Phoebe Birkhimer, a beloved church member and neighbor of ours during our years serving at the First Baptist Church of Williams, was known for her avid and personal note-writing. In 1992 when I had knee surgery, Phoebe baked cookies and sent them to our home as I was recovering. As an expression of gratitude, I sent hand-written notes to all who had provided food and flowers during my recuperation, including Phoebe. A few days later it happened…I received a “thank you” from Phoebe for the “thank you” note I had sent to her. Now that’s a lot of gratitude!
Psalm 138 is a song of praise and gratitude attributed to David. In The Message, “thanks” or “thank you” occurs six times. That’s a lot of gratitude. This resounds as a chorus of appreciation for God’s love, faithfulness, and strength. Then the psalmist proceeds to thank God for what God has done and for what God is going to do.
This psalm is a reminder that our relationship with God should be marked by gratitude and appreciation for God’s character and God’s actions on our behalf.
In seasons of trial or uncertainty, gratitude can be difficult, but it tends to be life-shaping in all kinds of circumstances. When we shift our focus from our predicaments to God’s faithfulness, our hearts are infused with hope and courage. David’s experience reminds us that even when the path ahead seems daunting, God walks with us, providing the grace and strength we need to confront each challenge.
Take time to lift your voice in praise and gratitude to God. Alice Walker, author of The Color Purple, says, “’Thank you’ is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme gratitude, humility, understanding.”
A deeper dive…What are some specific things you want to thank God for?How has God shown steadfast love and faithfulness in your life?
Prayer for today… Thank you, O God, for your goodness and faithfulness in my life. I am grateful for your love, mercy, and grace that strengthen me on my journey. Thank you for hearing my prayers, guiding my steps, and providing for my needs. Now cultivate in me a heart of gratitude as I grow to trust you more. Amen.
(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.)
(A version of this devotional was first published in Reflections Daily Devotional Guide.)
Everyone loves a good mystery. The twists, turns, and the ultimate revelation can be thrilling.
One morning several years ago, I received a call from the popular TV show “Unsolved Mysteries” asking permission to film an episode on our church campus. At first, I thought the call was a hoax, but as I listened to the inquiry, I realized the caller was referring to a mystery involving a member of our community who had disappeared at sea many years ago while serving in the Navy.
Interestingly, when I saw the episode eventually produced by “Unsolved Mysteries,” I noted that the program did not solve the mystery; they only explored the mystery.
In Colossians 1:27, Paul probed a different kind of mystery, one that had been hidden for ages but is now being fleshed out in God’s people: “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” This mystery is not an unsolved riddle but an evolving reality of God’s plan to bring life transformation to all through Christ.
As followers of Jesus, why is our relationship with God a mystery? Perhaps it’s a mystery because the mechanics of how faith brings individuals to life cannot be fully explained. It could be considered a mystery because the work of the Spirit is hidden to the naked eye. Or maybe it’s called a mystery because we are a work in progress, still learning, growing, and maturing, and not yet complete.
In Colossians 2:6-7, Paul urges believers to “walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith.”We are invited to probe this mystery and live out of the wellspring of our relationship with Jesus each day.
A life rooted and grounded in Christ is not easily shaken. Brenning Manning reminds us, “The more rooted we are in the love of God, the more generously we will live out our faith.”
Take a deeper dive… Where do you sense the mystery of Christ at work in your life? What are some steps we can take to become more rooted and grounded in our faith?
Prayer: We thank you for the incredible mystery that you are at work in us and through us. As we journey through life, may we always be in tune with your Spirit, who is shaping us into your likeness. Root us deeply in your truth and unite us in your love. Amen.
(This first appeared in “Reflections Daily Devotional Guide.)
A veteran airline pilot once told me, “Even the most advanced aircraft won’t go anywhere without regular course corrections.” The same is true of churches. While rooted in timeless truth, churches must constantly assess whether they’re still aligned with their mission or drifting off course.
Too often, congregations settle into familiar rhythms, mistaking comfort for health and routine for faithfulness. Meanwhile, the world outside their walls changes rapidly.
Churches are meant to be living, breathing reflections of the Kingdom of God—places where faith deepens, lives are changed, and the gospel is shared with enthusiasm and positivity. Yet even vibrant churches can get stuck.
Sometimes it’s slow and subtle. Other times, it’s an abrupt leadership conflict, a cultural shift, or simply a loss of momentum. The good news is that getting stuck isn’t the end of the story. In fact, it may be the beginning of renewal if we’re willing to reflect, reimagine, and respond.
Here are seven organizational pitfalls that can quietly derail even the most faithful of congregations—and what to do about them:
1. Prioritizing tradition over mission.
In 1967, the Swiss watch industry controlled over 80% of the global market. But when electronic watches were introduced (most notably by Seiko), the Swiss dismissed them as a passing fad. Within a decade, they had lost their dominance to competitors who embraced innovation.
The church can fall into the same trap when it values tradition over mission. When beloved customs become untouchable, they may obscure rather than illuminate the Good News.
Respect tradition, but regularly ask: “Does this still serve our mission, or just our memories?”
2. Lack of clear decision-making structures.
Churches often run on trust and familiarity—until a crisis hits. Without defined leadership roles and transparent processes, confusion and paralysis set in. Decision-making by consensus sounds inclusive, but in practice it can result in chronic indecision and burnout.
Clarify roles and lines of accountability. Empower leaders to lead and communicate decisions with transparency and grace. Structure doesn’t stifle Spirit. Rather, it provides space and channels through which the Spirit can move.
3. Avoiding conflict instead of addressing it.
A pastor once said, “In some churches, the goal is not peace—it’s the appearance of peace.” Many congregations avoid conflict to preserve harmony, only to find resentment simmering below the surface.
Thomas Crum cautions, “Conflict avoided is conflict multiplied.”
Encourage a culture where tough conversations happen in love. Teach that healthy conflict—done with grace and truth—is not division but discipleship.
4. Failing to adapt to changing realities.
Imagine a church that prints paper maps of their campus to hand out to first-time visitors, only to discover that no one under 40 uses paper maps anymore. They use electronic navigation through their smart device. Whether it’s communication, worship style, or outreach, churches often cling to outdated methods while the needs around them shift dramatically.
Learn to be faithful and flexible. Stay rooted in Christ, but flexible in your strategies. Evaluate regularly. Innovate prayerfully. Be ready to pivot when the moment calls for it.
5. Neglecting leadership development.
It’s been said that Moses may have led the Israelites out of Egypt, but Jethro’s advice (Exodus 18) kept him from burning out. Churches that rely on a few overextended leaders while neglecting to raise up others risk long-term dysfunction. Churches are wise to nurture and cultivate the young leaders who will become the next Joshua, the next Phoebe, the next Barnabas, or the next Timothy.
Identify and invest in emerging leaders. Offer mentoring, training, and real responsibility. A healthy church plans for the next generation before it’s desperate for one.
6. Measuring the wrong things.
Success in the church is not just about attendance and offerings. It’s about lives transformed, relationships deepened, and love lived out in the community.
William Bruce Cameron reminds us, “Not everything that counts can be counted.”
Don’t let the numbers define the narrative. Reorient your scorecard to emphasize missional engagement, spiritual formation, community influence, and kingdom impact
7. Ineffective internal and external communication.
Even vibrant churches can stall when communication breaks down. Internally, assumptions breed confusion. Externally, outdated websites, unclear signage, or inconsistent messaging can send mixed signals.
Good communication is ministry. Prioritize clarity in announcements, press releases, digital presence, and community relationships. Say what matters and say it well.
Churches are not immune to organizational drift. And while the Spirit of God moves in mysterious ways, the systems we build can either support or suppress that movement. By recognizing and addressing these common pitfalls, we free the church to do what it was always meant to do: live out the Gospel boldly, joyfully, and effectively.
Because when a church gets unstuck, the congregation gains traction and begins to move forward, outward, and upward.
(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 reside on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)
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.)
C.S. Lewis proposed, “In Christianity God is not a static thing … but a dynamic, pulsating activity, a life, almost a kind of drama — almost, if you will not think me irreverent, a kind of dance.”
Every year, the first Sunday after Pentecost invites Christians to linger over the greatest known unknown of the faith: God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In the church of my upbringing, as we affirmed the holiness of God, we sang, “God in three persons, blessed Trinity!”
1. The word Trinity never appears in Scripture, yet the biblical story keeps naming a tri-personal God who creates, redeems, and indwells the world. The pattern of God’s threefold nature emerges from the core of the biblical message:
At creation, God speaks the world into being, the Spirit hovers over the waters, and together they bring life (Gen 1:1–2, 26).
At Jesus’ baptism, the heavens open, the Father speaks, the Spirit descends, and the Son stands in the water—an unmistakable picture of divine community (Matt 3:16–17).
At the Great Commission, Jesus sends his followers out in the name—not names—of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (Matt 28:19).
So while the term came later, the concept of a triune God was there from the beginning.
2. From the beginning, God is introduced as intra-communal in nature. Genesis does more than recount cosmic origins; it unveils a God who is relationship itself. Before mountains were sculpted or stars ignited, Father, Son, and Spirit shared eternal fellowship. Theologian Cornelius Plantinga once put it this way: “The persons within God exalt each other, commune with each other, and defer to one another. Each harbors the others at the center of their being.” In other words, God is a perfect community of mutual love and unity.
3. Metaphors give us a point of reference for the Trinity but are insufficient to fully capture the essence of God’s being. Stories help us speak about the unspeakable, yet every image has limits. Saint Patrick, so legend says, plucked a shamrock to illustrate “three in one” for the Irish clans. It was a winsome start, but the plant cannot convey the depth of divine personhood. Water (steam, liquid, ice) risks modalism; the sun (star, light, heat) flirts with subordinationism. Good metaphors open doors; they are not blueprints of the mystery.
4. The Trinity is best contemplated in the rich diversity of perspectives, not a singularly authoritative definition. Western theology tends to speak of one essence in three persons (think Augustine and the Athanasian Creed); Eastern writers prefer the word perichoresis—an eternal, mutual inter-dwelling. Both vocabularies circle the same fire from different sides.
5. The persons of the Trinity have different roles but one mission. Since the notion of Trinity refers to the intra-communal nature of God, the roles and objectives assumed by the members of the Trinity do not counter of contradict the other. Within the Trinity, the Father creates, the Son redeems, and the Spirit empowers, but they are never in conflict. Every movement of God throughout history flows from one divine source, with each person of the Trinity working in perfect harmony toward the restoration of all things.
In his book, Thinking About God: An Introduction to Christian Theology, Fisher Humphreys concludes his chapter on the Trinity with this summary:
In some wonderful and mysterious way, the one, true, living God is eternally Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. These Three Persons live a life of knowing and being known, of speaking and listening, of trusting and being trusted, of loving and being loved. As astonishing as it may seem, we human beings are called to share in their eternal life. We have already begun to share in the love of the Father, Son, and Spirit, and we will be enfolded in their life and love throughout eternity.
Trinity Sunday is about recognizing that the deepest truths of God are relational, mysterious, and gloriously beyond containment. The Trinity is not a diagram to be drawn, but a mystery to be received.
Let us dance with that mystery, even though we cannot fully comprehend the choreography.
(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.)
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.)
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.)
“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.”)
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.
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.)
Cove Creek Reflections 