Pastor Brandon

12/29/2025

12/28/2025

“Bible-based.”

On the surface, that sounds like the safest phrase in American Christianity. Warm. Reassuring. Like a spiritual gluten-free label.

But here’s the honest question we’re not allowed to ask out loud:

Has “Bible-based” quietly become code for a certain type of church?

For many people searching for a church today, that phrase no longer simply means rooted in Scripture. It signals something else entirely.

Rules first.
Boundaries before belonging.
Certainty over compassion.
Paul over Jesus.
Culture wars over the Sermon on the Mount.

Because if we’re being truly, unapologetically Bible-based, we need to admit something uncomfortable:

The Bible contains commands about fabric blends, dietary laws, ritual purity, Sabbath violations, and punishments most modern Christians quietly skip, soften, or explain away.

And no one wants to explain why we selectively enforce Leviticus while ignoring… well… most of Leviticus.

Which tells us something important:

Every church already filters the Bible.
The question is how—and through whom.

Jesus didn’t hand His followers a Bible to worship.
He handed them a lens to see Him through.

Jesus said:
“You have heard it said… but I tell you.”
Again. And again. And again.

Jesus didn’t downgrade Scripture.
He fulfilled it.
He clarified it.
He rescued it from being used as a weapon.

So yes—churches should be Bible-based.

But if they aren’t Jesus-based first, “Bible-based” becomes a badge of control instead of a pathway to transformation.

Because Scripture without Jesus at the center doesn’t produce love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, or self-control.

It produces gatekeepers.
Bible-based, whitewashed tombs.
The very kind Jesus warned about when He said, “I never knew you.”

So if you’re church-shopping and a church leads with “Bible-based” as its primary identity, don’t panic—but pay attention.

Ask the better question:
Is Jesus the interpretive center…
or just the mascot for a religion that looks very little like Him?

And sometimes the most “Bible-based” thing you can do is refuse a version of a "Christian" church that forgets Him.

12/27/2025

That tension you feel?
That ache between what Christianity looks like — and who Jesus actually is?

That’s not cynicism.
That’s discernment.

Institutions disappoint.
Leaders fail.
Movements drift.
Power corrupts.
Religion gets tangled up in politics and ego.

But Jesus didn’t come to build an institution.

He came to show humanity what God’s love actually looks like in real life — up close, compassionate, and disruptive in all the right ways.

Here’s the danger:
Letting frustration with Christianity slowly erase your awe for Christ Himself.

That’s like giving up on love because you’ve seen too many bad marriages.

Or swearing off music because you met a bad DJ.

Don’t do that.

Be honest about the mess.
Name the harm.
Call out the hypocrisy.
But don’t let broken religion convince you that Jesus is the same as His worst representatives.

He wasn’t chasing power.
He was showing what love looks like in real life.
He wasn't sent to condemn the world, but to save it. (John 3:17)

He’s still healing.
Still forgiving.
Still flipping tables.
Still moving toward the people that the Church often walks away from.

He loves you.
And He's still worth your awe.

12/26/2025

If you like to talk to tomatoes... 🍅

12/26/2025

Jesus taught us to pray,
“On earth as it is in heaven.”
(Matthew 6:10)

That wasn’t poetry.
It was an assignment.

Because if Heaven is the standard, then some things become painfully clear.

There’s no hunger in Heaven.
(“They will never hunger again…” – Revelation 7:16)

No sickness.
(“There will be no more pain.” – Revelation 21:4)

No disposable people.
No outsiders.
No ethnic hierarchy.
(“Every nation, tribe, people, and language.” – Revelation 7:9)

No moral caste system.
No “us vs. them.”
No division.

Just love. Belonging.
Unity. Grace.
And a whole lot of redeemed sinners standing shoulder to shoulder. (Ephesians 2:8–9)

So when Christians pray that prayer —
while defending movements and ideologies that keep people hungry, discarded, excluded, or dehumanized...

They’re not being faithful.
They’re being performative.
“These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” - Jesus (Matthew 15:8)

Jesus didn’t teach us to pray this so we could sound spiritual while staying comfortable.

He taught it because God’s will done in Heaven is the very thing He told us to pursue on Earth.

That’s why Jesus fed the hungry.
Healed the sick.
Touched the outcast.
Welcomed the foreigner.
And said whatever we do for “the least of these,” we do for Him. (Matthew 25:35–40)

If God’s will is done perfectly in Heaven,
then anything that contradicts that reality on Earth is something followers of Jesus are called to confront.

Not someday.
Now.

The uncomfortable truth is this:
If we actually meant that prayer,
our priorities would look very different.

And yes, our politics would look very different.

And maybe the problem isn’t that Heaven is unclear.

It’s that some Christians don’t really want Earth to resemble it.

12/24/2025

When Jesus entered the world, He didn’t start where people expected Him to.

He didn’t go to Rome.
He didn’t go to religious leadership.
He didn’t go to the most visible, respected, or “put-together” people in the room.

He went to shepherds.

Not the sentimental nativity kind—the real ones.

Those pushed to the margins.
Often viewed as unclean.
Not exactly the trusted voices of their day.

People others wouldn’t trust with anything important.

And yet God trusted them with the first announcement of Jesus—the Son of God.

The angel called it “good news of great joy for all people.” (Luke 2:10)

And before the self-righteous could argue about who “all” included, God chose the kind of people society already excludes.

Later, there were wise men—educated, resourced, influential travelers from the East.

But they didn’t arrive first.
And they didn’t rule anything.

They followed a star.
More mystics than monarchs.
Observers of the heavens.
Seekers of meaning, not holders of power.

And notice—
Jesus didn’t begin with the most religious people either.

Not because religion is bad,
but because certainty can close you off.

When you’re already convinced you know exactly how God works, you’re less likely to recognize Him when He shows up looking different than expected.

From the very beginning, Jesus’ arrival made something clear without saying a word:

This wasn’t about proximity to power.
It wasn’t about appearances.
It wasn’t about who looks righteous or checks the right boxes.

It was about openness.

That detail matters—especially now.
We still confuse visibility with credibility.
Influence with maturity.
Certainty with truth.

We’re tempted to trust the people who look or declare themselves the most religious, even when their grip on control is tighter than their grip on love, compassion and mercy.

The Christmas story quietly dismantles that assumption.

God didn’t bypass the powerful because they were automatically evil.

He bypassed them because power has a way of tightening our grip — on control, certainty, and dominance — until our hands are too full to receive God.

If the shepherds weren’t disqualified, neither are you.

And maybe the very things you assume make you unworthy — your need, your weakness, your doubt, your lack of polish — are the things that keep your hands open.

If the Christmas story makes anything clear, it’s this:

God didn’t announce Jesus to people who looked impressive.

He announced Him to people who were awake enough to receive Him.

Merry Christmas, friends.
Much love to you all.

12/23/2025

Somewhere along the way, we learned a lie:
That faith means having it together.
That honesty is weakness.
That the mess should stay hidden.

So we smile.
We say, “I’m good.”
We say, “It’s under control,” when it clearly isn’t.

But God already sees the fracture.
The doubt.
The fear.
The parts we’re working so hard to conceal.

Pretending doesn’t impress Him.
It just delays healing.

Church doors say “Come as you are.”

But too often what they mean is,
“Come as you are…
once you clean yourself up.”

Which is strange—
because church was never meant to be a showroom for saints.

It was meant to be a hospital for the broken.

The Bible itself is full of people who didn’t fit the religious costume.

Prophets who dressed strangely.
Voices that made polite religion uncomfortable.

Faith that looked nothing like the approved version of "holy."

I once had someone grab my tattooed arm and say, “We all make mistakes before we accept Jesus.”

I accepted Jesus at 11.
The tattoos came decades later.
But the judgment came instantly.

That moment revealed something important:

Christianity was never about "looking like a Christian."

It is about following Jesus.

So here’s the real question:
Why do we keep pretending for people who are pretending right back?

And why do we demand perfection from others when grace is the very thing that saves us?

Because if church can’t handle honesty, it’s not protecting holiness.

It’s protecting appearances.

And appearances don’t heal anyone.

12/23/2025

12/22/2025

Historically, “conserving” has meant preserving the status quo—
power, privilege, and systems that work well for those already on top.

That’s precisely what the prophets refused to do.

That’s why they weren’t applauded.
They were ignored, exiled, and often killed.

And Jesus didn’t break that pattern.
He fulfilled it.

When faith starts protecting power instead of challenging it,
we’re no longer following the prophets—
we’re repeating the reasons they were sent in the first place.

Prophetic faith doesn’t conserve comfort. It confronts injustice.

12/21/2025

Jesus wasn’t talking to atheists.
He was talking to religious leaders.

People fluent in Scripture.
Confident in their righteousness.
Certain they were defending God—while missing Him entirely.

“You hypocrites,” Jesus said.
Not because they lacked belief,
but because their hearts were far from God.

So Jesus quoted the prophet Isaiah and applied it directly to them.

They honored God with their words
while replacing His commands with human rules.

They mastered religious language
while abandoning love, mercy, and justice.

This is what Jesus confronts—consistently.

Not sinners searching for God,
but religious systems that use God to justify control.

Jesus never measured faith by volume, symbols, or slogans.

He measured it by fruit.

Love your neighbor — Matthew 22:39
Care for the least of these — Matthew 25:40
Choose mercy over sacrifice — Matthew 9:13
Humility over domination — Matthew 20:25–26

If our faith produces fear instead of love…
If it demands loyalty before compassion…
If it replaces the teachings of Jesus
with rules built around power and exclusion—

Jesus already named that.
Hypocrisy.

This isn’t about a Christian nation.
It’s about Christlike people.

And Christlikeness doesn’t start with words.
It starts with hearts.
And it’s proven by fruit.

12/20/2025

Leadership always reveals its loyalties.

For those entrusted with pulpits,
are we pointing people to Jesus —
or to whatever keeps the room full?