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

At first glance, 1 Corinthians 16:1-12 can feel like housekeeping at the end of Paul’s letter. But beneath the travel plans and financial instructions sits a deeply practical vision of resurrection hope shaping our generosity, priorities, and relationships.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, May 10, 2026.

The Gospel in Your Wallet, Schedule, and Relationships

Some passages feel electric the moment you read them. 1 Corinthians 15 is one of those chapters. Resurrection. Victory over death. The promise that Christ will return and mortality will put on immortality. It is theology with thunder in its lungs.

Then we arrive at 1 Corinthians 16:1-12.

Offerings. Travel plans. Timothy. Apollos. Logistics.

If we are honest, it can feel anticlimactic. Like the cinematic ending already happened and now the credits are rolling. Yet Scripture has a way of exposing our shallow assumptions about what matters. The same Spirit who inspired the soaring theology of resurrection also inspired these seemingly ordinary instructions.

And that is precisely the point.

Paul refuses to separate glorious theology from everyday life. Resurrection hope is not merely a doctrine to celebrate on Easter Sunday. It is a reality that changes bank accounts, calendars, open doors, and relationships. The Corinthians were not meant to admire resurrection from a distance. They were meant to embody it in their ordinary rhythms.

In many ways, this passage becomes a diagnostic tool. If the resurrection is truly our hope, then it should become visible in how we steward money, how we hold our plans, and how we treat people.

The World Behind the Text

Paul wrote 1 Corinthians to a fractured church living inside one of the most influential cities in the Roman Empire. Corinth was wealthy, competitive, status-driven, and spiritually confused. The church itself reflected many of those same cultural instincts. Throughout the letter Paul addresses division, sexual immorality, pride, abuse of spiritual gifts, and confusion about the resurrection.

By chapter 16, Paul begins landing the proverbial plane. But he does not conclude with abstract theology alone. Instead, he turns toward practical faithfulness.

The collection mentioned in 1 Corinthians 16:1-4 was likely tied to financial relief for struggling believers in Jerusalem. This was not a side project. It was an expression of gospel unity between Jewish and Gentile Christians across regions and cultures. Paul viewed generosity as evidence that the church truly understood grace.

Then come the travel plans in verses 5-9. Paul discusses Macedonia, Ephesus, and future hopes while acknowledging opposition. Ministry opportunity and adversity exist side by side.

Finally, Paul speaks about Timothy and Apollos in verses 10-12. Earlier in the letter, the Corinthians had divided themselves into factions around Christian leaders. Some claimed Paul. Others claimed Apollos. Paul dismantled that tribalism by reminding them that leaders are merely servants of Christ. Now, near the end of the letter, he circles back to relational unity in deeply practical language.

What appears random is actually connected. Paul is showing what resurrection-shaped community looks like in real life.

Walking the Passage

Paul begins with money.

“On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up, as he may prosper” (1 Corinthians 16:2 ESV).

Notice how universal the instruction is. Paul does not limit generosity to the wealthy. Every believer is called to participate according to what God has provided. Biblical generosity is not measured by comparison with others. It is measured through faithful stewardship.

One of the most striking ideas from this week’s message was the reminder that our income is not ultimately a wage. It is an inheritance.

Psalm 24:1 declares that the earth and everything in it belongs to the Lord. Our resources are not truly ours in an ultimate sense. They are entrusted to us by God. The Christian posture toward money is not ownership but stewardship, which challenges both greed and fear.

Greed says accumulation is life. Fear says generosity will leave us empty. Resurrection hope speaks against both lies. If Christ defeated death itself, then we are freed from clinging desperately to temporary security. Generosity becomes an act of trust. We give because we believe God is faithful.

Interpretation matters here. Paul is not prescribing a simplistic prosperity formula where generous people automatically become financially wealthy. Rather, he is showing that grace transforms how believers relate to possessions.

The resurrection loosens our grip on material things because eternity has already interrupted the present.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some Christians read passages about generosity primarily through the lens of obligation. Others react against that by avoiding structured giving altogether, emphasizing spontaneity instead.

Both instincts can miss the balance of Paul’s teaching.

Paul clearly encourages intentional and regular generosity. “On the first day of every week” implies planning and consistency. Yet his language also avoids coercion. Elsewhere, Paul says God loves a cheerful giver in 2 Corinthians 9:7.

Christian generosity is neither transactional nor performative. It is worshipful. The same balance appears in how Paul discusses plans.

Verses 5-7 reveal that Paul has desires and intentions regarding future ministry. Christianity is not anti-planning. Wisdom often requires preparation, structure, and discipline. Yet Paul also leaves room for God’s sovereignty.

Modern life often swings between two extremes. Some people drift through life without intentionality. Others attempt to control every second with exhausting precision. Paul models something different. He plans faithfully while remaining flexible before the Lord.

“For a wide door for effective work has opened to me, and there are many adversaries” (1 Corinthians 16:9 ESV).

That verse disrupts many shallow assumptions about God’s will.

We often assume open doors should lead to comfort. If resistance appears, we may wonder whether we misunderstood God entirely. But Paul experienced both opportunity and opposition simultaneously.

The presence of adversity does not automatically mean God is absent.

Sometimes the clearest evidence of meaningful kingdom work is the existence of resistance against it. The world remains broken. Spiritual opposition is real. Faithfulness does not guarantee ease.

That truth is deeply important for weary believers. Parents discipling children. Church members serving quietly. Christians pursuing integrity in hostile workplaces. Faithfulness can involve friction.

Resurrection hope does not promise an easy road. It promises that suffering and opposition will not have the final word.

Paul then turns toward relationships.

“When Timothy comes, see that you put him at ease among you” (1 Corinthians 16:10 ESV).

That phrase carries warmth. Paul is not merely asking the Corinthians to tolerate Timothy. He is calling them to create an atmosphere of peace and welcome.

Make him feel at home.

In a divided church, that command becomes profound. Earlier in Corinthians, people weaponized spiritual leaders to create factions and status groups. Now Paul reminds them that gospel community should produce unity rather than rivalry.

Apollos appears again in verse 12. Earlier, the Corinthians elevated him into a competing banner against Paul. Yet there is no bitterness between these leaders. No celebrity warfare. No territorial insecurity.

Only partnership in Christ.

That vision feels desperately relevant today. Churches can still drift into camps built around personalities, preferences, and tribes. Paul reminds believers that resurrection hope should produce humility and hospitality instead.

Because Jesus rose from the dead, Christians do not need to treat one another like competitors.

The Turn

What makes this passage beautiful is that Paul refuses to separate theology from ordinary life. The resurrection is not merely future hope. It is present foundation.

It shapes how we spend money when nobody is watching. It shapes whether our schedules leave room for interruption and obedience. It shapes whether people experience peace in our presence or tension when we enter the room.

That last part hit especially hard this week.

What kind of atmosphere do we create around us?

Paul wanted Timothy to be “at ease” among the Corinthians. Imagine if churches became known for that kind of culture. A place where anxious people could breathe. A place without constant drama, suspicion, or performance. A people shaped by grace rather than ego.

Resurrection people should carry resurrection peace. Not because life is easy, but because Christ is alive.

The empty tomb means we no longer need to live from scarcity, fear, or tribalism. Christ has already secured our future. That frees us to become radically generous, deeply hospitable, and courageously faithful.

Even in ordinary things. Especially in ordinary things.

Carry It Into the Week

Most of life is not lived in dramatic spiritual moments.

It is lived in schedules, conversations, grocery budgets, text messages, meetings, and interrupted plans. 1 Corinthians 16 reminds us that discipleship happens there too.

So ask yourself:

Does my relationship with money reflect trust in God or fear of losing control?

Do my plans leave room for obedience, interruptions, and people?

Do others feel at ease around me?

The resurrection is not only something we believe. It is something we practice. And sometimes the clearest evidence of eternal hope is found in the ordinary faithfulness of everyday life.

Song of the Week: All Around Me - Flyleaf

I’ve realized lately that most of my song choices have lived in a very specific lane of worship music. The polished, radio friendly, soft instrumental style that most people immediately think of when they hear the phrase “Christian music.” But worship has never really been a cookie cutter experience. The beauty of music centered around faith is that it can exist in so many different sounds, styles, and emotions while still pointing directly back to God. Sometimes worship sounds like a quiet piano ballad. Other times it sounds like distorted guitars, heavy drums, and raw emotion pouring out through every lyric. That is where bands like Flyleaf come in.

Formed in 2002, Flyleaf carved out a unique space in music by blending hard rock and alternative metal sounds with deeply spiritual and emotional themes. They were one of the few bands that could comfortably exist on Christian rock charts while also finding massive success in mainstream secular rock spaces. For a lot of listeners, especially younger Christians trying to find music that reflected both their faith and their struggles, Flyleaf became something entirely different than the traditional worship bands of the time. Their music was honest. It was messy. It wrestled with pain, identity, hopelessness, healing, and redemption in ways that felt real instead of polished.

The song this week, “All Around Me,” may honestly be one of the clearest examples of that balance. On the surface, it sounds like a passionate love song. But underneath every lyric is a longing for connection with God and the overwhelming experience of being consumed by His presence. Lead singer Lacey Sturm has openly confirmed that the song is about experiencing the love and presence of God in an intimate and transformative way.

Knowing Lacey’s testimony gives the song even more weight. Before finding faith, she struggled deeply with depression, hopelessness, and suicidal thoughts during her teenage years. She has shared how her grandmother brought her to church during one of the darkest moments of her life, and that encounter with God completely changed the direction she was heading. Instead of finding an ending, she found hope. Instead of silence, she found purpose. And you can hear pieces of that journey all throughout Flyleaf’s music.

That is part of what makes “All Around Me” so impactful. It doesn’t feel theoretical or manufactured. It feels lived in. The lyrics sound like someone who has genuinely experienced healing after being completely broken.

The chorus especially captures that feeling perfectly:

“I can feel You all around me
Thickening the air I’m breathing
Holding on to what I’m feeling
Savoring this heart that’s healing.”

Even if someone is not religious, those words carry an undeniable emotion. The imagery alone is incredible. God’s presence is described as something so overwhelming it changes the very air around us. Not distant. Not detached. Completely surrounding us. Filling every space we occupy. There is something beautiful about the idea that God is not merely watching from afar, but actively sustaining us with every breath we take while slowly healing the broken places in our hearts.

I think that is why this song continues to resonate with so many people years later. It does not hide pain, but it also does not leave you there. It acknowledges wounds while reminding listeners that healing is possible. And sometimes worship music needs to sound exactly like that. Not polished perfection, but honest surrender.

For me, songs like this are an important reminder that faith centered music does not have to fit into one sound or one formula to point people toward God. Sometimes the message hits hardest through screaming vocals, crashing cymbals, and emotional transparency. Worship can be quiet reflection, but it can also be desperation, intensity, and raw gratitude for being pulled out of darkness.

And honestly, that may be what Flyleaf does best.

Week in Reflection

This week was filled with incredible moments of fellowship with other Godly men. Not just during the weekly men’s group I attend every Friday morning, but also through Connection’s Men’s Summit, which centered around the challenge Paul gives in 1 Corinthians 16:13-14 to be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong, and let everything we do be done in love. It perfectly connected with our current walk through 1 Corinthians during Sunday services, making the entire week feel intentionally woven together by God.

There is something powerful about being in a room full of men who are genuinely seeking Jesus. In a world that often tells men to suppress emotion, pursue selfish ambition, or define strength through dominance, gatherings like this remind us what Biblical manhood actually looks like. Real strength is found in surrender to Christ. Real courage is standing firm in faith when culture pushes against it. Real leadership is serving others with humility and love.

What stood out most throughout the summit was the camaraderie. The conversations, the laughter, the honesty, and even the vulnerability created an atmosphere that is difficult to put into words. Men from different backgrounds, different seasons of life, and different struggles all came together with one common focus: learning how to better follow Jesus and lead lives that honor Him. There is encouragement that comes from realizing you are not fighting alone. Every discussion held served as a reminder that God designed us for community, not isolation.

One of the most impactful parts of the week was seeing how openly men were willing to challenge and encourage one another. Iron sharpens iron is more than just a catchy phrase; it is something you can actually feel when surrounded by brothers in Christ who genuinely want to see each other grow spiritually. There was no competition, no pretending to have life perfectly together, just men pursuing God and helping one another stay centered on Him.

The summit also reinforced how important it is for men to lead spiritually in every area of life. Whether as husbands, fathers, friends, coworkers, or simply representatives of Christ in everyday interactions, we are called to reflect Jesus through both strength and love. That balance can sometimes feel difficult, but Scripture never separates the two. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians remind us that standing firm and being strong should always be paired with love. Without love, strength becomes pride. Without strength, love becomes passive. Christ demonstrated both perfectly.

Walking away from this week, I feel encouraged, challenged, and grateful. Encouraged by the brotherhood that was built, challenged to continue growing into the man God calls me to be, and grateful for a church community that invests so intentionally into men pursuing Jesus together. Weeks like this are reminders that faith was never meant to be lived alone. God uses fellowship, accountability, and shared worship to strengthen us in ways we often do not realize until we experience it firsthand.

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

Death, Where Is Your Sting? Living in the Victory of Christ

In one of the most triumphant passages Paul ever wrote, 1 Corinthians 15:50-58 pulls back the curtain on resurrection, victory, and the future waiting beyond death. What begins with the limits of flesh and blood ends with a promise that every act done in Christ matters forever.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, May 3, 2026.

Some Bible passages feel calm and reflective. Others feel like standing too close to a lightning bolt.

1 Corinthians 15:50-58 is one of those passages.

Jonathan described these verses as what some scholars call the “electric eel” section of Paul’s resurrection argument. The image fits. Everything in this text crackles with movement and power. Paul is not merely explaining doctrine. He is erupting into victory.

Before opening the deeper meaning of the text, Jonathan used an analogy of the Mariana Trench, the deepest known place in the ocean. Human beings cannot simply drift into those depths. The pressure would crush us instantly. Specialized vessels are required because ordinary human bodies are incapable of surviving that environment.

Paul says something similar about eternity.

“I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God” (1 Corinthians 15:50 ESV).

The apostle is not insulting the physical body. Christianity has never taught that material existence is evil. In fact, the resurrection of Jesus stands at the center of Christian faith because God redeems creation rather than abandoning it. The issue is not physicality itself. The issue is corruption.

Our present bodies are fragile, mortal, vulnerable, and bound to decay. They cannot survive the full weight of eternity any more than a diver can withstand the pressure of the Mariana Trench without transformation.

Paul’s point is not that we escape embodiment. It is that we receive a new kind of embodiment.

And that changes everything.

The World Behind the Text

By the time Paul reaches the end of 1 Corinthians 15, he has spent an entire chapter defending the resurrection. Some within the Corinthian church struggled to believe in a future bodily resurrection at all. Influenced by strands of Greek philosophy that viewed the body as disposable or inferior, they could imagine spiritual survival but stumbled over physical renewal.

Paul refuses to surrender the physical reality of resurrection because the Gospel itself depends on it.

Earlier in the chapter, he argues that if Christ has not been raised, Christian faith collapses entirely (1 Corinthians 15:14 ESV). Resurrection is not an optional doctrine sitting quietly at the edge of Christianity. It is the foundation beneath every promise God has made.

Now, near the chapter’s conclusion, Paul moves from argument into celebration.

“Behold! I tell you a mystery” (1 Corinthians 15:51 ESV).

In Scripture, a mystery is not something unknowable. It is something previously hidden that God now reveals. Paul unveils a future reality the Corinthians could never have discovered on their own. Not every believer will physically die before Christ returns, but every believer will be transformed.

“In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet” (1 Corinthians 15:52 ESV).

The language is explosive and immediate. Resurrection is not gradual self improvement. It is divine intervention.

Paul then reaches back into the Old Testament, weaving together Isaiah 25:8 and Hosea 13:14 into a taunt directed at death itself:

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55 ESV).

This is not denial. Paul knows death is real. He has buried friends. He has suffered persecution. He understands grief intimately. Christianity never asks believers to pretend death is harmless. Instead, Paul declares that death has become defeated territory because of Jesus.

Walking the Passage

One of the most important details in this passage is how comprehensive Christ’s victory actually is.

We often think about salvation only in future terms. One day suffering will end. One day death will stop happening. One day pain will cease.

Paul goes further.

Jonathan pointed out that the resurrection does not merely prevent future death. It completely overturns death’s reign altogether. Christ’s resurrection reaches backward, forward, and outward. Past, present, and future all fall under His victory.

“The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26 ESV).

Not managed. Not negotiated with. Destroyed.

That matters because death feels final to us. Every funeral argues that decay wins. Every graveside whispers that time consumes everything eventually. Human history itself can feel like one long surrender to loss. But Paul insists the resurrection of Jesus changed the trajectory of reality itself.

The empty tomb was not merely a miracle for one man in first century Jerusalem. It was the opening strike in God’s war against death.

This is why Paul can speak so boldly.

“The perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality” (1 Corinthians 15:53 ESV).

Notice the language. Paul does not describe believers escaping humanity. He describes humanity being remade. Resurrection is not subtraction. It is fulfillment.

Jonathan compared this victory to the way sports fans say, “We won,” even though they never stepped foot on the field. Most of us understand the emotional logic of that language. Fans identify so deeply with the team that its victory feels shared. But Paul says union with Christ is far deeper than fandom.

“We” truly do share in Christ’s victory because believers are united to Him. His resurrection becomes our resurrection. His triumph becomes our triumph. His future becomes our future.

“Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57 ESV).

Not “might give.” Not “could give.” Gives.

The victory is already secured even while we still await its full completion.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some Christians interpret passages like this symbolically, arguing that resurrection language primarily describes spiritual renewal rather than a future bodily resurrection. Others view Paul’s imagery as metaphorical language meant to inspire hope during suffering.

It is true that Paul uses poetic and apocalyptic imagery throughout his writings. And Christians should avoid speculative obsession about exactly what resurrected bodies will look like.

But historically, orthodox Christianity has consistently understood 1 Corinthians 15 as teaching a real future bodily resurrection. The Apostles’ Creed affirms “the resurrection of the body,” while the Nicene Creed declares belief in “the life of the world to come.”

Paul’s argument throughout the chapter also depends on continuity between Christ’s physical resurrection and the believer’s future resurrection. If Jesus physically rose, then resurrection is not merely symbolic comfort. It is cosmic reality.

That hope should ground Christian endurance.

The Turn

Paul does something fascinating at the end of the chapter. After unveiling cosmic victory over death itself, he lands not on abstract theology but ordinary faithfulness.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 15:58 ESV).

Because resurrection is true, everyday obedience matters.

Without resurrection, Paul says elsewhere, human existence collapses into despair and appetite. “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die” (1 Corinthians 15:32 ESV). If death has the final word, meaning eventually dissolves.

But if Christ rose from the dead, then nothing done in Him is wasted.

Jonathan emphasized this beautifully. Without the resurrection, nothing we do matters. But because of the resurrection, everything we do in Christ matters.

Every unseen act of service.

Every prayer whispered through exhaustion.

Every confession of sin.

Every difficult act of forgiveness.

Every meal shared in gospel community.

Every moment spent discipling children.

Every sacrifice made for mission.

None of it disappears into the void.

“In the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58 ESV).

That sentence alone has carried generations of Christians through suffering, obscurity, persecution, and grief.

Because resurrection means God wastes nothing.

Song of the Week: Blessings - Laura Story

To be honest, it’s crazy to think this song is 15 years old, because it doesn’t feel dated at all. If anything, it feels like it’s aged into something deeper, like truth that’s been tested and proven over time. And maybe that’s why it keeps resurfacing. It’s not just nostalgic; it’s necessary.

Looking back over the songs of the week lately, there’s definitely been a pattern of joy, perseverance, and trusting that God is still working when life doesn’t feel the best. And that lines up with where my story has actually been shaped the most. A lot of my growth with Jesus didn’t come from comfort, it came after my divorce. It came in the moments where I didn’t have easy answers, where faith wasn’t a feeling but a decision. So it makes sense that these are the songs that hit the hardest for me. They’re not just good songs. They’re honest ones.

And that’s why Laura Story’s “Blessings” still stands out as one of the originals that really tackled this idea head on. There’s no sugarcoating in it. It doesn’t try to rush past pain or wrap it up in a cliché. Instead, it asks the kind of questions most of us are already thinking but are sometimes afraid to say out loud.

“What if Your blessings come through raindrops? What if Your healing comes through tears?”

That line alone changes how you think of everything. It challenges the way we naturally define “blessing.” Because if we’re honest, we usually associate blessings with comfort, success, and things going our way. But this song flips that on its head and points to the fact that maybe God’s work is happening most powerfully in the exact places we’d rather avoid.

And then it lands on the final thought, “What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?”

That’s not an easy truth to accept. It doesn’t make the pain go away, and it doesn’t make hardship suddenly enjoyable. But it does give it purpose. It reminds us that God isn’t absent in suffering. He’s often doing His deepest work there. Refining, reshaping, drawing us closer, stripping away the things we thought we needed so we can actually see that He’s enough.

For me, that’s why this song still holds a top spot in my playlist. It met me in a real place, and it continues to meet me there. Not with shallow encouragement, but with a perspective shift that keeps pointing back to trust. Because sometimes faith isn’t about understanding what God is doing. It’s about believing that even in the rain, even in the tears, He’s still being good.

Carry It Into the Week

Most of us do not spend our days thinking about resurrection bodies. We think about bills, deadlines, anxiety, parenting, loneliness, physical pain, uncertainty, and exhaustion. Death often feels distant until suddenly it does not.

But Paul’s vision changes how believers walk through ordinary life.

The resurrection means your future is not fragile.

The resurrection means death is not ultimate.

The resurrection means Christ’s victory already reaches into your present struggles.

And perhaps most importantly, the resurrection means faithfulness matters even when results feel invisible.

In a culture obsessed with measurable success, Paul offers something sturdier than achievement. He offers permanence rooted in Christ.

You may not see immediate fruit from your obedience. You may not feel powerful or significant. You may feel painfully ordinary.

Still, your labor in the Lord is not in vain.

Not because you are strong enough.

But because Jesus walked out of the grave.

Week in Reflection

This week I began my journey on a new team at church, and even though I’ve spent the better part of a decade working call center and phone based jobs, this felt completely different. In past jobs, the goal was usually solving a problem, making a sale, or getting through a queue as efficiently as possible. But these calls felt more consequential. These weren’t just customers on the other end of the line, they were people searching for connection, community, and maybe even hope. That realization made my first dial feel far more nerve racking than I expected.

It’s funny how nerves can show up even in situations we’re technically prepared for. I know how to carry conversations. I know how to listen, ask questions, and make people feel comfortable on the phone. Yet the moment I picked up the phone for that first call, I could feel my heart racing. There was this internal pressure of wanting to represent both the church and Jesus well. I didn’t want these conversations to feel scripted or forced. I wanted people to genuinely feel welcomed and cared for.

Out of the five people I had the blessing of calling this week, three answered. While I was internally freaking out before each conversation started, something shifted the moment people picked up. The conversations felt natural almost immediately. Instead of feeling like a task to complete, it became an opportunity to simply share about a church that I’ve truly fallen in love with. Talking about what God has done in my life and the community I’ve found here didn’t require some polished speech or perfect wording. It just flowed naturally out of gratitude.

What really stood out to me afterward was the perspective God gave me. At first, five calls felt overwhelming because it was new territory. But then I realized something incredible: five separate people had enough courage and curiosity to fill out a Get Connected card because they wanted to know more about our church. In a world where so many people feel isolated, skeptical, or hesitant to walk into a church building, that step matters. Each card represents a person with a story, questions, struggles, and a desire for something more.

That realization changed the way I viewed this role entirely. It’s not about making phone calls. It’s about opening doors for connection. It’s about helping people feel seen before they ever step into a Sunday service. It’s about creating opportunities for relationships that could genuinely change someone’s life through the love of Christ and the support of a church family.

I’m excited to see where God takes this new position going forward. Not because I think I’ll suddenly become the perfect caller or have all the right words every time, but because I already see how God can work through simple acts of obedience. Something as ordinary as picking up a phone can become ministry when God is at the center of it. And if this was only week one, I can’t wait to see the stories and connections He continues to build in the weeks ahead.

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

What if death is not the destruction of the body, but its transformation? In 1 Corinthians 15: 35-49, Paul invites us to see the grave not as an end, but as a planting.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, April 26, 2026.

Seeds in the Ground, Glory to Come

It felt a little morbid this week, but in a way that lingered with quiet hope rather than dread. We stepped into 1 Corinthians 15: 35-49, where Paul presses deeper into a question most of us avoid until we can’t.

What happens to our bodies after we die?

We live in a culture that swings between denial and obsession when it comes to death. We either avoid the topic entirely or pour endless energy into delaying it. But Paul does neither. He faces death directly, not to glorify it, but to strip it of its power.

Because for resurrection to mean anything, death has to be real. And yet, Paul insists that death is not the final word.

The World Behind the Text

Corinth was a city shaped by competing philosophies about the body. Some Greek thought treated the body as a temporary shell, something to escape. Others valued physical strength and appearance as ultimate markers of worth. Into that tension, Paul speaks a radically different vision.

In 1 Corinthians 15: 35, he anticipates the questions people are already asking. How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?

These are not abstract questions. They are deeply human ones. What will I be like? Will I still be me? Will anything of this life carry forward?

Paul doesn’t dismiss the questions. But he does challenge the assumptions behind them.

His response in 1 Corinthians 15: 36 is sharp, “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies."

Paul reframes death not as interruption, but as transformation. The fear of losing everything is met with the promise that something greater is coming, even if we can’t see it yet.

Walking the Passage

Paul reaches for an image that would have been familiar to everyone listening. A seed.

In 1 Corinthians 15: 37-38, he describes how what is sown is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel. And yet, God gives it a body as He has chosen.

A seed looks nothing like the plant it becomes. You could hold it in your hand and never guess the life hidden inside. But its future is not random. It’s intentional.

There is continuity between what is buried and what is raised, but also change. Our current bodies matter, but they are not the final version of who we are.

Paul expands the idea further in 1 Corinthians 15: 39-41, pointing out the diversity of bodies in creation. Humans, animals, birds, fish, even heavenly bodies all have different kinds of glory.

This matters because it breaks the assumption that there is only one kind of physical existence. God is not limited in what He can create or recreate.

Then Paul brings it home in 1 Corinthians 15: 42-44.

“What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable.
It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory.
It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.
It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.”

Paul is not contrasting physical versus non physical. He is contrasting what is fallen with what is redeemed. A spiritual body is still a real body, but fully animated by the Spirit of God.
The brokenness we experience now is not permanent. Weakness, decay, and suffering do not define our future.

This is where the morbid tone shifts into something beautiful. The grave is not the end of the story. It is the planting.

Jonathan’s analogy of a seed captures this perfectly. You cannot look at a seed and imagine the full-grown plant. In the same way, we cannot fully comprehend what our resurrection bodies will be like. But Scripture is clear that we will have them.

Paul continues in 1 Corinthians 15: 45-49 by contrasting Adam and Christ. The first man was from the earth, a man of dust. The second man is from heaven.

And then the promise. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven

Resurrection is not just about restoration. It’s about transformation into the likeness of Christ. Our future is not merely improved humanity. It is participation in the life of the risen Jesus.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some traditions interpret Paul’s language about a spiritual body as meaning a non physical or purely spiritual existence. This view emphasizes the soul’s immortality over bodily resurrection.

That perspective takes seriously the distinction Paul makes between natural and spiritual. It also resonates with long standing philosophical ideas about escaping the material world.

However, the broader context of 1 Corinthians 15 resists that conclusion. Paul anchors resurrection in the bodily resurrection of Jesus himself in 1 Corinthians 15: 3-8. If Christ was raised physically, then the pattern for believers follows the same trajectory.

The gravity of the passage leans toward continuity and transformation rather than abandonment of the body. Christian hope is not escape from creation, but renewal of it.

The Turn

This is where the passage presses into our lives now.

If our future includes a resurrected body, then our current bodies are not meaningless. They are not costumes we wear temporarily. They are part of God’s good creation, even in their brokenness.

At the same time, we do not place ultimate hope in them. They are sown perishable.

For those experiencing strength and health, it calls for humility in that these bodies will fade. For those experiencing weakness, disability, or suffering, it offers dignity in that these bodies are not the final word.

Because of the resurrection, suffering does not get the last laugh. Death does not get the final claim.

In 1 Corinthians 15: 54 later in the chapter, Paul will say that death is swallowed up in victory. That victory begins here, in the promise that what is buried is not lost.

It is being prepared.

Song of the Week: I Still Need Jesus - After Grace

After Grace has made a song that feels less like something you casually listen to and more like something that quietly confronts you. It’s the kind of message that doesn’t just sit in the background but lingers. It presses a little. And honestly, I think it’s something more people need to hear than they realize.

There’s a subtle drift that can happen in the Christian life. Not a loud rejection of faith, not a dramatic falling away, but a slow coasting. Things are going fine. Life is stable. Prayers get shorter, dependence gets lighter, and before long, faith becomes more of a backdrop than a daily necessity. It’s not always intentional, but it’s real, and I’ve seen it in myself even.

That’s why the lyric, “I can’t make it on my own, even at my best,” hits so hard.

Because it cuts through that illusion.

We like to think that our “best” versions of ourselves are enough. That if we’re disciplined, successful, emotionally steady, and making good decisions, then we’re doing just fine. But the truth is, even at our strongest, most put together moments, we are still completely dependent. Not just a little bit but entirely.

And that dependence doesn’t disappear just because life is going well. In fact, that’s where it becomes the most dangerous.

When things are falling apart, it’s obvious we need Jesus. It’s almost instinctual that we reach, we pray, we lean in because we know we don’t have control. But when everything seems to be working? When the job is solid, relationships are good, and life feels manageable? That’s when the lie creeps in of “I’ve got this.”

And maybe outwardly, it even looks true. But spiritually, nothing has changed.

We all still need grace. We still need guidance. We still need saving. Because no amount of stability, success, or material comfort can touch the deeper reality of who we are and what we ultimately need. You can build a life that looks complete on the outside and still be completely disconnected from the One who sustains it.

That’s the tension this song exposes so well, even if it’s not explicitly stated.

It reminds me that Jesus isn’t just for the hard seasons. He’s for every moment. Not just when I’m desperate, but when I’m confident. Not just when I’m broken, but when I feel whole. Because the truth is, what I call “my best” is still not self-sufficient. It never was.

And that’s not meant to discourage us, it’s meant to redirect. Because we’re not left to figure it out alone.

We have Jesus. Present, constant, and unchanging. Not waiting for us to fail so we come back, but walking with us even when we forget to acknowledge Him. That kind of faithfulness changes how we should view everything. It should shift our perspective from independence to intentional reliance.

The real tragedy isn’t just that people walk away from faith. It’s that some slowly convince themselves they don’t need it anymore because life feels full.

But fullness without Christ is temporary.

Everything we build, earn, or accumulate stays here. It doesn’t follow us beyond this life. And when all of that fades, what remains is what always mattered most all along. Our relationship with Christ.

So if there’s anything to take from this, it’s this: don’t let comfort dull your awareness of your need for Jesus. Don’t let success convince you you’ve outgrown dependence. Take a moment to actually reflect, not on what you have, but on what sustains you.

Because whether it feels obvious or not, the need is still there. And it’s still the most important thing you could ever recognize.

Carry It Into the Week

There is an invitation in this passage to rethink how we see both death and life.

First, we can learn to speak about death honestly. Not with fear, but with clarity. The Christian story does not avoid death. It confronts it with redemption and resurrection.

Second, we can care for our bodies without worshiping them. They matter because God made them and will redeem them. That shapes how we rest, how we endure, and how we honor the physical realities of others.

Third, we can anchor hope beyond what we can see. Just like a seed gives no hint of its final form, our current experience does not limit what God is preparing.

Hope is rooted in God’s promises, not our imaginations. Even when life feels like decline or loss, God is still at work bringing something to life.

Week in Reflection

This week has felt like a steady exhale after the rush of the past one. After days filled with travel, loud rooms, tight schedules, and constant movement, returning to something familiar has been grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed. There’s a quiet kind of reset that comes with routine. The small, ordinary rhythms that don’t demand much from you but give a lot back in return. It’s been a chance to slow down, to reflect, and to actually process everything that just happened instead of immediately jumping into the next thing.

But even in the calm, something new has begun to take shape.

Outside of the much needed rest, another door has opened. This time within my church. For over a year now, I’ve had the privilege of serving as a team lead for our Welcome team. That role has already stretched me in ways I didn’t expect, teaching me how to be present, how to read people, and how to create an environment where someone can feel seen within moments of walking through the door.

Now, I’ve been invited into something deeper: the Get Connected team.

This role carries a different kind of anxieties. While the Welcome team often meets people face-to-face in a shared space, the Get Connected team steps into a more intentional, personal form of outreach. We become the first voice someone hears after they’ve made the decision, sometimes a small one, sometimes a significant one, to reach out. Whether they’re looking for more information, seeking community, or just curious about what Connection is about, that initial interaction matters more than we probably realize in the moment.

And if I’m being honest, that’s where the nerves come in.

There’s a real responsibility in being that first point of contact. One conversation, one message, one tone. It can shape how someone perceives not just the church, but their willingness to take a next step at all. That’s not something I take lightly. It’s easy to feel the pressure to “get it right,” to say the perfect thing, to represent everything well.

But the more I sit with that, the more I’m reminded that it was never meant to rest on my shoulders alone.

So before stepping fully into this next chapter, my prayer has been consistent: that it wouldn’t be me at the center of these interactions, but the Holy Spirit working through me. That my words wouldn’t just be well-meaning, but timely. That my responses wouldn’t just be helpful, but meaningful. That people wouldn’t just feel contacted, but genuinely cared for.

Because at the end of the day, connection isn’t about perfect execution, it’s about authenticity, presence, and a willingness to meet people where they are.

I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity and, if I’m honest, a little humbled by the trust that’s been placed in me. To be seen as someone who can help shape those first moments for others is something I don’t want to take for granted. It’s both an honor and a responsibility, and one I’m stepping into with equal parts anticipation and dependence on God.

If this past season has taught me anything, it’s that the doors worth walking through are often the ones that come with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. And if this is where I’ve been led next, then I trust there’s purpose in it.

Now it’s just a matter of stepping in and seeing what God does with it.

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

Built or Broken: The Resurrection as Our Foundation

In 1 Corinthians 15:12–34, Paul confronts a dangerous idea with eternal consequences: if the resurrection is not real, neither is our hope. But if it is, everything changes.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, April 19, 2026.

It began with something almost disarming.

Before opening the text, Jonathan took a moment to share his fascination with construction. Massive buildings. Towering structures. The kind of projects that demand precision, patience, and a foundation that can bear the weight over time. There was humor in it too, a childlike joy in cranes and trucks and the process of building something from nothing.

But then came the truth.

Because every structure, no matter how impressive, carries an unavoidable ending. If the foundation fails, the entire thing collapses.

That is where the analogy sharpened. A Jenga tower, piece by piece, can stand tall. But remove the wrong block, and everything falls in an instant. What once seemed stable reveals itself to be fragile.

Paul is making the same argument in 1 Corinthians 15:12–34. Only the stakes are infinitely higher.

Remove the resurrection, and the entire Christian faith collapses.

The World Behind the Text

The church in Corinth was not lacking in passion. They were active, gifted, and engaged. But they were also confused, shaped by a culture that struggled to believe in bodily resurrection.

In the Greco-Roman world, many believed the physical body was a limitation, something to escape rather than something to be restored. Spiritual existence was desirable. Physical resurrection was not.

So when some in Corinth began to question whether believers would be raised from the dead, it may have seemed like a minor theological adjustment.

Paul treats it as a catastrophic error.

Because this is not a side issue. It is the issue.

In 1 Corinthians 15:12, Paul writes that some are saying there is no resurrection of the dead. What follows is not gentle correction but a logical dismantling. He pulls on that one loose block and shows the Corinthians exactly what falls when it is removed.

Walking the Passage

Paul’s argument is relentless.

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised (1 Corinthians 15:13). And if Christ has not been raised, then preaching and faith are in vain (1 Corinthians 15:14).

It gets worse.

If Christ has not been raised, the apostles are misrepresenting God (1 Corinthians 15:15). Faith is futile. Sin still holds its power. The dead are lost forever (1 Corinthians 15:17–18). And perhaps most strikingly, Christians are to be pitied above all people (1 Corinthians 15:19).

Paul is not softening the implications. He is pressing them into the church. No resurrection means no Gospel.

At the center of this passage is one of the most sobering statements in Scripture: if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins (1 Corinthians 15:17).

That word futile commands attention. It means empty, ineffective, powerless. A faith that cannot save. A belief system that cannot deliver what it promises. Without the resurrection, sin is not defeated. Death is not conquered. Hope is not secured.

But Paul does not leave the church there. He pivots with one of the most important declarations in the New Testament.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep (1 Corinthians 15:20).

This is not wishful thinking. It is not metaphor. It is a claim rooted in history and witnessed reality. And Paul reaches back into imagery the Corinthians would understand.

Firstfruits.

In the agricultural world, the firstfruits were not the full harvest. They were the beginning of it. The first portion that guaranteed more was coming. They were a sign, not just of what HAD happened, but of what WOULD happen.

Christ’s resurrection is not an isolated event. It is the beginning of something that includes all who belong to him.

Paul then traces the story back even further. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead (1 Corinthians 15:21).

In Adam, all die.

In Christ, all shall be made alive (1 Corinthians 15:22).

This is the language of representation. Adam stands as the head of humanity in sin. Christ stands as the head of a new humanity in life.

Where Adam failed, Christ succeeds. Where Adam brought death, Christ brings life.

This is why the resurrection matters so deeply. It is not just proof that Jesus rose. It is proof that his work was sufficient. That sin was truly dealt with. That death no longer has the final word.

Paul continues by pointing to the ultimate end. Christ reigns until every enemy is defeated, and the last enemy to be destroyed is death (1 Corinthians 15:25–26).

The resurrection is not just about the past. It is about the future. It is about where history is headed.

Then Paul brings the argument into everyday life.

Why would anyone endure suffering, danger, or even death for something that is not true (1 Corinthians 15:30–31)?

If the dead are not raised, then the most logical conclusion is simple: let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die (1 Corinthians 15:32).

In other words, if there is no resurrection, then nothing ultimately matters.

But Paul refuses that conclusion. Instead, he warns the church not to be deceived and calls them back to sober thinking and righteous living (1 Corinthians 15:33–34).

Belief shapes behavior.

And what we believe about the resurrection will shape everything.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some have argued that Paul is speaking symbolically. That resurrection is not about physical bodies but about spiritual renewal or the continuation of Jesus’ influence.

There is a surface-level appeal to this. It aligns with cultural instincts that are more comfortable with metaphor than miracle. But it does not hold up under the gravity of the text.

Paul’s entire argument collapses if the resurrection is not real AND physical. His logic depends on a historical event. If Christ has not actually been raised, then everything he says about faith being futile still stands.

A symbolic resurrection cannot defeat real death. A metaphor cannot conquer the grave.

Paul is not offering inspiration. He is making a claim about reality.

The Turn

The Jenga tower is helpful because it exposes how we often think about faith. We treat doctrines like interchangeable pieces. Remove one, adjust another, and the structure still stands.

Paul disagrees.

The resurrection is not one piece among many. It is the foundation beneath all of them. Remove it, and nothing remains. But if it is true, then everything holds.

This is where the passage becomes deeply personal.

Because the resurrection is not just a theological idea to agree with. It is a reality to build your life upon.

If Christ is raised, then your sin is not the end of your story.

If Christ is raised, then death is not the final word over your life or the lives of those you love.

If Christ is raised, then your suffering is not meaningless.

If Christ is raised, then what you do with your life matters eternally.

The difference between despair and hope is not found in changing circumstances. It is found in whether the resurrection is true.

And Paul insists that it is.

Song of the Week: Testimony - Terrian

Terrian’s song “Testimony” lands with a kind of quiet force. Less about spectacle and more about recognition. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t just ask to be heard; it asks to be reflected in. For me, that reflection feels deeply personal, but its reach extends far beyond any one story. Its message is broad enough to meet listeners wherever they are in their walk of faith.

At its core, “Testimony” operates as a reminder of something easy to forget in the middle of ordinary life or difficult seasons: when God feels distant, the evidence of His work is often closest at hand. Not in grand displays, but in the steady transformation of a life over time. The song’s structure mirrors this idea. One moment it points inward toward personal change and growth, and the next it lifts the focus outward, toward the character of God and the scope of His work. In doing so, it bridges the gap between biblical history and present-day experience, suggesting that the miraculous is not confined to scripture alone.

That tension between what has been written and what is still unfolding sits at the heart of the song. Scripture is filled with accounts of God moving in powerful ways, but “Testimony” gently insists that those stories didn’t end there. They continue, quietly, in the lives of believers. In that sense, the song gives a different perspective of identity: not just as observers of faith, but as participants in it.

There’s also an honesty woven into the message. Faith, as the song acknowledges, is not insulated from hardship. Suffering, doubt, and opposition remain part of the experience. Yet even here, the narrative doesn’t stall. Instead, it echoes a familiar biblical theme that what is meant for harm can be repurposed for good. It’s a perspective that doesn’t erase pain but places it within a larger story. “Oh, the enemy did what he could, but the Lord he has used it for good.”

Another lyric also stands out: the idea that hope doesn’t run dry when it is rooted in God, “I never run out of hope when I run to the God of miracles.” It’s a simple line, but it carries significance, especially in moments when hope feels most fragile. It reinforces the song’s central claim that a life shaped by faith becomes, in itself, evidence. Not perfect, not without struggle, but undeniably changed.

Whether someone is at the beginning of their faith journey or years into it, “Testimony” offers a steady reminder that the story isn’t finished. And more importantly, it’s not just something to read about but it’s something being lived.

Carry It Into the Week

There is a quiet temptation to treat the resurrection as something reserved for Easter. Something to celebrate once a year and then move past.

Paul will not allow that.

The resurrection is not an event to visit. It is a foundation to live on. It shapes how you view your sin. Not as something you must carry alone, but as something already dealt with through Christ’s finished work.

It shapes how you endure suffering. Not as pointless pain, but as something held within a larger story that ends in restoration.

It shapes how you live. With purpose, urgency, and hope.

And it shapes how you face death. Not with denial, but with confidence that it has been defeated.

So the question becomes simple, even if it is not easy.

What are you building your life on?

Because every foundation will eventually be tested.

And only one will stand.

Week in Reflection

Six months ago, I hesitated before publishing the first of these faith-centered reflections as I was unsure of the reception, uncertain of the consistency, but compelled to begin. Now, six months later, that initial step has grown into something steady and meaningful. Whether these words have reached a wide audience or quietly passed by remains unseen, but their impact on my own walk with God is undeniable. Each post has served as both reflection and accountability, deepening my understanding of my own faith week by week. And as that milestone settles in, there’s a growing anticipation for what God might continue to build from here.

This past week unfolded at a relentless pace, marking one of the busiest stretches in recent memory. Six photography contracts in seven days, paired with more than 18 hours on the road, turned a side pursuit into something that felt closer to a calling. The opportunities in front of me, doors that once seemed firmly closed, have opened in ways I can’t fully explain. The work behind the lens continues to feel like a gift, one I’m still learning how to steward well. My hope remains simple: that every image captured, every story told, ultimately points back to God. There’s also a growing desire to step further into spaces centered around Christian artists, to document moments that align more deeply with both my craft and my faith.

Yet, even in a week defined by professional momentum, the most meaningful moments came off the clock. An eight-hour round trip, shared meals, and time in a hotel offered something far more significant than another completed assignment and it created space for connection with my older brother in a way we rarely get to experience. It was, in many ways, the most intentional one-on-one time we’ve ever had.

Faith, for him, remains unsettled territory. We share the same foundation, the same upbringing, but his path has taken a different direction. From where I stand, it feels like he knows the truth of who Jesus is, yet continues to wrestle with fully stepping into that reality. That tension is difficult to witness. There’s a deep desire in me to see him come to the same clarity and conviction I’ve found but I’m learning that faith journeys don’t unfold on identical timelines.

What I can do is show grace, remain present, and trust that God is working in ways I cannot see. If nothing else, I hope the time we spent together planted something small but lasting. A seed that, in time, might grow and bloom. For now, that’s enough to hold onto: the belief that God meets each of us where we are, and that no moment of connection is ever wasted.

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 Jake Peterson, Connection Church Sioux Falls, April 12, 2026.

Singing in the Cave: Learning to Trust God in the Dark

It was a brief detour from 1 Corinthians, but it felt anything but incidental. A guest pastor, Jake Peterson, stepped in from River City Church in Fargo and opened Psalm 57, calling it “A Song from the Cave.” Before the text even began, one line stood out: we are all on Team Jesus.

In a moment when denominational lines and stylistic differences often feel louder than our shared confession, that reminder cut through the noise. Churches across cities, states, and traditions may look different, but at the center should stand the same person. Jesus Christ. The mission is not competitive. It’s meant to be unified.

That unity matters because Psalm 57 is not written from a platform of comfort. It is written from confinement. And if the church is going to speak meaningfully into the lives of people walking through darkness, it must first remember that it is standing on the same ground, under the same Lord, and carrying the same hope.

The World Behind the Text

Psalm 57 is traditionally connected to David’s flight from Saul, likely during the events described in 1 Samuel 22:1–5. David is not in a palace. He is not leading armies. He is hiding in a cave.

That historical context matters. This is not abstract theology. This is lived. David is a fugitive, pursued unjustly, cut off from stability, and surrounded by uncertainty. The cave is not just a setting. It is a symbol of fear, limitation, and waiting.

Yet the psalm does not read like despair alone. It carries a surprising tone of confidence. That tension is the key to understanding it. David is not denying his circumstances. He is redefining them in light of who God is.

This is where interpretation must be careful. Psalm 57 is not promising immediate escape from hardship. It is not suggesting that faith eliminates difficulty. Instead, it demonstrates that trust in God can coexist with distress.

Walking the Passage

David opens with a plea that is both urgent and grounded. “Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by,” (Psalm 57:1).

There is no attempt to appear strong. No effort to mask need. The request is direct for God to be merciful. The reasoning is relational when David professes that in God his soul takes refuge. The hope is anchored knowing that the storms will pass.

That last phrase is critical. David does not say “if” the storms pass. He says till they pass. His confidence is not in the absence of storms but in their temporary nature under God’s sovereignty.

As the psalm continues, David names his current reality, “My soul is in the midst of lions; I lie down amid fiery beasts, the children of man, whose teeth are spears and arrows, whose tongues are sharp swords.” (Psalm 57:4)

This is not poetic exaggeration detached from reality. It is an honest description of danger. The people pursuing him are violent and relentless. The cave is not just isolating. It is protective.

Yet in the middle of that description comes a shift, “Be exalted, O God, above the heavens. Let your glory be over all the earth.” (Psalm 57:5)

This is the turning point. David lifts his eyes. Not because his situation has changed, but because his perspective has.

Later, the psalm crescendos into praise, “My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast. I will sing and make melody.” (Psalm 57:7)

This is where the psalm confronts modern instincts. Praise is often treated as a response to deliverance. David treats it as a discipline within distress. He does not wait for the cave to open. He sings inside it.

This same pattern appears in Acts 16:25, where Paul and Silas, imprisoned and beaten, are found praying and singing hymns to God in the middle of the night. The setting is different but the principle is the same. Worship is not postponed until circumstances improve.

A Fair Counter-Reading

It is important to acknowledge that not every reader experiences Psalm 57 this way. Some may argue that emphasizing praise in suffering risks minimizing real pain or creating pressure to feel spiritually strong when one feels anything but.

That concern deserves weight. Scripture itself gives voice to lament without immediate resolution. Psalms like Psalm 13 or Psalm 88 dwell longer in unresolved tension. The Bible does not demand emotional performance.

However, Psalm 57 does not erase pain. It includes it. David names fear, danger, and vulnerability. The call to praise is not a denial of those realities but a response within them. In other words, this is not about pretending everything is fine. It is about choosing where to anchor when everything is not.

The Turn

The turning point of the message was not just David’s song, but the posture that makes that song possible. Dependence on God.

Jesus echoes this in Matthew 18:3, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Children are marked by need. They do not operate under the illusion of self-sufficiency. They ask. They rely on. They trust.

To come to God needy and humble is not a weakness. It is a requirement of the kingdom.

This changes how we approach the cave. The instinct is often to endure quietly or to fix the situation independently. But Psalm 57 and Matthew 18:3 point in a different direction. They call for movement toward God, not away from Him.

This is where John 1:9–14 enters the conversation. The passage describes Jesus as the true light that gives light to everyone. The light is not distant. It is present. The challenge is not locating it but turning toward it.

And here is the tension many experience. Darkness can become familiar. Even when it is painful, it is predictable. Stepping toward the light requires trust, vulnerability, and change. But the Gospel insists that we are not moving toward an abstract idea. We are moving toward a person. Jesus is not waiting at the end of the cave. He is present with us within it.

Song of the Week: idk - Allison Eide

Emerging artist Allison Eide may feel like a new name to some listeners, but her presence in the Christian music space is quickly gaining traction. After appearing on tour alongside another song of the week alum, Seph Schlueter, Eide has stepped into her own spotlight with a headlining run, introducing audiences to a voice that blends vulnerability with conviction. If the tour is heading to a town near you I would recommend catching a show.

Her song that we are focusing on, “idk,” centers on a theme that resonates universally: Uncertainty. From questions about the future to relationships, identity, and purpose, the song captures the tension of living without clear answers. Rather than offering easy resolutions, Eide leans into that ambiguity, framing it through a lens of faith.

The track’s most compelling moments arrive in its chorus and bridge, where uncertainty meets assurance. Lyrics point to a steady presence amid confusion, emphasizing trust over control. One line underscores this perspective by reminding listeners that even in chaos, there is a larger plan unfolding beyond immediate understanding.

A notable biblical reference draws from the account in Gospel of Matthew 8:28–34, where demons recognize the authority and ultimate victory of Jesus. By invoking this moment, the song reinforces its central message that even forces opposed to God acknowledge the inevitable outcome, providing a striking contrast to human doubt.

“idk” ultimately positions faith not as the absence of questions, but as the response to them. In a culture often driven by certainty and control, Eide’s approach offers a counter-narrative, one that invites listeners to rest in what is known about God rather than what remains unknown about life.

Carry It Into the Week

What does it look like to live Psalm 57 today?

First, it means naming your cave. Not every struggle looks the same. For some, it is anxiety. For others, it is temptation, loneliness, uncertainty, or grief. Ignoring it does not make it disappear.

Second, it means choosing dependence over self-reliance. This is not passive resignation. It is active trust. It is bringing needs to God in prayer, not as a last resort but as a first response.

Third, it means practicing praise before circumstances change. This is where the example of David, Paul, and Silas becomes firm. Singing in the cave may feel unnatural, even forced. But over time, it reshapes the heart.

Fourth, it means remembering that you are not alone. The idea of being on Team Jesus is more than a slogan. It is a theological reality. The church is a community bound not by preference but by the Gospel. That means others are walking through their own caves at the same time.

Finally, it means trusting that the storm will pass. Not necessarily on your timeline. Not necessarily in the way you expect. But under God’s authority, it is never permanent.

Week in Reflection

This week felt like a fight.

For the first time in a while, my schedule slowed down. The nights that had once been filled were suddenly open, and with that extra time came a different kind of challenge. In the quiet, temptation had more room to move, and it didn’t hesitate to take advantage.

In the past, weeks like this would leave me discouraged and stuck there. That feeling hasn’t disappeared entirely, but it no longer defines the outcome. Instead of lingering in it, I’ve learned to reformat the moment. The very presence of that struggle has become, in a way, a signal. It reminds me that I’m not drifting aimlessly, but moving in a direction that matters. Toward Christ.

There is a growing belief that if I weren’t pursuing a deeper walk with the Lord, I might not even recognize these moments for what they are. That perspective has changed how I endure them. What once felt like defeat now carries a measure of purpose.

There is also hope in how the story ends. Whether these battles fade over time as faith deepens, or ultimately cease when Christ returns and makes all things new, the outcome is not uncertain. Evil does not win.

Until then, the work continues. The difficult moments are not exceptions to the journey, they are part of it. And in them, there is a steady reminder that no struggle exists beyond what God can handle, and no season comes without the opportunity to draw closer to Him.

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, April 5, 2026.

Of First Importance: Why the Resurrection Changes Everything

On Easter morning, Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 15 call the church back to what matters most. The resurrection is not one doctrine among many, but the foundation from which everything else flows.

There are moments when timing feels almost too precise to be coincidence. Easter Sunday and 1 Corinthians 15:1–11 is one of those moments. The resurrection account does not simply align with the day, it defines it. Paul opens with a line that is both pastoral and corrective. “Now I would remind you, brothers, of the Gospel I preached to you” (1 Corinthians 15:1 ESV). This is not new information. It is a call to remember.

Paul is not introducing a deeper teaching but returning to the foundation. The issue in Corinth is not ignorance. It is forgetfulness. This same drift happens today. Faith can slowly shift from Christ to self, from grace to performance, from the Gospel to everything built around it.

Paul understands something critical. When the foundation is forgotten, everything built on top begins to fracture.

The World Behind the Text

The church in Corinth was marked by division, pride, and confusion. Across fourteen chapters, Paul addresses issues ranging from leadership factions to misuse of spiritual gifts. Beneath all of it lies a deeper problem.

They had lost sight of what mattered most.

Corinth was a status-driven culture. Honor, recognition, and personal advancement shaped how people lived and related to one another. That mindset had quietly worked its way into the church. Spiritual gifts became tools for self-elevation. Freedom became self-indulgence. Worship became disorderly.

The Corinthians did not reject the Gospel outright. They simply allowed it to move from the center to the margins. The danger for any church is not always abandoning the Gospel. It is assuming it. When the gospel becomes background noise, other things take its place.

Paul responds not by adding more instruction, but by bringing them back to the core.

Walking the Passage

Paul states the heart of the message with unmistakable force:

“For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15:3–4 ESV).

Of first importance.

Paul is establishing priority, not dismissing other truths but ordering them. Everything else in the Christian life flows from this reality. Without the resurrection, there is no church, no salvation, no hope. The Gospel is not the entry point into Christianity. It is the entire path. As Tim Keller states, t is not the ABCs. It is A to Z.

Paul then provides a list of witnesses. Cephas (Who is the apostle Peter). The twelve. More than five hundred at one time. James. All the apostles. And finally, Paul himself (1 Corinthians 15:5–8 ESV).

This is not abstract theology. It is rooted in eyewitness testimony.

Paul is anchoring belief in historical reality. The resurrection is not presented as metaphor or myth, but as an event that occurred in time and space. Faith in the resurrection is not blind. It is trust grounded in testimony.

Paul even notes that many of the five hundred witnesses were still alive (1 Corinthians 15:6 ESV). The implication is clear. This claim is verifiable.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some argue that the resurrection accounts were fabricated or exaggerated over time. Others suggest that the disciples experienced visions or collective psychological phenomena rather than a physical resurrection.

These perspectives attempt to account for the rapid growth of early Christianity without affirming the supernatural. However, there are significant challenges to these views.

First, the consistency of the resurrection claim appears early and widely. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is one of the earliest New Testament writings, and it already contains a structured summary of the Gospel.

Second, the willingness of the apostles to suffer and die for this claim raises difficult questions. People may die for what they believe is true. They do not typically die for what they know to be false.

Third, the inclusion of multiple witnesses and specific names invites scrutiny rather than avoiding it.

While alternative explanations exist, they often struggle to account for the totality of the evidence presented in the text. The resurrection calls for a response. It cannot remain a neutral idea.

The Turn

Paul’s tone shifts as he begins to speak personally.

“Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me” (1 Corinthians 15:8 ESV).

Paul does not present himself as a hero of the faith. He identifies as the least of the apostles, unworthy because he persecuted the church (1 Corinthians 15:9 ESV).

Then comes one of the most defining statements in the passage:

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:10 ESV).

Paul attributes everything to grace. His transformation, his calling, his labor. None of it originates from himself. Grace is not something to achieve. It is something to receive. And once received, it does not diminish over time.

Paul goes further. He acknowledges his labor, but immediately clarifies its source. “Though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me” (1 Corinthians 15:10 ESV).

This is the paradox of the Christian life. Effort is real, but it is empowered by grace. The same grace that saves is the grace that sustains.

Song of the Week: Resurrection Story - Phil Wickham

In the week following Easter, I hope reflection lingers a little longer. For many, the celebration doesn’t end on Sunday morning as it carries into the days after, shaping how the story is remembered and lived out. In that spirit, this week’s selection turns toward resurrection not just as a historical event, but as a personal reality. Resurrection Story by Phil Wickham fits that frame perfectly.

The song opens not in triumph, but in confession. A choice that grounds its message in humility. Wickham draws on biblical imagery, likening himself to the thief on the cross, while also invoking the stories of those healed during Jesus’ ministry. These references aren’t incidental; they build a throughline that points to a singular cause behind each transformation. The change wasn’t earned or manufactured but happened because He arrived. As the lyric puts it, “One word, one touch, one encounter with the King.” The implication is direct: transformation begins with encounter.

While the verses lean inward, the chorus widens the lens. The resurrection is no longer just personal but historical, anchored in the defining moment of the Christian faith. “One cross, three days, then You rolled the stone away,” Wickham sings, tying individual renewal to the events at the center of Easter. The theology is straightforward but weighty. Through Jesus’ death and resurrection, access to grace is no longer distant, but immediate. Redemption, once out of reach, is now offered freely.

What makes the song resonate in a post-Easter context is its ability to hold both truths at once. It acknowledges the historical reality of the resurrection while inviting listeners to see their own lives reflected in it. The empty tomb is not just a past event. It becomes a present invitation.

A week removed from Easter Sunday, as the significance of that day begins to settle, “Resurrection Story” offers a refrain worth returning to, “You alone get the glory, in my resurrection story.” It’s both a conclusion and a response. One that echoes beyond a single Sunday and into the rhythms of everyday faith.

Carry It Into the Week

Easter is not simply a day of remembrance. It is a call to re-center.

The message Paul delivers is not complicated, but it is comprehensive. Christ died for our sins. He was buried and was raised on the third day (1 Corinthians 15:3–4 ESV).

This is the core of the gospel. It addresses sin, death, and hope. Every part of life is shaped by this reality. Identity, purpose, community, mission.

Within the framework of gospel, community, and mission, this passage speaks clearly.

Gospel: The resurrection confirms that the work of Christ is finished and sufficient.
Community: The shared belief in the risen Christ forms a people centered not on status but on grace and love.
Mission: The reality of the resurrection compels proclamation. If Christ is risen, it must be told.

Grace is not something you move beyond. It is something you grow deeper into.

So the invitation is simple. Remember.

Remember that Christ came.
Remember that He lived without sin.
Remember that He died in your place.
Remember that He was buried.
Remember that He was raised on the third day.
Remember that He reigns.

And remember that this grace is given freely, not earned.

Week in Reflection

This week unfolded as a series of moments that intertwined faith, vocation, and personal reflection with each offering its own sense of purpose and perspective.

It began Monday with a notable professional opportunity: receiving press credentials to cover Journey at my local arena. For someone working at the intersection of media and faith, moments like these feel significant. Not just as career milestones, but as reminders of doors opening in unexpected ways. There’s a growing sense that these opportunities are part of a larger trajectory still taking shape and I can’t wait to see what God does with it.

That sense of purpose carried into the workplace throughout the week, where conversations about faith surfaced in practical and sometimes challenging ways. One such moment came in discussing how to handle a financial gift received from my family following the passing of my uncle. The conversation turned to tithing. Specifically, whether that money should be given to the church or used for personal wants.

It became an opportunity to articulate a deeply held conviction: that all resources, whether earned or given, are ultimately entrusted by God. From that perspective, giving back is not just an obligation but an act of stewardship. It was a moment that underscored a broader belief that faith is not meant to be compartmentalized, but lived out openly, even in everyday workplace dialogue.

The week concluded on a more personal and celebratory note. A close friend’s wedding provided a meaningful reminder of faith lived out in community. Having met nearly four years ago through a Bible class at Celebrate Church, our shared spiritual journey has grown into a lasting friendship. Standing alongside him as a groomsman marked not just a milestone in his life, but a reflection of that shared foundation.

The ceremony itself was centered on faith, with the couple openly expressing their commitment to building a marriage grounded in Christ. For those who have witnessed that journey from its early stages, it served as a powerful testament to growth, once separate, not joined.

Still, the week was not without its challenges. Moments of envy, pride, and distraction surfaced as reminders that spiritual growth is rarely linear. Yet even in those struggles, there remains a steady call to trust in something greater: that timing, provision, and direction are ultimately not self-determined, but guided by His larger plan.

Taken together, the week reflects a balance familiar to many. Opportunity and uncertainty, conviction and challenge, celebration and introspection. And within that balance, a continued effort to trust that each step, however small, is part of something more enduring.

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:

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.

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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.