I Don't Feel Like a Christian Anymore: What to Do When Faith Feels Far Away
What spiritual dryness really means, and how to find your way back when prayer feels flat and the Bible feels closed

Pastor Bart Leger •
May 27, 2026

7 Minute Read

You sat in the same pew you've sat in for fifteen years. The songs you used to love came up on the screen, and your mouth knew the words. Your heart didn't.

Or maybe it was the kitchen table at six in the morning. Bible open. Coffee getting cold. Your eyes moved across the page, and nothing landed. You closed it and wondered if you ever really meant any of it.

Person feeling far from God looking out window

If that's where you are, I want to tell you something before we go another sentence. Feeling far from God is one of the most common experiences in the Christian life. It is almost never proof that your faith is gone.

Stay with me for a few minutes. There are some things going on under the surface here that are worth knowing.

Name what's going on

People lump three different things together when they say, "I don't feel like a Christian anymore." Naming yours is the first step toward dealing with it.

The first is spiritual dryness. The warmth is gone. The feelings have dried up. But you still want God. You're reading this post because you're worried about your faith, which is itself a sign your faith is alive. Dead faith doesn't worry about being dead.

The second is doubt about a question that's nagging at you. A question about suffering after you lost someone. A question about Scripture after you read something that shook you. A question about your own salvation after a hard week. Doubt is a different problem with a different fix, and it deserves its own conversation. We'll have that one in a few weeks.

The third has a cause that the person already knows. Some people who say they feel far from God have walked into a sin they don't want to leave. They know it. They feel it. The distance is real, and it has a cause they could name if they were willing.

Most readers of a post like this one are in the first bucket. The warmth has gone out, and you don't know why. You haven't done anything terrible. You haven't stopped believing. You just can't feel Him anymore, and the silence is starting to scare you.

That's spiritual dryness. It has a name because it happens to a lot of us.

You're in good company

David wrote a song about this. He wasn't a backslider. He was the king of Israel and the man God called a man after His own heart. And in Psalm 13, he writes, "How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?" (Psalm 13:1, 2 NKJV).

That’s the voice of a believer who can’t feel God. It is in the Bible on purpose.

Elijah is another one. The same prophet who called fire down from heaven on Mount Carmel ended up under a broom tree in the wilderness, asking God to take his life (1 Kings 19:4). He was exhausted and done. God didn't lecture him. He gave him food and sleep and met him after he had rested.

If David and Elijah felt far from God and were still loved by Him, you are in better company than you think.

Why this happens to people who love Jesus

I'll give you a few reasons. One of them is probably yours.

You're in a stretch of life that's wearing you out. You lost someone. You're caring for a parent who no longer recognizes you. The baby isn't sleeping. The job is eating you alive. When the body is exhausted and the nerves are frayed, the soul feels dry. That's not a sign that something is wrong with your faith. That's being a human in a broken world.

There's sin in your life you haven't dealt with. Not the dramatic kind. The kind you've made peace with because everyone else seems to be making peace with it, too. Sin doesn't have to be obvious to put distance between you and God. Sometimes, the things we excuse the easiest do the most damage.

You're disappointed with God, and you haven't said it out loud. You asked Him for something that mattered, and the answer was no, or the answer hasn't come, and you've been polite about it ever since. Politeness with God looks holy on the outside. On the inside, it puts a wall up.

Your spiritual rhythms have slowly fallen off, and you didn't notice. The Bible reading went from every other day to once a week, then to whenever you remember. Prayer became a sentence in the car. Church became when nothing else was scheduled. The fire in a fireplace goes out the same way. Nobody throws a bucket of water on it. The logs just stop getting fed.

I'll tell you something. I've been in this place myself. There was a stretch where I was phoning it in. My spiritual life felt dry, and I knew it. I kept doing pastor things because that's what pastors do, and underneath it, I was running on fumes.

What turned it around was nothing dramatic. I admitted it to myself first. Then I admitted it to God. I asked the Holy Spirit to reignite my passion for Him. And I started praying again and opening the Bible again, even when it felt like I was going through the motions the first few days. The fire came back. Not because I worked it up. Because God met me when I stopped pretending.

What to do when you can't feel God

You don't have to feel something to do something. The doing usually comes first, and the feeling follows it later.

Open your Bible anyway. Start in the Psalms. They were written by people who felt every range of human emotion, including the one you're feeling right now. Psalm 13. Psalm 42. Psalm 88. Read them out loud if you can.

Tell God the truth. Out loud. Even if the sentence is, "God, I can't feel You, and I'm scared." He's not put off by it. He already knows it. Saying it puts the wall down on your side.

Keep showing up at church. I know that's the last thing you feel like doing when you're in this place. Show up anyway. God uses the body of Christ to hold us up when our own legs give out. Sitting next to people who are worshiping is sometimes how the warmth starts to come back.

Tell one person you trust. A spouse. A pastor. A friend who won't panic on you. Spiritual dryness grows in the dark. It starts to lose its grip the moment you name it out loud to someone who loves you.

Stop measuring your faith by your feelings. Your feelings move. They move with the weather, with how much you slept, with what you ate, with what's happening at home. If you are in Christ, your standing with God is not riding on whether you woke up feeling spiritual today. It's riding on what Jesus did for you on the cross, and that didn't move.

What God says about people who feel far from Him

I want you to read this slowly.

"A bruised reed He will not break, and smoking flax He will not quench" (Isaiah 42:3 NKJV).

A bruised reed is a piece of marsh grass that's been crushed. It's bent over. It's barely holding together. A smoking flax is the wick of an oil lamp when the oil has run out. It's not burning anymore. It's just smoking. Both of them are pictures of someone who's almost done. Someone whose faith looks like it might be on its last breath.

What does God do with the bruised reed and the smoking flax? He does not break them off. He does not snuff them out. He tends them.

If your faith feels like a smoking wick right now, that's not a verdict against you. That's the exact condition God promises to handle with care.

And one more.

"The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit" (Psalm 34:18 NKJV).

Near. Not distant. Not disappointed. Near.

You may not feel Him. That doesn't mean He's not there. Feelings move. His grip on you doesn't.

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June 2, 2026 • 8 Minute Read
What the Bible Says About Anxiety (And What It Doesn't)
It's late, and the house has gone still. You should be asleep. Instead, you're staring at the ceiling while the same worry circles your mind for the hundredth time. Money, or your health, or your kid, or a thing you can't even put a name to. You've prayed about it. You've told yourself to trust God, but the knot in your chest is still there. If that's where you are, I want to say something before we hear what the Bible has to say. You are not a weaker Christian because your mind won't slow down. Somewhere along the way, many of us picked up the idea that faith and fear can't coexist in the same person. That idea has done damage to more believers than I can count, and it isn't what Scripture teaches. The idea that's hurting you Here's the belief, said out loud: a strong Christian would trust God and feel calm, so if you're anxious, your faith must be weak. Most people never say it that plainly. They just feel it as shame stacked on top of the worry they already have. The idea usually comes from one verse, read without fully understanding it. Paul writes, "Be anxious for nothing" (Philippians 4:6), and we hear a command to switch off a feeling. So we try. The feeling stays. And we decide the problem must be our faith. Let me set that verse down for a minute and look at who in the Bible felt what you're feeling. People God loved felt this Elijah had just won the biggest victory of his life. He'd called down fire from heaven in front of the whole nation. Days later, he was sitting alone under a broom tree in the wilderness, worn out and afraid, asking God to take his life (1 Kings 19:4). This is one of the boldest prophets in the Old Testament, flat on the ground and done. Look at how God answered him. There was no lecture about weak faith. God let him sleep. He sent an angel with food and told him to eat. Then, after the rest and the meal, God met him with a low whisper and gave him his next assignment (1 Kings 19:5-18). When God found His exhausted prophet at the bottom, He started with rest and a meal. David lived a good part of his life on the run, and you can hear it in the Psalms. "Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me?" (Psalm 42:5). He talked to his own troubled heart, and he took the trouble straight to God instead of hiding it. Then there's Jesus. In the garden of Gethsemane, the night before the cross, He told His friends, "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death" (Matthew 26:38). Luke, who was a physician, wrote that His sweat became "like great drops of blood" (Luke 22:44). The sinless Son of God, under so much distress that His body broke out in blood. He didn't pretend He was fine. He fell on His face and brought it to His Father. If anxiety were proof of weak faith, you'd have to explain Elijah, David, and the Lord Jesus Himself. The feeling showed up in the most faithful lives in the Book. God never once shamed them for it. What "be anxious for nothing" really means Now go back to what the Apostle Paul said in Philippians. Read the whole sentence slowly: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7) Paul gives the anxious person somewhere to put the fear. The prescription is in the second half: take it to God. Many people hear "be anxious for nothing" as an order to feel calm by sheer effort. Paul is pointing them somewhere better than effort, to the ears of a Father who is listening. That feeling that grips you when you least expect it is human, and Scripture treats it that way. Where the Bible presses is on what you do with the worry next. Paul answers it with prayer. He points the worried person straight to God's ears. Jesus on the birds and the wildflowers Jesus taught more about worry than almost anyone in the Bible, and He did it without a hint of shame. In the Sermon on the Mount, He pointed at the birds. "They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (Matthew 6:26). Then He pointed at the wildflowers, dressed better than King Solomon, and gone by the end of the week. His logic is simple. The God who feeds sparrows and clothes weeds has not forgotten you. He follows it with a plain question: "Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?" (Matthew 6:27). Worry feels like you're doing something about the problem. You aren't. It spends your strength and changes nothing about tomorrow. Then comes the help for the worn-out mind: "do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble" (Matthew 6:34). You were never asked to handle every fear at once. You're asked to face today and to leave tomorrow with God. Jesus sets the pattern in the same breath: "seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you" (Matthew 6:33). Now, a word about sin, because it's the question beneath a lot of this. The anxiety that rises up in you is not automatically sinful. Jesus felt distress in Gethsemane and remained sinless throughout it. Worry crosses into sin when we hear His invitation to bring it to the Father and choose to keep gripping it ourselves. The feeling is human. The refusal to hand it over is where we get into trouble. So the aim of all this is to keep giving the fear back to God, again and again, and to trust Him with what only He can handle. God is not put off by your anxiety People worry that bringing a fearful, doubting prayer to God is somehow disrespectful. Scripture says the opposite. Look at this line from the Psalms: "In the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul." (Psalm 94:19) God put the word "anxieties" in His own songbook. He kept a man's racing mind in the prayers He preserved for us. Peter says it plainly: "casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7). The reason you can hand Him your fear is that your fear matters to Him. And what about the peace that Paul promised? That peace is God staying near, while you’re still feeling fearful. Remember Gethsemane: Jesus had His Father's peace, and His sweat still fell like blood. The peace God gives is His presence in the storm. What you can do Here's what helps when the worry comes back, and none of it requires you to feel strong first. Pray one line of Scripture, slowly. You don't need a long speech. Breathe in, "The Lord is my shepherd." Breathe out, "I shall not want" (Psalm 23:1). Let one true sentence fill your mind in place of the worry. Name what you’re worrying about to God. Say the thing itself out loud: the bill, the test results, the phone call you're dreading. Vague prayers are easy to pray and easy to forget. A named worry is one you've genuinely handed over. Pray out loud, and pray with someone if you can. Anxiety grows in isolation. It loses some of its grip the moment another person knows what you're afraid of and prays it with you. And get help when you need it. If worry has been stealing your sleep for days or making it hard to manage your normal life, talk to your doctor or a trained counselor. Seeing a physician about anxiety is wise, as is seeing one about your heart or your knee. God works through medicine and good counselors as surely as He works through prayer. Your pastor and your doctor are not in competition with your God. The thing to hold onto tonight Here is what I want you to know before you put the phone down. The worried mind at 2 a.m. is not outside the reach of God. "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." (Psalm 34:18) Near. He is not waiting for you to calm down first. He is close right now to the version of you that can't stop the racing thoughts. You can stop trying to feel brave enough to earn His attention. He is already close, and He already cares.

Pastor Bart Leger

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May 27, 2026 • 7 Minute Read
I Don't Feel Like a Christian Anymore: What to Do When Faith Feels Far Away
You sat in the same pew you've sat in for fifteen years. The songs you used to love came up on the screen, and your mouth knew the words. Your heart didn't. Or maybe it was the kitchen table at six in the morning. Bible open. Coffee getting cold. Your eyes moved across the page, and nothing landed. You closed it and wondered if you ever really meant any of it. If that's where you are, I want to tell you something before we go another sentence. Feeling far from God is one of the most common experiences in the Christian life. It is almost never proof that your faith is gone. Stay with me for a few minutes. There are some things going on under the surface here that are worth knowing. Name what's going on People lump three different things together when they say, "I don't feel like a Christian anymore." Naming yours is the first step toward dealing with it. The first is spiritual dryness. The warmth is gone. The feelings have dried up. But you still want God. You're reading this post because you're worried about your faith, which is itself a sign your faith is alive. Dead faith doesn't worry about being dead. The second is doubt about a question that's nagging at you. A question about suffering after you lost someone. A question about Scripture after you read something that shook you. A question about your own salvation after a hard week. Doubt is a different problem with a different fix, and it deserves its own conversation. We'll have that one in a few weeks. The third has a cause that the person already knows. Some people who say they feel far from God have walked into a sin they don't want to leave. They know it. They feel it. The distance is real, and it has a cause they could name if they were willing. Most readers of a post like this one are in the first bucket. The warmth has gone out, and you don't know why. You haven't done anything terrible. You haven't stopped believing. You just can't feel Him anymore, and the silence is starting to scare you. That's spiritual dryness. It has a name because it happens to a lot of us. You're in good company David wrote a song about this. He wasn't a backslider. He was the king of Israel and the man God called a man after His own heart. And in Psalm 13, he writes, "How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?" (Psalm 13:1, 2 NKJV). That’s the voice of a believer who can’t feel God. It is in the Bible on purpose. Elijah is another one. The same prophet who called fire down from heaven on Mount Carmel ended up under a broom tree in the wilderness, asking God to take his life (1 Kings 19:4). He was exhausted and done. God didn't lecture him. He gave him food and sleep and met him after he had rested. If David and Elijah felt far from God and were still loved by Him, you are in better company than you think. Why this happens to people who love Jesus I'll give you a few reasons. One of them is probably yours. You're in a stretch of life that's wearing you out. You lost someone. You're caring for a parent who no longer recognizes you. The baby isn't sleeping. The job is eating you alive. When the body is exhausted and the nerves are frayed, the soul feels dry. That's not a sign that something is wrong with your faith. That's being a human in a broken world. There's sin in your life you haven't dealt with. Not the dramatic kind. The kind you've made peace with because everyone else seems to be making peace with it, too. Sin doesn't have to be obvious to put distance between you and God. Sometimes, the things we excuse the easiest do the most damage. You're disappointed with God, and you haven't said it out loud. You asked Him for something that mattered, and the answer was no, or the answer hasn't come, and you've been polite about it ever since. Politeness with God looks holy on the outside. On the inside, it puts a wall up. Your spiritual rhythms have slowly fallen off, and you didn't notice. The Bible reading went from every other day to once a week, then to whenever you remember. Prayer became a sentence in the car. Church became when nothing else was scheduled. The fire in a fireplace goes out the same way. Nobody throws a bucket of water on it. The logs just stop getting fed. I'll tell you something. I've been in this place myself. There was a stretch where I was phoning it in. My spiritual life felt dry, and I knew it. I kept doing pastor things because that's what pastors do, and underneath it, I was running on fumes. What turned it around was nothing dramatic. I admitted it to myself first. Then I admitted it to God. I asked the Holy Spirit to reignite my passion for Him. And I started praying again and opening the Bible again, even when it felt like I was going through the motions the first few days. The fire came back. Not because I worked it up. Because God met me when I stopped pretending. What to do when you can't feel God You don't have to feel something to do something. The doing usually comes first, and the feeling follows it later. Open your Bible anyway. Start in the Psalms. They were written by people who felt every range of human emotion, including the one you're feeling right now. Psalm 13. Psalm 42. Psalm 88. Read them out loud if you can. Tell God the truth. Out loud. Even if the sentence is, "God, I can't feel You, and I'm scared." He's not put off by it. He already knows it. Saying it puts the wall down on your side. Keep showing up at church. I know that's the last thing you feel like doing when you're in this place. Show up anyway. God uses the body of Christ to hold us up when our own legs give out. Sitting next to people who are worshiping is sometimes how the warmth starts to come back. Tell one person you trust. A spouse. A pastor. A friend who won't panic on you. Spiritual dryness grows in the dark. It starts to lose its grip the moment you name it out loud to someone who loves you. Stop measuring your faith by your feelings. Your feelings move. They move with the weather, with how much you slept, with what you ate, with what's happening at home. If you are in Christ, your standing with God is not riding on whether you woke up feeling spiritual today. It's riding on what Jesus did for you on the cross, and that didn't move. What God says about people who feel far from Him I want you to read this slowly. "A bruised reed He will not break, and smoking flax He will not quench" (Isaiah 42:3 NKJV). A bruised reed is a piece of marsh grass that's been crushed. It's bent over. It's barely holding together. A smoking flax is the wick of an oil lamp when the oil has run out. It's not burning anymore. It's just smoking. Both of them are pictures of someone who's almost done. Someone whose faith looks like it might be on its last breath. What does God do with the bruised reed and the smoking flax? He does not break them off. He does not snuff them out. He tends them. If your faith feels like a smoking wick right now, that's not a verdict against you. That's the exact condition God promises to handle with care. And one more. "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit" (Psalm 34:18 NKJV). Near. Not distant. Not disappointed. Near. You may not feel Him. That doesn't mean He's not there. Feelings move. His grip on you doesn't.

Pastor Bart Leger

May 26, 2026 • 5 Minute Read
Defeating Life's Giants
There's a kind of problem that doesn't go away when you ignore it. Maybe it's a fear that keeps coming back. Maybe it's a sin you've fallen into more times than you can count. Whatever it is, you've tried to handle it on your own, and it hasn't worked. Most of us have something like this. The Bible has a name for it. It calls these problems giants. The story of David and Goliath shows us how to face them. The story Israel's army had been camped across a valley from the Philistine army for forty days. Every morning, a giant named Goliath came out and shouted insults at the Israelite soldiers. Every morning, no one stepped up to fight him. The whole army was paralyzed by fear. David was a teenager. He wasn't a soldier. He had come to the camp to bring food to his older brothers. When he heard Goliath, he didn't see what everyone else saw. He saw a man defying the God of Israel. He volunteered to fight. When King Saul tried to put armor on him, David refused. He couldn't move in it. He went out to meet Goliath with five smooth stones and a sling. Before he threw the first stone, he said this: "You come to me with sword, spear, and javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Heaven's Armies—the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. Today the Lord will conquer you. And then everyone assembled here will know that the Lord rescues his people, but not with sword and spear. This is the Lord's battle, and he will give you to us." (1 Samuel 17:45–47, NLT) Then he killed Goliath with one stone. The story is famous. What it teaches about facing our own giants is less famous. There are four moves David made that we can learn from. Bring the giant into the light The first move is admitting the giant exists. Most of us don't want to do this. We'd rather pretend the fear isn't there, or tell ourselves we'll deal with it later. We push it back into the shadows where we don't have to look at it. David did the opposite. He looked at Goliath and named the problem out loud. Then he volunteered to fight. You have to do the same with whatever you're facing. Name it. Tell someone trustworthy. A giant in the dark only grows. Don't try to fight it alone The second move asks more of you. You have to stop trying to handle it yourself. Saul tried to put his own armor on David. David turned it down. He knew he wasn't going to win this fight by being a better soldier. The fight wasn't his to win on his own. When you're facing a giant, your instinct is to grind through it on your own. You think if you just gave it more effort, you could beat it. You can't. That's not how giants get defeated. This is where prayer becomes a starting point, not a last resort. You bring the giant to God before you try anything else. You ask Him for what you can't get yourself. Trust God to fight for you The third move asks even more. You have to believe God will help. David told Goliath that the battle belonged to the Lord. He wasn't being humble for show. He believed it. Goliath was bigger and more experienced. None of that mattered, because David wasn't fighting alone. Most of us claim to trust God when nothing's at stake. The trust gets tested when the stakes are high. When the diagnosis comes back, or when the sin won't let go, that's the moment when "I trust God" stops being a theological idea and becomes the thing you're doing. You can't trust God in the abstract. You trust Him with the specific giant standing in front of you. See your giant through God's eyes The fourth move changes how you see everything. Israel saw a giant they couldn't beat. David saw a man defying God. Same Goliath, two different views. Whatever you're facing today seems bigger than you because, on your own, it is. But that's not the right comparison. The right comparison is your giant against God. And God is bigger. Seeing the giant through God's eyes changes how you face it. The problem may be just as big as you think. God is bigger. One last thing These four moves don't make the giant disappear. David still had to walk down into that valley. He still had to face Goliath. But he wasn't fighting alone, and he knew it. You're not fighting alone either. Bring the giant out of the shadows and stop trying to handle it by yourself. Trust God with what you're facing, and let Him show you how big it is in light of Him. Then take the next step. The Lord rescues His people. He hasn't stopped.

Pastor Bart Leger

May 26, 2026 • 4 Minute Read
Why Belonging to a Church Matters
A lot of people think of faith as a private thing. Their walk with God happens between them and the Bible, with the closet door closed. There's something to that. Faith is personal. It's also more than personal. The way the Bible describes the Christian life, you can't really do it on your own. The point here is that you were made to belong to a community of people who follow Jesus together. Here's why it matters. Faith grows in community You can read the Bible alone. You can pray alone. But there are things you only learn from other Christians. How to keep going through grief, from someone who's been there. How to forgive a tough situation, from someone who's done it. These get passed person to person, life to life, in ways books can't replicate. A church family is where that happens. Someone to carry it with you Life will hand you things you can't carry on your own. The diagnosis. The loss you didn't see coming. When that day comes, you need people who know you, who know your situation, and who will show up. A church family is meant to be that. The people who pray for you when you can't pray for yourself. The people who bring meals and sit with you when there's nothing to say. This is one of the deepest reasons God put us in churches. We were never meant to face the worst days alone. Someone to celebrate with you The good days need company, too. The promotion. The kid who came home. If your good news only lives in your head, it loses something. Sharing it with people who love you and love God multiplies the joy. A church family is where your wins get witnessed by people who know what they cost you. Accountability that doesn't shame you You'll hear the word "accountability" thrown around. It can sound harsh, like someone is going to track your sins and call you out. Biblical accountability looks different. It's people who love you enough to ask how you're doing with the things that matter. They ask because they want you to keep growing, not to corner you. You won't get this from acquaintances. It only happens with people you've trusted with the things you carry. A place for your kids to grow up If you have kids, a church family gives them something your home alone cannot. Other adults who know them and pray for them. Other kids who are trying to follow Jesus, too. Your kids need to see that following Jesus is something a whole community does together. That changes how they understand it. What the Bible says The early church wasn't a once-a-week event. The book of Acts describes Christians who met together every day, sharing meals and resources, knowing each other's lives intimately: "All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals (including the Lord's Supper), and to prayer. A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders. And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need. They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord's Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and generosity—all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people. And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved." (Acts 2:42–47, NLT) The picture is bigger than a Sunday morning service. It's a community of people doing life together with Jesus at the center. In Hebrews 10, the writer makes the same point in different words. He tells believers to "consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another." (Hebrews 10:24-25, NLT) Notice the warning. Some Christians had already gotten into the habit of skipping. The writer tells the rest not to follow them. Final Thoughts A church family doesn't make life easy. The people in it are imperfect, and they will let you down sometimes. You'll let them down, too. But it's worth it anyway. The Christian life was never designed to be lived alone. The community of believers is where you grow as a Christian, and where people show up for each other. If you've been trying to do this on your own, take a step toward a church family. Not all at once. Just start.

Pastor Bart Leger

May 26, 2026 • 5 Minute Read
10 Ways to Build a Christ Centered Home
You don't get an evening alone to think through your kids' spiritual life. You get the half-second between dinner cleanup and the homework battle. You get the moment before bed when you're already tired. This is where faith gets passed down. Not in a class or a program. In the small moments of a normal week. The Bible tells us that what we do in our homes matters. The choices you make about what you talk about and what you make time for shape your kids' picture of who God is. Here are ten ways to build a Christ-centered home. Some of them will fit your family right now. Others will not. Take what helps and leave the rest. Make time for family devotions Set aside regular time to read the Bible together. It doesn't have to be long. Ten minutes after breakfast or before bed is enough to start. What matters is consistency. Find a routine that fits your family's rhythm. Some families do this in the morning. Others do it in the evening. Pick what you can stick with for more than two weeks. Pray together Prayer is how kids learn that God is listening. They watch you pray, and they learn what prayer is. You don't need polished words. You need to be open in front of your kids about what you're asking God for. Pray over meals and before bed. Let your kids hear you bring whatever you're carrying to God. Create a home that points to Him Your house tells your kids what matters to you. The things on the walls and the conversations at dinner add up over time. All of it teaches them what your family is about. You don't have to fill the house with religious decorations. But you can put a Bible on the coffee table where it gets used. You can put up something with a verse that matters to you. You can let the house, in small ways, say that this family follows Jesus. Talk about faith openly Most kids don't ask the big questions in the church parking lot. They ask them in the car or at bedtime, when their guard is down. Be ready to talk, and be okay not having all the answers. Tell them what you believe, and tell them when you don't know. Your faith should be something you're working out too, not a finished package you handed down. If they bring up something that throws you, don't shut it down. The questions that make you uncomfortable are usually the most important ones. Serve together Faith that doesn't move out into the world goes stale. Find a way for your family to serve someone outside your house. Maybe the food pantry, or a neighbor who could use help with the yard. Bring your kids with you. Let them see what it looks like to give time and effort to someone who can't repay you. That's where they learn what Jesus meant by loving your neighbor. Share your faith with others Your kids learn how to talk about Jesus by hearing you do it. If you only talk about your faith at home, they'll learn that faith is private. If you talk about it with the people in your life, they'll learn that faith is something you bring with you. Invite people to church and let your kids hear you tell stories about what God is doing in your life. They learn from what you do out loud. Make church a priority Show up to church regularly and bring your kids. Let them be part of the community of believers around you. Church gives kids something a Christian home alone cannot give. Other adults who care about them, and a bigger picture than just their own family. When church gets inconvenient, go anyway. Your kids are watching what you protect time for. Encourage their own time with God As your kids get older, they need their own faith, not just yours. Give them age-appropriate Bibles. Let them see you doing your own devotions and hear you talk about what you're learning. If they ask questions about what they're reading, take it seriously. Their faith is becoming theirs, and they need you to treat it that way. Keep Christ at the center of holidays Christmas and Easter come with a lot of pressure to do them right. Presents, traditions, and family expectations. The actual reasons for these days can get buried. Be intentional about pointing back to Jesus during these seasons. Read the nativity story together at Christmas. When Easter comes, talk about why we have Easter at all. The holidays will fill up with everything else if you let them. Live what you teach This one matters more than the other nine combined. If you tell your kids that following Jesus matters, but they don't see it in how you treat their mother and how you handle stress, they'll know. They watch what you do, not what you say. You don't have to be perfect. You have to keep trying. Show them what it looks like to follow Jesus when you mess up. Apologize when you should, and try again the next day. That's the most powerful thing you can teach them about grace. One last thing Building a Christ-centered home is a thousand small choices made over the years. You'll get some of them right. You'll get some of them wrong. Keep showing up. The kids you're raising are watching the God you say you serve. Let them see Him in you.

Pastor Bart Leger

May 26, 2026 • 6 Minute Read
Move From Stress to Gratitude by Meditating on the Psalms
There's a kind of tiredness that comes from being scared for too long. It's the exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix. Watching the news makes it worse. The Psalms have been carrying people through this kind of stretch for thousands of years. They give us a pattern we can use when we don't know what to pray. The pattern is simple. We cry out to God about what's happening, and we hold onto hope because help is coming. Two moves. The first one tells the truth. The second one takes faith. Three kinds of seasons Walter Brueggemann, an Old Testament scholar, noticed something while he was studying the Psalms. He saw three different kinds of life moments showing up in them. He called them seasons of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation (Brueggemann, 1984). When life is in orientation, things are working. The bills are getting paid, and you can feel God's blessings. This is where we hope to spend most of our days. Then something breaks. Maybe a diagnosis comes back bad, or the job ends. We move into disorientation, where the ground we trusted is gone. This is what most of the Psalms are written from. After a long stretch of disorientation, we sometimes find our way to a different kind of solid ground. The crisis isn't always over. But we've learned something we couldn't have learned any other way. Brueggemann called this new orientation. It's a place of gratitude that has been through something. The Psalms walk us through all three. That's why they matter so much when life turns difficult. What the psalmist does When you read a psalm of lament, you'll see the writer doing something that might surprise you. They complain to God. Out loud. With specifics. They tell God what's wrong and why they feel forgotten. They don't dress it up. They don't pretend to have faith they don't have. They give God the situation as it stands. Then, somewhere in the middle of the psalm, something shifts. The writer remembers what God has done before. The remembering does something to the complaint. While it doesn't erase the pain. It puts the pain in perspective. By the end of the psalm, the writer is praising God. The problem hasn't gone away. He's praising because he's standing on what he remembered. This is the bridge from complaint to praise. We tell God what's wrong, and we let memory feed our hope. Psalm 13 Look at how this works in Psalm 13: "O LORD, how long will you forget me? Forever? How long will you look the other way? How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day? How long will my enemy have the upper hand? Turn and answer me, O LORD my God! Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die. Don't let my enemies gloat, saying, 'We have defeated him!' Don't let them rejoice at my downfall. But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing to the LORD because he is good to me." (NLT) The complaint is right there. He's been waiting. He's tired. Then comes the turn. "But I trust in your unfailing love." That's it. Seven words. The whole psalm pivots on that "but." The writer hasn't been rescued. The enemy is still there. He remembers what's true about God anyway, and that memory brings praise out of him. How to pray this way You don't have to wait for a perfect moment to pray like the psalmist. You can do it on the drive home from a tough meeting, or after the kids have gone to bed. Find a Psalm of lament. Psalm 13 is a good place to start. Read it slowly enough to let it tell you what kind of words you're allowed to say to God. Then make it personal. Find one verse that fits your complaint and make it your own. If the psalmist says, "How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul?" and that's exactly what you're feeling, say it. Pray it back to God. He already knows. Stay there as long as you need to. Some days, the lament is the prayer. Some examples might help. Say you're worried about a child who's pulled away from the family. You can take Psalm 13's "How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul" and pray it about your child. Make it specific. Tell God how long you've been waiting for them to come back, and what you've watched them go through. The psalmist's words take shape as your prayer for your specific situation. When you're ready, find a verse from later in the psalm that turns toward God. "But I trust in your unfailing love." Pray that one too. Mean it as much as you can. The same principle applies when you turn toward trust. "But I trust in your unfailing love" is the prayer of someone who knows that God has loved this child longer than they have. The situation may stay the same. What changes is who you're trusting in the middle of it. You may have to come back to this prayer all day. The fear comes back. The tough conversation comes back. Each time, you can do it again. Lament. Then trust. A word from Paul Paul wrote something to the Thessalonian church that fits here. He said: "Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, NLT) Notice the wording. Paul says to give thanks "in all circumstances," not "for all circumstances." There's a difference. You don't have to thank God that your friend is sick. You can thank Him in the middle of your friend's sickness for being there with you. The Psalms taught Paul this. They can teach us too. One more thing If you're feeling disoriented right now, I want you to hear something clearly. God is here. He hears you. The psalmist's confidence didn't depend on his circumstances. It rested on the character of the God he was praying to. That God hasn't changed. Tell Him what's happening. Tell him how scared you are. Then, when you can, remember. He has been faithful to His people for a long time. He'll be faithful to you.

Pastor Bart Leger