Tag: jesus

Thinking Before Speaking is an Important Leadership Skill

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Some of the best leaders I know are often the quietest ones in the room.

They’re not disengaged. They’re not distracted. And they’re certainly not unprepared. They’re thinking.

Yet in many ministry contexts, silence gets misread. If you don’t speak quickly, you must not have much to say. If you don’t jump in immediately, you must not care. If you pause, reflect, or hesitate, you risk being labelled unsure or passive.

There is a common saying: “Still waters run deep.”

Fast Talkers Get Credit, Deep Thinkers Get Results

Modern leadership culture rewards speed. The quickest response often gets the most attention. The person who fills the silence gets assumed authority. In church meetings, this can quietly shape who is seen as decisive and who is overlooked.

But speed is not the same as wisdom.

Introverted leaders tend to process internally before speaking. They listen longer, weigh more factors, and consider consequences others miss. By the time they speak, they’re not brainstorming out loud, they’re offering something refined.

In my research with pastors, this pattern showed up repeatedly. Introverted leaders are slower to speak in meetings, but their contributions carried unusual clarity when they did. The problem wasn’t their leadership. The problem was that the system didn’t always know how to read it.

Scripture Has a Lot to Say About Pauses

The Bible is remarkably suspicious of quick words.

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry” (James 1:19).

Even Proverbs reminds us, “Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent” (Prov. 17:28). That’s a humbling verse for leaders who equate volume with insight.

Jesus Himself regularly disrupted the pressure to respond immediately. One of the most striking moments happens in John 8. A crowd demands an instant judgment. The tension is high. The moment is public.

And Jesus does something unexpected.

He bends down and writes in the dirt.

No rush. No reaction. Just space.

That pause wasn’t indecision. It was authority. Jesus refused to let urgency hijack wisdom.

Silence Is Not Absence

One of the most damaging assumptions in leadership culture is that silence equals disengagement. In reality, silence often signals deep attention.

Introverted leaders are frequently:

  • tracking group dynamics
  • noticing emotional undercurrents
  • praying internally
  • connecting present conversations to past experiences
  • considering long-term implications

That’s not withdrawal. That’s leadership beneath the surface.

The tragedy is that when churches don’t value this kind of processing, they unintentionally train leaders to talk before they’re ready. Over time, speed replaces discernment, and confidence replaces wisdom.

Why This Matters for Ministry

Ministry decisions carry weight. They shape people’s lives, families, and faith. Not every decision should be made at conversational speed.

Leaders who think before they speak help slow the room down. They introduce discernment into reactive spaces. They remind teams that silence can be productive, not awkward.

If you’re an introverted leader, you don’t need to apologize for your pace. You don’t need to compete with louder voices. And you don’t need to force yourself into constant verbal processing just to be seen as engaged.

Your pause may be the most responsible thing you bring to the table.

A Word to Leadership Teams

If you lead alongside introverts, resist the urge to measure contribution by airtime. Some of the most faithful leadership happens quietly.

Ask better questions.
Allow space after discussions.
Invite reflection, not just reaction.

You may discover that the leader who speaks last often speaks best.

Thinking Is Not Hesitation, It’s Stewardship

Jesus never confused urgency with obedience. He moved decisively when the time was right, but He never let pressure rush Him.

In a world that prizes quick answers, the church desperately needs leaders who think before they speak. Leaders who pause. Leaders who pray. Leaders who understand that wisdom often arrives after the noise dies down.

Thinking before speaking isn’t a liability.

It’s a leadership skill.

And the church would be healthier if we treated it that way.

Rest is Not a Reward

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Some pastors treat rest like it is a gold medal at the end of a ministry marathon, the prize you get only after you have preached, visited, emailed, texted, counselled, solved a crisis, cleaned up the youth room, and contemplated the meaning of life in the parking lot. In other words, we rest only when we are one sermon away from burning toast instead of burning bright.

The problem, of course, is that God never treated rest like a treat. He baked it right into the recipe for being human. It was never meant to be the finish line; it was meant to be part of the rhythm.

Genesis tells us that God rested on the seventh day.
Not because He was tired. Not because the angels had worn Him out with questions. He rested because He was modelling the kind of life that actually works. From the very beginning, God wove rest into the fabric of creation. If the Creator of the universe practiced rest, then His pastors probably should not act like rest is optional, or worse, sinful.

And then you get to the Sabbath command.
It sits right there with the big ones. No idols, no adultery, take a nap. God does not say, “Rest if you earned it.” He says, “Rest because you exist.” It is a gift, not a gold star.

Then Jesus comes along in the New Testament and, frankly, He doubles down. Jesus rested often and unapologetically. He took off to lonely places to pray. He napped in boats. He ate long meals. He withdrew from the crowds even when people had legitimate needs. Jesus, the most productive human in history, had a rhythm that would make most pastors feel guilty. But He was not guilty, He was healthy.

If the Son of God can say no, step away, sleep through a storm, and take time to breathe, then introverted pastors certainly can too. Rest is not laziness. Rest is obedience. It is humility. It is admitting we are not God, we are not infinite, and no amount of caffeine can magically make us omnipresent.

For introverted pastors, this matters even more. We recharge differently. We burn out differently. And we recover differently. When we treat rest like a bonus instead of a baseline, we get worn thin, sharp around the edges, emotionally brittle, and spiritually foggy. That is when even good ministry starts feeling like punishment.

So here is the truth you already know but probably hate to admit:
Rest is not a reward for surviving your week.
Rest is a requirement for serving your King.

Build it into your rhythm. Schedule it like a meeting you refuse to cancel. Guard it like you guard your preaching time. Let Sabbath be Sabbath again, not an afterthought squeezed between two ministry emergencies.

Rest is not a reward. It is a reminder.
A reminder that God is God, and we are not.
A reminder that we serve from fullness, not exhaustion.
A reminder that the Shepherd leads us beside still waters, not into endless hustle.

And if anyone asks why you are resting, just smile and say what Jesus said, “The Sabbath was made for people.” Then go take your nap with a clean conscience.

Are you in a Barren or Bearing Season?

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Do you realize that the answer to this question may have everything to do with your attitude toward the season you’re in? It’s easy to bear fruit when life is good, ministry is healthy, and God’s favour is palpable. But can you continue to bear fruit during a “dark night of the soul” kind of season?

I was “let go” from a ministry position in 2011. After two years of struggle and challenge, the church saw its future best without me. It’s true, we had a difference in philosophy of ministry. The larger issue, I have come to believe after years of reflection, is that I was the wrong personality fit. I was an introvert working with 7 extroverted pastors, and I didn’t have the tools at the time to address the misaligned expectations and communication gaps.

During the interim, I still needed to put food on the table for my family. While I struggled to find another ministry position, I took a job in construction.

I was bitter because this was below me.

That was my attitude. I would ask God, Why am I here? Haven’t I served you well? Don’t I deserve a ministry position? I am the most educated person here, but I am at the bottom of the hierarchy! Lord, why have You forsaken me? Why are pastors with less education and less experience getting hired over me?

I was focused solely on myself and what had been taken from me. It wasn’t a healthy place mentally, and when I slowed down to listen to God, He started gently correcting me. He helped me be thankful that we never missed a mortgage payment or even a meal. I was thankful to have the support of my amazing wife. I was thankful to have the opportunity to provide pulpit supply at the church we began attending. There were countless ways that God was blessing us, but I was missing it because I was only focused on what I had lost.

Then came the big question: God, I have been called to pastoral ministry, why have you kept me from my calling?

The answer: You are still a pastor, your church just looks different.

God was clear: if I am called to be a pastor, then I can fulfill that calling, even while building houses. So I made the mental shift and told God, Okay, I will build houses for free, and they will pay me to be their staff pastor. Of course, I didn’t announce that to my foreman, but that shift in attitude changed everything. I went from a pitiful, barren season to a beautiful bearing season.

Let’s be honest, our feelings are not a switch that we can simply turn on or off. Writing about changing my attitude was much simpler than the actual process, but I want to encourage you to do the difficult work.

1. Admit Your Feelings of Self-Pity

Perhaps it’s not even self-pity; maybe it’s something stronger, maybe not quite that strong, but you know your attitude is not helping you. We can’t deal with the problem until we admit there is a problem. If you feel you are in a barren season but you’re not sure why, ask God to reveal it to you.

2. Give it to God

I know, I know, it’s super cliche. That doesn’t make it any less true. I wrote above that I simply made a mental shift, but it wasn’t just about convincing myself that there’s light at the end of the tunnel. I had to give my concerns and anger and pride and every other negative feeling to God. He heard my lament and my accusations and my cry for help.

3. Repent of Sin

The Father lovingly revealed to me that I was deep in pride. Funny, isn’t it, that my loss of self-worth was rooted in my pride? So I began the process of repenting, turning away from sin and toward God. It wasn’t quick nor easy, but it was so good. This is the kind of work the Holy Spirit will do in us when we humble ourselves and allow Him to speak into our lives.

4. Walk it Out

This is the tough part.

Why?

Because I had the same construction job. My circumstances hadn’t changed, and my reputation hadn’t revived. It can be difficult to change your attitude when none of the things that brought you to that place have changed. Paul, who wrote those inspiring words, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength,” was writing from a place of physical stuck-ness, but spiritually victorious. And while we are in desert seasons, we too can bear much fruit, and fruit that will last, through Christ who gives us strength.

What Would Jesus Do?

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If you were a Christian in the 90s, you are undoubtedly familiar with WWJD bracelets, a simple reminder to live like Jesus in everyday life. But have you ever stopped to really ask, What would Jesus do… if He were a pastor in 2025?

Would He have a podcast? Run a leadership conference? Post sermon clips to Instagram Reels? Maybe. But knowing what we know of Jesus’ life and habits, I think He’d do ministry a little differently.

In a world obsessed with visibility, Jesus valued withdrawal. In a culture that rewards volume, He prized listening. In a time when crowds demanded constant access, He often chose solitude.

1. Jesus Knew When to Step Away

Luke 5:16 says, “Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”
That’s not a one-off moment of burnout recovery; it’s a pattern. Even when ministry was booming, He slipped away. When the crowds pressed in, He stepped out.

If Jesus led a church today, I don’t think He’d buy into our unspoken rule that busyness equals faithfulness. He’d probably close His laptop midweek, take a long walk by the river, and remind us that fruit grows in silence before it’s seen in public.

The Son of God didn’t fear missing out, He feared missing the Father’s voice.

2. Jesus Didn’t Need to Be the Loudest Voice in the Room

When Jesus spoke, people listened, not because He shouted, but because He carried authority. He asked questions. He told stories. He paused. He let silence do its work.

Our modern church culture tends to equate charisma with calling, as if the Spirit moves most when the mic is hot and the energy is high. But some of Jesus’ most profound moments happened in whispers, in quiet homes, on secluded hillsides, around small tables.

Imagine Jesus at a staff meeting today. I don’t think He’d dominate the conversation. He’d listen carefully, ask heart-level questions, and speak only when it mattered most. His power wasn’t in performance but in presence.

3. Jesus Focused on Depth, Not Numbers

We often celebrate ministry through metrics such as attendance, engagement, and growth curves. Jesus poured into twelve. And within that twelve, He gave special attention to three.

He could draw crowds of thousands, yet He consistently chose smaller circles. That’s not a strategy of inefficiency, it’s a vision for transformation. Jesus knew that deep roots produce lasting fruit.

If He led a church today, I suspect He’d spend less time on the stage and more time around tables. He’d still preach to the multitudes, but He’d invest the best of His energy in a handful of people, teaching, mentoring, and walking with them until they learned to walk with God themselves.

4. Jesus Valued Being Over Doing

When Martha was busy serving and Mary was sitting quietly at His feet, Jesus gently said, “Mary has chosen what is better” (Luke 10:42).

That doesn’t mean He disapproved of hard work, He simply knew that our identity isn’t earned by ministry activity. The modern church often measures success by output. Jesus measures it by obedience.

I imagine Jesus walking into some of our leadership conferences today and asking, “How’s your soul?” Not, “How’s your strategy?”

A Different Kind of Ministry

Jesus would thrive in any era, but He’d probably surprise us with His methods. He’d still love the crowds but never chase them. He’d still teach truth, but with compassion and rest in His tone. He’d still confront hypocrisy, but without self-promotion.

He’d remind us that the Kingdom doesn’t expand through noise but through love.
That power isn’t proven by personality but by presence.
That sometimes the holiest thing a leader can do is stop, breathe, and listen for the still, small voice of God.

In short, if Jesus were ministering today, He’d still do exactly what He’s always done:
Withdraw to pray, walk slowly with people, tell stories that reveal the heart of God, and give His life for others.

And maybe that’s our cue. In a loud world, perhaps following Jesus means learning again to live quietly, with courage, conviction, and deep communion with the Father.

You May Be Your Own Best Advocate

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The Background

For most of my twelve years at my current church, I’ve worked with relatively loose oversight in a mid-sized congregation of about 150 people, supported by two full-time and five part-time staff. We lacked official policies, HR, and often clear job descriptions.

Over the past twelve years, we’ve partnered with Church Renewal (CR). If you’re unfamiliar, it’s not a traditional church growth strategy, though we’ve experienced numeric growth. It focuses on helping pastors and leaders abide in Christ faithfully and teach renewal practices to their congregations. This isn’t a pitch for CR, just context. During this time, we also moved to a larger facility and have grown to approximately 600 attendees on Sundays with an expanded staff, including four full-time and ten part-time members.

With this growth, leaders are now focusing on policies, procedures, and HR needs. Staff have updated job descriptions and clarified responsibilities. Recently, we discussed which events are mandatory for staff, pastoral staff, encouraged, or optional.

The Lesson

Before diving into the background, the main lesson I’ve learned is that advocating for yourself—especially as an introverted leader—is critical for thriving over the long haul. Don’t stay quiet and simply adapt; learning to voice your needs shapes a healthier work environment for everyone.

Why?

We don’t like confrontation and are often the lone dissenting voice in meetings, so we usually keep it to ourselves. We prefer to think out our responses, so if a topic arises unexpectedly, we haven’t had time to process. We want to analyze: Is making events mandatory reasonable? What will it cost personally?

The Answer

My doctoral research revealed that one of the key indicators of remaining healthy in leadership over the long haul is having an advocate, and often that means you need to advocate for yourself.

During that meeting, I held back my words while I processed my thoughts. I shared a little: like the fact that some of us do not work office hours, but are in the building already 3 nights, so that’s worth considering when we make events mandatory. It’s also different for employees with young children than it is for those who are empty-nesters.

After the meeting, I followed up with our senior pastor; actually, he followed up with me. And I had some time to reflect further on it. In the safety of a closed discussion with my pastor, I was able to better advocate for myself and others on staff who have different hours and home situations.

Why it works

There’s no audience to jump in and interrupt me or devalue my perspective. I’m sure that other staffers don’t mean to devalue my input, but when they quickly cut me off or tell me outright it’s not valid, it teaches me to speak less.

I’ve also had time to sort out my emotions so that I can share my thoughts free from the emotions that are negatively tied back to a past position. In my previous position, I was expected to put in over sixty hours every week as a minimum. They justified it by saying everyone volunteers, so pastors ought to give their forty paid hours and then volunteer above and beyond. I agree with this, but not to the tune of 20-30 hours a week.

Can you think of a time that you felt steamrolled in a meeting and frustrated? There are strategies to slow down meetings or, as in this instance, circle back later one-on-one to freely give thoughtful input.

The truth is, introverts are often more thoughtful and slower to respond, which means our feedback is often worth listening to. If you are an introvert, consider discussing with your leadership the possibility of slowing down meetings. Help them to understand your need for space in the meeting to process before sharing. Help them pay attention to not only the quantity of words shared at meetings, but also the quality. Request an agenda in advance so you can prepare your thoughts before the meeting. Ask for follow up meetings; they don’t have to be long, but just take the opportunity to debrief quickly when necessary.

If you are an extroverted leader, intentionally create space for introverts to share by inviting their input, encouraging reflection, and following up for their feedback. Actively choose to foster a culture where all voices are valued.

When You Lose Your Voice

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Like many churches, my home church has multiple services. Two to be exact. And, like many preachers, some Sundays I preach a long message. Fifty-nine minutes to be exact.

About forty minutes into the first sermon I felt a “frog” in my throat. By the end of the second service, my voice had gone from gravelly to squeaky. Though I’ve tried to rest my voice as much as possible over the past 27 hours, it has been reduced to a whisper.

As you may be able to imagine, it has been frustrating trying to communicate with others. A good friend of mine offered me a ticket to the Labour Day Classic in Regina. It was a great game, with great seats! However, I could not offer my voice in support of the home team, nor converse with my friend in the loud stadium. This morning, on the last day of summer holidays before the kids go back to school, it has been a great struggle communicating with my children. I’ve realized very quickly how much I take my voice for granted.

As I was considering this week’s blog and considering the challenges of being voiceless, it hit me: this is how many introverted leaders feel all the time. In a church culture that celebrates charisma, boldness, and non-stop talking, introverts often feel like their voices are lost. Not because they aren’t speaking, but because their quieter way of communicating gets drowned out.

I’ve got good news though: God doesn’t require you to out-shout the extroverts to be an effective leader. He values your voice, even if it’s quieter than the crowd.

Your voice matters, even if it’s quiet

When I lost my voice, I discovered something. I had to choose my words carefully; not everything needs to be spoken out loud. Introverted leaders already do this. We may not dominate conversations, or talk in big bursts, but certainly our daily word count is likely to be much lower than that of our extroverted colleagues. But when we do speak, our words carry weight. Quiet doesn’t mean empty; it can also mean thoughtful, deliberate, and worth listening to.

Sometimes silence speaks louder than noise

With no voice, silence fills the space. The beauty? For introverts that silence isn’t always awkward. It can be powerful. Introverts instinctively know how to let silence work for us. A pause in a meeting. Sitting is stillness with someone who is grieving. Listening fully instead of rushing to fill the air. Sometimes silence itself is the most profound form of communication.

God uses the weak voices to carry His strong Word

Throughout Scripture, God delights in using people with less-than-perfect voices. Moses stuttered. Jeremiah said he was too young. Paul admitted he wasn’t a polished speaker. Yet God used them all. Why? Because the power of the word wasn’t necessarily in the voice, but in the message. The same is true for you. Your quieter, smaller voice is not a liability. It’s a canvas for God’s strength to shine through.

Lean into your quiet strength

You don’t need to compete with the volume or the word count of the extroverts at the table. You just need to faithfully use the voice God has given you, even when it cracks, whispers, or goes hoarse. Because God can amplify even the faintest whisper when it carries His truth.

Relatively Undisturbed Lives

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As a youth pastor, summer is a relatively slow time. Sure, I’ve spoken at two camps, which meant preparing an extra 16 messages and spending an intense couple of weeks hanging out with teens. Trust me, it still feels slow compared to the September-June routine of ministering through a school year. With that break, I’ve been able to get a lot more reading done than usual, including a book my daughter, a YWAM-Brisbane staffer, suggested to me.

My daughter recommended Discipleship Begins with Beholding by Samuel Whitefield, so I naturally ordered a copy on Amazon and took it with me to camp. It’s a good read. I don’t think I enjoyed it as much as Emma, but I’m glad I read it. There’s one phrase, though, that jumped out to me.

Relatively Undisturbed Lives

In Psalm 132, David locks eyes with God’s beauty, and it wrecks him. That ache becomes his heartbeat: “I will not give sleep to my eyes… until I find a place for the LORD.” He won’t rest until God rests among His people. And in his own unsettled life, he modelled what a longing for God looks like.

Nearly three thousand years later, that longing remains unanswered. Jesus hasn’t returned. Heaven hasn’t touched earth. And yet… there are many of us who no longer ache. We live what Samuel Whitefield describes as “relatively undisturbed lives”: lives of quiet Sunday religion, hasty prayers, and missions more about comfort than sacrifice.

We sing “Jesus is coming again.” But do we feel it? Do we live with the ache of anticipation, or with the complacency of contentment?

Comfort Is a Danger Zone

Here’s the thing: no one scoffs at rest. But if we’re resting on our terms, without longing, we’ve lost something. David’s heart broke under the weight of divine beauty. Our hearts barely flutter when Jesus isn’t at the center. That’s the real crisis.

Jesus endured the cross so that He could receive His inheritance. And He’s still waiting patiently and graciously for His bride to awaken with His zeal. Yet many of us snooze, barely noticing.

What Would David Do Today?

Imagine David’s psalm rising in our churches today. He’d challenge us:

  • Are you living with longing or settling for ease?
  • Are your prayers urgent or habitual?
  • Do your actions reflect a world waiting for its king?

We Need a Witness of Longing

The world doesn’t need more people who sound good on Sundays. We need people who look like they are living in exile, homesick, yearning, anchored in something not yet seen.

Imagine a church so full of longing that people would ask, “What are they waiting for?” Then the answer wouldn’t be, “Comfort,” but “Jesus.”

Step Toward the Ache

  • Sit quietly and let God’s absence, yes, absence, be felt.
  • Ask: “Do I miss you more than my schedule, my successes, my security?”
  • Pray with David:
    “I will not rest until you dwell among us.”

If we live without longing, we risk loving the age, not the King. May our hearts ache, not for the past or our comfort, but for the day when His kingdom comes and God finally rests among His people.

The Illusion of the Grand Gesture

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When my wife and I visit with other couples, we often ask how they met. Oftentimes, the couple will look at each other with a smile. It may be a story they’ve rehearsed many times, yet they still love to recount it for us because it reminds them of their relational beginning. Sometimes it may be a long and winding tale, and others, perhaps met on a dating app. Either way, we love to hear their stories because we love our own story.

People also often ask, “How did he propose?”

In this area, I failed. It isn’t a story full of rose petals, fireworks, and champagne. No. I had a ring burning a hole in my pocket, and I couldn’t wait another moment to ask her. Earlier that evening, I had driven to her parents’ farm to ask their blessing. (They didn’t give it, but that’s another story for another blog) Unbeknownst to my future fiancé, we went for a walk in the shadow of that denial of blessing. As we were getting closer to my parents’ house, I stopped my girlfriend, took her hand in mine, and looked deep into her eyes. (I did it in front of my friend Ingrid’s house so that I would always remember the exact spot I proposed) That was it. Not even on one knee, but heart racing, I asked Beckee to be my wife.

Her mind was overwhelmed with joy at the proposal, but also knowing that I would have already spoken with her parents, and that it wouldn’t have gone well. Eventually, she did accept my proposal.

I always wish I had made a bigger scene, something more romantic, something that would impress others when she told the story of her engagement. But here’s the real deal, here’s the truth of the matter: anyone who has been married for more than five minutes knows the proposal doesn’t determine the marriage. That grand moment may set the stage, but it’s the quiet consistency of the days that follow that really tells the story.

This pressure for the dramatic doesn’t just show up in youthful romance; it finds its way into our faith, too. In some circles, testimonies seem to need at least three addictions and one near-death experience to be considered truly inspiring. But the truth is, most of the Christian life isn’t lived on a stage or in front of an audience. It’s lived in kitchens, cubicles, classrooms, and coffee shops.

The danger of the grand gesture mentality is that it fools us into thinking faithfulness has to be flashy. That the biggest moments are the truest indicators of spiritual depth. But that’s not how the Bible describes maturity.

Paul wrote in Colossians 3:23-24: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”

Whatever you do. That means washing dishes. Writing emails. Listening patiently. Forgiving quietly. Praying in secret. Whatever you do.

We don’t need to manufacture grand gestures to prove our love for Jesus. Sometimes the greatest act of faith is just showing up and choosing Him in the ordinary. He sees that. He honours that.

Romans 12 talks about offering our bodies as a living sacrifice. Not a once-and-done dramatic altar call moment. A living, breathing, daily rhythm of surrender. That means we offer not just our big decisions, but our tiny ones, too. Not just our call to missions, but our call to be kind when we’re tired. Not just our promises, but our patience.

The Christian life is a long obedience in the same direction. Not a highlight reel. Not a spiritual fireworks show. Just faithful steps.

So if your story doesn’t involve an Instagrammable testimony or a mountaintop moment this week, take heart. You’re not missing it. You might be exactly where God wants you.

There’s no illusion in a faithful life. Just a quiet kind of glory.

Keep going.

A Burden of Guilt with No Path to Life

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One of the books on my summer reading list is Room for Good Things to Run Wild by Josh Nadeau. I’m about a third into it and I’m captivated, highly recommend. There’s one line in particular that has captured my attention:

“I was given a burden of guilt with no path to Life.”

That phrase has stuck with me, because I believe it resonates with many Christians, whether they’d say it out loud or not. I’ve seen it. I’ve heard the stories. People sitting in church pews every week, carrying a weight of shame or performance-based faith, but with no clear picture of how to step into the freedom Jesus offers.

When Faith Feels Heavy

For some, Christianity feels like a to-do list: be better, serve more, pray harder, don’t mess up. And while spiritual disciplines are good and necessary, they are never meant to be the point. If we’re not careful, the way we teach or the tone we set in our churches can unintentionally suggest that God’s love is earned by effort, not freely received by grace.

Jesus spoke directly to this when He said:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Jesus’ invitation is clear: He offers rest, not more weight. But how often do our teaching, our systems, or even our casual conversations reflect that reality? Are we showing people the path to life or just telling them to try harder?

Are We Pointing People to Life?

As a church leader, I think about this often. Are we teaching people how to rest in Jesus, to find life in Him, or are we simply piling on expectations that appear spiritual but lack genuine grace?

  • Are our sermons filled with practical steps but short on hope and gospel truth?
  • Are we unintentionally shaming people for their struggles instead of pointing them to the Saviour who carries our burdens?
  • Are we so focused on what Christians should be doing that we forget to tell them what Christ has already done?

When we emphasize rules without relationship, or service without the joy of knowing Jesus, we create a faith that’s exhausting instead of life-giving.

To Those Who Feel the Weight

If you’re reading this and you feel like your faith is mostly guilt, shame, or pressure, I want you to hear this clearly: that’s not the gospel. That’s not the way of Jesus.

The gospel is Good News! Freedom News! Jesus came to take your guilt, not heap more on your shoulders. He doesn’t say “Earn my love.” He says, “Come to me and rest.”

To the Church

Let’s be careful about the way we lead, teach, and disciple. Let’s create space for honesty and vulnerability instead of performance. Let’s make sure we’re not just telling people what not to do, but showing them how to step into the joy and abundance that life with Jesus offers.

Because if our teaching only gives people guilt without the path to life, we’ve missed the heart of the gospel.

An Invitation

Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). That’s the invitation. Not just survival. Not just “trying harder.” But life, deep, overflowing, grace-filled life.

If you’ve been carrying a heavy burden, take some time today to sit with Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28-30. Ask Him what He wants to carry for you. Ask Him to teach you His rhythm of grace and rest.

Church, let’s never forget: our job is not to pile burdens on, but to lead people to the One who lifts them off.

Not Another To-Do List

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Nestled between rebukes of unrepentant cities and proud religious elites, Jesus offers one of His most tender invitations. The epitome of being instead of doing. Jesus condemns the spiritual blindness of Korazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. The Lord gave them more than enough evidence to repent and receive life, but they refused to receive it. Oh, these “wise ones” who cannot understand the simplest truth. No, it is the humble and dependent ones who receive the revelation. The children and the child-like.

Then Jesus offers to those who approach Him as children:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:28-30

Can we just take a moment to breathe this in?

Is anyone tired of the performative dance called “religion”? Has anyone stressed themselves out trying to live up to a man-made standard? Has any been made to feel lesser-than because they have a limit to their ability to sacrifice for the religious institution?

Jesus offers the solution. He does not give us a to-do list including more prayer, more reading, more serving, more singing, more planning center, more attendance, more doing, more more.

Once again, pause, and breathe it in.

The solution is to rest. Not just stop doing things. Sometimes that’s what we need, but Jesus invites us to rest in Him. A yoke, as you may know, is an instrument of hard work and production. Two animals are linked by a yoke, giving them the ability to pull a greater weight for a longer time. But when you are yoked to Jesus, it’s not so you can do more. He proclaims, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

As a church leader, I rely on volunteers. I need a lot of people to do a lot of work to accomplish the tasks of modern ministry. However, far more important than putting in hours of work at the church is putting in hours of rest with Jesus. Tending our souls and ministering from a place of overflow, not exhaustion.

Friends, guilt is a horrible motivator. You may keep working and serving until you are burned out and exhausted… in Jesus’ name. Sometimes, even well-meaning leaders push people from rest to exhaustion. But guilt is a terrible motivator. Jesus doesn’t lead that way. There is a time to work, and a time to play, and a time to rest. Consider this your invitation to enjoy some time in the presence of the One who is humble in heart, and find rest for your soul

So, before you rush to do more, rest. Let Jesus carry the weight. He isn’t recruiting you to religion; He’s inviting you into a relationship. Your soul was made for this.