At this year’s Great Plains Orders & Fellowship gathering, we’re talking about Christian nationalism — how love of country can so easily be mistaken for love of God. Sitting in that room, surrounded by clergy and laity from across the conference, I’ve been thinking about what happens when we confuse freedom with faith.

This isn’t just a political question; it’s a spiritual one. When our allegiance to national identity takes precedence over our discipleship to Christ, freedom becomes something we cling to rather than something we practice for the good of others. Drawing on insights from Brian Kaylor and my own study of democracy and faith, I’m exploring how our call as Christians is not to baptize the nation but to live as citizens of the kingdom of God — a kingdom defined by love, humility, and justice for all.

Faith is showing up everywhere — in hashtags, business plans, and brand partnerships. But what happens when belief becomes something to sell instead of something to live? This reflection explores how easily the Gospel can be turned into content, how that shapes the way we practice faith, and what Jesus modeled instead: a life of love, humility, and action. Real faith isn’t about reach. It’s about relationship.

When I volunteered with my daughter’s youth group, I expected to help with small group questions and crafts. Instead, I found a living parable of belonging. Sixth-grade girls taught me more about radical hospitality than any training could. Jesus didn’t wait for people to behave before he loved them—and neither did they.

What if holiness looks less like getting everything right and more like showing up as your truest self — sparkly boots, pink cowboy hat, and all? At a Chappell Roan concert, in a neighborhood gifting group, in the joy of a shared song, I’ve started to see glimpses of what the early church looked like in Acts: awe, generosity, and glad hearts. Maybe being the church today isn’t about holding tighter to what we’ve always done, but about carrying God’s goodness into the places we already are — where joy and kindness overflow, and community feels like freedom.

God’s love doesn’t work on efficiency. It isn’t practical or balanced the way we want it to be. God’s love is relentless. It’s extravagant. It refuses to let one life slip away unnoticed.

Jesus told a strange story about a dishonest manager who got praised for being clever. The lesson? Sometimes the world is more deliberate with money and energy than people of faith. What would it look like if we lived more strategically with what matters most?

Sabbath began as God’s blessing before it was ever a rule. Over time people turned it into a burden, but Jesus cut through the confusion: Sabbath was made for life, not for rules. This post explores how scripture, Jewish tradition, and even everyday practices remind us that Sabbath is still a gift meant to help us thrive.

“They say that Jesus is the way, but then they gave him a white face… So did modern Christians do as Hayley Williams accuses? Burnished bronze is nowhere close to the Jesus described in Revelation.”

Gayle is a preacher and when you give a preacher a microphone, they’re gonna preach. When she came out to tell us about the party and offer us an intention for the evening, she pointed to the bible’s construct of every 40 years being a “New Beginning” and the mark for a new generation to begin.

Belonging Matters
Our Bodies Matter
Worship That Speaks to Your Soul Matters
Joy & Fun Matter

Church can be hard. Church hurt is real. Church can be a community, but so can a lot of other things. Community is essential to us loving like Jesus. Jesus knew this. He also knew that community is hard, so God sent us help. The word for Holy Spirit in Greek even means “helper.”

The Holy Spirit came,
To make a home in us.
To send peace that stays.
To help us love like Jesus, even when it is hard.

The hard truth of the Gospel is this:
We don’t get to hate people and still call ourselves followers of Jesus.
Jesus washed the feet of people who hurt him.
He shared meals with people who failed him.
That’s the example we were given.

It’s easy to say, “we love everyone.”
It’s harder to live like we mean it.

But love was never just words.
Not for Jesus. Not for us.

We are secure, not because our faith never falters, but because his love never does.

And that kind of security changes how we live. When we know who we are and who we belong to, we can live boldly.

The gospel is not meant to weigh us down; it is meant to set us free. Free to love ourselves. Free to love others. Free to live lives that testify to grace.

You are known.

You are loved.

You are held.

That is your gospel.

That is what redemption looks like. Not hiding the broken parts, but making something new out of them. That is what Jesus still does. He colors our stories with mercy and grace. Even the parts we wish we could undo. Even the pages we want to keep hidden. None of it is beyond the reach of love. What if your regrets are not the end of the story? What if they are the place where re-creation begins? The coloring book is still open. There is still space for your story.