Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection:

Clarity Over Chaos: What 1 Corinthians 14 Demands of the Church

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, March 29, 2026.

In 1 Corinthians 14, Paul confronts a chaotic church and calls it back to something simple but costly. Clarity that builds others up in the Gospel.

It did not take long for the point to land. This week, Jonathan stepped back into the pulpit and opened 1 Corinthians 14 by reading the first verses in German, then Spanish, then Ancient Greek. For most in the room, comprehension vanished almost immediately. The words may have been accurate, even beautiful in their original form, but they were inaccessible.

That moment was not just a creative opener. It was the sermon in miniature.

Paul’s concern in 1 Corinthians 14 is not whether spiritual gifts exist. It is whether they actually serve the people gathered. The issue in Corinth was not a lack of spirituality, but a misdirection of it. Gifts that were meant to build up the church had become tools of confusion. Paul is not diminishing spiritual experience. He is reordering it under the authority of love and the mission of the church.

If what we do in worship cannot be understood, it cannot accomplish what God intends for it.

The World Behind the Text

The church in Corinth was vibrant, diverse, and deeply fractured. Throughout 1 Corinthians, Paul addresses divisions, misuse of freedom, and confusion around spiritual gifts. Chapter 14 sits within a larger argument that begins in chapter 12 and crescendos in chapter 13, where love is defined as the governing ethic of all gifts.

By the time Paul reaches chapter 14, he is applying that ethic to corporate worship.

The Corinthian believers placed a high value on tongues, likely because of its dramatic and spiritual appearance. Tongues, especially in light of Acts 2, had a clear role in the expansion of the early church. When the Spirit came at Pentecost, language barriers were overcome as people heard the gospel in their own tongues.

But Corinth had taken something good and made it ultimate.

Paul’s correction is not to eliminate tongues, but to situate it properly. He elevates prophecy, not because it is more spiritual, but because it is more intelligible. It communicates truth in a way that others can receive.

In a gathering meant to proclaim Christ, understanding is not optional.

Walking the Passage

Paul begins with a clear directive in 1 Corinthians 14:1, calling believers to pursue love and earnestly desire spiritual gifts, especially prophecy. This is not a rejection of tongues, but a prioritization of what builds others up. He draws a contrast. One who speaks in a tongue speaks not to men but to God, uttering mysteries in the Spirit. Meanwhile, the one who prophesies speaks to people for their upbuilding, encouragement, and consolation.

The issue is not authenticity. It is accessibility.

Paul presses further. If the church gathers and everyone speaks in tongues without interpretation, outsiders will not be drawn in. They will be confused. In 1 Corinthians 14:16, he asks a pointed question. If you give thanks with your spirit, how can anyone in the position of an outsider say “Amen” to your thanksgiving when he does not know what you are saying?

This is the heart of the argument.

Worship is not a private experience performed in a public room. It is a shared act meant to include, instruct, and invite. Paul then delivers one of the most striking comparisons in 1 Corinthians 14:19. Nevertheless, in church I would rather speak five words with my mind in order to instruct others, than ten thousand words in a tongue.

Clarity is not a downgrade of spirituality. It is the evidence of love at work.

Paul is not measuring spiritual depth by emotional intensity or supernatural display. He is measuring it by edification. The question is not what feels powerful to the speaker, but what actually builds up the listener. Paul does not abolish tongues. He regulates it. If tongues are used, there must be interpretation. Without it, the speaker builds up only themselves, not the church. And the gathered church is precisely where building up must happen.

This leads to Paul’s broader command in 1 Corinthians 14:26. Let all things be done for building up. That sentence serves as a filter for everything that happens in corporate worship.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some traditions read this passage as a case for the cessation of tongues altogether. Others elevate tongues as the primary evidence of spiritual vitality.

Both positions tend to miss Paul’s actual emphasis.

He neither eliminates the gift nor exalts it above others. Instead, he subordinates it to love and clarity. His concern is not whether tongues exist, but whether their use aligns with the mission of the church.

A balanced reading recognizes that spiritual gifts are good, but they are never ultimate. Their purpose is always tied to the building up of others and the clear proclamation of the Gospel.

The Turn

One of the most compelling insights from the sermon came from a connection that stretches back to Genesis 11. At Babel, humanity shared one language and used it to pursue self-exaltation. The result was judgment. God confused their language and scattered them across the earth.

Language became a barrier.

But in Acts 2, that barrier begins to break. The Spirit enables people from different nations to hear the Gospel in their own languages. What was divided is now, in part, restored. The gift of tongues, rightly understood, is not about confusion. It is about connection. Tongues are not meant to obscure the Gospel but to advance it across boundaries. Any use of spiritual gifts that creates unnecessary barriers runs against the grain of God’s redemptive work.

The trajectory of Scripture moves from division to unity in Christ. From Babel to Pentecost to the global church, the aim is not spectacle but reconciliation. That is why clarity matters so much.

Song of the week: Left it in the River - Jamie MacDonald

During this Easter season, I find myself marking a personal milestone alongside the broader celebration of renewal and resurrection. The second anniversary of my public baptism on Easter Sunday 2024. It’s a moment that continues to shape my faith, and one that comes back into focus each year alongside this holiday.

This song by Jamie MacDonald has, for me, become an unexpected companion to that memory. Its lyrics trace a journey that feels deeply familiar. One of carrying burdens into the water and emerging changed. Each listen brings me back to that day, reinforcing a sense of joy that, as the song suggests, cannot be taken away. The imagery of being washed clean and “leaving it in the river” mirrors the emotional and spiritual weight of the experience.

My own baptism didn’t take place in a river, but rather at Connection Church. Still, the symbolism holds. The setting may have been different, but the transformation felt just as profound.

Even now, putting that experience into words proves difficult. But if there were a way to fully capture it, it might sound something like the lyrics of this song. An attempt to articulate a moment that continues to resonate long after the water has settled.

Carry It Into the Week

Paul closes this section with a principle that extends beyond any single gift. God is not a God of confusion but of peace, as stated in 1 Corinthians 14:33.

This is where the conversation around verses 33 to 35 often becomes tense. These verses, which call for women to be silent in churches, have been used in ways that flatten the broader witness of Scripture.

Context matters.

Elsewhere, Paul affirms the ministry of women. Jesus himself consistently elevated women within his ministry. A faithful reading recognizes that Paul is addressing a specific disruption within the Corinthian gathering, not issuing a universal prohibition on women speaking.

These verses respond to a local issue rather than establish a timeless ban. We must read difficult texts in light of the whole counsel of Scripture and the character of Christ. The larger point of the chapter remains unchanged. Worship should reflect the nature of God. It should be ordered, intelligible, and aimed at building others up.

For a church shaped by the Gospel, this has clear implications.

Gospel: The message of Jesus must be proclaimed in a way that can be understood. The good news is not meant to be hidden behind inaccessible language or insider expression.

Community: The gathered church exists to build one another up. Every contribution should serve that end.

Mission: If outsiders cannot understand what is happening, they cannot respond to the invitation of Christ.

Clarity is not a stylistic preference. It is a missional necessity.

Week in Reflection

The start of Holy Week offered a powerful reminder of the story at the center of the Christian faith. On Palm Sunday, I had the opportunity to attend The Passion and The Cross, staged by Lights Up Production at the Orpheum Theatre here in town. For those unfamiliar with the show, it presents the story of Jesus through music and live performance with an approach that brings fresh immediacy to a narrative many know well.

What stood out most was not just the scale of the production, but the emotional weight it carried. The crucifixion scene, often acknowledged during Good Friday services, was depicted with a stark brutality that lingered well beyond the final note. Performed by a cast of local volunteers, the production showcased a depth of talent that elevated each moment. There were multiple points where I found myself unexpectedly moved to tears, not only by the quality of the performance, but by the conviction behind it.

Holy Week itself remains a deeply reflective period, marking both solemn remembrance and celebration. While Good Friday centers on the crucifixion that is understood by believers as the moment Jesus bore the weight of sin once and for all, it also serves as a lead-in to the hope of Easter Sunday. That tension between grief and joy is what makes this week so significant.

This season, as stated above, also carries a personal milestone. Two years ago, on Easter Sunday 2024, I publicly affirmed my faith through baptism. Looking back, it’s been a period marked by both challenges and growth, but one I would not trade for anything. It remains, without hesitation, the most meaningful decision I’ve made in my life. While there is still much in my journey I continue to surrender and work through, the transformation at the heart level is undeniable and with it, a growing trust that, in time, all things will be made right.

As Holy Week concludes, my hope is that others found space to reflect as well. Whether through a Good Friday service, a moment of quiet consideration, or a full celebration of Easter. More than two millennia later, the story of the resurrection continues to resonate, inviting both reflection and renewal.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Connection Church in Sioux Falls is a gospel-centered community committed to helping people follow Jesus through authentic relationships, biblical teaching, and everyday mission. Rooted in historic Christian belief and aligned with gospel renewal movements, the church exists to see lives transformed by Jesus. Learn more: https://siouxfallsconnection.com/who-we-are

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: If It Isn’t Love, It’s Nothing

Based on the sermon by Traye LaMere, Connection Church Sioux Falls, March 22, 2026.

It’s one of the most familiar passages in all of Scripture. Recited at weddings, printed on décor, and often reduced to a sentimental ideal. But when Traye LaMere, one of our Deacons at Connection, stepped into the pulpit this week to walk through 1 Corinthians 13 (ESV), he pulled the chapter out of its comfortable cultural setting and returned it to its original, disruptive purpose.

Yes, it’s about love. But not the kind we casually reference in everyday life.

The title given this chapter is, “The Way of Love,” and in doing so, he reframes not just relationships, but the entire Christian life. This isn’t a side note to faith but the core of it. And if Paul is right, then everything we do without love, no matter how spiritual, impressive, or sacrificial, is ultimately empty.

The World Behind the Text

To understand the force of 1 Corinthians 13, you have to step back into the chaos of the Corinthian church. This was not a community lacking in spiritual activity. In fact, they had the opposite problem as they were overflowing with gifts, but starving for unity.

Paul’s letter up to this point addresses division, pride, misuse of spiritual gifts, and a general tendency toward self-exaltation. Chapter 12 celebrates the diversity of gifts within the body, but it ends with a pivot: “And I will show you a still more excellent way” (1 Cor. 12:31, ESV).

That “more excellent way” is not a better gift. It’s love.

What follows in chapter 13 is not a poetic interruption but Paul’s correction. The Corinthians valued power, eloquence, and spiritual expression. Paul responds by saying that none of it matters without love.

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Cor. 13:1, ESV).

Even the most extraordinary spiritual experiences are reduced to empty noise if love is absent.

Walking the Passage

Paul begins with a sweeping dismantling of spiritual pride:

“If I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge… but have not love, I am nothing” (1 Cor. 13:2, ESV).

Not less than something. Not diminished. Nothing.

This is where interpretation becomes unavoidable. Paul is not saying these things are unimportant. Prophecy, knowledge, faith, and generosity all matter. But he is saying they are not ultimate. Love is.

It is possible to look spiritually mature while at the same time being spiritually hollow.

Then Paul turns to what may be the most recognizable section of the chapter in verses 4 through 7. Fifteen distinct attributes in four verses. Fifteen ways love expresses itself in real, lived relationships.

These verses often function as a mirror, reflecting where we fall short. But there’s another way to read them. One that Traye highlighted and that has circulated in Christian teaching for years. Replace the word “love” with “Jesus.”

Jesus is patient.
Jesus is kind.
Jesus does not envy or boast.

This isn’t a stretch but a theological alignment. According to Scripture, “God is love” (1 John 4:8, ESV). So to define love is, in a real sense, to describe the character of Christ. Paul is not offering an abstract definition of love. He is describing a person.

To love well is to live like Jesus.

This reframes everything. Love is no longer just a feeling or even an action but a reflection of Christ’s presence in us.

A Fair Counter-Reading

It’s worth noting that some scholars caution against overly allegorizing this passage. Replacing “love” with “Jesus” can be helpful devotionally, but Paul’s immediate concern is communal ethics or how believers treat one another within the church.

In this reading, the focus remains horizontal. Patience, kindness, humility, and truthfulness are essential for sustaining Christian community. This perspective is important because it grounds the passage in real-world relationships, not just theological abstraction.

But the two readings are not mutually exclusive. If Jesus is the embodiment of love, then Christlike character is exactly what sustains healthy community. The vertical (our relationship with Christ) fuels the horizontal (our relationships with others).

The Turn

Traye made a statement that cut through the familiarity of the passage regarding our culture useing the word “love” so often that it has lost much of its meaning.

We say we love everything. From people to pizza to playlists. But Paul’s definition refuses to bend to convenience or emotion.

“Love never ends” (1 Cor. 13:8, ESV).

That’s not how modern culture tends to understand love. Today, love is often conditional, transactional, or driven by feeling. When emotions fade, love is assumed to fade with them.

But biblical love is different.

It is relational as it moves toward others.
It is outward as it seeks the good of another over self.
It endures as it persists even when feelings fluctuate.
And crucially, it is rooted in truth.

Paul makes this explicit when he states that love “rejoices with the truth” (1 Cor. 13:6, ESV).

This is where the tension often lies. In a culture that separates love from truth, Scripture insists they cannot be divided. Love without truth becomes sentimentality. Truth without love becomes harshness.

The gospel holds them together.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16, ESV).

The cross is both the ultimate act of love and the ultimate declaration of truth about sin, justice, and grace.

Song of the week: Wait for Me - Zach Williams

Zach Williams’ “Wait for Me” reads as both a personal prayer and a broader reflection on the rhythms of faith, opening with the disarmingly simple line, “Hey God, it’s me.” That introduction sets the tone for a song grounded in honesty. One that mirrors the lived experience of believers navigating both spiritual highs and the opposite lows.

In recent weeks, that emotional range has felt especially pronounced. Moments of joy have been matched by equally sharp lows, and like Williams describes, those valleys can create a perceived distance from God. The line, “I been lost a little while,” resonates on a personal level, capturing the unease that comes with even a brief sense of spiritual drift. It’s a feeling marked by guilt and self-awareness. An acknowledgment of straying, however temporarily.

Yet the song doesn’t linger in that tension. Instead, its chorus pronounces the narrative with a sense of steady reassurance. “You wait for me. You keep on holdin’ on. But when I just can’t let go you wait for me.” Williams points to a consistent, unchanging presence of God. One that remains even when faith feels inconsistent. That message carries particular weight in moments when it’s easiest to forget it.

For me, “Wait for Me” functions as more than just a listening experience. It becomes a reset point. When the feeling of having “taken the long way home” sets in, the song serves as a reminder that God’s posture hasn’t changed. The persistence of that presence described here as patient and open offers a counterbalance to the internal sense of distance. In that way, Williams’ track bridges the gap between personal struggle and enduring assurance, grounding its message in both lived experience and faith.

Carry It Into the Week

As Easter approaches, the call of 1 Corinthians 13 becomes more than reflection, it becomes an invitation. Not to feel more loving. Not to appear more loving.

But to become people shaped by the love of Christ.

That kind of love doesn’t seek recognition. It doesn’t keep score. It doesn’t operate for personal gain or social standing.

It looks like patience when frustration would be easier.
It looks like truth spoken with grace.
It looks like choosing others when self would be more convenient.

And ultimately, it looks like Jesus. Because if Paul is right, then the standard is unavoidable:

“If I do anything, but have not love, I gain nothing” (1 Cor. 13:3, ESV).

Or, as this week’s message reframed it. If we do anything, but do not have Jesus, it is nothing.

Week in Reflection

What might have otherwise passed as an ordinary week took on a deeper significance through the lens of faith, revealing how meaningful the everyday can become when viewed with intention. The most notable moment came not from a structured Bible study, but from its absence. Instead of gathering in a formal setting, my Bible study shared a simple meal. Hamburgers and brats on the grill, complemented by side salads and homemade desserts.

It was a shift in format for sure, but in many ways, the informal setting created space for something equally important, and that’s connection. There are times when it’s easy to feel as though relationships within a Bible study remain confined to church-centered conversations. This gathering challenged that notion. Around the gathering, conversations moved beyond scripture and into shared interests and everyday life.

I found myself in conversations about cats and photography. Topics that might seem small on the surface, but carried a quiet significance. These moments offered a chance to better understand the people I regularly sit beside, whether by going deeper with those I know or simply beginning a conversation with someone I don’t often speak with. It was a reminder that community isn’t built solely through structured study, but also through the seemingly mundane interactions that help form genuine relationships.

That’s not to diminish the importance of connecting through faith as it remains central to a gospel community. But living in community, as we’re called to do, extends beyond the walls of a study or the bounds of a lesson. It’s found in shared meals, common interests, and the willingness to engage with one another in all aspects of life.

In the end, the evening served as a quiet but powerful reminder that God often works through the ordinary, placing the right people in our lives at the right time. And sometimes, it’s in those unstructured, everyday moments where the foundation of true community is most clearly built.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Connection Church in Sioux Falls is a gospel-centered community committed to helping people follow Jesus through authentic relationships, biblical teaching, and everyday mission. Rooted in historic Christian belief and aligned with gospel renewal movements, the church exists to see lives transformed by Jesus. Learn more: https://siouxfallsconnection.com/who-we-are

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: One Body, No Spare Parts: Rediscovering the Church in 1 Corinthians 12

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, March 15, 2026.

A blizzard has a way of stripping things down to essentials. Roads close. Buildings empty. Plans dissolve. And yet, as Jonathan reminded us at the start of his sermon. The church is not a place. It’s a people.

That truth isn’t sentimental but it’s biblical. When the gathered body is scattered by weather, illness, or circumstance, the church doesn’t cease to exist. It adapts, because its foundation isn’t geography but identity. In a week when screens replaced pews, the question became sharper. What actually makes the church the church?

The apostle Paul answers that question with precision in 1 Corinthians 12. His answer is both deeply theological and uncomfortably practical. The church is a Spirit-formed body where every member matters, every gift is given, and no one stands alone.

The World Behind the Text

The church in Corinth was gifted but fractured. Spiritually active, yet relationally divided. They prized visible, dramatic expressions of spirituality and ranked one another accordingly. Some gifts were celebrated while others were sidelined.

Paul writes into that tension with intentionality. He doesn’t downplay spiritual gifts. He elevates them. But he reframes their purpose entirely.

He begins with a line that draws a boundary around true spirituality:

“No one speaking in the Spirit of God ever says ‘Jesus is accursed!’ and no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except in the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3, ESV).

This is not merely a doctrinal statement, it’s a diagnostic one. In a world filled with competing spiritual claims, Paul anchors authenticity in allegiance to Jesus as Lord. The Spirit does not exist to draw attention to experiences, personalities, or power. The Spirit glorifies God.

From there, Paul unfolds a Trinitarian framework:

“There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit… the same Lord… the same God” (1 Corinthians 12:4–6, ESV).

Diversity is not a flaw in the system but the system itself. The unity of God himself, Father, Son, and Spirit, grounds the diversity of the church. This is the make up of a gospel-shaped community. Different people, different gifts, one source, one purpose.

Walking the Passage

Paul moves from theology to embodiment with a single line that should reshape how we see ourselves:

“To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:7, ESV).

Every believer receives a gift. Not some. Not the “elite.” Each. And those gifts are not self-oriented but are for the common good. This cuts against two common instincts: insecurity (“I don’t belong”) and independence (“I don’t need anyone”). Paul dismantles both.

He then introduces one of the most enduring metaphors in the New Testament. The church as a body.

“For just as the body is one and has many members… so it is with Christ” (1 Corinthians 12:12, ESV).

This isn’t metaphor for metaphor’s sake but a redefinition of identity. To belong to Christ is to belong to his body. There is no category for isolated Christianity here. Paul presses the point by imagining the absurd:

“If the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body” (1 Corinthians 12:15, ESV).

And again:

“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’” (1 Corinthians 12:21, ESV).

These are not hypothetical errors, they are lived ones.

• “I don’t belong” is the voice of comparison.

• “I don’t need you” is the voice of contempt.

Both are lies that fracture the body. Paul’s vision is radically interdependent. The overlooked are indispensable. The visible are not superior. God has arranged the body intentionally:

“God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose” (1 Corinthians 12:18, ESV).

This means your placement is not accidental. Your wiring is not random. Your presence in the body is purposeful.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some traditions interpret 1 Corinthians 12 primarily as a catalog of miraculous gifts, including tongues, prophecy, or healing, and build entire frameworks around identifying and activating those specific expressions.

That reading rightly takes the supernatural work of the Spirit seriously. Scripture does affirm that the Spirit empowers believers in dynamic ways. However, Paul’s emphasis in this chapter is not on elevating particular gifts but on equalizing their importance within the body. The thrust of the passage is communal, not individualistic. The gifts matter but the body matters more.

Any reading that leads to hierarchy, isolation, or self-promotion runs against the grain of Paul’s argument.

The Turn

If the church is a body, then the question shifts from “What do I have?” to “Who needs what I’ve been given?”

Jonathan’s challenge lands with his conviction to start needing each other.

That sounds simple, but it cuts deep. Needing others requires humility. It requires admitting limitations. It means receiving correction, encouragement, and help from unexpected places.

It also means rejecting comparison. The “I don’t belong here” narrative dissolves when we remember that we are all made in the image of God (see Genesis 1:27) and placed intentionally within the body of Christ.

And it means rejecting self-sufficiency. The Christian life was never designed to be a solo journey. You can start alone but you won’t last long that way.

This is where gospel, community, and mission intersect:

• Gospel: Jesus is Lord, not us. Our identity is received, not achieved.

• Community: We are bound together as one body, dependent on one another.

• Mission: Our gifts are given not for visibility, but for building up others.

The Spirit’s work is always directional. It moves us toward Jesus and toward each other.

Song of the week: Have Your Way - Katy Nichole

In recent weeks, the message of this song by Katy Nichole has begun to resonate more deeply in my own life. Time and again, moments when I tried to map out my own plans were met with unexpected turns that ultimately revealed something better than what I had imagined. Situations that initially caused frustration or disappointment have often ended up serving a larger purpose, even if that purpose wasn’t immediately clear.

The song’s chorus captures that realization with peaceful clarity, “Lord have your way every time. Cause I know your plans are better than mine.” It’s a line that reflects a familiar tension for many people of faith. The desire to control the direction of our lives while learning to trust a plan that extends beyond our own understanding.

For Christians, myself includedthe journey of following Jesus often involves moments of humility like these. What feels like a setback can later reveal itself as guidance. Even when the final destination remains the same, the road taken to get there can look very different from what was first imagined.

That difference in path, however, is rarely without purpose. The experiences, challenges, and detours encountered along the way often shape faith in ways that can only be understood in hindsight. In that sense, the song serves as both a reflection and a reminder: trusting God’s plan does not always make the journey easier, but it frequently reveals that His way was better all along.

Carry It Into the Week

So what does this look like when the storm passes and the rhythms resume?

First, refuse comparison. When you feel the pull to measure yourself against others, return to the truth that Paul provides. “To each is given.” Your role is not to replicate someone else’s gift but to steward your own.

Second, practice DEpendence. Ask for help. Invite input. Let someone speak into your life even when it’s uncomfortable.

Third, engage the body intentionally. Don’t drift on the edges. Join a community where you are known, challenged, and encouraged.

Fourth, aim your gifts outward. Whatever God has given you, whether it be time, encouragement, leadership, or creativity, use it to build others up.

And finally, test everything by its trajectory. Does it lead you to confess “Jesus is Lord”? Does it deepen your connection to his people? If not, it may not be the Spirit at work.

Week in Reflection

As mentioned above, an untimely blizzard swept through Sioux Falls this week, forcing churches across the area to cancel in-person worship services. But the weather doesn’t stop the Lord. While the weather kept congregations out of their sanctuaries, it served as a reminder of how much the modern church has changed. Technology now allows believers to gather digitally when circumstances prevent them from meeting face to face.

Yet that convenience carries a tension. Online services can become an easy substitute for true community. The author of Hebrews reminds believers not to neglect meeting together, emphasizing the importance of shared worship and fellowship. While I was grateful for the opportunity to participate online this week, it also reinforced how different the experience feels compared to sitting among fellow believers in a church pew.

There is something powerful about corporate worship that simply cannot be replicated in a living room. The collective voices, the shared prayers, and the presence of a gathered community create a sense of awe that is difficult to capture alone. For those who may have grown comfortable watching services from home, perhaps this week can serve as an encouragement to take that next step and walk back through the church doors. The experience of worshipping together is unlike anything else.

The week also prompted reflection on God’s timing and the way He uses the gifts He places in our lives. As a teenager in high school, photography was one of my greatest passions. There was something special about capturing a moment and preserving it in a single frame. A memory that could last indefinitely.

But when college presented obstacles that prevented me from pursuing a photography degree, I pivoted to finance, another interest of mine. What once felt like a closed door now looks more like a detour. Two decades later, God has brought that original passion back into focus. Photography has once again become part of my journey, and the early steps of returning to it have been both exciting and encouraging. Seeing how this path has begun to unfold leaves me eager to discover where God will lead it next.

For those interested in following along on that journey, updates and work can be found on Facebook and Instagram under Life With Glanzer Photography. But above all, it is a reminder that the gifts God places within us are never wasted, or lost. Even when they seem dormant for years, He has a way of bringing them back at exactly the right time.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Connection Church in Sioux Falls is a gospel-centered community committed to helping people follow Jesus through authentic relationships, biblical teaching, and everyday mission. Rooted in historic Christian belief and aligned with gospel renewal movements, the church exists to see lives transformed by Jesus. Learn more: https://siouxfallsconnection.com/who-we-are

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection:

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, March 8, 2026.

Before the Table: Why Paul Talks About Glory Before the Lord’s Supper

March arrives quietly but carries weight in the church calendar. The season of Lent has begun, the slow march toward Easter already underway. At Connection Church this week, Jonathan walked us through the entirety of 1 Corinthians 11, though our focus lingered primarily on verses 2–16.

That might sound surprising given how the chapter concludes with Paul’s famous teaching on the Lord’s Supper. Yet the reason for pausing before those verses was simple. Communion has been part of our weekly rhythm throughout Lent. Those words echo regularly in our liturgy. Instead, we turned our attention to a section of Scripture that many modern readers find more confusing, if not uncomfortable as Paul discusses head coverings, honor, and gender distinctions in the church.

At first glance, the passage seems worlds away from life in 2026. But as with much of Scripture, the cultural details are not the final destination. They are the doorway to something deeper. Paul is ultimately asking a question that every generation must answer. How do we reflect the glory of God in the way we live and worship?

The World Behind the Text

To understand Paul’s words, we have to step briefly into the world of Corinth, a thriving and chaotic port city in the first century Roman Empire. The church there was young, diverse, and frequently struggling to reconcile the gospel with the surrounding culture.

Public symbols mattered in that world.

Head coverings, especially for women, communicated modesty, honor, and marital faithfulness. A woman appearing in public worship without one could be interpreted as rejecting social norms or even signaling sexual availability. Likewise, men covering their heads in certain contexts could blur cultural expectations about masculine honor. So when Paul addresses these practices, he isn’t issuing an arbitrary dress code. He’s addressing how believers present themselves in worship and how their behavior reflects, or distorts, the gospel.

His argument begins with a statement about order:

“But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God.” — 1 Corinthians 11:3 (ESV)

This verse has sparked centuries of debate. Yet Paul quickly grounds the conversation in something deeper than cultural expectations. Creation itself.

He reaches all the way back to the opening chapter of the Bible:

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” — Genesis 1:27 (ESV)

From the beginning, both men and women bear God’s image. Both reflect His glory. Both are essential to His design.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Walking the Passage

Paul’s reasoning in this passage flows through three major ideas: creation, the fall, and redemption.

1. Creation: God’s Good Design

Genesis tells us humanity was created intentionally. Male and female together reflect God’s image and glory. Paul echoes this reality when he writes:

“For man was not made from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.” — 1 Corinthians 11:8–9 (ESV)

In our cultural moment, words like these can feel jarring. Yet Paul’s point is not about value or superiority. The same chapter later emphasizes mutual dependence:

“Nevertheless, in the Lord woman is not independent of man nor man of woman.” — 1 Corinthians 11:11 (ESV)

The message is clear that distinction does not mean inequality. Instead, it reveals a purposeful design meant to display God’s glory.

2. The Fall: Sin Distorts Everything

Paul’s teaching only makes sense within the broader biblical story. In Genesis 3, humanity’s rebellion against God fractures the harmony of creation. Sin twists relationships, distorts authority, and replaces worship with self-centeredness.

God confronts Adam and Eve after their disobedience:

“Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” — Genesis 3:11 (ESV)

From that moment forward, the image of God in humanity is still real but marred by sin.

The confusion surrounding identity, authority, and honor isn’t new. It’s part of the broken world we inhabit. Paul’s instructions to the Corinthians are therefore not merely about clothing. They are about restoring visible signs of God’s good order in a fallen world.

3. Redemption: The Cross Changes Everything

Yet Paul’s argument does not stop at creation or the fall. The entire letter to Corinth revolves around the redeeming work of Jesus Christ. At the cross, every human distinction that might elevate one person over another collapses.

Rich or poor. Influential or forgotten. Male or female. All stand equally in need of grace. As Paul wrote earlier in this letter:

“For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” — 1 Corinthians 1:18 (ESV)

The cross levels us. It reminds us that we bring nothing to God except our brokenness and still receive everything from Him in return.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some interpreters argue that Paul’s instructions about head coverings are entirely cultural and therefore irrelevant today. According to this perspective, the passage simply reflects ancient social customs and carries no ongoing application beyond a general call to respect cultural norms.

There is truth here. Few churches today require literal head coverings during worship. The cultural signals have changed dramatically since the first century. Yet many theologians caution against dismissing the passage altogether. Paul repeatedly grounds his reasoning not merely in culture but in creation order and theology.

In other words, while the symbol may change, the principle remains. Worship should visibly reflect humility before God and respect for His design.

The Turn

Jonathan framed the passage in a way that cut through much of the cultural distance. The distinctions Paul describes are not burdens. They are gifts. God gives each person unique roles, opportunities, and identities. Not so we can boast in them, but so we can reflect His glory through them.

The danger Paul warns against is not merely breaking cultural norms. It is something deeper. Turning God’s gifts into personal trophies.

We can misuse what God has given us by flaunting it for attention. But we can also dishonor God by ignoring those gifts entirely by burying them out of fear, comfort, or apathy.

Both responses miss the point.

The purpose of our lives is not self-expression for its own sake. It is worship. And worship means pointing beyond ourselves.

“There is no rich or poor on the cross. There is only God taking the place we deserve.”

When we remember that truth, the question shifts. Instead of asking, “What do I want to do with my life?” We begin asking, “How can my life point to the glory of God?”

Song of the week: No Matter What - Jordan St. Cyr

Jordan St. Cyr’s “No Matter What” is the kind of song that quietly builds its strength through a simple but deeply resonant message. God’s presence is not conditional. It remains steady through every high and low that life brings.

The song functions as both testimony and reassurance. St. Cyr’s lyrics revolve around a central promise. That regardless of circumstance, success, failure, doubt, or fear, God’s faithfulness does not waver. The phrasing is straightforward and accessible, but that simplicity is what allows the message to land with clarity.

For me, that message isn’t theoretical. It’s personal.

Life has a way of shifting quickly. Plans change, unexpected problems appear, and moments that seem frustrating or disappointing can arrive without warning. In those moments, it’s easy to feel as though things are spiraling beyond control. Yet the theme at the heart of “No Matter What” reflects something I’ve experienced repeatedly. God’s presence doesn’t disappear when life becomes unpredictable.

The lyrics echo a truth that many believers recognize but often need to be reminded of. God isn’t present only during the victories or the easy seasons. He’s there in the setbacks, the quiet frustrations, and the moments when the path forward feels unclear. Listening to the song, I’m reminded of how often I’ve seen that play out in my own life. Situations that initially looked like problems later revealed themselves as moments of grace. Unexpected obstacles became reminders that God was still guiding my story, even when I couldn’t immediately see the purpose.

That’s where St. Cyr’s songwriting stands out. Rather than presenting faith as a guarantee that life will always go smoothly, the song frames faith as the assurance that God remains present regardless of how circumstances unfold. Ultimately, “No Matter What” lands not as a dramatic declaration but as a steady reminder that God’s faithfulness isn’t dependent on how well life is going. His presence doesn’t fade when circumstances change.

For listeners who have walked through seasons of uncertainty, and for anyone who has seen God quietly working through the unexpected, the message feels less like a lyric and more like truth.

And that’s what makes the song resonate. It doesn’t just speak about faith. It reflects the moments where faith becomes visible in hindsight, revealing that through every turn, planned or unplanned, God was there all along.

Carry It Into the Week

As Lent continues, we are intentionally slowing down to remember what leads us to Easter.

The cross.

The suffering of Christ. The staggering grace that meets us in our failure. Paul’s difficult passage in 1 Corinthians ultimately pushes us toward the same reflection.

If we truly bear God’s image, then our lives should reflect Him. That means regularly repenting of two common temptations:

• Abusing the gifts God has given us for our own recognition.
  

• Ignoring those gifts because comfort feels easier than obedience.

The Christian life is not designed for coasting. It is designed for worship. And worship happens everywhere. At work, in relationships, in church gatherings, and in quiet moments when no one else is watching.

Our lives become mirrors.

The question is simply what they reflect.

“We are not here to coast through life. We are here to reflect the glory of God.”

As Easter approaches, Paul’s words invite us to examine ourselves. Are we living in a way that points to Christ or merely to ourselves? I hope this week you reflect on this question and act upon it with the glory of God in mind.

Week in Reflection

As March settles in and the annual loss of an hour of sleep from the start of Daylight Savings Time still lingering, the rhythm of the week became a reminder that even small disruptions can invite reflection. Rather than simply feeling the fatigue of the time change, the moment offered an opportunity to slow down, rest, and seek renewed strength in God while pressing forward into the week ahead.

This week included another stretch of highway miles, this time traveling to Omaha for a photography contract. The trip carried more than just professional expectations. It also held the hope of a meaningful conversation. An opportunity to speak with a friend and his wife about attending my Bible study and joining me for Sunday service.

But as often happens, carefully laid plans shifted.

Workplace injuries and a sick child meant the trip ultimately became a solo journey. The missed opportunity for conversation was initially discouraging. Yet the change also served as a quiet reminder of the familiar truth that while we can plan each detail with intention, circumstances often unfold differently.

Moments like this highlight a tension many people of faith recognize. Plans are made with purpose, but outcomes do not always align with our own expectations. The reasons behind those shifts are rarely clear in the moment. What remains, however, is the belief that God’s plans extend beyond the limits of what any single plan we make might accomplish.

The week also marked a significant step forward professionally with the launch of a new business page for my photography and writing work. It felt like a leap of faith to put my work out into the world and to trust the process that follows.

Then something unexpected happened during the contract shoot. Someone asked if I photograph weddings!

For someone just beginning to build a photography profile, the question alone carried a surprising sense of excitement. Whether the inquiry leads anywhere remains to be seen, but the moment itself felt like an early affirmation that the journey God has me on is moving in the right direction.

For now, the next step is simple: continue the work, keep the faith, and see where the road leads next.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: The Table of the Lord or the Table of Demons? Paul’s Stark Choice

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, March 1, 2026.

It’s hard to believe we are already in March. At Connection Church in Sioux Falls, our walk through 1 Corinthians continues, and this week Pastor Jonathan led us into 1 Corinthians 10:14–11:1. The passage continues the apostle Paul’s response to questions the Corinthian believers had sent him in a letter. Questions about freedom, culture, and what faithfulness to Christ actually looks like in everyday life.

Paul opens with a command that lands with urgency.

“Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry.” 1 Corinthians 10:14 (ESV)

The word flee matters. It doesn’t describe a casual step aside or a quiet avoidance. It evokes the image of someone running for their life from something that is actively chasing them.

This Scripture drew a compelling parallel from the Old Testament. When Joseph was tempted by Potiphar’s wife, he didn’t linger, debate, or negotiate. Genesis 39:12 tells us plainly that “he left his garment in her hand and fled and got out of the house.”

Joseph ran because temptation was not neutral territory. Paul suggests idolatry functions the same way. It isn’t merely a philosophical mistake; it’s a spiritual force that competes for allegiance. And if that sounds dramatic, it’s because Paul intends it to be.

The World Behind the Text

To modern readers, Paul’s warning may initially feel distant. We don’t generally encounter temples filled with carved statues where people bow down in worship.

But in first-century Corinth, idolatry was woven into daily life. The city was filled with temples dedicated to Greek and Roman gods. Religious festivals included sacrifices, communal meals, and social gatherings. Participation wasn’t just religious, it was social, economic, and cultural.

To refuse these gatherings could mean isolation or even financial loss.

This is why Paul’s instruction is so careful. Earlier in the chapter he reminds the church that idols themselves are nothing. Merely objects. But participation in idol worship isn’t neutral because spiritual realities stand behind it. Paul writes:

“The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?” 1 Corinthians 10:16 (ESV)

In other words, worship always involves participation. It forms allegiance.

To share the Lord’s Supper is to declare loyalty to Christ. To share in pagan sacrificial meals was to signal loyalty elsewhere. So Paul delivers a stark conclusion.

“You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons. You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons.” 1 Corinthians 10:21 (ESV)

The language is deliberately sharp. Christianity is not a hybrid system where Christ is simply added to existing loyalties. The gospel demands a decisive allegiance.

Walking the Passage

Paul’s logic unfolds with remarkable clarity. First, he calls believers to run from idolatry. Not manage it. Not flirt with it. Flee. Second, he explains why. Christian worship isn’t merely symbolic. The Lord’s Supper represents communion with Christ and unity with the body of believers.

“Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.” 1 Corinthians 10:17 (ESV)

To take communion is to declare where you belong. This is why Paul insists believers cannot sit at two tables. Worship shapes identity. Participation forms loyalty. The imagery is powerful. A table represents fellowship, belonging, and shared life. When Paul speaks of “the table of the Lord,” he is describing the place where believers gather under Christ’s grace.

But the rival table, the one associated with idolatry, represents allegiance to other powers. Paul’s point is simple. You cannot belong fully to two opposing kingdoms.

Jesus taught the same principle during the Sermon on the Mount:

“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other.” Matthew 6:24 (ESV)

Both Jesus and Paul confront the same illusion that divided loyalty is sustainable.

It isn’t.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers interpret Paul’s warning more narrowly. In this view, the apostle is addressing a specific cultural situation in Corinth rather than making a broader theological statement about idols in every age.

After all, believers today rarely attend pagan temple feasts. This reading rightly reminds us that context matters. Paul was indeed speaking to a church embedded in a particular Greco-Roman environment. Yet Paul’s argument reaches deeper than cultural practice. He frames the issue in terms of spiritual allegiance, not merely social participation. His warning that idolatrous practices involve communion with demonic forces suggests the principle extends beyond ancient temples.

In other words, the specific forms may change but the underlying danger remains.

The Turn

Here’s where Paul’s words collide with modern life. Most of us do not kneel before statues. But idols have not disappeared, they’ve simply evolved. In the modern world, idols often appear as good things elevated to ultimate things: success, political power, financial security, influence, reputation, even personal autonomy.

None of these are inherently sinful. But when they begin to command ultimate loyalty, they function exactly like the idols Paul warned about. An idol is anything that captures the devotion that rightly belongs to God.

Paul anticipates a question that had been circulating in Corinth.

“All things are lawful,” but not all things are helpful. 1 Corinthians 10:23 (ESV)

Christian freedom is real. Believers are not bound by the ceremonial regulations of the old covenant or the superstitions of pagan religion. But freedom has a purpose.

Paul continues.

“Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.” 1 Corinthians 10:24 (ESV)

Freedom in Christ is not permission for self-indulgence. It’s a gift meant to build others up. This reorients the entire conversation. Instead of asking, “Am I allowed to do this?” the Christian asks, “Does this lead me, and more importantly, others, toward Jesus?”

Paul’s conclusion sharpens the point even further.

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 (ESV)

The Christian life is not compartmentalized. Faith does not belong only to Sunday mornings. Every action, every decision, every allegiance is meant to reflect the glory of God.

Song of the week: First Things First - Consumed by Fire

In an age defined by accumulation. More money, more recognition, Consumed by Fire offers a pointed countercultural challenge in their song First Things First.

The track opens not with a declaration, but with a question, “What would I do if they all disappeared?” It’s a lyric that lands with uncomfortable clarity. In a society that equates identity with possessions and platform, the hypothetical loss of everything, through theft, disaster, fire, or flood, feels catastrophic. But the band presses deeper. If what you own vanished overnight, would your life feel ruined, or merely reset?

The song frames that tension as a spiritual litmus test. Material security, status, and even carefully constructed reputations are, by nature, temporary. They can be gained and lost in a moment. The band contrasts that fragility with the eternal nature of God. An eternal anchor in a culture obsessed with the immediate. Rather than moralizing, the song functions as a recalibration. Its message is direct and truth filled. Fulfillment cannot be manufactured through accumulation. The search for satisfaction in worldly success inevitably leaves a gap. What the song describes as a longing that cannot be filled by achievement or applause.

The chorus becomes both confession and commitment: “I seek Your will, not my own. Surrender all my wants to You. Keep the first thing first.” It is less a poetic flourish than a daily directive. An invitation to reorder priorities in a way that runs counter to prevailing cultural instincts.

In that sense, the song is not simply worship music. It is commentary. It challenges listeners to evaluate what truly defines them. What remains when everything else falls away? I pray that everyone would find the truth. The answer. Jesus.

Carry It Into the Week

Paul ends this section with a bold invitation.

“Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” 1 Corinthians 11:1 (ESV)

For Paul, discipleship is not abstract theology. It’s lived example. The apostle consistently laid down his own rights so that others might encounter the gospel. His freedom became a tool for mission, not self-expression.

This passage leaves us with a searching question. Which table are we actually sitting at? Some idols are obvious. Others are subtle.

A career can become a table.
A political identity can become a table.
Even reputation or approval can become a table.

None of these things promise what the table of Jesus offers. At the Lord’s table, the host is not demanding something from us. He is giving everything. Christ offers forgiveness instead of condemnation, belonging instead of isolation, and eternal life instead of temporary status.

That’s why Paul’s warning ultimately carries hope. The invitation remains open.

Leave the other tables.

Come sit with Jesus.

Week in Reflection

This week unfolded in a blur of highway miles, stage lights, and spiritual reflection.

A four-hour drive carried me from Sioux Falls to Minneapolis for back-to-back nights of live music. An itinerary that felt manageable on paper, if ambitious in practice. The lineup featured some of my favorite bands, and the experience delivered what shows are designed to provide: immersive visuals, chest-rattling sound, and the unspoken camaraderie that forms between strangers pressed shoulder to shoulder in a sea of people.

The concerts themselves were electric. Production value met performance precision, and the shared energy of thousands of fans created a temporary community bound by lyrics and light cues. For a few hours each night, the outside world dimmed. But spectacle comes at a cost.

Two consecutive nights on my feet proved to be a sharper physical test than anticipated. The reality of no longer being 20 announces itself most clearly the morning after, or, in this case, during the 12-minute walk back to the hotel following the second show. What should have been routine felt punishing. Each step carried a reminder that enthusiasm does not cancel out wear and tear.

And yet, it was in that discomfort that a quieter story unfolded. The walk, though painful, was completed. Strength came when it was needed. In a week defined by noise and motion, reliance on God’s provision became less abstract and more immediate. The contrast continued the next morning. In the hotel breakfast area, an environment typically filled with mainstream pop playlists, worship music blended seamlessly with Top 40 hits. It was a small detail that could easily be overlooked, but to me, was striking in its timing. In a largely secular public space, faith surfaced in an ordinary moment over coffee and an omelet.

The morning then took an unexpected turn when I returned to my car and discovered a flat tire. The inconvenience was immediate, and for a moment anger boiled up. But that reaction quickly gave way to a different perspective. The tire could just as easily have failed while traveling 80 miles per hour on the interstate. Instead, by what I can only describe as God’s grace, it happened while the car was parked, avoiding what could have been a far more dangerous situation. With that realization, the inconvenience felt minor by comparison. A quick stop at a nearby tire shop resulted in a fast and inexpensive patch, and before long I was back on the road and continuing the trip.

By the time I made the return drive home, voice strained, body sore, anger dissipated, but energy restored, the week had taken on a clearer narrative arc. What began as a concert excursion ended as a reminder of dependence on God. Physical limits acknowledged, spiritual strength renewed.

The weekend concluded not with encore lights but with community. The weekly Bible study and a dinner supporting a local ministry Cru. After the decibels faded, the quieter work of faith continued. Travel and concerts filled the calendar. But what defined the week was something less visible. The steady grace that carried me through it.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Run to Win: Lent, the Long Obedience, and the Prize That Doesn’t Perish

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, February 22, 2026.

As Lent begins, Paul’s athletic metaphor in 1 Corinthians 9–10 confronts our casual discipleship. The prize is eternal, so why do we train like it’s optional?

The first week of Lent always feels like stepping onto a track at dawn. Breath visible in the cold, the lane stretching forward, quiet but demanding. For forty days, the Church remembers the road to Good Friday and the blazing shock of Easter Sunday. The crucified and risen Christ who has conquered death.

This year, as we gathered at Connection Church in Sioux Falls, our path through 1 Corinthians brought us to a passage that could not have been more fitting for the season, 1 Corinthians 9:24 through 10:13. Paul reaches for the language of athletes. Discipline, training, and finishing to describe the Christian life.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.” (vs. 24, ESV).

The image is simple and arresting. If athletes train relentlessly for a perishable wreath/medal, how much more should we labor for a crown that does not fade?

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was no stranger to competition. Just a short distance from the city were the Isthmian Games, second only to the Olympics in prestige. Competitors trained for years for a wreath of pine. Glory that wilted within days. When Paul writes to the church in Corinth, he isn’t reaching for a random metaphor. He is speaking the cultural language of sweat and spectacle. His readers knew what it meant to discipline the body, to forgo indulgence, to aim for victory. But Paul reframes the stadium. The real arena is fidelity to Christ. The real prize is not applause but eternity.

And then, in chapter 10, he does something unexpected. He pivots from athletics to Israel’s wilderness story. He reminds them of the Exodus, of people who began well. “All our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through the sea.” (ESV).

They had miraculous beginnings. They experienced deliverance. They were, as Paul says, “baptized unto Moses.” United to their covenant mediator. Yet most of that generation never entered the promised land.

The implication is sobering. A dramatic start does not guarantee a faithful finish.

Walking the Passage

Paul structures his warning carefully. First, he calls believers to intentional effort. “Every athlete exercises self-control in all things” (ESV). The word points to self-control, restraint, focused training. Christianity is not accidental. It is not passive drift. It is purposeful pursuit.

Then comes the unsettling line, “But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified” (ESV).

Paul is not undermining justification by faith. Throughout Romans and Galatians, he is emphatic that salvation rests on Christ’s finished work, not human merit. Rather, he is warning against presumption. The Gospel that saves also transforms. Faith that endures produces obedience.

Chapter 10 drives the point home through four wilderness failures:

• Idolatry — Exodus 32: the golden calf, worshiping what their hands had made.

• Grumbling — Numbers 16: murmuring against God’s appointed leadership and provision.

• Testing the Lord — Numbers 21: demanding signs while doubting His goodness.

• Sexual immorality — Numbers 25: unfaithfulness entwined with false worship.

The second one feels almost trivial until we recognize what grumbling reveals. Complaints are rarely about circumstances alone. It exposes a heart suspicious of God’s character.

Paul’s conclusion is not despair but warning and hope. “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability (ESV).

Two truths hold together.

1. Confidence without vigilance is dangerous.

2. Temptation is never stronger than God’s faithfulness.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some interpret this passage as teaching that salvation can be easily lost through moral failure. Others read it as merely hypothetical, a rhetorical scare tactic.

A more careful reading, consistent with historic Christian orthodoxy affirmed in the Apostles’ Creed and Nicene Creed, sees Paul addressing the visible covenant community. Not everyone who begins the race inwardly belongs to Christ (cf. 1 John 2:19). The warning passages function as God’s means to preserve His people. They are guardrails, not contradictions of grace.

Application must be trauma-aware here. Tender consciences may hear this text and spiral into fear. But Paul anchors the warning in God’s faithfulness. The same God who calls us to run, supplies endurance.

The Turn

Lent sharpens Paul’s metaphor. Fasting. Repentance. Self-examination. These are not attempts to earn God’s love. They are training rhythms that reveal what we treasure.

Your effort is connected to your value of the prize.

Athletes wake before dawn because they believe the medal matters. They restrict their diets because victory matters. They endure pain because the podium matters.

What does our spiritual training say about what we believe matters?

If eternity with Christ is real, if the resurrection proclaimed at Easter is not metaphor but history, then participation alone cannot be the goal. The gospel calls us not to casual attendance but to cross-bearing allegiance.

And here the Connection Church framework clarifies the path:

• Gospel — We run not to secure salvation but because Christ has already secured it. His death and resurrection are our starting line.

• Community — Races are run in lanes, but the Christian life is never solitary. We exhort one another daily so that none may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness (Hebrews 3:13).

• Mission — We do not train for private trophies. We run so others might see Christ’s worth and join the race.

The devil does not need to trip those sitting in the stands. Resistance often intensifies when obedience deepens. James writes, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2). Not if—when. Trials are not proof of God’s absence. Often they are evidence of active allegiance.

Lent reminds us that suffering and temptation are not detours from the race. They are part of the course.

Song of the week: Outrun You - Band Reeves

The lyrics of this week’s featured song land with a heavy weight. So much so that it was nearly left off the list. Its message feels deeply personal, exposing struggles that are often easier to keep private. Yet that very vulnerability is what gives the song its strength.

At its core, the track confronts a difficult truth. That spiritual neutrality is an illusion. If a person is not intentionally moving toward Jesus, they are, in some way, drifting away. For some, that distance can take the form of obvious escapes to alcohol, sex, or any number of distractions designed to dull pain, even if only temporarily. The song gives voice to that restless pursuit.

Its defining line captures the tension succinctly, “Oh, no matter where my wandering heart ran to. I couldn’t outrun You, couldn’t outrun You.” The refrain reframes the narrative of failure and flight. Rather than depicting God as distant or waiting reluctantly at the finish line, it presents Him as relentlessly present. The message is clear and disarming. No matter how far someone believes they have strayed or how significant their mistakes may feel, God’s pursuit is not hindered. The response required is not perfection, but surrender. The promise echoed in Scripture remains steady. He will never leave nor forsake those who call on Him.

In that truth, the song finds both its honesty and its hope.

Carry It Into the Week

So how do we run to win?

1. Examine your idols. What competes with Christ for ultimate loyalty?

2. Practice embodied discipline. Consider fasting. Not as spectacle but as training.

3. Refuse to grumble. Replace complaint with gratitude as an act of rebellion against unbelief.

4. Stay in community. Lone runners collapse faster.

5. Remember the promise. “God is faithful.” The finish line is not a mirage.

The generation that left Egypt saw miracles yet perished in unbelief. But Caleb and Joshua endured. Not because they were flawless but because they trusted the promise-giving God. Lent is not about morbid introspection. It is about recalibrating our stride.

Easter is coming. Run accordingly.

Week in Reflection

After a couple of weeks sidelined by illness, this week marked a return to normal rhythms and none felt more significant than opening Scripture again with clarity and focus.

During the worst of the sickness, even simple concentration was difficult. Reading felt nearly impossible. That absence, however, underscored something easy to overlook in busier seasons. How deeply the soul depends on steady time with God. The disruption revealed just how essential that daily meditation had become to me. Reestablishing that routine has been both grounding and renewing. There is a distinct steadiness that comes from engaging regularly with the words God has given us. A recalibration of mind and spirit that is difficult to replicate anywhere else.

The takeaway from the week is simple but significant: start somewhere. Whether it’s a few verses in the morning or a brief moment of reflection before bed, consistency matters more than volume. Establishing even the smallest daily rhythm in God’s Word can yield lasting impact.

Scripture does not return void and neither does time spent in it.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

First, I want to apologize that there was no post last week. A bout of illness sidelined both my writing schedule and, if I’m honest, my motivation. Sitting down to produce Issue No. 15 last week simply wasn’t possible. Stepping away to recover was necessary, but not easy.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: The Anti-Karen Apostle: Why Paul Refused His Rights for the Gospel

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, February 15, 2026.

In 1 Corinthians 9:1–23, Paul makes a startling claim. Christians have real rights, yet love sometimes compels us not to use them. What if true freedom isn’t insisting on what’s ours, but surrendering it for the sake of eternity?

We know the stereotype. The viral clip. The raised voice demanding a manager because “I have rights.”

Jonathan began the sermon with that familiar caricature, the “Karen”, not to mock, but to surface a question we rarely ask. What does a Christian do with their rights?

The passage before us, 1 Corinthians 9:1–23, sits in the middle of Paul’s longer argument that began in chapter 8. There, he urged believers to limit their liberty for the sake of weaker consciences. Now, in chapter 9, Paul turns the spotlight on himself. If anyone had rights, it was him. And yet, he chose not to use them.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was a Roman colony obsessed with status, patronage, and public recognition. Traveling teachers and philosophers often expected financial support. Compensation signaled credibility. Refusing payment could look suspicious or foolish.

Paul insists he has every right to material support as an apostle:

“Who serves as a soldier at his own expense?” (1 Cor. 9:7, ESV)

He appeals to common sense, to the Law of Moses, and to temple practice. Even Jesus affirmed that “the laborer deserves his wages” (cf. Luke 10:7). In other words, Paul is not anti-rights. He defends them robustly.

But then comes the turn:

“Nevertheless we have not used this power; but suffer all things, lest we should hinder the gospel of Christ.” (1 Cor. 9:12, KJV)

The word translated “hinder” carries the sense of erecting an obstacle, like a barricade in the road. In a city suspicious of itinerant speakers and accustomed to religious charlatans, Paul refuses financial support so no one can accuse him of preaching for profit. That is profoundly countercultural.

Walking the Passage

James centered the sermon on verse 31 because it supplies the theological spine of the passage. If the world’s current form is fading, then wisdom looks different.

Contentment, Paul implies, cannot be rooted in circumstances that change. Marriage changes. Seasons change. Desires change. Even our best-laid plans eventually loosen their grip.

James connected this truth to the wider witness of Scripture. James 1:2–3 calls believers to “count it all joy” when trials come. Not because suffering is good, but because God uses it to form something enduring. Likewise, Colossians 3:2 urges believers to set their minds “on things above, not on earthly things.”

Contentment, then, is not achieved by fixing everything that feels unfinished in our lives. It is found by anchoring ourselves to someone who does not move. Paul is not commanding emotional detachment from life. He is calling for spiritual clarity about what deserves our ultimate devotion.

A Fair Counter-Reading

We should pause here. Is Paul establishing a universal command that pastors must refuse pay? Or that Christians should never assert their rights?

No.

Elsewhere, Paul defends the legitimacy of compensation for ministry (1 Tim. 5:17–18). In fact, in other contexts he receives support (Phil. 4:14–18). His point is not that rights are wrong, but that rights are subordinate to love.

We must also be trauma-aware in application. Some Christians have been taught to suppress boundaries in unhealthy or abusive contexts “for the Gospel.” That is not Paul’s argument. He is voluntarily relinquishing rights for mission, not enabling harm or injustice. Christian surrender is never coercion. Paul’s model assumes agency, wisdom, and love, not self-erasure.

The Turn

If Paul is the anti-Karen apostle, Jesus is the anti-Karen King.

Paul’s ethic echoes the deeper pattern of Christ Himself. Though equal with God, Jesus “took the form of a servant” (Phil. 2:7, ESV). The eternal Son did not cling to divine privilege. He entered our world as an infant, dependent, vulnerable, needing His diaper changed.

Throughout His ministry, He refused to leverage power for self-protection. He did not call down angels in Gethsemane. He endured injustice before Pilate. He absorbed shame at the cross. Not because He lacked rights. But because love demanded redemption.

In the language of the historic creeds, the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed, Christ is “true God from true God,” and yet He “for us and for our salvation came down from heaven.”

That is the pattern.

Gospel → Community → Mission.

The Gospel: Christ relinquished His rights to save us.
Community: We mirror that humility toward one another.
Mission: We lay down preferences so others can see Jesus clearly.

Paul’s climactic line makes it plain:

“I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessing.” (1 Cor. 9:23, ESV)

All things. Not some. All.

If following Christ never costs us anything, comfort, pride, time, money, reputation, have we truly centered our lives on Him?

Rights are real. The world understands that. But the world does not understand surrender.

Song of the week: The Love I Have For You - Colton Dixon

I’ve had a deep appreciation for Colton Dixon ever since I watched him take the stage at Lifelight in September 2023. What could have been a forgettable night quickly became a defining one. Early in his set, a technical malfunction forced his entire band offstage. The momentum stalled. The energy dipped. For a moment, it seemed as though the show might simply end there. Instead of walking off, Dixon stayed. Alone with his keyboard, he stripped the production back and delivered an intimate, impromptu set that turned a logistical setback into a powerful moment of worship. It was raw, unpolished and, in many ways, more impactful than a flawless performance could have been.

That same sincerity is evident in this particular song, where Dixon anchors his message in one of Scripture’s most enduring promises: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” The lyrics echo that assurance with striking clarity: “You told me once, you told me twice, you’ll say it again a thousand times. With the love I have for you, ain’t a mountain you can’t move, in the dark I’ll be the light, in the fight I’m by your side.”

Rather than offering vague inspiration, the song directly confronts the fear many believers quietly wrestle with. The idea that they may have gone too far, failed too often, or strayed too much to still be loved by God. Dixon’s chorus pushes back against that doubt, emphasizing a love that does not waver with circumstance or human weakness. In a culture quick to measure worth by performance and perfection, the reminder is countercultural. God’s love is not conditional. It is persistent. It is patient. It is present.

For anyone feeling distant, discouraged or unseen, this song serves less as entertainment and more as reassurance. The promise remains unchanged, no failure is final, no valley too deep, no darkness too thick for a love that refuses to let go.

Carry It Into the Week

So what does this look like in 2026?

It might mean:

• Choosing patience over public outrage.

• Refusing to win an argument so you can win a hearing.

• Limiting a freedom if it confuses or wounds a weaker conscience.

• Serving in obscurity with no recognition.

• Enduring inconvenience because eternity outweighs preference.

This is not performative humility. It is Gospel calculus.

When Christ becomes your gravitational center, the math changes. Eternity outweighs entitlement. Love outruns liberty. And in that reordering, freedom deepens, not diminishes.

Because the freest person in the world is not the one who demands every right, but the one who is so secure in Christ that he can lay them down.

Week in Reflection

For those of us who thrive on routine, disruption can feel disproportionately heavy. Over the past week, I’ve been working to reestablish normal rhythms. The lapse affected more than just publishing. My reading plan, both personal and devotional, fell a full week behind. What is typically life-giving began to feel daunting, even burdensome. Catching up loomed larger than the reading itself. But in that tension came a needed reminder. Nowhere in Scripture does it say that finishing a “Bible in a Year” plan or never missing a daily devotion secures eternity. Those disciplines are deeply valuable. They anchor me in the Word and cultivate consistency. Yet salvation was never dependent on my streak counter. According to the gospel, Jesus has already accomplished what I could not. My role is not to achieve but to believe and to follow.

It’s a subtle but important distinction. Spiritual habits are tools of formation, not measures of worthiness. When they become metrics for self-evaluation, they quietly shift from grace to performance. If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by busyness or discouraged that you’re “not in the Word enough”, you’re not alone. The very desire to be present with God is evidence of the Spirit’s work. That longing matters. What doesn’t help is allowing guilt to crowd out grace.

Faith is not sustained by flawless consistency but by a faithful Savior.

Illness, unexpected seasons, and disrupted schedules will come. They do not disqualify us. Over time, the hope is that our desire for time with God continues to deepen, not out of obligation, but out of love. And when life interrupts our routines, we can trust that God is not keeping score. He provides the time in due season. We are called to provide the belief.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Called Where You Are: Paul’s Radical Reframing of Marriage, Singleness, and Faithfulness

Based on the sermon by James Swanson, Connection Church Sioux Falls, February 1, 2026.

In 1 Corinthians 7:25-40, Paul reframes marriage, singleness, and every season of life around a deeper question. Where does true contentment come from when everything else is temporary?

Every sermon has a moment when the room goes quiet, not because the preacher raised their voice, but because the question landed too close to home.

This week, as elder candidate James Swanson continued Connection Church’s journey through 1 Corinthians, he placed that kind of question before us. “What do you place your contentment in?”

It’s a deceptively simple question. We rarely answer it out loud, but we answer it every day with our time, our attention, our energy, and our anxiety. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 7:25-40 confront the assumptions we carry about marriage, singleness, and life stages, but underneath them all is a deeper diagnostic. What do you believe will finally satisfy you?

James didn’t leave the answer ambiguous. Contentment, he said plainly, belongs to Christ alone.

The World Behind the Text

Paul’s counsel about the unmarried and widowed often feels strange to modern readers. His tone can sound cautious, even pessimistic, about marriage. But that reaction usually misses the urgency shaping his words.

Writing to the church in Corinth, Paul is addressing a community living in tension. Social pressure, persecution, and moral confusion press in from every side. Into that moment, Paul introduces a perspective-altering truth:

“For the present form of this world is passing away” (1 Corinthians 7:31, ESV).

Paul isn’t dismissing creation. He’s naming reality. The structures we organize our lives around, status, relationships, security, comfort, are temporary. They matter, but they do not last. And when temporary things become ultimate things, they inevitably fail us.

This is why Paul speaks the way he does about marriage here. Marriage is a gift, not a necessity. Singleness is a calling, not a curse. Neither state provides the permanence our hearts are tempted to demand from them.

Walking the Passage

James centered the sermon on verse 31 because it supplies the theological spine of the passage. If the world’s current form is fading, then wisdom looks different.

Contentment, Paul implies, cannot be rooted in circumstances that change. Marriage changes. Seasons change. Desires change. Even our best-laid plans eventually loosen their grip.

James connected this truth to the wider witness of Scripture. James 1:2–3 calls believers to “count it all joy” when trials come. Not because suffering is good, but because God uses it to form something enduring. Likewise, Colossians 3:2 urges believers to set their minds “on things above, not on earthly things.”

Contentment, then, is not achieved by fixing everything that feels unfinished in our lives. It is found by anchoring ourselves to someone who does not move. Paul is not commanding emotional detachment from life. He is calling for spiritual clarity about what deserves our ultimate devotion.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers have taken this passage to suggest that Paul undervalues marriage or expects the imminent end of the world. Others worry that this teaching minimizes real struggles, loneliness, grief, or longing that unmarried or widowed people experience.

Those concerns deserve to be taken seriously.

Paul affirms marriage elsewhere (Ephesians 5). Scripture consistently honors the goodness of embodied life. What Paul resists here is not intimacy, but idolatry. The quiet belief that a relationship, role, or resolution will finally make us whole.

James echoed this pastoral balance. Seasons still involve pain. Problems still need addressing. Longings are not sinful. But they are not meant to carry the weight of ultimate hope.

The Turn

One of the sermon’s most arresting moments came when James asked another diagnostic question: “What in your life has a relentless attention pull on you?”

For him, it was screen time. For others, it may be work, relationships, achievement, or addiction in its many forms. In a world built on monetizing attention, distraction is not accidental. It is strategic.

Paul names the alternative in 1 Corinthians 7:35, his instruction aims to “promote good order and to secure your undivided devotion to the Lord.”

Undivided devotion does not mean withdrawal from life. It means alignment. Attention reveals affection. What consistently captures us quietly shapes us. This is why Paul’s warning resonates with 1 Timothy 6:7, “For we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world.” Jesus teaches the same reality in Matthew 6:19–21, where treasure and heart are inseparably linked.

Only one object of devotion does not depreciate. Jesus.

Song of the week: Beautiful Life - Pat Barrett

The opening line of Pat Barrett’s song lands with the kind of clarity that stops you mid-thought. “Every day is a gift from God. Even ones that have left their scars.” That final phrase, even ones that have left their scars, is what lingers. It reframes hardship not as wasted time, but as something still held within God’s purpose.

Scripture echoes this idea repeatedly. In Genesis 50:20, Joseph looks back on betrayal, injustice, and imprisonment and names a hard truth plainly, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” It’s not a denial of harm or pain, but a declaration that suffering does not get the final word. Even on the worst days, days marked by loss, confusion, or failure, breath itself is evidence that God is not finished with you.

Again, James reinforces this reality in the New Testament with a sobering reminder as stated in the Sermon Reflection above, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds.” Not if trials come, but when. Faith, James argues, does not exempt believers from hardship; it forms them through it. Following Jesus does not remove adversity from life, but it does provide meaning, endurance, and hope within it.

Taken together, these passages point to a difficult but grounding truth. God does not waste suffering. Scars do not disqualify a day from being called a gift. The invitation, then, is not to minimize pain, but to trust that even what was meant for harm can be reshaped for good. Every day, including the hard ones, still carries purpose.

Carry It Into the Week

James offered a reframing to think on. The seasons of our lives are callings to steward, not problems to solve.

That doesn’t deny pain or dismiss change. It refuses to treat God’s providence as an interruption. Marriage, singleness, grief, stability, uncertainty, all are contexts in which devotion is practiced.

Jesus stands as the living proof that a life fully given to the Father is never wasted. His attention was undivided. His obedience was costly. His contentment was rooted beyond circumstances.

If Christ is eternal, then devotion to Him is the only investment that cannot be lost.

Week in Reflection

The new semester of Gospel Community (GC) began this week, marking a fresh start for a group centered on shared faith, honest conversation, and life together. While rooted in Scripture, GC extends beyond traditional Bible study, creating space for those attending to reflect not only on the Word of God but also on the ways it intersects with their everyday lives.

At its core, Gospel Community functions as more than a weekly meeting. It is a spiritual family. One that walks through seasons of struggle and celebration together, with Christ at the center. The regular rhythm of gathering fosters consistency, vulnerability, and mutual support, allowing attenders to both share their own stories and stand alongside others in moments of need or joy.

For those not currently involved in a small group or larger community shaped around faith, the value of such connection is hard to overstate. Christianity was never meant to be lived in isolation. Seeing the same people regularly, growing in trust, and carrying one another’s burdens reflects the kind of life Christ calls us into.

As this new semester begins, there is a sense of anticipation about what lies ahead. New conversations, deeper relationships, and continued growth in faith. If the early days are any indication, this season of Gospel Community promises to be both meaningful and transformative.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Called Where You Are: Paul’s Radical Reframing of Marriage, Singleness, and Faithfulness

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, January 25, 2026.

In a culture that treats relationship status as destiny and personal fulfillment as a moving target, 1 Corinthians 7: 1-24 sounds almost subversive. This portion of the chapter doesn’t promise romantic completion, spiritual shortcuts, or a cleaner life if you just make the right change. Instead, Paul does something far more disruptive. He tells the church to stay put.

This week, Pastor Jonathan walked Connection Church through 1 Corinthians 7:1–24, a passage that refuses to flatter either marriage or singleness, yet dignifies both. Paul addresses sex, marriage, divorce, and calling, not as abstract theology, but as pastoral counsel shaped by real questions from a confused church. And his conclusion is not, “Change your situation so God can use you,” but rather, “Live faithfully where God has already placed you.”

The World Behind the Text

The Corinthian church lived at the crossroads of Roman excess and Greek philosophy. Sexual freedom was celebrated, marriage was transactional, and ascetic spirituality, denying the body altogether, was gaining traction among some believers. It is into this volatile mix that Paul writes, responding directly to questions the church had raised, “Now concerning the matters about which you wrote” (1 Corinthians 7:1, ESV).

Some in Corinth apparently believed holiness meant abstaining from sex entirely, even within marriage. Others continued in patterns of sexual immorality that mirrored the surrounding culture. Paul refuses both extremes. He neither condones indulgence nor spiritualizes repression. Instead, he roots sexual ethics in creation, covenant, and calling.

Walking the Passage

Paul begins with marriage, not because it is ultimate, but because it is practical. While acknowledging that celibacy can be good, he immediately confronts the reality of temptation. Because sexual immorality is persistent and powerful, Paul argues that marriage provides a God-designed context for sexual expression. His concern is not prudishness but protection. Specifically, protection against self-deception and spiritual drift.

Once married, Paul says, something profound changes. Husbands and wives no longer belong only to themselves. Authority over one’s body is mutually surrendered. This is not a power grab but a gift exchange, an embodied echo of Genesis 2:24: “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (ESV). Marriage, for Paul, is not about personal autonomy but covenantal unity.

This mutual belonging also sets limits. Paul warns against withholding intimacy except briefly, by agreement, and for prayer. Even spiritual disciplines must not become tools of neglect. The body matters. Desire matters. Faithfulness includes attentiveness.

For the unmarried and widows, Paul offers a different word. Singleness is not a deficiency to be corrected. It is a legitimate calling, one Paul himself embodies. Yet he is honest about human limits. “If they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to burn with passion” (1 Corinthians 7:9, ESV). Marriage is not a consolation prize; it is a gift for those who need it.

Paul then turns to divorce, addressing both believers married to believers and believers married to unbelievers. His counsel is strikingly consistent. Do not pursue separation lightly. Seek reconciliation. Stay. Work it out. Even when faith is not shared, Paul urges patience and hope, not escape. His rhetorical question in verse 16 lingers with quiet force: “For how do you know, wife, whether you will save your husband? Or how do you know, husband, whether you will save your wife?” (ESV).

Paul is not promising guaranteed outcomes. He is calling for faithful presence. Be the seed. Stay planted. Let God do the work.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers have argued that Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 7 reflects situational urgency rather than timeless principle. Perhaps shaped by an expectation of Christ’s imminent return. Others worry that emphasizing staying put risks trapping people in harmful or abusive situations.

These concerns deserve serious attention. Scripture never sanctifies abuse, nor does Paul’s counsel override the broader biblical call to justice, safety, and protection of the vulnerable. Interpretation must be distinguished from application. Paul is addressing ordinary marital tension, not systemic harm. His emphasis on reconciliation assumes good-faith participation, not coercion or danger.

At the same time, reducing Paul’s teaching to mere historical contingency misses its theological depth. His vision of calling is rooted not in crisis management but in the sovereignty of God. A God who works not just through change, but through endurance.

The Turn

Beginning in verse 17, Paul widens the lens. Marriage and singleness are not isolated topics; they are examples of a larger truth. Three times he repeats the core principle: live as you were called.

Pastor Jonathan distilled this section into three modern reflections that bring Paul’s point into sharp focus:

• Living out God’s calling genuinely enriches those around you. Faithfulness is never private. It spills outward.

• Being faithful where you are makes the gospel visible in that place. The message is embodied before it is spoken.

• No status or situation can separate you from God. Circumstances are fragile. God is not.

Paul applies this logic to circumcision, slavery, and social status. Real, weighty distinctions in the ancient world. None of them grant spiritual advantage. None of them disqualify. God’s call precedes our conditions.

Song of the week: But the Cross - Ben Fuller

The cross stands as a direct rebuttal to many of the lies, both worldly and internal, that people carry. In his song, Ben Fuller quickly names a common belief that the past cannot be outrun and that innocence, once lost, is gone for good. It is a familiar and tragic narrative, repeated in countless lives, where shame convinces people they are unable, or unworthy, to approach God because of what they have done.

The chorus cuts through that distortion with a simple but powerful truth, “But the cross says they’re wrong.” Christ’s death was not reserved for those with polished histories or minor moral failures. It was and is for everyone, especially the broken, the weary, and those who believe they are beyond redemption. So the next time you feel like you are “too far gone” just remember the lyrics, “Shame tells me I’m broken, but I know I’m forgiven. Fear tells me it’s over, but this is the beginning. But the cross says they’re wrong.”

Carry It Into the Week

This passage dismantles the myth that faithfulness begins “once things change.” Paul does not deny that circumstances matter. He denies that they are decisive. Staying faithful deepens our walk with Christ precisely because it resists the illusion that control equals obedience.

Expect God to be at work. Not only in new seasons, but in the ones you are tempted to escape. Your circumstances cannot hinder God’s purposes. They are often the very soil where those purposes take root.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Week in Reflection

This week provided an opportunity for both travel and reflection as I drove three hours to spend time with a close friend I hadn’t seen in quite some time. The purpose of the visit was a somber one. To be present with him as he continues to grieve the loss of his mother. As one approaches forty, death becomes a more familiar part of life, yet its weight never seems to lessen. For that reason, I am grateful God made it possible for me to be there, if only for a weekend.

The visit included moments of normalcy and joy, video games, a workout, and even a trip to see Zootopia 2. Those shared activities mattered, but the most meaningful part of the weekend came on Sunday. I had the chance to attend the church my friend has been calling home and experience it firsthand.

Walking into a new church after years of worshiping exclusively at Connection felt unfamiliar and, in some ways, uncomfortable. Still, those feelings quickly faded. When the Gospel is faithfully preached, the smaller differences lose their significance. The sermon that morning came from John 2:1–12, and it sparked thoughtful reflection for both of us.

After the service, we shared brunch and talked through what we had heard. The conversation was honest, Gospel-centered, and encouraging. Being able to listen to my friend’s perspective and witness how God is working in his life was a gift in itself.

Looking back, the weekend was a reminder of God’s faithfulness. Not only in moments of grief, but in the opportunities He provides to walk alongside others. I’m thankful for this experience and pray He continues to open doors like this in the future.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, January 18, 2026.

In 1 Corinthians 6:12–20, Paul dismantles the cultural slogans of Corinth, and ours, exposing how sexual freedom can quietly become spiritual slavery. His solution is surprisingly unheroic and relentlessly practical: don’t fight, don’t negotiate. Flee.

Jonathan opened the sermon with an unexpected assurance: this conversation would be less graphic than a walk through the local mall.

That line landed because it exposed a quiet truth most of us already know but rarely name. Our culture is not sexually restrained; it is saturated. Advertisements, billboards, streaming shows, social media feeds, desire is constantly being curated, monetized, and normalized. What once would have shocked now barely registers. Sin, after all, corrupts not only behavior but perception. It dulls the nerves. And that desensitization is dangerous.

Because when sin becomes “normal,” it stops looking like rebellion and starts looking like freedom.

Paul writes 1 Corinthians 6:12–20 into a world not unlike ours. A city fluent in sexual expression, philosophical slogans, and personal autonomy. Corinth did not blush. And Paul does not flinch. He presses the issue not because he is prudish, but because he is pastoral. He knows that what we do with our bodies is never merely physical. It is always theological.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was a port city, wealthy, transient, pluralistic, and permissive. It was famous for commerce and infamous for its sexual ethics. Temples, prostitutes, philosophers, and slogans all competed for allegiance. Into that mix, the Corinthian Christians had imported Jesus, but not yet allowed him to reorder everything else.

Paul quotes the sayings circulating among them:

“All things are lawful for me.”
“Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food.”

These weren’t pagan slogans alone; they were Christianized distortions of Christian freedom. The Corinthians had taken a real gospel truth, freedom from the law, and stretched it beyond recognition. Paul doesn’t deny the premise. He corrects the conclusion.

“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are helpful.
“All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything (1 Cor. 6:12, ESV).

Freedom, Paul insists, is not measured by permission but by mastery. Whatever controls you owns you.

That distinction matters because the gospel does not merely forgive sin. It liberates us from slavery. And Corinth was confusing license with liberty.

Walking the Passage

Paul’s argument in this passage unfolds like a tightening vice.

First, he reframes the body.

“The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body” (v. 13).

That sentence quietly overturns both ancient and modern assumptions. In Greek thought, the body was disposable; in modern thought, it is autonomous. Paul rejects both. The body matters because God made it, God redeemed it, and God intends to raise it.

Sex, Paul reminds them, was created for good. Scripture affirms this from the beginning. After the flood, God renews his command:

“Be fruitful and multiply; increase greatly on the earth” (Gen. 9:7).

Sex was designed to bring life, physical, covenantal, communal. But sin corrodes design. What God gives as a gift, sin twists into a weapon. What was meant to unite becomes something that fractures. Relationships collapse, marriages dissolve, people are reduced to objects, and desire becomes demand.

Sin doesn’t just break rules. It makes us resent the rules as if they were meant for cruelty.

Paul then moves deeper, uncomfortably deeper.

“Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ?” (v. 15)

This is not metaphorical flourish. Paul means it literally. Union with Christ is not spiritual abstraction; it is embodied reality. What you do with your body, you do as someone joined to Jesus.

And then comes the line that ends all negotiation:

“You are not your own” (v. 19).

That sentence detonates modern assumptions. Autonomy collapses. Ownership is transferred. The body is not a private playground but a sacred dwelling.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers argue that Paul’s language reflects ancient purity concerns rather than enduring moral truths. Others suggest that sexual ethics should evolve alongside cultural norms, especially since Paul’s context differed from ours.

These readings rightly caution against flattening Scripture into simplistic rulebooks. But they fail to account for Paul’s grounding logic. His argument is not rooted in cultural taboos but in creation, redemption, and resurrection. The body matters because God made it, Christ purchased it, and the Spirit inhabits it.

Paul’s concern is not control, it is coherence. A gospel that saves souls but ignores bodies is not the gospel Paul preached.

The Turn

So how do you fight sexual sin?

Are we to put on the full armor of God? Or pray without ceasing? No, of this type of sin the Bible is clear time and time again.

Flee.

Why? Because sexual sin is different.

“Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body” (v. 18).

This sin doesn’t merely confront you; it pursues you. It chases. It follows patterns of proximity, habit, imagination, and access. Which is why Paul doesn’t call for bravery, he calls for distance.

This is illustrated at the beginning with Joseph in Genesis 39. When Potiphar’s wife grabbed him, Joseph didn’t reason, rebuke, or pray longer. He left his cloak and fled.

Holiness, sometimes, looks like speed.

Song of the week: Shoulders - For King & Country

Some songs fade after a few listens. Others linger, returning again and again with fresh meaning. This one has become the kind I could play every hour on the hour without losing its impact. A steady reminder of the quiet, sustaining way God carries His people.

At its core is a simple but powerful truth. God does not merely walk beside us in our burdens, He shoulders them. The message echoes Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:30, “My yoke is easy and my burden light.” In biblical terms, a yoke was a wooden beam placed across the shoulders of two animals, designed to distribute weight and make labor easier. Jesus’ promise reframes that image, the weight we struggle to carry is taken up by Him.

For King & Country captures that reality with striking clarity in the chorus: “You carry my weakness, my sickness, my brokenness all on Your shoulders…..You are my rest, my rescue.” The lyrics don’t romanticize hardship, it redirects it, pointing to a Savior who absorbs the strain so His people don’t have to bear it alone.

That truth is what gives the song its staying power. It isn’t just comforting, it’s reorienting. If Christ carries everything, then the burden is no longer ours to manage, only ours to release. And in that exchange, weight for rest, effort for grace, the promise of a light yoke finally makes sense.

Carry It Into the Week

Jonathan made one final, clarifying point: this principle doesn’t apply only to sexual sin.

Insert any sin into the sentence and it still holds.

Sin feels like freedom until you try to stop.

Addiction always masquerades as choice. “I can quit whenever I want,” we say. But the moment quitting becomes difficult, the truth emerges. What we thought we controlled has been controlling us all along.

Paul closes the passage with the gospel’s decisive reframe:

“For you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” (v. 20).

Freedom is not self-ownership. It is Christ-ownership. Jesus did not shed his blood to make us autonomous; he shed it to make us whole.

Which means fleeing sin is not running FROM joy, it is running TOWARD it.

So flee.
Flee toward Christ.
And you will find that his arms were open long before you turned around.

Week in Reflection

The past week was marked by a wide range of emotions as my family was finally able to lay my uncle to rest following his passing over Thanksgiving weekend. Bringing that season to a close provided a sense of needed closure and was deeply cathartic, though it also proved physically and emotionally exhausting.

Between the visitation on Friday, the funeral on Saturday, and moving directly into church on Sunday, the schedule left little room to recharge. Like many, I have a limited social and emotional capacity on any given day, and the weekend demanded all of it. Still, by God’s grace, I made it through and was able to reconnect in meaningful ways with people I had not seen in a long time.

In the midst of it all, God also provided the courage and strength for me to stand during the funeral and read Scripture, specifically 1 Corinthians 15:51–57, a passage that points clearly to the hope of resurrection in Jesus. Though the week was heavy with grief, it was also marked by grace, making it, in its own way, another blessing.

And remember, God loves you and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

NOTE: The previously published version was the incorrect draft for this week’s FiF. We have deleted it, and the email can be disregarded. This is the correct version.

Sermon Reflection: What Grows Without Us, and Why God Invites Us Anyway

Based on the sermon by Stephen Jones, Connection Church Sioux Falls, January 11, 2026.

This week at Connection Church, we took a deliberate detour. After spending weeks immersed in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, we turned instead to the teaching ministry of Jesus himself. Specifically Mark 4:1–32 with the help of a special guest, Stephen Jones, from Great Oaks Church in Mankato, Minnesota. Great Oaks is a church plant we’re partnered with, and Stephen’s presence carried the quiet reminder that the gospel doesn’t just travel through pulpits, but through people sent.

Mark 4 gathers four parables spoken by Jesus in a single teaching movement:
the Sower, the Lamp, the Growing Seed, and the Tree. Individually, each parable reveals something true about the Kingdom of God. Together, they form a cohesive vision, not only of what God’s Kingdom is, but of what our role within it is (and is not).

These parables confront some of our most persistent temptations to measure faithfulness by visible success, to shrink back from witness, to overestimate our importance, or to disqualify ourselves before we ever begin.

Jesus addresses all of it, patiently, pastorally, and with remarkable clarity.

The World Behind the Text

Mark’s Gospel is fast-paced, urgent, and spare. But chapter 4 slows down. Jesus sits in a boat while crowds line the shore, and instead of commands or miracles, he tells stories. Earthy, agricultural, and deceptively simple.

Parables, by design, both reveal and conceal. Jesus says as much later in the chapter. They draw in those willing to listen while leaving the resistant untouched. Importantly, these are not abstract moral lessons. They are Kingdom disclosures, windows into how God reigns, acts, and accomplishes his purposes in the world.

First-century listeners would have immediately recognized the imagery. Sowing seed, lighting lamps, waiting for crops, and watching mustard trees overtake gardens were all familiar realities. What was unfamiliar, and often unsettling, was Jesus’ insistence that God’s Kingdom does not advance the way human kingdoms do.

It grows slowly. Quietly. Often invisibly. And yet, it is unstoppable.

Walking the Passage

The Parable of the Sower (Mark 4:1–20)

Jesus begins with the image of a farmer scattering seed generously, almost wastefully. The seed, identified later as the word, lands on four kinds of soil:

• The Path, where the word is heard but immediately taken away by Satan.

• Rocky ground, where the word is received with joy but lacks depth. When tribulation or persecution arises, faith withers.

• Among thorns, where the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, rendering it unfruitful.

• Good soil, where the word is heard, accepted, and bears fruit. Thirty, sixty, even a hundredfold.

The point is not subtle. The same seed is sown in every case. The difference lies in the soil.

This parable does two things at once. First, it names reality. Not every proclamation of the gospel will be met with repentance and faith. Some will reject it outright. Others will seem enthusiastic until cost enters the picture. Still others will be slowly suffocated by comfort, distraction, or wealth.

Second, it redefines success. The sower is never critiqued. He scatters faithfully. The outcome belongs elsewhere.

For the church, this is both sobering and liberating. We are called to be sowers, not harvest managers. Faithfulness, not visible results, is the metric Jesus gives.

The Parable of the Lamp (Mark 4:21–25)

The second parable builds directly on the first. Stephen framed this parable as confidence for the sower and rightly so. A lamp, Jesus says, is not meant to be hidden under a basket or a bed. It is meant to be placed on a stand so it can give light.

If the first parable frees us from controlling responses, this one challenges us not to retreat when responses are mixed.

The temptation is understandable. When sowing is hard, rejection frequent, or fruit slow, it’s easy to dim the light. To soften the truth. To privatize faith. To convince ourselves that silence is wisdom. Jesus rejects that logic entirely.

Light exists to be seen. The gospel is meant to be proclaimed. And whatever is hidden, Jesus promises, will eventually be revealed. This is not bravado. It is quiet courage rooted in trust that God sees, God knows, and God will bring his purposes to light.

The Parable of the Growing Seed (Mark 4:26–29)

This third parable cuts deepest. A man scatters seed on the ground. Then he sleeps. He wakes. Days pass. And somehow, “he knows not how”, the seed sprouts and grows. The earth produces by itself. Only when the grain is ripe does the farmer act again.

The unsettling reality is this:
God’s Kingdom grows independently of us.

It does not require our ingenuity, charisma, or constant supervision. It does not hinge on our strategies or strength. God does not need us. And yet, astonishingly, he invites us anyway.

This parable dismantles both pride and despair. Pride, because we are not the engine of the Kingdom. Despair, because its growth does not depend on our limitations.

God delights in obedience. He invites participation not out of necessity, but love. The same God who could compel belief instead honors human will and works through faithful witness.

The Parable of the Tree (Mark 4:30–32)

Finally, Jesus turns to encouragement. The mustard seed, measured in mere millimeters, was proverbially small. And yet it grows into a large tree, providing shelter and rest for birds.

The contrast is the point. What begins insignificantly does not remain so. What feels inadequate is not dismissed by God. What seems unseen is not unused.

This parable speaks directly to those who feel unqualified, unheard, or limited in reach. The Kingdom does not advance through spectacle, but through faithful smallness entrusted to a faithful God.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some have read these parables primarily as deterministic, suggesting that soil types are fixed or that human agency is irrelevant. Others reduce them to motivational encouragements detached from repentance and judgment.

Both miss Jesus’ balance.

The parables affirm God’s sovereignty and human responsibility. They acknowledge resistance without excusing complacency. They comfort discouraged disciples without minimizing the cost of discipleship.

Jesus does not flatten mystery; he invites trust.

The Turn

Taken together, these four parables form a single pastoral argument:

• Sow faithfully, even when results vary.

• Shine confidently, even when it feels costly.

• Rest humbly, knowing God brings growth.

• Trust boldly, even when faith feels small.

The Kingdom of God is not fragile. It is not stalled by our weakness or accelerated by our control. It grows, often invisibly, always intentionally, by the power of God.

Our role is obedience. God’s role is growth.

Song of the week: Forgiven - Crowder

This week temptation has hit hard and this song helps to remind me of one clear and true fact. In Christ, I am forgiven. The first verse doesn’t hold back to begin with depicting each of us as not only sinners, but the ones holding the hammer that crucified Jesus and calls out Peter’s denial as our own. The second verse keeps up the heat; “I’ve done things I wish I hadn’t done. I’ve seen things I wish I hadn’t seen,” but the chorus rings out like a floaty in a pool, “Forgiven. Child, there is freedom from all of it. Say goodbye to every sin. You are forgiven.” This good news is taken from Matthew 26:28 where Jesus himself says, “for this is my blood poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” While we continue to sin, even though we don’t want to, we can be reassured by this song that no matter what has happened, if we cry out to the Lord and truly ask for forgiveness and repent. We are forgiven. I pray this week that if you are feeling shameful or guilty of sins committed, that you would repent and pray for forgiveness as it is just a moment away.

Carry It Into the Week

If you feel discouraged by mixed responses, remember the soils.
If you feel tempted to hide, remember the lamp.

If you feel pressured to produce, remember the seed growing while you sleep.

If you feel unqualified, remember the mustard seed.

Faithfulness is never wasted in the Kingdom of God.

Week in Reflection

This week, my Gospel Community leaders met to discuss plans for the upcoming semester, which begins in February. The conversation naturally turned to the rhythm of meeting together and the seasonal pause that comes with winter break. I’ve long been a proponent of not taking breaks, often pointing to Hebrews 10:25 and its encouragement not to neglect gathering together, but rather to use that time for mutual encouragement.

At the same time, the value of a break is not lost on me. These pauses exist largely to protect leaders from fatigue and burnout, creating space for rest before the next semester begins. Still, the return from that break brings a renewed sense of anticipation. Reuniting regularly as a Gospel Community is marked by joy and a shared eagerness to continue life together.

As the new semester approaches, the experience serves as a reminder of the importance of small-group involvement. For those not currently connected to a group, it may be worth considering as a goal for 2026. The impact of my Gospel Community life extends beyond weekly conversations or structured discussion, it creates a sense of belonging. Over time, these groups become more than a gathering of friends. They function as family, walking alongside one another in faith and in life.

And just remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Cross-Shaped Justice in a Courtroom World

Based on the sermon by Nathan Schaap, Connection Church Sioux Falls, January 4, 2026.

When the Corinthian church chose public courts over private reconciliation, Paul saw more than bad judgment, he saw a denial of the cross. In 1 Corinthians 6:1–11, the apostle confronts a church tempted to win disputes at the cost of its witness.

For the second week in a row, Connection Church was led by one of its own elders. Nathan Schapp stepped to the pulpit to open 1 Corinthians 6:1–11, a passage that lands with surprising force in a culture obsessed with reputation, remedies, and the need of winning.

Paul’s concern here is not murder, abuse, or criminal violence. Scripture is clear that governing authorities exist to restrain evil (Romans 13). Instead, Paul is addressing something far more ordinary and far more revealing: petty disputes. Grievances. Financial disagreements. Minor infractions that had escalated into public lawsuits between believers.

Nathan framed the tension with a simple, honest question. “Are we not human?”

Yes, mistakes happen. Conflict is inevitable. But Paul insists that how Christians handle conflict reveals whether the gospel is shaping them or whether the surrounding culture is.

The World Behind the Text

First-century Corinth was famously litigious. Roman courts were public, performative spaces where honor was gained and shame was inflicted. Legal victories were less about justice and more about status. To sue someone was to assert dominance; to lose was to be diminished.

This cultural backdrop matters. The Corinthian believers weren’t merely seeking resolution, they were absorbing the values of their city. By dragging fellow Christians before secular courts, they were reenacting Corinthian power plays under a Christian banner.

Paul sees the danger immediately. When the church mirrors the culture’s definition of justice, it quietly replaces the cross with the courthouse.

Walking the Passage

Paul opens bluntly:

“When one of you has a grievance against another, does he dare go to law before the unrighteous instead of the saints?” (1 Corinthians 6:1, ESV, emphasis added)

This is not about competence but identity. Paul’s shock isn’t that courts exist but that believers would prefer them to the community God has already formed.

Interpretation

Paul grounds his argument in eschatology. The Christian belief about the future. In verses 2–3, he reminds the church that they will one day participate in God’s final judgment:

“Do you not know that the saints will judge the world?” (1 Corinthians 6:2, ESV)

This echoes Jesus’ promise in Matthew 19:28 where the faithful are depicted as sharing in Christ’s reign, and anticipates Revelation 3:21, where those who conquer sit with Christ on His throne.

Paul’s logic is sharp:
If believers will one day judge the world, and even angels, how can they claim to be incapable of handling everyday disputes?

Application

The Corinthians had outsourced discernment because they had lost confidence in the church’s wisdom. Instead of leaning into gospel-formed maturity, they defaulted to cultural solutions.

Paul presses further in verses 4–7, exposing the deeper issue. They want to win.

“Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded?” (1 Corinthians 6:7, ESV)

This is cross-shaped justice. Not weakness. Not passivity. But voluntary loss for the sake of love, unity, and witness.

A Fair Counter-Reading

It’s important to say what Paul is not saying.

Paul is not forbidding Christians from ever using courts. Scripture affirms lawful authority and justice for serious wrongdoing. Abuse, exploitation, and criminal acts demand accountability and protection for the vulnerable.

What Paul is confronting is a church that treats minor disputes as public battlegrounds, choosing reputation over reconciliation, victory over unity.

This distinction matters. Paul’s rebuke is not anti-justice; it is anti-pride.

The Turn

Verse 7 lands like a verdict:

“To have lawsuits at all with one another is already a defeat for you.” (1 Corinthians 6:7, ESV)

Before a judge ever rules, the church has already lost. Why? Because the gospel declares that Jesus absorbed injustice without retaliation. The cross looks like failure to the world but it is the power of God to save.

When Christianity begins to resemble the surrounding culture, it doesn’t become more persuasive. It becomes hollow.

Paul’s final word is not condemnation but identity:

“And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified…” (1 Corinthians 6:11, ESV)

Past tense. Finished work. A new creation.

Song of the week: Where Would I Be - Peter Burton

With the arrival of a new year comes a familiar impulse: to look back in order to understand how far we have come, and to consider where we hope the next chapter will lead. This song captures that reflection through a distinctly Christ-centered lens. “Standing where I stand now, I know that He’s the reason. Every wrong turn He turned around. Where would I be if I didn’t have Jesus.”

For me, the answer to that question is not abstract. Without Christ, my life would have remained centered on self-indulgence, trapped in alcoholism and driven by fleeting pleasure rather than lasting purpose. Instead, the convergence of events that brought me to this point feels anything but accidental. Looking back, it is difficult to attribute that transformation to anything other than Jesus.

With greater clarity comes a new perspective on the past. What once felt like failure or misfortune increasingly appears providential. Moments of redirection rather than derailment. As the song continues, “I used to feel the weight of the chains that I was holding, ’til my Savior came and broke ’em,” it gives language to a freedom that is no longer theoretical, but lived.

As this year unfolds, my prayer is that others would witness the same work in their own lives. Chains broken, hardships reframed as loving course corrections, and a renewed confidence that even the difficult seasons are guiding us back onto the path God has prepared. And let me tell you, it’s better than anything we could imagine.

Carry It Into the Week

The Corinthians weren’t being asked to become something new. They were being called to live like what they already were.

The same is true for us.

We are not defined by our past, our pride, or our need to win. We are defined by the blood of Christ freely given to the undeserving. The church does not display the gospel by always being right, but by being willing to lose for love’s sake.

There is more grace in Christ than sin in you.

Week in Reflection

The first full week of 2026 has arrived with the familiar energy of New Year’s resolutions, fresh goals, and the early work of turning intentions into habits. For me, that effort has centered on a simple but demanding aim: to bookend each day with the Lord, being the first thing I do in the early morning and ending with the last thing I do at night.

The morning commitment has been the most concrete so far. It has required a 4:30 a.m. alarm, an intentional sacrifice of sleep in order to start the day grounded in Scripture and prayer. While the cost is real, the motivation is clear, time itself is a gift from God, and offering the first moments of the day back to Him has brought a sense of clarity and purpose before anything else begins.

New this year is the parallel goal of ending each day the same way, making the Lord the final focus before sleep. Just one week in and the impact is already noticeable. The change is subtle but tangible, reflected in a steadier mood and a more centered outlook. And if this routine can take root as a habit, I’m confident it will shape far more than just my emotions.

As the year begins and new rhythms are forming, my hope and prayer is not only that the goals we set are successful, but that they are God-centered and Christ-focused. Habits that form us spiritually, not just productively.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection:

Based on Joe Obermueller’s sermon at Connection Church Sioux Falls, Dec 28, 2025.

In 1 Corinthians chapter 5, Paul confronts an unthinkable sin in Corinth, not to shame, but to save. In one of Scripture’s hardest passages, we discover why discipline, rightly practiced, is an act of mercy and a safeguard for the gospel community as a whole.

This week at Connection Church, one of our elders, Joe Obermueller, stepped onto the stage to introduce Paul’s next subject in 1 Corinthians, sexual immorality. Few topics make a modern congregation shift in their seats faster. Yet Paul does not hedge, soften, or delay. He confronts the issue head-on because the integrity of the church, and the salvation of a man’s soul, are at stake.

The situation Paul addresses is shocking even by Corinthian standards. A man in the church is sleeping with his father’s wife (1 Cor. 5:1). Paul’s phrasing makes clear this is likely a stepmother, not a biological parent, but the distinction offers no relief. Paul says the behavior is so grievous that even pagan Corinthians refuse to tolerate it.

What troubles Paul most is not only the sin, but the church’s response, or lack of response. They are silent. Passive. Unwilling to act.

So Paul introduces a theme that feels foreign, and even offensive, to many churches today, discipline and accountability.

The World Behind the Text

First-century Corinth was not prudish. Sexual license was woven into the city’s religious and social life. Temples doubled as brothels. Moral boundaries were fluid at best. For Paul to say that something occurring inside the church exceeded even pagan norms is a stunning indictment.

Yet this is not merely about sexual ethics. Paul’s deeper concern is theological. The Corinthian church had begun to confuse grace with permissiveness. Their pride suggested that tolerance itself was a mark of spiritual maturity.

Paul dismantles that assumption.

Using the metaphor of leaven, he warns that sin left unaddressed does not remain isolated. “A little leaven leavens the whole lump” (1 Cor. 5:6, ESV). In other words: what the church excuses today will shape the church tomorrow.

This isn’t about moral superiority. It’s about identity. God’s people are called to be distinct, not insulated from sinners, but uncompromising about sin within the covenant community.

Walking the Passage

Paul’s instruction is severe, “deliver this man to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord” (1 Cor. 5:5, ESV).

At first glance, it sounds brutal. Excommunication. Removal. Separation.

But Paul is not inventing something new. His instruction mirrors Jesus’ own teaching in Matthew 18:15–17, where progressive steps are taken to confront sin. The Corinthian situation has reached the final stage. The man refuses repentance, and the church must acknowledge reality.

Joe made an essential clarification. This is mercy, not vengeance.

Church discipline is not punishment. It is intervention. It is a loving refusal to affirm what God condemns. Like a surgeon cutting to heal, discipline wounds in order to restore.

Joe summarized it memorably.

Discipline is discipleship.

Without discipleship, discipline becomes cruel moralism.

Without discipline, discipleship dissolves into sentimentalism.

You cannot have one without the other.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some argue that passages like this are culturally bound or dangerously outdated, that exclusion harms more than it helps. Others fear abuse, recalling times when discipline was weaponized to control rather than restore.

These concerns are not imaginary. Scripture itself condemns harsh, self-righteous leadership. Discipline divorced from humility, patience, and love is a distortion of the gospel.

But Paul’s aim is neither control nor shame. His stated purpose is explicit: “that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord.” The goal is redemption.

Ignoring sin does not protect people from harm, it leaves them in it.

The Turn

Paul is clear about what discipline is not. He is not telling the church to erase this man from memory. He is not canceling him. He is not denying the possibility of restoration.

Quite the opposite.

The discipline is temporary, purposeful, and hopeful. The church is to pray, to wait, and to prepare for reconciliation. When repentance comes, and Paul assumes it can, the church must be ready to welcome him back.

Grace does not eliminate boundaries.
Grace creates them.

Song of the week: Gratitude - Brandon Lake

As the calendar turns, reflection often follows. For many, the close of the year invites an assessment not only of achievements and setbacks, but of faith. Looking back on the past year, the prevailing theme is gratitude, an acknowledgment of how much God has done, even when events unfolded differently than expected.

That tension is captured well in the lyric, “How could I express all my gratitude,” a line that gives voice to the challenge of putting thankfulness into words. Not everything went according to plan, but with hindsight comes a clearer perspective: plans that fall short of expectations do not fall outside of God’s purpose or plan. In many cases, they reveal it.

Viewing life through that lens reshapes how circumstances are understood. Moments of disappointment or uncertainty begin to make more sense over time, even if clarity is absent in the moment. As 2026 begins, the invitation is simple but demanding, to approach the year ahead with gratitude in all things and a renewed commitment to follow God’s plan, trusting that it is ultimately better than our own.

Carry It Into the Week

Joe transitioned from discipline to accountability, because the two belong together. Following Jesus is not a solo project. Sanctification happens in community, not isolation.

Left alone, we all develop blind spots. In a healthy church, those blind spots are lovingly exposed, not to embarrass us, but to redirect us.

Joe noted that the most practical way this happens is through belonging to a local church.

And I couldn’t agree more.

My own life has been reshaped through membership at Connection, through serving, joining a small-group Bible study, and being a part of a men’s group that meets every Friday. The accountability I experience isn’t oppressive, it’s a gift. Sometimes uncomfortable, yes, but always corrective, always aimed at helping me walk more faithfully with Jesus.

Accountability isn’t about surveillance.
It’s about shared pursuit.

And in the end, it is for the better to turn people back to the proper path; following Jesus.

Week in Reflection

A new year brings a familiar mix of emotions, the anxiety of returning to work after Christmas vacation, the mental reset that comes with a new calendar, and a renewed focus on Jesus. For many, the start of January serves as a natural checkpoint for evaluating spiritual habits, especially time spent in Scripture.

The Bible offers no prescribed schedule for how quickly or slowly it must be read, nor does it mandate a “read it in a year” approach. Still, the new year provides an opportunity to be more intentional. Even a modest commitment, 15 minutes a day, can be enough to read through the entire Bible over the course of a year. Digital tools such as the Bible App offer a wide range of reading plans to help guide that process.

Whether following a structured plan or simply reading a chapter a day, the underlying principle remains the same. Time in God’s Word matters. As the saying goes, when you open the Bible, it often opens you. While commentaries and reflections, including this weekly post, can provide helpful insight and explanations, they are no substitute for engaging directly with Scripture.

As 2026 begins, the hope and prayer is that anyone who finds this post would be filled with a renewed desire to spend time in God’s Word, allowing it to shape not only their spiritual routines, but their daily lives.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Servants, Not Celebrities: Paul’s Final Word on Pride

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Dec 21, 2025.

As Advent draws to a close, Paul’s final word on pride confronts a church tempted by applause, status, and self-made authority, and invites us into the quiet freedom of belonging to Christ alone.

Jonathan Land opened the fourth Sunday of Advent with a statistic that landed like a punch to the chest. Since the 1970s, so-called megachurches, those averaging more than 2,000 people in weekly attendance, have grown astronomically in number. Over the same span of time, however, the percentage of Americans who identify as Christian has declined. Growth, it seems, has not necessarily meant depth. Visibility has not guaranteed faithfulness.

That tension sparked a necessary discomfort. When churches begin to measure success primarily by attendance, influence, or cultural relevance, the danger is subtle but severe: leaders can start serving crowds rather than Christ. The church, in that case, becomes a stage instead of a stewardship.

Paul’s fourth chapter in 1 Corinthians lands squarely in that uncomfortable space. Writing to a fractured, pride-soaked congregation, Paul closes his first extended exhortation with a reminder as bracing as it is liberating: God’s servants are accountable to God, not to human applause (cf. 1 Corinthians 4:1–5).

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was obsessed with status. Public honor, rhetorical skill, wealth, and social hierarchy shaped everyday life. Teachers gathered followers the way philosophers gathered disciples, and prestige traveled with proximity to power.

The Corinthian church absorbed these instincts almost instinctively. Believers began aligning themselves with particular leaders, Paul, Apollos, Cephas, not because of theological disagreement, but because of perceived superiority (1 Corinthians 1:12). Pride masqueraded as discernment. Boasting hid beneath the language of wisdom.

Paul responds by reframing leadership entirely. Apostles are not celebrities. Pastors are not performers. Elders are not brand managers. They are stewards, a word that implies ownership belongs elsewhere. A steward manages what is not his own and answers to the one who entrusted it.

This is why Paul refuses both praise and condemnation from the Corinthians. “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court.” (1 Corinthians 4:3; ESV). That line is not arrogance; it is accountability properly placed.

Walking the Passage

Jonathan Land highlighted the surprising joy that comes when we are finally released from what he called the tyranny of human opinion.

If God alone is the final judge, then no crowd can crown you, and no critic can cancel you. That truth does not eliminate correction or discipline. Paul himself makes space for both. But it radically reorders whose voice carries ultimate weight.

In verses 14–15, Paul shifts from sharp rebuke to fatherly care. He warns the Corinthians not to shame them, but to remind them who they belong to. He distinguishes between countless guardians and a single spiritual father. The difference is relational responsibility.

Discipline, when rightly practiced, is not punishment, it is love with direction.

Jonathan pressed this point carefully. Correction is necessary, but it must mirror the heart of God. Leaders are called not merely to speak truth, but to take responsibility for the people they shepherd. Paul writes hard letters because he feels the weight of the churches he helped establish. Encouragement and rebuke are not opposites; they are companions.

This also clarifies the purpose of the church itself. The church does not exist to keep people happy for a week. It exists to point people to God, proclaim truth, and name error when repentance is required. Most of Paul’s letters exist precisely because he refused to confuse love with silence.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers bristle at Paul’s language here, hearing authoritarianism rather than pastoral care. History gives us reasons to be cautious. Churches have misused spiritual authority, equating accountability to God with immunity from critique.

Paul, however, does not claim unchecked power. He submits himself to God’s judgment and invites scrutiny of faithfulness, not charisma. His authority is cruciform: shaped by suffering, service, and sacrifice (1 Corinthians 4:9–13).

Any reading of this passage that justifies domineering leadership has missed Paul’s point entirely.

The Turn

Midway through the chapter, Paul exposes the engine driving Corinthian arrogance: boasting in what was never earned.

“What do you have that you did not receive?” (1 Corinthians 4:7).

Paul returned to this point from the previous week because it dismantles pride at the root. Gifts, talents, opportunities, even life itself, are received, not achieved. When we boast in them, we reveal not confidence but insecurity. We announce our fear that what we have might not be enough.

Spiritual maturity, Paul insists, comes from recognizing that God does not withhold from His children. He gives generously what they need. The tension, of course, is that what we need rarely aligns with what makes us feel best in the moment.

Jonathan framed this with clarity: God gives us what is best for us, not what flatters us.

Discipline, then, is not cruelty. It is kindness with a long horizon. As Scripture consistently testifies, God is too kind to leave His children in sin and shame. Correction is one of the tools a loving Father uses to redirect hearts toward life.

To make the point tangible, Jonathan offered a simple analogy. We are not the chefs; we are the waiters. We cannot boast in what we bring to the table, because everything we serve comes from the kitchen. The beauty of the meal reflects the skill of the one who prepared it.

Song of the week:

Our song of the week took longer to find than I would like to admit. The call to worship for sermon reflection below guided us to Deuteronomy 28 where the blessings of obedience to God are laid out. But after the promises of blessings, come the warnings of curses for disobedience. Fast forward to Galatians 3:13 and Paul states, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.” This is echoed in Joy to the World with the lyrics: “He comes to make His blessings flow. Far as the curse is found.”

However, most modern takes on Joy to the World take this verse out, and it’s tragic. This verse reminds us of the curses that we deserve, but because of Jesus coming to us in the form of a baby at Christmas, living a perfect life, and dying a death He didn’t deserve, all those curses are now paid for in Him. So this Christmas, try and listen to a version with this verse in it so that you can be reminded of the weight of what we celebrate in the coming of the Messiah at Christmas!

Paul closes the chapter by addressing those who are loud but hollow: all talk, no walk. He frames the issue not as eloquence, but as power.

“For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power” (1 Corinthians 4:20; ESV).

This power is not dominance or spectacle. It is the transforming work of the Spirit, evident in humility, repentance, obedience, and love. Paul echoes this elsewhere when he warns Timothy about people who appear religious but “deny the power thereof” (2 Timothy 3:2-5).

Jonathan pressed this uncomfortably close to home. If we speak confidently about God while quietly doubting the power of the Spirit to change us, we are not walking in the Spirit at all. We are performing spirituality without submitting to it.

The call, then, is refocus. Return to dependence. Exchange noise for nearness.

Carry It Into the Week

Paul ends his exhortation on pride the same way he began it: Christ alone.

Nothing but Christ is worthy of boasting. Nothing but Christ is sturdy enough to rely on. Nothing but Christ can free us from the shifting guises of worldly approval.

As Advent gives way to Christmas, this truth sharpens. The incarnation is not God endorsing human greatness; it is God entering human weakness. The Savior comes not to amplify our platforms, but to empty Himself for our redemption (cf. Philippians 2:5–11).

To celebrate Christmas faithfully, then, is to resist the instinct to center ourselves, even spiritually. It is to receive rather than achieve. To serve rather than shine.

Nothing but Christ, in all things.

Week in Reflection

As Christmas arrived this week, families and friends gathered to mark the season and reflect on the birth of Jesus, the event that gives the holiday its meaning. Amid the exchange of gifts and time spent around decorated trees, the celebration ultimately points back to that moment in Bethlehem and the reason people come together each year.

Connection Church held its annual Christmas Eve service, featuring congregational singing and the reading of the Christmas story. The service underscored the significance of worshiping in community, an experience that carries a depth and energy difficult to replicate through a screen or a radio broadcast in your solitude. For those who were unable to attend a Christmas Eve service this year, it is an experience worth planning for in the year ahead.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Only as Strong as the Foundation

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Dec 14, 2025.

In 1 Corinthians 3, Paul confronts a church proud of its leaders but careless with its foundation. During the third week of Advent, that ancient warning presses uncomfortably close to home.

At the front of the room sat an image of massive skyscrapers, the Petronas Towers, their steel and glass reaching confidently into the sky. But Jonathan Land began not with their height, nor their beauty, but with what no one sees: a foundation plunging more than a football field into the earth.

Buildings, he reminded us, are only as good as what they’re built on.

That image framed the message at Connection Church Sioux Falls, as the congregation turned to 1 Corinthians 3, where Paul continues his first major “hot topic” for the Corinthian church: pride. Not the loud kind, but the subtler, more dangerous variety. The kind that baptizes immaturity, celebrates rivalry, and mistakes gifted leaders for sources of life.

Paul’s argument is not abstract theology. It’s architectural. And like all good construction warnings, it’s meant to be heard before the cracks show.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was a city that prized status, rhetoric, and public acclaim. Teachers gathered followings the way modern influencers gather subscribers. Eloquence mattered. Reputation mattered. Who you belonged to mattered.

So when the gospel took root in Corinth, those cultural instincts came along for the ride.

Paul had planted the church (Acts 18). Apollos, an eloquent Alexandrian preacher, followed and taught with notable rhetorical skill (Acts 18:24–28). Instead of receiving both as gifts from God, the Corinthians began sorting themselves into camps: Paul people, Apollos people, Cephas people, and perhaps most dangerously, “Christ” people who believed their spirituality placed them above correction (1 Corinthians 1:12).

Paul doesn’t deny differences in gifting. He denies that those differences justify division, pride, or immaturity.

And in chapter 3, his tone sharpens, not because the church lacks knowledge, but because they refuse to grow.

Walking the Passage

1. You Can Be “in Christ” and Still Act Worldly

Paul opens with an unsettling diagnosis:

But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. (1 Corinthians 3:1, ESV).

This is not a rebuke of unbelief. It’s a rebuke of arrested development.

Jonathan drew a necessary distinction: Jesus invites us to come like children (Matthew 18:3), but Scripture never calls us to remain childish. Childlikeness trusts. Childishness resists growth.

Spiritual immaturity, Paul insists, shows itself not in ignorance but in jealousy and strife (1 Corinthians 3:3). In other words, you can confess Christ sincerely and still operate according to the instincts of the world.

Jonathan named a reality many quietly feel, myself included: spiritual maturity does not track with age. Younger believers may display deeper humility, repentance, and obedience than those who have been around church longer. When that realization stings, Paul would say the sting is mercy.

Conviction, rightly received, is an invitation to grow — not a justification for resentment.

God, in His kindness, refuses to leave His children in infancy. Hebrews reminds us that discipline is a mark of sonship, not rejection (Hebrews 12:6). Jonathan illustrated this with the refining of metal: impurities do not leave without heat. Likewise, God may destroy immature attachments, not to punish, but to mature.

2. God Alone Gives the Growth

Paul’s agricultural metaphor cuts through both pride and despair:

“I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:6).

Leaders are not the soil. They are servants.

Paul doesn’t minimize Apollos’ gifts, he acknowledges them. Apollos was a compelling speaker. Paul was not (cf. 2 Corinthians 10:10). Yet neither skill produces spiritual life.

Jesus says the same in different terms: seeds are sown; soils receive; God brings life (Mark 4:26–29).

This dismantles two common errors.

The first is leader worship: crediting spiritual growth to charisma, personality, or style.

The second is leader despair: believing faithfulness failed because visible results lag.

Both misunderstand the role God assigns. Plant faithfully. Water diligently. Trust God with the harvest.

3. Christ Is the Foundation

Paul shifts metaphors from agriculture to architecture:

“For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:11).

Scripture consistently names Jesus as the cornerstone. The critical stone by which the entire structure is aligned (Isaiah 28:16; Psalm 118:22; Ephesians 2:20).

But Paul adds a warning often overlooked: a solid foundation does not guarantee a sound structure.

“Let each one take care how he builds upon it” (1 Corinthians 3:10).

You can be “in Christ” and still build poorly: using materials shaped by pride, competition, or self-promotion. Those materials may look impressive now, but Paul says a day is coming when the quality of each work will be revealed (1 Corinthians 3:13).

Salvation rests on Christ alone. But faithfulness is tested.

4. We Are God’s Temple

Here Paul’s language becomes corporate:

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16).

The “you” is plural. Paul is speaking not primarily about individual piety, but the church as a unified dwelling place of God.

This makes division more than unfortunate. It makes it dangerous.

To fracture the church through pride, immaturity, or rivalry is to treat lightly what God calls holy.

Later in the letter, Paul will address individual holiness (1 Corinthians 6:19). Here, the warning is communal. How we treat one another shapes the integrity of the temple God inhabits.

5. Worldly Wisdom Creates Rivalry; Christ Creates Abundance

Paul lands the plane with a command as clear as it is countercultural:

“So let no one boast in men” (1 Corinthians 3:21).

The Corinthians boasted in proximity to famous teachers. Paul redirects them to a stunning truth: everything already belongs to them in Christ (1 Corinthians 3:21–23).

Why compete when the inheritance is shared?

Jonathan posed the question plainly: Why boast about knowing anyone else when we know Jesus? The eternal Son who entered the world as an infant, lived without sin, died for sinners, and reigns over all things (Philippians 2:5–11).

Worldly wisdom hoards status. Christ gives abundance.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some interpreters argue Paul’s rebuke applies only to early-stage believers and not to mature churches today. But Paul grounds his argument not in timing, but in behavior. Jealousy, factionalism, and pride remain marks of worldliness regardless of how long a church has existed.

The passage confronts not newness, but resistance to growth.

The Turn

Advent trains our eyes downward before it lifts them upward.

The Corinthians wanted height: status, recognition, and alignment with impressive leaders. Paul takes them underground, to the unseen foundation already laid.

Growth begins there. Unity begins there. Maturity begins there.

Christ does not merely start the structure. He sustains it.

Song of the week:

The opening lines of Corey Asbury’s “Only Jesus For My Pain” read like a personal testimony, tracing a familiar arc of searching, disappointment, and surrender. “I must have tried most everything. It ended all the same,” Asbury sings, distilling a reality many know too well, myself included: the pursuit of purpose in places that ultimately cannot deliver it.

For years, that search played out in predictable patterns. Pain was numbed with alcohol. Loneliness and depression were met with relationships that promised connection but offered only temporary relief. Each attempt ended the same way, short-lived escape followed by deeper disappointment. The answers were being sought in the world, not in Jesus, and the result was always a crash.

That cycle came to a head during my final crash, a divorce, a moment that mirrored the song’s closing refrain: “And every single road I take leads right back to this place. Only Jesus for my pain.” What once sounded like a lyric became a lived confession.

Today, the pain still exists when life wounds or disappoints. What has changed is my response. By God’s grace, alcohol has been absent for more than two years, and relationships are now approached with a commitment to purity and intention rather than escape. The circumstances are not magically erased, but the way they are carried has been transformed by Jesus.

Only Jesus For My Pain doesn’t give us a false promise of a life without hurt. Instead, it points to a deeper truth: Jesus may not remove the pain, but He reshapes how it is faced. The journey is ongoing, perfection is not the goal, and failures are still present. But each step forward is a step closer to living out the song’s simple, hard-earned conclusion: Only Jesus is enough for the pain.

Carry It Into the Week

Stop measuring spiritual health by visibility or platform. Examine the materials you’re building with, such as habits, attitudes, and loyalties. Invite God to refine what cannot endure fire.

And when conviction comes, receive it as kindness.

Week in Reflection

This week’s reflection is brief but meaningful. As the calendar edged closer to Christmas, the days were filled with workplace gatherings and white elephant exchanges at Bible study, small moments that collectively served as a powerful reminder of how blessed I am to be surrounded by supportive coworkers and faithful friends. In the midst of a busy season, their presence offered both encouragement and perspective.

As the holiday arrives this coming week, my hope is simple. Everyone experiences a Christmas marked by joy, safety, and peace. And above all, a reminder worth carrying beyond the season…

God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: Walking by Faith in a World That Won’t Believe Its Eyes

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Dec. 7th, 2025.

Paul insists that the wisdom of God cannot be acquired, mastered, or reverse-engineered, it must be given. In this second week of Advent reading of 1 Corinthians 2, we explore walking by faith, not by sight.

Advent always invites us to wait for what we cannot yet see. In 1 Corinthians 2, Paul meets us there, insisting that our deepest need is not more information but a new way of perceiving reality. Jonathan Land opened this week’s sermon with a surprising analogy drawn from particle physics: to the initiated, the language of quarks and gluons makes sense, even if imperfectly. To the uninitiated, it sounds like science fiction.

Paul says something similar about the gospel. To those who have been “called” into God’s presence, the cross makes sense. To those who have not, it sounds absurd. And Advent, with its strange promises of virgin births and world-remaking hope, sharpens that tension.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was a city where knowledge was currency. Orators sold prestige by spinning arguments so clever that spectators could judge them like sport. Teachers gathered followings based on rhetorical brilliance. Status was built on what you could prove, demonstrate, or display.

Into that world, Paul announces a message that refuses to play by Corinth’s rules. The gospel is not a philosophy to master but a revelation to receive. Paul draws a stark line between:

• Knowledge (the what and how)

• Wisdom (the why — the God-grounded meaning beneath all things)

In the honor-driven air of Corinth, that distinction was offensive. True wisdom, Paul claims, is not the product of human inquiry but the gift of God’s Spirit. Despite how fully Corinth prized cognitive mastery, Paul says its operating system cannot access the wisdom of God at all.

This is why he names the rulers of the age, those with maximum access to knowledge, and says plainly that if they had possessed God’s wisdom, they would not have crucified “the Lord of glory” (1 Cor. 2:8). Worldly wisdom and God’s wisdom cannot coexist; one inevitably kills the other.

Walking the Passage

Paul writes as someone painfully familiar with how impressive spiritual sight can feel, and how empty it can prove. In Acts 18 we learn that his Corinthian ministry came amid weakness and fear, not rhetorical grandeur. His message, he insists, rests not on “plausible words of wisdom” but on “a demonstration of the Spirit and of power.”

This is the heart of the chapter: wisdom is not acquired; it is given. Paul anchors this claim in Scripture…

• Proverbs 1:7: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.”

• Proverbs 9:10: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

• James 1:5: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God… who gives generously to all.”

If wisdom comes through fearing the Lord, through awe, surrender, and rightly ordered reverence, then wisdom is not the reward of intellectual accomplishment but the fruit of divine revelation.

Here Paul turns to the Spirit. The Spirit “searches everything, even the depths of God” (1 Cor. 2:10). Only the Spirit can reveal what God is doing; only the Spirit can teach us to see. This is why Jonathan’s particle-physics analogy lands so well. Without the Spirit, the gospel story looks implausible. With the Spirit, it becomes luminous and intelligible, like learning the language of a new universe.

Many of us, myself included, have said or at least thought: If I had been there to see Jesus’ miracles, I would have believed. Jonathan names the hard truth: sight alone cannot produce faith. Many who saw Jesus did not believe him. Many who witnessed Old Testament signs remained unmoved. Apart from the Spirit’s gift of wisdom, even miracles can look like nonsense.

A Fair Counter-Reading

A fair counter-reading raises the question: Doesn’t Paul risk anti-intellectualism here? Could this text be misused to reject legitimate study, scientific inquiry, or theological rigor?

Yes, if weaponized, Paul’s distinction between wisdom and knowledge can be twisted into an excuse for spiritual laziness. But Paul never diminishes the value of learning. His own letters reveal training in Hebrew Scripture, Greco-Roman rhetoric, and rabbinic tradition. What he rejects is not study but self-sufficiency. He opposes any system that assumes human perception alone can grasp God’s mind.

In other words, Paul is not anti-intellectual; he is anti-autonomy. Knowledge becomes dangerous not because it is wrong, but because it can deceive us into thinking we do not need God.

The Turn

Advent reframes Paul’s argument. A God who chooses to enter the world as a vulnerable infant is the ultimate challenge to human assumptions. A Messiah who conquers through crucifixion overturns the logic of both ancient Corinth and modern life.

Paul is forcing a choice of posture. What guides our lives: sight or faith? Information or illumination? Mastery or surrender?

And here is his pastoral turn: sin convinces us that blindness to God’s truth is normal. It persuades us to trust ourselves. It entices us to treat worldly knowledge as the ultimate truth. But if Paul is right, then real healing begins not with learning more but with receiving something we cannot manufacture.

This is the story of Advent: God gives what we cannot obtain. Wisdom is not earned; it is granted to those who fear the Lord and ask. God is generous with this gift. He gives it freely to those He calls.

Carry It Into the Week

So the invitation this week is simple and demanding:

Ask.

Ask for wisdom. Ask for the vision only the Spirit can give. The kind that sees Christ rightly and sees the world through the cross rather than through cultural pressure. Proverbs says that wisdom begins with fear of the Lord. James says God gives wisdom to those who lack it. Paul says the Spirit reveals what God has prepared for those who love Him.

Walk by faith, not sight. Not because sight is evil, but because sight alone cannot reveal the depth of God’s purposes. And in Advent, this season of waiting for what we cannot yet see, God forms us into people who trust His wisdom over our own understanding.

Song of the Week: Dusty Bibles - Josiah Queen ft. Avery Anna

Josiah Queen has quickly become one of my newer must listen to artists, largely because his lyrics speak directly into the digital age we are all a part of. The chorus rings so true today, “We got dust on our Bibles. Brand new iPhones. No wonder why we feel this way.” It’s a sentiment many Christians recognize, myself included.

I’ve found the same pattern in my own life. Missing one day in Scripture might not register immediately, but by day three or four, the absence becomes noticeable. Life feels heavier, darker, less grounded. Even using a Bible app can create its own challenges; the phone becomes a gateway to distractions, turning time in the Word into just another task to check off.

Josiah’s chorus drives the point home: “I’m done with those idols and dusty Bibles.” It’s a reminder that anything, work, entertainment, even family, can become an idol when it takes your attention away from God.

My hope this week is simple: that we resist letting dust gather on our Bibles, set aside the idols that compete for our attention, and turn our focus back to Him.

Week in Reflection

This week brought a mix of exhaustion, conviction, and ultimately, clarity. After weeks of heavy snowfall left several volunteers unable to serve, I found myself covering at church for the third consecutive Sunday, including one weekend that required double duty. The unexpected workload highlighted a familiar tension: single members often shoulder the extra responsibilities. Yet a fellow single volunteer reframed the moment, reminding me that this season allows for a kind of spontaneous service that helps the church thrive. The fatigue is real, but so is the privilege of being able to serve when needed to further His church.

Childcare during Bible study added another layer of strain. Still processing the recent loss of my uncle, I expected time with the kids to offer a welcome shift in focus. Instead, their restlessness and repeated interruptions to the overall group left me feeling overwhelmed and inadequate. A group member stepped in with perspective, assuring me the disruptions weren’t nearly as dire as I imagined and that without childcare, the study couldn’t happen at all. It was a reminder of the grace others extend when we struggle to extend it to ourselves.

The week culminated in a rare flash of anger at a close friend and roommate. Frustration fueled less by the specific inconveniences and more by months of unspoken expectations. From long-delayed chores to a mishandled parking situation during the snowstorm, every small annoyance converged at once. None of the issues were serious, but they revealed a deeper truth. My roommate couldn’t know what bothered me because I had never clearly brought them up.

Looking back, each moment (the overextended serving schedule, the chaotic childcare shift, the household tension) pointed to areas where I need growth. Better communication. A more patient posture. A clearer understanding that my time, energy, and relationships are gifts from God, not burdens to bear alone.

My prayer this week is for openness: to see my availability to serve as a blessing, to accept encouragement from the community around me, and to address conflict with honesty and grace.

And as always, remember… God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: When Power Looks Like Weakness, Advent at the Foot of the Cross

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Nov. 30, 2025.

As Advent begins, Paul’s opening argument in 1 Corinthians 1:18–2:5 confronts our modern hunger for power and wisdom and replaces it with a cross-shaped wisdom strong enough to gather the most diverse location into one family.

The opening week of Advent arrives with its usual invitation to slow down, take stock, and watch for God’s coming. But Paul doesn’t begin slowly. In 1 Corinthians 1:18–2:5, he drives straight into tension, into a confrontation with the way we instinctively make sense of the world. It is the first of the apostle’s “hot topics,” a section Jonathan Land notes will shape the trajectory of everything Paul addresses in the upcoming chapters. I recommend watching the sermon to get a good glimpse of what is to come!

This is not merely an ancient argument. It’s the seasonally appropriate reminder that the God who arrives in a manger, and later hangs from a Roman cross, does not align with our expectations of strength, success, or sophistication. Advent read through Corinth is Advent without sentimentality: God comes, but not on our terms.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was a city of movement, a transient hub crowded with travelers, merchants, sailors, soldiers, and migrants, where identities shifted and loyalties were loose. One could describe it as one of the most culturally and economically diverse centers of the first century. A place affected by imperial politics, global trade, and constant turnover.

Against that backdrop, the existence of a stable, multiethnic church was nothing short of miraculous. No shared ethnicity. No common social class. No unified professional background. The only unifying factor was Christ Himself.

This is part of Paul’s point: only a crucified and risen Messiah has the gravitational pull to gather such scattered people into one community. Corinth wasn’t designed for lasting relationships, yet the gospel formed them anyway.

For modern readers — Connection Church included — the parallel is obvious. Many of us also believed we were “just passing through.” Yet God plants us, gives us people, and teaches us that real community is something He builds, not something we manufacture.

Walking the Passage

Paul begins sharply:

“For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (ESV)

There are, he insists, only two kinds of people, those drifting toward destruction and those being rescued. He backs this with Scripture, quoting Isaiah 29:14 to show that God has always overturned human systems of wisdom and power.

Then Paul draws out the cultural divide:

• Jews seek signs of power: proof that God is as strong as they expect

• Greeks seek wisdom: logic that flatters their philosophical confidence

But God refuses both demands. “We preach Christ crucified” (vv. 22–23). A Messiah executed as a criminal? A divine Son humiliated? For many Jews, it’s a scandal. For Greeks, it’s nonsense.

And yet this is the paradox at the heart of the gospel: What the world calls weak is actually God’s strength, and what the world calls foolish is indeed God’s wisdom.

Paul echoes Isaiah 55:8–9: God’s thoughts are not our thoughts. The cross, therefore, is not an obstacle to be explained away. It is the explanation. We do not climb our way to God, not by intelligence, not by power, not by moral achievement. He comes down to us.

God’s Choice of the Unlikely

In verses 26–31, Paul points directly at the Corinthians’ own resume.

• Not powerful

• Not impressive

• Not socially elite

• Yet chosen

God deliberately selects “what is low and despised,” not to shame them, but to empty human boasting. The church’s existence, then and now, is a living exhibit of divine grace. If God saves the unlikely, then no one is beyond His reach. Meaning there are no lost causes. Advent reminds us that the God who arrives in obscurity still builds His kingdom through the overlooked and underestimated.

Jonathan Land’s Four Advent Exhortations

Jonathan’s pastoral reflections capture Paul’s momentum:

1. Reflect on who you are apart from God.
   We do not deserve mercy; therefore, everything we’ve received is a gift.

2. Worship instead of boasting in yourself.
   Spiritual gifts, material blessings, community, skills: none of these are self-earned.

3. Embrace the “foolishness” of the cross.
   Be willing to be a broken record, even unfashionable, about Christ.

4. Come to Jesus with only your sin.
   Grace is not for the impressive; it is for the honest and repentant.

   

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some interpreters propose that Paul is not rejecting wisdom itself, but only the Corinthian obsession with status-producing, self-congratulatory wisdom. In this reading, the apostle is not anti-intellectual; he is anti-elitism. The cross expresses not irrationality but a counter-cultural rationality shaped by divine revelation, and Paul’s argument aims to re-center the church’s identity on Christ rather than on impressive rhetoric.

This view reminds us that scholarship, reason, and education remain gifts of God, so long as they serve the gospel, not try to replace it.

The Turn

Paul shifts in 2:1–5 from theological argument to personal testimony. When he first arrived in Corinth, according to Acts 18, he came exhausted, vulnerable, and unimpressive. No slick presentation. No “celebrity apostle” veneer. He preached “in weakness and in fear,” yet his message carried power because its source was God, not Paul’s charisma.

This is the heart of his appeal…

Faith must rest on the power of God, not the performance of His messengers.

Advent, too, trains us to look past surface-level grandeur. Christ came in weakness, yet it was enough to save the world.

Carry It Into the Week

In a season shaped by marketing campaigns, Christmas lists, and cultural noise, Paul helps re-align our Advent posture:

• Weakness is not failure when it becomes a place for God’s power

• Humility is not self-neglect; it is honesty before the One whose wisdom exceeds our understanding

• The cross is not outdated; it is the daily orientation point for gospel, community, and mission

So let Paul’s closing line shape your Advent prayer:

“That your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.”

Song of the Week: Scars in Heaven - Casting Crowns

This week has carried a particular heaviness, and a familiar song has helped ease some of that weight. News came that my uncle had passed away. While grief naturally follows the loss of someone loved, there is an even stronger sense of peace in knowing he is now with God. The song’s chorus captures that balance between sorrow and hope:

The only scars in Heaven, they won’t belong to me and you

There’ll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new

And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down

Is that the only scars in Heaven are on the hands that hold you now

As I write this, the sadness of his absence is still present, yet it’s tempered by the conviction that he is in heaven, reunited with his parents and, for the first time in years, walking freely. That assurance shifts the grief into something closer to hope, even a quiet sense of longing, knowing he has stepped out of a broken world and into the presence of Jesus. The song echoes this perspective with the line, “Until I’m standing with you in the sun, I’ll fight this fight and this race I’ll run.”

It’s a reminder that God’s purpose continues for those of us who remain. Some are called home earlier than we expected, but those still here are tasked with continuing the work, running the race set before us. And while the farewell is painful, the hope of reunion endures to those in Christ.

Week in Reflection:

In the days following my uncle’s passing, finding words to summarize the spiritual week has been difficult. Yet one theme remains constant: the conviction that God’s goodness persists, even in seasons of sadness. Deuteronomy 31:8 (NIV) affirms that “the Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

For anyone walking through loss or navigating a period of sorrow, that promise offers steady reassurance.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

I Hope everyone had an amazing Thanksgiving with family and friends! But if you didn’t, just remember you still have so many things to be thankful for.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Sermon Reflection: When the Church Fractures

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Nov. 23, 2025. (watch here)

Paul’s opening remarks to a fractured Corinthian church confronts our own appetite for personalities, platforms, and competition. His antidote is as urgent now as it was then: cling to Nothing but Christ.

On November 23, 2025, Pastor Jonathan Land of Connection Church (Sioux Falls) led our community through 1 Corinthians 1:10–17, a passage often introduced gently but never read gently. Paul’s tone is urgent, almost fatherly, pulling the believers of Corinth back from the brink. They were splintering, aligning themselves with favored leaders, and fracturing into spiritual sub-tribes. Two thousand years later, the details have changed, but the dynamics have not. We still drift toward cliques, camps, and curated allegiances unless something stronger than preference connects us.

Paul’s remedy is not technique. His answer is not conflict mediation. His correction is not even a strategy for unity. It is a Person.

Christ, and the cross He endured, stands at the center of the passage and the center of Paul’s appeal.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth in the first century was a bustling crossroads of wealth, commerce, migration, and religious variety. Social mobility was possible, but it demanded relentless self-promotion. Teachers, philosophers, and orators toured the region, gathering followings much like today’s influencers. Public life was structured around patronage: you aligned yourself with someone powerful, and that affiliation shaped your identity.

Against this backdrop, Paul founded a church where people who had once competed for honor and visibility were now called to see themselves as one Body. Yet old habits persisted. Reports reached Paul (likely through Chloe’s people) that factions had formed, some loyal to Paul, some to Apollos, some to Cephas (Peter), and some claiming superior fidelity to Christ Himself.

The cultural forces behind this fracturing were not random. They mirrored the honor-driven dynamics of Corinthian society: the desire to follow someone impressive, to belong to the “right” group, to secure approval through association.

Paul does not shrug at this. He sounds the alarm.

Walking the Passage

Paul begins with an appeal, not a command: “I appeal to you, brothers…” (1 Cor 1:10, ESV). Apostolic authority does not overshadow family affection. He asks them to be “of the same mind and the same judgment,” which is not a call to uniform personality but to a unified purpose. Paul echoes Jesus’ warning in Matthew 12:25 that a divided house cannot stand.

Then he names the issue. He has heard of quarrels among them. Not disagreements. Quarrels. A community that had once gathered around the risen Christ now argued over which teacher they most admired. Paul does not dismiss the value of leaders like Apollos or Peter; elsewhere he celebrates their faithfulness. But he refuses to let any messenger overshadow the message.

Then comes his scalpel-like set of questions, sharp enough to cut through any era’s spiritual posturing:

“Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” (1 Cor 1:13, ESV)

This is the turning point of the whole section. Paul’s rhetorical questions expose the absurdity of personality-driven faith. Only one person was crucified for them. Only one name was invoked in their baptism. Their allegiance should be to Christ alone.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some interpreters argue that Paul overstates his concern, that the Corinthians weren’t fractured in doctrine but only in preference, and therefore the rebuke shouldn’t be applied too universally. But this reading underestimates both the social power of factionalism in Roman society and Paul’s theological insistence that the cross dismantles all grounds for boasting (cf. 1 Cor 1:18–31). Even if the divisions began as personality preferences, Paul saw the spiritual rot beneath them: misplaced loyalty leads to misplaced identity. And misplaced identity leads to a malformed church.

The Turn

Pastor Jonathan identified three practical dangers that still draw believers toward the gravitational pull of cliques. Each a distortion of discipleship. Each pulling our gaze from the cross.

1. Don’t mindlessly follow.

When we follow personalities uncritically, we drift. Not because the leader is necessarily unhealthy, but because the human heart tends to exalt what is visible and forgets what is eternal. We are called to follow leaders who point to Jesus, not leaders who inadvertently (or intentionally) point to themselves.

2. Don’t try to impress.

The desire to impress is a treadmill with no off-switch. Impress someone and you must impress again. Fail to impress and your identity shatters in rejection. Paul’s correction is liberating: our approval is fixed in Christ. God’s love is not earned by performance but given freely by grace. Impressiveness is not a fruit of the Spirit, it’s the worm that eats at it.

3. Don’t compare.

Comparison operates like a carnival funhouse mirror: it either inflates pride or shrinks self-worth. As Theodore Roosevelt famously said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” It is also the thief of unity. When we focus on what others have, or what they seem to have, we lose sight of the unrepeatable gifts God has entrusted to us. Comparison stokes envy; gratitude extinguishes it.

Paul’s larger aim becomes clear:

• Follow Nothing but Christ

• Seek approval from Nothing but Christ

• Measure yourself by Nothing but Christ

Anything else, personality, preference, performance, divides what the gospel was meant to unite.

Carry It Into the Week

Paul’s rebuke is pastoral, not disciplinary. It is an invitation to reorder our lives around the cross again. For Connection Church, rooted in the gospel · community · mission framework, this means:

• Gospel: Christ crucified is the only foundation strong enough to hold the weight of our identities.

• Community: Unity is not sameness but shared allegiance. We do not gather around leaders, demographics, or affinities, but around Jesus.

• Mission: A divided church blurs the beauty of the gospel before a watching world. A united church makes Christ visible.

Spiritual cliques may feel natural, even inevitable. But the Spirit makes a different way possible. Paul’s words call us to walk it.

Week in Reflection

This week, members of my Bible study group had the pleasure to spend an afternoon volunteering with Operation Christmas Child, a global outreach effort organized by Samaritan’s Purse. While there we assisted donors as they dropped off shoebox gifts, helping unload contributions ranging from single boxes to large bulk donations, and loading them into trailers bound for a regional processing center.

While the work is practical, we tried to emphasize that the effort extends beyond logistics. Each drop-off provided an opportunity to pray with donors and acknowledge their contribution to the ministry’s broader mission. Every shoebox delivered through Operation Christmas Child is ultimately matched with a child who may otherwise never receive a Christmas gift.

The initiative is built around more than the distribution of toys and personal items. Before children receive their boxes, they participate in The Greatest Gift, a program designed to introduce them to the Gospel message in a format tailored for younger audiences. The ministry considers this teaching component the heart of its mission, with the gift boxes serving as a tangible extension of that message.

I am so thankful for every individual who assembled a box this season, as each contribution represents a child who will hear about Jesus, many for the first time. Those interested in learning more or preparing to participate in next year’s effort can explore the resources linked above!

Ben’s Song of the Week: Thank You - Ben Rector

As families across the country gathered for Thanksgiving this week, not everyone experienced the picture-perfect family holiday. Yet we should attempt to emphasize a consistent theme this season, even in heartache: thankfulness endures, even in difficult moments.

This week’s featured song underscores that idea with the lyric, “Life is hard sometimes, I don’t know what to say. So thank you.” The message resonates with listeners who face uncertainty, offering a reminder that thankfulness is not reserved for ideal circumstances, but in all circumstances.

Even when God’s plans feel unclear and questions outnumber answers, the song points back to a central conviction, that God has been faithful, and there remains much to be thankful for. This is echoed in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 (NASB), where Paul writes, “In everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” Scripture draws a distinction that often gets overlooked: believers are called to give thanks in all circumstances, not for all circumstances. Gratitude isn’t meant to romanticize hardship, no one is expected to celebrate a job loss or a car accident. Instead, the call to thankfulness reflects a deeper confidence echoed in Romans 8:28 (NIV), which affirms that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” With that perspective in mind, the hope is that you were able to find moments of genuine thankfulness this holiday season, regardless of your circumstances.

And just remember, God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

This week’s reflections turn personal, tracing a journey that began in 2020, when a divorce left me at what felt like the lowest point of my life. “Rock bottom” barely captured the depth of the isolation and depression that followed. Yet in that season, I also became acutely aware of a constant presence I had long taken for granted: God’s.

A particular song has since become emblematic of that period. Its chorus mirrors the questions and eventual clarity that shaped my path forward:

“Lord, why are you keeping me here?” Then He said to me, “Child, I’m planting seeds. I’m a good God and I have a good plan. So trust that I’m holding a watering can. And someday you’ll see that flowers grow in the valley.”

In the years since, I’ve watched those “seeds” grow in ways that could only be God’s hand in motion. The heartbreak ultimately led me back to my faith. Do I wish I would have done this on my own accord and not through divorce, Yes. Do I believe God did this because it was the only way for me to see Him again, Maybe. But at the end of the day, I am so grateful that it happened. Just as the song says, I’ve started thanking God for the rain in my life because I now get to see the flowers that come from it.

One year after the divorce, I purchased a home. At the time, in a frenzied housing market, it felt like settling. But circumstances quickly suggested otherwise. My neighbor, Scott, whose early conversations with me included stressful discussions about fencing and dead trees, turned out to be a man deeply rooted in his faith. While we compared landscaping projects, he extended a simple invitation to attend church with him.

Little did I know that accepting that invitation would alter the trajectory of my life. At Connection Church, I found a community defined by love, support, and authenticity. The Gospel Community (what we call a Bible study) I joined soon became a spiritual home, leading me to become a covenant member of Connection. The timing felt uncanny; the impact, incomprehensible. While I thought I was settling, God was moving mountains.

So just remember, whatever valley you may be in right now, God is still planting seeds that will blossom into beautiful flowers in your life. They just take time to grow.

Ben’s Spiritual Song of the Week: Flowers - Samantha Ebert

Sermon Reflection: Nine Verses, Nine Turns to Christ — The Identity We Can’t Lose

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Nov. 16, 2025. (watch here)

This week we focus on 1 Corinthians 1:1-9. Only the salutation section of the letter, but as is Paul’s custom, even this is littered with encouragement and intentionality.

Jonathan Land opened this week’s sermon with a line many at Connection Church have come to love: “When we open the Bible, it tends to open us.” It is hard to find a passage where that is more true than the opening nine verses of 1 Corinthians.

Paul hasn’t yet corrected anything. He hasn’t challenged their divisions, confronted their moral failures, or untangled their theological confusion. Before all of that, he does something far more radical: he tells them who they are.

And in a culture like ours, where identity is treated as self-constructed, self-curated, and self-defined, Paul’s greeting feels like fresh water after a long drought. Before Paul deals with their behavior, he re-anchors their identity. This order matters.

Walking the Passage

In these nine verses, Paul references Christ nine times. It’s not accidental; it’s architectural. The entire letter, its encouragement, corrections, and comforts, rests on this foundation.

Paul calls them “the church of God”, a phrase that asserts belonging before performance. He speaks of them as “called to be saints,” not because they are particularly impressive, but because God is particularly gracious. As Jonathan observed, “Our gifts are not proof that we are great but that God is immensely gracious.”

Identity is not something they discover. It is something they receive.

This is the subversive beauty of biblical identity: God’s thoughts about us are more stable than our feelings about ourselves.

For years, my sense of identity was defined by my divorce and the belief that it marked me as a failure. Yet over time, I found that the faithfulness of God proved stronger than any personal shortcoming. Within many Christian communities, this idea is central: an identity rooted in Christ offers a stability that our own shifting emotions cannot.

Believers often point to Scripture’s assurance that God’s view of humanity, created in His image, remains steady regardless of how we or others may judge ourselves. In contrast, today’s cultural messages frequently emphasize “finding yourself” or “living your truth.” But any identity built apart from God is ultimately fragile, shaped by trends that inevitably fade and let you down.

For Christians, the call is instead to discover who we are in God and to embrace the purpose He sets before them, an identity we believe is enduring, grounding, and unshakable.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some interpreters argue that Paul’s tone in these verses is largely strategic or even ironic, an intentional setup for the stern rebukes to follow. There’s a measure of literary truth in that: Paul often uses contrast.

But the weight of the text suggests sincerity, not sarcasm. His thanksgiving is not manipulative; it is missional. Paul knows that correction without identity crushes. Identity without correction deceives.

By placing grace first, he ensures that the Corinthians understand the heart of God before hearing the discipline of God.

The Turn

Jonathan framed the theme memorably: “Tender hearts and titanium spines.”

Tender hearts, because Christian identity frees us to repent, to grow, and to receive grace without defensiveness.

Titanium spines, because Christian identity equips us to endure misunderstanding, hostility, and cultural pressure. In Faith in Focus #2, we were reminded that Christian truth “tends to offend before it transforms.”

This is not a call to be abrasive; it’s a call to be anchored. When your identity is in Christ, not in the approval of crowds or the curation of a personal brand, you can stand firm without becoming hard.

And this is precisely why identity-in-Christ is unshakable: Everything the world says about you is temporary. Everything God says about you is eternal.

Carry It Into the Week

Our culture’s refrain, “find yourself,” “live your truth,” “create your identity”, promises freedom but delivers exhaustion. If identity is self-made, it is also self-maintained.

Paul gives us something sturdier:

• You are called by God.

• You are kept by Christ.

• You are sustained by the Spirit.

Your gifts are not proof of your greatness but of God’s grace. You don’t earn His approval. You don’t craft your calling. You don’t achieve your belonging. So don’t strive to reinvent yourself to appease culture. Don’t build an identity on wounds or wins. Let the One who calls you to also define you. And when you open Scripture this week, trust that it will open you, with tenderness, truth, and the sustaining grace that carries you to the end.

Week in Reflection:

This week, God put Psalm 118:24 in front of me, which declares, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” The verse, often quoted in moments of encouragement, echoes the assurance found in Lamentations 3:22-23: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

Together, the passages frame each day as a fresh invitation to rejoice! For those carrying the weight of a difficult yesterday, the message is straightforward: God’s mercies reset with each sunrise, offering a renewed chance to meet the day with praise rather than discouragement.

So my prayer for us all this week is that we would start the day by waking up, and immediately thanking God for His new mercies and to rejoice in the day He has made for us!

And remember that God loves you, and so do I.

Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.

Follow Ben, and subscribe to Intellectual Dissatisfaction to receive next week’s edition.

Nothing but Christ: Origin Story of the Corinthian Letters

Based on Jonathan Land’s sermon, Connection Church Sioux Falls, Nov. 9, 2025. (watch here)

Before Paul ever wrote to Corinth, he lived among its chaos — broke, opposed, and uncertain. But Acts 18 shows how God builds a church not through comfort, but through confrontation and divine endurance.

Every letter has an origin story. Before 1 Corinthians ever arrived in a scroll sealed with wax, Paul had already walked its streets, built his tents, and had been dragged before its courts. Acts 18:1–22 tells that story — the messy, miraculous birth of a church in what could only be called the Las Vegas of the Roman Empire.

Corinth was famous for its freedom and infamous for its moral chaos. To call someone a “Corinthian” was a public insult, shorthand for indulgence without restraint. And yet it was there — of all places — that God decided to plant one of the most theologically rich churches in the New Testament.

Jonathan Land opened our new series, Nothing but Christ, by tracing this moment when Paul’s second missionary journey (Acts 15–18) collided with the wild heart of Corinth.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth sat on a narrow isthmus connecting northern and southern Greece, a strategic corridor for trade. It was wealthy, cosmopolitan, and deeply pagan. The temple of Aphrodite loomed over the city, and worship often blurred into prostitution and profit.

Paul arrived there not as a celebrity apostle, but as a weary traveler. Luke records that he worked as a tentmaker (Acts 18:3), earning his keep until Silas and Timothy arrived with financial support, likely from the Philippian church (cf. Philippians 4:15–16). What looked like failure—manual labor instead of ministry — was actually God’s provision.

Then came divine reassurance:

“Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent, for I am with you…” — Acts 18:9–10, ESV

That promise would anchor Paul for eighteen months of teaching, debate, and discipleship in Corinth — an unusually long stay for him.

Walking the Passage

When the synagogue turned hostile, Paul moved next door — literally. He began preaching in the house of Titius Justus, a Gentile who lived beside the synagogue (v. 7). The shift was both symbolic and strategic: the gospel was moving beyond ethnic boundaries.

And then came the twist. Crispus, the ruler of that same synagogue, believed (v. 8). Imagine the public shock. The leader of Jewish worship in Corinth abandoning his pulpit to follow the crucified Christ. The text doesn’t tell us how the congregation reacted — but we can guess.

A new ruler stepped in: Sosthenes. Soon after, the city’s Jewish leaders brought Paul before Gallio, the Roman proconsul — a man with the authority of a governor. The charge? “This man is persuading people to worship God contrary to the law.”

But Gallio’s answer changed everything.

“Since it is a matter of questions about words and names and your own law, see to it yourselves. I refuse to be a judge of these things.” — Acts 18:15, ESV

His indifference became the church’s protection. Rome, at least for the moment, had no interest in silencing the Gospel. The irony deepened when the crowd turned on Sosthenes, beating him in front of Gallio’s tribunal (v. 17).

And that’s where Acts leaves the story. Paul departs; the church remains. But when we turn the page to 1 Corinthians 1:1, there it is again:

“Paul, called by the will of God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus, and our brother Sosthenes…”

Was it the same man? Scripture doesn’t say definitively — but the symmetry is hard to miss. The beaten synagogue ruler is now Paul’s co-author. Grace had flipped the story.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some scholars caution that “Sosthenes” was a common name, and we shouldn’t overstate the connection. The literary and historical link might be thematic, not personal — a narrative echo reminding readers that persecution and redemption are never far apart in God’s economy.

Yet even if Luke and Paul refer to different men, the theological truth holds: God transforms opposition into partnership. The Gospel that divided the synagogue also seeded its renewal.

The Turn

Jonathan Land reminded us that Acts 18 is more than ancient history — it’s the opening act of Nothing but Christ. The Corinthians began their story amid confusion, scandal, and the clash of cultures. So did we.

Here are the gospel patterns woven through the passage:

1. God’s plan cannot be stopped. Poverty, persecution, and politics could not derail the mission.

2. When human wisdom ends, divine wisdom remains. What looks like failure often sets the stage for revival.

3. God offends before He transforms. His truth confronts before it comforts, drawing clear lines before healing.

4. God’s word divides before it unites. The split between Paul and the synagogue eventually made room for shared faith, as echoed by Jesus in Luke 12:51–53.

Carry It Into the Week

The Corinthian church’s story is our story. We are planted in cultures that often mirror Corinth’s contradictions — wealth beside despair, freedom beside emptiness. Yet Acts 18 declares that the Gospel doesn’t wait for ideal soil.

If God can raise partners out of persecution and joy out of injustice, He can certainly move in the modern equivalents of Corinth: the corporate boardroom, the college campus, the family dinner table.

The call remains the same as in Paul’s vision:

“Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent.”

Because Nothing but Christ isn’t just a sermon series — it’s a way of life.

Ben’s Spiritual Song of the Week: Counting My Blessings - Seph Schlueter

This song serves as a powerful reminder that the blessings God pours into our lives are truly beyond measure. When we take a moment to pause and reflect, even the most ordinary frustrations can become opportunities to recognize His goodness.

Don’t enjoy doing the dishes? Be thankful there was food to eat. Feeling weighed down by new responsibilities at work? Remember the gift of having a job. Frustrated about rising property taxes? You’re blessed to have a home to care for.

It’s not about ignoring life’s difficulties or pretending that hardship doesn’t exist. We’re human, discomfort and frustration are natural responses. But once the initial sting fades, shifting focus toward gratitude can transform our outlook. Each day carries countless blessings, often hidden in the places we least expect to find them.

The Week in Reflection:

About a year ago, I was blessed with the opportunity to step into a new role as a Team Lead for our church’s Hospitality Team at Connection Church. While our team is known for brewing coffee, selling books and shirts, and greeting people at the door, our mission goes far deeper, creating a welcoming space where genuine connection can happen the moment someone walks in.

Recently, all of our Team Leads, from Worship to Kids Ministry to Facilities, gathered for a shared meal and a night of community. Between laughter and conversation, we were given a set of discussion questions to guide us through what leadership really means within the church. These moments are always special, not just for the wisdom shared, but for the sense of unity that comes from seeing everyone who serves alongside you.

The Three Pillars of Leadership

If you’ve ever served in a leadership role, in the church or outside of it, you know it’s more than just managing people or tasks. At its core, leadership is three things:

1. Leadership is discipleship.

2. Leadership is storytelling.

3. Leadership is being a culture carrier.

For me, the first one bleeds into the other two. Discipling others isn’t just about leading, it’s about sharing stories that point people toward what God is doing around us. And for those who aren’t natural talkers, discipleship often happens through example: how you serve, how you act, and how you treat others.

One discussion point that stood out during our meeting was time management, specifically, the simple act of being on time. I’ve always believed in the old Coach Carter saying: “If you’re on time, you’re late.” To me, being early is a sign of respect, preparation, and priority. When someone isn’t on time, it’s not really about excuses, it’s about what their choices reveal about their priorities. And priorities, in turn, reflect beliefs.

One major takeaway for our church was this: Always be recruiting.

With multiple services each weekend and countless moving parts behind the scenes, it takes many hands to make Sundays happen. As Connection continues to grow by the grace of God, our serving teams must grow as well.

Serving, after all, isn’t just a task, it’s a biblical calling. Scripture reminds us of this truth in Matthew 20:26: “...but whoever would be great among you must be your servant.” And again in Mark 10:45: “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.”

A Call to Action

So here’s my challenge for the week: if you’re not already serving in your local church, take that step. Talk to someone. Ask where you can help. It’s not about servicing ourselves, it’s about serving others as Christ served us.

And remember, God loves you, and so do I.