*I neither condone nor condemn the TikTok video clips embedded in this article.

They represent the views of their content creators.

@standardissuebucket Turns out I have more sh*t to say about Dr. James Dobson. The belt thing is honestly insane I love pulling that one out at parties. #exvengelical #deconstructing #christian #spanking #parenting ♬ Tchaikovsky “Dance of the Reed Flutes”(1257471) – kzy

Bitter Fruit:

A Reflection on the Leadership of James Dobson

By Pastor Vinnie

Dr. James C. Dobson’s death led to a public outcry on the internet that I was not prepared for. My FYP (for you page) on TikTok—and actually across most platforms—exploded with videos announcing his passing. Yet the tone of those videos was neither mournful nor celebratory. Oddly enough, what I saw was more like a collective sigh of relief.

The legacy of Dobson’s teachings—both positive and negative—will be debated by people for decades to come. The purpose of this reflection is not to vilify Dr. Dobson or Focus on the Family. Many people have been blessed by their work, and I in no way am discrediting their experience. What this reflection seeks to do is settle in my own mind (and perhaps yours too, if I am successful) what we can learn and grow from as we listen to the many people who, at the time of his passing, finally feel free to make their hurt known. This is about listening, reflecting, and seeking to grow as leaders. Dobson is simply the voice of the moment; as people cry out, we can learn from them.

The online response stopped me in my tracks, as if tens of thousands online exhaled years of hurt in a single eerie chorus. I knew Dobson was politically and spiritually controversial outside the religious right, but what I found went deeper than I expected. Hundreds of people posted testimonies of how this man had shaped their childhoods in painful ways—stories of being victimized, traumatized, and left with wounds that lingered for decades. Not directly, but through his influence on how Christians parented in the West by his massive media ministry on family. Some even said his death felt like the lifting of a curse, something that could not be broken while he lived.

Is this what a pioneer Christian leader should expect at death? So many voices echoing the results of Bitter Fruit resonating with pain and healing?

When “Biblical Parenting” Became a Burden

In Dare to Discipline, Dobson urged parents to use spanking as a tool of authority, writing that a spanking should be “of sufficient magnitude to cause the child to cry genuinely.”¹

He defended corporal punishment as;

“in harmony with nature itself,”

portraying it as an expression of “benevolent love.”²

In The Strong-Willed Child, Dobson used an analogy comparing a pet’s challenge to authority with that of a child:

 “Just as surely as a dog will occasionally challenge the authority of his leaders, so will a little child—only more so.”³

On Hannity & Colmes, he illustrated the idea of  “learning from consequences” by remarking that a child;

“pulls a dog’s tail, and he gets a little row of teeth marks… A child learns from that little bit of pain.”⁴

Many Christian parents followed these teachings with sincere hearts, believing they were honoring God by raising obedient, godly children. But critics argue that this theological framing often justified excessive, damaging punishment. Survivors recount painful memories—one four-year-old recalled enduring; “100 hits without any pants or underwear… I remember hearing my own screaming and wondering if it would ever end.”⁵

Since Dobson’s passing, parents have come forward on social media, reflecting on how Dare to Discipline shaped their parenting—even to their later regret. Many confessed they followed Dobson’s strict rules because they wanted to raise their children “right” and be faithful to Christ. They placed trust in Focus on the Family to guide them in the way of Jesus. But the fruit of that guidance must be examined. Did it produce peace, gentleness, and love—or fear, shame, and distance?

Through the lens of Bitter Fruit, we can reassess the teachings that shaped so many lives.

From “Help” to Harm: Purity Culture

Dobson was also a prominent architect of what came to be known as “purity culture,” promoting ideas like “daddy–daughter dating” and purity balls—rituals designed to shape young girls into traditional ideals of femininity and chastity.⁶ Purity balls typically involve fathers pledging to safeguard their daughters’ virginity until marriage. Proponents saw these practices as fostering affection and moral clarity. But critics argue they instilled dysfunctional expectations—teaching young women to value themselves primarily in relation to their sexual status.⁶

The impact of this Bitter Fruit continues to affect our understanding of faith and femininity.

Historian Kristin Kobes Du Mez describes Dobson as a central figure who;

“corrupted a faith and fractured a nation,” cultivating a paternalistic Christian vision that diminished women.⁷

Dobson’s influence reveals both the appeal and the complications of the Bitter Fruit left behind. The questions remain: What is the true nature of the Bitter Fruit that has emerged from his teachings?

Dobson actively promoted Love Won Out, a conversion therapy program aimed at helping individuals struggling with sexual orientation change orientation —despite overwhelming consensus within science and even pastoral care that such therapy is harmful and discredited.²

One survivor wrote of the emotional toll:

“His radio show and books… fueled the shame that drove people like me into conversion therapy,” leaving a legacy of emotional devastation.⁸

The emotional toll of this Bitter Fruit cannot be understated; many still grapple with its effects.

Jesus never shamed the broken. He embraced them. He never demanded conformity before offering love. He led with compassion, not coercion.

Reflections on the Bitter Fruit of Dobson’s Legacy Can Guide Future Leaders in Their Journey

For every family that found direction in Dobson’s teachings, others found pain:

One parent confessed: “Parents were taught to fear their own children.”

Another parent—once faithful to Dobson’s discipline teachings—admitted:

“I thought I was saving my children from sin… Instead, I drove them away. My daughter won’t speak to me now, and I live with that regret every day.”

These voices are not isolated. They are the fruit. And they deserve to be heard—not dismissed, not debated, but received with humility and grace.

For many, the stories of Bitter Fruit are intertwined with their experiences of faith and family.

Core Leadership Lessons: Five Action Steps

1. Intentions Are Not the Final Measure – Dobson meant to protect families. But as Jesus warns, our legacy is defined not by intentions but by the effects—what fruit takes root.

2. Authority Without Mercy Wounds – Dobson’s focus on control often eclipsed empathy. True leadership must blend truth with grace—not rigid command with cold correction.

3. Inflexible Culture Leaves No Room to Heal – An inflexible view of purity culture and corporal punishment disregarded the emotional complexity of growing souls.

4. Cultivate Safe Spaces – Leaders must cultivate spaces that welcome healing and growth. Each leader must consider the Bitter Fruit they leave behind as part of their legacy.

5. Listening to the Wounded Is Sacred – Too often, we defend systems instead of listening to the harmed. Jesus leaned toward the broken—our ministries should do no less.

A Sobering Reflection

In navigating leadership, we must confront the Bitter Fruit that results from our actions.

Dr. James Dobson’s legacy is complex—woven with threads of conviction, cultural influence, and spiritual ambition. He sought to strengthen families, uphold biblical values, and offer clarity in a world he believed was morally adrift. His intentions were sincere, and many who followed his teachings did so out of a deep desire to honor God.

Nothing I say in this article is meant to put him down personally or to doubt his heart. It is to reflect on what it means to be a leader and to weigh what legacy we leave behind. I don’t want to work my whole life for the cause of God only to find, at the end, that I harmed more than I helped—or that, in helping some, others became fodder for the fire.

This is about more than James Dobson’s legacy. It is about reflecting on the tragedy of thinking we are standing up for good, only to reach the end and see how many were destroyed by our need to stand up for “right.” For what is more right than not hurting the little ones entrusted to the church and to parents? (Matthew 18:6)

Jesus reminds us—not Dobson, who now rests—but us, all of us, in Matthew 7:16: “By their fruit you will recognize them.” Not by their parenting theory. Not by their viewpoints. Not even by their intentions. The fruit is the evidence. And fruit, in the kingdom of God, is meant to nourish—not to wound. The fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control—is sweetened by the love of God. It does not grow in the soil of shame, nor does it flourish under the weight of fear or punishment. When discipline becomes domination, when purity becomes pressure, when authority eclipses empathy—the fruit turns bitter, no matter how noble the seed.

This legacy of Bitter Fruit is a reminder to choose paths that nourish rather than wound.

Dobson’s teachings shaped generations. For some, they offered structure and clarity. For others, they sowed confusion, pain, and alienation. The testimonies of those harmed—children disciplined into silence, daughters burdened by purity, believers shamed into hiding—are not footnotes. They are fruit. And they must be reckoned with.

Understanding the Bitter Fruit of Dobson’s teachings can foster healing in many communities. This is not a call to vilify. It is a call to reflect. To ask, as leaders and followers of Christ: What kind of fruit are we bearing? Are our ministries marked by mercy or by control? Do our teachings lead to healing or to harm? Are we building communities where grace abounds—or where fear reigns?   Jesus did not say, “By their doctrine you will know them.” He said, “By their fruit.” And the fruit of Christ is always flavored with love—never with shame.

If Dobson’s legacy teaches us anything, it is that good intentions are not enough. Leadership must be measured by its outcomes, not its aspirations. And the most faithful leaders are those who listen to the wounded, repent when needed, and replant their gardens with gentler hands.   May we be those leaders. May our fruit be sweet. May it nourish the broken, welcome the outcast, and reflect the love of a God who never disciplines without compassion, never corrects without grace, and never calls us to purity without first calling us to belonging.

As we reflect on the Bitter Fruit, may we strive to cultivate gardens of love and compassion.

@robottaylor Dr James Dobson has passed. Allow me to say a word on him during this time as he begins to decay #focusonthefamily #dobson #evangelical #radio ♬ original sound – Robot Taylor

@uncleadam719 Replying to @wholly.chloe #purityculture #Dobson #exchristian #exvangelical ♬ original sound – Uncle Adam

@tyler_bradford_wright And friends I will continue to press on as a strong-willed child because the weird bad theology didn’t work on me in the end #exvangelical #jamesdobson #strongwilledchild #fyp #viral ♬ original sound – Tyler Bradford Wright

@kelseykmcg Book recommendation for anyone tryjng to understand the spectrum and variety of experiences in Dobson households. #inthewaytheyshouldgo #dobson #christianparenting #focusonthefamily @Marissa Franks Burt ♬ original sound – Kelsey Kramer McGinnis

*I neither condone nor condemn the TikTok video clips embedded in this article.

They represent the views of their content creators.

Notes

1. Michelle Boorstein, “James Dobson, Influential Voice of the Religious Right, Dies at 89,” Washington Post, August 21, 2025.

2. “James Dobson,” Wikipedia, last modified August 2025, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Dobson.

3. James C. Dobson, The Strong-Willed Child (Wheaton: Tyndale House, 1978), quoted in “James Dobson,” Wikipedia.

4. “Raising Children the Right Way,” Religion Dispatches, accessed August 23, 2025, https://religiondispatches.org/raising-children-the-irighti-way/.

5. [Author Unknown], “How Dobson’s Teachings Shaped My Childhood,” Medium, accessed August 2025.

6. “Purity Ball,” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purity_ball; and “Purity Culture,” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purity_culture.

7. Kristin Kobes Du Mez, Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation (New York: Liveright Publishing, 2020).

8. Timothy Schraeder Rodriguez, “Dr. James Dobson’s Death Ends a Life, but Not a Legacy of Lies and Harm,” Religion News Service, August 22, 2025

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The Shema

Hearing God’s Voice in a Noisy World

By Pastor Vinnie 

Click here to listen to this article.

The Tale of Three Problems

Sarah gripped her coffee mug, staring out the kitchen window as the morning light broke through the trees. She felt like she was breaking too. Between juggling her demanding job as an ER nurse and her family’s endless needs, her prayers felt like unanswered emails sent to heaven. Even her closest friends had started to say, “You’re strong, Sarah—you’ll figure it out.” But she didn’t feel strong. She felt stretched thin, with no room for the voice of God to speak peace into her chaos.

Miles was sitting in his room, staring at his bank statement. His dream of becoming a documentary filmmaker had been put on hold—again. He’d spent months hustling freelance gigs, but the money never seemed to be enough to move forward. Worse, he was beginning to question if he even had the talent to succeed. “Why would God give me a dream if He wasn’t going to help me make it happen?” he thought, the bitterness rising.

And then there was Daniel. After his wife’s passing last year, he felt unmoored. The house they had shared for decades was now too quiet, too still. Once a leader in the community, Daniel had withdrawn, avoiding church and old friends. Grief had turned to numbness, and the faith that had sustained him for so long now felt like a distant memory. He wondered if it was possible to hear God’s voice again—or if he had forgotten how to listen.

Three lives. Three different struggles. One timeless answer: the Shema.

The Call of the Shema

The Shema, drawn from Deuteronomy 6:4-9, begins with a simple yet profound invitation: “Hear, O Israel.” But this hearing isn’t passive—it’s active and relational. It’s not just about doing something for God but being present with Him. To shema is to listen deeply, to let God’s voice guide your life, and to love Him with your whole being.

In a world drowning in noise, how do we hear God? How do we make His words more than just commands—how do we let them shape our hearts, draw us closer to Him, and help us live in His love? The Shema offers us a way forward: to listen deeply, to live fully, and to rest in God’s presence.

What Is the Shema?

At its core, the Shema is both a declaration of faith and an invitation to a relationship. It is found in Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and reads:

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-9, NIV)

The Hebrew word Shema (שָׁמַע) carries layers of meaning. It is often translated as “listen” or “hear,” but it encompasses much more than passively perceiving sound. Shema means to listen attentively, to understand deeply, and to respond faithfully. Remarkably, it is also the only word for “obey” in Hebrew. This highlights a profound truth: in the Hebrew worldview, to truly hear God is to obey Him.

For the ancient Israelites, there was no separation between hearing and doing. If you were certain it was God’s voice speaking—if you recognized it as the voice of the Creator—obedience wasn’t just a duty; it was the natural response. Why wouldn’t you trust and obey the One who formed you, the One who knows what is best? To Shema is to recognize God’s authority and to live out His words, not as a burdensome obligation, but as an overflow of relationship and trust.

This prayer, central to Jewish daily life, calls us to center every aspect of our being—heart, soul, and strength—on loving and living for God. It’s not simply about following commands; it’s about being in a relationship where hearing and obeying flow naturally from knowing God’s voice and trusting His love.

Hearing the Shema: A Call Across Time

The Shema is more than a prayer; it is a profound declaration of loyalty and faith that has shaped Jewish life for millennia. Given to the Israelites as they prepared to enter the Promised Land, the Shema emerged as a rallying cry for devotion in a world of competing allegiances. The words “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one” affirmed God’s absolute uniqueness and sovereignty in a polytheistic world, declaring that no other gods could rival the Lord’s authority.

This was not merely a theological statement but also a covenantal commitment. At a time when Israel was surrounded by nations with their own gods, idols, and religious practices, the Shema served as a constant reminder to the Israelites of their distinct identity as God’s chosen people. It was a call to exclusive loyalty, urging them to reject the cultural and religious influences of their neighbors and remain faithful to the covenant God had established with them.

From its inception, the Shema became central to Jewish daily life. It was—and still is—recited twice daily, in the morning (Shacharit) and evening (Ma’ariv), as a core part of Jewish prayer. This rhythm anchored the people of Israel in God’s truth, reinforcing their commitment to Him at the start and end of each day.

The recitation of the Shema was also a family affair. Parents were instructed to teach it to their children, ensuring that each generation would grow up grounded in the faith and values of their ancestors. By binding the words of the Shema to their hands and foreheads and inscribing them on their doorframes and gates, the Israelites surrounded themselves with visible reminders of God’s presence and commandments. The mezuzah, a small case containing the Shema affixed to doorframes in Jewish homes, is still a symbol of this devotion today, serving as a tangible marker of faith and a source of protection.

Throughout history, the Shema has been a source of strength and security for the Jewish people, particularly during times of conflict, persecution, and exile.

Throughout history, the Shema has been a source of strength and security for the Jewish people, particularly during times of conflict, persecution, and exile. When faced with external threats or the pressures of assimilation, the Shema reminded them of who they were and to whom they belonged. In the face of oppression, the Shema became a defiant proclamation of faith in the one true God.

During the Babylonian exile, when the Israelites were removed from their homeland and surrounded by foreign gods, the Shema provided a sense of identity and continuity. It reassured them that, despite their displacement, God was still their Lord, and His covenant with them remained unbroken.

In the Maccabean Revolt (167–160 BCE), the Shema played a crucial role in uniting Jewish resistance against the Hellenistic ruler Antiochus IV Epiphanes, who sought to impose Greek religion and culture on the Jewish people. The Shema became a battle cry for those fighting to preserve their faith, serving as both a rallying point and a declaration of defiance against idolatry.

Even in the darkest periods of Jewish history, such as the Holocaust, the Shema was often the final prayer on the lips of Jewish martyrs. It served as a profound statement of faith and trust in God, even in the face of unimaginable suffering and death. To recite the Shema in such moments was to reaffirm the unshakable belief that God’s sovereignty and love transcended the circumstances of this world.

A Tool of Resilience

The Shema has been a tool for resilience and loyalty across generations because it ties identity to action. By commanding the Israelites to love God with all their heart, soul, and strength, the Shema called for a love that is total and all-encompassing. It required the people to align their inner lives (heart), their spiritual devotion (soul), and their outward actions (strength) with God’s will.

The Hebrew word Shema (שָׁמַע) means more than just “listen”—it implies a deep, active engagement. It encompasses hearing, understanding, and responding. In Hebrew, there is no separate word for “obey”; to hear God is inherently to obey Him. This reflects the relational nature of the Shema: it is not simply about following rules but about cultivating a trust so profound that obedience flows naturally. In the Hebrew worldview, to hear is to act because the voice of God is authoritative and trustworthy.

This understanding of shema has profound theological implications. Early Church Fathers like Origen saw the Shema as a reflection of God’s unity and an invitation to understand His oneness—a foundational truth that shapes Christian theology. Augustine extended this idea, emphasizing that loving God with all one’s heart, soul, and strength is a transformative act, reshaping our being in response to God’s love.

Jewish thinkers like Maimonides underscored the Shema’s call for exclusive loyalty. In a time of scattered allegiances and external pressures, the Shema affirmed that the Lord alone is God and worthy of absolute devotion. Its recitation was a declaration of faith and a personal commitment to live in harmony with God’s will. R.W.L. Moberly highlights how the Shema serves as both an ethical and theological cornerstone, calling believers to align their everyday lives with the divine reality.

Tim Mackie of The Bible Project notes how the Shema bridges the gap between listening and trusting. To pray the Shema is to integrate faith into every aspect of life. It is a reminder that God’s words are not just commands but invitations into relationship. This is why the Shema commands the Israelites to teach it to their children, to bind it on their foreheads and hands, and to write it on the doorframes of their homes—it is a call to embed God’s presence into the rhythms of daily life.

If you hear God and are certain it is His voice, because you have come to know it, why would you not obey? God only wants what is best for His people.

Jesus and the Shema

When Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, He quoted the Shema: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:29-30). But many Christians today miss the significance of what Jesus was saying. He wasn’t introducing a new idea—He was pointing back to this ancient and powerful prayer, a way of life central to Jewish faith and practice.

For Jesus, the Shema wasn’t just a theological statement; it was deeply personal. As a faithful Jew, Jesus prayed the Shema every day—morning and evening—as part of the rhythm of Jewish life. When He declared it the most important commandment, He was reminding His followers that everything flows from loving God with all that we are. It’s not just about religious rituals or moral obligations; it’s about a wholehearted devotion that shapes how we think, live, and love.

But Jesus didn’t stop there. He expanded the Shema, adding, “The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:31). In doing so, Jesus showed that loving God cannot be separated from loving others. The Shema is not only a call to relationship with God but also a call to reflect His love in our relationships with the people around us.

This connection is profound. The Shema invites us to hear God’s voice, and Jesus, the Good Shepherd, echoes this in John 10: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). Just as the Shema calls us to hear and respond, Jesus reminds us that His followers will recognize His voice and respond with trust and obedience.

To pray the Shema is to align our hearts with the God who speaks and calls us by name. To follow Jesus is to live out this truth, hearing His voice and responding with love for God and others. It’s an invitation not just to obedience but to intimacy, to trust that His voice will guide us as we learn to walk in His ways.

How can we, as Christians, forget the one thing Jesus said is most important in all the law? Shema! Hear His voice. [Listen to Vinnie’s Podcast Episode on Shema and Jesus]

Practical Applications of the Shema

For us today, the Shema is still a powerful reminder that God calls us to hear His voice amidst the noise. It invites us to not only listen but to trust and obey, allowing God’s love to shape every part of our being. It is both a theological manifesto and a practical guide for living a life wholly devoted to God. The Shema calls us to take what we hear from God and integrate it into every part of our lives.

For Sarah, it started with her heart. One evening, as her children finally slept, she found a moment of quiet. She opened her Bible to Deuteronomy 6, and the words felt like they were speaking directly to her: “Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road.” She realized that God wasn’t asking her to carry the weight of everything alone but to trust Him. That trust allowed her to see the sacred in the ordinary—bedtime stories with her kids, comforting patients at work, and even moments of stillness in her day. Slowly, Sarah found that by inviting God into her everyday chaos, she could feel His love shaping her heart, calming her fears, and giving her strength.

For Miles, loving God with all his soul meant facing the frustration and bitterness he had been holding onto. He’d spent so much time asking God for success that he hadn’t stopped to listen for God’s voice. One evening, he started journaling his doubts and turned to the Psalms, where he read how David poured out his own frustrations to God. The Shema’s call to love God with all his soul became a call to stop striving and rest in God’s presence. As he let go of his expectations and began to trust in God’s timing, Miles started to see his dreams as gifts to be stewarded, not just achievements to chase. His heart began to align with God’s purposes, and in surrendering his plans, he found deeper peace.

For Daniel, the Shema’s invitation to love God with all his strength came as a quiet whisper in his grief. One afternoon, he wandered into the empty sanctuary of his old church, uncertain why he was there. Sitting in the silence, the words of the Shema returned to him: “Love the Lord your God with all your strength.” At first, the idea of loving God with strength seemed impossible—what strength did he have left? But as he prayed, Daniel began to understand that his strength wasn’t measured by his accomplishments but by his willingness to trust God with his brokenness. He reached out to an old friend, joined a grief support group, and slowly began to find healing.

Through these small steps, Daniel discovered that loving God with his strength wasn’t about being invincible but about being vulnerable enough to let God work through him.

Conclusion

The Shema isn’t just an ancient prayer; it’s a call to live in relationship with God, to hear His voice, and to respond with love.

For Sarah, it meant rediscovering the peace of knowing God was with her, even in the chaos. She began to see the small, ordinary moments—like reading bedtime stories to her kids or comforting a patient—as sacred acts of love born from God’s presence in her life.

For Miles, it meant surrendering his expectations and finding joy in simply being with God. By aligning his dreams with God’s purposes, he found that hearing God wasn’t about having all the answers—it was about trusting that God’s voice would lead him, one step at a time.

For Daniel, it meant opening his heart to healing and learning to listen again. He found that loving God with all his strength wasn’t about being invincible—it was about being vulnerable enough to let God’s love work through him, even in his grief.

The Shema reminds us that God is always speaking. The question is: are we listening?

As you reflect on the words, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one,” consider where God is inviting you to love Him with your whole heart, soul, and strength. Maybe it’s in the quiet moments of surrender, the daily acts of trust, or the brave steps of faith to simply rest in His presence.

Will you listen? Will you respond?

Bibliography (Chicago Style)

1. The Bible (New International Version)
   The Holy Bible, New International Version. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011.
2. Mackie, Tim.
   Mackie, Tim. The Bible Project. Accessed at com.
3. Origen. On First Principles. Translated by G.W. Butterworth. New York: Harper & Row, 1966.
4. Augustine. Confessions. Translated by Henry Chadwick. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991.
5. Maimonides, Moses. The Guide for the Perplexed. Translated by M. Friedländer. New York: Dover Publications, 2000.
6. Moberly, R.W.L.
   Moberly, R.W.L. Old Testament Theology: Reading the Hebrew Bible as Christian Scripture. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013.
7. The Shema and Jewish Tradition.
   Hertz, J.H. The Pentateuch and Haftorahs: Hebrew Text, English Translation and Commentary. London: Soncino Press, 1960.
8. Holocaust Testimonies.
   “Jewish Faith and the Holocaust: The Role of the Shema.” Yad Vashem, accessed online.
9. Historical Context of the Shema.
   Rendsburg, Gary A. Israelite Religion and Biblical Theology: Collected Essays. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011.
10. The Bible Project: Tim Mackie’s Insights on the Shema.
    Bible Project. Shema: Listen. Accessed at bibleproject.com.

In-Text Citations

• For references to Tim Mackie:
  “Tim Mackie of The Bible Project emphasizes that shema implies a holistic approach to listening…” (Bible Project, 2021).
• For historical context:
  “The Shema was given to the Israelites as they prepared to enter the Promised Land…” (Rendsburg, 2011).
• For theological insights from Church Fathers:
  “Early Church Fathers like Origen saw the Shema as a reflection of God’s unity…” (On First Principles, Origen).
• For Jewish tradition:
  “The mezuzah, a small case containing the Shema affixed to doorframes in Jewish homes…” (Hertz, 1960).
• For Holocaust usage:
  “Even in the darkest periods of Jewish history, such as the Holocaust, the Shema was often the final prayer on the lips of Jewish martyrs…” (Yad Vashem).

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Dealing With The Mountain of Burnout
By Pastor Vinnie MacIsaac

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How much can you give before you are completely spent? We all recharge our phones at least once daily (some of us more). Even as we take our phones off the charger, we know full well they will run out again—and likely at the moment we need them most, during the heaviest usage when the demands on the battery are highest. Does that mean the phone is defective or that the charger is not strong enough? No. It means that all powerful devices need to be plugged in more than once if they are going to keep powering our lives.

Have you ever felt like you’ve poured out everything you have, only to find yourself running on empty? It’s a strange paradox, isn’t it? You’ve given your best, done the work you felt God called you to do, and even seen results. Yet somehow, after the victory, you find yourself weary, drained, and wondering if you can keep going.

You’re not alone. Burnout isn’t just a modern phenomenon; it’s as old as the Scriptures. Today, nearly 40% of pastors report experiencing burnout. For church members and volunteers, the numbers are equally troubling. Studies show that as many as 20% of volunteers discontinue their service within a year, with burnout being a major contributing factor. Even more sobering, many churches are struggling to retain volunteers or recruit new ones, with over half of nonprofit organizations reporting losses in their volunteer base.

Burnout is real, and it’s affecting those who are most committed to serving God. But it’s not the end of the story. Elijah, one of the greatest prophets in the Bible, experienced burnout too. And his story in 1 Kings 19 shows us how God meets us in our exhaustion, renews our purpose, and calls us into a deeper, more committed walk with Him.

Elijah’s Journey to Victory and Collapse

Elijah’s life is one of the most remarkable in Scripture. He was a prophet called to minister to a divided and idolatrous Israel during the reign of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. His mission was clear: to call the people back to worship the one true God, Yahweh.

From the very start, Elijah’s ministry was marked by boldness. In 1 Kings 17, he appeared out of nowhere to declare a drought in Israel, a direct challenge to the false god Baal, who was believed to control the weather. During this drought, God provided for Elijah—sending ravens to feed him, multiplying flour and oil for a widow, and even raising the widow’s son from the dead. These stories are core to so many of our sermons, devotions, and even children’s lessons. Everyone knows Elijah is all about victory! After all, God Himself takes him directly to heaven in heaven’s own limousine—a chariot of fire.

And how many powerful, inspiring sermons have we all heard and given about the defining moment of Elijah’s life: the showdown on Mount Carmel? With fiery courage, Elijah called the people of Israel to choose:

“If Yahweh is God, worship Him; if Baal is god, follow him.”

In one of the most dramatic scenes in Scripture, Elijah prayed, and fire fell from heaven, consuming the altar, the sacrifice, and even the water poured over it. The people fell on their faces, declaring:

“The Lord—He is God!”

It was the pinnacle of Elijah’s ministry. But mountaintop moments are often followed by deep valleys.

As a pastor and as a leader, I can tell you I am most tired after I preach a powerful sermon or lead a board successfully through a great challenge. And that is also the time I am most vulnerable because I am most spent because I gave all I had to God to use me. People won’t stop to remember that leaders and volunteers need to recharge, but God is tracking your battery’s limits at all times.

Burnout After the Mountaintop

Not long after this great victory, Queen Jezebel sent a message to Elijah: she was going to kill him. And he fled into the wilderness like a weak, scared upstart. This bold prophet, who had just called down fire from heaven, now sat under a broom tree, begging God to take his life.

“I have had enough, Lord,” he prayed. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” (1 Kings 19:4)

I don’t think Elijah was just physically exhausted. This was something deeper. He felt isolated, discouraged, and utterly spent. Despite the miraculous victory on Mount Carmel, Elijah felt as though his efforts had been in vain.

Sound familiar? Many of us have been there. Whether you’re a pastor, a church leader, or a volunteer, the pressures of ministry can leave you drained. Studies show that burnout often comes not after failure, but after significant achievements, when we’ve poured ourselves out completely and failed to replenish.

For church volunteers, burnout is particularly common. Twenty percent of volunteers stop serving within a year, and over half of nonprofits report struggling to retain or recruit volunteers. Even when the work feels meaningful, the relentless demands can take their toll.

Elijah’s story reminds us that burnout doesn’t discriminate—it can affect even the strongest among us. But it also shows us how God meets us in that place.

Making It to the Mountain

God’s response to Elijah’s burnout is one of the most beautiful parts of this story. He doesn’t rebuke Elijah for running or criticize him for feeling weak. Instead, He begins with care.

An angel wakes Elijah—not to give him instructions, but to give him food:

“Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” (1 Kings 19:7)

Elijah eats, sleeps, and eats again. God knows that Elijah needs physical restoration before he can hear anything else.

After this, Elijah travels forty days and nights to Mount Horeb, the mountain of God. And please, don’t miss this: God called him to Mount Horeb! That is not a small detail, no matter how easy it is to skip over in our rush to the bigger picture. It is the big picture, and Elijah knew what God meant when He said, “Go to Mount Horeb.”

The location is the call. The location is the message. The location is the restoration. The location is God telling Elijah just how big his role was and what was at stake.

Listen, when I noticed the importance of being called to Mount Horeb, it changed so much about the way I think about burnout so let’s not skip this key lesson. Mount Horeb is the place of Moses. Elijah knew that, and he could not escape the fact that this was a call to finish the ministry in the power of God—or die, never entering the Promised Land with his people.

Mount Horeb, also known as Mount Sinai, is a location of immense significance in biblical history, but especially to Elijah and Moses. Moses was given the Ten Commandments there (Exodus 19-20). Moses was forced to deal with the rebellion of his people worshiping the golden calf there (Exodus 32-34). God showed Moses His glory there (Exodus 33:18-23). But most importantly, God called Moses into ministry at the burning bush there (Exodus 3:1-12).

When the Israelites complained of thirst in the wilderness, God instructed Moses to strike a rock at Horeb, and water flowed out to sustain the people (Exodus 17:1-7). However, it is also believed to be the place where Moses, later in frustration, wrongly struck the rock again and forfeited his ministry and his entrance into the Promised Land (Numbers 20:10-13).

Mount Horeb: A Place of Identity and Risk

Do you get it? Do you see it yet? Do you see what Elijah saw when summoned there? Mount Horeb is the place where your ministry becomes your identity and what I mean but that is your real purpose and passion. It is also the place where you can lose it all because you think your identity is rooted in what you can or cannot keep doing for God.

What is your Mount Horeb? It’s the thing that makes you great, happy, and fulfilled, but it’s also the thing that can take even great leaders like Moses and Elijah down into burnout and bad decisions.

What is your Mount Horeb?  Burnout doesn’t happen at Mount Carmel; it happens when we stop hearing God at Mount Horeb!

Whisper On Me, Sweet Jesus, Whisper On Me

There, in a cave at Mount Horeb, Elijah poured out his heart:

“I have been very zealous for the Lord, but the Israelites have rejected Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and put Your prophets to death. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” (1 Kings 19:10)

Elijah’s words are raw and vulnerable. He isn’t holding back his frustration, fear, or despair. And God listens.

Then comes the moment that defines not just Elijah’s life, but the way we understand God’s presence. God tells Elijah to stand on the mountain, for He is about to pass by.

What happens next is extraordinary. A powerful wind tears through the mountains, but God isn’t in the wind. Then an earthquake shakes the ground, but God isn’t in the earthquake. After that, a fire blazes, but God isn’t in the fire either.

Finally, there’s a gentle whisper.

The word for wind in this story, רוּחַ (ruach), is the same word used for both “wind” and “spirit” in the Hebrew Bible. Are there times when we are so tired that the demands of life and ministry knock the wind (ruach) out of us—the very Spirit of God out of us?

This was at this same mountain that a great earthquake shook Moses and his people, symbolizing judgment (Exodus 19:18). When God descended on Mount Sinai to give the law, the mountain trembled violently, underscoring His holiness and the gravity of the covenant being established with Israel. Earthquakes often accompany God’s direct presence, emphasizing His overwhelming power and majesty. They signal a divine encounter or the seriousness of God’s intervention.

After the earthquake came fire, which in the Torah often symbolized not only purifying power but also God’s guidance for His people. A pillar of fire led Moses and the Israelites through the wilderness (Exodus 13:21). The entire covenant with Abraham was sealed with God showing up in fire, illuminating the way to atonement (Genesis 15:17).

Burned Out but Not Burned Up

Sometimes, we can get so “spent” that we stop breathing the רוּחַ (ruach), the breath of God. And if you are not breathing God’s Spirit, how will you be recharged? How will you feel the earthquake under your feet, reminding you of His presence in this place? How will you be led by His guiding pillar of fire?

You may feel burned out, but the fire of God—the pillar of God guiding your life—never goes out.

What happens when you can’t feel God’s Spirit, God’s fire, or God’s movement? Listen for the whisper of Jesus!

It’s in that whisper that Elijah finds God. Not in the dramatic, but in the stillness. Not in the chaos, but in the quiet.

This moment redefines Elijah’s understanding of God’s presence. On Mount Carmel, God had shown up in fire, but here on Mount Horeb, He reveals Himself in a whisper. It’s a reminder that God’s power isn’t always about spectacle—it’s about intimacy. Let Jesus whisper in your ear about the reason you’re called and why the story isn’t over.

Renewal and Recommitment

The gentle whisper wasn’t just comfort for Elijah; it was a call forward. God reminded Elijah that he wasn’t alone:

“There are still seven thousand in Israel who have not bowed to Baal.” (1 Kings 19:18)

God gave Elijah a new mission: to anoint new leaders and to prepare Elisha, the prophet who would carry on his work.

You may feel alone in your ministry—I get it; I’ve been there. But feeling alone and being alone are not the same thing. You may say, “I have no one to help me; look around!” I say to you, listen for the whisper, for God has not abandoned you. There are still seven thousand.

You may feel like you’re on your own, but the whisper of God tells us otherwise. There are still people who have not bowed to the pressures of this world, people who are waiting to walk alongside you in ministry. Elijah’s renewal came with a new mission—mentoring Elisha. Burnout happens when we pour out without pouring into others. Mentoring isn’t just about helping others; it’s about growing your own capacity as a leader. If you’re a Moses, don’t forget your Joshua and Caleb. If you’re an Elijah, let the whisper of God remind you that an Elisha is waiting to carry forward the work God has entrusted to you.

This moment became the anchor of Elijah’s life. His burnout wasn’t the end—it was a turning point. From here, Elijah’s ministry shifted. He became a mentor, a man focused not just on the present but on the legacy of God’s work through future generations.

Meeting Jesus at the Mountain

Elijah’s story teaches us that burnout isn’t failure, and it isn’t the end. It’s a signal that we need to pause and let God meet us in our weariness.

It all comes full circle at yet another mountain—Mount Tabor (as described in Matthew 17:1-8, Mark 9:2-8, and Luke 9:28-36).

Jesus Himself experienced a moment that could be likened to burnout. Why do I call it burnout? Burnout is defined by what happens when you can’t go forward. Even Jesus, in His humanity, faced moments of struggle. And who did He call on? Moses and Elijah—because only those who have been there can minister to us when we get there.

Jesus led Peter, James, and John—three of His closest disciples—up a “high mountain” to pray. These three often accompanied Jesus during significant moments of His ministry, such as in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus knew the cross was before Him, and He also knew that Peter, James, and John would soon fail Him in the garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-46, Mark 14:32-42, Luke 22:39-46, and briefly in John 18:1).

So, on this mountain, Jesus called on those who had been to their own Mount Horebs, who had heard the whisper in the cave. When your closest friends fail you in your moment of burnout, God won’t. He will send to you those who have walked the path before you, so that you can lead those who are walking it behind you.

Dealing with burnout is not just about rest; it’s about real leadership. It’s about knowing where you have been, what it meant, and how to discern where God is sending you next so that you don’t succumb to the anxieties of the unknown. There will be days when you’ll feel like Moses, striking the rock in frustration, and days when you’ll be like Elijah, hearing the whisper, but both days are days that Jesus recharges your batteries with his whisper.  Jesus knows how to whisper to you in your season. He has nothing but love and empathy for you because He, too, needed Moses and Elijah to whisper encouragement back into His life, like he had into their lives.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet He did not sin.” (Hebrews 4:15)

The Whisper in the Cave

If you’re feeling burned out—whether you’re a pastor, a volunteer, or a weary believer—take heart. God meets you where you are, just as He met Elijah. He doesn’t rush you or rebuke you for being tired. Instead, He comes to you with tenderness, offering rest, nourishment, and His presence.But most importantly, He offers Elisha. You are not alone. Stop believing it was ever all about you. Start building your Elisha, Peter, John,  and James team. Teach them the secrets whispered to you in the cave at Mount Horeb. If you resist giving up, the seven thousand who have not bowed will come to join the fight with you.

Don’t make burnout the last chapter in your book, because the secret whispered in the cave is simply this:

“I got you. I always had you. Your greatest success will never be Mount Carmel. It will always be those you bless with a double portion of the Holy Spirit (2 Kings 2:9-10) and the legacy you pass to them because of what you learned in this cave.”

He calls you forward. The gentle whisper isn’t just a moment of comfort; it’s a call to recommit—to trust that God isn’t finished with you yet. Like Elijah, your story isn’t over.

The God who met Elijah in the whisper is waiting to meet you too.

Will you step out of the cave?

Elisha, James, John, and even Peter, need you, so show them the way to meet Jesus at Mount Horeb but that will require you to notice that burnout is not about you, it’s about learning it is never about you, and that you’re not alone. And you only feel so tired because you were not called to be the cool, tough, gritty, Lone Ranger we think leaders are. This has never been God’s plan. God doesn’t need heroes because he is the Hero. He needs leaders to build the future Elishas, James, Johns, and even Peters. It’s about recharging with those who have been there in order to charge up those who one day will go there.

It’s about the whisper, “I got you. I always had you. Your greatest success will never be Mount Carmel. It will always be those you bless with a double portion of the Holy Spirit. Staying in the cave will mean you die alone. Go forward! Elisha needs you, and you need your Elisha. Defeating burnout is a team sport.”

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The One

By Pastor Vinnie MacIsaac

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Imagine a story from Luke 17, told from the perspective of Jesus himself. Step into this sacred moment with your heart and mind open, engaging your holy, sanctified imagination. Let us walk together on this dusty road and witness the power of compassion, healing, and gratitude as we see through Jesus’ own eyes.

I am on my way to Jerusalem, walking along the dusty border between Samaria and Galilee. The land here is rugged, filled with rocks and dry shrubs clinging to cracked earth under the relentless sun. Villages are scattered across this barren landscape, each one like an oasis of life in a harsh, unforgiving world. As I enter one of these villages—a small, quiet place on the edge of the wilderness—I hear voices calling out.

At first, they are low and hesitant, as if they are unsure they even have the right to ask. But then, the cries grow louder, and the desperation in them strikes me deeply. “Are you the One? Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”

I turn toward the sound and see them—a group of ten men standing far off, beyond the village boundary. They are lepers. They stand apart, unable to come closer, bound by the weight of a disease that has stripped them of everything. The sight of them brings a deep ache to my heart. These men—these beloved souls, known to me from the beginning—have waited lifetimes to meet me here on this road. My Father and I have seen every person who would come to me, heavy-laden, burdened, and broken. They all matter to my Father. He loves each one so completely. These ten are a special joy to me today. No matter their pasts, I am here with the joy of healing every single one of them. Father, I know how you delight to see them healed; I do this for you!

Leprosy steals more than just the body. It eats away at the skin and nerves, twisting hands and feet. But it goes deeper, forcing a person to live apart, away from family, friends, and worship. With every scar, a leper loses more than health; they lose hope, connection, and life itself. Each of these men, created and loved by my Father, has been living in the shadows, isolated, watching life move on without them.

I look at them, and a surge of compassion fills me—not only for the suffering they’ve endured but for the beauty of each soul I know lies beneath the pain. I have known these men before the world was formed. I have watched over them from the beginning, waiting for this moment to meet them, to restore them fully. This is a moment my Father and I have prepared for since eternity. Father, I know you are just as excited as I am! And here they are, all ten of them, calling out to me with the last flicker of hope in their hearts, wondering if I could possibly be the One to change everything.

I take a step closer, meeting their eyes, and say, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” It’s a simple command, but they understand its meaning. Only a priest can declare them clean, allowing them to return to their homes and their lives. And though their bodies still bear the marks of disease as I speak, they believe—enough to turn and start walking, trusting that healing is already beginning.

I watch them as they walk away, these men who have been forced to the edges, taking slow, tentative steps down the road. And then, as they move, I see it. Their skin begins to change—scars melting away, sores vanishing, twisted hands straightening, strength returning to limbs. I see them pause, looking down at their hands, touching their faces in wonder. Then, in one glorious, unstoppable moment, they erupt with laughter. Real, joyful, full-bellied laughter—the kind that starts deep in the soul and rises up like a flood. I hear shouts of amazement, their voices calling to each other, words tumbling over each other in a rush of joy.

The sight fills me with a joy so fierce it’s almost overwhelming. I want to laugh with them, to leap and shout, my heart lifting with excitement as I watch my Father’s love pour out into their lives. My Father, Abba in Heaven, smiles down on this moment, His joy filling me, spilling over as I watch these souls—these children of His—discover the fullness of life once more.

As their voices ring out, I think of my Father’s unending goodness. Abba’s love knows no limits, no boundaries. His joy is in restoring, in mending broken lives, in giving life back where there was once only death. In these healings, I feel His love reaching out, not just to touch their bodies but to call their hearts into wholeness. I long for each of them to know this depth, to stay in this joy, to feel the fullness of the life my Father and I offer them.

Then, something else catches my attention. Among the ten, only one of them stops. He looks down at himself, his hands trembling, his eyes wide with wonder. And then, as if pulled by a force he can’t resist, he turns and starts running back to me. This man—a Samaritan, an outsider even among outcasts—runs, tears streaming down his face, laughter spilling from his lips, praising God with every breath.

It means even more that this man is a Samaritan. The Samaritans are a people set apart, often despised by their neighbors. Long ago, their ancestors were part of Israel, but generations of mixed marriages with foreigners and disputes over worship have left them isolated. While my people worship at the Temple in Jerusalem, the Samaritans worship on Mount Gerizim. To many in Israel, they are no longer seen as true children of Abraham, as if they have no part in the covenant promises. They are viewed as defiled, unworthy, their worship corrupt. And here is this Samaritan, this one deemed unworthy by so many, returning to give thanks, offering his whole heart to the God who has made him whole.

I watch him approach, and as he reaches me, he falls at my feet, overcome. His laughter mixes with gratitude, his words tumbling out in praise, his hands reaching toward me in a gesture of complete awe. I kneel beside him, my own heart so full it feels close to bursting. Here, in this man, is a gratitude that reaches beyond his healed body. He has found the heart of my Father, found the joy that comes from knowing you are known, loved, and cherished.

“Were not all ten cleansed?” I ask him softly, still catching my breath from the joy filling the air around us. “Where are the other nine?” The question is not for my sake but for his. I want him to see the beauty of his gratitude, to know that what he has received is a gift beyond anything he could touch. This Samaritan, this man of faith, has come back not only to be restored in body but to be restored in spirit.

I place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his newly healed skin, and say with a voice filled with love, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” His eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I know he will carry this joy, this wholeness, with him for the rest of his days. He will go back to his family, his village, his people, not only as a healed man but as one who has encountered the heart of God.

As he walks away, his face radiant with joy, I feel my Father’s peace settle within me. This is why I have come—not only to heal bodies but to restore souls, to bring people into the fullness of my Father’s love. I want this for every soul, not just relief from pain but a life transformed by Abba’s unending love.

I watch him disappear over the hill, still praising, still laughing, and I think back to that question they asked as I entered this village: Are you the One?

They all could have come back but only one did.

Yes, I am the One, the Healer, the Restorer, the Giver of Life. But today, it is this man, this Samaritan, who becomes “the one.” He is the one who returns, who truly sees the gift, who opens his heart fully to my Father. He is the one who understands that healing goes beyond the body; it fills the soul.

And now, I look at you, beloved. Yes, you reading these words. You, too, are invited into this healing, this fullness of life. You are invited to come closer, to be “the one”—the one who doesn’t just walk away with a touch, but who comes all the way into the love my Father longs to give you.

Will you be the one who returns to find more than healing, more than relief? Will you be the one who discovers the heart of God, who knows that my Father’s love goes deeper than you can imagine? He’s calling you, not only to be restored in what’s broken but to be made whole, to live in the fullness of His love.

I invite you to be like this Samaritan—to come back with a heart full of gratitude, to know and cherish the One who loves you. Let His love fill every part of you. And then, share that love. Spread the joy you have found in me, like a light that can’t be contained. My Father’s goodness is for all, and the world needs to see it through you.

Be the one who carries this good news, who lives in the freedom of my Father’s love and shares it with others. Be the one who shows the world what it means to be truly healed, whole, and beloved.

So come, be the one who goes deeper, who walks with me, who shares my Father’s heart. There is more waiting for you, more than you can imagine. Will you take that step? Will you be the one?

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Trapped in the Moment Before the Miracle

When Waiting Feels Unfair

By Pastor Vinnie MacIsaac

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Have you ever felt the ache of waiting—wondering why God doesn’t step in right when you need Him most? Come with me into the story in the Gospel of Luke (8:40-53), where two lives intersect in a crowd, each one desperate for a miracle. Look around. Can you sense the tension, feel the weight in the air as these two souls press into the crowd, hoping for the same thing—a touch from Jesus that will bring healing?

First, there’s Jairus—a man whose life has likely never known such desperation. He’s a respected synagogue leader, a man used to being in control, with people looking up to him. But now, none of that matters. His twelve-year-old daughter, the light of his life, is at death’s door. Every second is precious as he finally spots Jesus. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jairus pushes through the crowd, urgency overriding his dignity. He falls at Jesus’ feet, pleading for his child’s life with a voice thick with desperation.

Then, look over to the edge of the crowd, and you’ll see her—a woman who’s been suffering in silence for twelve long years, hidden from society because of her condition. That’s as long as Jairus’s daughter has been alive. For twelve years, she’s watched life pass her by, felt her health deteriorate, and endured isolation, loss, and shame. But today, she’s determined. She won’t stop until she reaches Jesus, even if it’s only to touch His garment. She’s tried everything else. If anyone understands the desperation of Jairus, it’s this woman who’s lived a life defined by waiting.

Imagine for a moment the tension that hangs between these two lives. Who should be healed first? The girl, whose life has barely begun, or the woman, who has suffered the same number of years the girl has been alive? The crowd surges around Jesus, but He’s focused on the people before Him. Jairus leads Him through the throng, urging Him to hurry, while this woman follows in silence, hoping just for a brief touch, an instant of healing.

And then, it happens. As Jairus walks beside Jesus, trying to pull Him through the crowd, he suddenly feels the frustration of delay as Jesus stops. The woman, unnoticed by most, has reached out and touched His garment. That single touch is her boldest act of faith, her deepest cry for mercy, and she can feel it—the suffering ends in an instant. Jesus has stopped, turned, and asked, “Who touched me?”

Can you imagine Jairus in this moment? His heart must be pounding with impatience and confusion. He’s trapped in this maddening pause, watching someone else receive the miracle he so urgently needs for his daughter. This woman is healed; she’s finally freed from twelve years of pain. But Jairus is gripped by the thought, Why her and not my child? Why is God helping her first?

The woman, realizing she can’t stay hidden, comes forward. She falls at Jesus’ feet and tells Him everything. The twelve years of shame, the hopeless visits to physicians, the long nights of pain, and the isolation that almost broke her spirit. Jesus listens, and then His face softens. He calls her “Daughter,” a name that must warm her heart and bring tears to her eyes. “Your faith has healed you; go in peace.” She’s no longer “unclean,” no longer a forgotten outcast. Her faith has been honored, and she has been made whole.

But for Jairus, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. He’s waiting, caught in the agony of helplessness as he watches a stranger receive what he needs so desperately. And then the unthinkable happens. A messenger arrives, his face grim, and delivers the news Jairus dreads most: “Your daughter is dead.” Those words must pierce him like a knife. His hopes, his faith—all of it seems to collapse in an instant. He followed Jesus, he pleaded with all he had, yet it feels like the heavens have been silent, like God has chosen someone else over his own daughter. Why would God allow this? he must wonder, Isn’t my daughter’s life as important as this woman’s healing?

Before Jairus can even process the heartbreak, Jesus turns to him. He doesn’t ignore his pain or dismiss his fear. He looks right into Jairus’s eyes, His gaze filled with an understanding far beyond what anyone else could offer. “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus tells him, “just believe, and she will be healed.” These words—simple, yet profoundly challenging—call Jairus to a faith that holds on, even in the face of despair. He’s still reeling, still grieving, but he follows, trapped in the moment before the miracle.

As they reach his home, the mourners are already gathered, their wails filling the air, a heart-wrenching symphony of sorrow. Jairus’s heart must be breaking, the sound a stark reminder that he’s already too late. But Jesus sends the mourners away, allowing only Jairus, his wife, and three disciples into the room. It’s quiet now, still. And then, with a gentleness that defies the weight of the situation, Jesus takes the girl’s hand and speaks, “My child, get up.”

And there, in that moment, life returns. The girl rises, breath filling her lungs, color returning to her cheeks. Imagine Jairus’s face, the astonishment, the fierce, almost painful joy as he realizes his daughter is alive. The delay that felt so unfair, the wait that seemed endless, has led to a miracle greater than he could have dreamed.

Trapped in the Moment Before the Miracle

How many of us know this feeling—trapped in the excruciating pause, watching others receive the blessings we’re longing for, feeling like our prayers are unheard? We see others’ needs being met, and bitterness starts to rise. Jairus must have felt it—the pang of perceived unfairness as he watched the woman healed, all while he faced the news of his daughter’s death.

But here’s the truth Jesus shows us through Jairus and this woman: there is a purpose in the delay. The woman endured twelve years of waiting for her healing, and Jairus had to wait while someone else received their miracle. Both were trapped in those moments of waiting, where faith feels stretched beyond its limits. But Jesus had something greater in store for each of them. For the woman, the wait ended with immediate healing; for Jairus, the delay led to a resurrection beyond what he had asked for.

So, if you’re waiting, feeling trapped in the moment before the miracle, hold on. Jesus is near, even in the silence, even in the pause. He hasn’t forgotten you. Like Jairus and the woman, you’ll find that in His perfect time—whether the answer is immediate or after a longer journey—His presence and His power will be the answer you’ve been seeking. Hold fast, for the miracle may be closer than you think.

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Leadership When There Are No Solutions

Adaptive Change

By Pastor Vinnie MacIsaac

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Have you ever faced a problem that felt too big to solve? What do we do when we hit a wall and no amount of effort or expertise seems to fix it? How do we lead others through challenges we can’t fully grasp ourselves? When there’s no guidebook or blueprint for success–where do we turn?

Imagine you’re leading a church community, and for years, young adults have been drifting away. You’ve tried everything–new programs, social events, even hiring a youth pastor–but attendance keeps dropping. You’ve reached out to other churches, done the research, and tried all the usual strategies, but nothing addresses the core issue. Deep down, you wonder if this isn’t just about attendance. Maybe it’s about something deeper–a disconnect between the church’s message and what young people are seeking today.

So, what do you do when there’s no easy fix? This is where adaptive change and adaptive leadership come into play. Adaptive change isn’t about applying quick fixes or “technical solutions.” Instead, it invites us to slow down and ask new, sometimes uncomfortable questions: How can the church truly connect with young adults today? What are they seeking in a faith community? Adaptive change means rethinking church culture, opening space for genuine, honest conversations, and reimagining approaches. It requires new perspectives, humility, and, most of all, a willingness to grow–even when it’s hard.

By leaning into adaptive change, churches can experiment with fresh approaches, listen deeply, and build a community that resonates with people in ways traditional methods might miss.

You know it’s time for adaptive change when your technical fixes don’t work. In other words, if hiring an expert, reading a book, or following a YouTube video could solve the problem, you would do it. But when no known solutions exist, even among experts, it’s time to engage in the process of adaptive leadership. Adaptive change is created by building adaptive capacity and enhancing relationships.

What Is Adaptive Change, and Why Does It Matter?

Adaptive change is a strategic approach for leaders and organizations facing complex problems that can’t be solved with existing tools or knowledge. It’s about walking a path of discovery together, asking tough questions, and allowing space for growth–even when it challenges us.

The concept of adaptive change was developed by Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky at Harvard University. In their book Leadership Without Easy Answers, they introduced adaptive leadership as a way to tackle big problems by helping people wrestle with deeper issues. Heifetz famously said, “Leadership is about disappointing your own people at a rate they can absorb.” It’s about asking challenging questions and allowing room for honest growth.

Skilled leaders build adaptive capacity by demonstrating competency in technical fixes. When an expert knows what to do, these leaders study or engage that expert and implement necessary actions. Building competency within an organization prepares leaders for times when they must navigate uncharted territory. Sometimes, technical fixes and expert opinions are insufficient; leaders must invent new paths, not just new on-ramps. Adaptive capacity enables leaders to address complex challenges through adaptive problem-solving.

Why Adaptive Change Is Essential for Church Leadership Today

Adaptive change has become essential for churches navigating a fast-changing world. Churches are often caught between tradition and the shifting needs of the people they serve. Today’s churches face complex challenges–how to engage younger generations, embrace diversity, and respond to social issues. These challenges can’t be solved with “one-size-fits-all” solutions.

Key leaders in church leadership–like Carey Nieuwhof, Reggie McNeal, Thom Rainer, and Tod Bolsinger–emphasize that adaptive change is essential for the future of the church.

• Tod Bolsinger, author of Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory, compares the church’s journey to the expedition of Lewis and Clark: “You keep looking around, and all you see are mountains. It doesn’t mean you’re lost; it just means you’re somewhere you’ve never been before.” Bolsinger encourages church leaders to adapt and keep moving forward even when they don’t have all the answers.

• Reggie McNeal, a church consultant, calls on churches to shift from an “institutional” mindset to a “mission-focused” one. In Missional Renaissance, he writes, “The most important shifts a church can make are not institutional but missional.” McNeal reminds us that the church’s mission isn’t about maintaining the status quo; it’s about serving and meeting people where they are.

• Carey Nieuwhof, a respected voice in church leadership, believes adaptive change is crucial if churches want to stay relevant, especially for younger generations. He encourages open conversations about burnout, creativity, and renewal, seeing adaptive change as the key to church growth.

• Thom Rainer, CEO of LifeWay Christian Resources, has dedicated much of his work to church health. In his blog Growing Healthy Churches Together, he calls for adaptive leadership to address real-life struggles like declining attendance and inclusivity, urging leaders to create safe, welcoming spaces that meet people’s needs.

The Limits of Technical Change in Today’s Churches

Sometimes, churches turn to technical fixes to solve deeper issues, only to find they don’t quite get where they need to go. Here are two examples that show the limits of technical solutions in church settings:

1. Engagement Through Technology: Many churches have adopted livestreams, social media, and apps to reach more people, especially younger members. While these tools can increase accessibility, they don’t address the core reasons some young people feel disconnected from church life. Adaptive change would mean asking how we can make church life more meaningful and address the real challenges young people face today.

2. Diversity and Inclusion: Some churches have added multilingual services or cultural groups to reflect their communities’ diversity. But if we want true inclusivity, we have to go deeper. Adaptive change calls us to look at our own biases, reshape traditions, and create a place where everyone feels they belong.

How Adaptive Change Can Strengthen Church Communities

Adaptive change encourages churches to look within and ask, How can we be true to our mission, even if it means trying something new? It creates room for resilience, collaboration, and community–a place where people feel they’re seen and valued.

Churches that embrace adaptive change are more likely to develop fresh approaches, reach new people, and stay relevant. When we look at our challenges with honesty and are open to growth, we make room for God to work in ways we may not have expected.

Simple Steps to Start Adaptive Change in Church Leadership

If adaptive change sounds daunting, know that it starts with small steps–just opening a door or starting a conversation. Here are some practical ways to begin:

1. Listen with Openness: Start by truly listening to your congregation, especially those who might feel unheard. Create spaces where people feel free to share their thoughts and needs. This will help you understand what’s really needed.

2. Invite Diverse Perspectives: Make it a priority to include diverse voices. Encourage people from different backgrounds to share their insights. This will open your eyes to new possibilities and bring in fresh ideas.

3. Ask Big Questions: Instead of asking how to “fix” an issue, start with questions like, “What are we missing?” or “How can we serve in a way that truly reflects God’s love?” Adaptive change begins with questions that get to the heart of the matter.

4. Experiment, and Embrace the Journey: Adaptive change means trying new things, even if it’s messy. Each experiment brings us closer to meaningful change.

5. Stay Purpose-Driven: Shift the focus from maintaining programs to embracing the church’s mission. Ask, “How does this help us live out our mission?” When each step is rooted in purpose, the community feels it.

6. Build Relationships that Support Growth: Foster connections within the congregation. Encourage small groups, mentorships, and friendships that empower people to support each other. This creates a resilient, adaptable community.

Embracing the Path of Adaptive Change

Adaptive change is more than a strategy; it’s a journey of faith that church leaders and members take together. It’s the willingness to ask hard questions, to grow in unexpected ways, and to become a church that reflects God’s love and grace in a world that desperately needs it.

There will always be times as you lead when there no known fixes for your problems and that is exactly when you are called to lead with adaptive compacity. Are you ready to start this journey of adaptive change in church leadership? Begin with one step–whether it’s inviting someone into a conversation, taking a risk on a new idea, or opening yourself to listen with fresh ears. As you explore new possibilities, you’ll find others ready to join you in building a church that listens, adapts, and grows in love and purpose. Let’s move forward in faith, trusting that God can work through our questions and lead us into transformation together.

Appendix: Insightful Reading to Learn the Basics of Adaptive Leadership

1. “Adaptive Church: Collaboration and Community in Mission” by Dwight J. Zscheile

This book emphasizes the need for collaboration and innovation within church communities, focusing on how congregations can adapt to cultural changes and engage meaningfully with their surroundings.

2. “Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory” by Tod Bolsinger

Bolsinger applies adaptive leadership concepts to ministry, guiding leaders in navigating unfamiliar challenges in the church, and equipping them to lead in a rapidly changing cultural landscape.

3. “Leading Change” by John P. Kotter

A classic in change management, Kotter’s book outlines an eight-step process for leading organizational change, focusing on the human factors necessary for sustainable transformation.

4. “Leadership on the Line: Staying Alive Through the Dangers of Leading” by Ronald A. Heifetz and Marty Linsky

This foundational book on adaptive leadership highlights the personal and professional risks of leading change and offers strategies for navigating the challenges of difficult leadership roles.

5. “Switch: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard” by Chip Heath and Dan Heath

Combining insights from psychology and organizational change, this book helps leaders understand how to create lasting change by addressing both the rational and emotional elements of change resistance.

6. “Tempered Resilience: How Leaders Are Formed in the Crucible of Change” by Tod Bolsinger

This book explores the development of resilience in leaders facing adaptive challenges, particularly in church contexts, and emphasizes the character formation needed to lead through intense change.

7. “The Other Half of Church: Christian Community, Brain Science, and Overcoming Spiritual Stagnation” by Jim Wilder and Michel Hendricks

Integrating brain science with spiritual growth, this book provides insights into how churches can foster real transformation by understanding the brain’s role in relationships and discipleship.

8. “The Practice of Adaptive Leadership: Tools and Tactics for Changing Your Organization and the World” by Ronald A. Heifetz, Alexander Grashow, and Marty Linsky

Offering practical tools and tactics, this book is a hands-on guide to fostering adaptive change, helping leaders develop the skills necessary to lead effectively in complex environments.

This list serves as an excellent starting point for anyone interested in understanding the fundamentals of adaptive leadership and its application in both organizational and religious contexts.

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Change Cycles: Can Churches and Leaders Grow Together?

By Vinnie MacIsaac | November 2024

LISTEN: Click here for Pastor Vinnie’s narration if you’d rather listen to this article. 

Imagine sitting in a worship service, surrounded by familiar faces, singing your favorite songs, and soaking in the comforting vibe of cherished traditions. Suddenly, your pastor steps onto the stage, quoting statistics and talking about the decline in church attendance[i]. He confronts you with the reality that the Christian church in America is in serious decline. Then, he announces a new direction for the church—a shift that challenges everything familiar. For many church members, change stirs deep-seated anxiety and resistance, as it disrupts long-held practices and routines. For pastors and church leaders, however, change feels urgent—an essential step to keep the church vibrant and faithful in a rapidly evolving world.

Both perspectives are real, valid, and filled with passion. Change is challenging, yet essential. It’s not about seeking comfort but pursuing growth, health, and, above all, loyalty to Jesus. The Church Change Cycle framework presents five distinct phases (0-4) that churches typically experience when adapting to change. Each phase highlights the characteristics, challenges, and leadership focus needed to move the church community from resistance to active participation and co-ownership of the church’s mission.

Phase 0: Stagnation – No Transformative Cycles

In this initial phase, the church shows signs of decline or stagnation, potentially even facing closure due to a lack of movement and adaptation. Todd Bolsinger captures this in Canoeing the Mountains, saying, “Nothing in God’s creation was designed to stay the same. Change is inevitable; growth is optional.” When a church resists change, it risks losing its mission, purpose, and vibrancy. Just as in nature, what doesn’t move forward will eventually wither and die.

In stagnant churches, phrases like “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” or “We’ve never done it that way before” become walls that block fresh ideas and prevent innovation. This resistance keeps the church stuck in the past, hindering growth.

Leadership Focus: Leaders must first recommit to the purpose and mission of the church, realigning with Jesus and seeking His guidance. Leadership may need to evolve or step aside, as clinging to comfort can inhibit the church’s potential. Jim Collins emphasizes this in Good to Great, stating, “Good is the enemy of great.” Leaders who settle for “good enough” may stifle the church’s journey toward greatness.

Reflection: If your church feels stagnant, ask yourself, “Are we maintaining comfort at the expense of what’s truly life-giving? Where is God calling us to grow, even if it challenges our current comfort?”

Phase 1: Resistance to Change

In this phase, members resist new ideas, challenge leaders, and cling to the familiar, often out of fear of losing control. While some members recognize the need for growth, they may prioritize maintaining control over embracing the church’s future.

For example, introducing a new fellowship area or coffee space may be viewed as a threat to tradition rather than a welcoming gesture for newcomers. Misunderstandings about the intent behind such changes often lead to heightened resistance.

Leadership Focus: Building trust is crucial. Leaders need to demonstrate competency and reliability while encouraging open dialogue. Listening to concerns doesn’t prevent change but shows respect for members’ voices. In A Failure of Nerve, Edwin Friedman advises, “A leader must remain calm, connected, and confident when others are anxious and reactive.” Leaders must also align changes with the church’s mission, helping members see a shared purpose.

Reflection: For members resisting change, consider, “What fears are driving this resistance?” For leaders, ask, “How can I honor these fears while guiding the church toward necessary growth?”

Phase 2: Tentative Buy-In

In this phase, members begin to release their resistance, albeit tentatively. They offer limited trust to leadership, allowing small adjustments but still holding back from full engagement. This cautious acceptance signals budding trust but lacks enthusiastic investment.

This phase can be frustrating for leaders, as members agree with the need for change but remain passively supportive, adopting a “wait-and-see” attitude. Disconnection from the larger vision often hinders deeper involvement.

Leadership Focus: Leaders must articulate a clear and compelling vision. Carey Nieuwhof writes in Overcoming the 7 Greatest Challenges, “People want to follow a leader who has a clear vision and knows where they’re going.” Leaders should highlight the big picture, helping members understand that the mission is greater than individual preferences. Todd Bolsinger, in Canoeing the Mountains, echoes this: “Leadership is taking people where they need to go, not where they want to go.”

Consistent communication is essential to maintain momentum. Leaders can build gradual engagement by offering manageable ways for members to participate, fostering ownership and direction. Developing people at this stage involves investing in future leaders and modeling vision-driven direction.

Reflection: Leaders, consider how you can make the vision clearer and more inspiring. Members, ask yourself, “Are you willing to let go of personal preferences for a purpose that serves the greater good?”

Phase 3: Invested Understanding

At this stage, members actively support the need for change. They experience a shift in perspective, recognizing how these adjustments benefit the church as a whole. With this invested understanding, members are eager to contribute to positive transformation, yet they rely on leadership to organize and implement changes.

Enthusiasm for immediate results may sometimes outpace leadership’s ability to respond, leading to frustration if expectations for rapid change aren’t met. Brian Moss captures this sentiment in Dream Church, noting, “People don’t mind change as much as they mind loss.” Miscommunication or unmet expectations can spark frustration, often directed at leadership.

Leadership Focus: Leaders should communicate transparently, keeping members informed about plans, timelines, and challenges to manage expectations and maintain trust. Balancing enthusiasm with patience is key. Ronald Heifetz, in Leadership on the Line, reminds us, “The hard work of leadership involves giving people hope while also being realistic.” Empowering co-creation by involving members in solution-building reinforces collaboration while integrating feedback shows that members’ voices are essential in shaping the church’s future.

Reflection: Leaders, can you invite members to be co-creators in this journey? Members, ask yourself, “What talents or insights can I contribute to our shared transformation?”

Phase 4: Full Buy-In and Independent Initiative

In the final phase, members fully embrace change and actively initiate new projects and solutions. They operate as co-creators, working alongside leadership to advance the church’s mission. Their commitment extends beyond mere acceptance—they independently innovate and implement changes that benefit the whole community.

One challenge here is that new members may struggle to find their place within this cohesive environment. While well-intentioned, their integration may inadvertently disrupt established workflows as they adapt.

Leadership Focus: Leaders should focus on promoting an inclusive culture, creating pathways for new members to feel welcomed and connected to the church’s mission. Carey Nieuwhof, in his podcast, emphasizes, “People crave belonging before they believe.” Recognizing members’ contributions fosters a culture of appreciation while encouraging ongoing innovation empowers the community to collaborate effectively. As Edwin Friedman notes in A Failure of Nerve, “Leadership is essentially about influence and helping others go where they wouldn’t otherwise go.”

Reflection: Leaders, how can you foster a culture where everyone feels empowered? Members, consider how you can support and encourage others in their roles to create an environment where everyone thrives.

The Path Forward for Churches Embracing Change

Navigating change within the church is a journey filled with challenges, but each phase in the Church Change Cycle provides a roadmap. This framework reminds us that while change can be difficult, it is often essential for growth, health, and loyalty to Jesus’ mission for His church. Ideally, your church is not at Phase 0, but the reality is that many churches in North America may find themselves there. As you progress through Phases 0 to 4, you will face radical challenges and changes, but the reward is growth and thriving together.

However, after reaching Phase 4, a critical decision looms. As Todd Bolsinger says, “Nothing in God’s creation was designed to stay the same. Change is inevitable; growth is optional.” You cannot remain at Phase 4 indefinitely. You will either return to Phase 1, beginning the cycle anew, or risk stagnating in Phase 0. The choice is clear: embrace reinvention and growth, or risk decline. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life—choose life, choose growth, and keep moving forward.

With Jesus, church members and leaders can navigate the cycles of change together, building a thriving, faith-filled, ever-evolving community.

Endnotes:

[i] According to a 2019 Pew study, the percentage of Americans identifying as Christians dropped from 77% in 2009 to 65% in 2019. During the same period, the percentage of those identifying as religiously unaffiliated (often referred to as “nones”) rose from 17% to 26%. Further research by the Barna Group in 2020 found that church attendance (both in-person and online) has also declined, with one in three practicing Christians (about 32%) having stopped attending church altogether during the COVID-19 pandemic. This suggests a significant shift in church engagement that may have long-term implications for the church’s future in North America. These statistics underscore the urgency for churches to adapt, as they face changing cultural attitudes, increasing secularization, and new challenges in engaging communities in meaningful ways.

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The Novak Effect: Skating from Darkness to Light

By Pastor Vinnie 

LISTEN: Click the player for Pastor Vinnie’s narration if you’d rather listen to this article.

The Novak Effect 

Born in Baltimore Novak was a Skateboard star early in life.

When I think of Brandon Novak, I think of myself. I reflect on how there is a bright, brilliant, happy, and healthy side of me, but also a vulnerable, dark, and prone to negativity side that lingers, trying to undermine my own success. It strikes me that no matter our potential as individuals, there are parts of ourselves that can impede the great things we can achieve in our lives. We often engage in self-sabotage, even if we are reluctant to admit it. I have come to refer to this phenomenon as the “Novak Effect.” Brandon Novak’s life was a whirlwind of early success, fame, and unimaginable struggle. Born in Baltimore, Maryland, he began skating at the young age of seven. By the time he was 14, he was traveling the country with some of the greatest skaters of the time, including Tony Hawk and Bucky Lasek. He even became the first skateboarder ever to be sponsored by Gatorade, an accomplishment that most could only dream of achieving at such a young age. However, as his career skyrocketed, another path opened up alongside it. In his early 20s, Brandon Novak, once a hopeful young skater, also battled with addiction, becoming enslaved by heroin, cocaine, pain pills, and other substances.

Despite his talent and all of the opportunities that fame brought him, the thrill of the skateboarding world became overshadowed by his need to get high. His addiction was an unbreakable cycle, driving him to abandon his career and ultimately be removed from his team. With his budding future on the line, friends scrambled to try to intervene, but Brandon chose to continue using. It seemed he was on a one-way path to self-destruction. When I think of Brandon and his life, it makes me wonder about my own life and what keeps us from accepting help, even when those we love try to intervene. Have you resisted support in an area of life that feels like a downward spiral? I know I have, and yet I know I can’t help myself in every situation. Too often, like Novak, I want to be the lone ranger and prove myself. But to whom?

Fame cannot undo the aches of the heart.

By his mid-20s, he had also gained notoriety for his antics with the “Jackass” crew and his appearances in Viva La Bam. Audiences loved his wild personality, but behind the scenes, Brandon was losing control. Every attempt to change—whether it was moving cities, shifting careers, or trying new relationships—seemed to fail. The thrill-seeking lifestyle that had fueled his early fame had turned into a nightmare. Despite more than a dozen stints in rehab, countless arrests, and nearly losing his life several times, the addiction remained.

Brandon described his addiction as an inescapable weight that he carried everywhere. Even though he knew the path was killing him, he couldn’t let it go. At one point, he was homeless, wandering the streets of Baltimore, reduced to doing anything he could to get his next high. He stole from friends and family, burned nearly every bridge, and even sold his body to feed his addiction.

There has to be a lesson we can learn from Novak’s struggle. What burdens or destructive habits feel like “inescapable weights” in your life or mine? It doesn’t have to be drug addiction. It could be dealing with stress, feeling helpless or depressed, not getting what we need in our career, school, or relationships. Have you reached a point where you feel powerless to break free from these burdens? We don’t have to hit rock bottom unless we insist on it!

The Crossroads of Change

Change means letting go of old hurts.

I love the writings of Paul in the Scriptures. In Romans 6:1-8, Paul speaks of an old self that must be “crucified,” a life left behind to embrace a new identity in Christ. Like the Apostle Paul, Brandon found himself standing at this crossroads – a point of clarity where he saw two paths before him. One was the life he had been living, defined by addiction, isolation, and despair. The other was a chance, however slim, at a fresh start. After yet another arrest, Brandon realized he was utterly alone, too isolated, and too tired to keep being his own lone ranger. He needed Jesus. He described it as a moment of surrender, a time when he finally let go and allowed others to help him.

 “Well then, should we keep on sinning so that God can show us more and more of his wonderful grace? Of course not! Since we have died to sin, how can we continue to live in it?  Or have you forgotten that when we were joined with Christ Jesus in baptism, we joined him in his death?” Romans 6:1-3 NLT

If you were standing at a similar crossroads, what would you be willing to surrender for the chance at a new beginning? Are there aspects of your life that you are still withholding from others’ help, or even from Jesus? I have found that sometimes, you just have to die to yourself, and instead be washed in the joy, of joining Jesus.

With no plan, no expectations, and no demands, Brandon entered a treatment program, genuinely seeking recovery. He walked in with only one thing: desperation for something different. This surrender marked the beginning of freedom, purpose, and faith. Through the support of those around him and a willingness to rely on a higher power, Brandon experienced a profound spiritual awakening.

Victory and the New Life

In Romans 6:4 Paul speaks of being “buried with Christ” and “raised…to walk in newness of life.” Brandon’s journey through recovery and faith embodied this verse. As he grew in sobriety, the power of addiction loosened its grip, and his old life of addiction and chaos began to feel like a distant shadow.

In 2018, Brandon chose to be baptized, marking the death of his old self and the beginning of a new life in Christ. Reflecting on his baptism, he said, “Today is the day I’ve been waiting for, for quite some time. I’ve envisioned it, told stories about it, and talked about what I thought it would feel like. Today is that day.” For Brandon, the experience wasn’t just symbolic—it was transformative. He described his baptism as a “magical experience” and explained, “It’s such a magical experience, feeling the love of my higher power… I was the guy that was deemed unhelpable, unfixable. To stand here today, with over four years of continuous sobriety… it’s the least that I can do.”

“For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives.”  Romans 6:4 NLT

I wonder, how would it feel for us right now, to retrace the steps of Brandon, to let go of the old life, and embrace an identity grounded in hope and purpose? Do I really believe that God can transform the “unfixable” parts of me? And if I do believe that, why am I hiding the broken parts of my life from those who would support and help me, and more importantly, from Jesus?

What I know that  is In that moment, Brandon got this struggle we all fight right and he embraced what Paul writes in Romans 6:6-7: “We know that our old self was crucified with him… so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin.” Baptism, he shared, was an “outward expression of an inward transformation.” It marked the official burial of his past and the beginning of a life of purpose, compassion, and faith. The old Brandon—the man who once saw no way out of addiction—was gone, and in his place stood a new man, one who would go on to inspire countless others by sharing his story of redemption.

“We know that our old sinful selves were crucified with Christ so that sin might lose its power in our lives. We are no longer slaves to sin.  For when we died with Christ we were set free from the power of sin.” Romans 6:6-7 NLT

What parts of your ‘old self’ do you want to bury? What parts do you not really want to stay buried? The thing I have learned is that this process, which Brandon Novak took, it is a process I have to take over and over again. Not in rebaptism, of course, but in surrendering every day to the things that I think will make me happy. However, these things are really killing me just as much as the heroin that Brandon has to keep surrendering to Jesus for the rest of his life.

Living in Newness of Life

Today, Brandon is over eight years sober and serves as a motivational speaker, a recovery advocate, and an inspiration to many. He travels the country, sharing his story of redemption and encouraging others to embrace a new path. What was once a life bound by addiction has become a powerful message of hope for others still struggling. His transformation echoes the promise of Romans 6: that through surrender to God, anyone can be set free. The old Brandon—the addict who chased highs and destroyed relationships—no longer exists. In his place is a man reborn, committed to helping others.
We might not be Brandon Novak, we might not be throwing away a career of fame and riches, we might not be addicted to heroin. But all the same, we all hold onto things we have promised to give to God. If your baggage is getting heavy, give it up. Throw it away. Surrender it. What is holding you back from experiencing the “newness of life” God offers? Is it really worth holding onto and losing peace, missing out on joy, and missing the chance to live for eternity?

When he, Jesus died, he died once to break the power of sin. But now that he lives, he lives for the glory of God. So you also should consider yourselves to be dead to the power of sin and alive to God through Christ Jesus. Romans 6:10-11 NLT

Let go of your baggage. Give it to Jesus.

This is the Novak Effect. We can all go dark and give our baggage to Jesus. The Novak Effect refers to the impact of our human nature on our spirituality. As a noun, “effect” means the result or consequence of someone’s action. For example, the effect of addiction was overwhelming in his life Brandon Novak was unable to overcome his addictions because he could not overcome the result or consequence of his human nature, on his addictions. His addictions were simply his baggage accumulated by the Novak Effect. I am here to tell you that you do not need to carry your baggage any longer; Jesus is the great porter, the true doorman, to freedom. When you surrender your baggage to him, you are made free. The secret to the Novak Effect is when you surrender to Jesus, he empowers your humanity, not yourself. You are a new man, a new person, a new Novak.

What you carry and what you let Jesus carry determines if your old self stays dead. Brandon’s story reminds us that no burden is too heavy, no addiction too powerful, and no past too dark to be transformed by God’s love. We just need to give them to Jesus, because He hung them all up on the cross for us, and we were buried with Him in baptism and have been spiritually resurrected into new life with Him. Today, take a step toward leaving behind what holds you back. Lay it down, let it go, and trust in the power of Jesus to lead you into a life filled with purpose and peace. Are you ready to take that step and embrace the freedom that awaits in Christ? I am, I so am, and I will daily give it up to Jesus, join me on the right side of the Novak Effect!

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Cross Perspectives

The Cross through the Perspective of Pilate, Simon of Cyrene, and The Father

By Pastor Vinnie 

Click the player if you’d rather listen to Pastor Vinnie narrate this article for you.

Pilate’s Perspective

I’d seen many men brought before me—rebels, insurrectionists, thieves—but this one was different. They called Him Jesus of Nazareth. Accused of being a king, a threat to Rome, but as He stood before me, I saw no threat in Him. There was something unsettling about His calm, something disconcerting about His silence.

“Are you the king of the Jews?” I asked, hoping He would deny it, make this easier for both of us (Luke 23:3). He looked at me—not with fear, but with a quiet dignity. “You have said so,” He replied, as if that settled it. I felt an unexpected flicker of respect for Him, but I pushed it aside. I had a job to do.

The priests and leaders outside were relentless, shouting accusations, demanding His death. I sent Him to Herod, hoping to avoid condemning an innocent man. But Herod sent Him back, and soon the crowd was pressing in on me, more furious than before. “I find no basis for a charge against this man,” I announced to them, but my words only seemed to enrage them (Luke 23:14).

I offered a compromise: I would punish Him and release Him. But the mob wanted more than punishment—they wanted blood. “Crucify Him!” they cried, again and again. I offered them Barabbas, a known rebel, thinking they would choose to spare Jesus. They didn’t. The fury in their eyes was unlike anything I’d seen before. How could this man, who seemed so peaceful, be hated so much?

I appealed to them once more, almost pleading. “Why? What crime has this man committed?” But they only shouted louder. In that moment, I realized I had no real choice. I was the governor, but I was powerless against the tide of their hatred. If I released Him, there would be a riot, and that would be on my hands.

Finally, I gave the order. I released Barabbas and sentenced Jesus to crucifixion, hoping that washing my hands would somehow absolve me of this decision. But as I watched Him being led away, a heavy feeling settled in my chest. What if I just condemned an innocent man? Or worse—what if He really was who they said He was? I didn’t know. And that question would haunt me long after that day.

Simon of Cyrene’s Perspective

I had only come to Jerusalem for the Passover. I didn’t know much about what was happening in the city that morning, but I quickly realized something big was taking place. A crowd had gathered along the streets, and in the center of it all, I saw a man carrying a cross. He looked beaten, exhausted, barely able to stand. Blood trickled down His face from a crown of thorns pressed onto His head.

Before I could think, a Roman soldier grabbed me, forcing me forward. “You! Carry His cross!” he barked. I wanted to protest, to tell him this wasn’t my business, but the soldier’s grip was firm. There was no escape. I stepped forward, feeling the rough weight of the wood pressing down on my shoulders.

I turned to look at the man beside me, the one they called Jesus. His face was bruised, swollen, but His eyes—they were steady, almost calm. He looked at me, and in that glance, I felt something shift inside me. He didn’t say anything, but somehow, it was as if He was thanking me, as if He understood my reluctance and my fear.

As we walked, I could hear the crowd mocking Him, calling Him names. “If you’re the Son of God, save yourself!” they sneered. But He said nothing in return, just kept moving forward, step by agonizing step. I felt anger rising in me—anger at the cruelty of it all, anger that they could treat a man like this. Who was He to them? What had He done to deserve this?

When we reached the hill, I laid down the cross, exhausted but strangely connected to this man. I’d come to Jerusalem a stranger, but in those brief moments, I felt like I’d shared in His burden. And then, as they nailed Him to the cross, He looked up toward heaven and spoke words I’ll never forget: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34).

Forgive them? Forgive these people who mocked Him, who tortured Him, who were now nailing Him to a cross? My mind reeled. Who had that kind of love, that kind of mercy? I couldn’t comprehend it. Here was a man who had every right to curse those who wronged Him, yet He was asking for their forgiveness.

The Father’s Perspective

From the beginning of creation, I knew this day would come. I saw humanity turn away, again and again, choosing darkness over light, choosing themselves over Me. I knew there was no other way to heal this brokenness, no way to bring my children home unless there was a sacrifice.

Watching my Son carry that cross was a grief deeper than the depths of the earth. He was innocent, yet He bore the sins of everyone—the betrayer and the betrayed, the denier and the devoted, the mocker and the meek. I heard every insult, felt every lash, and saw every wound, but my Son bore them willingly. Love compelled Him, and love compelled Me.

As He hung on the cross, barely clinging to life, He looked up and whispered, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34). And with those words, He sealed the promise. He carried their shame, their guilt, their blindness. Even as they rejected Him, He loved them with an everlasting love.

This moment was why He had come—to forgive, to restore, to bring hope even to those who could not see. And I accepted His plea. I forgave them, and through Him, I forgave everyone who would ever turn back to Me.

Epilogue:

For Pilate, those words would echo long after that day. He had condemned an innocent man, yet that man’s final plea was forgiveness. Could it extend even to him? Could forgiveness reach the hands that had signed His death sentence?

For Simon, Jesus’ words became a turning point. He had come to Jerusalem as a stranger, yet he left with a purpose he could not ignore. The man he had helped carry was no ordinary man. Could anyone love so deeply, forgive so freely?

And for the Father, these words marked the fulfillment of His greatest promise. The moment that forgiveness entered the world as a gift, not earned, but given. Through the cross, the world was offered a new beginning—a chance to be known, loved, and redeemed.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” These words reach beyond Golgotha, speaking into every heart, offering a forgiveness that we cannot fully understand but are invited to receive. Can we accept it? And, in turn, can we learn to forgive as He forgave?

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Seeing Others Like Jesus:

The Power Of Pause

By Pastor Vinnie 

Seeing others like Jesus means to pause and look to Jesus to guide my emotions

Let me be real for a moment—people sometimes assume I have life figured out. I’m a husband, a father, and a theologian. From the outside, it seems like I should have it all together. I spend my days studying Jesus’ life, trying to understand how to live like Him. But here’s the truth: I struggle. A lot.

There are days when it feels like I’m pulled in a hundred different directions, barely holding on. One evening, in particular, stands out. I came home feeling mentally drained, my head full of work deadlines and family responsibilities. The moment I walked in the door, my wife snapped at me over something small. Instantly, frustration flared. I felt the urge to snap back, to let the tension rise.

But something inside whispered, “Pause.”

I took a breath. Instead of reacting, I asked myself, “What’s really going on here?” In that pause, I realized my wife wasn’t angry at me—she was overwhelmed. Just like I was. That moment of empathy changed everything. What could have turned into a heated argument became a moment of connection. I went from hearing her words to understanding her heart.

It was then I realized something important. Emotional intelligence isn’t about pushing down emotions or pretending to be calm. It’s about recognizing what’s really happening inside—both in myself and in the people around me. And I realized this is how Jesus lived: seeing beyond the surface and connecting with people’s hearts.

The Disconnect We All Feel

Even though I spend my life studying faith, I often feel disconnected—like I’m just going through the motions. Do you ever feel that way? Surrounded by people, yet unseen? It’s easy to feel like no one is really paying attention, but then I ask myself the hard question: How often do I fail to see the people around me?

We all carry so much—work stress, personal worries, and relationships that feel strained. It’s easy to rush through the day and miss what’s happening with the people in front of us. But what if we slowed down? What if we paused and asked, “What’s going on beneath the surface?”

Daniel Goleman, an expert on emotional intelligence, said, “In a very real sense, we have two minds, one that thinks and one that feels.” Jesus understood this perfectly. He didn’t just hear people’s words—He felt their pain. That’s what I want for my life too, but I wonder, Am I missing it?

How Jesus Modeled Emotional Intelligence

Jesus as He reaches out to touch and heal the man with leprosy. It reflects the deep emotional connection and love that Jesus shows to those in need.

There’s a story from scripture that always hits me hard. It’s about the man with leprosy who approached Jesus. Most people only saw the man’s disease. He was shunned, isolated, and abandoned. But Jesus? He saw more.

Mark 1:41 says, “Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out His hand and touched the man.” That touch wasn’t just about curing a disease. It was about healing the man’s heart. Jesus saw his emotional wounds and responded with love, while others looked away.

This challenges me. When someone lashes out or shuts down, do I stop to consider what’s really going on with them? Or do I let my own frustrations get in the way of seeing their pain? How often do I miss opportunities to bring healing because I’m too focused on my own reaction?

Simon Sinek put it best: “Empathy is being concerned about the human being, not just their output.” Jesus lived that truth every day. I want to live that way too, but it’s hard.

Why Emotional Intelligence Matters 

Here’s what I’ve learned: Emotional intelligence doesn’t just help others. It transforms me. It helps me in seeing others like Jesus. When I stop trying to fix problems or control situations and instead focus on connecting with people, something shifts inside me. I feel more peace. More patience.

I’ve seen this in my relationships. When I take the time to really listen to my wife, my kids, or even my coworkers, everything changes. The tension eases. Conversations become more meaningful. Suddenly, I’m not seeing them as challenges—I’m seeing them as people who need understanding.

But it’s not always easy. There are plenty of moments when I look back and think, How could that moment have gone differently if I had just paused? If I had taken a breath and asked, “What’s really happening here?” Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” Emotional intelligence helps me connect with those who are hurting. It allows me to offer presence, empathy, and healing—just as Jesus did.

A Step Toward Living Like Jesus

It’s time to take steps to be like Jesus

Here’s what I’m starting to understand: Living like Jesus isn’t about how much scripture I know or how often I go to church. It’s about how I treat the people in my life every day. Emotional intelligence is a huge part of that. If I am going to see others like Jesus did I’ll need a plan. So, here’s my plan: The next time I find myself in a tense moment—whether with my wife, my kids, or a colleague—I’m going to pause. I’ll ask myself, “What’s really going on here? What might this person be feeling?”

I’ve seen it before—that one pause can change everything. I’m convinced this is how Jesus lived. He didn’t rush to judgment. He paused, saw people’s hearts, and responded with love. That kind of love can change my life—and yours too.

If I’m honest, I crave deeper connections. I long for relationships that matter and a life full of purpose. Emotional intelligence has been the key to unlocking that for me. It’s helped me see others as Jesus did—not as problems to fix, but as people who need love and understanding.

So, here’s the question for both of us: Will you pause? Will you take that moment to reflect? Will you choose to live like Jesus in your interactions? The people in my life—my family, my friends, and the people I care about—are waiting for someone to really see them. I want to be that person. Will you?

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