Today, as we honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I go back to a sermon he preached just two months before his assassination. Standing in the pulpit at Ebenezer Baptist Church, he talked about something he called "the drum major instinct," a deep human desire we all have to be out in front, to be recognized, to be first.

Dr. King offered something radically different. He said, "If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That's a new definition of greatness."

Dr. King was quoting Jesus. But he could have just as easily been reading from Philippians 2.

Last week, I wrote about finding joy when the future is uncertain. This week, I want to talk about something that might be harder.

It's one thing when you don't know what's coming. It's another thing entirely when you know exactly where you are, and it feels like prison.

Maybe it’s the job that drains you but you can't leave because you need the income. The financial mess that has you completely boxed in. The relationship that feels suffocating but is complicated to change. Or maybe it's those responsibilities that feel like chains… caring for aging parents, managing chronic illness, stuck in a season you never asked for.

You're not wondering what's next. You know what today is. And today feels like prison.

So the question changes from "How do I trust God when I don't know what's next?" to "How do I trust God when I'm stuck in the present, and it's terrible?"

I still remember March 2020 like it was yesterday.

Only three months earlier I had become the lead pastor of ACAC. Following a man who had successfully lead for 36 years. The plan was crystal clear. My calendar was packed with meetings, my schedule mapped out for months, and I was riding the wave of excitement that comes with a new chapter. Everything felt certain.

Then COVID hit. Within 48 hours, everything shut down. Every plan. Every meeting. Every strategy session. Gone. And I remember sitting there thinking, "How do I lead when I don't even know what's next?"

Maybe you've felt that way too. Not necessarily about a pandemic, but about something. A relationship that's uncertain. A job that feels unstable. A health diagnosis that came out of nowhere. A future that used to feel clear but now feels foggy.

Here's what I've learned... we're wired for certainty. Everything in us craves it. We build our entire lives around trying to control, predict, and manage what's coming next. We have apps that predict the weather two weeks out, retirement calculators that tell us how much we need to save down to the dollar, and GPS systems that reroute us around traffic before we even hit it and tell us within a minute of when we’ll arrive.

We need to know. And when we don't, it steals our joy.

But what if joy isn't found in knowing what's next? What if it's found in knowing Who's next to you?

My dad taught me to write down my goals.

I'll be honest, as a teenager, I really thought it was pointless. But he made me do it, and eventually, the practice of goal writing stuck. Over the years, I've watched this simple discipline shape my life in ways I never anticipated. From navigating career changes, new ministry endeavors, enjoying meaningful experiences with family and friends, and even lower golf scores… the habit of annual review and goal setting has been one of the most powerful tools I’ve learned along the way.

Christmas is supposed to be merry and bright. At least that's what the songs tell us.

But for some of you reading this, this Christmas feels anything but merry. Maybe it's your first Christmas without someone you love. Maybe there's an empty chair at the table that wasn't empty last year. Maybe it’s your first holiday season after a divorce and your watching your kids pack bags to spend half of Christmas somewhere else. Maybe you're facing a health crisis that makes it hard to muster the energy to pretend everything is okay. Maybe the financial stress of the season only highlights what you don't have.

The cultural pressure to be joyful can make the grief feel even heavier.

If that's you today, I want you to know something… your pain is valid. Your struggle is real. And the Christmas story has something to say to you and what you’re experiencing.

If you're a pastor or ministry leader, this one's for you.

Here's the reality… our culture is becoming increasingly post-Christian. The moments when what matters to the world overlaps with what matters to the church are becoming fewer and farther between.

But Christmas? Christmas is different.

Even as people disconnect from Christ, they still love Christmas. They sing songs with biblical theology while shopping at Target and the mall. They show up to church services they'd never attend any other week of the year. And that creates a unique opportunity, one we can't afford to waste.

The question isn't whether Christmas matters. The question is… Are we being strategic and intentional with this moment?

Here's the irony nobody talks about… Christmas, the season celebrating rest, peace, and the Prince of Peace, is often the most exhausting, demanding, and overwhelming time of year for those creatives serving in church ministry.

While everyone else is winding down, sipping hot cocoa, and watching their favorite Christmas movies, you're adding extra rehearsals to an already full schedule. You're managing multiple services, coordinating volunteers, creating something "fresh" for people who've seen every Christmas service imaginable, and somehow trying to be present for your own family.

And then there's the unspoken pressure… "Make it excellent. Make it meaningful. Make people feel something."

I get it. I've been there. I spent years as a worship pastor, and at one point, led 12 services over 4 days. Christmas nearly took me out more than once. Ask my wife and kids about some of our past Christmases, they’ll tell you the hard truth. So if you're reading this here in December, running on fumes, wondering if you can make it to January... this is for you.

Today is Thanksgiving. You've likely already seen dozens of gratitude posts on social media. Maybe you're preparing to go around the table and share what you're thankful for. It's become our annual ritual and there's nothing wrong with that.

But there's something lurking beneath the surface of our celebrations that can ruin the entire day. It's subtle. It's common. And according to the Apostle Paul, it's spiritually dangerous.

I'm talking about ingratitude.

You know that moment when you're trying to watch something important… maybe the finale of your favorite show and suddenly everyone in the house decides it's the perfect time to vacuum, run the dishwasher, and ask you questions?

That's exactly what happens when we try to hear from God. We want to hear His voice, but there's always something else competing for our attention.

Some of you might even be wondering if God still speaks at all. Maybe you feel like you've been ghosted by God.

Let me be clear… God still speaks today. The question isn't whether He's talking, it's whether we're quiet enough to hear Him.

We're really good at loving people from a distance.

We'll sponsor a child in another country for $40 a month, feel good about it, and never learn how to pronounce their name. We'll donate clothes to the homeless shelter but won't engage with the actual people on our streets experiencing homelessness. We'll pray for the nations but won't talk to our neighbor who just moved here from another nation.

Whether it's someone 8,000 miles away or 8 feet away, we prefer the distance. Because distance is safe. Distance is comfortable. Distance doesn't require much from us.

Here's the problem… You cannot love people from a distance.

We've all been there… knowing what we should do but finding creative reasons not to do it. That difficult conversation we need to have. The apology we owe someone. The phone call we keep putting off.

Today I want to talk about one of the most uncomfortable books in the Bible… Jonah. And no, this isn't just a story about a guy who gets swallowed by a fish. That famous fish only appears in three verses. This is a story about us, about our reluctance to take God's love to people we'd rather avoid.

When's the last time you looked in the mirror and thought to yourself, "There's a masterpiece!" My guess is probably never because most of us don't see ourselves as a masterpiece. We see all the things in our life that are holding us back from being who God called us to be. Things like bad habits, poor attitudes, fear, broken relationships, and so many more. 

Here's the thing... As a follower of Jesus, when God looks at you, He sees a masterpiece!

Have you ever had a houseguest? You know, the kind who politely stays within their designated space, careful not to intrude too much on your daily routine? Truth is... many treat Jesus the same way – like a polite houseguest with limited access to the home in our heart. But here's the thing... when Jesus said "abide in me" in John 15, He wasn't asking for a guest pass,  He was asking for the keys to every room in our lives.

This past Sunday during the Super Bowl, millions of fans sported their favorite team's jerseys and gathered around TV's to watch the big game. While they may have looked the part in their team gear, they weren't actually on the field making plays. They were spectators, not participants. The reality is, many of us approach our relationship with Jesus the same way.

Have you ever felt pushback for following Jesus? Maybe it was a raised eyebrow from a family member, tension with a coworker, or that uncomfortable silence when you mention your faith. Here's what we must remember...

If you've ever used Focus mode on your iPhone, you know the immediate sense of peace that comes from silencing the constant stream of notifications. But what happens when you turn it off?

Have you ever noticed how uncomfortable some Christians seem to be with celebration? We've somehow developed this notion that being spiritual means being boring and solemn. However, in the book of Esther, we discover something fascinating... when God delivers, it's time to party!

Most everyone, at some point in their life, is called to work or serve under someone who doesn’t appreciate, value, understand, or lead you well. At the end of the day, you have no control over the words, thoughts, and actions of the person in authority over you. However, what you can control is your response to it. 

The church is not a country club. Now at first read, you probably thought to yourself “no duh!” There’s probably not a church in the world that would describe itself as such. At least I pray that’s not the case! Unfortunately, many churches act as one without recognizing it.

There is nothing like answered prayers to elevate one’s faith. When God shows up and brings an answer, a healing, a promise, a solution to a problem, it ignites your faith and reminds you God truly does hear your prayers. Unfortunately, we often rejoice in the moment only to completely forget His handiwork a few days later. Sure, we remember the “big” answered prayers or the ones that are life-changing in our mind. But what about all the moments in between? How many answered prayers have we forgotten?