could actually live—in worship, in submission, in the joyful recognition that He is King over every part of my life, not just my salvation.
In this latest installment of the FTC Mailbag, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss listener-submitted questions and topics, including: family worship, elder pathways, ministry calling, loving a dying church, and sermon scheduling. As always, you can submit a question or topic for the mailbag at any time by emailing [email protected]
For most Christians in America, the use of marijuana has been a nonstarter, mainly because it was against the law. But in the last few decades, the move to legalize weed has gained steam. Today, marijuana is still considered a Schedule I illegal substance by the federal government, though twenty-four states and the District of Columbia now allow recreational marijuana. Forty states allow the medical usage of marijuana. So believers must now think biblically and theologically about the use of this increasingly popular plant.
First, we should understand the terms. Cannabis refers to the entire plant, and marijuana refers to the part of the plant grown, harvested, and produced specifically to produce a “high” and thus psychoactive effects. There are parts of the cannabis plant that are neither addictive nor designed to generate a high. Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) is the primary psychoactive compound. For instance, CBD is a popular ingredient in restorative and medical applications. It does not have THC and therefore doesn’t have mind-altering properties.
How should believers think about marijuana and similar substances that have psychoactive effects? While no specific Bible passage addresses marijuana, there are several biblical principles and ideas we should consider.
In Cannabis and the Christian, ethicist Todd Miles recounts visiting a weed dispensary to learn what customers seek:
In doing some research for my presentations on this topic, I visited one of the seemingly ubiquitous marijuana dispensaries near my house. The staff at this shop were extremely patient and helpful, answering many of my questions by pulling out large visual aids with charts and graphics, showing me the different THC products and how they worked. At one point, I asked, rather embarrassingly, if there was any reason to smoke pot recreationally other than to get high. The clerk looked at me like I was an imbecile and laughed, “Why else would anybody smoke pot?”
While there may be a secondary purpose in consuming marijuana, let’s be honest: People use it to get a high. What is a high? A high is a form of intoxication. Scripture doesn’t speak to marijuana, but it does strongly condemn intentional intoxication. To the Ephesians, Paul urges, “And don’t get drunk with wine, which leads to reckless living, but be filled by the Spirit” (Eph. 5:18). This passage, like many others, frequently references alcohol, as it was the primary substance in use during the context addressed by the scriptural authors.
Consider this warning from Proverbs 23:
Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has conflicts? Who has complaints? Who has wounds for no reason? Who has red eyes? Those who linger over wine; those who go looking for mixed wine. Don’t gaze at wine because it is red, because it gleams in the cup and goes down smoothly. In the end it bites like a snake and stings like a viper. Your eyes will see strange things, and you will say absurd things. You’ll be like someone sleeping out at sea or lying down on the top of a ship’s mast. . . . “They struck me, but I feel no pain! They beat me, but I didn’t know it! When will I wake up? I’ll look for another drink.” (vv. 29–35)
This passage discusses “lingering over wine,” consuming so much that one becomes intoxicated and drunk. Scripture warns of its perils: loss of coherence, lack of control of what one says, hallucinations, and addiction: “I’ll look for another drink.” Scripture never portrays intoxication as a good thing for God’s people. What’s more, often drunkenness—intoxication—is seen as sinful. In Galatians 5:19–21, it is listed as a characteristic of people who “will not inherit the kingdom of God” and is inconsistent with a life in step with the Holy Spirit. A similar sentiment is expressed in 1 Corinthians 6:9–10 and 1 Peter 4:3. In 1 Thessalonians 5:6–8, intoxication is contrasted with sobriety and self-control, that is a characteristic of the spiritually mature follower of Jesus. Nine times the New Testament refers to drunkenness or intoxication in its list of sins.
Scripture also offers examples of the kind of debauchery that can result from intoxication: Noah embarrassed himself with public nakedness (Gen. 9:21). Lot committed incest (Gen. 19:30–38). Nabal risked his life and family before the king (1 Sam. 25:36). The Corinthian Christians blasphemed the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:21). David Mathis is right when he says, “When we turn to the New Testament, drunkenness has no place in the church but belongs to the course of this fallen world and the pattern of rebellion against God.”
Scripture warns against it because the effects of intoxication are many. Families, lives, and communities are often destroyed by violence, infidelity, and loss of control. Scholar Christopher Cook asserts from church history, “At least up until the nineteenth century, these ethical conclusions were remarkably uniform. All agreed that drunkenness was a sin.” If the primary purpose of marijuana is to get high and if intoxication is seen as a sin in Scripture, can a Christian seek to get high and be in obedience to Christ?
Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life: Ethical Answers for Cultural Questions, by Daniel Darling, released by B&H Publishing (May 2026).
In 2 Timothy, Paul gives Timothy more than 30 imperatives to guide his ministry to the church at Ephesus—highlighting just how comprehensive the work of pastoral ministry truly is. An overview of some of these imperatives demonstrates this:
Faithful oversight of the church—seeking to model these imperatives—is hard, good, and all-encompassing work. Paul’s commands cover the task (guard, think, entrust, preach, evangelize), promote endurance (share in suffering, be ready in season and out of season, continue in what you have learned, fulfill your ministry), instruct discipleship (remind, reprove, rebuke, exhort), and requires integrity (present yourself approved, flee youthful lusts, pursue righteousness, be sober-minded, avoid irreverent babble, and have nothing to do with foolish controversies).
Paul’s heavy list of imperatives presents a high calling for pastors. How should a pastor “fan into flame the gift” (2 Tim 1:6) so that he can do what it takes to fulfill this ministry and to conclude at the end that—“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim. 4:7)?
It’s interesting to note that all the imperatives carry an active sense to them, except one: “You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus” (2:1). This is the only passive imperative in the entire letter.
Pastors can only meet Paul’s commands by being strengthened by grace through Jesus Christ.
Paul describes the grace in detail:
Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God who saved us and called us to a holy calling not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, and which now has been manifested through the appearing of our Saviour Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. (2 Tim. 1:8–10)
What will keep pastors from being ashamed of the gospel during a hard season? What will keep them from deserting Paul like Demas who was “in love with this present world” (2 Tim. 4:10)? It will not come from merely affirming that death has been abolished and that life and immortality have been brought to light—but they must be strengthened by such grace, deriving strength, faith, and conviction to carry out the work of ministry. This is a supernatural work of God through the Spirit. It’s experienced—not just affirmed—and the experience comes from outside as we meditate on the reality of grace—“remember Jesus Christ risen from the dead” (2 Tim. 2:8).
Paul concludes the letter with his testimony of God doing this in his ministry:
At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me. May it not be charged against them! But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen. (2 Tim 4:16–18)
In this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the prayer in the church. Why do some of us find it so difficult? What do we make of awkward or even absent prayer in our gatherings? Why does public church prayer sometimes feel so weird?
While many Christians give to their local church, many only give directly to specific people and causes in the name of careful stewardship. Their reasoning goes something like this: “If I give to my church, while some of it goes to its various ministries, much of it funds staff salaries, building overhead, fellowship events, and VBS crafts. To be sure, those are good things, but I want my financial generosity to help starving children, trafficked women, villages without clean water, and missionaries. It’s not that my church isn’t important. I just think my money can make a bigger difference if I give it elsewhere.”
As long as believers give generously to needy people and worthy causes, do they really need to give to their local church?
Of all the justifications I’ve heard for not giving to the local church, the “maximum impact” argument is the strongest I’ve come across. After all, sheltering children in Uganda does seem more urgent than helping fund your church’s weekend parenting conference.
And yet, as intuitive as this line of reasoning might seem, it’s problematic to make perceived impact the sole determinative metric for how we give.
While there are a variety of reasons believers ought to give to their local church, the NT repeatedly offers one that renders the “impact only” giving strategy unbiblical despite being well-intended.
Consider for a moment: How has God designed the church to be supported financially? Who funds its ministries and ministers?
Students of church history know that in the past, the state served as the church’s primary benefactor. Indeed, the title ‘Magisterial Reformer’ refers to Protestants like Luther and Calvin who “worked for the reconstruction of Christendom in alliance with the secular magistrates of Europe”[1]
While well-meaning Christians continue to debate about church-state relations, it’s important to recognize that the Scriptures themselves never place the responsibility of bankrolling the church at the feet of Caesar. Instead, they call the church’s members—the believers who directly benefit from its ministers and ministries—to provide the needed resources.
For Paul, giving isn’t merely a call to dig deep and show compassion. It’s often presented as an issue of fairness.
For example, while he personally forgoes financial support, he exhorts the Corinthians to provide materially for those who sow among them spiritually: “The plowman should plow in hope and the thresher thresh in hope of sharing in the crop. If we have sown spiritual things among you, is it too much if we reap material things from you? If others share this rightful claim on you, do not we even more?” (1 Cor. 9:10–12).
Similarly, in Galatians 6:6, Paul writes, “Let the one who is taught the word share all good things with the one who teaches.” Finally, Paul tells Timothy: “Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching. For the Scripture says, ‘You shall not muzzle an ox when it treads out the grain,’ and, ‘The laborer deserves his wages.” (1 Tim. 5:17–18).
For Thomas Schreiner, Paul’s logic is straightforward: “Those who proclaim the gospel have sown, so to speak, spiritual seed, and because they have done so, they should reap a material harvest—that is, they should be supported financially.”[2]
Notice that in each of the exhortations cited above, Paul consistently articulates two principles: (1) Those who give themselves to teaching the Word should be financially supported and (2) their financial support should come from those who benefit from their instruction.
Providing the “laborer’s wages” isn’t the responsibility of the state or a few wealthy church members—it’s the collective responsibility of the believers who reap spiritual fruit from those who labor among them in preaching and teaching.
Stated plainly: If you benefit, you should contribute.
Properly examining your giving strategy is not a matter of asking, “Do Paul’s instructions resonate with me?” but “Am I doing what God’s Word says? Are those who are sowing spiritually among me reaping materially from me?”
If you answer, “No, because I think my money can serve better ends by giving it elsewhere,” then not only are you disregarding apostolic instruction, but you’re also allowing your share of the burden to fall on someone else—in the name of God-honoring generosity!
We have no problem giving money to things we value.
That’s why it’s difficult to conceive of believers who tip their server after a meal out (after 45 minutes of service) more than they gave to their church last year. After all, the church is not a mere product we consume but the blood-bought institution ordained by God to make and grow disciples of all nations.
Similarly, if you have Netflix, Amazon Prime, or Disney+, it’s because you value the benefits it offers enough to pay for it.
And yet, what does it say if we compensate Netflix because we value Stranger Things, but don’t give a penny to the church that invests in our souls?
If your local church isn’t interested in disciple making or doesn’t benefit your soul in the long term, by all means find another one (after you’re certain that church is really the problem). But to regularly gain spiritual benefit from its various ministries and to make no financial contribution is simply a failure to submit to Scripture.
Must believers restrict their giving to the local church? Absolutely not. As a pastor, I directly support a number of worthy causes and individuals and encourage others to do the same as they have opportunity. Rather, we should make sure our relief-oriented giving serves as a supplement to—not a substitute for—local church giving. Scripture calls us to more than giving materially where we reap spiritually, but not less.
[1] Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Reformation: A History (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 143 (Kindle Edition).
[2] Thomas R. Schreiner, 1 Corinthians: An Introduction and Commentary, TNTC (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2018), 186.
Where did your story begin?
Perhaps it was in a home wrought with chaos and conflict or in a family soon to be devastated by divorce. Maybe it begins amid a cycle of job-loss, mounting bills, frequent address changes, or an environment marked by addiction and abuse.
The question is: If your childhood was marked by brokenness and turmoil, what did this teach you about yourself?
Whether for good or ill, our sense of self is profoundly shaped by our formative years. Our first interactions with family and early experiences of home—these ingredients combine to create our first conclusions about who we are and what we’re worth. The problem is, not only are these first conclusions often untrue, but they are also far more persistent than we’d prefer.
But what if they don’t need to be? What if brokenness could mark your childhood, but not your continued sense of identity? Sure, sometimes it seems we’re simply wired to take cues from our beginnings, but what if our beginning goes back far beyond our formative years?
Yes, Christian, your story did have a beginning. And yes, God means for you to derive your sense of self from it. But your beginning—your real beginning—took place long before your birth and long before family brokenness. Long before the stars ever shone in the sky.
When your story began in the eternal purpose of God, it was before the world began. He chose you, in him, before the foundation of the world (Eph. 1:4).
To truly understand your story, then, you must start with God long before you were born or the world was made. Begin with God: Holy, happy, and wonderful—before He had created the day or night and all was whole. To see ourselves rightly, we must start before the foundation of the world.
God brought you into His mind according to His will and delight. It was in a context of perfect, unremitted peace.
As God thought of you, He did so according to His peerless wisdom and boundless understanding. He did not think of you because of confusion or an argument, but from a life-giving love that is unmatched by any. In this setting of supreme and unblemished goodness, God established His plan for you. You would be:
He would write you, His beloved character, into His Great Story—the one that would beget all others. An epic of justice, sacrifice, victory, and delight. A tale in which Jesus shines as the only true hero, and His Church reflects His glory. This, Christian, is the true first page of your story—a story not ultimately of loss, disappointment, and confusion, but of promise, assurance, and everlasting victory.
We must see ourselves not mainly in terms of broken beginnings, but God’s persistent involvement and perfect love.
Why is it that you, today, believe in Jesus? Is it because God just so happened to look down one day, notice your life spinning out of control, and enter in? Was there a point in which God was a newcomer to your life—reacting to the mess of some new situation? Or, in truth, had He been present all along, working out the details according to His grand design?
Paul, in 2 Timothy, says the saved are saved, “Because of [God’s] own purpose and grace”—a purpose He decreed “before the ages began” (2 Tim. 1:9).
Although we must face the painful realities of a fallen and sinful world, the fact that God, “works all things according to the counsel of His will” is a more ultimate reality that should cause us to hope (Eph. 1:11). The omniscient mind that thought up the universe is behind every detail of life—even the painful ones—for your good (Rom. 8:28).
God’s involvement in your life has never skipped a beat.
Not only have His purposes never skipped a beat, but neither has His pure and perfect love. Before time began, God loved you (Eph. 1:4–5). Two thousand years ago, He proved this love for you at the cross (Rom. 5:8). At the time of your conversion, God poured out His love upon you by making you alive in Christ (Eph. 2:4–5).
God’s love has never changed, and He has always remained close—even when His love seems difficult to feel. God set His love upon you before He called light into being and planets into orbit, and His heart has continued to beat with that same love for you ever since.
Long ago, God wrote your name—and it wasn’t on a scrap piece of paper or on a list of to-dos. He inscribed your name into His book of life so deep and bold that no eraser could ever touch it, nor any scheme of Satan pluck you from His hand (Rev. 13:8). God’s story of you is older than the universe. It was He who spoke the first word over you.
No, you don’t ultimately come from brokenness. You come from the perfect, consistent, never-failing God.
First, Jared goes off on why Gen-X’ers need to let the *Star Wars* franchise go, and why Millennials probably should too. Then, the guys dive into the latest installment of the FTC Film Club, this time discussing the recent blockbuster and family-friendly release Project Hail Mary.
