I want to make a confession: preaching isn’t my favorite thing to do as a pastor.
Please don’t misunderstand me. Preaching ranks high on my list of callings as a faith leader. Over my decades in the pulpit, I’ve been graced to preach in wonderful places, inspired by beautiful people. There’s something about that moment standing before a congregation — the atmosphere, the cadence, the energy — I love all of it. Communicating God’s truth through my own personality is a thrill hard to put into words.
But as much as I love preaching, teaching Bible study is my number one thing. Hands down.
Maybe it’s because teaching is interactive. People can’t ask a question mid-sermon. Teaching the Bible is a different kind of work — it’s the space of transformation, where prejudices get exposed, traditions get confronted, and questions get wrestled with instead of settled. Give me a Bible study any day.
I witnessed that this week. I was teaching Bible study at the church I serve, and we were discussing discipleship. I know — religious jargon, right? But hear me out. The conversation centered on the question: What does it mean to follow Jesus? And I don’t mean that in some archaic, churchy way. I mean, as a person of faith in 2026 — what does it actually mean to follow a Middle Eastern religious teacher with an unfulfilled apocalyptic hope, who struggled against oppression in first-century Palestine? Who are we, in light of who Jesus was? For me, that’s the most important question a faith leader can ask: Who are we, and what are we doing here?
For many people, this is simple: “…believe on the Lord Jesus Christ…” (Acts 16:31). Discipleship, in this view, is little more than adhering to a doctrinal belief. But for me, believing was never Jesus’ emphasis. His teaching called into question how people behaved, not what they believed. Behavior modification demands something different than mere assent. To believe is an act of the intellect — it costs little. I believe my name is Jeremy, but that belief could shift with almost no effort. To change how I behave, how I show up in the world — that requires a different level of commitment. That requires more than confession.
And that’s the chasm widening between the sacred and the secular in our society right now. Christian nationalism has gripped the halls of power in America — the fringe idea that God demands the world bow to the theological whims of a Christian empire. That idea is rightly being questioned by the public. Why should we worship an image of God who cosigns oppression, injustice, and manipulation? Who says we owe allegiance to a caricature of a loving Creator who showers favor on the select few while destroying every dissenter? Something in that language doesn’t add up.
Evangelical circles are quick to blame the devil for people “falling away” from church — as if questioning the tradition is itself a sign of wayward faith. I disagree. Maybe people are asking these questions because they’re waking up. Maybe they’re realizing that what we’ve been taught to call God isn’t God at all. Maybe we’re finally raising our voices against the flimsy, false images of the divine we’ve inherited. Maybe people are finally asking the right questions.
At some point, faith has to transcend intellectual assent. To be a person of faith means choosing to live in light of a higher reality — period. Who is my faith calling me to be? Today. Right now. In my sphere of influence. Who am I, and what am I doing in the name of God?
One of my favorite postmodern philosophers, Dr. John Caputo, put it best in his most recent book. He writes that our ambition as the faithful is “to make ourselves worthy of what is going on in the name of God.” I haven’t been able to shake that line.
May we be found so worthy.
So let me ask you: Where has your faith cost you something more than belief? What would it look like to make yourself worthy of what is going on the name of God this week?
Stay unsettled.
Graced & grateful,
jsb