The Church is Failing
The Church is Failing
The Church Isn’t Supposed to Play It Safe
If we need to legislate our values, we’ve already lost the war.
That’s where I want to start.
The Bible calls the Church the bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:25–27). That’s not just a beautiful metaphor, that means we’re supposed to reflect Jesus. His priorities. His courage. His character. His mission. And right now? I don’t think the Capital C Church, the Church as a whole, is doing that.
We’ve gotten soft.
We’ve gotten comfortable building big stages, putting on conferences, releasing worship albums, and curating Instagram-worthy moments, and hear me: there’s nothing wrong with any of that. I’m going to a conference in a few months. Worship music is pretty much all I listen to. And yes, worship matters. God calls us to worship Him (Psalm 95:1–2, Romans 12:1). But we are avoiding anything that might offend someone, and we’ve stopped doing the very thing we were called to do: lead.
He also calls us to more.
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
— Matthew 25:35–36
That’s not a suggestion. That’s the job description.
James puts it even more clearly:
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…”
— James 1:27
And yet, somehow, we’ve become afraid of being bold. We’re more focused on not making the world mad than we are on making the world better.
But Jesus wasn’t soft.
He flipped tables (Matthew 21:12).
He called out religious leaders (Matthew 23).
He walked straight toward the sick, the forgotten, the messed up, and the hated (Luke 5:30–32).
He told the truth knowing it would get Him killed.
We follow that Jesus… and we’re scared of upsetting people?
We’ve made our churches more comfortable.
People Aren’t Going to the Church for Help Anymore — They’re Going to the Government
But in the process, we lost something.
We lost our edge.
We lost our urgency.
We lost our presence where it’s needed most.
And maybe the clearest proof of that?
People aren’t coming to the Church for help anymore.
You ever drive through a small town and see one of those old churches with a huge steeple towering over everything? They didn’t build it that tall just to be closer to heaven. It wasn’t a flex. It wasn’t just tradition. It was a signpost.
If someone in town was hurting…
If a traveler was passing through and didn’t know where to go…
They could look up, see the steeple, and know:
“Go there. You’re not alone. They’ll help.”
That’s what the Church was supposed to be.
A visible, obvious, reliable place for people in need.
But now?
The hungry don’t come to the Church.
The single mom doesn’t come to the Church.
The scared teenager, the overwhelmed dad, the family that’s barely making it, they’re not calling us.
They’re going to the government.
They’re going to TikTok.
They’re going to whoever will listen because they don’t believe we will.
And honestly… how are people supposed to know where to go?
I’m not saying every church needs to build a giant steeple again. We’ve got technology now. We’ve got phones. We’ve got websites. But are we even using them to be reachable?
Are there people in our churches during the week, not just on Sundays?
Is there a way for someone in crisis to reach out?
And if someone does reach out, do we pick up the phone?
And if we do pick up, do we actually help?
Or do we only serve the people already sitting in our pews?
Do we quietly judge the person calling? Assume they’re playing us? Decide they’re too messy?
“Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.”
— Proverbs 3:27
“Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?”
— James 2:15–16
Because by that point, it’s honestly just easier to go ask the government.
They’re doing the job we were supposed to do, at a way higher cost and with way less heart.
And yeah, they’re bad at it. They don’t provide healing. They don’t offer hope.
Just meals for another month or a case number to call back.
But they’re there.
And more often than not… we’re not.
We weren’t just called to sing about hope.
We were called to be it.
And that should wreck us.
If We Have to Legislate Our Values, We’ve Already Lost the War
There’s a lot of talk these days about how to make our country more “Christian.”
We argue about abortion.
We push for faith-based policies.
We talk about putting prayer back in schools or the Ten Commandments back in courthouses.
And look, I believe in these values.
I care about truth.
But if we think passing laws is going to make people act more like Jesus, we’so far off of the mark.
The government wasn’t meant to carry out the Great Commission.
We were.
When the Church stops holding the line on morality, the world looks to the government to draw it, then we’re not actually winning anything.
We’re outsourcing our calling.
Let’s be honest: the only reason we’re even trying to legislate so many of these values is because we’ve failed to live them out. We haven’t fed the hungry. We haven’t welcomed the stranger. We haven’t built systems of care and compassion and community.
So the government steps in, again, to do a job we were supposed to be doing all along.
And yeah, they’re not great at it.
They weren’t meant to be.
That job was given to the body of Christ, and we’ve been too busy protecting our image to get our hands dirty.
We don’t need more “Christian” laws.
We need more Christians living like Jesus.
We Don’t Need More Worship Nights. We Need More Battle Plans.
I love worship nights. I really do.
There’s something powerful about a room full of people singing Jesus, about the way a great worship set can make you feel close to Jesus. I’ve felt that closeness. I’ve needed that closeness. It’s a gift.
But let’s be honest:
That feeling is a luxury.
You can’t feel that same closeness to God when your stomach’s empty.
When you don’t know where you’re sleeping tonight.
When you’re stuck in a situation that’s crushing you, and no one will listen long enough to help.
Worship nights are great, but they’re not a strategy. They’re not a solution. And if we think we’re changing the world just by dimming the lights and singing louder, we’ve missed the assignment.
“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”
— 1 John 3:18
The Church doesn’t need more moments of escape.
We need moments of engagement.
We need people ready to show up, step in, and carry someone else’s burden even when it’s uncomfortable.
Jesus didn’t call us to just gather. He called us to go (Matthew 28:19).
He didn’t play it safe. He didn’t avoid conflict.
He flipped tables in the temple when people exploited the poor (Matthew 21:12–13).
He confronted hypocrisy face-to-face (Matthew 23).
He sat with people everyone else avoided — the sick, the sinners, the messy, the untouchable (Luke 5:30–32).
His love disrupted everything.
And we’re afraid of making people uncomfortable?
We cannot care more about being liked than we do about being effective.
Yes — we will upset people.
Yes — it might make our own people squirm.
But comfort has never been the goal of the Gospel. Transformation is.
And transformation is rarely comfortable.
We Were Made to Lead — Not Just to Last
The Church wasn’t built to blend in.
We were built to lead.
We should be the most hopeful, most generous, most courageous, and most creative force on the planet, not just a quiet presence, but a transforming one. A city on a hill. A movement that changes everything it touches.
“The gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”
— Matthew 16:18
But let’s be honest, if our goal is just to make the Church last, we’re so far off track.
Trying to keep the Church alive with branding and programming and crowd-pleasing strategy is crazy.
We’re not the ones who make it last.
God does.
He promised that the Church would endure, not because of us, but in spite of us.
“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.”
— Psalm 127:1
Our job isn’t to protect the Church.
Our job is to be the Church.
We win souls, millions of them, when we actually do what God asked us to do.
When we preach the Gospel.
When we go to the places that make us uncomfortable.
When we step out of our safe suburban bubbles and into the pain people are actually living in.
But maybe… that’s not who we want to bring into our churches.
Maybe that’s the real problem.
We want growth — but only if it looks like us.
We want change — but only if it doesn’t require us to change.
We want revival — as long as it’s neat, clean, and in our service schedule, not to inconvenience us too much.
We’ve got to get over ourselves.
We’ve got to stop trying to impress the world and start trying to reach it.
That’s how we lead. That’s how we grow. That’s how the Church moves again.
Because Jesus didn’t die because He was surviving.
He died because He was leading.
Jesus didn’t die so we could survive.
He died so we could lead.
So How Do We Change?
Look — I’m not a pastor. I’m not on staff at a church.
But I’ve been going to church for 24 years. I’ve been to a lot of them. Big ones. Small ones. Flashy ones. Quiet ones. And I’ve spent a lot of time reading Scripture, especially lately.
And the more I read it… the more I’m convinced we’re missing the point.
We’ve made church about preference instead of obedience.
We’ve gotten busy building experiences while neglecting the assignment.
Jesus already gave us our job description.
It’s not complicated. It’s right there in Matthew 25:
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat,
I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,
I was a stranger and you invited me in,
I needed clothes and you clothed me,
I was sick and you looked after me,
I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
— Matthew 25:35–36
That’s it.
That’s the list.
Feed people.
Welcome people.
Clothe people.
Care for people.
Visit people.
Love people.
That’s how we change.
Not with louder sermons or flashier stages.
Not by chasing feelings or followers.
But by doing the things Jesus told us to do, over and over again, no matter how inconvenient or uncomfortable.
So no, I’m not a church leader. But I know this much:
If we’d get serious about Matthew 25,
if we’d trade comfort for calling,
if we’d stop trying to survive and start trying to serve, the world would look different.
And maybe, just maybe, they’d come back to the Church. Not because we finally got the branding right,
but because we finally got the heart right.
Why I Write
I’m writing these posts because I need a place to think — really think — about what’s happening in our country, our state, and our communities. I’ve always cared deeply about public service, about leadership, and about the future of the place I love. But caring isn’t enough. If I want to lead one day, I need to understand what I believe, why I believe it, and how those beliefs should shape the way I show up.
This corner of my website isn’t polished or promoted. It’s not where I’m trying to impress anyone. It’s simply a space for me to get my ideas out of my head and onto paper — a place to wrestle with frustrations, ask hard questions, and be honest about what’s going on in the world around me.
And just so it’s clear: I reserve the right to be wrong.
Not because I’m unsure of what I believe today, but because I’m 24, still growing, and still learning. I might change my mind. I might rethink things. I might see something differently down the road. That’s not weakness, it’s growth. You’re allowed to disagree with me, and I’m allowed to learn as I go.
I know that one day I want to run for office. That means I need a record of my values, my convictions, and the lessons I’m learning as I watch, listen, and pay attention. These posts are my way of preparing, sharpening, and growing, not to score points, but to become the kind of person who can serve with clarity, humility, courage, and integrity.
This isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about starting the work now, thinking deeply, learning constantly, and building the ideas I’ll need for the future.
If you stumbled across this page, I hope you find something worth thinking about. But mainly, this exists so I can keep doing the work:
to observe, reflect, adjust, and speak up — not just someday, but today.