Pew Research published findings in 2025 that are encouraging and sobering. They report that the decline in Christian affiliation in the United States has begun to slow down. That is to say, the sharp drop of the last two decades may be leveling off. Research from the Barna Group reports that Christian identification has, in fact, stabilized. But the centrality of faith among self-identified Christians has dropped 20 percentage points over 25 years. In 2000, 74% of Christians said their faith was central to their lives. Today that number is around 54%.

Think about that. The building still stands but our foundation is shifting.

I don’t believe this is a story about cultural pressure, though that is real. It is a story about formation. When faith is reduced to identity without practice, affiliation without transformation, belonging without discipleship, it becomes thin. And thin faith is not particularly sticky. It’s not transferable. It lacks substance.

Thin faith is not transferable.

Our goal as ministers is not to increase attendance. Attendance is the outcome of our ministry but it cannot be the goal. We reach more people, and therefore increase attendance. However, we are successful pastors when we equip people for ministry. Paul reminds church leadership in Ephesus to, “equip the saints to do the work (Eph. 4.12).” This is how the church is built and how we reverse the decline in Christian attendance.

The research presented by Pew and Barna is not a verdict. It is a question that we need to consider honestly. Are we making disciples of Jesus that are equipped and challenged to pass on their faith? Or are we making consumers of Christian culture where our churches have become the marketplace of a thin and fleeting faith?

Sources: US Christian Decline Has Slowed, May Have Leveled Off — Pew Research Center | Faith’s Shrinking Influence — Barna Group

The paradox is this: healthy community requires healthy individuals who know themselves apart from the group. Your true self strengthens the community; your false self weakens it. As Dallas Willard notes, “The greatest need you and I have is to be in union with God as a part of his people.” This union grounds us in something deeper than social performance.

The Apostle Paul understood this tension: “Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10). As Christians, we believe our identity in Christ reflects the truest version of ourselves, not the version we perform for others.

Carefully detach your identity from external validation. Carefully discover your true self. This is not selfishness but stewardship. The people counting on you need the real you, not the anxious version constantly seeking approval. True love flows from secure identity, not from desperate need.

Many Christians view their relationship with God as transactional. We pray because we need something. We serve because we should. We obey hoping God will bless us. This subtle shift transforms discipleship from loving communion into religious obligation. Gary Tyra warns against this tendency, noting that authentic spiritual formation emerges not from effort-driven religion but from Spirit-empowered relationship.

Jesus illustrates this distinction in John 15:1-8. He does not command, “Work harder for me.” Instead, he invites, “Remain in me, as I also remain in you” (John 15:4, NIV). The vine does not compensate branches for producing fruit. Branches simply abide, drawing life from their source. Fruit comes naturally from that connection. Similarly, our spiritual vitality flows not from working for God but from walking with God, abiding in his presence through the Spirit’s empowering work.

A transactional mindset produces anxiety and burnout. We constantly measure our performance, wondering if we have done enough. Walking with God, however, invites us into grace-filled rest. Tyra emphasizes that the Holy Spirit initiates and sustains our transformation, making discipleship fundamentally relational rather than achievement-based. We respond to God’s love rather than earning it.

Consider your own spiritual life. Do you approach God primarily when you need something? Does your devotion feel like obligation? Does guilt drive your service? These patterns reveal transactional thinking. God invites you instead to abide, to remain connected to Christ through prayerful dependence on the Spirit. Stop working for God’s approval. You already have it through Christ. Begin walking with God today, resting in his transforming grace as you journey together.

Gary Tyra, Introduction to Spirituality: Living the Spirit-Led Life (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2024), 45-62

The problem of elsewhere is that it’s not entirely here. We’re lured by external experiences that seem far more enticing than our own. We find ourselves wishing we were there far more than we appreciate being here.

Your smartphone is an infinite portal to elsewhere, an endless invitation to miss out on the life in front of you. We scroll through carefully curated lives and want to be there, doing that. As MIT professor Sherry Turkle wrote about life with smartphones: “We are forever elsewhere.”

Challenge yourself to be here. Allow yourself to settle into the ordinary moments of your own life. Release your curiosity about other people’s adventures and become fully committed to your own. Digital wandering is always accompanied by anxiety and the fear of missing out—a restless hunger that can never be satisfied.

Allow yourself to settle into the ordinary moments of your own life.

Stillness is the art of presence. Calm yourself and embrace your day by embracing the people around you. Be attentive to the conversation happening now, the meal in front of you, the work at hand. As the Psalmist reminds us: “Be still, and know that I am God.” In stillness, we remember that God meets us here—not in the endless scroll of elsewhere, but in the sacred simplicity of this moment.

Technology has made it easier than ever to communicate, yet harder to connect. Messages fly around the world in seconds, but empathy rarely survives the trip. Artificial intelligence now has the ability to drafts our emails, smooths our tone, and finishes our sentences. Helpful? Absolutely. But something sacred is lost when convenience replaces presence.

Something sacred is lost when convenience replaces presence.

Conversation is not merely the exchange of words; it is the meeting of souls. It is listening with curiosity, asking without agenda, and responding with compassion. AI can simulate the rhythm of dialogue, but not its heartbeat. It can mirror tone, but not spirit.

In 1908, British essayist G.K. Chesterton warned, “The trouble with talking too fast is you may say something you haven’t thought of yet.” That line feels prophetic now. We are drowning in words but starving for meaning.

Ministry must reclaim the holy ground of conversation.

Ministry must reclaim the holy ground of conversation. Pastors, leaders, and friends must resist the drift toward shallow connection. Whether in a counseling room or over coffee, slow speech and attentive silence still shape hearts in ways technology cannot.

AI can start the conversation, but only presence can make it sacred.

It’s tempting to think we’re learning faster than ever. But speed is not the same as depth. And convenience is not the same as formation.

Speed is not the same as depth. And convenience is not the same as formation.

True learning, the kind that shapes character and cultivates wisdom, has always required struggle. The apostle Paul knew this when he wrote about pressing toward the goal, running the race, fighting the good fight. Formation happens in the friction. It’s the mental wrestling, the late-night confusion, the slow dawning of understanding that builds not just knowledge, but resilience, humility, and discernment.

When AI removes the struggle, it also removes the possibility of growth. We bypass the challenge and also the reward. Remember: information is not the goal. Information is a depreciating commodity in a world where wisdom is becoming scarce. If we are not careful, we may shortcut the very process that makes us teachable.

Information is a depreciating commodity in a world where wisdom is becoming scarce.

Education is not just about knowing more, it’s about becoming more. And becoming requires perseverance. Leaders who rely too heavily on instant insight risk producing shallow disciples. Real growth still demands what it always has: patience, repetition, failure, and grace.

If you’ve ever used an AI tool to diagnose an illness, write an email, or choose a movie, you’ve probably noticed how confidently it delivers an answer. The medical, the metrics, the models make you feel like you’re choosing the best possible decision. It’s comforting. Efficient. Safe.

But wisdom doesn’t live in the land of perfect data. Wisdom resides in the spaces in between clarity and certainty. The more we rely on AI to decide for us, the more we risk losing something vital: our moral and spiritual agency. Good decisions are not just about accuracy; they are about discernment. AI can help you find a answer, but it cannot help you make it.

Nineteenth-century philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote, “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” Authentic decision making lives in the tension between limited understanding and faithful action. We choose to follow the way of Jesus and allow the Holy Spirit to guide us through uncertainty.

Leaders who follow Christ must model that courage. We “follow Christ” as Paul contends. We can let AI inform us, but not form us. The best decisions in life and ministry will always require more than data. They require faith, humility, and a heart that listens before it calculates.

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But what happens when we let machines choose for us? The same thing that happens when we let anyone else do our discerning. Our judgment muscles weaken. We lose the ability to weigh options, read situations, and recognize what is truly good. Outsourcing discernment makes us efficient but shallow. It saves time but costs wisdom.

True discernment is not about efficiency. It is about developing a spiritual and moral intuition, the kind that grows through prayer, community, and Scripture. Theologian John Henry Newman warned, “Knowledge is one thing, virtue is another.” Information alone cannot guide us. Wisdom must be shaped in us over time.

Leaders must model this. Machines may filter, but they cannot form. Discernment is a Spirit-shaped skill, an inner compass that helps us make good choices when no algorithm can.

But here’s the catch: if we let AI do the heavy lifting for us, we risk outsourcing the very muscles of thought we need most. What starts as a helpful prompt can become a crutch. Leaders and ministers must guard against this temptation. Critical thinking, after all, is not just about reaching conclusions. It is about the process of wrestling with truth.

John Stuart Mill warned long ago, “He who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that.” (On Liberty, 1859). AI can widen our exposure, but it cannot guarantee depth. Only disciplined thinkers, people committed to testing ideas against Scripture, history, and reason, can lead wisely in this moment.

AI may be clever, but discernment requires more than cleverness. It requires courage, patience, and, most importantly, the Spirit’s guidance.

Just as you allocate funds for essentials, luxuries, and savings, you must intentionally spend your time on what matters: relationships, growth, and purpose. Investing time in meaningful activities brings lasting returns, while wasting it leaves you with little to show. Saving time—by eliminating distractions and streamlining tasks—creates margin for unexpected opportunities. Prioritize wisely, for time is the only currency you can never earn back. Budget your days with purpose, and you’ll build a life of lasting value and eternal impact.

Profound truths, when truly understood, are simple—not because they lack depth, but because they have been distilled through insight.

Complexity is often mistaken for intelligence because it is hard to grasp, but difficulty does not equate to wisdom. True intelligence lies in understanding, and understanding brings clarity. Complexity may conceal ignorance or insecurity, while simplicity reveals mastery.

As Leonardo da Vinci once said, “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” The deepest ideas—grace, love, justice—are simple in form but rich in meaning, revealing the height of true insight.

As Romans 12:1 urges, “offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.”

Trials, though difficult, serve a greater purpose when entrusted to Him. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28, NIV). Suffering for the sake of suffering is a waste; awesome sacrifice is not wasted—it becomes testimony, transformation, and praise. All is for His glory, and in Him, no hardship you endure is in vain.

We all have psychological blind spots—those subtle cognitive limitations and hidden biases that shape our perception, judgment, and decision-making, often without us even realizing it. These blind spots typically show up as cognitive biases, implicit biases, and perceptual blind spots, each impacting our interactions and choices in significant ways. Recognizing these blind spots isn’t just intellectually important—it’s crucial for personal growth and effective leadership.

Cognitive biases are essentially the shortcuts our minds take to process complex information. They’re systematic deviations from rational thinking, designed to simplify decision-making but often leading us astray. Consider confirmation bias, for example; it’s when we gravitate toward information that supports our existing beliefs and ignore anything contradictory (Rossmo, 2008). This bias can trap us in echo chambers, limiting our ability to think objectively or creatively (Schoemaker, 2022). Another familiar example is the self-serving bias—where we readily take credit for successes but quickly blame external circumstances for our failures. This skewed perspective can seriously hinder personal growth because it shields us from recognizing and learning from our own mistakes (Swart et al., 2023).

Implicit biases are equally influential, though they operate beneath our conscious awareness. These biases are deeply rooted in societal norms, cultural upbringing, and personal experiences, often influencing our judgments without us ever noticing. For instance, a hiring manager might unintentionally favor applicants from familiar demographic groups due to implicit biases, inadvertently contributing to discriminatory hiring practices (Bubbio et al., 2019). There’s ongoing debate about moral responsibility here: Should we hold people accountable for biases they aren’t even aware they possess? While some argue that implicit biases fall outside conscious control, others emphasize our responsibility to actively identify and counteract these biases, especially in leadership or decision-making roles (Bubbio et al., 2019).

Should we hold people accountable for biases they aren’t even aware they possess?

Perceptual blind spots are slightly different—they highlight the limitations of our ability to accurately perceive and interpret information. Cognitive overload, for example, can make it difficult for us to process every piece of information, leading us to selectively pay attention and sometimes misinterpret situations (Nickerson, 2020). Belief perseverance is a related phenomenon, where initial impressions stubbornly persist, even when contradicted by clear evidence (Rossmo, 2008). Moreover, we often demonstrate what’s known as the bias blind spot, easily recognizing biases in others but remaining blind to our own. This dynamic can create misunderstandings and conflicts since we genuinely believe we’re objective, even when evidence suggests otherwise (Vazire et al., 2012).

This dynamic can create misunderstandings and conflicts since we genuinely believe we’re objective, even when evidence suggests otherwise.

Addressing these blind spots requires intentional effort. Embracing diverse perspectives can challenge our biases and expand our understanding (Swart et al., 2023). Educating ourselves on the nature and impacts of biases increases self-awareness and diminishes the blind spots we hold about our own biases (Vazire et al., 2012). Practices like mindfulness and structured decision-making techniques also help identify and mitigate the influence of unconscious biases (Schoemaker, 2022).

Ultimately, psychological blind spots significantly shape our lives, influencing everything from casual interactions to critical decisions. By actively exploring and addressing these blind spots, we not only make better decisions but also foster more equitable and meaningful interactions with others.

Greetings from Brussels!

We’re excited to share some incredible updates from our ministry at Continental Theological Seminary. This semester has been amazing, welcoming more students from around the world. They’re preparing for ministry in diverse contexts, and it’s been a privilege to invest in their theological training and spiritual formation.

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One of the biggest areas of growth has been in developing a more sustainable curriculum that reaches beyond the traditional classroom. With six extension sites across the continent, we’re seeing God open doors for students who otherwise wouldn’t have access to this kind of biblical training. It’s been inspiring to hear their stories and witness their passion for serving Christ.

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Our church plant in Brussels is also thriving, with many people coming to Christ. The hunger for God in this community is evident, and it’s been incredible to see lives transformed as we disciple new believers. Please pray for continued wisdom and strength as we build this community of faith.

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Bria has been actively leading three worship teams, helping students grow in their gifts as they lead worship for Spiritual Emphasis Week, special events, and concerts. She loves mentoring these students and watching them flourish in their callings. In her role as school nurse, she’s also been a source of support for many who are away from home for the first time, offering both practical care and encouragement.

Our kids are thriving in their own ways. Adelé is continuing to enjoy her high school years, while Oliver stays busy with basketball and jiu-jitsu, building great friendships along the way. Owen is growing quickly and doing well in school, and Madeline—fearless as ever—continues to make friends everywhere she goes and practices jiu-jitsu with Oliver. Our newest family member, Noodle the cat, has been keeping us all entertained with his antics!

As always, we are deeply grateful for your prayers and support. Your partnership in this ministry means the world to us, and we couldn’t do this without you.

With love,,

Brent, Bria, Adelé, Oliver, Owen, and Madeline (and Noodle)

Everybody wants to talk, but few take the time to listen. Our human nature pushes us to speak—to share our thoughts and opinions. Yet, when we fail to listen, we miss out on understanding the world and those around us.

Edgar H. Schein, in his book “Humble Inquiry,” highlights the power of listening. He explains that real learning and connection come from being curious and genuinely listening to others. When we practice humble inquiry, we set aside our need to speak and instead focus on asking questions that foster trust and understanding.

Talking may fill the silence, but listening fills the soul. So, how often do you really listen? If you want to truly know others, you must first be willing to hear them. What could change in your relationships and understanding if you practiced the art of listening more?

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Leadership is the art of moving people from where they are to where they desire to go. It is not an exercise of authority but service. To guide the way, leaders must become scout, cartographer, soldier, medic, cook, and priest. The leader explores, plans, fights, supports, heals, feeds, and nurtures those they intend to lead. A true leader finds a way to help others move forward.

Two great trials confront the leader. Determining the destination is not one of these. Neither is charting the course toward the destination. These things become clear with honesty and strategy. The two great trials of leadership are manifest in the leader and those they intend to lead.

We are the greatest obstacle that stand between us and our goals. Stubbornness, presumptions, and pride keep us from making the journey forward. Followers resist breaking out of bad habits, venturing into unknown territory, or risking what has been for what may be. Leaders resist humbling themselves to serve others. They resent the stubbornness, deafness, and rejection of their intended followers.

The great trials of leadership exist in a symbiosis of resistance: an unwilling to give or receive.

However, the great promise of leadership is the confident humility that comes from serving others well. When you find yourself willing and able to love those who resist you, you have discovered a virtue that reflects the very nature of Christ. Call it leadership, call it love; Christ set the example for us all when God so loved the world. The two greatest successes of leadership are the ability to humble yourself and to serve others. Above all, it is the recognition that you are more than a leader, you are a follower of the one who set an example for us all.

The are two types of failure. The first kind is terminal. It’s the type of failure that marks the end of a thing: over, done, and dead. It’s the type of failure which causes the story to end and the credits to roll. This is the wrong kind of failure, especially when you are pursuing the right kind of goal. The second type of failure is initial failure; it marks the beginning of a thing. This type failure spawns the inspiration, the goal, and the ambition to try again.

Initial failure is Edison’s carbonized cotton thread. The first of 10,000 failures that preceded the invention of the light bulb. Initial failure is Walt’s Laugh-O-Gram Studios which went bankrupt before he founded Disney. Initial failure is Spielberg’s rejection letter from USC’s School of Cinematic Arts not once, but twice before producing some of the most iconic films in the history of cinema. Initial failure marks the beginning of a journey that is so much sweeter because it is a story of an overcomer.

Disco inferno is a latin phrase which roughly means, learning through hell. It is a description of the suffering which so often precedes understanding. Failure always produces suffering; it always feels like hell. It is wrought with disappointment, self-doubt, and anger. However, you get to choose what type failure becomes.

When you embrace failure and make it your own, you create the opportunity to overcome. Failure can be a great motivator when you see it as the beginning of your story instead of the end. Interpret your own experiences with a wider lens and see that there is much more to come. Your failure is not the terminalis of your journey, instead it is the initialis. Don’t give in to the negative feelings that failure can bring. Instead, understand the important roll that failure can play as the inspiration to win.

Remember this: your story doesn’t end with you getting knocked down, it begins with you getting up. Embrace the right kind of failure and you will succeed.

There comes a moment in every person’s life when God changes the plan. Sometimes, it’s a sudden promotion or an unexpected job opportunity. Other times, it’s a setback or obstacle that stands between us and our goals. I’ve experienced both. My family has been radically blessed and radically challenged in our journey of following Jesus. It seems the bigger my plans, the more I encounter God's diverting authority over my life.

Over the past several years, my family has followed God’s lead repeatedly. We felt called to sell everything, leave our home, and serve a community of ministry students overseas. A mission like this brings many dangers, toils, and snares, so I worked hard to prepare for all contingencies. I researched, planned, and preempted every possible scenario, outcome, and emergency. The only problem? My imagination couldn’t begin to anticipate the challenges that awaited us.

My wife and four children were counting on me to provide for them, but I quickly learned I couldn’t do that in the ways I had hoped. Following God meant leaving our private school earlier than planned, moving out of our home months ahead of schedule, and saying difficult goodbyes to friends. Yet, through it all, He provided for us, opened doors we didn’t expect, and cleared the rough paths ahead. Even so, our family was shaken—our relationships, finances, and identities were all tested.

After four years of living this way, I’ve begun to understand something on a deeper level: I’m not asking God to help me accomplish my plans. Instead, God is asking me to accomplish His plans for my life. And while His plans are always good, they can also be hard.

Proverbs 16:9 reminds us: “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

It’s easy to walk forward when you know exactly where you’re going. But when doors close unexpectedly, when prayers seem unanswered, and when carrying your cross begins to hurt, it becomes much harder to take the next step. Yet, there is hope.

I’m learning that God’s plans are far richer, greater, and more fulfilling than my own. His timing is perfect, and He closes doors for a reason. I’m discovering that God provides abundantly and loves my children more than I ever could. Ultimately, I’m learning that my best life is one where I follow Him—rather than trying to lead Him where I want to go.

To anyone who feels like their plans are falling apart, let me offer this encouragement: maybe it’s time to persist, or perhaps it’s time to surrender your plans to Jesus. He is the author and perfecter of your faith, and His steps for your life are far more meaningful than your own. Have the courage to follow, the fortitude to persevere, and the understanding that your greatest significance lies in obedience.

We often preach the gospel to Christians. This is an understandable as most Sunday gatherings include an invitation to Christ. The unintended consequence of “preaching to the choir” is that we begin to take shortcuts in our communicating with the unchurched. These shortcuts, or assumptions, include important ideas about sin and forgiveness. If we are not careful, we can deliver the good news without all of the facts.

I once heard a call to salvation that sounded like this, “If you are in need of a savior today, I want you to raise your hand and accept the cleansing blood of Jesus over your life.” That’s good stuff unless you have no idea what savior, cleansing blood, or Jesus is referring to.

When you preach, know who you are speaking to. Use creative deduction and know what they don’t know. Identify your audience as you prepare your message and offer something to everyone in the room. What terms need to be explained? What concepts need illustration? And what biblical truths should be unpacked? Your sermon should explain the scriptures in a way that is helpful for new and experienced Christians alike. Never tire of teaching the basics. Terms like sin, sacrifice, and salvation can become common place but they may never become common. The gospel is for the unchurched and we need to make sure that everyone has a chance to understand what the good news really is.

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My family left our home and moved to Belgium nearly two years ago. This experience has challenged us to grow and learn in many unexpected ways. I thought I understood what leadership was all about; until I was asked to lead abroad. I am having to rediscover leadership in a new place and in a new way. Leading abroad is about a leading in a new and greater way. I have been challenged to embrace a humble confidence that realizes true success is simply the willingness to obey.