Let me start by saying that one of my great frustrations is the number of churches that discontinued their Sunday livestream broadcast after the pandemic.
“Social media platforms don’t just allow rage-baiting — they’re built to reward it. The algorithm doesn’t care whether you’re liking content or hating it. It only cares that you’re engaging it. Rage becomes money.”
We love new things. New clothes, new cars, new shoes. In this new era of college football, schools seem to love finding new coaches, too.
I recently wrote about how my wife partners with me in ministry, and I rightly bragged about her. So, today’s post might seem contradictory — but keep reading.
I don’t brag enough about my wife. I was a single pastor the first 10 years I served as a pastor, and then God brought Pam into my world.
I’ve done it as a listener, and you probably have, too. By time Monday rolls around and the week cranks up, you’ve already forgotten the sermon from the day before.
A family of four dies unexpectedly on the highway. A routine visit to the doctor’s office reveals a terminal illness. A late Friday afternoon meeting
I pastor a small church in the country — 45 minutes or so from the closest stop light. We average about 25 people in worship.
For generations, Baptists have affirmed religious freedom as a sacred gift from God — not a privilege granted by governments.
Demeaning insecurities often plague us when trials invade our lives. We wonder if God still loves us. We worry that our pain is the direct result of our sin. We grieve what we perceive to be the absence of God in our lives.
