Tag Archives: christianity

Where Does Time Go? The Mental Battle

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Today I found myself thinking about… well, everything I’m thinking about. My mind wandered through thoughts of family—children, grandchildren, close friends. And if you’re in ministry, you know how quickly the mind shifts toward other ministries and ministry leaders: how they function, how healthy they are, what’s working, what’s failing. You think about your own past, the future you hope to build, and all the space in between.

In other words—you’re thinking about life.

If we’re not careful, all these layers of thought begin pulling more and more time and energy out of us. I catch myself so loaded with thoughts that it becomes difficult to find space for the things I want to do, or even room to explore new ideas God is stirring. Our thoughts jump from one category to another, and often we never reach a conclusion. Every unresolved thought demands more time, more emotional investment, more processing.

This morning, as I was contemplating what is actually consuming my time in ministry, I realized something surprising: it isn’t my actions that take the most energy—it’s my thinking. It’s how much time I spend mentally visiting all these different areas.

When you oversee a ministry, you are constantly thinking about what needs to change, how to move people forward, how to rightly discern the season and the future. Your heart weighs past prophetic words, current understanding, and what God is revealing next. You’re navigating the daily needs that keep a ministry functioning smoothly. And woven through all of this is the continual examination of your own calling—making sure you are on track, while also ensuring the ministry is on track. These are separate, yet deeply intertwined.

Then there’s the mental and spiritual load of ministering to people. When teaching or preaching, I often hear the thoughts of those I’m ministering to. Sometimes you hear their internal questions as you speak; sometimes you hear them later in counseling sessions. The bigger the person’s problem, the more mental space it occupies as you seek wisdom, clarity, and the right counsel.

All of this began to reveal something to me: many of these thoughts are pushing out the space I need for meditation on the Word of God. The noise of a day begins to crowd out the eternal whisper.

And then the question comes:

How much time do we spend meditating on what is eternal compared to what is temporary?

At the core, this is about the focus of our heart. We love people—so naturally we carry their burdens, their needs, their decisions. But we also love the eternal realm and the things of God. And it can feel like we are constantly living with a divided heart between the temporal needs of people and the eternal voice of God.

So the real question becomes:

How do we navigate the daily flood of thoughts and remain effective without burning out?

Paul gives us the key: “Take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.”
That means we have the ability—and the responsibility—to bring order to our thought life.

Paul also instructs us to “think on things that are pure, holy, lovely, and of good report.” Part of taking control of our thoughts is learning to bring them to a conclusion. Many thoughts keep spinning because we haven’t yet heard God concerning them. We keep analyzing, hoping new information will come, when what we actually need is the wisdom of God.

We need to pause. Step aside. Sit with the Father and the Holy Spirit.
Let our spirit be renewed.
Enter that place where the depths of His wisdom have no end.

Some problems simply have no answer outside of that place.

We think on past failures hoping not to repeat them. We try to help people make right decisions, but their answers can’t come from our intellect—they must come from the eternal realm and the wisdom of God.

I’m also convinced that we must return to meditating on the Word and the mysteries God is revealing. Those mysteries carry answers that settle the noise, calm the racing mind, and anchor us in truth. They quiet the mental chaos because they draw us back to what is eternal.

I have an analytical mind, and that can get me in great trouble if I’m not careful. But what I’ve learned is this:
If I take that analytical nature and aim it toward the Word of God, it becomes a gift—not a burden.

In the end, the question “Where does time go?” often brings us back to this simple truth:

Time is often lost not in what we do, but in what we allow our mind to carry. And God invites us—daily—to lay those thoughts down, listen for His wisdom, and live from the eternal place where clarity replaces chaos

Church and Culture: The Great Divide

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Over the years in ministry, through seasons of change and decades of serving in the calling, I’ve watched the landscape of the Church shift—again and again. New strategies rise, new expressions emerge, and cultural waves crash at the gates of the Body of Christ. There is always this desire to be “relevant,” to meet the world where it is. And yet, deep within the soul of the Church is a cry to recover the DNA of the early apostolic company. What we have is not just a tension—it’s a tug-of-war.

Relevance has become a buzzword. But relevance, when not anchored in truth, requires compromise. And compromise—though subtle—is deadly. To be relevant to culture often means we must absorb part of it. To speak to modern issues, we immerse ourselves in them. To communicate faith on the level of the hearer, we water it down. I’ve watched it happen slowly, incrementally. But over time, relevance begins to redefine our values.

But here’s the truth: the Church was never called to mirror culture. It was called to confront it. The early Church did not try to “relate” to Roman rule, or blend with religious traditions, cultic practices, or distorted values of life. They were unapologetically counter-cultural. They understood the call to be in the world, but not of it—and they lived it.

What’s disturbing is how far we’ve drifted. We’ve tried to attract the world by looking like it, thinking we can rescue people from worldliness while using worldly methods. We justify our compromises as “relatable.” Social drinking, carnal environments, and a diluted holiness have all found their way into our sanctuaries. But relevance without holiness produces confusion. We’ve normalized immaturity and called it maturity because someone knows both sides. Yet many of these are still babes—stuck at salvation, never maturing into discipleship, let alone Christ-likeness.

Who let these false ideas in?

Even well-intentioned efforts, if not grounded in truth, open the door to private interpretation. Jesus never spoke in vague language. He confronted error, exposed darkness, and raised a standard that was not only high but clearly understood. His invitation wasn’t to blend in—it was to follow Him. That meant dying to self, abandoning personal wisdom, living by faith, and ministering to souls, while not making friends with the world.

Today, everything is labeled “Christian” or “church,” even when the foundational truths are absent. Maybe the issue isn’t culture invading the church—but the Church lowering her standards.

I recently found myself reflecting on the early Church’s demands: the qualifications for elders, the weight of fivefold ministry, and the expectation that saints would do the work of ministry. There was an assumption that the life of Christ within the people would be so vibrant, it would require spiritual oversight by mature elders—those who carried God’s heart.

And they weren’t living in a vacuum. Their world was far more corrupt than ours: idols at every turn, public temples to demons, open witchcraft, Baal worship, the cruelty of Rome, the celebration of depravity. And yet in the midst of it all—they stood. Separated for the work. The Church didn’t just survive—it multiplied.

They had a clear vision: manifest the Kingdom of God.
They had a clear mission: preach the gospel of the Kingdom to the ends of the earth.
They had apostolic oversight: men who set doctrine and brought what was lacking into fullness.
They had eldership in cities who preserved what the apostles had established.

And still, through every age, with all the cultural pressures, false teachings, ego-driven ministries, and shifting models—the Church, the ekklesia, stands. Bruised, stretched, and reshaped at times—but never destroyed. She is still being refined. And yes, she will become the glorious Bride. She will be the one who delivers the Kingdom to the Father. She will rise in apostolic and prophetic order. She will become the ruling, reigning ones.

This is my hope.
This is my assignment.
This is my call.

To reveal the King and His Kingdom. To unveil the mystery: Christ in you, the hope of glory.

Do All Apostles Have Large Works?

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Let’s talk about something that quietly but deeply affects the way many in the Church think—especially in the West. There’s this lingering, often unspoken assumption that apostolic ministry is measured by the size of one’s structure. If it’s big, if it’s visible, if it’s functioning like a well-oiled machine, then surely—surely—that must mean there’s an apostle at the helm, right?

Not necessarily.

We’ve entered a time where titles are handed out like business cards, and large churches are seen as automatic qualifications for apostleship. But what I’ve found, again and again, is that many of these so-called apostles are actually brilliant administrators. Gifted managers. Skilled builders of systems and programs. But apostles? That’s another matter.

A true apostle doesn’t have to build something big—but they will always carry something weighty. Apostolic grace isn’t about the magnitude of your structure; it’s about the magnitude of your influence. That’s the mark. That’s the fruit. That’s the separating line. Myself I have been dismissed multiple times because I don’t have a “visibly” large ministry. The conclusion comes by measuring by worldly success, not having many bodies in seats, then there must not be much offered. Yet my greatest impact is not in a room but in multiplied “Rooms” all over the globe. How immature we are to measure by a worldly standard.

When I sit with leaders, I often ask a simple question: “Tell me about your apostleship.” What have you put in place that keeps moving without you being present? What has been established under your leadership that doesn’t collapse when you leave? What order have you brought from chaos? What foundations have been laid in equipping verses teaching?

Apostles don’t just plant—they align, they correct, they instruct, and they guard the truth. They are fiercely loyal to sound doctrine, deeply studied, and grieved when the Church begins drifting into error. Their heart isn’t to be the face of a movement—but to make sure that what is being built actually reflects the King and His Kingdom. They don’t want to be seen, but an apostolic people to be made known.

Consider Paul. He planted thirteen churches—but honestly, you might expect more from someone of his caliber. But here’s the thing: Paul’s influence didn’t stop with those thirteen. His epistles are still forming the foundation of the global Church today. His words are shaping faith in nations he never stepped foot in. That’s apostolic impact.

Or look at John the Revelator. He didn’t start a single church. He didn’t have a large following. But his heavenly vision brought the Church out of complacency and back into the reality of eternity. He stirred the Bride toward martyrdom and mission. He carried eternal influence, not institutional reach.

Real apostles don’t operate in time—they function from eternity. They see what’s not yet visible. They labor for a future expression of the Church, a people formed in the image of Christ. They send the right people into the right places at the right time. They see the whole work and move toward its completion.

They aren’t interested in building vast networks for name recognition. They’re building people into the fullness of Christ. Often hidden, they labor in the secret places. They test, they discern, they train. They look beyond charisma to character. They know that what’s sown in sound doctrine will reproduce for generations.

And let’s not forget the Apostle of all apostles—Jesus. He didn’t plant a single church in the traditional sense. But He birthed a movement that spans the globe and ages. His work wasn’t about building structures—it was about transforming lives and building a Kingdom. His influence is still the most potent on the earth today.

So, do all apostles have large works? Not always. But they will always have lasting fruit, eternal influence, and a legacy that outlives them.

When God Highlights Relationships

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There are moments when God puts His finger on something in a way that’s unmistakable. Right now, that something is relationships. It’s a time of divine connecting—where God is emphasizing the importance of healthy, spiritually aligned relationships while also allowing the unproductive ones to be sifted out.

The Strain in the Spirit

Many people are experiencing strained relationships right now. And strain almost always reveals weakness. It’s easy to assume we’re on the same page with someone—same desires, same values—until the moment of difference comes, and that difference introduces tension. Conflict creeps in. Harmony fades. Internal battles emerge, and suddenly, we find ourselves trying to control what feels like a spiritual slide.

This is the heart of why divorces happen, why dating relationships implode, and why so many friendships feel shallow and disappointing. We formed these relationships around circumstantial compatibility or emotional convenience rather than around a foundation built on Christ. When the foundation shifts—or proves faulty—the whole structure begins to crack.

What’s especially tragic is when this happens among believers. If Christians find themselves in relational chaos, it often means someone’s spiritual standard has dropped. Once the spiritual commonality erodes, the relationship naturally suffers. The strain is not just emotional—it’s deeply spiritual. It’s when the flesh gains dominance over the spirit that true connection breaks down.

Paul said he knew no man after the flesh. Our connections are meant to be spirit-to-spirit. When Christ, salvation, and the Kingdom are our shared center, then we find stability in relationships. But when those pillars are ignored or slowly abandoned, the relationship suffers. I’ve seen this repeatedly over years of ministry. And for those who choose to keep the standard, it can be incredibly painful.

Why? Because when someone walks away from a spiritually bonded relationship, they aren’t just walking away from a person. They’re walking away from a covenant and a grace that was available. And that covenant wasn’t based on preference—it was a spiritual agreement to walk together for the sake of Christ and His Kingdom. The grace was given to perform the assignment together. This is why it cuts so deep. It’s not just about compatibility; it’s about co-laboring with God and each other. That’s why when someone walks away, it can feel like a silent message saying, “You, and what you’re doing, have no value.”

And yet, this isn’t new. I’ve had to navigate this type of grief time and again. You never fully get used to it. The key is guarding your heart so it doesn’t become hard. I’ve had to remind myself that when someone breaks fellowship, it’s often out of unresolved hurt, pride, or spiritual confusion. But I’ve also seen the mercy of God restore those same people—sometimes years later when they hear God, repent, and return.

A War of Spirit vs. Flesh

The greatest strain in any relationship happens when the spirit and the flesh collide—whether it’s within one person or between two people. That internal war becomes external. What was once cherished turns contentious. The enemy loves to use these moments to isolate us and discourage us, and if we’re not careful, we begin to mistrust future relationships and harden our expectations.

But with the right spiritual lens, we can see the truth: it’s a battle of dominion. Will the Spirit of God define how we relate to others? Or will we keep building around personal preference, emotional needs, and shared hobbies?

Common interests might make friendships feel fun, but they’ll never sustain a spiritual bond. Without spiritual unity—without Christ at the center—disappointment is inevitable. And we set ourselves up for it when we blur those lines.

The Bible is clear: we’re to steward our relationships intentionally. Relationships with unbelievers exist, yes, but mostly for the sake of bringing the gospel of the kingdom to them. Within the Body, however, we are meant to have deeper, more meaningful connections—relationships that carry counsel, support, accountability, and shared purpose.

But not every Christian relationship is healthy. I always ask: Is this someone I’d want my children to follow? Is their life a model I’d want reproduced? Because who we allow close will always shape us. You don’t seek marriage advice from someone with a broken marriage. You don’t ask spiritual counsel from someone who refuses to walk in fellowship with the Body. Relationships may be ordained by God—but their maintenance is our responsibility.

Boundaries, Not Breaks

2 Thessalonians 3:6-7 gives us a bold directive: “Withdraw from every brother who walks disorderly.” That’s a hard word for our modern ears, but it’s straight from the Word. The Greek idea of “withdraw” is not to fully sever ties but to reorder the relationship. It’s about setting boundaries.

That word “disorderly” speaks volumes. It’s not about someone struggling—it’s about someone who refuses to submit to the structure and order of God. They walk independently, unaccountable, out of step with the Body, and in opposition to sound doctrine. That’s the person Scripture warns us to distance from—not to punish, but to give space for God to bring repentance.

Immature Christians think boundaries are rejection. But boundaries actually protect what’s valuable. They determine how much of our heart, our time, our spiritual energy we invest. Relationships must be measured by spiritual maturity, not just sentiment.

Paul takes it further in 1 Corinthians 5, saying we shouldn’t even eat with a believer who lives like the world. Not the sinner outside the Church—but the brother inside it who refuses to be transformed. This is about spiritual stewardship. If we keep close ties with unrepentant believers, we enable their dysfunction and invite confusion. Sometimes, the most loving thing we can do is let go. Yes, it’s hard. I’ve walked it. I’ve had to limit connections with uncorrectable believers, disengage from those choosing worldliness.

The Kingdom of God is relational at its core. God places us in the Body not just for function, but for fellowship. True koinonia isn’t about coffee and casual talk—it’s about sharing spiritual life, helping one another become who God intended.

Take an honest inventory: Who are you walking with? Who’s helping you grow in Christ? Who are you helping in return? Are your leaders truly discipling you, or are you stuck in a cycle of peer mentoring with no real transformation?

God-ordained relationships will challenge you, stretch you, and grow you. Cultivate those. Guard those. And be willing to release what no longer carries His breath.

Church and Culture: The Great Divide

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Over the years in ministry, through seasons of change and decades of serving in the calling, I’ve watched the landscape of the Church shift—again and again. New strategies rise, new expressions emerge, and cultural waves crash at the gates of the Body of Christ. There is always this desire to be “relevant,” to meet the world where it is. And yet, deep within the soul of the Church is a cry to recover the DNA of the early apostolic company. What we have is not just a tension—it’s a tug-of-war.

Relevance has become a buzzword. But relevance, when not anchored in truth, requires compromise. And compromise—though subtle—is deadly. To be relevant to culture often means we must absorb part of it. To speak to modern issues, we immerse ourselves in them. To communicate faith on the level of the hearer, we water it down. I’ve watched it happen slowly, incrementally. But over time, relevance begins to redefine our values.

But here’s the truth: the Church was never called to mirror culture. It was called to confront it. The early Church did not try to “relate” to Roman rule, or blend with religious traditions, cultic practices, or distorted values of life. They were unapologetically counter-cultural. They understood the call to be in the world, but not of it—and they lived it.

What’s disturbing is how far we’ve drifted. We’ve tried to attract the world by looking like it, thinking we can rescue people from worldliness while using worldly methods. We justify our compromises as “relatable.” Social drinking, carnal environments, and a diluted holiness have all found their way into our sanctuaries. But relevance without holiness produces confusion. We’ve normalized immaturity and called it maturity because someone knows both sides. Yet many of these are still babes—stuck at salvation, never maturing into discipleship, let alone Christ-likeness.

Who let these false ideas in?

Even well-intentioned efforts, if not grounded in truth, open the door to private interpretation. Jesus never spoke in vague language. He confronted error, exposed darkness, and raised a standard that was not only high but clearly understood. His invitation wasn’t to blend in—it was to follow Him. That meant dying to self, abandoning personal wisdom, living by faith, and ministering to souls, while not making friends with the world.

Today, everything is labeled “Christian” or “church,” even when the foundational truths are absent. Maybe the issue isn’t culture invading the church—but the Church lowering her standards.

I recently found myself reflecting on the early Church’s demands: the qualifications for elders, the weight of fivefold ministry, and the expectation that saints would do the work of ministry. There was an assumption that the life of Christ within the people would be so vibrant, it would require spiritual oversight by mature elders—those who carried God’s heart.

And they weren’t living in a vacuum. Their world was far more corrupt than ours: idols at every turn, public temples to demons, open witchcraft, Baal worship, the cruelty of Rome, the celebration of depravity. And yet in the midst of it all—they stood. Separated for the work. The Church didn’t just survive—it multiplied.

They had a clear vision: manifest the Kingdom of God.
They had a clear mission: preach the gospel of the Kingdom to the ends of the earth.
They had apostolic oversight: men who set doctrine and brought what was lacking into fullness.
They had eldership in cities who preserved what the apostles had established.

And still, through every age, with all the cultural pressures, false teachings, ego-driven ministries, and shifting models—the Church, the ekklesia, stands. Bruised, stretched, and reshaped at times—but never destroyed. She is still being refined. And yes, she will become the glorious Bride. She will be the one who delivers the Kingdom to the Father. She will rise in apostolic and prophetic order. She will become the ruling, reigning ones.

This is my hope.
This is my assignment.
This is my call.

To reveal the King and His Kingdom. To unveil the mystery: Christ in you, the hope of glory.

The Wineskins of Decisions: Building for God, Not Just for Us

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I wrote this blog a few weeks ago and felt I was not to not post it until later. Now I see some posting on wineskin and feel I should post.

For decades now, there’s been a constant buzz in kingdom circles about the “wineskin” and what God desires to build in this season. There’s been talk of new dynamics, fresh structures, and groundbreaking concepts that are supposed to carry the “new wine” God is pouring out. Countless conversations, teachings, and strategies have centered on this theme for over 30 years.

But here’s what I’ve noticed: most of these discussions focus more on the wineskin itself than on the new wine meant to be inside it.

When Jesus spoke of wineskins, His audience understood the natural process. New wine required a new wineskin. The grape juice would ferment, releasing gases and creating pressure. An old, dry wineskin couldn’t stretch with this process—it would burst. The wineskin wasn’t just for fermentation; it was also for transportation. It was a portable container designed for movement and flexibility.

Through the years, I’ve heard many interpretations:

  • The wineskin is the kingdom, the wine is the ecclesia.
  • The wineskin is sonship, the wine is identity.
  • The wineskin is Jesus, the wine is the Holy Spirit.
  • The wineskin is the apostolic, the wine is the ecclesia.

At different times, I’ve embraced each of these views. Lately, I’ve been sensing the wineskin is sonship and the wine is holy community. Maybe the wineskin looks different depending on the season we’re in. There’s no shortage of speculation about Luke 5 and Jesus’ teaching on wineskins and how we would apply this for today.

One widely accepted interpretation is that new revelations won’t fit into old structures, and therefore, we need new structures. While that’s true, we often overlook the primary message Jesus was sharing: the old wineskin is the Old Covenant, and the new is the New Covenant. That’s the essential framework He was establishing.

Where we tend to get tripped up is in attempting to build a new wineskin inside an old environment—or alongside it—without recognizing that “new” means exactly that. New. Nothing of the old can really be repurposed. The conversations about new wineskins that have echoed for over 40 years haven’t materialized into visible change, perhaps because we’re still clinging to fragments of the old.

The reality staring at us is who is willing to let go of what has been in order to grab what is indeed new. Who is willing to lay everything as an offering in being able to go into what we don’t understand. It really is the ultimate faith journey.

The word “new” (in Greek) means unused, unworn, recently made, fresh, unprecedented. It describes something of a completely new nature—not just new in time, but new in kind. It hints at something miraculous and unexpected that salvation ushers in: a new heaven, a new earth, a new Jerusalem, a new name, a new song, a new creation, and yes, new wine. All of these point to God’s desires and plans, not man’s.

Here’s what I also see: the wineskins people are trying to build today are heavily influenced by the times they live in and the revelation they currently carry. This has led to many people building many wineskins for many reasons, instead of us collectively building a singular wineskin focused on the kingdom Jesus spoke of. Often, the emphasis is on creating a new structure to make ministry easier and more effective—rather than building from a kingdom covenant framework that aligns with the heart of God.

Add to that the tension of personal preference. It’s easier to default to the old wineskin because it feels familiar. It reflects past preferences, past experiences—even good ones—that we’re reluctant to let go of. But what was a productive truth in the past might not be the truth needed now.

I believe much of our pursuit has been about creating a wineskin that works for us, instead of asking what would a wineskin built solely for God look like? Could we dare to build something not centered on our convenience or efficiency, but entirely for His pleasure? What if the wineskin we’re called to build is designed to connect deeply with the next age—the eternal age?
What if it was a portal, a spiritual opening, transferring heaven to earth? A place where the frequencies of heaven resonate across all dimensions? A way of redefining and realigning. Could the wineskin be a kind of superposition—a quantum space operating simultaneously in two dimensions, waiting to be measured by the manifestation of His glory? At its simplest, the wineskin is a container—but for what? For God’s new. And if we built it for Him alone, would it even entertain men? Or would it instead draw God Himself?

In 2015, God told me to build a throne for Him in our state. I didn’t know what that meant at the time. Now, the pathway is becoming clearer. The “new” rarely seems logical or realistic. It never fits the status quo. But in contemplating what a wineskin built for God might look like, I wrote down these thoughts:

  1. It would be a place that allows the expression of the next age to form.
    An understanding of the eternal would permeate everything.
  2. It would be a place where the sounds and frequencies of heaven are heard and felt.
    Not just earthly worship, but a heavenly discourse and sound.
  3. It would be a place of spiritual flow and expression.
    Flowing in sync with God, unrestricted by time or human agendas.
  4. It would be built for God’s presence more than for man’s entertainment.
    A place not of visitation but sustained dwelling.
  5. It would be a place filled with revelation of the mysteries of God.
    A continual unveiling of God, leaving man in awe.

These would naturally result in the things we currently discuss about wineskins, but those would be the byproducts or fruit of, not the focus. The how-to’s of ministry would emerge from the wineskin itself as fruit—an effect of being inside the wineskin and becoming the wine.

What strikes me is how little conversation actually focuses on building a wineskin for God.
After all, it’s His wine, His container. We can’t build anything apart from Him. This requires us to move from ownership to stewardship—a shift that might explain why many cling to the old wineskin. The new demands we give up control.

All the ministry functions we struggle to implement would naturally flow from His presence. Needs would be met simply by standing before Him. Ministry would shift to its rightful order: Melchizedek priests ministering first to the Lord, and then into the earth’s culture.

I challenge you to reconsider your wineskin. What if you built it as a place where God would love to dwell? When He is with us, many of our issues would resolve in His presence. Let’s not confuse the wineskin with the wine. If we build for Him, the wine will come.

When Words of Encouragement Aren’t Enough: A Message to Ministry Leaders

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Every ministry leader looks for signs that the work is bearing fruit—affirmations that they’re in step with God, glimpses of spiritual maturity in those they lead, and those powerful moments when someone has a life-changing encounter with the Lord. These moments encourage us deeply. But what happens when those affirmations are absent—or worse, when they come too late?

We all need encouragement. It’s not a weakness; it’s part of how God wired us. Encouragement reminds us we’re making a difference, that something we’ve invested in is producing fruit. But there’s a danger too: when leaders begin to feed on affirmation like a drug, it breeds unhealthy motives and even codependency. I’ve seen this firsthand. A leader begins needing affirmation to feel valuable, and the people begin needing the leader to validate them—rather than seeking that identity in God. Left unchecked, this dynamic poisons a church.

In ministry, there are seasons of encouragement and seasons of silence. Most experienced leaders understand this ebb and flow. In the quiet seasons, we often draw on past affirmations or lean hard into the Lord’s presence. But sometimes, the silence stretches longer than expected. No thank-you, no fruit you can see, no sign you’re making a difference. And then—maybe finally—words of encouragement come, but they fall flat. They’re late. Out of sync. Like water offered after the thirst has already broken you down.

If you’ve been in ministry for a while, you know this feeling. You start to ask big questions: Why did I say yes to this in the first place? What did I hope would happen that never did? Have I drifted from the original vision? It’s a time of soul-level evaluation—and often a time of deep weariness. You are on a path alone. No one can help you find the way. The main thing you need is time. You can clear the schedule and speed the process or continue as is and drag things out.

What you are needing is only one thing and that is hearing directly from God—not about the ministry, but about you. This is more than just reassessing strategy. It’s about resetting your own heart. Are you still stewarding your life well? Are you carrying assignments God never asked you to pick up? Are secondary things crowding out the primary call?

One of my favorite scriptures is found in 1 Samuel 30:6. David is facing devastation—his people are speaking of stoning him, families have been taken, everything seems lost. But what does he do? It says, “David encouraged himself in the Lord.” He took the posture of a priest, put on the ephod, and sought God directly. That’s what we must do. When the encouragement of others isn’t enough, we must hear His voice afresh.

These seasons aren’t pleasant, but they’re productive. Something is being built. A deeper faith. A clearer focus. A renewed strength. Often, God uses this time to replay your story—to show you how He’s been faithful, to remind you of the strength you once carried, and to reignite the fire of your original calling.

Is it easy? Not at all. Are there distractions? Plenty. But this is a sacred moment. God is inviting you back to the foundation—not to fix everything, but to remember why you started. To rediscover that singular focus of the primary call of your life. To realign with your first love of serving, and to a simpler approach.

So, leader, if you’re in a season where encouragement feels absent or ineffective, take heart. You’re not alone. And more importantly, you’re not finished. Let this be a time of holy re-centering. Let God speak to you. That’s where the real strength comes from.

But I’m a “Christian”

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I want to address something that everyone encounters at some point: the person who claims to be a Christian yet lives with a mixture of worldly influences. As I write this, I can think of numerous examples, as I’m sure many of you can. But the real question is: do they truly know HIM?

The worst deception is self-deception. When a person is self-deceived, they live in a constant cycle of justifying themselves, never truly changing. Self-deception is particularly dangerous because the individual has placed themselves into it. It is not a demonic force, nor a wrong doctrine they believe, but a doctrine they have created. Without a willingness to take a hard look at oneself, engage in deep humility, confess, and genuinely repent, it becomes almost impossible to break free.

At its core, self-deception is rooted in an open-belief system that resists true transformation. This system contains just enough truth to convince the individual that all their beliefs are valid. An open belief system is built on personal decisions about what to accept or reject regarding God and faith. Consequently, actions are self-justified and explained away rather than measured against biblical truth.

One of the most dangerous aspects of self-deception is that it creates a self-induced spiritual coma. A person can live in this state for years, believing a lie they are unwilling to acknowledge. When confronted, they debate from the perspective of their personal belief system and intellect rather than from biblical truth. As a result, they twist scripture to fit their mindset, allowing iniquity to settle into their hearts. Iniquity is both twisted thinking and lawlessness. The only way to purge it is through mercy and truth—God’s mercy that allows us to see the truth and be set free.

This deception stems from being neither hot nor cold but lukewarm. Instead of being fully committed to Jesus, these individuals engage more with Christian concepts than with Christ Himself. Their approach is intellectual rather than spiritual, leading them to compartmentalize their faith, feeling good about certain aspects while refusing to surrender areas of their flesh that remain unredeemed.

Perhaps the most sobering reality is found in Scripture: “God gave them over to a reprobate mind” (Romans 1:28, 2 Timothy 3:8). This is the tragic consequence of self-deception—becoming reprobate. A reprobate mind is one that is morally unprincipled, transgressing against God’s moral law, and ultimately rejected by Him. It is not that God actively does this to a person; rather, the person places themselves in a position where rejection of truth becomes their own undoing.

A secondary form of self-deception is even more dangerous: presenting a compromised version of Christianity to others. Those who are self-deceived often act like chameleons, changing based on their surroundings and who they are with. They don’t live a set apart faith publicly. Their faith lacks value and conviction because they are unstable in its expression being double minded. Because their foundation is not built on solid spiritual truths but rather on personal interpretation, they convey a message that faith can be mixed with worldliness. They send a message that it is acceptable to believe whatever one wants, ultimately denying absolute truth. Over time, they become adept at justifying their actions, influencing others to follow their example into self-deception. A self-deceived person can only lead others into self-deception.

Breaking Free from Self-Deception

There is hope for breaking free from this bondage, and it is found in 2 Corinthians 13:5 — 5 Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates?

 True self-examination requires humility and desperation. Often, it takes a crisis to shake someone out of their deception. If we struggle to see the truth ourselves, we may need spiritual leaders we trust to help us recognize where we truly stand. However, we must be willing to hear and accept their counsel objectively.

God has given us a ministry of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:17-18). Reconciliation is more than resolving disputes; it means restoring harmony. Many divisions in the Body of Christ stem from self-deception and disunity. We fail to recognize and value what others bring because of personal feelings of inadequacy. Instead of embracing truth and revelation, we deny it to remain in our comfort zone of deception.

A key aspect of self-deception is the false belief that relevance in ministry is determined by status, achievements, or followers. This misconception breeds jealousy and strife, all of which stem from self-deception. It causes the self-deceived to hold value in their perspectives to maintain self-esteem rather than see themselves and accept that God has something greater for them.  Every believer has a unique function and role in God’s plan, unfolding according to His timing.

To truly reconcile, we must understand what harmony looks like in our spiritual lives. Harmony means being in right standing with God, with others, and with ourselves. Deception always leads to disharmony. Throughout the Bible, deception brings division, both between individuals and between people and God. True harmony is restored when we examine ourselves, embrace the truth, and allow it to set us free. This process often requires putting others before ourselves and eliminating selfishness.

In all the counseling I do, I have found that if individuals are willing, they can break free from seld-deception and step into the ministry of reconciliation. It starts with self-examination, humility, and an openness to truth. May we all take the time to seek the Lord earnestly, allowing Him to reveal any areas where we have been self-deceived so that we can walk fully in His truth and freedom.

Transitioning into Kingdom Age – Theology

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I first wrote a blog in 2014 called the shift from church age to kingdom age which is still the highest read blog monthly since I posted it. I wanted to touch on this again and may write a series of blogs on it. We indeed are shifting and seeing this shift underway. So, I hope this gives us some insight into what is going on.

The first and primary shift is a theological shift. This has to occur before any other shifts occur. We are seeing not a shift away from theology but more so an in-depth dive into true theology. We are seeing many searching out the deep things of God and the hidden mysteries. We are not looking through denomination eyes but through kingdom perspectives. We are re-evaluating what we felt was primary truth and concluding it was support truth. The primary at this time is the kingdom of God.

One of the theological shifts is actually understanding this truth of the kingdom not just through intellectual understanding of principles and promise we operate or believe. But it is also spiritual understanding of those same principles and promise with one more added dimension, protocols. We are becoming more aware of our spiritual reality that it is more than an add-on to our humanity, but our humanity is only the container for our spirit man. This means we are seeing how the kingdom and spiritual spheres operate (protocols). We are seeing things through eternal eyes and also kingdom language more than Greek or Hebrew.

As kingdom theology has come so has spiritual principles and protocols of how to function and function effectively. We have seen training and equipping not so much in proper exegesis and language understanding but in revelation and application. The Body of Christ has moved from being consumers to investors. Some have taken ownership of vision and mission. Others support it because of kingdom purposes. These are all parts of shifting from church age to kingdom age. We are more concerned about others than ourselves. We see services as times to equip more so than meet my need. Overall, this makes the Body healthy and to have a healthy perspective. We are actually bringing life back into daily areas once reserved for what revivals would do.

A kingdom of God perspective or focus brings greater clarity to the interpretation of the scriptures and a wider scope of understanding. We are not taking scripture out of context which happens many times in a church setting by taking the pastoral part and leaving the apostolic or kingdom part as not important. We are maturing into wanting the full counsel of God and the full application of the context of scripture. This means every scripture is a gateway to a vast mystery of God that has been hide but now is being revealed. We are actually beginning to re-find what the ancient fathers knew.

This theological shift is causing us to look again at eschatology and ecclesiology. These both have shifted in the last ten years to a kingdom theology redefining both. We are not looking at escaping but looking at overcoming. We also don’t see the church as a club or religious expression but as an army that is alive and trained to govern. These two things have shifted the function of the Body of Christ into activation and participation instead of being spectators. This is the second shift which has a function.

This has also brought forth identity and purpose in many. Many are seeing how they are designed and what they are designed for. Finding their place, we see a lot of new ministries formed that are non-traditional. Creatives are finding their place of expression as well. People are becoming content with who and how God made them to be. Yes there is still striving and comparing, because of human nature and unredeemed areas, but I see a unique church arising that is creating a non- traditional expression.

Kingdom theology has also opened up the area of creativity in books and publishing. We have moved from self-help guides to eternal perspectives bringing a seriousness of purpose upon the body of Christ. Since the kingdom is so vast the need to understand it so great, there is much being produced to bring clarity in the area of published writing, blogs, podcast and a host of other avenues to reach a larger audience.

Kingdom theology also has begun to connect us as a singular Body of Christ verses a disjointed body. Kingdom principles have shifted our values and focuses. We are beginning to cross pollinate better, yet we still lack allowing the five-fold graces to cross pollinate, specifically apostles and prophets. We see there is more than a promise to stand on for what we need. We see kingdom principles of how to work those promises with faith to see outcome. This is not just affecting our personal lives but is starting to shift cities, states and even nations. 

These are all some insights into things to shift into, if you haven’t already. If you have shifted into these things then you need to steward to see fullness come. There is an ever-expanding understanding of this kingdom without end. It is now coming upon us and will continue to expand around and within us. Now is the time to either embark on a new journey of the kingdom or to enlarge what you have already experienced.

The Pursuit of Gods Glory

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In our spiritual journey, we often find ourselves yearning for something more. We look at the body of Christ, seeing good works and sincere efforts, yet sensing that something crucial is missing. I recently attended a service and at the end saw believers’ earnest seeking prayer and earnestly praying for people. Yet in my spirit it seemed something was missing. I have discovered the thing that has plagued me for along time in why I’m discontented. It is I’m seeing partial glory and not a full glory. Even as I look at my own ministry I see times when the fullness of Glory was moving and times of partial glory. That missing element is a degree of glory missing. The full, tangible manifestation of God’s presence in our midst.

Glory isn’t just a concept, or a manifestation.  It’s the essence of God’s nature. The Greek word “doxa” describes it as brilliance, splendor, and radiance. The Hebrew “kabod” speaks of honor, majesty, and weightiness. This glory isn’t meant to remain distant or theoretical. Scripture repeatedly emphasizes God’s desire for the earth to be filled with the knowledge of His glory, as the waters covering the sea.

This glory isn’t waiting to invade from the outside. It already resides within every believer. Christ in us is the hope of glory. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead dwells in us. We were created from Glory to return to glory. Glory should not be foreign to us since it is part of our makeup.

So why aren’t we seeing more of this glory manifested? The key lies in revelation and faith. Revelation is the unveiling of spiritual truths, while faith is the trust and conviction that leads to action. We need both. Revelation without faith remains theoretical. Faith without revelation can be misguided. When we combine deep revelation with activated faith, we create the conditions for glory to flow.

Consider the early church. Peter’s very shadow brought healing as he walked by. This wasn’t the shade created by the sun on an object. It was the radiance of glory emanating from within him, touching lives wherever he went. Charles Finney carried Gods presence onto a train and outbreak of glory occurred, leading to spontaneous repentance and salvations. These weren’t isolated incidents, but examples of believers who understood the glory they carried and learned to release it.

We’re entering a new season where God is restoring the manifestation of His glory to those earnestly seeking it. This isn’t just about signs and wonders, and miracles, though those will certainly be present. It’s about a creative glory that will confound human wisdom and understanding. We’re moving from partial experiences to fullness, from individual pursuits to corporate destiny.

This glory isn’t meant to be hoarded but released. It’s not about waiting for a special “cloud” to descend in a meeting. Or to see certain manifestations as a sign of God presence. These are only the fruit of Glory more than the Glory. The glory is in us, waiting to be activated and shared. When we grasp this truth, our approach to ministry and prayer shifts dramatically. Instead of merely asking God to heal someone, we can release the healing presence of God that resides within us. Where His presence is, sickness cannot remain. Where His glory dwells, the kingdom of God

dwells. But where the glory is manifest the kingdom is manifest and vice versa.

We’re called to glory and virtue – not just as distant ideals, but as a present reality to be lived out. This call comes with Gods divine enablement. God has given us everything pertaining to life and godliness through the knowledge of Him who called us. We’re raised in incorruption, glory, power, and spiritual vitality – not just in some future state, but here and now as we learn to access and live from these realities.

But maybe most important it’s glory that creates true oneness among believers. Our best human efforts at unity often fall short, but when we encounter and release God’s glory together, we find ourselves supernaturally aligned. We become one as Jesus and the Father are one. This was the prayer in John 17 and Jesus said he would give us the exact same glory so we could be one with him and the father.

How do we step into this glory-filled life? It begins with recognizing that Jesus, the living Word, is our access point to realms of glory. He was the word made flesh. He was glory incarnate. Every scripture is a potential gateway into heavenly dimensions because it carries glory within it. As we meditate on scripture, allowing the Holy Spirit to illuminate truth, we position ourselves to both receive revelation and exercise faith. This combination becomes the catalyst for releasing glory in tangible ways.

The journey into glory is the birthright and calling of every believer. We were created for glory, to be carriers and releasers of God’s tangible presence. As we pursue this high calling, we’ll find ourselves moving from hope to faith, from asking to declaring, from waiting to activating. This pursuit will challenge our comfort zones and stretch our understanding. It requires letting go of secondhand, intellectual faith and embracing firsthand encounters with the living God.

Will we answer the urgent call to glory and virtue? Will we allow revelation and faith to work together, creating the conditions for God’s glory to flow freely through us? As we do, we’ll find ourselves part of a movement that’s bringing heaven to earth in unprecedented ways, touching lives and transforming communities with the tangible presence of God.