10 Questions Asked

These 10 Questions were asked on my "mother site", YWPMI 

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Okay... these questions. 😂

I have to admit, some of them really made me stop and think. They cover a LOT of ground, and some of them go places I honestly hadn't thought about before. That's one of the things I like about them. They aren't just questions you can answer with a quick Bible verse and move on. Some of them made me dig a little deeper into what I actually believe and why I believe it.

So I decided to answer them.

These are my answers, based on my understanding of Scripture and my own walk with God. I'm not claiming that I've got every answer figured out, because I certainly don't. But I am willing to think through the hard questions, search the Scriptures, and be honest about what I believe.

And some of these questions... whew. 😂 They really do cover a lot of ground.

Anyway, here we go. Ten questions. Ten answers. Let's see where they take us.

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A Prayer for Those Who Ask the Hard Questions

Holy Father, I thank You for Your Word and for the fact that we don't have to be afraid to ask hard questions. You already know every question in our hearts before we ever put it into words, and there is nothing we can hide from You. Give us the courage to be honest with You, especially when the answers are uncomfortable or when Your Word shows us something in ourselves that we would rather not see.

Father God, teach us to seek Your truth instead of simply looking for answers that make us comfortable. When Your Word holds up that mirror and shows us something that needs to change, help us not to turn away. Give us humble hearts that are willing to listen, repent, grow, and obey. Keep us from using Scripture to justify what we already want to believe, and help us recognize the difference between Your truth and the things we have simply become accustomed to saying.

Teach us what genuine faith looks like in our everyday lives. When we are afraid, help us trust You. When we are waiting, help us remain faithful. When You tell us to move, give us the courage to move. When You tell us to be still, give us the patience to wait. Help us never confuse our own activity, our own words, or our own plans with obedience to You.

Give us wisdom when we deal with other people, especially when questions involve leaders, churches, disagreements, and difficult situations. Help us love truth without becoming harsh, and help us show grace without compromising what You have said. Keep us from gossip, pride, false accusations, and the desire to protect people or institutions at the expense of truth. Give us the wisdom to know when a boundary is necessary and the love to keep the door open for someone who is genuinely seeking You.

And Father, when we discover some of our own “spiritual spam,” help us be willing to let it go. Show us the thoughts, words, habits, fears, and attitudes that we have been carrying around and calling faith when they really need to be surrendered to You. Teach us to take our thoughts captive, to recognize what is true, and to live according to that truth.

Most of all, keep us close to Jesus. Let our questions lead us toward You instead of away from You. Let Your Word correct us without crushing us, comfort us without allowing us to become complacent, and challenge us without making us afraid to keep learning.

Thank You for being patient with us while we grow. Thank You for answering the questions You choose to answer and for teaching us to trust You with the things we don't yet understand. Help us keep seeking, keep learning, keep obeying, and keep walking with You.

In Jesus' name, amen.

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Question 1:  “What if your faith is stronger than your fear—but your fear is stronger than your faith?”
How do you reconcile moments when doubt feels like a physical weight, yet you still choose to trust? Is there a point where faith stops being a choice and becomes a survival mechanism?

My Reply:

I had to sit with this question for a minute because there is actually quite a bit in it.

I don't think being afraid means that our faith has disappeared. David said, “When I am afraid, I will put my trust in you,” Psalm 56:3. He didn't say, “If I ever become afraid, then I must not have faith.” He acknowledged the fear and then made a decision about what he was going to do with it.

I think that is something we sometimes miss. We can feel something very strongly without having to surrender ourselves to it. Fear can be screaming at you while you are still choosing to trust God.

And then there is that father who came to Jesus and said, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Mark 9:24. I really appreciate the honesty in that statement. He wasn't pretending to have everything together. He believed, and yet he knew there was unbelief in him too. He took both of those things to Jesus.

That is probably closer to real faith than some of the things we call faith. Sometimes you don't feel strong. Sometimes you don't have an answer. Sometimes you are praying and still wondering what in the world God is doing. That doesn't mean you have stopped believing in Him.

The disciples give us another example. They were in the boat during the storm and thought they were going to die. They woke Jesus up and said, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” Matthew 8:25. They were afraid. Jesus still had something to teach them about their faith, but notice where they went when they were afraid. They went directly to Him.

This part matters tremendously to me.

I don't think God expects us to come to Him only after we have gotten ourselves emotionally straightened out. “Pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge,” Psalm 62:8. If I'm scared, I can tell Him I'm scared. If I don't understand something, I can tell Him I don't understand. If my faith feels weak, I can tell Him that too.

Peter says, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you,” 1 Peter 5:7. He doesn't tell us to hide it. He tells us what to do with it.

As for faith becoming a survival mechanism, I think there are times when faith absolutely is what keeps a person going. Mine does. There have been things in life that I would not have known how to walk through without trusting God. But I wouldn't reduce faith to a survival mechanism. I'm not trusting God only because I need something to get me through a difficult day. I'm trusting Him because He is God, and I have learned that He is worthy of my trust.

And honestly, I think sometimes we make this harder than it needs to be. We start examining ourselves and asking, “Is my faith strong enough? Am I trusting enough? Why am I still afraid?” Meanwhile, God is right there. Our faith isn't what makes God faithful. God is faithful anyway. That is who he is. That is where I want my confidence to rest.

So if somebody is sitting somewhere today/night and their fear feels enormous and their faith feels very small, I wouldn't tell them that they have failed God. I would tell them to bring that little bit of faith to Him. Tell Him the truth. Pray anyway. Keep trusting Him one step at a time.

Sometimes faith is not a great feeling of certainty. Sometimes it is simply refusing to let go of God when you don't know what else to hold on to.

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Question 2:  “The Bridegroom is coming… but what if He shows up and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes?”
If the return of Christ were announced today, what’s one spiritual or practical “wardrobe malfunction” you’d need to fix before meeting Him? (Bonus: Is it even possible to be fully ready?)

My Reply:  Now this is an interesting question. The “yesterday's clothes” part made me stop and think about what I would actually need to change if Christ came today.

The first thing that came to my mind is that I don't want to be carrying around things God has already told me to let go of. Sometimes we know exactly what needs to be dealt with, but we keep putting it off. We tell ourselves we'll get around to it. “Tomorrow” is a very convenient word.

But I also don't think being ready for Christ means that I have to reach some point where there is absolutely nothing left in me that needs growing, changing, or learning. If that were the requirement, none of us would ever be ready.

Paul said, “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on,” Philippians 3:12. Paul was not sitting around wondering whether he was a Christian who belonged to Christ. He knew whom he served. Yet he also knew that he was still growing.

Jesus' parable of the ten virgins in Matthew 25:1-13 makes the matter of readiness very serious. The five foolish virgins were not prepared when the bridegroom arrived, and when the announcement came, they could not borrow somebody else's preparation. There are some things nobody else can do for you.

That makes me think readiness is not about trying to predict the exact day or getting myself into some “perfect spiritual condition” at the last possible minute. It is about living in a relationship with Christ now.

If He came today, I would want Him to find me trusting Him, loving Him, believing His Word, and walking with Him. I would want my heart to be where I have been telling Him I want it to be.

And yes, there are always things God can show us that need changing. I don't think that should make us afraid that we aren't ready for Him. It should make us willing to keep listening when He shows us something. Being ready doesn't mean being finished. It means being His and being willing to follow Him wherever He leads us.

So, could I be completely finished? No. Could I be ready? Yes, absolutely. And if Christ came today, I would want Him to find me still trusting Him and still willing to let Him change whatever needs changing.

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Question 3:  “Jesus overcame the world… but the world keeps winning small battles in your mind.”
What’s a “worldly” thought or habit you’ve surrendered to that still feels like a betrayal? How do you tell the difference between resistance and rebellion?

My Answer:  I don't know that I would call every worldly thought or habit that still bothers me a betrayal. Sometimes a thought can come into your mind without you inviting it there. What matters is what you do with it once you recognize it. Paul tells us to take our thoughts captive, 2 Corinthians 10:5, but I think a lot of people have heard that verse without ever being taught what it actually means to do it.

To me, taking a thought captive means stopping long enough to examine it instead of letting it run around in your head unchecked. Is this thought true? Does it agree with what God has said? Is it leading me toward Him or pulling me away from Him? Sometimes the answer is as simple as recognizing, “That isn't true,” and replacing the thought with what God's Word actually says. If the thought is, “God has abandoned me,” I don't have to sit there arguing with myself for an hour. I can answer it with Scripture. God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you,” Hebrews 13:5. That's taking the thought captive. You don't have to entertain every thought just because it showed up. He has said to me, “I am with you”!!! THAT is exciting!!! I CAN trust that!

And then there is Paul talking about his own struggle in Romans 7. He says, “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do, this I keep on doing,” Romans 7:19. I don't think Paul was proud of that. He was bothered by it. He wanted to do what was right. So when we find ourselves struggling with something that we know isn't right, I don't think we should immediately assume that the struggle itself is rebellion. There are things God has had to work out of me over the years that I thought were already gone. Then something happens and there it is again, and I have to say, “Lord, I’m thinkin’ we aren't finished with this one yet.” I don't enjoy discovering those things about myself, but I'd much rather that God show them to me than let me go on thinking I've already arrived.

Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world,” John 16:33. He didn't tell us we would never have another battle. He told us He had overcome the world. That changes how I look at the struggle. I'm not fighting for a victory that Christ hasn't already accomplished. I'm learning to live from the victory He has already given.

For me, the difference between resistance and rebellion has a lot to do with what I do when God puts His finger on something in my life. If He shows me an attitude, a thought, or a habit that needs to change, and I bring it to Him and ask Him to help me, then I'm discovering that I am still fighting against it. I may stumble. I may have to deal with it more than once. I may have to repent again. That doesn't mean I've decided to live in rebellion. Rebellion is when I know God has spoken and I deliberately decide that I don't care what He says because I want my own way.

And I think this is where we need to give ourselves some grace without giving ourselves excuses. I'm not going to beat myself up every time an ugly thought crosses my mind. I'm going to catch it, examine it, and if it doesn't belong there, I'm going to get rid of it. Sometimes that means replacing it with Scripture. Sometimes it means praying. Sometimes it means changing what I'm doing because I know what feeds that particular thought. Sometimes it means simply saying, “No. I'm not going down that road.”

That's part of spiritual maturity too. We learn what belongs in our minds and what doesn't, and we learn to recognize the difference.

There are still things God can work on in me. I'm not ashamed to say that. I'd be much more concerned if I thought there weren't. I don't expect to wake up one morning and discover that God has nothing left to teach me. I want Him to keep showing me what needs changing.

I'm still learning. I'm still being corrected. I'm still growing. And I'm still His.

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Question 4:  Giving burdens to God: But what if God’s response is silence?”
Have you ever prayed for relief, only to be met with an eerie calm? Is it heresy to ask why He doesn’t “fix it” the way you expected?

My Answer:  This one is a hard question, because I don't think there is anything strange or wrong about praying for God to change something and then wondering why He hasn't. I've prayed for things that I desperately wanted God to fix, and I think most people who have walked with God for any length of time have had that experience. You pray, you believe, you wait, and eventually you start asking, “Lord, why hasn't this changed?”

I don't believe that asking God “why” is heresy at all. Scripture is full of people asking Him questions. David asked, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?” Psalm 13:1. That's not somebody who didn't believe in God. He was talking directly to God because he did believe He was there. Job asked plenty of questions too. There is a whole book of them. God didn't strike him dead just for asking.

What I have learned, though, is that asking God “Why?” and telling God “You have to do it my way” are two very different things. I can ask Him why something is happening. I can tell Him that I don't understand. I can even tell Him that I don't like what is happening. I just have to remember that I am asking God for understanding, not taking His place as the one who gets to decide what must happen.

Jesus Himself prayed in the garden, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will,” Matthew 26:39. There was nothing fake about that prayer. He wanted the cup removed. He expressed that to the Father, and then He submitted Himself to the Father's will.

That tells me I don't have to pretend I want something different from what I actually want. God already knows what's in my heart anyway. I can be honest with Him. “Father God, I don't understand this. I don't want this. Please change it.” And then I can add, “But I trust You with the answer.”

The silence part is harder.

There have been times when I have wanted an answer and didn't get one. Sometimes I have wanted God to fix something and He didn't fix it the way I thought He would. I don't have a magic explanation for that, and I don't think we should give people the idea that there is one. Sometimes we just don't know why God allows something to continue.

Deuteronomy tells us, “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us,” Deuteronomy 29:29. There are things God has chosen to tell us, and there are things He has not to tell us. We have to be willing to live with that.

But God's silence is not the same thing as God's absence.

That's something I have had to learn. I may not hear an answer. I may not understand what He is doing. I may not see the changes I have been praying for. But that doesn't mean He has stopped being God, stopped hearing me, or stopped caring about me. Nope. I KNOW He does.

Psalm 13 actually ends with David saying, “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation,” Psalm 13:5. Notice that his circumstances hadn't necessarily changed between verses 1 and 5. Something changed in David while he was waiting.

I think that happens to us sometimes. We ask God to change the situation, and while we are waiting, He starts changing us. Not always because the situation doesn't matter, but because He is doing something in us that we couldn't see when all we could think about was getting out of the situation.

And sometimes He does fix it. Sometimes the answer comes suddenly, and you look back and know there was no way you could have arranged it yourself. Other times the answer takes years. Sometimes we don't see the answer we wanted at all.

I don't think faith means pretending that doesn't hurt. Faith means I can hurt and still trust Him.

So no, I don't think it is heresy to ask God why He didn't fix something the way we expected Him to. I think the danger is when our “why?” turns into “therefore I will no longer trust You.”

I can ask the question. I can cry. I can be disappointed. I can admit that I don't understand. And I can still say, “Father God, I don't know what You're doing, but I know You.”

Sometimes that is where faith gets very real.

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Question 5:  Faith in difficult times: When does ‘waiting’ become ‘wasting’?”
How do you measure the line between patient endurance and passive resignation? Can faith exist without action?

My Reply:  I think the words “waiting on God” can sometimes become a very convenient phrase. We can say we're waiting on God when we're actually afraid to move, when we don't know what to do, or when we know what we should do and just don't want to do it... yet. I've done enough of life to know that those are not always the same thing.

The Bible really does tell us to wait on God. David said, “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord,” Psalm 27:14. So waiting isn't some lesser form of faith. Sometimes God actually tells us to wait, and if He has told us to wait, then waiting is obedience.

But waiting on God doesn't mean I stop doing everything else He has already told me to do. If I'm waiting for an answer to a prayer, I can still pray. I can still study His Word. I can still take care of what He has put in front of me. I can still prepare. I can still serve. I can still keep going. I don't have to put my whole life on hold because there is one thing I'm waiting for God to do.

I think this is where patience and endurance come in. There are times when nothing seems to be happening, but God is still asking us to remain faithful. Hebrews says, “You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised,” Hebrews 10:36. That doesn't sound like sitting around doing nothing to me. It sounds like continuing to trust God and keep doing what is right even when the answer hasn't come yet.

And then there are times when we really do need to move. If God has already made something clear and I'm continually saying, “I'm waiting on God,” when what I'm really doing is putting off obedience, then I've turned waiting into an excuse. James says, “If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn't do it, it is sin,” James 4:17. That's pretty plain.

At the same time, I don't think we should consider that every person who is waiting is being passive. Some of the hardest faith I've ever seen is in people who are waiting and still trusting God when they have absolutely no idea when the answer is coming. They may not be able to do anything to change the situation, but they can pray. They can keep believing. They can refuse to give up. They can continue to obey God in the middle of it.

There is a kind of action that nobody else can see. Prayer is action. Perseverance is action. Getting back up when you're discouraged is action. Refusing to run ahead of God because you're tired of waiting is action too.

I think about Abraham. God gave him a promise, and then Abraham had to wait. He couldn't make the promise happen by force. He couldn't rush God's timing. He had to believe God while time kept passing. And that's hard.

We live in a world where we can get almost anything immediately. We can order something and have it delivered tomorrow. We can send a message and expect an answer in minutes. We get very used to things happening when we want them to happen. God doesn't work according to Amazon's shipping schedule.

Sometimes He tells us to move. Sometimes He tells us to stay. Sometimes He gives us just enough light for the next step and not the next ten steps. That doesn't mean He's forgotten us. It means we have to trust Him with what we cannot see yet.

So when does waiting become wasting?

I think that happens when I'm using “waiting on God” to avoid something He has already told me to do. But if I'm doing what He has told me to do; continuing to pray, continuing to trust Him, and waiting for Him to make the next step clear, I don't believe that time is being wasted at all.

And can faith exist without action?

Absolutely, if by “action” we mean running around trying to make something happen. 😂 Faith doesn't always look like movement. Sometimes faith looks like standing still because God told you to stand still.

But real faith will affect what I do. James tells us that faith without works is dead, James 2:17. If I truly believe God, that belief is eventually going to show up in the way I live.

For me, the question I would ask isn't simply, “Am I waiting?”

I'd ask, “Am I being faithful with what God has already put in front of me while I'm waiting for what I haven't received yet?” That question can tell us a lot. Because I don't want to spend my time waiting for God to do something while ignoring the things He has already told me to do. And I certainly don't want to get so tired of waiting that I decide I need to make God's promise happen for Him.

I've learned that I can trust God enough to wait. And I can trust Him enough to move when He says move. That's faith too.

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Question 6:  “Make A Joyful Noise! …but what if your noise is just background static?”
What’s a song, prayer, or act of worship that once moved you deeply—and now feels like a hollow tradition? How do you reclaim it?

My Reply:  This is a good question because I think it's possible to keep doing something that once meant everything to you and then you eventually realize that you're just going through the motions. You know the words. You know when to stand. You know when to sing. You know how the prayer goes. And yet somewhere along the way, your heart isn't really in it anymore. I don't think the answer is to throw the song nor the prayer away.

Sometimes I think we need to stop and ask ourselves why it became empty in the first place.

There have been times when I've heard a song that used to move me deeply, and then realized that I had heard it so many times that I wasn't really listening anymore. The words were still true. God hadn't changed. The song hadn't suddenly become meaningless. I had simply become too familiar with it. And familiarity can do that to us. We can become so accustomed to holy things that we stop treating them as holy.

Jesus talked about people who honored God with their lips while their hearts were far from Him, Matthew 15:8. That's a pretty serious warning. God isn't impressed because I can sing every word of a worship song if my heart isn't actually turned toward Him.

But I also don't think every time we don't feel something during worship means that our worship is false. We aren't going to have the same emotional response every time we sing a song, pray a prayer, or read a Scripture. Feelings change. Some days we're excited. Some days we're just tired. Some days we're hurting. Some days we may feel absolutely nothing.

God is still worthy of worship on all of those days.

For me, reclaiming something that has become routine would start with slowing down enough to actually think about what I'm saying. If I'm singing a song about God's faithfulness, then I'm going to think about His faithfulness instead of just singing the words because I know what's coming next. If I'm praying words I've prayed a hundred times, I'm going to remember that I'm actually talking to God.

Sometimes we don't need something new. Sometimes we need to wake up to the meaning of something we've heard a thousand times.

And sometimes, I think changing how we worship can help us get out of a brain rut. Pray differently. Sing the song without the music. Sit quietly before God. Read the words of a hymn or worship song slowly and think about them. Thank Him for something specific instead of repeating the same general words we've always used.

Psalm 100 says, “Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs,” Psalm 100:1-2. There's nothing in that passage telling us that worship has to be performed perfectly. It is about coming before Him.

And here's the part I really like about this question. Even if something has become background static, that doesn't mean it has to stay that way. A familiar prayer can become meaningful again. A song you've sung for years can suddenly hit you differently because you're hearing the words through something you've lived through. A Scripture you've known forever can suddenly come alive in a completely different way because now you understand something you didn't understand ten years ago.

I've had moments where I've read a verse I've read so many times before and suddenly thought, “Ohhhhhh. NOW I understand why that matters.”

God didn't change the Word. I changed.

So I don't think reclaiming worship is necessarily about finding a new song, a new prayer, or some new way to make myself feel something. Sometimes it's simply coming back to God with an honest heart and saying, “Father God, I don't want to just make noise. I want to worship You.”

And then worship Him. Even if the feelings aren't there yet. Because God is still God when I'm overwhelmed with joy, and He's still God when I'm standing there quietly trying to gather my thoughts.

The noise isn't what makes worship valuable. It's the One I'm worshiping.

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Question 7:  “Pastor’s Accountability: What if the pastor’s sin isn’t the problem—it’s the congregation’s complicity?”
When a leader stumbles, is the real question about their accountability… or the church’s willingness to see? How do you hold space for both?

My Reply:

This is a serious question because I think we sometimes put spiritual leaders on a pedestal that God never told us to build for them. A pastor is still a person. He can be wrong, he can sin, and he can make terrible decisions. Being a pastor doesn't somehow make the sin less serious, and it doesn't put him beyond correction or accountability.

At the same time, I don't think we should automatically think that the congregation is guilty simply because a pastor has sinned. There may be people in that congregation who had no idea what was happening. There may be people who tried to address the problem and weren't listened to. There may be people who were just as deceived, confused, or hurt as everyone else. We have to be careful not to assign guilt to people simply because they belong to the same church.

But what happens when people actually know what is going on and decide they just don't want to know? That's where I think the question about complicity becomes very serious. People can become extremely protective of someone they admire. We can make excuses for a leader because we've been blessed by his preaching or because we've seen God use him. We can tell ourselves that talking about the problem would damage the church or bring shame on the name of Christ. We can even use Scripture about not judging as a reason to avoid confronting something that clearly needs to be dealt with.

God doesn't need us to protect Him from the truth.

Scripture gives us a way to deal with accusations against spiritual leaders. Paul told Timothy, “Do not entertain an accusation against an elder unless it is brought by two or three witnesses,” 1 Timothy 5:19. That matters because an accusation is not automatically proof. People can lie. People can misunderstand what happened. People can become angry and make accusations that aren't true. Accountability still needs to be handled with truth and fairness.

But Paul also said that those who persist in sin should be rebuked, 1 Timothy 5:20. So Scripture doesn't give the church permission to ignore established wrongdoing simply because the person involved is a leader. There is a difference between spreading rumors about somebody and dealing honestly with something that has been established.

I think that's an important distinction because accountability should never become an excuse for gossip, revenge, or purposely destroying someone's reputation. If we're going to accuse someone of serious wrongdoing, we need to care about the truth enough to make sure we're actually dealing with the truth. At the same time, once something has been established, we can't pretend we didn't see it simply because acknowledging it is uncomfortable.

The congregation also has a responsibility to know God's Word well enough to recognize when something is wrong. The Bereans were commended because they examined the Scriptures to see whether Paul's teaching was true, Acts 17:11. They were listening to Paul, and yet they still searched the Scriptures. They didn't believe something simply because an important spiritual leader had said it.

I think that is a healthy attitude for the church. Respecting a pastor doesn't mean believing that he is incapable of being wrong. A pastor should be respected for the position God has given him, but he is still accountable to the same Word of God that everybody else is accountable to.

And I think the congregation has to be careful about the phrase, “But look at all the good he has done.” Maybe he has done a lot of good. Maybe God really has used him to help people. That still doesn't make sin acceptable. David was God's chosen king. God had used him tremendously, and yet when David sinned with Bathsheba, Nathan confronted him and David had to face what he had done, 2 Samuel 12:1-13. His position didn't excuse him.

That's something I think the church needs to remember. God can use a person without approving everything that person does. The fact that somebody has preached powerful sermons, helped people, led people to Christ, or accomplished good things does not give that person permission to live however he wants.

And the same thing applies to the congregation. If people knowingly cover up sin, make excuses for it, help it continue, or attack the people who try to bring it into the light, then they have their own responsibility before God. Jesus said, “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known,” Luke 12:2. We may be able to hide things from other people for a while, but we aren't hiding anything from God.

I also think we have to leave room for genuine repentance. Accountability isn't the same thing as deciding that someone can never be forgiven. If a leader truly confesses his sin, turns away from it, accepts the consequences, and submits to whatever correction is necessary, that's something we should take seriously too. Forgiveness doesn't necessarily mean putting someone right back into the same position they were in before the sin, because restoration and qualification for leadership are not always exactly the same question. But repentance should never be treated as meaningless.

So how do I hold space for both the leader's accountability and the congregation's responsibility? I think we start by refusing to excuse either one. The pastor is accountable to God for what he does, and the people are accountable to God for what they knowingly participate in, tolerate, defend, or refuse to confront.

At the same time, I don't want the church rushing to judgment every time somebody makes an accusation. There should be truth, evidence, wisdom, proper process, and a willingness to hear what actually happened. We should care enough about justice that we don't condemn an innocent person, and we should care enough about truth that we don't protect a guilty person.

Ultimately, I don't think the answer is choosing between holding the pastor accountable and examining the congregation's role. If there is genuine wrongdoing, both questions may need to be answered. What did the leader do, and what did the people around him do with what they knew?

That's uncomfortable, yes. But following Christ doesn't mean we get to avoid uncomfortable truth. It means we're willing to face it when we find it.

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Question 8:  “DAILY BIBLE READING SCHEDULE: But what if the Bible is a mirror, not a menu?”
Some days, Scripture feels like a command; others, like a confession. How do you read it when it reflects your own brokenness back at you?

My Reply:  I actually like the “mirror, not a menu” part of this question. Because sometimes we can approach the Bible almost like we're looking for today's portion of encouragement. We want the verse that makes us feel better, gives us hope, answers our question, or confirms what we already think. Then we come across something that doesn't make us comfortable at all, and suddenly the Bible isn't quite as pleasant to read.

I've had those moments where I've read something and thought, “Well... I wasn't expecting You to talk about THAT today, Lord.” But I think those can be some of the most valuable moments in Scripture, because God's Word isn't supposed to simply tell me what I want to hear. It is supposed to tell me the truth. What HE wants me to know and learn for that day.

James compares someone who hears God's Word but doesn't do what it says to a person who looks at their face in a mirror and then walks away and forgets what they look like, James 1:22-24. That tells me something important about what the mirror is for. The purpose isn't for me to stare at every flaw and decide how terrible I am. The purpose is to see what is actually there and then respond to what God is showing me.

So when Scripture shows me something broken in me, I don't want to run away from it. I don't want to argue with God about it either. If He's showing me something that needs to change, then I need to be willing to look at it honestly and say, “Okay, Lord. I see it. Please help me fix it.” That doesn't mean I sit there beating myself up over every weakness I discover. There is a difference between conviction and condemnation. Conviction points out what needs to change and draws me toward God. Condemnation tells me there is no hope for me. Those are not the same thing.

I think one of the beautiful things about Scripture is that it doesn't hide the failures of the people God used. David sinned. Peter denied Jesus. Moses made serious mistakes. Elijah became discouraged. Paul openly talked about his struggles. The Bible doesn't clean everybody up and then show us the finished picture. It lets us see the whole story.

David's words in Psalm 51 are a good example. He wasn't trying to make his sin sound pretty. He came before God and said, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me,” Psalm 51:10. He recognized what was wrong, confessed it, and asked God to change him.

That's what we should all want to do when Scripture holds a mirror up to us. If I read something about forgiveness and realize I'm still holding onto resentment, I don't want to blame the verse for making me uncomfortable. If I read about loving my enemies and think, “Lord, surely You didn't mean that person.” then maybe I need to pay attention to why I had that reaction.

Sometimes the verse isn't the problem. Sometimes the verse found me.

And that's when reading Scripture becomes more than simply gathering information. God's Word starts examining me. Hebrews says, “The word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword... it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart,” Hebrews 4:12. That's not always comfortable, but I really don't think it is supposed to be. Sometimes the Word has to cut through the excuses I've made for myself.

But I also don't want to stop there. God doesn't show me what is broken in me just so I can sit there staring at it. He shows it to me so I can bring it to Him, repent, ask Him for help, learn to do things differently, and allow Him to change me.

And that's where I think the “mirror” illustration can sometimes be misunderstood. A mirror can show me that something is wrong, but the mirror isn't what fixes it. Scripture reveals the truth, and then I have to respond to what God has shown me. I don't read the Bible so I can become an expert at identifying everything wrong with myself. I read it because I want to know God, understand His ways, obey Him, and become more like Christ.

Paul said, “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus,” Philippians 1:6. I love that because seeing something in myself that still needs work doesn't mean God has abandoned me. It reminds me that He is still working in me. He is still with me!

Honestly, I would rather God show me the truth than let me live comfortably in a lie. If Scripture only ever told me how wonderful I was, agreed with everything I thought, and made me feel good every time I opened it, I would have to wonder whether I was actually allowing God's Word to speak to me or whether I was just looking for confirmation.

There are days when I open the Bible and find comfort. There are days when I find correction. Sometimes I find an answer, and sometimes I find a question that I have to really think about for a while. Sometimes I read something I've read twenty times before and suddenly see something I never noticed. That's only one of the reasons I keep reading.

The Bible isn't a menu where I get to pick only the parts I like. It is God's Word, and sometimes when I open it, I find that I'm the one being examined. When that happens, I want to be humble enough to listen.

If I see something in myself that needs changing, I don't want to hide it from God. He already sees it anyway. I'd rather bring it to Him, let Him deal with it, and keep walking with Him while He works in me. So when the Bible reflects my brokenness back at me, I don't want to throw the mirror away. I want to look deep into it. And then I want to let God do something about what I see.

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Question 9:  “Table of Contents”: Why does the “About This Site” rule feel like a cage to some, and a lifeline to others?
Is exclusivity a safeguard or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Can a believer’s site also be a place where seekers are gently, or not-so-gently, shown the door?

My Reply:  I think the first thing we have to do is decide what we mean by “exclusivity.” If we're talking about having clear boundaries around what a site teaches, what it believes, and what it will or won't participate in, I don't see that as a cage. I think it's simply being honest about what the site is. Not every Christian site is going to teach every doctrine, answer every question, or agree with every belief, and I don't think it has to.

Where I think we can get into trouble is when having boundaries turns into deciding that people who don't already agree with us aren't welcome to ask questions or learn. Those are two very different things. I can say, “This is what I believe, and this is why I believe it,” without saying, “If you don't believe it yet, get out.”.

Jesus didn't hide the truth from people who disagreed with Him. Some of the people who came to Him were confused, doubtful, sinful, angry, or simply wrong about what they believed. He still talked with them. He answered their questions. He corrected them when they needed correction, and sometimes what He said was very difficult for them to hear. He didn't have to water down the truth to make people comfortable, but He also didn't require them to have everything figured out before He would speak to them.

I think a Christian site can work the same way. I don't have to change what I believe because somebody doesn't agree with me. I can teach what I believe Scripture says and allow people to examine it for themselves. Paul told Timothy to “correct, rebuke and encourage, with great patience and careful instruction,” 2 Timothy 4:2. I think all of those words belong together. We can tell the truth without becoming harsh, and we can be patient without compromising the truth.

At the same time, being welcoming doesn't mean that I have to let somebody else take over the purpose of the site. If someone deliberately comes in to disrupt the teaching, attack people, spread false teaching, or turn the site into something it was never meant to be, there may come a point when I have to say, “No. That's not what this site is for.” I don't think that's showing true seekers the door. That's protecting the reason the door is there in the first place.

And honestly, I understand why some people need that kind of boundary. There are plenty of places on the internet where everything is up for grabs and nobody seems to stand for anything. Sometimes people are actually looking for a place where they know what they're going to find. They want to know, “What does this person believe? What does this site teach?” I don't think there is anything wrong with answering that question clearly.

What I wouldn't want is for that clarity to turn into pride.

Jesus said, “Whoever comes to me I will never drive away,” John 6:37. That gets my attention. If somebody comes genuinely seeking Him, I don't want my response to be, “You don't believe correctly enough yet, so you can't be here.” None of us came to Christ knowing everything. We all had things to learn.

Someone may come to a Christian site with questions. They may be angry with God. They may have been hurt by a church. They may not know what they believe yet. They may disagree with almost everything they're reading. That doesn't automatically make them an enemy. They may simply be looking for answers.

Now, can a believer's site show someone the door? Yes, I believe there are times when it can and probably should. But I think we need to be honest about the reason. Am I protecting the teaching, the people, and the purpose of the site, or am I simply irritated because somebody challenged me? Those are not the same thing.

Paul told Timothy, “The Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful,” 2 Timothy 2:24. I think that's a good standard. I don't have to chase away every person who disagrees with me. I don't have to win every argument. I can know what I believe, explain why I believe it, and still treat someone who disagrees with me with the respect due them, like a human being.

There is also a danger in becoming so determined to be “welcoming” that we stop being honest about what we believe. I don't think that's helpful either. If the purpose of the site is to teach God's Word, then God's Word has to be allowed to speak, even when what it says is uncomfortable. I shouldn't and won’t have to apologize for Scripture because somebody doesn't like what it says.

Jesus told His followers to make disciples, Matthew 28:19-20. That means people who don't know, don't understand, and don't believe yet have to be able to hear the truth somewhere. If they have to agree with me before they're allowed through the door, then I've missed something pretty important.

So no, I don't think a boundary is automatically a cage. Sometimes a boundary is simply a way of protecting something that matters. It tells people what the site is and what they can expect when they come there. That can actually be helpful. And if someone comes honestly looking for God, I don't want to slam the door in their face because they haven't arrived at the same place I have. Let them ask questions. Let them search the Scriptures. Let them disagree. Let them think about it. It’s my job to help them learn and lean on, God.

They may not agree with me when they leave. And that's okay. My responsibility isn't to make everybody agree with me. My responsibility is to be faithful to what God has given me to teach and to treat the people who come looking for Him with honesty, patience, and love.

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Question 10:  Bonus (for the bold):  “All spam is deleted on sight... but what if you’re the spam?”
What’s a thought, word, or action you’ve repeated like a virus, convincing yourself it’s “faith” when it’s just noise? How do you delete it?

My Reply:  Well, this one certainly doesn't let you hide behind nice Christian vocabulary. “What if you're the spam?” That's actually a pretty good question. Plus, I’m glad for the chuckle.

I think one of the easiest things to mistake for faith is repetition. We can say something so many times that we stop asking ourselves whether we actually believe it, or whether we're just trying to convince ourselves that we believe it. We say, “I trust God,” and then spend the whole day worrying about the same thing. We say, “It's in God's hands,” and then start trying to figure out how we're going to make everything happen ourselves. The words may be completely true, but that doesn't mean I'm actually living what I'm saying.

That doesn't make the words bad. “I trust God” is a good thing to say when I mean it. The problem comes when saying it becomes a substitute for trusting Him. Sometimes I think we use Christian language to cover up something we really don't want to admit. We may be afraid, angry, impatient, or trying desperately to control something, but instead of bringing that honestly to God, we keep saying the words we think a person with faith is supposed to say.

Jesus warned about empty repetition when He talked about prayer. He said, “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words,” Matthew 6:7. He wasn't saying that we should never pray about the same thing more than once. Jesus Himself prayed again in the garden, Matthew 26:44. There is nothing wrong with continuing to bring something to God because we still need Him. The problem is thinking that by saying more words somehow proves that we have more faith or makes God more likely to answer us.

I think our actions can become “spam” too. We can keep doing something because we've always done it, or because it makes us feel productive and spiritual, without stopping to ask whether God actually told us to do it. We can fill our time with activity and call it faith when sometimes we're really just uncomfortable being still. I've had to learn that doing more isn't automatically the same thing as being faithful.

So how do I delete it? I have to be willing to stop and look at what is really going on in me. That can be uncomfortable because it's much easier to repeat the right words than to admit the wrong thing underneath them. I may have to say, “Father God, I'm telling myself I trust You, but I'm still trying to control this. Help me let it go.” Or, “I'm afraid, and I'm using all these words about faith because I don't want to admit how afraid I am.” Once I can be honest about what is actually happening, I can bring that real problem to God instead of hiding it behind religious language.

Paul tells us to take our thoughts captive, 2 Corinthians 10:5. To me, that means I don't have to give every thought permission to stay. A thought can enter my mind without my inviting it. That doesn't mean I have sinned simply because the thought appeared. I can examine it and decide whether it agrees with what God has said. If it doesn't, I don't have to keep rehearsing it until it becomes part of the way I think.

Sometimes I really do have to tell myself, “Nope. We're not doing this again.” Then I turn my attention back to what God has actually said. If I've been rehearsing the same fear for an hour, I can stop rehearsing it and pray about the actual situation. If I've been repeating a lie about myself or about God, I can answer that lie with the truth of Scripture. If I've been avoiding something God has already made clear, then no amount of talking about faith is going to take the place of obedience.

James gives us another good test when he says, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says,” James 1:22. That makes me ask whether what I'm calling faith is actually affecting the way I live. I don't mean that a person who struggles isn't a person of faith. We all struggle. I mean that I shouldn't use the word “faith” to excuse myself from doing something I already know God has told me to do.

And I don't want to make the opposite mistake either. Repeating Scripture isn't automatically “spam.” Praying about the same concern isn't automatically “spam.” Sometimes I need to remind myself of what God has said because my feelings are screaming something completely different. Sometimes I need to pray about the same thing because I haven't seen the answer yet. Jesus' own example shows me that persistence in prayer isn't the problem.

The question is what the repetition is doing in me.

Is it helping me remember God's truth and trust Him more, or am I using it to avoid dealing with what's actually happening in my heart?

That's where I think the deleting becomes real. I don't just stop saying the words. I deal with the thing that keeps producing the noise. If fear is underneath it, I bring my fear to God. If control is underneath it, I have to surrender what I'm trying to control. If pride is underneath it, I have to humble myself. If disobedience is underneath it, I need to obey. And if it's simply a thought that doesn't belong there, I don't have to keep giving it my attention.

That doesn't happen because I suddenly become perfect at controlling my mind. It happens as I learn to recognize what is true, reject what isn't true, and keep bringing myself back to God when I wander off into the noise.

I think that's probably what makes this question worth asking. “Spiritual spam” isn't necessarily some outrageous sin that everybody can see. Sometimes it's something much more ordinary. It's a fear I keep rehearsing. It's a complaint I've turned into a habit. It's a Christian phrase I've learned to say without really thinking about what I'm saying. It's an action I've convinced myself is necessary when God never asked me to do it.

And I'm not going to pretend I've never caught myself doing some of that. 😂 I think most of us can find a little spiritual spam in our lives if we're willing to look honestly.

The answer isn't to become afraid of every thought, word, or action and start wondering whether it is “faith” every time we open our mouths. That would just create another kind of noise. I think the answer is to stay close enough to God that His truth becomes the standard by which I examine what I'm thinking, saying, and doing.

So, what if I'm the spam?

Well... then I suppose I'd better let God show me what needs to go. 😂 And when He does, I want to be willing to let it go instead of finding another Christian-sounding reason to keep it.

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Don't take my word for it. Like the Bereans in Acts 17:11, search the Scriptures for yourself daily to see whether these things are so. Open your Bible, study God's Word for yourself, and ask the Holy Spirit to guide you into all truth. Don't simply accept my conclusions. If what I've written agrees with Scripture, hold fast to it. If it doesn't, let God's Word be your final authority.

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Questions by KodxDogurgep
© my replies, AMKCH 2026

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