We sometimes describe these encounters as opportunities to bring God into someone’s life. But what if God was already at work before we arrived? What if our confidence grew from recognizing that the Holy Spirit’s activity extends beyond the people He already indwells?

Through Joel, God promised, “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh” (Joel 2:28, ESV). Joel then names sons and daughters, old and young, even male and female servants. The breadth is striking. Age, sex, and social standing would not restrict participation in this promised gift.

At Pentecost, Peter identified what was happening with Joel’s prophecy. Later, when Gentiles received the Spirit in Cornelius’s household, Jewish believers were astonished that the same gift had reached them. The outpouring was crossing boundaries they had not expected God to cross.

This supports the breadth to gentiles. But how about “all flesh.”

Could “all flesh” also point toward an invitation open to every person? Could the Spirit be working upon people who have not yet received Him?

An open invitation vs. a personal reception

Jesus gives us an important distinction. He invites anyone who thirsts to come to Him and drink. John explains that Jesus was speaking about the Spirit, whom believers would receive after His glorification (John 7:37–39).

The invitation is open; reception involves a response. Everyone being invited does not mean everyone has already received. God’s generosity does not erase our ability to refuse Him.

Joel’s wording alone does not settle every question about human freedom. Nevertheless, read alongside Jesus’ invitation, it gives us good reason to speak confidently about the availability of the gift. No person we encounter lies beyond the invitation to come to Christ. They have already been given the invitation.

The Spirit works beyond the indwelt community

Jesus also describes what the coming Spirit will do: “he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment” (John 16:8, ESV). He immediately connects that conviction concerning sin with unbelief in Him.

Notice whom the Spirit addresses: the world. The person standing in front of you has already been invited and convicted for not taking the invitation to believe. The Spirit’s work reaches people who do not yet believe. We should therefore distinguish between experiencing the Spirit’s activity and receiving His indwelling presence. A person may be challenged, awakened, or drawn toward Jesus before entering that relationship.

Stephen supplies another important piece. Confronting those who rejected God’s testimony, he says, “You always resist the Holy Spirit” (Acts 7:51, ESV). The resistance was real, and so was the divine activity they resisted.

God graciously initiates, draws, and enables, while people can resist Him. Faith answers His initiative. We do not manufacture the invitation, save souls, or make ourselves the source of spiritual life.

What changed at Pentecost?

We should be careful here. Humanity’s awareness of God did not begin at Pentecost. Romans 1 describes God revealing Himself through creation. In Acts 14, Paul says God had already borne witness through His goodness to the nations.

Scripture does not explicitly say that every individual received a new inward spiritual awareness on Pentecost. We should leave that claim open rather than present it as established fact.

What Scripture does show is a new era associated with Jesus’ glorification: the promised Spirit poured out, believers empowered to bear witness, and Gentiles welcomed into the same gift. Jesus sends the Spirit to His disciples, and the Spirit’s work reaches outward into the world.

That is enough to change how we approach people.

God’s presence can become recognizable

Paul describes an unbeliever entering a gathering where the Spirit is speaking through prophecy. The person’s heart is exposed, and he responds by acknowledging God’s presence among them (1 Corinthians 14:24–25).

We cannot turn every meaningful conversation into proof of a supernatural event. Yet Scripture gives us reason to expect that unbelievers can encounter God through His people. Our listening, mercy, prayer, and faithful words can become occasions through which He makes Himself known.

This is where our own limitless confidence in Christ begins to take shape. We remain close to Jesus, depend upon His Spirit, and step toward people with expectancy. We can listen without panic, speak without manipulation, and pray without pretending to control the outcome.

The person before us may resist. We will never see the result. Our confidence rests in the Lord who sends us and the Spirit who works beyond our sight. Remember Jesus’ question he asked the two blind men, a question He is asking us too, “Do you believe I am able to do this?”

We’ve been sent out as a light to the world, not the Savior. Before the conversation begins, we can ask: Father, what are You doing here? Help me recognize Your invitation and support your work in this person.

We embody and invite. God gives the life.

We do not have to begin God’s work in another person. He already has. We can trust Him to let us participate in it.

Have you ever J Walked?

Walking amongst people. No agenda. Praying silently for everyone you see. Carrying the kingdom of God near, in their midst.

And then watch God work.

Jesus walked amongst the people.

To explore J Walking and other ways of following Jesus precisely, my latest book is out, Faith Forward Living—Recovering the Second Movement of Jesus

When we think of the valley of dry bones, we usually remember the miracle. Dead bones come to life. An impossible situation becomes a testimony to God’s power.

But look more closely at what God asked Ezekiel to do.

It wasn’t enough for Ezekiel to pray from a distance. God brought him—in the Spirit—to the valley.

That wasn’t enough either.

God had him walk among the bones.

He had to see them up close. He had to observe the devastation firsthand. These weren’t abstract problems or distant people. Ezekiel stood in the middle of death and hopelessness.

Still, that wasn’t enough.

God asked him a question: “Son of man, can these bones live?” (Ezekiel 37:3).

Before there was a miracle, there was a conversation. God invited Ezekiel into the process. Faith wasn’t passive. It required engagement.

And even then, God wasn’t finished.

Ezekiel was told to prophesy to the bones. Not with words he invented, but with the very words God gave him. He became God’s voice in a place that looked beyond hope.

Only then did the bones begin to move.

Later in the chapter, God gives Ezekiel additional actions to perform before the people of Israel—visible, tangible acts designed to strengthen their faith in the Lord. Again, God involved His servant in what He was doing.

Of course, God could have accomplished every bit of this without Ezekiel.

But He chose not to.

Why?

Because faith has always been something God intends us to live, not merely believe.

Too often we imagine that if we simply pray hard enough in the privacy of our homes, our work is finished. Prayer is indispensable. Jesus Himself withdrew to pray. But the pattern throughout Scripture is that prayer prepares us to go where God is sending us.

The prayer closet is where we receive God’s heart.

The world is where we live it out. Directly. In the flesh. Observing the dry bones in front of us.

That’s one of the reasons Faith Forward matters so deeply to me. Jesus didn’t simply pray for the lost. He walked among them. He ate with them. He listened to them. He spoke life into places everyone else had written off as spiritually dead.

The valley of dry bones reminds us that real faith requires proximity.

Walk into your life, your errands, your everyday life.

See the people.

Talk with God while you’re there.

Speak the hope He gives you over them.

Help others discover faith in the one true God.

We are surrounded by dry bones—discouraged neighbors, skeptical coworkers, fractured families, lonely seniors, anxious students, and people who have quietly concluded that hope is gone.

God is still asking the same question:

“Can these bones live?”

The answer has never depended on the bones.

It has always depended on the people to go to the bones.

Faith is a full contact sport—required to be lived out, facing the dry bones directly, observing them directly, interacting with God while doing it, prophesying over them directly, and helping them build their faith in the one true God.

Hallelujah! Glad to be living out our faith together with you.

Not because they don’t believe.
Not because they don’t care.
But because they’ve never been shown how to live it.

We’ve learned how to turn to God.

We’ve learned how to pray, to read our Bibles, to plug in at church and life groups.

But something is missing that Jesus did every day and insisted His disciples learned to do, too.

In the Gospels, Jesus lived with a gospel rhythm:

He withdrew to be with the Father.
And then He moved toward people—intentionally, attentively, with quiet authority.

Not rushed.
Not scripted.
Not pressured.

Just present. Every day. Bringing the kingdom near, at hand, in their midst.

But for many of us, that second movement was never embedded in our discipleship. Had we been discipled by Jesus, we couldn’t have missed it. It was hard baked into His training program.

Faith has become something we believe…
something we talk about…
something we bring into church…

But not something we consistently carry into the lives of the people around us.

And because of that, something else has quietly faded too.

Not belief.

Not conviction.

But something harder to name:

Joy.

Jesus said things like:

“I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.”
(John 15:11)

And when He sent the seventy-two out, they returned with joy.

Not because they learned something new.

Because they stepped into, experienced, something real that they could never get sitting in a pew.

Here’s the connection we often miss:

The part of faith that produces joy is the part that must be lived.

We understand this in every other part of life.

Strength grows when it’s used.
Relationships deepen when they’re engaged.
Skills develop when they’re practiced.

Faith is no different.

But most of us have been taught a version of faith that stays largely internal.

So we pray for our communities…

…but rarely step into them with the awareness that God is already at work there.

We pray in our closets for God to pour out His presence on our communities…

…and He is telling us He has, in us, and that there is a food we know not of, nourishment we’ve left on the table.

What if the missing piece isn’t more knowledge?

What if it’s not more effort?

What if it’s simply learning how to:

Notice.
Pray.
Listen.
Respond.

Right in the middle of everyday life.

Not as “evangelists.”

But as ordinary Christians who carry the presence of God into ordinary places.

Discipleship, when it’s God doing the discipling, is about participation with Him. Not speaking the gospel, but living IN it.

And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Once you begin to live it, faith doesn’t just feel true—

it becomes alive, and JOY falls like rain.

Tomorrow morning, we’re stepping into this together.

Faith Forward Living: A Seminar for Ordinary Christians

A half-day seminar designed for everyday Christians—not the “gifted few”—who want to experience the way of Jesus in real life.

No scripts.
No pressure.
No formulas.

Just a return to the life He actually lived—and invited us into.

If you’ve ever sensed there might be more to your faith than what you’ve experienced so far…

There is.

And you don’t want to miss it.

Join us.

Register Here. It’s free. All glory to the Lamb!

Full rooms. Extra chairs. First-time visitors.

The kind of energy that reminds you why you said yes to this calling in the first place.

But now it’s Tuesday.

The chairs are stacked. The messages are preached.

And what most people never see is what remains.

The quiet weight.

Because Easter didn’t just cost you a sermon.

It cost you emotional energy. Spiritual focus. Relational presence.

It cost you late nights, early mornings, and the steady pressure of wanting to get it right.

Not for yourself—but for the people entrusted to you.

And if you’re honest, there’s a subtle temptation waiting right here in the aftermath:

To move on too quickly.

To jump to the next thing.

To start preparing the next series.

To respond to the emails, the follow-ups, the lingering needs.

All good things.

But sometimes… we move on before we’ve paid attention.

Before we’ve asked a deeper question:

What just happened in me?

Not just through you.

Not just in the room.

But in you.

Because while everyone else experienced Easter as a moment…

you experienced it as a weight you carried.

And that matters.

It matters because your leadership doesn’t flow from your preparation alone.

It flows from your inner life.

From what is formed, strengthened, or strained beneath the surface.

This is the part of pastoral life we rarely talk about.

We talk about preaching. Strategy. Growth.

But we don’t often talk about what it costs a shepherd to keep showing up.

And what happens if that inner space goes unattended for too long.

Not burnout all at once.

Just a slow drift.

A quiet disconnect between what you’re carrying publicly… and what’s happening privately.

That’s why spaces like Renewed matter.

Not because pastors need another program.

But because you need a place where you don’t have to carry anything for anyone else.

A place to pay attention to what God is doing in you—not just through you.

A place to recover the alignment that quietly fuels everything else.

Because the truth is:

The same God who met people in your Easter service…

wants to meet you now.

Not in the spotlight.

Not in the pressure.

But in the quiet, honest space where your own soul is still being formed.

If Easter was about resurrection for your church…

maybe this is an invitation to something being renewed in you.

You don’t have to rush past that.

Take a look if it feels timely:

https://mollylacroix.com/renewed/

—

They do.

They’re asking something quieter—and harder to answer:

Why does growth feel so slow?

Not in everyone.

But in enough people that you can feel it.

Faith is present.

Commitment is real.

And yet, over time, something seems to… plateau.

Most Christians don’t walk away from their faith.

They simply stop experiencing movement within it.

Not a crisis of belief—

a quiet stall.

And it’s not just anecdotal.

An estimated 22% of people in the world say they never experience peace—at any point, on any day.

Never.

Is it any wonder that even in our churches, many struggle to reconcile that reality with words like:

“Count it all joy…”

Part of the problem may be simpler than we think.

We’ve taught people how to turn toward God internally—and that matters deeply.

But we’ve often assumed that when real-life moments come, they’ll naturally know how to respond, how to hear Him, how to step into what He’s doing.

The truth is—we don’t practice that.

And without practice, something essential never develops.

When you step back and look at Scripture, a pattern begins to emerge.

God doesn’t primarily form people through information.

He forms them through interaction.

He allows His people into situations they cannot control.

They turn to Him.

They learn to listen.

They take a step of obedience.

And then—often to their surprise—they begin to see Him move.

You see it everywhere.

Moses, standing at the Red Sea with nowhere to go.

The disciples, staring at five loaves and two fish.

The seventy-two, sent out with nothing.

They weren’t given full clarity ahead of time.

They were placed in situations that required dependence.

And in that place, they were changed.

We tend to want a different order.

We want clarity first.

Confidence first.

A sense that we’re ready.

But Jesus’ way is different.

He sends the seventy-two out like lambs among wolves.

Not after they feel prepared—so that they will learn to depend.

And when they return?

They return with joy.

Not because they mastered a method—

but because they experienced God.

Experiencing God was always in the ancient faith development paths.

Make me to know your ways, O LORD;

teach me your paths.

Psalm 25:4

This is where many of us have quietly drifted.

We’ve come to think of faith as something closer to an on/off switch—something we either have or don’t.

But Scripture paints a different picture.

Faith grows.

It strengthens.

It deepens through use.

Living along His faith development paths is where God’s discipleship methods come to life.

In much the same way that physical strength develops through resistance,

faith develops through responsive obedience along His lines of discipleship.

And without that, it’s no surprise that things can feel stagnant.

What if the issue isn’t that we need more information…

but that we’ve lost touch with the way God actually forms a disciple?

What if growth isn’t found in trying harder, more programs attended,

but in learning how to respond to Him in the moments we’re already in?

On April 18, I’m hosting a half-day seminar:

Faith Forward Living: A Seminar for Ordinary Christians

We’ll look closely at how both God the Father and Jesus discipled people—and how that same pattern still applies today, yet you have never heard it taught before.

This isn’t about becoming more outgoing, or adding pressure.

It’s about learning how to walk with God in a way that leads to real movement—

real growth—

and yes, real joy.

If you’ve ever felt stuck,

or wondered why your faith doesn’t feel as alive as it once did,

or wondered how Paul could effuse about joy from prison,

this may be the invitation you’ve been waiting for.

April 18 | 8:45 AM – Noon (ET)

In-person + Zoom option available

[Register here]

www.72disciples.com

It is a striking statistic.

Nearly a quarter of humanity moves through life without ever feeling settled, secure, or at rest.

How much more preposterous are the words:

To those who cannot find a moment of peace in any day the Bible must sound insane.

Truly, even Christians have little idea how to count it all joy. It’s easy to skip over the scripture that seems out of reach for us mere mortals, as we struggle to pay the bills, raise children, and barely manage to get to church on Sundays.

But what if the Bible is not describing an unattainable ideal?

Is it possible we haven’t believed Jesus is speaking to us, the everyday Christian— revealing something that every human longs for, in this life, now—and is in our midst?

What if God actually intends for His people, you and I included, to live a life marked by deep peace—even in hardship?

And what if Jesus Himself explained how that kind of life is formed?

There Is An Ancient Path

When Jesus begins the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, He does something unexpected. He does not begin with commandments or rules.

He begins with blessing.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit…
Blessed are those who mourn…
Blessed are the meek…”

At first glance these statements can seem like a list of spiritual virtues. But when we read them carefully, something else emerges.

They form a path.

A path of spiritual development that describes what happens when a person begins living in the kingdom of God.

The Beatitudes unfold like a faith development journey. We move along this path throughout our lives. We do not pass each stage permanently. Instead we ebb and flow along the continuum. And whenever we drift, the path always begins again at the same place, the gate.

The Gate: Poverty of Spirit

Jesus begins with a statement that feels almost backwards.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3)

The blessed life begins with recognizing spiritual deficiency.

To be poor in spirit is to acknowledge something fundamental: God is God, and we are not. The illusion of self-sufficiency falls away. We recognize our complete dependence on Him.

This moment of humility becomes the gate into the kingdom life.

But once we see our need, something naturally follows.

The First Response: Mourning

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)

This mourning is not ordinary sadness. Jesus uses one of the strongest Greek words for grief—pentheō—a word often used for mourning at a funeral.

When we recognize our spiritual poverty, we begin to mourn.

We mourn our prior disbelief.

We mourn our resistance to God.
We mourn the sin that separates us from Him.
We mourn the brokenness we see in the world around us.

Yet—let’s not miss this—Jesus calls these people blessed.

Why?

Because mourning opens the door to comfort.

Scripture repeatedly tells us that God meets people in this moment of honest change of mind. Psalm 34 reminds us that “the Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” David writes in Psalm 51 that “a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

Those who mourn are not abandoned. They are met.

And where God meets us, comfort follows.

The Beatitudes Form Two Movements

When we step back, the Beatitudes appear to form two groups of four.

The first four focus on our relationship with God, UPWARD toward the Father:

• Poor in spirit
• Mourning
• Meekness
• Hungering and thirsting for righteousness

The second four describe how that transformed heart begins to live, OUTWARD toward others:

• Merciful
• Pure in heart
• Peacemakers
• Persecuted for righteousness

In this way the Beatitudes mirror the two greatest commandments Jesus would later name:

Love God.
Love your neighbor.

The blessed life is found in a daily rhythm of both. Upward and Outward. Woven together like a DNA helix. Like oxygen and blood, we cannot have life without an intertwined rhythm of purposed upward and purposed outward actions.

Christian discipleship tends to focus on the first, because, let’s face it, loving people like ourselves is impossible without loving God. But this tends to leave the body of Christ less schooled in ‘going’ like Jesus.

We spend years learning how to turn toward God.

But most of us never practice turning toward people.

Jesus did both every day.

As disciples of Christ we are taught to turn, in the moment, to God. To lean not on our own understanding. To surround our selves with the things of Christ.

Can we not similarly learn to see people at the grocery store, on the soccer field sidelines, in the subway car, as God sees them? In that moment, where we were going anyway, turning ourselves OUTWARD, surrounded by a sea of people who are not in peace, who need the kingdom to be brought near, in their midst.

A Gospel Pattern

Seen this way, the Beatitudes reveal something profound about the message Jesus consistently preached.

Jesus announced His good news—the kingdom of God had come near.

And those who sought that kingdom would discover a new way of living—one shaped by humility, repentance, mercy, reconciliation, and surprising joy. A blessed life.

Even persecution becomes part of the blessing.

That idea may sound strange until we recognize the rhythm beneath it.

The life of the kingdom grows where both movements come together:

Love for the Father.
Love for people.

When both are present, practiced every day, the Christian life becomes something extraordinary.

It becomes the kind of life where mercy flows naturally, peace is lived actively, and even suffering does not steal our joy.

This is why believers throughout Scripture can say things that seem almost impossible, such as Paul effusing about his joy, in a letter written from prison.

Jesus tells His followers to rejoice when they are persecuted.

This is not denial of reality.

It is the fruit of living within the rhythm of the kingdom.

Returning to the Beginning

None of us walks this path perfectly. The Christian life is not a straight line. We grow, we drift, we return.

And whenever we return, the path begins in the same place.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

The blessed life begins when we recognize our need for God, mourn what separated us from Him, and allow Him to reshape our hearts to see His rhythm. Jesus lived that rhythm daily, and taught it to the ears that could hear.

Upward and Outward. Neither optional if we desire His blessed life.

An Invitation

Many Christians have been well taught in how to turn toward God.

We pray.
We study Scripture.
We worship.

We practice that turn regularly.

But when it comes to the second movement—turning toward people—we often assume it will happen when the moment arrives.

Jesus never assumed that. Neither did he wait for the moment to arrive.

He intentionally walked toward people.
He moved through towns and villages.
He sat with strangers, sinners, skeptics, and seekers.

And, He sent us out, the 72 everyday ordinary Christians.

He modeled a life that deliberately turned outward toward the world.

And He taught His disciples to do the same.

If we don’t practice that outward turn, we will never experience the full rhythm of the blessed life Jesus described.

That is exactly what we will explore together at the upcoming seminar:

Faith Forward Living, April 18, 8:45 AM – Noon (ET)

Live and zoom. Register here.

This seminar will focus on learning how to intentionally live in the OUTWARD turn—toward people with the same purpose and presence that Jesus modeled. Not by volunteering more time you don’t have. But by integrating it into your every day. Everywhere you go.

In this full address, I explore how strategic instincts shaped by anxiety, urgency, and cultural decline subtly altered the Church’s posture toward unbelievers — and how alignment with Jesus offers a clearer path forward.

For pastors, elders, ministry leaders, and everyday believers who sense that something in our evangelistic demeanor is not hitting the bulls-eye — and who long to see a generation recognize Jesus in us again.

You’ve likely felt it: the tension between urgency and peace, between clarity and compassion, between defending truth and embodying Christ. Does our posture still reflect the way Jesus moved among unbelievers?

If you are a church leader sensing this re-calibration is necessary in your own context, I would love to continue the conversation.

On April 18, 2026, I’ll be hosting the Faith Forward Living seminar (in person and via Zoom), where we’ll unpack the theological framework and practical implications of this address in greater depth.

You can learn more at 72disciples.com. Register for the 4/18 seminar here.

What if we’ve been praying for revival… while resisting the very thing that would make it possible?

From 2010 to 2022, my ministry distributed over 10,000 Billy Graham Evangelistic Association tracts on the streets of New Hampshire and more than 50 million digital gospel tracts on social media. I believed in urgency. Eternity mattered. Souls mattered. I wanted to be faithful.

But by 2016, I found myself searching the Scriptures to make sure the method matched the Master.

That research lasted nearly a decade, as I wrestled with scripture vs. my conventional ministry.

And it forced me to change my mind.

Not about the gospel.

About how the gospel moves.

There is something deeply sincere about the modern Church’s prayer life. We gather in sanctuaries and prayer meetings and ask God to move in our communities. We ask Him to pour out His Spirit on our cities. We pray for awakening in our nation. We long for unbelievers to come alive in Christ.

But the more I studied Jesus, the more I began to notice something unsettling.

When God gives His Spirit in Scripture, He rarely tells people to sit in it.

He tells them to go.

Abraham—go to the land I will show you.
Moses—go back to Egypt.
Isaiah—whom shall I send?
Jonah—go to Nineveh.

And when the Spirit was poured out at Pentecost, the disciples did not build a monument around the moment. They stepped out.

The Spirit does not fall so we can preserve Him.
He fills us so we can carry Him.

Jesus never modeled a faith that stayed put. He withdrew to pray, yes—but then He moved toward people. He stepped off boats and saw crowds as sheep without a shepherd. He allowed the bleeding woman to press through. He invited Himself into Zacchaeus’ home. He began conversations at wells.

He did not wait for people to find the synagogue.

He brought the kingdom near.

And when He sent the seventy-two, He did not give them a script. He told them to go into towns, stay in homes, bless households, and carry peace.

Carry peace.

That phrase has been echoing in me for years.

Somewhere along the way, we began to believe that faith could be produced through insistence. If we explained clearly enough, urgently enough, precisely enough—belief would follow.

But faith is not manufactured. It is awakened.

And awakening belongs to God.

If that is true—and I believe it is—then perhaps our role is not to engineer response but to align with the Father and move outward with His presence.

That is a very different posture.

It is slower.
Less frantic.
Less reactive.

But it is also far more faithful to Jesus.

The Church has not lost its gospel.
But we may have drifted from its rhythm.

And rhythm matters.

Alone time with the Father, going to the people. Stay with Father. Go to people.

Each a transaction. Absorb the presence. Go and point the presence.

Each a calibration. Re-calibrate to the Father. Go and be the calibrated.

If we are misaligned in posture, even the right message can feel like pressure. If we operate from anxiety, culture feels it. If we treat people like projects instead of image-bearers, they sense it.

But when believers Go aligned—prayerful, steady, outward-facing—something changes.

Conversations open (super)naturally.
Trust builds quietly.
Curiosity rises unexpectedly.

Not because we forced it.

Because the Spirit was already working.

I am increasingly convinced of this:

The awakening we keep asking God to send may already be queued in heaven.

It may simply be waiting for a Church willing to Go carry the Spirit it has already received.

That is not condemnation. It is invitation.

An invitation to re-calibrate.
To return to imitation over innovation.
To move from pressure to presence.
To shift from authors of awakening to participants in it.

In the coming weeks, I’ll be hosting a seminar where I unpack this fully—the biblical foundation, the historical drift, the strategic missteps I personally participated in, and the path forward for ordinary believers who want to live the way Jesus lived: aligned with the Father and moving toward people.

Not louder.

Not softer.

Just more like Him.

Bringing the kingdom near, in their midst.

If you’ve ever felt the tension between urgency and peace…
If you’ve sensed that something in our current posture isn’t quite right…
If you long for a Christianity that feels both faithful and free…

I hope you’ll join me.

Not for a new method.

For a recovered rhythm.

Because the question is no longer whether God is willing to awaken hearts.

The question is whether we are willing to carry His presence out the doors.

Faith Forward Living, with host Randy Loubier. A seminar for ordinary Christians.

4/18/26 9:00am-Noon EST, register here so I can send you the Zoom link and follow-up resources.

It’s been fun. Refreshing, even.

This past Sunday, like every Sunday, I visited a church I’d never attended before. The worship was sincere. The congregation was warm. But early in the sermon, the pastor made several politically charged comments about Minnesota. Not in passing. Not as an illustration. But as commentary—clearly drawn from the week’s news and clearly intended to land a particular conclusion.

I sat there more surprised than offended.

During my years in ministry, I always avoided politically charged topics from the pulpit. It simply felt like a bad idea, though I’ll admit I never fully analyzed why. This Sunday, though, something clicked. As I listened, I finally understood what was wrong with it.

And it wasn’t for the obvious reason.

The most common argument against politics in the pulpit is that it divides the church. Take a political side and you risk losing half the congregation. Unity suffers. Attendance drops. Giving declines.

That’s true enough—but that’s not the real problem.

Pastors speak difficult truths all the time without worrying about attendance. Jesus did. Scripture confronts us, challenges us, and unsettles us regularly. If fear of losing people were the standard, we’d never preach repentance, forgiveness, generosity, or sacrificial love.

So why should politics be treated differently?

Because the moment we begin making politically motivated commentary on current events, we are almost guaranteed to do one of two things: lie, or spread rumors.

Both bring disfavor—not just on the pastor, but on the church and the gospel itself.

Scripture is unambiguous here. Liars do not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:9–10; Revelation 21:8). Bearing false witness—spreading unverified or misleading claims—is a direct violation of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:16). These are not minor ethical missteps. They are serious moral matters.

“But,” someone might say, “the pastor is just responding to the news. He’s informed. He’s taken a position. What’s wrong with that?”

Here’s the problem: what we call “news” today is rarely news in the traditional sense.

Much of it is opinion wrapped in urgency. Narrative wrapped in outrage. Persuasion disguised as reporting. And often, it’s simply people reacting to other people’s reactions—layers of commentary built on partial facts, selective framing, and sometimes outright falsehoods.

Even when outright lies aren’t involved, the information is almost always filtered. Biased. Curated toward a desired conclusion. And we all know the uncomfortable truth: we tend to consume the sources we already agree with.

Pastors are not immune to this. In fact, we may be more vulnerable than most. When we feel strongly about justice, morality, or the direction of society, it’s easy to confuse conviction with certainty. But conviction does not equal verification.

A pastor is called to a higher standard.

It is not enough to say, “I heard this on the news, so I’m informing the congregation.” No—you are repeating claims you have not personally verified. You know there are two sides and you are not listening to the other side. You know the news is largely lies, but it feeds something in you, so you don’t want to admit it. You know you are amplifying narratives shaped by agendas you do not control. And when those claims turn out to be false, exaggerated, or misleading—as they so often do—you have intentionally spread lies or gossip from the pulpit.

That does real damage.

It damages trust in the pastor. It damages the church’s witness. And it subtly reshapes the pulpit from a place of proclamation into a platform for opinion.

But the big casualty—the pastor. God’s favor is not to be trifled with. As a pastor we preach about seeking God’s favor and repenting when we miss the mark. No good can come from spreading rumors, or worse, lying to those you’ve been entrusted to shepherd.

Politics is an addiction. It tempts towards personal destruction, no different than any other addiction. When a Christian falls to addiction it’s sad, when a pastor succumbs to addiction, all hell breaks loose.

The pulpit is meant to be anchored in what is true, tested, and eternal. Scripture has survived centuries because it is not reactive. It does not chase headlines. It speaks to the human heart across cultures, governments, and political systems.

Once a pastor starts interpreting the news for the congregation, the authority of Scripture quietly shifts. The Bible becomes supporting material, while the sermon is driven by whatever dominated the week’s media cycle. That’s not shepherding. That’s punditry—with a Bible verse attached.

There is plenty for the church to say about justice, mercy, truth, humility, and love of neighbor—in the scripture—commenting about the scripture! Scripture gives us a moral framework without requiring us to endorse a liar’s narrative. When pastors stay rooted there, they speak with clarity and credibility.

When they don’t, they risk something far more serious than declining attendance.

They risk bringing disfavor on themselves, their church and the name they are called to represent.

And that, more than any political disagreement, is why politics from the pulpit is such a dangerous idea.

I wasn’t rejecting God because I loved darkness or rebellion. I was rejecting a version of God that felt small, transactional, and threatening. A God who seemed obsessed with rules, quick to condemn, and distant from real life. A God who demanded obedience and responded with hell-fire if I didn’t follow His rules.

That god was easy to walk away from.

What I didn’t know at the time is that the Bible itself rejects that god too.

And nowhere is that rejection more complete than in Leviticus.

The God I Rejected Was Domesticated

In Faith Forward Gospel, I describe my salvation not as being rescued from hell-threats or moral failure, but from unbelief rooted in a distorted view of God. I did not trust God because I did not know Him. The god I had been shown was one who needed to be appeased, managed, and feared for his fickleness.

Leviticus might seem to reinforce that image. Endless detail. Exacting instruction. Boundaries everywhere. Guys being smoked out of existence for bringing “strange fire.”

But Leviticus isn’t about God tightening control.

It’s about God refusing to be reduced.

Human beings have always tried to domesticate God—to shrink Him into something that fits our preferences, our culture, our ambitions. I wanted a god who validated me, not one who transformed me. So I made one up.

But the true God will not cooperate with that project.

He does something radical.

He moves in.

Saved First — Then Shown How to Live

Leviticus appears after Israel has already been saved. Egypt is behind them. Slavery is over. Redemption has already happened.

That matters.

Leviticus is not about how to get right with God. It is about how people who have already been rescued learn how to live with Him.

This was a turning point for me.

I had assumed Christianity worked in reverse: behave, believe, maybe belong. But Scripture—and eventually my own experience—revealed the opposite order. God saves people while they are still confused, resistant, and skeptical. Then He patiently teaches them how to live in the freedom of a blessed life.

That was my story.

I didn’t come to faith because someone pressured me to change. I came to faith when I encountered Jesus as He actually is—present, relational, unthreatening, and uncompromising in love.

Leviticus Reveals a God Who Is Near

The shock of Leviticus isn’t the rules.

It’s the nearness.

God does not remain distant and abstract. He involves Himself in time, space, bodies, meals, work, rest, justice, and relationships. Nothing is excluded. Nothing is too small.

That level of detail isn’t control—it’s commitment.

A distant god gives vague principles. A loving God teaches people how to live in His presence. Holiness in Leviticus is not moral perfectionism. It is life reordered around the reality that God is actually here.

This was the God I didn’t know existed.

And once I saw Him, unbelief collapsed. It was in Leviticus when I first heard that still small voice of love. Close love. Intimate love. Beckoning love.

From Pressure to Presence

This understanding flows directly into Faith Forward Living.

If holiness is about presence, then following Jesus is not about pressure to perform. It’s about learning to walk as He walked—aware of God, attentive to people, responsive to the Spirit, unforced and unafraid.

Jesus did not bring heaven to earth through religious intensity. He did it through everyday faithfulness—meals, conversations, interruptions, compassion, prayer, trust.

Leviticus prepares us for that life, giving us things to do to live closely with the God who created everything. Surely, the practices in Leviticus were made obsolete by Jesus (Heb 8:13). But, don’t miss this, Jesus gave us new practices which do the same.*

Leviticus teaches us that God cares about the ordinary because the ordinary is where He dwells. That our everyday routines are not spiritually neutral. That work, rest, relationships, and even limitations are places where God is actively forming us.

Bringing Heaven Into Ordinary Life

This is where my faith stopped being a curiosity and became a transformation.

Once I realized God was not waiting for me to perform on my own, but inviting me to participate with Him, everything changed. Faith was no longer making up a god who agreed with me. It was about noticing that the God who was chasing me down with buckets of love wanted me to let Him into the ordinary spaces of my life.

Listening instead of arguing. Praying quietly instead of pushing. Trusting God to work instead of managing outcomes.

Leviticus taught me that God does not bypass daily life to accomplish His purposes.

He inhabits it. His cloud over the tabernacle is His Spirit in my home. He is with me.

The God Who Refused to Stay Small

Leviticus dismantled the god I rejected—and prepared me for the God who saved me.

Not a tame God.
Not a manageable God.
Not a distant God.

But the holy God who draws near and says, I will live among you. Learn to live with Me.

That is not pressure.

That is love.

And that is where heaven still meets earth—one ordinary life at a time.

*Save the Date—April 18, 2026, 9am-Noon EST, Live and Zoom

Faith Forward Living: A Half-Day Seminar for Ordinary Christians, Host Randy Loubier

God’s mission has always been about growing trust. From the wilderness of Israel to the sending of the seventy-two, Scripture shows us that faith is formed not by information or pressure, but by listening to God’s voice, acting on it, and then realizing He was right. Prayer was never meant to stay in the closet. It was meant to move with us—into ordinary places, among ordinary people—where God meets us and turns bitter waters sweet. “And you will have abundant joy.” (Jn 16:24)

Free. God has provided.

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No scandal.
No doctrinal crisis.
No public resignation.

They keep preaching. They keep showing up. They keep doing what is required. But something internal begins to loosen. Passion thins. Prayer shortens. Scripture becomes functional instead of nourishing. The calling remains—but the joy quietly recedes.

Scripture has a word for this, and it is not rebellion.
It is weariness.

The apostle Paul names it plainly:

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9

Paul does not warn against laziness. He assumes faithfulness. The danger he identifies is not stopping outright, but surrendering inwardly before the harvest comes.

Most leaders don’t quit loudly.
They quit quietly.

When the Threshold Is Crossed

I was recently at a summit of pastors and Christian leaders. The purpose was simple: to decide how often we should meet and what kinds of topics would actually draw leaders to gather regularly.

At one point, someone shared a suggestion that came from a much larger regional conference. That conference had surveyed pastors across the region and asked a single question: What is the most important topic for the survival of the church?

Everyone leaned in. The room was quiet. People were eager to hear the answer.

The response was one word: evangelism.

Before the conversation could continue, one pastor in our smaller cohort spoke up—strongly.

“No way,” he said. “I am not going to attend another meeting where I’m made to feel guilty. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m not doing enough. If you want to talk to me about how my soul can find rest in all that I’m trying to do, I’m all ears. I need ministering to—not being told once again that I’m not good enough.”

The room went silent.

What he said wasn’t defiant. It was honest. And it revealed something important.

That pastor hadn’t stopped caring about the mission of the church. But something had shifted. What once sounded like calling now sounded like accusation. He had crossed the threshold Paul is warning about—not into failure, but into quiet withdrawal.

Scripture has language for that moment.

“But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls.”
— Hebrews 10:39

“Shrink back” does not describe rebellion. It describes retreat. A subtle pulling away from trust. A leader still standing—but no longer leaning forward in faith.

Hebrews does not condemn this posture. It names it, and then reminds leaders who they are.

Drift, Not Denial

Most leaders do not abandon faith. They drift.

“Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.”
— Hebrews 2:1

Drift is slow. Almost imperceptible. And leadership can disguise it. Sermons still get written. Meetings still happen. Care is still given. But inward attentiveness erodes.

Over time, even good and necessary conversations—about mission, growth, or evangelism—can feel unbearable. Not because they are wrong, but because the leader’s soul is depleted.

When that happens, the issue is no longer strategy.
It is survival.

God’s Intervention Is Renewal, Not Rebuke

Paul speaks directly to leaders who feel this tension:

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:16

The honesty matters. The outer self is wasting away. Capacity diminishes. Energy thins. Scripture does not deny this reality.

But neither does it surrender to it.

God’s promise is not perpetual strength. It is daily renewal. Not a dramatic reset, but a quiet re-centering of the soul around His presence.

Leaders often assume renewal should feel like energy returning. Paul suggests otherwise. Renewal frequently happens beneath the surface—precisely when leaders feel weakest.

Faithfulness Still Matters—Even When It Feels Invisible

Weariness introduces a dangerous question: Does any of this still matter?

Paul answers clearly:

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”
— 1 Corinthians 15:58

This is not motivational language. It is theological certainty. Faithfulness in the Lord is never wasted—even when fruit is delayed, unseen, or misunderstood.

The harvest Paul promises in Galatians does come. But it comes in God’s timing, not ours. Leaders are rarely tempted to quit because they doubt God. They are tempted to quit because endurance begins to feel unsustainable.

Scripture does not answer that fear with guilt. It answers it with identity.

You are not of those who shrink back.

A Quiet Practice for Weary Leaders

There is one more passage Scripture gives leaders in moments like this—not as command, but as mercy.

After Elijah’s great victory on Mount Carmel, he collapses. Fearful. Exhausted. Ready to quit. He tells God plainly, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life.”

God’s response is strikingly practical.

“And behold, an angel touched him and said to him, ‘Arise and eat.’ And he looked, and behold, there was at his head a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. And he ate and drank and lay down again.”
— 1 Kings 19:5–6

Before correction.
Before recommissioning.
Before vision.

God gives Elijah food, water, and sleep.

This is not incidental. It is theological.

Sometimes the most spiritual response to weariness is not more resolve, more strategy, or more responsibility—but rest received as obedience.

Elijah’s despair was real. But God did not treat it as rebellion. He treated it as depletion.

Here is the quiet hope for leaders standing at the edge of withdrawal:

You may not need to quit.
You may not need to push harder.
You may need to let God care for you before asking anything more of yourself.

Eat without guilt.
Sleep without apology.
Stop interpreting exhaustion as failure.

God does not ask Elijah, “Why are you so weak?”
He asks later, gently, “What are you doing here?”

That question only comes after God has sustained him.

When Leaders Need Ministering Too

The pastor at that summit didn’t need another assignment. He needed renewal. Not permission to stop caring—but space to breathe again in the presence of God.

Scripture makes room for that.

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.”
— Isaiah 40:31

Waiting is not quitting. Waiting is choosing trust over withdrawal.

If you are weary, Scripture does not shame you.
If you feel tempted to pull back quietly, Scripture does not accuse you.

It reminds you:

God is not finished.
Your labor is not wasted.
And the quiet temptation to quit may be the very place where God is preserving not just your ministry—but your soul.

Nothing dramatic. No rebellion. No crisis that would show up on the outside. Just a slow thinning of attentiveness. Less time in the Word. Less awareness of God’s nearness. More reaction than reflection. More irritation than peace.

That reality surfaced in a recent Sunday and the Struggle conversation—not as a confession of doubt, but as an honest acknowledgment of drift. Faith wasn’t gone. But it wasn’t as centered as it once was.

That honesty led us straight into one of the most revealing sentences Jesus ever spoke about suffering, faith, and leadership.

“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail.” (Luke 22:31)

“Jesus does not pray that Peter will avoid hardship. He prays that Peter’s faith will survive it.”

Jesus does not pray that Peter’s life will become easier.
He does not pray that persecution will be avoided.
He prays that Peter’s faith will endure the pressure.

That distinction matters—especially for those who lead.

Jesus already knows Peter’s future will be brutal. Fear. Failure. Public denial. Eventual martyrdom. None of that surprises Him. What concerns Him is not whether Peter will suffer, but whether Peter will still trust God after suffering.

The struggle is assumed. Faith is the focus.

“The struggle doesn’t create the problem. It reveals what we’ve been feeding.”

We often imagine spiritual opposition as chaos aimed at destroying our lives—disruption, loss, pain. But Jesus names something far more precise. Satan’s request is not to destroy Peter’s future. It is to sift him.

Sifting is violent—but purposeful. Wheat is shaken so what is weightless falls away. What remains is what matters.

That reframes leadership strain entirely. If faith is the target, then drift matters—not as condemnation, but as warning. When Scripture, prayer, and community thin out, the first thing we lose is not belief, but clarity. Grace becomes less reflexive. Reactions replace responses. Love becomes harder to access under pressure.

The struggle doesn’t cause the erosion. It exposes it.

“God does not allow suffering because He is absent. He allows it because He is committed to who we are becoming.”

This inevitably raises the question leaders hear often—and quietly ask themselves:

If God is good, why allow this at all?

Scripture does not avoid that question, but it does correct it. Job asked it, too. And when God finally answered, He didn’t explain the mechanics of suffering. He reminded Job who was speaking.

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (Job 38:4)

God’s response is not cruel. It is clarifying. Faith is not built by fully understanding why. It is built by knowing who.

A God who shields His people from every hardship would also shield them from depth, maturity, and the capacity to strengthen others. Refinement requires heat. Strength requires resistance. Faith that cannot be tested cannot mature.

“Faith is not built by fully understanding why. It is built by knowing who.”

One of the most striking illustrations of this truth came from an unexpected place—a scene from The West Wing.

A man is trapped in a ditch. A doctor walks by and throws down a prescription. A priest walks by and throws down a prayer. Then a friend arrives—and jumps into the ditch with him.

The trapped man protests: “Now we’re both stuck.”
The friend replies: “Yes—but I’ve been here before. I know the way out.”

That is the church at its best.

Not advice shouted from above.
Not theology tossed into pain.
But presence. Shared burden. Borrowed strength.

“Sometimes faith is not something we generate—it’s something we lean on.”

God designed it this way. When one falters, another carries. When one doubts, another remembers. When one is sifted, another steadies.

That is not weakness. That is grace.

Luke 22:31 is not merely historical. It is a window into the ongoing heart of Christ. Jesus knows struggle is inevitable. He knows suffering will come. He knows faith will be tested.

And His prayer has not changed.

He does not promise easy paths.
He promises faithful presence.
He does not remove the fire.
He refines us through it.

“A God who shields us from every hardship would also shield us from depth.”

If you are leading others while quietly fighting for your own alignment, that does not disqualify you. It places you squarely in the company of Peter—and Job—and every servant God has ever trusted with responsibility.

The struggle is not proof of abandonment.
It is often evidence of investment.

And the prayer spoken over your life remains the same:

“The prayer over your life has not changed: ‘That your faith may not fail.’”

Sunday and the Struggle is a podcast hosted by Randy Loubier — a discussion about scripture and the realities of the Christian life. https://www.youtube.com/@SundayandtheStruggle

If words alone could save us, everyone who ever said “Lord, Lord” would enter the kingdom of heaven.

We’ve all heard it: “Just say this prayer and you’ll be saved.”
We mean well. We want people to know how easy grace is.
But in our attempt to simplify salvation, we’ve sometimes turned the gospel into an incantation.

Say the prayer.
Check the box.
Heaven secured.

It sounds comforting—but it’s not biblical.
Neither Jesus nor the apostles ever led unbelievers through a scripted, “repeat-after-me” prayer.
They called people to believe, follow, and receive.

Where the Confusion Comes From

This idea traces back to Romans 10:9–10:

“If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”

Over time, “confess and believe” became “repeat and agree.”
We began treating confession as a formula instead of a fruit.

But Paul wasn’t describing a ritual.
He was describing public allegiance—a heart that trusts Jesus so deeply it can’t stay silent.
Confession is not the cause of salvation; it’s the expression of it.

Confession is what faith sounds like—not how faith starts.

The Bible’s Real Pattern of Response

In all twenty-two evangelism encounters we studied in Faith Forward Gospel, no one ever prays a sinner’s prayer.
They respond in faith—by believing, following, or receiving—not by memorizing a line.

• The Thief on the Cross (Luke 23) didn’t repeat a prayer; he believed and entrusted himself to Jesus.

• The Philippian Jailer (Acts 16) asked, “What must I do to be saved?” Paul didn’t say, “Say this after me.” He said, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved.”

• Cornelius’ Household (Acts 10) believed as Peter preached—and the Holy Spirit fell on them mid-sermon.

The biblical pattern is unmistakable:
Faith first, words second.

The sinner’s prayer is not the entry point to salvation—it’s one way faith may find its voice.

Why “Just Say the Prayer” Feels So Right

It feels right because it’s simple, quick, and measurable.
It gives pastors and parents a sense of certainty—“I know they’re saved; they prayed the prayer.”
It even feels biblical because prayer is good.

But simplicity isn’t the same as salvation.
When we teach that reciting words activates grace, we unknowingly return to the same superstition we’ve been dismantling throughout this series—the “magic gospel.”

Part 1 showed that the message itself isn’t magic.
Part 2 showed that sorrow isn’t magic.
And now Part 3 reveals that ritual isn’t magic either.

All three replace faith in a Person with faith in a formula.

Jesus’ Warnings About Empty Words

Jesus saw this coming:

“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father” (Matthew 7:21).

He wasn’t describing legalism—He was exposing counterfeit faith.
The issue isn’t words; it’s trust.

And in Luke 18, when the tax collector prays, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,”
Jesus commends not his words, but his heart posture.
He believed God was merciful and came to Him in faith.
That’s why he went home justified.

The prayer didn’t save him. The faith behind it did.

When We Shrink the Invitation, We Shrink the Life

When we reduce salvation to a formula, we shrink what we’re inviting people into.
Faith is not a contract to secure heaven—it’s a relationship that begins the moment we trust Christ.

We’re inviting people into an actual life with God:
A relationship with the One who created the universe, who speaks, guides, and comforts.
The God who gives peace in every storm, wisdom in every decision, and joy in every trial.

We’re not inviting people to repeat after us—we’re inviting them to walk with Him.

Salvation is not an end; it’s a beginning.
The Christian life is the ongoing miracle of living in step with God’s Spirit.
And that life doesn’t start when we find the right words—it starts when we find the right Savior.

The Faith Forward Alignment

Faith Forward teaching restores the gospel to what Jesus actually modeled:

• Salvation is by faith, not formula.

• Repentance is a change of mind, not self-induced remorse.

• Confession is faith made public, not verbal magic.

Faith is the root; confession is the fruit.
The power has never been in the prayer—it’s in the Person who hears it.

Faith speaks—but it doesn’t begin with speech.

When genuine faith takes hold, words will come naturally.
But those words don’t make the faith real; they simply reveal it.

Why This Matters for Evangelism—and for Everyday Life

Evangelism matters deeply—but so does what happens after.
If we invite people into a transaction, they’ll live like God is distant until they need another one.
But if we invite them into a relationship, they’ll live like God is near every day.

Reducing salvation to “say this prayer” has left many thinking they’re saved because they performed a ritual, and others doubting because they didn’t “say it right.”
Faith Forward evangelism lifts that burden and opens the door to a lifetime of walking with God.

We don’t count prayers—we cultivate faith.
We don’t lead people to repeat after us—we lead them to believe, abide, and follow.

Bringing the Series Full Circle

The “Magic Gospel” series reveals one timeless truth:

1. Words don’t save. (Part 1)

2. Emotions don’t save. (Part 2)

3. Rituals don’t save. (Part 3)

Faith does.

Whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have everlasting life.

That’s not magic.
That’s mercy.
And that’s the beginning of everything God has planned for us.

If sorrow could save us, Jesus wouldn’t have needed the cross.

This week, I was in another conversation about the myths we’ve developed around the Gospel. This time about how we are required to lead with sin conviction because “Being sorry for our sins and asking for forgiveness—is what saves us.”

Rarely do we find anyone who argues about what the Gospel message is—therefore, it’s likely you and I agree on all the basics of the Gospel message.

But, we’ve developed some weird traditions around the Gospel that drive behavior we don’t see in practice with Jesus or the apostles.

We all agree that sin conviction will have to come at some point. But does it have to happen before faith?

The idea sounds holy. It sounds humble. But it creates a subtle, dangerous shift: salvation moves from what Jesus did to what we feel.

The assumption is simple: if you’re not sorry enough, you can’t find saving faith.

Much of this confusion comes from Jesus’ own words in Mark 1:15:

“Repent and believe the good news.”

For centuries, we’ve assumed this means two sequential steps, “Be sorry for your sins SO THAT you can believe.”
But when we look carefully at Jesus’ actual encounters—and at every example of evangelism in the New Testament—the pattern is undeniable:

Faith comes first. Sorrow follows later.

The Scriptures Often Quoted

Verses like these are often used to argue that sorrow must precede salvation:

• Luke 13:3, 5 – “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”

• Acts 2:38 – “Repent and be baptized… for the forgiveness of your sins.”

• 2 Corinthians 7:10 – “Godly sorrow produces repentance that leads to salvation.”

• 2 Peter 3:9 – “The Lord… is patient… not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”

But when you examine how Jesus and the apostles actually evangelized unbelievers, these verses take on a much clearer meaning.
The “repentance” they called for was a change of mind that leads to faith—not a ritual of remorse.

Let’s look closely at every encounter.

The 22 Calls of the Unbeliever — What the Bible Actually Shows

Across the Gospels and Acts, there are twenty-two distinct times where Jesus or His apostles evangelized unbelievers.
Every single one begins with good news and an invitation to believe, not with a demand for sorrow.

Not one call to faith begins with a demand for remorse.

1. Jesus Calling the First Disciples (Mark 1, John 1, Luke 5)

When Jesus calls Simon, Andrew, James, John, and Levi, His message is simple:
“Follow Me.”
There’s no sermon about personal sin, no call to sorrow.
Even when Peter blurts out, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man,” Jesus does not commend his remorse—He redirects it:
“Do not be afraid; from now on you will catch men.”

The call to discipleship is built on trust, not tears.
They drop their nets and follow Him, not because they felt guilty, but because they believed.

2. Jesus’ One-on-One Encounters (John 3–4, Luke 19, Luke 23)

In every personal conversation with unbelievers, Jesus leads with revelation, not condemnation.

• Nicodemus (John 3): Jesus explains spiritual rebirth, then anchors salvation in belief—“whoever believes in Him shall not perish.” No mention of remorse.

• The Samaritan Woman (John 4): Jesus exposes her life story, not to humiliate her, but to awaken her thirst for living water. She runs to tell her town—no tears, only testimony.

• Zacchaeus (Luke 19): He welcomes Jesus joyfully, and only then offers restitution. Faith came first; conviction followed.

• The Thief on the Cross (Luke 23): He expresses simple faith—“Remember me when You come into Your kingdom.” Jesus responds, “Today you will be with Me in paradise.” No time for an apology, yet perfect faith.

In all of these, belief ignites transformation—not remorse.

3. Jesus’ Preaching to the Crowds (Mark 1:15, Matthew 4, Luke 10)

When Jesus proclaims, “Repent and believe the good news,” He’s not saying, “Be sorry so that God will love you.”
He’s saying, “Change your mind about God—His kingdom is here!”

He sends the Twelve and the Seventy-Two to preach the same message: the nearness of God, peace to every house, healing for the sick.
Even His warnings (“Woe to you, Chorazin!”) target unbelief, not insufficient remorse.

When crowds repent, it means they believe His good news—not that they have mastered the art of feeling bad.

4. The Apostolic Evangelism Pattern (Acts 2–11)

When the Holy Spirit falls at Pentecost, Peter preaches boldly that God has made Jesus both Lord and Christ, imploring them to believe, and then, “this Jesus whom you crucified.” While they don’t start with sin conviction, this and Acts 3 are the only clear examples where the evangelist includes a purposeful conviction of sin—but it’s one particular sin, the crucifixion of Jesus.

The crowd is “cut to the heart.” Their emotion is real—their community had sinned grievously, they killed the long awaited Messiah—because they hadn’t believed who He was. Peter’s command is:
“Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.”

That repentance is a turning from unbelief to belief.
The sorrow only becomes redemptive when it births faith in the risen Christ.

Later, when Peter preaches again (Acts 3), he says, “Repent, then, and turn to God, that your sins may be wiped out.”
His message is not “feel guilty,” but “believe the good news so you can be refreshed.”

When Peter speaks to Cornelius (Acts 10), he simply proclaims that “everyone who believes in Him receives forgiveness of sins.”
While he is still speaking, the Spirit falls.
No one even has time to weep first.

Every apostolic sermon shows the same pattern: the call is to believe; the outcome is forgiveness; the conviction is God’s work, not ours.

5. Paul’s Evangelism Among the Gentiles (Acts 14, 17–18)

When Paul preaches in Lystra, Athens, Corinth, and Philippi, his message is the same:
God is near, the Creator is good, and the risen Jesus is proof of God’s love.
He calls people to turn from idols to the living God—not to wallow in guilt.

In Athens, Paul quotes their poets and says, “We are indeed His offspring.” Then he urges them to repent—that is, to change their thinking and believe in the “Unknown God,” the One whom God raised from the dead. No mention of sin or hell.

Some mock. Some hesitate. Some believe.
But no one is told to first prove remorse to earn grace.

The Pattern Is Consistent

Out of all twenty-two calls of the unbeliever:

• None begin with sorrow or confession of sin.

• All begin with a faith invitation—“follow, believe, come, receive.”

• Only three mention sin, and always in the positive context of forgiveness.

• Three warn of the penalty of unbelief—not the penalty of personal sin.

• All twenty-two start with good news.

The gospel message itself is not “you’re bad—be sorry.”
It’s “God is good—believe Him.”

When Sorrow Becomes a Substitute for Faith

The danger of the “sorrow for sins first” approach is that it replaces belief with emotion.
If salvation depends on how sorry I feel, then I’m trusting in my feelings—not in Christ’s finished work.
That’s not grace. That’s self-salvation through guilt.

The Role of Sorrow in Growing Faith

New believers will almost certainly experience sorrow for sin as their faith begins to blossom. The Holy Spirit convicts (John 16:8) the heart and awakens a deeper awareness of what separated us from God. That conviction often brings real remorse—not only for personal sin, but for having run from God’s love in the past.

In that sense, repentance in the emotional sense naturally follows repentance in the biblical sense.

The confusion arises because believers also experience relief and closeness after confessing sins as part of an ongoing fellowship with God. We can easily confuse that post-salvation confession with what’s required before salvation. For an unbeliever, sorrow for sin might feel righteous in the moment, but without faith, it produces only guilt, and no salvation. Moreover, when conviction is initiated by man instead of the Spirit, it can leave the unbeliever feeling judged rather than loved.

Confession of sin strengthens a faith relationship that was weakened by a stumble. But confession of sin can never start a relationship with God—only faith can do that.

The Spirit brings remorse after faith takes root—not before.

The Faith Forward Alignment

Jesus offered good news that awakens faith, not fear.
He led with mercy, not mourning.
He drew people by revealing God’s kindness, not demanding displays of regret.

Romans 2:4 says, “God’s kindness leads you to repentance.”
In other words, grace causes repentance—not the other way around.

When people encounter the goodness of God, their hearts naturally turn toward Him. That’s true repentance.

Why This Matters for Our Evangelism Today

• If we teach that sorrow earns forgiveness, we turn repentance into performance.

• If we lead with guilt, people associate God with shame, not love.

• If we emphasize grace, people meet a Father who runs toward them before they can even speak their apology.

Faith Forward evangelism trusts that the Spirit brings conviction and renewal through love—not through the weight of regret.

This Is Why I Wrote Faith Forward Gospel

Many believers still think salvation hinges on what the unbeliever feels instead of what Jesus finished. That’s why I wrote Faith Forward Gospel—to show that true repentance is a turning of faith toward Jesus, not a ritual of sorrow.

Faith Forward Gospel analyzes the biblical pattern Jesus actually used. You’ll be astounded at how many myths we’ve developed around faith in the risen Christ.

Faith Forward Gospel is on Amazon, debuted as #1 New Release in Christian Evangelism. The e-book is half-price on my website. Click here to explore the book and see how a faith-forward approach transforms evangelism.

“If words alone had power to save, the crowds following Jesus would have been instant churches.”

Recently, I was in another conversation where a Christian insisted that our job is simply to say the words of the gospel—specifically the sin and hell script—because “the message itself has power.”

In their view, the formula is simple:

Say the right words → the person hears → the words trigger conviction → they repent and believe.

Almost like divine cause-and-effect. Almost like magic.

And consequently, they insist we are obligated to preach the sin-forward message—because “that’s what activates salvation.”

But is that actually what Scripture teaches? More importantly, is that what Jesus did?

The Assumption: Words Themselves Have Saving Power

The line of thinking goes like this:

· Romans 1:16 says the gospel is “the power of God for salvation.”

· 1 Corinthians says “the word of the cross… is the power of God.”

· Isaiah 55 says God’s word “will not return void.”

· Romans 10:17 says “faith comes by hearing.”

These verses, they argue, mean that if we tell a person the gospel message, it activates an impetus toward salvation—even if the hearer is offended by it.

But a close reading of those very texts undermines that claim:

· Romans 1:16 ends with “to everyone who believes.” The words don’t save; faith does.

· 1 Corinthians says it is power to those who are being saved. To others, the same words are “foolishness.”

· Romans 10 describes many who hear and still do not believe.

In every case, Scripture consistently teaches this: hearing gives the opportunity to believe—it does not create belief automatically.

The power is not in syllables. The power is in trusting Christ. Faith saves.

And this explains what we see in the Bible: Jesus preached his good news and performed miracles to tens of thousands—people flocked to him. But most of them did not find saving faith.

If the message itself had automatic activating power, the crowds would have been transformed into instant churches. They didn’t.

Why Some Christians Still Insist on the Sin-Forward Script

This is where the pressure comes in.

If someone believes salvation is triggered by hearing “the gospel,” and they define “the gospel” as human sin → hell → judgment, then they feel morally obligated to tell unbelievers:

“You’re a sinner. You’re going to hell. You need to repent of your sins.”

This becomes a duty, not because Jesus modeled it, but because of a theological assumption:

They believe the words themselves activate salvation.

So if those words are not spoken they fear the person cannot believe.

This is why many reject Jesus’ Faith Forward approach, despite all the scriptural proof. They have an assumption stuck in the back of their minds: the sin and hell story has to be preached in order for someone to have a chance at being saved.

But this entire objection collapses when we remove the superstition that the words themselves carry power. Faith alone carries power.

Jesus never treated the gospel like a formula. He treated faith as the activating ingredient. Jesus led with the faith story, not the sin story.

If We’re Commanded to Follow Jesus, Why Don’t We Share the Good News the Way He Did?

Here is the astonishing thing:

Jesus never treated the message like a mechanical trigger. He treated faith as the activating ingredient—not fear, not shame, not sin accounting.

He did not say, “You must hear the sin-and-hell script.” He said, “Believe in me.”

He invited trust, relationship, discovery. He gave good news before hard news. He gave light before warnings. He awakened curiosity, not terror.

Every time.

And, as Faith Forward Gospel explains, Jesus didn’t tell unbelievers they were going to hell for personal sin. He did not weaponize fear. He pursued people with healing, mercy, and revelation—inviting them into faith first.

Which means: If Jesus Himself did not use the sin-forward script with unbelievers then we are not obligated to either.

Worse yet, using it means we are going outside of His model of speaking to unbelievers, violating His command to follow Him.

Why This Matters for Our Evangelism Today

When Christians assume the message itself has magic power, we end up:

· reducing evangelism to formula,

· rushing people into a sin-and-hell script,

· forcing fear-based conversations,

· damaging trust,

· misrepresenting Jesus,

· pushing unbelievers into a corner, further from faith.

But when we follow Jesus’ faith-forward, relational, invitational approach:

· conversations open,

· defenses lower,

· curiosity awakens,

· the Spirit has room to work,

· people discover God’s goodness,

· faith becomes possible.

The difference is massive.

This Is Why I Wrote Faith Forward Gospel

Because millions of Christians are doing evangelism with a method Jesus never used—one based on pressure, obligation, and fear rather than the beauty of God’s goodness.

Faith Forward Gospel shows the biblical pattern Jesus actually used—and the results are entirely different.

Faith Forward Gospel is on Amazon as #1 New Release in Christian Evangelism. And the e-book is half-price on my website. Click here to explore the book and see how a faith-forward approach transforms evangelism.

It feels familiar—three short stories we’ve all preached, studied, or skimmed. But if you sit with them long enough, something begins to stir.

Jesus’ final words before the cross don’t sound like what we expect from a final warning.

• There’s no list of sins.

• No thunder of judgment.

• Just lamps, coins, and compassion.

And hidden inside them—a single thread that changes everything about how we live the Christian life.

Act I — The Oil and the Lonely Hour

Ten bridesmaids wait for the bridegroom. All carry lamps, but only half carry extra oil. When the midnight cry comes, the unprepared turn desperate:

“Can we borrow your oil?”

The wise shake their heads. “Good luck with that.”

In that moment we glimpse something sobering: preparedness can’t be shared.

You can’t borrow intimacy. You can’t inherit faith. Every one of us will stand naked and alone before the Bridegroom. No family name, no denomination, no borrowed belief will help.

The oil we’ve purchased for ourselves—the presence of God we’ve cultivated in secret—is all we’ll have. That oil keeps our faith burning hot when the night is long and the waiting stretches on.

And maybe (?) the coming judgment is going to be different than we thought.

Act II — The Talents and the Hidden Fear

Then the Master leaves His estate in the servants’ hands. He doesn’t invite them to join a club; He invites them to work in and enrich His Kingdom.

Two servants invest. One buries. When the Master returns, He calls the investors faithful and welcomes them into His joy. The other calls the Master hard—he “knew” Him, but didn’t trust His goodness.

Fear buried his faith.

The irony? The joy we crave is the very wage He pays for fruitful work. If joy is missing, perhaps we’re showing up but not stepping in. Standing with a lamp, but without enough oil.

The story is getting intriguing in its weaving: Buy more oil—get closer to Him—by engaging in what he called us to do.

And the joy, don’t forget the joy part. The stream of His will is where joy runs deepest. The ones who get closest to Him and produce for Him, get His joy!

Playing church isn’t enough to get His joy; followers of Jesus are called to stock up on intimacy oil and increase the wealth of the Kingdom.

High faith gets higher yet, taken from the ones with little faith. Wow—what a strange economy!

Act III — The Sheep, the Goats, and the Shock

Finally, the Son of Man sits to judge. And now we’re ready for the big reveal—surely this is the moment when sin takes the spotlight.

Except… it doesn’t.

“I was hungry and you didn’t feed Me… a stranger and you didn’t welcome Me.”

The Judge speaks not of what people did wrong but of what they never did.

Our Sin-Forward culture finds this almost scandalous. We’ve been trained to expect punishment for behavior, not exposure of unbelief. But through Matthew’s gospel—and especially here in His closing parables—Jesus keeps teaching the same truth: intangible faith expresses itself in tangible production.

But what happened to sin? Why is it conspicuously missing from Jesus teachings? Because the Lamb of God is about to take that away! He’s headed for the cross!

What remains is the question of faith—did we trust Him enough to love like Him?

The faithful saw Jesus in the hungry, the sick, the forgotten. The faithless walked past Him every day.

The final judgment reveals faith, not failure. Love is its evidence.

Three Stories, One Kingdom Thread

Stay faithful—keep your lamp lit, burning hot, with the oil of gladness. Intimacy is rewarded with a blessed life, today.

Stay fruitful—invest what He’s entrusted, take chances, you were not re-birthed for heaven, you were commissioned to enrich the Kingdom, now.

Stay merciful—love the least. He loves who you are looking at. Follow Him. In the moment.

That’s the secret Jesus left hiding in plain sight. The real Kingdom test has never been about avoiding sin; it’s about living faith forward.

Our sin is paid for, so that what? So that we can move on to today’s real meal with Jesus—where faith is feasting, and joy is the table.

Living Faith Forward

Faith Forward Gospel unearths the nuggets of Jesus’ teachings buried beneath the rubble and destruction of the Sin Forward goggles we’ve been told to wear. Jesus invited us into His joy abundant, and made it evident to the ears that could hear. If your ears are tickling, there’s more to tackle.

So let’s buy the oil, spend the talents, and feed the hungry. Because when the door finally opens and the King says, “Enter into the joy of your Master,” we’ll already recognize the feeling—we’ve been living in it all along.

To explore this good-news way of understanding Jesus’ message, read Faith Forward Gospel—now available at half price on the author’s website. Published just three weeks ago it’s Amazon’s #1 New Release, in Christian Evangelism. Find out why.

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It’s a common belief. After all, Jesus began His ministry saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!”

Most of us have heard it taught that repentance is step one of salvation—a demand to admit our sin, feel sorry for it, and stop doing it. Two steps and you’re in heaven: 1-Repent 2-Believe. We’ve created numerous methods, including The Romans Road and The Four Spiritual Laws, to align with that sequence when talking with unbelievers.

But something doesn’t line up.

If Jesus truly told everyone to start their spiritual journey with guilt and apology, why don’t we see Him doing that with the unbelievers He met? He didn’t walk up to the woman caught in adultery and say, “You need to admit you’re a sinner headed for hell.” He didn’t tell Zacchaeus, “Confess your greed before you climb down from that tree.” He didn’t tell the Samaritan woman, “Say the sinner’s prayer and give me a drink.”

So if Jesus didn’t lead with moral repentance, yet he instructed us that “Repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations,” maybe we’ve misunderstood what He meant.

A Word That Got Lost in Translation

The Greek word Jesus used is metanoia—literally “to change one’s mind” or “to turn back.” It’s an action word, but it doesn’t include what you’re turning from or toward. Somewhere along the way, we added “from sin” into the definition. That addition—well-intentioned as it was—completely changed how we present the Gospel.

Instead of “Change your mind and believe the good news,” we started saying, “Be sorry for your sins so you can be forgiven.”

That subtle shift moved the Gospel from being good news to bad news followed by good news. It turned the invitation of Jesus into a formula: feel guilty, commit not to sin, then believe.

But Jesus’ order was never that rigid. In fact, belief—trust—was the starting line of His conversations. When people believed, Jesus forgave, and repentance naturally followed because their minds had already changed.

Repentance Is Not Regret Your Sin

In Faith Forward Gospel, we come to realize through a thorough, perhaps even geeky, exploration of scripture that Jesus never told unbelievers they were going to hell for personal sin; He told them they were invited into life. He didn’t shame the lost—He sought them. He didn’t condemn the guilty—He forgave them.

That’s repentance as metanoia. It’s a change of perspective so profound that your direction shifts. But notice: the change is toward God, not away from sin. The turn happens because the Kingdom—the King Himself—has appeared.

When Jesus said, “Repent and believe the Gospel,” He wasn’t saying, “Feel bad because you’re sinful.” He was saying, “Open your eyes! God’s Kingdom has arrived right in front of you. Don’t miss it!”

It was an invitation, not an accusation.

Repentance Is Wonder, Not Woe

Imagine Jesus standing in Galilee, announcing, “The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand.” Those words carried electricity. People had waited centuries for God’s Messiah to arrive. His message to the everyday Jew wasn’t, “You’ve failed.” It was, “Look up! Heaven is invading earth!”

“Repent,” then, means to change how you see reality. Stop living like God is far away. Turn your eyes from fear, shame, anxiety, and unbelief—and see that the King has come close, the tree of life is here, taste of it.

That’s why Jesus could talk to adulterers, tax collectors, and skeptics with such calm authority. He was inviting them to think differently about God. He knew that when they saw the Father as He really is—merciful, present, generous—their lives would change more deeply than human induced guilt ever could.

The Problem With a Sin-Forward Gospel

When we tell people, “You’re a sinner going to hell, but Jesus loves you,” we lead with bad news that they never heard from Jesus’ mouth. It’s no wonder most unbelievers tune us out. It might make sense to us, but for an unbeliever it’s weird double-speak. In Faith Forward Gospel, we explore how western evangelism often backfires because we begin with judgment. The soil is too hard for that human seed. The Spirit convicts; we don’t have to.

The Roman’s Road is true, because all scripture is true. But upon closer analysis, Jesus’ Road begins with faith: “If you knew the gift of God, you would ask Him, and He would give you living water.”

He didn’t start with condemnation. He started with curiosity.

When unbelievers experience that kind of repentance—a changed mind about who God is—they become ready for transformation. Conviction of sin comes, as surely as the sun will rise, but as a work of the Holy Spirit (Jn 16:8-9) not a tactic of the evangelist.

Repentance as Invitation to Joy

Repentance isn’t just for unbelievers—it’s a daily rhythm for disciples. Every day, the Spirit whispers, “Change your mind again—see Me more clearly.”

In Faith Forward Gospel, “Faith Forward means we will use kindness and grace to tell everyone the reasons to pursue faith.” It’s not about swinging for the fences or counting salvations. It’s about living in constant awareness that God is near, redirecting hearts—ours and others’—toward His goodness.

That’s what Jesus modeled. Repentance was not about remorse; it was about realignment. Every healing, every act of mercy, every teaching was a call to re-see reality through the eyes of faith.

How This Changes Everything

If repentance means “change your mind toward God,” then evangelism changes too. It’s no longer an argument about morality. It’s an announcement of hope.

Instead of saying, “You need to repent of your sins,” we can say, “Change your mind about who God is. He’s better than you think.”

That shift reclaims the tone of Jesus. It transforms conversations from confrontations into invitations. It moves our message from fear to faith, from accusation to awe.

And isn’t that what our world needs most right now? Not another sermon about everything that’s wrong, but an encounter with what’s right—the love of a Father who still runs toward prodigals with open arms.

The Kingdom Is Still at Hand

Repentance, rightly understood, is the most joyful command ever given. It’s the doorway to freedom. It’s the moment we realize God isn’t waiting to punish us—He’s running to embrace us.

So yes, Jesus told people to repent. But He wasn’t saying, “Be sorry.” He was saying, “Wake up. God is here. Don’t miss His goodness.”

That’s the Gospel worth sharing.
That’s Faith Forward.
That’s metanoia.

Praise Jesus! All glory to the Lamb!

Faith Forward Gospel spent 18 months in beta—73 beta readers from all over the world and the denominational map. Most loved it. A few hated it because it didn’t seem possible it was right. Yet, with all the scriptural arguments they could muster including dozens of their colleagues who weighed in on the topic, nobody could break the thesis with scripture, only tradition. It’s out now, changing Christian’s words with unbelievers, changing ministries. It’s time to follow Jesus, even closer.

Pastors and ministry leaders — if this intrigues you, there’s more waiting in Faith Forward Gospel-7 Myths that Brought Down the Church and How to Build it Back. It’s a call to recover the way Jesus actually spoke to unbelievers — the way that still changes lives today.

Available now on Amazon and half price at my website. Click here to explore the book.

“God can’t be around you in your sinful state.”

It may sound like reverence. It may sound biblical. But it’s neither. In fact, it directly contradicts the gospel Jesus lived and preached. And until we rip this phrase from our vocabulary, we will continue misrepresenting the very God we claim to follow.

It’s time we get this right. It’s time to step into the real gospel.

Jesus Never Said What We Keep Repeating

In Faith Forward Gospel, we walk carefully through every gospel encounter Jesus had with unbelievers. What we find is stunning.

Not once did Jesus tell an unbeliever that they were going to hell for their personal sin. Not once did He say, “You’re too sinful for God to be near.” Not once did He hold up someone’s sin like a trophy of shame and demand they get clean, or even confess, before He got close.

Instead?

He invited Himself to the house of a crooked tax collector before any repentance was shown.
He touched lepers.
He offered living water to a woman with a dark and painful past.
He refused to condemn a woman caught in adultery.
He defended the sinful from the religious.

Every one of these moments is the opposite of that tired phrase. Jesus didn’t run from people in sin. He ran toward them. He brought the very presence of God into their brokenness.

The message wasn’t “clean up first.” It was “Come to Me.”

If God Can’t Be Around Sin, Jesus Couldn’t Have Come

Let’s play this out logically. If God truly “can’t be around sin,” then what was Jesus doing walking among us?

What was He doing touching the unclean? Sitting with the broken? Holding the hand of the dead? Carrying our sin on the cross?

Scripture is clear: “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself.” (2 Corinthians 5:19)

The cross is not proof of separation. It’s the ultimate declaration of presence. At our lowest, most sinful, most rebellious moment, God did not run away—He drew closer than ever.

That’s not a God who avoids us in sin. That’s a God who enters it to redeem us.

Holiness Doesn’t Mean Fragility—It Means Power

The problem is we’ve misunderstood holiness. We’ve treated it like it’s breakable. As if God’s purity is fragile—contaminated by proximity to sin.

But God’s holiness isn’t fragile. It’s fierce. It doesn’t retreat—it advances.

Jesus didn’t become unclean when He touched the leper. The leper became clean.

That’s holiness. That’s gospel power. And that’s what we’re invited to carry.

Which brings us to the real call of Faith Forward Gospel.

The Gospel Isn’t Just to Be Preached. It’s to Be Lived

The mistake of the Sin Forward gospel is that it focuses on warning people of sin and hell, assuming that fear will lead to repentance. But Jesus didn’t lead with fear. He led with good news. With invitation. With presence. With faith.

And now, He has commissioned us to do the same.

You aren’t meant to walk through the world avoiding darkness. You are meant to carry the light of the kingdom into it.

You aren’t called to sit back and tell people how sinful they are. You are called to bring the presence of God into their pain, their confusion, their depression, their fear.

You are a carrier of holiness—not to judge—but to heal.

Everywhere Jesus went, people were changed. And everywhere you go, they can be too.

When someone is angry, you bring peace.
When someone is anxious, you bring presence.
When someone is shamed, you bring mercy.
When someone is crushed, you bring life.

Not by clever arguments. Not by religious performance. But by carrying Christ in you—the hope of glory.

This is what Faith Forward Gospel is all about.

It’s not a method or a message. It’s a way of being. A way of seeing. A way of walking through this world as Jesus did.

And it starts with throwing out the old script. The one that says “God can’t be near you.”
And replacing it with the truth: “God is already here. And He’s calling you to life.”

Want to Learn the Way Jesus Actually Shared the Gospel?

If this resonates with you—if you’ve long suspected that the gospel must be better than what we’ve been told—you’re right.

The way Jesus shared the good news is not only more loving, it’s more powerful. And it’s time we return to it.

That’s what Faith Forward Gospel: 7 Myths That Brought Down the Church and How to Build It Back is all about. It unpacks why Jesus spoke to unbelievers the way He did—and how the church lost its way by preaching condemnation instead of invitation.

In this book, you’ll discover:

• The actual words Jesus used with unbelievers—and how different they are from our modern evangelism

• Why judgmental preaching has stalled the church’s growth

• The 60-30-10 principle: how Jesus allocated His convicting words

• How to walk in the same Spirit-led, good-news-centered life Jesus modeled

If you’re ready to stop pushing people away with fear and start drawing them with life…
If you’re ready to be part of a movement that sounds like Jesus, loves like Jesus, and lives like Jesus…

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7–19

When we read the word sin in Scripture, most of us immediately think of the personal sins Paul lists—

“sexual immorality, impurity, idolatry, jealousy, fits of anger, envy, drunkenness, and the like.”
(Galatians 5:19–21)

These are real. They damage relationships and souls.
But in Hebrews 3, the author warns of something deeper—
the sin beneath all sins: unbelief.

“Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion…”
(Hebrews 3:7–8)

The passage recalls Israel’s wilderness story.
They had seen miracles—Red Sea parted, manna given—yet they still doubted God’s goodness.
Their rebellion wasn’t lust or greed or murder.
It was disbelief.

“So we see that they were unable to enter because of unbelief.”
(Hebrews 3:19)

This is the point modern readers often miss.
We’ve been trained to read sin as a moral checklist,
but the Bible often uses sin to describe a breach of faith.

As Faith Forward Gospel explains:

“The problem is not sin. The problem is unbelief. Sin is the symptom.”

In God’s eyes, unbelief is not a small lapse in confidence—it is spiritual treason.
It questions His character.
It says, “I know better.”

Hebrews makes that painfully clear.
God’s people didn’t fall in the desert because they broke ritual law,
but because they stopped believing He was for them.
Their “evil, unbelieving heart” (3:12) caused them to drift from the living God.

Personal sin flows from that root.
Every moral failure starts with an act of disbelief:

“God won’t provide, so I’ll take what I want.”
“God won’t forgive, so I’ll hide.”
“God isn’t near, so I’ll comfort myself.”

Sin is the symptom; unbelief is the disease.

If we don’t see these warnings about falling into unbelief,
we risk missing the main event—the joy abundant—of living this life of faith.
The gifts of God, such as the fruit of the Spirit, can seem elusive not because God withholds them, but because we stop believing He will actually deliver them.

It takes faith to believe that Jesus is the Christ. Surely.
But what about believing the exhaustive list of good news that flows from living in faith? Peace that passes understanding. Joy in suffering. Love that doesn’t run out.

When our belief shrinks to doctrine alone,
the fruits of the Spirit fade from our experience.

The Israelites didn’t believe God would keep them alive after crossing the Red Sea—
or if they crossed the Jordan. They paid dearly for it.
Forty years of wandering aimlessly, just miles from the promised land.

Likewise, this is true for us.
We can live so close to God’s promises and never enter them,
not because we are immoral,
but because we stop believing He’s still delivering the fruit of the Spirit today.

As Faith Forward Gospel puts it:

“If you have ever wondered where the joy of Christ is… it’s Jesus’ path you need.
His Faith Forward path. You can live like Jesus even with all the pressures you are under.
Indeed, you will find everything you’ve been looking for all along—His joy, His peace amidst the storm, His blessed are’s.”

This is consistent throughout Scripture.
Eve didn’t eat because she was hungry—she ate because she didn’t believe God.
David wasn’t condemned for his worst sins but restored because his faith returned.
The difference between rebellion and repentance is belief.

That’s why the writer of Hebrews doesn’t say “Avoid sin”
but “Take care… lest there be in any of you an unbelieving heart.”
Faith is the line in the sand.
It is what pleases God (Hebrews 11:6).
It is what keeps us alive in the desert.

So today, if you hear His voice,
don’t harden your heart with cynicism or self-reliance.
The call is not to moral perfection but to renewed, bold belief.
Faith is not naïve—it is obedience at its highest form.
It trusts that God means what He says, even when life looks barren.

Because in God’s vocabulary, unbelief is sin.
And faith—simple, steady, stubborn faith—
is the doorway to rest.

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In Matthew 25, Jesus describes the day when the Son of Man will come in glory and separate all people, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. Everyone in the story is surprised. Nobody expects the criteria He uses. It’s not the things we’ve been told to fear. The separation isn’t based on sexual sin, or murder, or lies. It isn’t about moral perfection, theological precision, or doctrinal loyalty.

It’s about mercy.
It’s about basic human decency — giving a drink of water to the thirsty, welcoming a stranger, visiting someone who’s sick or in prison.

When Jesus turns to the sheep, He doesn’t commend their purity, their tithing, or their church attendance. He says, “I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink. I was a stranger, and you welcomed Me.”

The righteous are puzzled: “When did we do that, Lord?” And Jesus answers, “When you did it for the least of these, you did it for Me.”

That’s the moment that should make every one of us pause. The King of the universe identifies Himself with the hurting, the overlooked, the vulnerable—and we’ve all been there. The eternal separation of heaven and hell, Jesus says, runs straight through how we treat human beings.

It’s not about what we avoided. It’s about basic human decency.

The Surprise Ending Nobody Saw Coming

For centuries, many Christians have been trained to think that salvation hinges on what we don’t do — don’t lust, don’t lie, don’t steal. We’ve been told that the truly faithful are the ones who call out sin, who defend moral boundaries, who keep the world in line.

But Jesus didn’t tell a story about that. He told a story about people who fed the hungry.

He never said, “I was doctrinally confused and you corrected Me.”

He said, “I was naked, and you clothed Me.”

The shock of this parable is that Jesus ties our eternal destiny not to moral rule-keeping but to compassion. And that should unsettle every self-righteous bone in our body.

The goats didn’t fail because they were wicked monsters. They failed because they didn’t notice. They stepped over suffering. They walked past thirst and hunger. They missed Jesus hiding in plain sight.

Faith That Works Through Love

Faith Forward Gospel reveals a somewhat geeky analysis of scripture proving that Jesus never told unbelievers they were going to hell for their personal sins (though He did to believers). His message to the unbelieving world wasn’t “Repent of what you’ve done wrong,” but “Repent — change your mind — and believe the good news.”

And what is that good news? That the Kingdom of God is here, now. That God is close. That love rules the day. That the Father’s mercy is not a reward at the end of life but a power available right now to transform how we live and how we treat others.

The sheep and goats parable is one of the purest expressions of that gospel. The sheep weren’t trying to earn points; they were simply living in the Kingdom. They believed God’s love enough to let it overflow. They weren’t scoring eternal rewards — they were embodying heaven on earth.

Faith Forward living means exactly that: we move through life so aware of God’s grace toward us that mercy becomes our instinct. We stop judging who deserves it and just give it, because that’s what our Father is like.

When faith matures, it doesn’t become more judgmental — it becomes more merciful.

When Mercy Becomes the Measure

If this parable makes you uncomfortable, that’s a good sign. Jesus wanted it to. It means we’re finally hearing His words instead of our traditions.

The real test of our faith isn’t how loudly we denounce sin but how freely we pour out mercy. The dividing line between sheep and goats runs through every church, every neighborhood, every human heart — through me and through you.

When I read this story, I don’t see “them” and “us.” I see moments when I walked right past someone in pain. I see times when I chose convenience over compassion. And yet, the good news of the Kingdom is that it’s never too late to change direction.

The door to mercy is always open.

Jesus wasn’t giving us a guilt trip. He was giving us an invitation — to live in the kind of faith that loves instinctively. To see Him in faces that others ignore. To let mercy become our reflex. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” Matt 5:7

Faith Forward Living Starts Here

If you want to live like a sheep in a world of goats, don’t start by judging others. Start by asking Jesus to open your eyes. Let Him show you where He’s standing thirsty, hungry, lonely, or forgotten in the people around you.

And then act — not out of guilt, but out of gratitude. Because that’s what Jesus followers do. We’ve received mercy, so we give it away.

Jesus’ story still shocks the world because it reveals what God values most. In the end, the only thing that lasts — the only thing that matters — is love.

Heaven and hell aren’t divided by who sinned less.
They’re divided by who let love flow more.

That’s the faith that moves forward.
That’s the gospel Jesus preached.
And that’s the life we’re called to live — right now.

Faith Forward Gospel: 7 Myths that Brought Down the Church and How to Build it Back is in beta.
If you’d like to learn more, or read it in full, click here.