Tag: faith

Learning the Unforced Rhythms of Grace

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

In a world that praises hustle and rewards burnout, Jesus offers something profoundly countercultural: rest. Not the kind of rest you squeeze in between meetings or tack onto the end of an overbooked week, but real rest—the kind that restores the soul, quiets the mind, and invites us back into wholeness.

In Matthew 11:28–30 (The Message), Jesus extends an invitation: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me… Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.”

These words, so aptly paraphrased by Eugene Peterson, feel less like a command and more like a gentle hand on the shoulder, drawing us toward something better than exhaustion: grace.

Learning to Rest Is a Strength, Not a Weakness

In her book Invitation to Silence and Solitude, Ruth Haley Barton writes, “Because we do not rest, we lose our way… Poisoned by the hypnotic belief that good things come only through unceasing determination and tireless effort, we can never truly rest.”

It’s easy to assume that if we stop, we’ll fall behind. But Jesus flips the script—he teaches that rest is not an interruption to spiritual formation; it is spiritual formation. It’s how we learn to hear his voice above the noise.

A Gentle Yoke in a Demanding World

Jesus invites us to “take his yoke”—a farming tool once used to link animals for shared work. But his yoke isn’t burdensome. It’s custom-fit, gentle, and shared. We don’t pull alone. We’re yoked with Christ, walking in step with his grace.

Years ago, I met a retired pastor who had served faithfully for five decades. When I asked him his secret to longevity, he said simply, “I finally learned to walk at God’s pace.” That’s what Jesus means by unforced rhythms—it’s grace that moves in time with heaven, not the chaos of the calendar.

Grace for the Weary and Wounded

In times of loss, confusion, or fatigue, grace meets us quietly and consistently. It is:

  • An antidote for anxiety
  • A remedy for restlessness
  • Decompression for depression
  • Antivenom for sin

Grace is what saves us when we can’t save ourselves. It guides when we’re lost, comforts when we’re hurting, and encourages when the odds are stacked against us. It even carries us when we don’t know the way forward.

How Do We Learn These Rhythms?

  • Come to Jesus—not just once, but daily
  • Take his yoke—release the burdens you were never meant to carry alone
  • Learn from him—observe his gentleness, humility, and wisdom
  • Rest in him—receive the peace that only grace can give

This isn’t just self-care. It’s soul care. It’s a way of life Jesus modeled—and a way of life he still invites us to follow.

John Mark Comer reminds us, “Transformation is possible if we are willing to arrange our lives around the practices, rhythms, and truths that Jesus himself did, which will open our lives to God’s power to change.”

So today, let grace interrupt your hurry.
Let grace reframe your expectations.
Let grace teach you how to breathe again.

Because in Christ, we’re not called to hustle harder—we’re called to finish the race at the speed of grace.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

(This post is a summary of a sermon I shared in 2023.)

“A Sweet Friendship Refreshes the Soul”

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

“Just as lotions and fragrance give sensual delight, a sweet friendship refreshes the soul.”
Proverbs 27:9, The Message

There’s nothing quite like a true friend. Not just an acquaintance, not just a name in your contacts list—but someone who lifts your spirits, listens without judgment, and lingers beside you in both celebration and sorrow. According to Proverbs 27:9, that kind of friendship is like a soothing balm—something that restores, heals, and renews the soul.

In a time when loneliness is called a public health crisis, the simple beauty of soul-refreshing friendship becomes even more vital. It’s not flashy. It’s not trending. But it’s life-saving.

C. Raymond Beran described a friend this way: “A friend is someone with whom you dare to be yourself. Your soul can be naked with them. They ask you to put on nothing—only to be what you are.” With them, you can laugh without caution, cry without shame, and speak without filters. You can sit in silence or spill your story. With a true friend, you are not edited, evaluated, or erased. You are simply embraced.

History offers us luminous models of such relationships. When C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien met at Oxford, they bonded over stories, ideas, and faith. Over the years, their friendship sharpened their creativity and deepened their convictions. Lewis once wrote, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

We may not all write epic novels, but each of us needs that kind of sweet, soulful companionship.

How does this relate to our faith and our church? A church ought to be the kind of place where friendship blooms. The early Quakers captured this spirit when they called themselves “The Society of Friends.” Churches aren’t meant to be cold institutions, but communities where friendships in Christ sustain us through joy and heartache, growth and grief.

Yes, maintaining good friendships requires effort—patience, forgiveness, and grace. E.C. McKenzie once noted, “Some people make enemies instead of friends because it is less trouble.” But oh, what a loss. Because when you find that friend who refreshes your soul, you’ve found a rare and sacred gift.

Take time today to reflect about the friends who lighten your load and lift your spirit. Call them. Thank them. Pray for them. And if your soul is weary, open your heart to a new friend. You never know—God may use that sweet friendship to refresh your soul in ways you didn’t expect.

Walter Brueggemann Challenged My Assumptions and Deepened My Faith: Reflections from a Former Student

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

On June 5, 2025, the world lost one of its most provocative and prophetic theological voices. Walter Brueggemann, Old Testament scholar, preacher, teacher, and esteemed theologian, passed away at the age of 92. His death leaves a significant void in the landscape of biblical scholarship and the life of the Church, but his influence will resonate for generations to come.

My own journey with Brueggemann began in a seminary classroom—not at Columbia Seminary, but at the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary in a course on Preaching from the Psalms taught by Dr. Harold Bryson. One of the textbooks for the course was Israel’s Praise, Brueggemann’s exposition on the theological weight of worship. That course was the first of many times Walter would challenge my assumptions, stir my imagination, and deepen my faith.

A few years later in 1995, I ventured outside of the Baptist world and enrolled in the Doctor of Ministry program at Columbia Theological Seminary for one reason: I wanted to study with Brueggemann. I completed the program in 1998. Several other Baptist minister friends also pursued their postgraduate work at Columbia as well, including John Pierce, Elizabeth Thompson, Greg DeLoach, Ron Wilson, Courtney Krueger, and Don Gordon. Each of us was drawn to this doctoral program by the gravitational pull of Walter’s prophetic intellect.

My first class with Brueggemann was listed on the course description “Old Dangerous Texts for New Dangerous Times.” His lecture notes from this course became the foundation for his book, “Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy.”

Walter had a warm and humorous demeanor outside the classroom. Occasionally after class, my friend Ron Wilson and I, who Brueggemann fondly referred to as his little Baptist friends, would go to a local pub, grab a bite, and watch Braves baseball while unpacking the theological freight of the day’s lectures. Walter could be spotted at a baseball game now and then, and later would share stories and analogies that were conceived at the ballpark.

Years after my graduation, I invited Walter to lead a pastor’s workshop at First Baptist Church of Pensacola, where I was serving at the time. He was gracious and kind, not only in person but in follow-up. After the event, he sent me a brief yet meaningful note: “Thanks for the invitation. It was great to be in your shop.”

When I published my first book—a collection of call stories from a rich variety of pastors—Walter emailed me an endorsement, specifically emphasizing, “The recovery of a notion of call is urgent among us and your book should help that recovery along.” His words gave affirmation to my work and underscored his constant encouragement of emerging voices in ministry.

Walter had a great appreciation for our Baptist heritage. On one occasion in class, he remarked, “It’s good to have the Baptists here with us. None of us would be here if it were not for the Baptists. They were the freedom fighters who contended for religious freedom for all faith groups because they believed ‘if one of us loses our religious freedom, we all lose our religious freedom.’”

Even into his nineties, Walter remained intellectually vibrant, curious, and connected. In our last correspondence on his 91st birthday in 2024, he responded:  “Dear Barry: I am glad to hear from you and thanks for your kind words. I hope all is well for you. It’s good work to be a bridge builder. I just turned 91 and am hanging in and taking stock. With much appreciation, Walter.”

Though deeply academic, his writing was marked by poetic rhythm and prophetic urgency. His sermons and lectures could unsettle the comfortable and comfort the unsettled, sometimes in the same sentence.

Walter loved the scriptures and encouraged his students to “live in the tension of the text.” When addressing various questions about biblical criticism or historicity, he would often quip, “The text is what we have. Deal with it!” Whether he was teaching at Columbia Theological Seminary or speaking to a room full of pastors and leaders, Brueggemann courageously addressed the juxtaposition of scripture and culture head-on.

While I’m grateful for all of Walter’s writing—from his groundbreaking work on the prophets and Psalms to his cultural critique and homiletical insights—I’m especially thankful for his prayers. In Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth and Prayers of a Privileged People, his words become devotional guideposts, grounding us in faith while drawing us into action. One line from his prayer, “No More Sinking Sand,” seems especially fitting as we honor his life and witness:

          God of heavens, Lord of earth,
          hear our resolve, heal our unresolve,
          that we may finish in sure trust and in glad obedience.
          We already know what to do by our careful pondering of you. Amen.

Walter Brueggemann completed his journey in “sure trust” and “glad obedience.” Now it is up to us—those who studied with him, read him, or were influenced by his prophetic voice—to keep pondering, to continue proclaiming, and to work toward the kind of world Brueggemann’s theology dared us to imagine.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Preparing for a Fresh Wind of the Spirit: A Reflection for Pentecost

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Reggie McNeal, author of Missional Renaissance, proposes, “The Spirit is a work in the world, and it’s the job of the church to get on the same page as the Spirit, not the job of the Spirit to get on the same page as the church.”

As we navigate the chaos of a changing world, including fluctuating church metrics, shifting cultural norms, and contentious political allegiances, a fresh wind of the Spirit is blowing. Are you willing to risk raising your sails?

My earliest notions of the spirit world weren’t shaped by the Bible but by a mysterious little book titled Thirteen Alabama Ghosts and Jeffrey, a collection of Southern folklore by Kathryn Tucker Windham and Margaret Gillis Figh. Among the eerie tales was the story of Jeffrey, a mischievous spirit who took up residence in the Windham home in 1966. According to legend, Jeffrey would stomp down hallways, rock in empty chairs, startle the family cat, and move heavy furniture when no one was looking.

I was so captivated by the stories that I gave a fourth-grade book report on them in Mrs. Gibson’s class. Even now, when I pass through some of those quiet Alabama towns, I glance toward the courthouse windows, half-expecting to see a face staring back.

Growing up in the Bible Belt, it was only natural for a kid to conflate the “ghost in the courthouse” with the “Holy Ghost in the church house.” Visiting evangelists would shout from revival pulpits: “Have you received the Holy Ghost?” followed quickly by “Beware of quenching the Holy Ghost!”—as if this divine specter might invade your body or condemn your soul depending on your response.

Over the years, I’ve grown—both theologically and spiritually—in my understanding of the Holy Spirit. I still value my “Bapticostal” upbringing, but I’ve had to unlearn a few ghost stories along the way. I now prefer the term “Holy Spirit” over “Holy Ghost.” The former suggests holiness and intimacy. The latter, at least in childhood, sounded more like a spiritual haunting.

When I brush aside those folkloric impressions, I find that Scripture provides much-needed clarity. In John 14, as Jesus prepared for his departure, he told his disciples:

“I will not leave you as orphans. I will come to you” (John 14:18).

Though he would no longer be with them in the flesh, Jesus promised that his presence would remain with them in Spirit. He said,

“I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to help you and be with you forever—the Spirit of truth” (John 14:16–17).

I take comfort in knowing that even Jesus’ disciples didn’t fully understand at first. Like them, I’ve wrestled with anxiety over God’s nearness, especially in seasons of uncertainty. Jesus had been their mentor, their Rabbi. He had given them a new way to live—grounded in grace, not legalism. So when he spoke of leaving, their obvious question was: What happens now? Who will lead us?

That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in.

The Spirit is not some distant, disembodied force. The Spirit is God’s very presence among us—our comforter, guide, and encourager. As Paul writes,

“The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children” (Romans 8:16).

I now understand the Spirit not as a showy performer or a supernatural invader, but as the presence of God dwelling within human hearts. The same Spirit that hovered over the waters at creation now inhabits our daily lives, whispering truth, nudging us toward grace, and empowering us to live with simplicity and service.

When I invited Walter Brueggemann—my teacher and friend—to lead a workshop at our church, he once told me that the Spirit doesn’t put on exhibitions. “The Spirit prefers to work quietly,” he said, “always prompting people toward God and the Jesus-kind-of-life.” I’ve found that to be true.

Pentecost reminds us that God’s Spirit is a wind we cannot summon or control—but one we can respond to. As Luke puts it in Acts 2, the Spirit arrived like “a mighty rushing wind.” Living on the coast, I’m familiar with wind: it’s invisible, powerful, and unpredictable. We can’t manufacture it—but we can raise our sails.

And just as we cannot recreate the resurrection or re-enact the ascension, we cannot stage a Pentecost encore. God is not in the business of repeat performances. The Spirit is endlessly creative, constantly innovating, and persistently at work. Perhaps even now, the Spirit is initiating a new story within you.

In his book Thinking About God, Fisher Humphreys wrote:

“The Spirit brings life and vitality into the experience of the Christian and the church. He vivifies us. He makes Christian living dynamic as well as decent.”

Indeed, the Spirit’s work is to foster unity—not division; to inspire creativity—not suppress it; and to re-vision the future—not simply preserve the past.

So this Pentecost, I pray we become more aware of the Spirit’s movement—less haunted by our ghosts, more filled with God’s penchant for creativity, and more responsive to the Spirit prompting us toward unity.

Come, Holy Spirit.
Blow where you will.
Bridge the chasms of division.
Prepare us for a season of adventure.
We’re ready to raise our sails.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Where Is God When the Bad Stuff Happens?

On By barrysnotes1 Comment

Where is God when bad things happen?

Across the ages, this question has perplexed and haunted those weighed down by grief, suffering, and pain. Theologians and philosophers have wrestled with scripture and reason in search of understanding. Pastors and counselors still search for words that offer hope to hearts broken by tragedy.

The Bible doesn’t sugarcoat the harshness of life. In Psalm 13:1–2, the psalmist gives voice to what it feels like to be forsaken in moments of anguish:

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Chaos wears many faces. A hurricane flattens homes and lives. An earthquake strikes without warning. A disease creeps in uninvited. A drunk driver kills an innocent teenager. And every time, the question echoes again: Where is God in this?

Some respond with platitudes. But trite clichés often feel hollow—or even offensive—to those walking through the valley of sorrow. Answering this question too casually can seem dismissive. But ignoring it would leave too many stranded in silence.

So I won’t pretend to offer a one-size-fits-all answer. Instead, I’ll share what I’ve come to believe—hoping that even a flicker of light might help someone see more clearly in a dark place.

1. Life is not fair.

I used to believe that if I prayed, obeyed, and lived faithfully, God would shield me from life’s storms. But life doesn’t follow that formula. God is good, yes—but God never promised that life would be fair. Life is hard. And faith isn’t an escape hatch—it’s an anchor.

As beloved author Frederick Buechner suggested, “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”

Faith helps us face the beautiful and the terrible with courage.

2. Suffering does not discriminate.

No one is immune. Tornadoes don’t skip homes based on church attendance. Illness doesn’t scan for spiritual résumés. We live in a world still scarred by sin, and its consequences touch the just and the unjust alike. Faith doesn’t exempt us—it equips us.

3. God is present in the chaos.

God does not orchestrate suffering as punishment or test. God is not the author of chaos, but the Redeemer within it. The Holy Spirit—God’s presence—lives within us to comfort, convict, and guide. God also shows up through the Church—when we bring love, healing, and hope to others.

Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl observed, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

Faith doesn’t always change our circumstances—but it transforms our response.

4. God invites us to walk by faith, not by sight.

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why are some healed and others not? Why did Jesus raise Lazarus, but not everyone? Maybe those moments of healing are glimpses—previews—of what God will one day do fully and finally. Even Lazarus died again. Earthly healing is temporary. Eternal hope is permanent.

I still believe in prayer. I believe in hope, medicine, community, and grace. But there are no formulas—only an invitation to walk by faith with courage and perseverance.

5. God is at work, but not always in ways we can see or evaluate.

Romans 8:28 assures us, “In all things God works for the good of those who love him.”

God doesn’t cause all things—but God works within all things. Often, God works through us. We are Christ’s hands and feet in a hurting world. When we show up with compassion, we reflect the God who never leaves us.

So, where is God when the bad stuff happens?

God is present. Not with easy answers or magical fixes—but with sustaining grace, resilient hope, and a faithful presence that never lets go.

Especially in the seasons when I wrestle with the unknowns, I hold to the promise that God is here. And even the smallest glimpse of God’s presence encourages me to keep pressing on.

(Barry Howard is a retired minister who currently serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife reside on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

(This column is taken from a message I shared at FBC Pensacola after the community experienced multiple hurricanes, a catastrophic oil spill, and more than a few unexpected deaths.)

Memorial Day: 5 Reasons Why Remembering Is Important

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Memorial Day is more than a three-day weekend or the unofficial start of summer. It’s a sacred invitation to pause, reflect, and remember. In a culture that moves at the speed of a scrolling screen, practicing the discipline of remembering has become both countercultural and essential.

This day, set aside to honor those who have given their lives in service to our country, invites us into something deeper than nostalgia. It calls us to gratitude and beckons us to learn from the past.

When we fail to remember the sacrifices of those who came before us, we succumb to a convenient amnesia that gradually robs us of the freedoms we cherish. To fail to remember creates a contagious apathy that leads to a neglect of both our responsibility and our citizenship. To fail to remember can produce a false sense of security and an inaccurate perception that we are exempt from dictatorship and autocracy. If for no other reason, we should remember in order to guard against what George Washington called “the impostures of pretended patriotism.”

As we observe Memorial Day, here are five reflections about the importance of remembering:

  • Remembering is a sacred act. Throughout Scripture, God’s people are called to remember. “Remember the wonders He has done,” the psalmist writes (Psalm 105:5). Jesus, at the Last Supper, told his disciples, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Remembering anchors us. It shapes our identity. It gives context to our present and guidance for our future.

  • Remembering reminds us our freedom was not free. The liberties we enjoy come at a cost. Franklin D. Roosevelt cautioned, “Those who have long enjoyed such privileges as we enjoy forget in time that men have died to win them.”  Memorial Day reminds us that peace is preserved by those willing to risk—and sometimes give—their lives. Honoring the fallen should stir in us a sense of responsibility to live in a way that upholds the values they died defending.
  • Remembering evokes both grief and gratitude. For many, Memorial Day carries deep personal loss. It’s not just a day of flags and flowers—it’s a day when grief resurfaces. And yet, gratitude finds space there too. As one veteran said, “We don’t remember them because they died. We remember them because they lived.” Their stories of courage and selflessness inspire us to live with more purpose and compassion.
  • Remembering can shape us for the better. When we take the time to remember, we grow in empathy. We honor courage. We rediscover our shared humanity. And we are reminded that our freedom, our peace, and our way of life are built on the backs of those who stood in harm’s way for the sake of others. We are also inspired to protect and preserve freedom for those who come after us.
  • Remembering prompts us to pass the memories along to the next generation. Ronald Reagan cautioned, “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same.” Our children and grandchildren won’t understand the meaning of Memorial Day unless we tell the stories. Visit a veterans’ cemetery, attend a memorial service, or share the history of someone in your family or community who served. Let them see remembrance in action.

This Memorial Day, let us do more than enjoy a day off. Let us pause. Let us give thanks. Let us reflect on the cost of the liberties we enjoy. Let us teach our children the stories of valor and sacrifice. And let us recommit ourselves to building a world worthy of the lives that were given.

John F. Kennedy insisted, “As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”

Kennedy’s words seem even more relevant today. It’s not enough to say thank you—we must live in a way that honors the gift. Memorial Day challenges us to turn remembrance into action: by serving others, standing up for justice, and living with integrity.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who currently serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife reside on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Life Is Short: 7 Reasons to Receive Each Day As a Gift

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

The famous evangelist Billy Graham confessed, “The greatest surprise in life to me is the brevity of life.”

We’ve all heard the phrase, “Life is short.” It’s often said in passing—when we lose someone too soon, when a moment takes our breath away, or when we’re reminded how fast the years fly by. But what if we took that phrase to heart? What if we allowed it to shape the way we think, speak, love, serve, and live?

Here are seven reasons to live each day as a sacred and fleeting gift:

1. Time is a non-renewable resource.

Unlike money, time cannot be earned back or saved up. Every sunrise is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Each conversation, each quiet moment, each new opportunity is here now—and may never come again.

2. Today presents opportunities to grow.

Each day brings lessons, challenges, and opportunities for growth. We’re not the same people we were yesterday. Receive today as a gradual and progressive step forward in your becoming—a place where faith can deepen and character can stretch.

3. Lighten the load someone else is carrying.

When we live with compassion and kindness, we become part of someone else’s healing. A smile, a kind gesture, or an encouraging word may seem ordinary to you but can be life-giving to someone else. Phillips Brooks urged, “Be patient and understanding. Life is too short to be vengeful or malicious.”

4. Joy is often hidden in the present moment.

When we stop chasing “someday” and start noticing “today,” we discover beauty in the now. The warmth of coffee, the sound of laughter, the beauty of a landscape, the encouragement of a friend—these are the moments that quietly nourish the soul.

5. Gratitude changes our perspective.

When we live with the mindset that each day is a gift, we begin to see more gifts in our days. Gratitude doesn’t change our circumstances—it transforms our perspective. And that shift is powerful.

6. Regret is too heavy to lug around.

The weight of “I wish I had…” can be heavy. But when we live intentionally—speaking our hearts, showing up for others, and taking courageous steps—we reduce the space for regret and make room for peace.

7. Today is the only day you are promised.

Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. All we truly have is today—this moment, this breath, this chance. Don’t wait for all the stars to align in your favor to start living fully. Begin now.

Annie Dillard reminds us, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

Life is short—a sacred breath between dust and eternity. So love deeply, forgive freely, walk humbly, and live each day as a precious gift not to be wasted.

Let’s not just say life is short—let’s embrace today and live life to the fullest.

Come Monday: Finding Community in a Culture of Loneliness

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

“Come Monday, it’ll be all right/Come Monday, I’ll be holding you tight…” 

Those lyrics from Jimmy Buffett’s wistful ballad echo with a hope many of us carry. The song speaks of longing and loneliness, of waiting for that moment when things feel okay again—when presence replaces absence, and connection returns.

Believe it or not, Scripture echoes similar feelings. In Psalm 25:16, David writes,“Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.”

The mighty warrior and beloved leader knew what loneliness felt like. And he had the courage to say it out loud.

Mother Teresa insisted, “The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.”

In the spring of 2023, U.S. surgeon general Vivek Murthy placed a spotlight on America’s problem with loneliness when he declared the issue an epidemic.

In a recent Harvard study, 21% of those surveyed indicated they had serious feelings of loneliness.

Loneliness affects all ages. The Harvard study indicated widespread loneliness, especially among younger adults:

  • People between 30-44 years of age were the loneliest group — 29% of people in this age range said they were “frequently” or “always” lonely
  • Among 18–29-year-olds — the rate was 24%
  • For 45–64-year-olds, the rate was 20%
  • Adults aged 65 and older reported the lowest rate: 10% felt lonely

Loneliness Is Real—Even in a Crowded World

We live in a hyper-connected culture. Our phones buzz with messages, notifications, and endless content. But despite the noise, many people quietly struggle with a deep sense of disconnection.

You don’t have to be alone to feel lonely. It’s not about how many people are around you. It’s about whether anyone really sees you, knows you, or understands what you’re going through.

Loneliness can come in many forms: grief, life transitions, emotional exhaustion, or even just the slow drift away from relationships that once felt close. And it’s something that affects all ages, backgrounds, and life stages.

God Meets Us in Our Loneliness

When David cried out to God in Psalm 25, he wasn’t looking for a quick fix—he was seeking a Presence that could hold the weight of his heart.

“Relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish.” (v. 17)

In our loneliest moments, God doesn’t pull away. God draws near. The Bible reminds us again and again that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), that God is a refuge for the weary, and that God’s companionship is steady—even when human company isn’t.

And here’s the beautiful irony: naming our loneliness is often the first step toward overcoming it. David didn’t pretend. He openly sought God’s comfort and grace for his troubled spirit and his feelings of aloneness.

We Were Made for Connection

While God is with us in solitude, God also created us for community. From the very beginning, God said, “It is not good for man to be alone.” (Genesis 2:18)

That’s not just about marriage or friendship—it’s about belonging. And that’s what the Church is called to be: a place of welcome, honesty, and presence.

The early church wasn’t built on flashy programs or fancy buildings. It was built on people sharing life—breaking bread, praying, carrying one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). And that’s still the vision today.

So here’s the question: Are we building that kind of community in our churches, small groups, neighborhoods, and homes? Are we noticing the ones who might be quietly hurting?

Sometimes healing starts with a text. A coffee. A simple, “Hey, how are you—really?”

Serve Others. That’s a Great Place to Discover Community.

It might sound counterintuitive, but one of the most powerful ways to overcome loneliness is to look outward. When we serve others—when we step into someone else’s world—we often find healing for our own hearts.

Volunteering. Showing up for someone. Encouraging a neighbor. These small acts become lifelines, not just for them, but for us. They remind us that we’re still part of something bigger than ourselves.

In serving, we move from feeling invisible to feeling useful. We rediscover joy. And we start to experience what David prayed for—freedom from anguish, connection to something real, and hope for the days ahead.

“Come Monday, it’ll be all right,” Buffett sang. David, too, clung to hope in his song:

“My hope, Lord, is in you.” (Psalm 25:21)

Loneliness may visit, but it doesn’t have to stay. Community, companionships, and collegiality are blessings that have to be cultivated and nurtured.

Albert Einstein once said, “Although I am a typical loner in my daily life, my awareness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has prevented me from feelings of isolation.”

What if we could help others find that same invisible community—and make it visible?

We can’t solve loneliness overnight. But we can foster healthy connections. We can be a friend to others. We can ask for help when needed. We can build a spirit of community. And we can nurture and grow in our relationship with God.

(This is an updated version of a sermon presented at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola in 2007 during our spring series “Changes in Latitude.”)

“My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don’t Love Jesus”

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

One of Jimmy Buffett’s more unusual song titles has always struck me as confessional:“ My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Really Don’t Love Jesus.”

At first glance, that may feel jarring—even offensive. But sometimes, brutal honesty says what softer words can’t.

Long before moving to the coast of Florida, I loved the music of Jimmy Buffett. Though many of the lyrics are not Sunday morning pulpit material, I think Buffett may have given voice to something that a lot of people quietly feel: life is overwhelming, I’m exhausted, and if this is what religion is, I’m not buying it.

There’s a sobering passage in the Bible that feels strangely modern. It comes from Paul’s second letter to Timothy, chapter 3, verses 1–9 (The Message):

“Don’t be naive. There are difficult times ahead. As the end approaches, people are going to be self-absorbed, money-hungry, self-promoting, stuck-up, profane, contemptuous of parents, crude, coarse, dog-eat-dog, unbending, slanderers, impulsively wild, savage, cynical, treacherous, ruthless, bloated windbags, addicted to lust, and allergic to God. They’ll make a show of religion, but behind the scenes they’re animals. Stay clear of these people… They get exploited every time and never really learn… But nothing will come of these latest impostors. Everyone will see through them…”

Paul paints a picture of a society unraveling—where people are self-absorbed, cynical, addicted to chaos, and allergic to God. He warns of those who put on a show of religion but live like animals behind the curtain.

And then Paul says: “Stay clear of these people.”

Now that’s a hard line. But maybe it’s not about avoiding people in pain. Maybe it’s about being wise enough to walk away from shallow religion so we can offer something real.

Because here’s the truth: people are hurting. And they’re not looking for performance—they’re looking for peace.

When Your Head Hurts: Life Can Be Heavy

We live in an age of anxiety, distraction, and noise. People are overwhelmed—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Church clichés don’t help. Quoting verses out of context doesn’t help. What people long for is honest faith that doesn’t pretend to have all the answers but still clings to hope.

We all know someone (maybe it’s you) who’s tired of the game—tired of pretending everything’s okay. Maybe faith has become foggy. Maybe the pain has been too heavy. And in those moments, the last thing people need is shallow religion.

What they need is a Savior who doesn’t flinch at the truth.

When Your Feet Stink: The journey can be exhausting.

“Feet stink” is just a gritty way of saying: I’m worn out.
Life has been a long journey. Some people are exhausted from walking it alone—or worse, walking it while being judged by those who say they follow Jesus.

But here’s the beauty of the real gospel: Jesus doesn’t keep his distance from the dirty. He kneels. He washes feet. He welcomes the weary. And he still does.

What if the church looked more like a basin and towel, and less like a stage?

“I Really Don’t Love Jesus”: Honest confession is a good place to start.

This may be the most painful line in the song—but also the most honest. Some people don’t feel any affection for Jesus because the version they were shown was twisted, manipulative, or weaponized.

But often, when people say they don’t love Jesus, what they really mean is:
“I’ve never met the real One.”

And that’s where we come in—not to argue or defend, but to embody Christ.
To show them a Jesus who is full of grace and truth. A Jesus who welcomes doubt, heals wounds, confronts injustice, and never stops loving.

Staying Clear and Staying Compassionate

Paul’s warning to “stay clear” wasn’t about cutting off the brokenhearted. It was about stepping away from religious performance—from counterfeit faith that values appearance over authenticity.

Because in a world addicted to the fake, authenticity is the most powerful witness.

Let’s be real. Let’s be honest. Let’s be kind.

So yes—some people’s heads hurt. Some are worn out. And some aren’t sure they love Jesus at all.

But what if they haven’t been rightly introduced? What if their view has been blocked by loud religion and quiet hypocrisy?

Let’s be the ones who live with humble faith.
Let’s create space for hard questions and honest searching.
Let’s love people right where they are.

Because when someone meets the real Jesus—not the bumper-sticker version, not the political mascot, but the crucified and risen Savior—they just might find that their headache eases, their feet find rest, and their heart begins to soften.

And maybe, just maybe, they will grow to genuinely love and follow Jesus.

As the Winds of Time Blow: 10 Ways to Navigate the Changing Seasons of Life

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Life is full of seasons—some bright and full of joy, others challenging and uncertain. Just as nature moves from spring to summer, fall to winter, we also experience transitions in relationships, careers, health, and faith.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 affirms, “To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven.”

Change is inevitable, but how we navigate these shifts can shape our growth and resilience. Marie Dee cautions, “If you stay stuck in the past season or fixated on the future season, you will miss the one you’re in.”

Whether you’re entering a season of renewal or walking through a time of hardship, here are 10 ways to navigate life’s changing seasons with wisdom and grace:

1. Learn to be faithful and flexible. Faithfulness and adaptability are not mutually exclusive. Change is constant, and it can be uncomfortable at times. However, resisting it only makes the transition harder. Accepting that life moves in seasons allows us to adapt with greater peace and confidence. Trust that each new chapter holds purpose, even if you can’t see it yet.

2. Lean into your faith. Uncertainty can feel overwhelming, but God is constant. Seek God’s guidance through prayer, Scripture, and quiet reflection. Faith does not exempt us from change, but it can serve as a compass to help us navigate change.

3. Let go of what you no longer need. Not everything (or everyone) is meant to journey with you into the next season. Holding onto outdated habits, practices, relationships, or relics can keep you from growing into who you are meant to be. Just as trees shed their leaves in autumn, sometimes we must release the past to make room for the future.

4. Stay rooted in gratitude. In seasons of uncertainty, gratitude shifts our focus from what we lack to what we have. Take time each day to acknowledge the blessings around you. Even in difficult times, there is always something to be thankful for.

5. Stay connected to spiritual community. Life’s transitions are easier when you’re surrounded by supportive people who offer encouragement and wisdom. Seek out mentors, trusted friends, or faith leaders who can help you navigate unfamiliar territory with clarity and perspective.

6. Continue learning and growing. Each season—whether joyful or challenging—teaches us something valuable. Instead of asking, “Why is this happening to me?” shift the question to, “What is this season teaching me?” Growth happens when we are willing to learn from the experiences life brings our way.

7. Prioritize self-care. Transitions can be exhausting, so take good care of your body, mind, and spirit. Eat well, rest, exercise, and nurture your spiritual life. A well-cared-for heart and mind will help you face change with greater strength.

8. Be patient with yourself and others. Adjusting to a new season takes time. Don’t rush the process or compare your journey to others. Give yourself grace, knowing that transitions are part of life’s unfolding story. And exercise the same patience toward others who may be struggling to adjust to a new season as well.

9. Find joy in the present moment. It’s easy to focus on what’s ahead or dwell on what’s behind, but true peace and joy are always found in the here and now. Look for moments of joy, laughter, and beauty, even in uncertain times. Henri Nouwen reminds us, “Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.”

10. Keep moving forward with hope. No season lasts forever. If you’re in a difficult one, live as though brighter days areahead. If you’re in a season of joy, cherish it fully. With faith, resilience, and an open mind, you can step into each new chapter with confidence.

In addressing the impact of cultural shifts and societal changes, Malcolm Gladwell, author of The Tipping Point, contends, “You need to have the ability to gracefully navigate the world.”  

Navigating the changing seasons of life isn’t always easy, but it is always possible—with faith, wisdom, and courage. No matter what season you find yourself in today, make the most of that season, and you will be better prepared to navigate the seasons yet to come.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who currently serves as a leadership coach and columnist for the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife reside on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)