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

Psalm 91 isn’t a promise of a painless life. It’s a promise that those who belong to God never face life's dangers alone. His protection is found not merely in what He does for us, but in His presence with us.

Based on the sermon by Jaz Terzic, Connection Church Sioux Falls, June 28, 2026.

The Fortress and the Wings: Understanding God's Protection

This week, elder Jaz Terzic led us through Psalm 91, a passage many Bible readers instinctively turn to during seasons of uncertainty. Most Bibles title it “My Refuge and My Fortress,” but Jaz summarized its central message with an even simpler phrase. The God of Protection.

Psalm 91 overflows with images describing who God is for His people. He’s a fortress that cannot be shaken, a refuge that cannot be overcome, and a shield against every enemy. Yet in the same psalm, God is also compared to a mother bird sheltering her young beneath her wings.

At first glance those images seem almost contradictory.

How can the same God be portrayed as both an immovable fortress and a gentle bird?

The answer is found in the person of Jesus Christ.

The God who possesses all authority over heaven and earth willingly humbled Himself by taking on flesh. Philippians tells us that although Christ was in the form of God, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death on a cross (Philippians 2:6-8). The strength of God is displayed in His victory over sin and death, while His gentleness is displayed in willingly absorbing the judgment we rightfully deserved.

Psalm 91 points us toward both realities.

God protects with overwhelming power, yet He also protects with overwhelming compassion.

The World Behind the Text

Psalm 91 never promises that believers will avoid hardship.

That’s one of the most important observations Jaz made throughout the sermon.

Many people approach this psalm as though it guarantees physical safety from every illness, disaster, or tragedy. Yet Scripture consistently teaches that faithful believers still experience suffering. Even Jesus Himself endured rejection, persecution, betrayal, torture, and death.

Instead, Psalm 91 shifts our perspective.

Rather than minimizing our fears, it magnifies the One who stands above them.

The psalmist writes,

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:1, ESV)

The key word is “dwells.”

Protection isn’t portrayed as merely receiving blessings from God but living in relationship with Him.

Throughout the psalm, danger is acknowledged repeatedly. Pestilence, arrows, terror, destruction, disease, lions, serpents, and enemies all appear throughout its verses. Scripture never pretends those threats are imaginary.

Instead, God’s presence becomes greater than every threat.

The refuge is not found in the absence of danger.

The refuge is God Himself.

Walking the Passage

One distinction Jaz shared completely changed the way I think about Psalm 91.

The psalm doesn’t belittle our fears. It changes our response because of the size of our Helper.

Fear itself isn’t the enemy.

Every person experiences fear because we recognize our limitations. We fear disease because we can’t control it. We fear loss because we can’t prevent it. We fear death because it reminds us how fragile we are.

The Bible repeatedly tells God’s people, “Fear not,” because our circumstances have changed in light of who God is.

Yet another apparent paradox enters the conversation.

If one of the Bible’s most repeated commands is “Do not fear,” then how do we reconcile that with Proverbs 9:10?

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.”

Should we fear or shouldn’t we?

Jesus answers that question directly.

Jaz pointed us to Luke 12:4-7, where Jesus says,

“I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that have nothing more that they can do. But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him!” (Luke 12:4-5, ESV)

Jesus isn’t contradicting the command to avoid fear.

He’s redirecting it.

Every human being fears something. Some fear failure. Others fear rejection. Others fear financial insecurity, illness, loneliness, or death.

Jesus teaches that every lesser fear should be overwhelmed by a greater one. The reverent awe before the Holy God.

Biblical fear of the Lord isn’t terror that causes us to run away.

It’s reverence that causes us to run toward Him.

When God becomes the greatest object of our reverence, every other fear begins shrinking into its proper place.

That’s exactly what Psalm 91 teaches.

God does not remove reality.

He transforms perspective.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Psalm 91 has sometimes been interpreted as a guarantee that faithful believers will always experience physical protection if they trust God enough.

While understandable, that interpretation struggles to account for the rest of Scripture.

Many faithful servants of God suffered persecution, imprisonment, disease, and even martyrdom. The apostles themselves faced extraordinary hardships, and Jesus warned His followers that they would experience tribulation in this world (John 16:33).

Even more significantly, Satan quoted Psalm 91 while tempting Jesus in the wilderness, encouraging Him to throw Himself from the temple because God had promised His angels would protect Him (Matthew 4:5-6). Jesus refused to misuse God’s promises, responding that we must not put the Lord to the test (Matthew 4:7).

This reminds us that Psalm 91 isn’t permission for reckless living or a guarantee of earthly comfort. Instead, it assures believers that no suffering, trial, or even death can separate God’s people from His sovereign care. His protection is ultimately fulfilled in His eternal purposes, not necessarily in temporary comfort.

The Turn

Another observation Jaz highlighted was something I had never noticed before.

Throughout Psalm 91, the word “you” appears in the singular.

These promises are deeply personal.

They’re directed toward individual believers who personally know, trust, and fear the Lord.

That doesn’t diminish the importance of the church community. Instead, it reminds us that saving faith can’t be inherited.

No one enters God’s protection because of their parents’ faith, their spouse’s faith, or even their church attendance.

Relationship with God is personal.

Verse 14 says,

“Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name.” (Psalm 91:14, ESV)

Notice how relational every phrase is.

Holds fast.

Loves.

Knows.

God isn’t describing a transaction.

He’s describing a relationship. That relationship was ultimately secured through Jesus Christ.

On the cross, Jesus experienced abandonment so that everyone who trusts Him would never be abandoned again. He bore God’s judgment so that those who belong to Him would forever dwell beneath His protective care.

The fortress and the wings meet perfectly at Calvary.

Power and mercy become one.

Carry It Into the Week

The greatest encouragement I took away from this sermon was that God’s protection isn’t measured by whether life becomes easy.

It’s measured by His unchanging presence.

When anxiety rises, He remains our refuge.

When illness comes, He remains our refuge.

When uncertainty fills tomorrow, He remains our refuge.

Even when death eventually comes for everyone, Christ has already conquered the grave.

Paul reminds us,

“If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31, ESV)

The fears of this world are real.

Psalm 91 never denies that.

Instead, it introduces us to Someone infinitely greater.

The fear of the Lord eclipses every lesser fear because our Protector isn’t simply stronger than our enemies.

He is the Creator of every power, every nation, every circumstance, and every breath we take.

Those who belong to Christ don’t walk through life unprotected.

They walk through life with the God who promises,

“I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him.” (Psalm 91:15, ESV)

That may not remove every storm.

But it reminds us that we never face one alone.

Song of the Week: I’d Do It Again - Andrew Ripp

To me, Andrew Ripp’s “I’d Do It Again” is the perfect reminder and depiction of God’s love for us. There really isn’t much to unpack because the message is beautifully straightforward. The song doesn’t hide behind complicated metaphors or vague imagery. It boldly declares the Gospel truth that God’s love for us is so great that everything Jesus endured was worth it in His eyes. Not because the cross was easy, but because of what it accomplished. Our redemption was worth every moment of suffering.

What makes the song especially powerful is how it paints the picture of Jesus looking back on every agonizing detail of His journey to the cross. He remembers the betrayal from one of His closest friends. He remembers being abandoned by those who promised to stand beside Him. He remembers the mocking, the false accusations, the crown of thorns pressed into His head, the nails driven through His hands and feet, the unbearable weight of the cross, and the darkness of Calvary. None of those memories are softened or erased. They are vivid, painful, and real.

Yet after remembering every wound, every drop of blood, and every ounce of suffering, His response isn’t regret. It’s not hesitation. It’s simply, “I’d do it again.”

That thought is almost impossible for us to comprehend. Most of us try to avoid pain whenever possible. If we know something will hurt us, we naturally look for another path. But Jesus willingly walked toward the cross knowing exactly what awaited Him. He wasn’t surprised by the suffering. He chose it. As John 15:13 reminds us, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” Jesus demonstrated the greatest love imaginable by laying down His life for people who could never earn or deserve it.

The beauty of this song is that it personalizes that sacrifice. It’s easy to think of Jesus dying for humanity as a whole, but Scripture makes it personal. Romans 5:8 says, “but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Before we cleaned up our lives, before we ever sought Him, before we had anything to offer, Christ willingly gave Himself for us.

When I listen to this song, I can’t help but be humbled. It’s difficult to wrap my mind around the idea that someone could love another person enough to willingly endure crucifixion even once, let alone say they would do it again if that’s what it took to rescue them. Yet that’s exactly the heart of God. His love isn’t based on our performance or our worthiness. It flows from His unchanging character. The cross wasn’t a reluctant obligation. It was the greatest display of love the world has ever, and will ever see.

That’s why “I’d Do It Again” hits so deeply for me. It serves as a reminder that every time I question whether God loves me, I don’t have to wonder. The answer has already been written in blood on the cross. Jesus knew the cost, accepted the suffering, endured the cross, and if rescuing us required it all over again, His answer would still be yes. That kind of love is beyond human understanding, and that’s exactly what makes it so amazing.

Week in Reflection

This week marked the annual fireworks side job that I’ve been doing with a friend from church for the past couple of years through Fire Bros. It’s become one of those traditions that I genuinely look forward to every summer. While it’s nice to step away from my normal 9-to-5 for a week, calling it a “break” would definitely be misleading. If anything, the workload just changes. Instead of sitting at a desk, the days are spent outside in the summer heat, helping customers, stocking product, keeping displays organized, and working long hours from open to close. By the end of each day, you’re physically exhausted, but it’s the kind of tired that comes from knowing you put in an honest day’s work.

One of the things I appreciate most about this opportunity is that it’s built on friendship and trust. My friend has enough confidence in me to bring me back every year and give me responsibilities that help keep everything running smoothly. That means a lot because trust isn’t something that should ever be taken for granted. It’s also been a fun way to spend time with someone from church outside of our usual Sunday interactions. We get to laugh, solve problems together, and serve hundreds of customers who are all excited to celebrate Independence Day with their families. Seeing kids light up while picking out fountains or hearing parents reminisce about fireworks they grew up with reminds me that, in a small way, we’re helping people create memories together.

Of course, I certainly won’t complain about the extra income either. Between photography, ministry opportunities, and the normal expenses of everyday life, it’s always a blessing to have a little additional financial breathing room. Even so, by the time July 4 finally arrives, I’m usually more than ready for a couple of days where I don’t have to stand in the sun for ten hours straight. The long days are worth it, but I’ll definitely be looking forward to slowing down, catching my breath, and enjoying some much needed rest once the holiday is over.

While fireworks dominated most of my week, I also received some very disappointing news that caught me completely off guard. Since February, I had been incredibly excited about covering the Forrest Frank concert in my area after receiving media approval months in advance. Everything seemed to be in place. The approvals had come through, plans had been made, and I had even signed the required contract. Then, because of a change in the tour’s media policy, those approvals were unexpectedly rescinded.

My first reaction, if I’m being honest, was frustration. I was angry, disappointed, and honestly a little shocked that something that had seemed so settled could simply disappear. After months of anticipation, it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. It’s a difficult reminder that in the concert photography world, nothing is truly guaranteed until you’re actually standing inside the venue with your camera in hand. No matter how official something feels, circumstances can change beyond your control.

As the initial disappointment began to wear off, though, I started seeing the situation through a different lens (no pun intended). One thing I’ve been learning over the past few years in my walk with Christ is that dwelling on what I can’t control rarely accomplishes anything. Instead, I’ve tried to look for the ways God may be working even through a closed door.

Because I no longer have to make the trip, I’m able to cancel the PTO I had scheduled from work and save it for another opportunity later this year. That’s a gift in itself. I also won’t be spending money on gas, hotel accommodations, meals, and all the travel expenses that come with covering an out of town concert. While I would’ve gladly spent that money for an artist I was excited to photograph, keeping those resources available may end up opening the door for something else entirely.

Who knows? Maybe another concert, another assignment, or another opportunity that I can’t even see yet will come along because of this change in plans. I’ve experienced enough unexpected blessings over the last couple of years to know that God often closes one door while quietly preparing another that I never would have considered on my own.

It’s easy to praise God when everything goes according to plan. It’s much harder when plans suddenly change without warning. Yet this week reminded me that God’s goodness isn’t dependent on whether my schedule works out the way I had hoped. He’s still faithful when opportunities disappear. He’s still providing when disappointments come. He’s still worthy of praise when the answer is “no” instead of “yes.”

So while I won’t be photographing Forrest Frank this time around, I’m choosing to trust that God knows something I don’t. Maybe this unexpected change is protecting me from something, preparing me for something better, or simply teaching me once again to hold my plans loosely. Whatever the reason, I can rest in knowing that His plans are always better than mine, even when I don’t understand them in the moment. Sometimes the bright side isn’t immediately obvious, but if we’re willing to look long enough, God’s fingerprints have a way of showing up in even the most disappointing circumstances.

And always 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

Psalm 50 reminds us that God isn’t impressed by outward religious performance divorced from genuine faith. Before judgment comes an invitation to repent, to abandon transactional religion, and to rediscover the joy of walking with the God who desires our hearts.

Based on the sermon by Traye LaMere, Connection Church Sioux Falls, June 21, 2026.

The Difference Between Knowing God and Knowing About God

Few things are more sobering than the realization that it’s possible to look religious while being spiritually distant from God. We can attend church, volunteer, memorize Scripture, give generously, and still miss the very relationship those practices were meant to cultivate.

This week at Connection Church, Deacon Traye LeMere guided us through Psalm 50, a psalm often titled “God Himself Is Judge.” Rather than focusing primarily on the fascinating literary placement of Psalm 50 among the Psalms of Asaph, the sermon centered on the heart of God’s warning to His people. It’s a message that remains just as relevant today as when Asaph first penned these words.

Psalm 50 presents God as the righteous Judge. Yet what unfolds isn’t merely a courtroom drama. It’s a gracious warning before the verdict is finalized. God exposes empty religion not because He delights in condemnation, but because He desires repentance.

The World Behind the Text

Psalm 50 opens with a majestic picture of God’s authority.

“The Mighty One, God the Lord, speaks and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting.” (Psalm 50:1, ESV)

God gathers His covenant people before Him. At first glance it appears they’re being commended for faithfully bringing sacrifices. But God quickly reveals that sacrifices were never the issue.

“I will not accept a bull from your house or goats from your folds.” (Psalm 50:9, ESV)

The Lord reminds Israel that every animal already belongs to Him. He has no need for their offerings because He owns all creation.

The problem was never the sacrifices themselves. The problem was that the people believed their religious activity somehow obligated God while their hearts remained far from Him.

The sacrifices had become transactional instead of relational.

Walking the Passage

One of the most challenging moments of the sermon came when Traye contrasted two groups of people using Jesus’ own words.

The first group comes from Matthew 7:21-23. These are people who appear incredibly faithful. They prophesy, perform miracles, cast out demons, and point to all the impressive things they’ve done for God.

Yet Jesus responds with devastating words.

“And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’” (Matthew 7:23, ESV)

Notice that Jesus doesn’t say He never knew about them. He says He never knew them.

The issue is relationship.

The second group comes from Matthew 25:41-46. These individuals consistently rejected Christ throughout their lives. When judgment arrives, Jesus simply confirms the separation they had already chosen.

Traye illustrated this distinction with a scene from The Godfather. In the film, people approach the powerful Don Corleone only when they need something. They ignore the relationship until life falls apart, then suddenly seek justice and favor.

That picture is uncomfortable because it often mirrors our own hearts.

How often do we seek God only after exhausting every worldly solution?

How often do we pursue success, comfort, relationships, finances, or control first, only turning to Christ when everything else disappoints?

Even as believers, we can subtly drift into treating prayer like customer service instead of communion with our Father.

We want God’s blessings without always desiring God’s presence.

Psalm 50 lovingly exposes that tendency.

God isn’t interested in being our last resort. He desires to be our greatest treasure.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers may wonder whether Psalm 50 teaches that sacrifices and acts of worship are unimportant. That would miss the larger biblical picture.

Throughout the Old Testament, God Himself instituted the sacrificial system. Likewise, throughout the New Testament, believers are repeatedly called to gather, serve, pray, give generously, and obey Christ.

The issue is never faithful obedience.

The issue is believing that external obedience can replace inward devotion.

Jesus echoed this same concern when He quoted Isaiah.

“This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” (Matthew 15:8, ESV)

Biblical faith has always united both right worship and right hearts.

The Turn

Perhaps the most encouraging truth from Psalm 50 is that it’s not the final verdict.

Near the end of the psalm comes an invitation.

“Mark this, then, you who forget God, lest I tear you apart, and there be none to deliver! The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!” (Psalm 50:22-23, ESV)

The warning comes before the judgment.

God calls His people back while there’s still time.

Even more beautiful is what immediately follows with Psalm 51 recording David’s prayer of repentance after his sin with Bathsheba.

That placement is no accident.

Psalm 50 confronts.

Psalm 51 confesses.

God’s warning always leaves room for grace.

The Gospel follows the same pattern.

Our sin is fully exposed, but Christ has already borne the judgment we deserve. Through His death and resurrection, repentance is no longer simply turning away from sin. It’s turning toward the Savior who welcomes sinners with open arms.

The Judge has also become our Redeemer.

Carry It Into the Week

Psalm 50 invites us to examine our own hearts.

Do we pursue Jesus because we love Him, or because we hope He will give us what we want?

Do we trust Him only after every worldly solution has failed?

Are our prayers conversations with our Father, or merely requests when life becomes difficult?

None of us gets this perfectly right.

Every one of us has moments where our relationship with Christ becomes transactional. We drift toward self reliance, then remember God when our plans collapse.

Thankfully, Psalm 50 doesn’t leave us in despair.

It points us toward repentance.

Like David in Psalm 51, we can confess our sin, receive God’s mercy, and begin walking closely with Him once again.

May we never settle for knowing about Jesus while failing to truly know Him.

May we seek His heart before His hand.

May we treasure the relationship made possible through the Gospel above every blessing He gives.

Because in the end, the greatest gift God offers isn’t simply justice, forgiveness, or provision.

It’s Himself.

Song of the Week: Good - Matthew West

Matthew West’s “Good” has some of the most hopeful words that remind me of the truth of God’s love, and I’m here for it. If I’m ever feeling down about not being good enough, or wrestling with the feeling of failure that so often comes from the culture of the world, the end of the chorus speaks truth that completely dismantles that mindset, “I’m not loved because I’m worthy, I’m loved because You’re good.” What a powerful reminder. The world constantly tells us that our value is tied to our performance, our accomplishments, our appearance, or how much we can contribute. If we succeed, we feel valuable. If we fail, we feel worthless. But the Gospel operates on an entirely different foundation.

God’s love for us has never been based on our ability to earn it. If it were, none of us would qualify. Scripture tells us that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. His love is rooted in His character, not our performance. That means our worst mistakes can’t make Him love us less, and our greatest achievements can’t make Him love us more. His mercy isn’t a reward for good behavior. It’s a gift given through grace to those who place their faith in Christ. The cross settled that once and for all.

The second half of the song also points listeners toward one of the most relatable passages in all of Scripture when Paul writes in Romans 7:15-20 about his battle with sin. Paul openly admits that he often does the very things he hates and fails to do the things he knows he should. It’s an honest confession that everyone can identify with. No matter how long we’ve followed Christ, there are still moments when we stumble, fall into temptation, or choose selfishness over obedience. Sin has a way of disrupting our intentions and pulling us away from the life God desires for us.

Yet the beauty of the Gospel is found in those two simple words. But mercy. Paul’s struggle in Romans 7 isn’t the end of the story. Romans 8 immediately follows with the incredible declaration that there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Even when we fail, God’s mercy meets us there. Even when we stumble, His grace is sufficient. The enemy wants us to sit in shame and believe that our failures define us, but God continually reminds us that our identity is found in Christ, not in our inevitable mistakes.

That doesn’t mean sin is excused or ignored. Rather, it means that when we repent and turn back to Him, we’re met with forgiveness instead of rejection. God’s mercy removes the crushing weight of shame and replaces it with the assurance that we’re still His children. We’re still loved. We’re still redeemed. We’re still being transformed by His grace.

That is why this song resonates with me. It points me away from myself and back to the goodness of God. On the days when we feel like we have everything together and on the days when we feel like we’re falling apart, the truth remains the same, that we’re not loved because we’re worthy. We’re loved because He is good. And that truth never changes.

Week in Reflection

This week truly felt like summer had finally arrived. Between spending more time outdoors and gathering with our Bible study for our monthly summer gathering, there was a refreshing change of pace that seemed to invite both rest and reflection. There really are no words that fully capture the beauty of God’s creation when you step away from the distractions of everyday life and simply experience it. Whether it’s taking in the sights and sounds of a hike or sitting in a backyard surrounded by friends, laughter, and conversation, there were countless reminders of God’s handiwork all around.

It’s amazing how often we rush through life without noticing the world God has placed us in. The colors of a sunset, the vastness of the sky, the intricate details of trees and flowers, and even the simple joy of a warm summer evening all point back to a Creator who delights in beauty. We live on a planet filled with wonders that many of us rarely stop to appreciate. Spending time outside this week reminded me that creation itself is an act of worship, constantly declaring God’s glory whether we pay attention to it or not. Sometimes the best way to reconnect with the Lord is simply to slow down long enough to notice what He’s already placed right in front of us.

Another interesting reflection came from an unexpected source this week. A friend and I went to the new movie Disclosure Day, directed by Steven Spielberg. The premise centers around the existence of extraterrestrial life and what would happen if that reality were announced to the world. While the science fiction elements were entertaining, what stuck with me most was a conversation in the film about faith. One character struggles with how the possibility of aliens would fit into their belief in God. Another character responds by pointing out that Genesis is focused on God’s relationship with humanity and life on Earth, not necessarily every corner of the universe. The discussion then raises a fascinating question. Why would God create an unimaginably vast cosmos if Earth was the only place inhabited by intelligent life?

It’s one of those conversations that doesn’t necessarily have a definitive answer, but it’s interesting to think about. The sheer size of the universe certainly inspires wonder and humility. Yet the more I reflected on it, the more I realized that the existence or nonexistence of extraterrestrial life has no impact on the foundation of my faith. My belief rests on who God is, what Christ accomplished through His death and resurrection, and the truth revealed in Scripture. If one day humanity discovers intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, God will still be God. Jesus will still be King. The Gospel will still be true.

In some ways, the discussion reminded me just how small we are in the grand scope of creation and yet how deeply loved we are by the Creator of it all. Whether we are alone in the universe or one part of a much larger story, the reality remains the same that God created all things, sustains all things, and has provided salvation through Christ. That’s a truth that doesn’t change based on scientific discoveries or unanswered questions. While it can be fun to speculate about what might be out there among the stars, my confidence ultimately rests in the One who created the stars themselves.

And always 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

Psalm 42 and 43 give voice to the ache of spiritual depression while refusing to leave us there. These psalms teach us that even in our deepest sorrow, hope is found by preaching God's truth to our hearts and trusting His sovereign hand.

Based on the sermon by Nathan Schaap, Connection Church Sioux Falls, June 14, 2026.

Hope in the Dark: Preaching the Gospel to Your Pain

This week at Connection Church, Elder Nathan Schaap guided us through Psalms 42 and 43. While divided into two chapters in our modern Bibles, many scholars believe these were originally one unified Psalm. The repeated refrain found in both chapters supports that idea.

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God” (Psalm 42:5, ESV).

At first glance, these Psalms can feel surprisingly heavy. The writer is discouraged, overwhelmed, grieving, and spiritually exhausted. Yet woven through every verse is a stubborn hope that refuses to die.

Nathan opened with an illustration from the television series Mad Men. In one memorable scene, advertising executive Don Draper describes nostalgia as something deeper than memory. It’s an ache. A longing for something that once was. A desire to return to a place of comfort, joy, or belonging.

That longing is all over Psalms 42 and 43.

The psalmist remembers worshiping with God’s people. He remembers joy. He remembers nearness to God. Yet his current reality feels painfully different. He’s spiritually thirsty and emotionally exhausted.

“As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God” (Psalm 42:1, ESV).

Many people know exactly what that feels like, whether they will admit it or not.

The World Behind the Text

One reason these psalms resonate is because they refuse to pretend that faith eliminates suffering.

The Bible never teaches that following God means living free from sorrow. In fact, Scripture repeatedly shows faithful men and women walking through seasons of profound grief, doubt, loneliness, and despair.

The psalmist openly admits his tears have become his food day and night (Psalm 42:3). He describes waves and breakers crashing over him (Psalm 42:7). He feels forgotten and oppressed (Psalm 42:9). He longs for God’s presence while wrestling with the reality of his pain.

An Old Testament scholar once used these psalms as the foundation for a book on spiritual depression, describing the strange beauty found within seasons of sorrow. That may sound like a contradiction, but Scripture repeatedly reveals that God often does some of His deepest work in our darkest valleys.

Pain is real.

Depression is real.

Grief is real.

Yet none of those realities have the final word. The psalmist doesn’t deny his suffering. Instead, he brings his suffering before God.

Biblical faith isn’t pretending everything is fine. Biblical faith is bringing everything that’s not fine directly to the Lord.

Walking the Passage

One of the most striking aspects of these psalms is that the writer talks to himself. Not in the sense of losing control, but in the sense of preaching truth to his own heart.

Three times he repeats the same refrain,

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God” (Psalm 42:5, ESV).

Notice what’s happening.

His emotions are speaking loudly. His circumstances are difficult. His sorrow is genuine.

Yet he refuses to let his feelings become the ultimate authority.

Instead, he challenges his despair with truth.

This is one of the great lessons of Psalms 42 and 43. We must allow our minds to speak truth to our emotions rather than allowing our emotions to dictate truth to our minds.

That doesn’t mean ignoring feelings. It means placing them under the authority of God’s promises.

The psalmist is essentially preaching the Gospel to his own pain.

He reminds himself that God is still worthy of praise.

He reminds himself that God is still present.

He reminds himself that God is still sovereign.

Most importantly, he reminds himself that his current suffering is not the end of the story.

For Christians today, that confidence is anchored in Jesus Christ.

We know that God entered human suffering Himself. Jesus was betrayed by a friend. He was falsely accused. He was beaten and mocked. He was crucified on a Roman cross.

He experienced unimaginable suffering.

Yet through His death and resurrection, He accomplished the salvation of His people and defeated sin and death forever.

As Peter writes,

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24, ESV).

The resurrection reminds us that God specializes in bringing life out of places that appear hopeless.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers may worry that emphasizing hope in suffering minimizes the reality of depression or emotional pain.

That concern deserves careful consideration.

Scripture never suggests that depression is solved by simply trying harder, praying more, or pretending to be happy. The psalmist himself spends two entire chapters expressing grief, confusion, and longing.

The biblical answer isn’t denial. The biblical answer is hope.

Hope doesn’t erase suffering overnight. Hope sustains us through suffering by reminding us that God remains faithful even when our emotions tell us otherwise.

For some, this journey may include counseling, medical care, trusted friendships, pastoral guidance, or all of the above. God’s common grace often works through many means.

The message of Psalms 42 and 43 is not that sorrow disappears instantly.

The message is that sorrow never gets the final word.

The Turn

Nathan reminded us that even our sorrow exists under God’s sovereign control.

That truth can be difficult to accept when we’re in the middle of pain, but Scripture consistently affirms it.

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28, ESV).

Notice that Paul doesn’t say all things are good. Many things aren’t.

Divorce is painful. Loss is painful.

Loneliness is painful. Disappointment is painful.

Yet God remains at work through all of it.

I can personally testify to this reality.

The darkest season of my life came during and after my own divorce. I experienced loneliness unlike anything I had known before. At the time, I couldn’t fully see what God was doing.

Looking back now, I can see His hand all over that season.

God used my brokenness to point me toward the local church. He drew me into deeper community. He surrounded me with believers who know me, encourage me, challenge me, and walk beside me.

Most importantly, He deepened my dependence upon Him.

What once felt like abandonment became a pathway to greater intimacy with Christ.

Scripture is filled with similar stories.

Joseph was sold into slavery by his own brothers before being elevated to a position where he would save countless lives (Genesis 50:20).

Jonah ran from God’s calling, was swallowed by a great fish, and ultimately became part of God’s work of bringing Nineveh to repentance (Jonah 3:5).

Most importantly, Jesus himself endured the cross before the glory of the resurrection. What looked like defeat became the greatest victory in human history.

God has always been in the business of redeeming what appears hopeless.

Carry It Into the Week

Psalms 42 and 43 remind us that Christians don’t ignore pain. We bring it before God.

We acknowledge our sorrow.

We confess our struggles.

We lament fully and honestly.

But we don’t stay there.

We preach truth to our own hearts.

We remind ourselves of God’s character.

We remember His faithfulness.

We place our hope in Christ.

When the waves feel overwhelming, remember the refrain of these psalms,

“Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God” (Psalm 43:5, ESV).

Your emotions are real.

Your pain matters.

Your suffering is not invisible to God.

But neither is your future.

In Christ, despair is never the final chapter.

Song of the Week: GOOD DAY - Forrest Frank

Since this series started, I’m actually surprised it’s taken 32 weeks for Forrest Frank to earn the Song of the Week spot. Forrest has played a significant role in my journey of becoming more intentional about filling my mind with music that points me toward Christ. I first stumbled across his music while scrolling through TikTok, and before long, his songs found their way into my daily playlists. Out of all the songs that introduced me to his music, “Good Day” was the one that started it all.

At first glance, the song almost seems too simple. The message is straightforward regarding today being a good day. But the longer you sit with those words, the more you realize how difficult they can be to live out. It’s easy to declare a good day when everything is going according to plan. It’s much harder when life feels uncertain, prayers seem unanswered, relationships are strained, or circumstances are anything but ideal. Yet that’s exactly where the heart of this song shines.

The reason today can be a good day has nothing to do with our circumstances and everything to do with who God is. Forrest points listeners back to a truth that’s both humbling and encouraging. The God who created the universe knows us personally. The same God who spoke galaxies into existence knows our names, sees our struggles, hears our prayers, and walks with us through every moment. When that truth truly sinks in, it changes how we view our day. Our confidence no longer rests in what happens to us but in the One who is with us.

Unfortunately, many people struggle to believe that. We can intellectually agree that God loves us while still living as if we’re carrying our burdens alone. We worry about tomorrow, question His timing, and wonder if He’s forgotten about us. When doors close, opportunities disappear, or prayers seem delayed, it can be tempting to believe God is absent. But Scripture continually reminds us that God is always at work, even when we can’t see it.

Looking back on my own life, some of the moments that felt like disappointments ended up becoming some of God’s greatest blessings. What I thought was a setback was often His protection. What I viewed as a delay was usually preparation. His plans rarely unfold according to my preferred timeline, but they’ve always proven better than what I would have chosen for myself.

That’s why the message of “Good Day” resonates so deeply for me. It’s not a call to ignore hardships or pretend everything is perfect. It’s a declaration of trust. It’s choosing to believe that God is good even when life is difficult. It’s waking up and remembering that no matter what happens, the Lord is still on His throne, still working all things according to His purpose, and still holding His children in His hands.

So yes, today is a good day. Not because everything is easy. Not because every prayer has already been answered. Not because life is unfolding exactly how we planned. Today is a good day because God is faithful. He knows your name, He knows your story, and He is writing something greater than you can even imagine. Sometimes His plans look different than what we expected, but they are always marked by His wisdom, love, and goodness. And when we learn to trust that truth, we begin to realize that every day can be a good day when it’s lived in the presence of the One who holds the universe together.

Week in Reflection

This week was jam packed with God centered activities, both locally and throughout the surrounding area. First up was RiseFest. This annual Christian music festival celebrated its 20th year in 2026 and shattered attendance records with more than 30,000 people gathering over the course of the weekend. Deep dives into both days will be live soon, so stay tuned for those separate articles. But even before talking about specific artists, songs, or moments, there is something incredibly powerful about simply standing in a crowd of that size and hearing thousands upon thousands of voices singing praises to the Lord together. In a world that often feels divided and disconnected, events like RiseFest serve as a reminder that the body of Christ is far bigger than our local churches, communities, or even denominations. For two days, people from all walks of life came together with one purpose: to worship Jesus. The atmosphere is difficult to put into words unless you have experienced it yourself. If you’ve never attended RiseFest, I highly recommend adding it to your calendar now. RiseFest is already scheduled for 2027 on June 11th and 12th, and it is absolutely worth the trip.

The second major highlight of the week was the kickoff of Connection’s annual Leadership Series. Every summer, leaders and potential leaders from across the church gather for several weeks of intentional growth, encouragement, and discipleship. I always look forward to this season because it’s a tangible reminder that healthy churches do not happen by accident. They’re built by people who are willing to invest their time, energy, and gifts into serving others while continually growing in their own walk with Christ. What I appreciate most about Connection is how intentional the church is about developing people rather than simply filling positions. Leadership isn’t about titles or recognition; it’s about faithfully serving where God has placed you and helping others take their next steps in following Jesus. This summer, more than 100 people have been invited to participate, and that level of investment speaks volumes about the church’s commitment to discipleship and multiplication. I’m excited to see how God uses these next eight weeks to challenge us, encourage us, and equip us for the ministry He has called us to.

Weeks like this also remind me of the incredible blessing that Christian community truly is. Whether it’s worshiping alongside tens of thousands at a festival, learning alongside fellow believers in a leadership setting, or simply gathering with your local church on a Sunday morning, there’s something special about being connected to the body of Christ. We were never designed to walk this journey alone. God created us for community, accountability, encouragement, and mutual growth.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if you aren’t connected to a local church, it may be one of the most encouraging and life giving decisions you ever make. No church is perfect because no group of people is perfect, but there’s tremendous value in finding a church that faithfully teaches God’s Word, points people to Jesus, and provides opportunities to grow alongside other believers. Some of the greatest blessings, friendships, lessons, and opportunities that God has brought into my life have come through being connected to a local church. It’s one of the primary ways God shapes us, encourages us, and reminds us that we are part of something far bigger than ourselves.

And always 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

Psalm 139 confronts one of humanity's oldest fears: if God truly knew everything about us, would He still want us? David's answer is both comforting and challenging. The God who knows us completely is also the God who lovingly leads us in the way everlasting.

Based on the sermon by Joe Obermueller, Connection Church Sioux Falls, June 7, 2026.

Known, Pursued, and Led: The Comfort and Challenge of Psalm 139

There are few things in creation more humbling than looking into the night sky.

Modern astronomy continues to reveal a universe so vast that our minds struggle to comprehend it. Distances are measured in light years. Galaxies number in the billions. The farther we look, the more we realize how small we are. Yet as overwhelming as the universe may seem, David points us toward something even greater.

This week in our Summer in the Psalms series, elder Joe Obermueller led us through Psalm 139, a psalm that reveals not merely the greatness of creation, but the greatness of its Creator. David repeatedly points to truths about God that stretch beyond our ability to fully understand. In Psalm 139:6, he declares, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.”

The mystery isn’t simply that God is big. The mystery is that this infinitely great God knows us completely. And for many people, that thought can feel terrifying.

Sin whispers a familiar lie into every human heart that if God really knew everything about you, He would reject you. If He saw every failure, every secret thought, every hidden struggle, He would turn away.

Psalm 139 dismantles that lie.

The World Behind the Text

Psalm 139 is one of David’s most personal. Unlike many psalms that focus on external enemies or national concerns, this one turns inward. David reflects on God’s character and his own relationship with Him.

Throughout the psalm, David celebrates three attributes of God that theologians often describe as omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence.

Omniscience means God knows all things.

Omnipresence means God is present everywhere.

Omnipotence means God possesses all power.

While those words may sound technical, David presents them through poetry rather than theological formulas. He wants us to feel these truths as much as understand them.

God knows every word before it is spoken. He knows every thought before it is formed. He knows every step before it is taken.

God is present in every location. Whether David ascends into heaven or descends into Sheol, God’s presence remains. Whether he travels to the farthest reaches of the sea or finds himself surrounded by darkness, God is already there.

God is also the Creator who formed him in the womb. Every detail of his existence originated from God’s careful design and sovereign purpose.

For David, these truths are not frightening. They are deeply comforting.

Walking the Passage

The opening verses establish a remarkable reality.

“O Lord, you have searched me and known me!” (Psalm 139:1).

David isn’t speculating that God might know him. He’s declaring that God already does.

God knows when he sits down and when he rises up. God understands his thoughts from afar. God knows every path he walks and every place he rests.

Nothing is hidden.

At first glance, that level of exposure can feel uncomfortable. We spend much of our lives carefully managing what others see. We reveal certain parts of ourselves while concealing others.

God can’t be managed. He sees beneath every mask.

Yet David doesn’t describe God’s knowledge as oppressive. Instead, he describes it as loving care. God surrounds him behind and before. God lays His hand upon him.

Joe illustrated this beautifully through the image of an MRI machine.

An MRI reveals what can’t be seen on the surface. Its purpose is not to shame the patient but to identify what needs healing. In a similar way, God’s knowledge penetrates deeper than appearances. He sees beneath our outward actions into the hidden places of the heart.

Not to condemn. Not to humiliate.

But to heal.

David then shifts from God’s knowledge to God’s presence.

“Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?” (Psalm 139:7).

The answer is nowhere.

If he ascends to heaven, God is there. If he makes his bed in Sheol, God is there. If he flies to the farthest reaches of the sea, God is there. Even darkness can’t hide him.

This is one of the most comforting truths in all of Scripture. There’s no location where God’s people can find themselves beyond His reach. No season of suffering, no valley of grief, no moment of confusion exists outside His presence.

David concludes this section with a fascinating statement.

“If I awake, I am still with you” (Psalm 139:18).

At first glance, we might read this as waking up from sleep. Yet throughout Scripture, sleep often serves as a metaphor for death.

David uses similar language in Psalm 17:15.

“As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.”

Likewise, Job declares,

“For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God” (Job 19:25-26).

Neither David nor Job possessed the full revelation that we now have through Christ’s death and resurrection. Yet both expressed remarkable confidence that death would not be the end. Both anticipated a future day when they would behold God Himself.

What they hoped for, we know with certainty because Christ rose from the grave.

Because Christ lives, death has lost its final word.

A Fair Counter-Reading

One of the most challenging parts of Psalm 139 appears in verses 19-22.

After eighteen verses celebrating God’s greatness and care, David suddenly begins speaking about the wicked and expressing hatred toward those who oppose God.

To modern readers, this can feel jarring. It almost appears as though David is throwing a spiritual tantrum.

Yet David’s concern isn’t personal revenge.

Instead, Joe advised us that these verses reveal covenant loyalty. David loves God so deeply that he hates anything that opposes God’s goodness, holiness, and purposes.

His words reflect grief over sin’s destruction and a desire for God’s justice to prevail.

At the same time, the New Testament reminds believers to love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them (Matthew 5:44). The church is called to oppose sin while extending grace to sinners, just as Christ extended grace to us.

The tension is intentional. We should hate evil because God hates evil. Yet we should also long for redemption because God delights in saving sinners.

The Turn

The psalm concludes with one of the most courageous prayers in Scripture.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139:23-24).

This isn’t a request for information. God already knows David’s heart. This is a request for transformation.

David recognizes that there are blind spots within him. There are sins he can’t see. There are motives he doesn’t fully understand. There are patterns hidden beneath the surface.

Only God can reveal them.

More importantly, only God can lead him out of them.

The prayer isn’t simply, “Show me my sin.”

The prayer is also, “Lead me in the way everlasting.”

The Gospel reminds us that God’s conviction is never separated from His grace. He reveals sin not to crush His people but to conform them to the image of Christ.

The same God who searches us is the God who saves us. The same God who exposes our hearts is the God who heals them. The same God who knows us completely is the God who loves us completely through Jesus Christ.

Carry It Into the Week

Most of us naturally want God to search other people.

We notice the sins, weaknesses, and failures around us far more easily than the ones within us. David takes the opposite approach.

Before asking God to deal with the wicked, he asks God to deal with himself.

That’s a prayer worth repeating.

What if every morning this week began with Psalm 139:23-24?

What if we invited God to expose our pride, our selfishness, our bitterness, and our unbelief?

What if we trusted that His purpose was not shame but healing?

The beauty of Psalm 139 is that we never have to fear what God discovers. He already knows everything.

The God who searched us before we ever sought Him is the same God who sent His Son to redeem us.

There’s nowhere we can run that He isn’t already there.

There’s nothing He can uncover that Christ hasn’t already paid for.

And there’s no heart so broken that He can’t lead it in the way everlasting.

Song of the Week: Evidence - Citizen Way

Love is the evidence. This hook is the core of this week’s song, “Evidence” by Citizen Way. Mercy, grace, and compassion are beautiful words, but if they never move beyond our lips and into our actions, they remain little more than concepts. Love is what puts flesh on those words. It is what transforms theology from something we merely understand into something we actually live.

This idea echoes what Jesus taught His disciples in John 13:34-35 when He gave them a new commandment to love one another just as He had loved them. He then made a remarkable statement, saying that all people would know they were His disciples by their love for one another. Notice that Jesus didn’t say people would recognize His followers primarily by their church attendance, Bible knowledge, political views, or social media posts. While those things may have their place, the distinguishing mark of a Christian is love.

The kind of love Jesus spoke about is not simply a feeling. It’s sacrificial. It chooses patience when frustration would be easier. It extends forgiveness when resentment feels justified. It serves others even when there is nothing to gain in return. It notices the lonely, encourages the discouraged, and carries the burdens of those who are struggling. This is the same love Christ demonstrated when He laid down His life for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8).

When believers live this way, love becomes evidence of God’s work within them. It becomes visible proof that the Gospel is not just information but transformation. A watching world may debate doctrine, question beliefs, or challenge convictions, but genuine Christlike love is difficult to ignore. People may forget a sermon, but they often remember the person who showed up during their darkest moment. They may not recall every Bible verse quoted to them, but they remember the grace they experienced when they least deserved it.

Lives are changed when we act in love because love reflects the heart of God. Every act of kindness, every moment of forgiveness, every sacrifice made for another person points back to the One who first loved us. Love isn’t merely a byproduct of the Christian life; it’s one of the clearest pieces of evidence that Christ is truly at work in us. As followers of Jesus, we are called to be living proof of His love, allowing our actions to testify to the grace that has transformed our own hearts. When we do that, the world doesn’t just hear about Jesus, it catches a glimpse of Him through us.

Week in Reflection

This week has been rough, but honestly, not because of anyone else. The choices were mine. Several nights this week I stayed up past midnight, far beyond my normal routine. Some of that time was spent doing genuinely good things like hanging out with friends, traveling for a photography gig, and editing photos from the show afterward. None of those things are wrong. In fact, they’re all things I’m grateful for. I love the friendships God has given me, and I’m thankful for opportunities to use photography creatively.

But somewhere in the middle of all that, I ignored my limits. I traded rest for “just one more hour,” over and over again. And while staying up late isn’t automatically sinful, I started to notice the effects piling up. My mind felt foggy, my discipline weakened, my time with God became rushed, and the temptations I normally fight with more clarity suddenly felt louder. Little compromises became easier to entertain. My guard dropped.

That’s the part that’s hardest to admit. It wasn’t one dramatic moment; it was a slow drift. Exhaustion has a way of making spiritual vigilance feel optional, and I let that happen. I can see now how important rhythms and boundaries really are. God designed us to need rest, and when I consistently ignore that, it affects more than just my energy level. It affects my heart.

Right now, I feel ashamed and worn down. There’s that familiar feeling of disappointment, “I should know better by now.” But even in that, I’m reminded that the Gospel is not built on my ability to keep myself together. It’s built on Christ’s finished work. My failure doesn’t surprise God, and it doesn’t cancel His love for me. He invites me to come honestly, not pretend I’m fine.

So that’s where I’m at, not excusing my choices, but bringing them into the light. Repentance means turning back to Him, trusting that His mercy is real, and asking for strength to walk differently moving forward. I’m grateful that God’s grace is not exhausted by one bad week, or ten bad weeks. He is patient with His children.

I don’t have some polished conclusion or a neat lesson tied up in a bow on this one. I’m just reminded again that I need Jesus every single day in my routines, my sleep, my friendships, my work, and my battles with sin. And even when I feel beaten down, I know I can still run to Him, because He is faithful to forgive and restore those who come to Him in repentance.

And always 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

Fear has a way of exposing what we trust most. Psalm 62 invites us to loosen our grip on the fragile refuges of this world and find lasting rest in the God who alone is our rock, salvation, and fortress.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, May 31, 2026.

When the Turbulence Hits: Learning to Wait for God Alone

With 1 Corinthians now behind us, Connection Church begins its annual Summer in the Psalms series. This year starts with Psalm 62, a psalm often titled, “My Soul Waits for God Alone.” It’s a fitting place to begin because it addresses one of the most universal human struggles. Trust.

Pastor Jonathan opened with an image that was easy to picture. Imagine a passenger sitting on an airplane in severe turbulence. Every bump feels catastrophic. Every shake feels like the beginning of disaster. Their hands grip the armrests so tightly their knuckles turn white. They stare anxiously out the window, hoping the turbulence will stop.

Most of us can relate, even if we haven’t experienced that exact scenario. We know what it feels like to cling desperately to something when life becomes uncertain.

Yet there is a strange irony in that image. The passenger gripping the seat is trusting the wrong thing. The seat is not flying the plane. The armrest is not navigating the storm. The pilot is.

That analogy serves as a powerful picture of the Christian life. We often spend enormous amounts of energy clinging to things that were never designed to hold us up. Meanwhile, the One who truly carries us is already at work.

Psalm 62 calls us to stop trusting the seat and start trusting the Pilot.

The World Behind the Text

Psalm 62 is attributed to David, a man who knew instability better than most. Throughout his life he faced enemies, betrayal, political upheaval, family conflict, and seasons of deep personal failure.

The psalm itself suggests opposition. David describes enemies who seek to topple him from his position and delight in falsehood (Psalm 62:3-4). While we don’t know the exact historical setting, the language reflects someone under pressure, facing both external threats and internal temptations.

What makes the psalm remarkable is not the absence of danger. David never pretends everything is fine. Instead, he repeatedly directs his attention toward God.

The opening declaration sets the tone:

“For God alone my soul waits in silence; from Him comes my salvation.” (Psalm 62:1, ESV)

The word “alone” appears repeatedly throughout the psalm. David is intentionally narrowing his focus. His security is not found partly in God and partly in something else. God is not one refuge among many. He is the refuge.

That emphasis challenges a tendency that has existed throughout human history. We often want God plus something else. God plus financial security. God plus approval from others. God plus success. God plus comfort.

David refuses that arrangement.

Walking the Passage

One of the most convicting points from Sunday’s sermon was the idea of identifying our substitutes for God. Jonathan posed a simple but penetrating question, “What would you justify sin for?”

Consider lying. Most people know dishonesty is wrong. Yet many of us still find moments where we are tempted to bend the truth. Why? Usually because something else has become more important than obedience.

Perhaps we lie to protect our reputation. Perhaps we lie to avoid consequences. Perhaps we lie to preserve a relationship. In that moment, the thing we are protecting has become a functional substitute for God.

The issue isn’t merely the lie. The lie reveals what we trust. Psalm 62 exposes this reality. David warns against trusting power, wealth, and human strength.

“Put no trust in extortion; set no vain hopes on robbery; if riches increase, set not your heart on them.” (Psalm 62:10, ESV)

The warning remains relevant today. We may not place our hope in robbery, but we can easily place our hope in careers, achievements, relationships, possessions, or personal comfort.

The problem with these refuges is not that they are inherently evil. The problem is that they cannot bear the weight we place upon them.

Every worldly refuge eventually fails. Money can disappear. Relationships can change. Health can decline. Careers can end. Public approval can vanish overnight.

David points us toward the only refuge that cannot be shaken.

“He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.” (Psalm 62:6, ESV)

Notice the confidence of that statement. David doesn’t say he MIGHT not be shaken. He says he SHALL not be shaken. That confidence doesn’t come from his circumstances. It comes from the character of God.

Jonathan encouraged us to practice what he called “self recall.” In other words, preach God’s promises to yourself. This is something David models throughout the psalm. Rather than allowing fear to dictate his thoughts, he deliberately reminds himself who God is.

When suffering comes, remember God’s faithfulness.

When loneliness arrives, remember God’s presence.

When temptation presses in, remember God’s promises.

When anxiety grows louder, remember God’s sovereignty.

The Christian life often involves speaking truth to our own hearts before we speak it to anyone else.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers might hear Psalm 62 and conclude that trusting God means passively waiting for life to improve. If God is our refuge, does that mean we simply do nothing?

That interpretation misses the larger biblical picture.

Throughout Scripture, trusting God and acting faithfully go hand in hand. David trusted God deeply, yet he still fought battles, led people, prayed fervently, and made difficult decisions.

Waiting on God is not inactivity. It is dependence.

The difference lies in where our confidence rests. We work, serve, plan, and act, but we don’t place our ultimate hope in those efforts. Our confidence remains anchored in God rather than ourselves.

Psalm 62 is not a call to laziness. It is a call to surrender.

The Turn

Perhaps the most practical application from this week centered on prayer.

Many Christians unintentionally reduce prayer to a transaction. We bring requests. We offer thanks. Then we move on.

Yet the Psalms consistently present prayer as something far richer.

David doesn’t hide his emotions from God. He brings everything before Him.

Fear.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Confusion.

Joy.

Gratitude.

Hope.

Psalm 62:8 offers a beautiful invitation:

“Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.” (Psalm 62:8, ESV)

Pouring out your heart means holding nothing back. God already knows your frustrations. He already knows your doubts. He already knows your fears.

Prayer isn’t about informing God. It’s about bringing our hearts honestly before Him. At the same time, biblical prayer doesn’t stop with emotional honesty. It ultimately moves toward surrender.

Jesus modeled this perfectly in the Garden of Gethsemane when He prayed, “not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39, ESV).

That is where Psalm 62 leads us as well.

Trusting God means believing that His will is wiser than ours, even when the turbulence continues. It means believing that He sees what we cannot. It means believing that He remains in control when circumstances feel chaotic.

Most importantly, it means believing that our salvation rests not in our ability to hold on to Him, but in His ability to hold on to us.

Carry It Into the Week

Every one of us has a tendency to white-knuckle something.

For some, it’s financial security. For others, it’s a relationship. For others, it’s comfort, control, success, or approval.

Psalm 62 gently but firmly asks a difficult question, “What are you gripping that was never designed to carry your weight?”

The invitation isn’t simply to let go. The invitation is to transfer your trust.

God never asks us to abandon false refuges without providing a better one. He offers Himself. The God who sustained David. The God who fulfilled His promises through Christ. The God who knows every fear, every disappointment, and every struggle you carry.

When the turbulence comes, and it will come, remember the truth David discovered long ago.

“My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from him.” (Psalm 62:5, ESV)

The Pilot hasn’t lost control. The destination hasn’t changed.

And the One guiding your story can be trusted.

Song of the Week: Stigmata - Convictions

Convictions is a newer find for me when it comes to Christian music, and it is easily the heaviest Christian music I have ever heard. Which is probably why it works so well for me. Over the last few years, I’ve become increasingly convicted about the music I consume. Lyrics matter. Messages matter. What we repeatedly fill our minds with has an impact on us whether we realize it or not. At the same time, I have never been able to shake my love for hard hitting riffs, heavy breakdowns, and music that carries a certain intensity. For a while it felt like those two desires were at odds with one another. Then I discovered Convictions.

Convictions gives me the best of both worlds. They deliver the kind of heaviness that I naturally gravitate toward while also centering their music on biblical truth, redemption, and the Gospel. Their songs aren’t heavy just for the sake of being heavy. There is purpose behind the aggression and meaning behind every lyric.

I was first introduced to Convictions while covering a Demon Hunter concert, which you can read more about here. Their energy was contagious, but it was more than just a great live performance. The passion behind what they were singing felt genuine. It wasn’t simply entertainment. It felt like a testimony being delivered through distorted guitars and screamed vocals. As someone who spends a lot of time around live music, that authenticity stands out.

Enter “Stigmata,” a song about, you guessed it, the stigmata. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, it refers to, in Catholic tradition, the bodily wounds corresponding to those suffered by Jesus during His crucifixion. The song uses that imagery to point listeners directly back to Christ’s sacrifice. The chorus absolutely grabs me every time:

“Stigmata! His scars are the proof. No matter what you say, His words are the truth. Stigmata! Push these nails through. I sing for the Son.”

It’s a guttural reminder of what Christ did for each and every one of us. The brutality of the music almost serves as a reflection of the brutality of the cross itself. We often sanitize the crucifixion in our minds, reducing it to a familiar symbol we see every Sunday. But Christ’s sacrifice was violent, painful, and costly. Songs like this force us to confront that reality in a way that feels raw and unfiltered.

I know that some people won’t enjoy how heavy this song really is, and that’s completely understandable. Heavy music has always been a niche genre, especially within Christian circles. But personally, when I read some of the laments and cries for help throughout the Psalms, I can’t help but imagine David pouring out those words with a similar intensity. These weren’t polished, reserved prayers. They were desperate cries from a man who was afraid, angry, heartbroken, repentant, and completely dependent on God. While David may not have had distorted guitars and breakdowns, the emotions behind many of his Psalms feel anything but quiet.

That’s why I’ve always believed that the genre itself is secondary to the message being proclaimed. We can debate musical styles all day long, but we shouldn’t dismiss the truth being communicated simply because it comes packaged in a form we don’t personally enjoy. Even if screaming vocals and punching riffs aren’t your thing, the lyrics still point directly toward Christ and the hope found in Him.

One line that stands out to me is, “I lay my burdens at the tree. Only in death am I set free.” At first glance, it sounds incredibly morbid, but it captures a foundational truth of the Christian faith. We are called to die to ourselves, surrender our own desires, and place our burdens at the foot of the cross. Freedom isn’t found in holding tighter to our struggles; it’s found in giving them over to the One who already carried them for us. Every sin, every fear, every failure can be brought before Christ, knowing that His grace is sufficient.

And the beautiful thing is that He never asks us to carry those burdens alone. Time and time again, Scripture reminds us that God is present with His people. In seasons of joy, suffering, uncertainty, and victory, He remains faithful. That reality is summed up perfectly in the final stanza of the song, “Kingdom Come, Thy will be done.” It’s a statement of surrender, trust, and hope. A recognition that God’s plans are greater than our own and that His kingdom is worth pursuing above everything else.

No matter how chaotic life becomes, no matter how heavy the burden feels, Christ is still on the throne. His scars remain the proof. His promises remain true. And His presence remains constant for those who call upon His name.

Week in Reflection

This week was an amazing reminder of how God works through community. Over the course of several evenings, I had the opportunity to spend time with friends watching movies, playing pickleball, sharing meals, and simply talking late into the night. None of those moments were particularly extraordinary on their own, but together they became a powerful reminder of how God often uses the ordinary things in life to accomplish something extraordinary in our hearts.

It can be easy to overlook the value of these seemingly small moments. We often think life changing experiences have to come through major events, dramatic breakthroughs, or significant accomplishments. Yet God frequently works through simple conversations, shared laughter, and faithful friendships. A casual game, a movie night, or an honest discussion about life can become a source of encouragement exactly when it’s needed most.

One of the greatest blessings from this week was being reminded that I have friends who are more than just people to spend time with. They are people who are willing to walk through life together. They celebrate victories, listen during struggles, and provide support when things become difficult. When depression, anxiety, discouragement, or hardship begin to creep in, having a community of people who genuinely care can make an incredible difference. Their presence serves as a reminder that I do not have to carry life’s burdens alone.

This is one of the reasons Scripture places such an emphasis on Christian community. Hebrews 10:24-25 encourages believers to consider how to stir one another up to love and good works and to not neglect meeting together. God never intended for us to navigate life in isolation. From the very beginning, He created us for relationship first with Him and then with one another. Christian community isn’t simply a nice addition to our faith; it’s an essential part of how God strengthens, encourages, and matures us.

Looking back on this week, I am thankful for the friendships God has placed in my life. The conversations, laughter, competition on the pickleball court, and shared experiences may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but they have served as tangible reminders of God’s goodness and provision. Through these relationships, God continues to point me toward Christ and remind me that I am never alone.

My prayer for those reading is that you would find and invest in a community of Christ centered friends who encourage your faith and walk alongside you through every season of life. We were never meant to do life alone. God designed us to live in community, supporting one another, bearing one another’s burdens, and continually pointing each other back to Jesus.

And always 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

After sixteen chapters of correction, encouragement, theology, and practical instruction, Paul's message to the Corinthian church remains remarkably simple. Whatever the question, whatever the struggle, whatever the circumstance, the answer is ultimately found in Christ and His resurrection.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, May 24, 2026.

The Thread Running Through 1 Corinthians

There is something deeply satisfying about reaching the end of a long journey.

Over the past several months, we have walked chapter by chapter through Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth. We have wrestled with difficult passages, explored complex doctrines, and confronted challenging applications. Along the way, Paul addressed division, sexual immorality, lawsuits among believers, marriage, singleness, Christian liberty, worship, spiritual gifts, and the resurrection.

At first glance, 1 Corinthians can feel like a collection of unrelated issues. One chapter discusses church conflict. Another focuses on marriage. Another dives into spiritual gifts. Yet another builds one of the most robust defenses of the resurrection found anywhere in Scripture.

But as we reach the end of the letter and look back, a remarkable pattern emerges.

Every road leads back to Jesus.

The World Behind the Text

The church in Corinth was messy.

Located in a prosperous and influential city, the Corinthian believers struggled to separate themselves from the values of the culture around them. They carried worldly assumptions into the church and then wondered why problems followed.

Sound familiar?

The Corinthians often approached their faith by asking questions similar to the ones Christians ask today.

How should we handle disagreements? What should our relationships look like? How do we use our freedoms? What does spiritual maturity look like? How should worship function? What happens after death?

Paul answers every one of these questions, yet he refuses to let the conversation stay merely practical. Instead, he consistently moves beneath the surface and addresses the deeper issue.

Their greatest need was not better techniques. Their greatest need was Christ.

Walking the Passage

One of the most fascinating observations from this study is how frequently Paul points to Jesus throughout the letter.

Across sixteen chapters, Paul uses the name Jesus twenty six times, Christ sixty four times, and Lord sixty six times. These aren’t accidental references sprinkled throughout the letter. They reveal Paul’s central focus.

Everything revolves around Christ.

When the Corinthians were dividing into factions, Paul pointed them to Christ crucified.

When they were tolerating sin, Paul pointed them to Christ’s holiness.

When they struggled with pride, Paul pointed them to Christ’s humility.

When they misunderstood love, Paul pointed them to Christ’s example.

When they questioned the resurrection, Paul pointed them to Christ’s victory over death.

Paul never treats Jesus as a supporting character in the Christian life. Jesus IS the Christian life. This is why Paul writes, “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2, ESV).

That statement is not a rejection of theology or practical wisdom. Rather, it is a declaration that every aspect of theology and wisdom finds its center in Christ.

When we dig deeply enough into any issue, we eventually arrive at the cross.

When we ask how to forgive, we find Christ.

When we ask how to love, we find Christ.

When we ask how to endure suffering, we find Christ.

When we ask what gives life meaning, we find Christ.

When we ask what happens after death, we find Christ and His resurrection.

The world constantly offers competing answers. It tells us fulfillment can be found in success, relationships, wealth, status, self-expression, or personal achievement.

Paul disagrees.

Christ is not one answer among many. Christ IS the answer.

That truth can sound exclusive in a culture that celebrates endless options. Yet Christianity has always proclaimed that ultimate hope is found in a person, not a philosophy.

Jesus Himself declared, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6, ESV).

The gospel does not present Christ as an enhancement to life. It presents Him as life itself.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers may object that reducing every issue to “Jesus is the answer” oversimplifies the complexities of life.

After all, Scripture contains practical commands, wisdom literature, and detailed ethical teaching. Doesn’t Christianity require more nuanced answers than simply pointing to Christ?

There is truth in that concern.

Paul certainly provides practical instruction throughout 1 Corinthians. He gives specific guidance regarding marriage, worship, church discipline, generosity, and spiritual gifts. Christianity is not opposed to practical wisdom.

Yet Paul never allows practical wisdom to become disconnected from the person and work of Jesus.

The issue is not whether practical answers matter. The issue is whether those answers remain rooted in the Gospel.

Paul’s genius is that he refuses to separate doctrine from discipleship. The practical instructions always flow from the reality of who Christ is and what He has accomplished.

The Turn

One of the challenges facing modern Christians is the temptation to blend into the surrounding culture. We often want to be accepted, understood, and comfortable.

Yet Paul consistently calls believers toward something different.

He calls them toward holiness, sacrificial love, and toward a life shaped by the cross.

In many ways, genuine Christianity should appear strange to the world.

Not because Christians seek to be offensive or are trying to stand out. But because the values of Christ often run contrary to the values of the culture.

Paul closes the letter with a simple but profound command: “Let all that you do be done in love” (1 Corinthians 16:14, ESV).

That sounds simple until we attempt to live it.

Responding to criticism with love, serving others before ourselves, forgiving those who hurt us, and choosing humility over self promotion are all countercultural.

Living every aspect of life through the lens of Christ’s sacrificial love will often make us appear strange in a world built on self interest.

But perhaps that is exactly the point. The church was never called to look like Corinth. The church was called to look like Christ.

Carry It Into the Week

As we close the book of 1 Corinthians, it is worth pausing to recognize what has happened.

You have journeyed through an entire book of the Bible.

That may not feel significant at first glance, but it truly is.

In a culture increasingly driven by short attention spans and quick answers, you have spent time dwelling deeply in God’s Word. You have wrestled with difficult passages. You have explored theology. You have followed Paul’s argument from beginning to end.

That is no small accomplishment.

More importantly, my hope is that this study has accomplished what Paul intended all along.

Not merely that you would know more about Corinth or that you would understand more theology. But that you would see Christ more clearly.

Because every chapter ultimately points to Him.

Every correction, every command, every promise, and every hope points to Him.

As we move into our Summer in the Psalms series, my prayer is that the same hunger for God’s Word continues to grow in anyone who reads this. Scripture is not simply information to consume. It is God’s revelation of Himself, culminating in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Thank you for walking through this journey with me.

I hope you’ll continue to join me as we turn the page and begin exploring the Psalms together.

Song of the Week: Confidence - Sanctus Real

We all have things that scare us. For some, it’s spiders crawling across the floor. For others, it’s standing in front of a crowd to speak or looking over the edge of a towering height. Fear is something every person experiences in one way or another. Yet some of the deepest fears are not physical at all. Sometimes the hardest fears to face are the spiritual ones. The fear of speaking openly about our faith at work. The fear of being judged by family or friends. The fear of defending what we believe when difficult conversations arise. Even as Christians, fear has a way of making us feel small and uncertain.

That is why Sanctus Real’s song Confidence resonates with people. The song is more than just catchy lyrics or a powerful chorus. It’s a prayer. A cry for God to give ordinary people extraordinary faith in the middle of life’s battles.

“So give me faith like Daniel in the lion’s den.” Daniel stood surrounded by danger, yet he trusted God even when fear should have overwhelmed him. That lyric becomes a prayer asking God to help us stand firm when life feels intimidating and uncertain. Help me not to run from the things that scare me. Help me trust You even when I feel surrounded.

“Give me hope like Moses in the wilderness.” Moses spent years wandering through uncertainty, yet God never abandoned His promises. Sometimes life feels like a wilderness season where prayers seem unanswered and the road ahead feels unclear. This line reminds us to ask God for hope that sees beyond present struggles and believes He is still leading us somewhere greater.

“Give me a heart like David, Lord be my defense.” David faced giants, enemies, and impossible odds, but his confidence was never in his own strength. His confidence came from knowing who fought beside him. That same prayer applies to our own lives when battles come in the form of anxiety, hardships, temptation, grief, or spiritual struggles. We ask God to fight for us when we are too weak to fight on our own.

“So I can face my giants with confidence.” That single line captures the heart of the Christian walk. Confidence doesn’t mean we never feel afraid. It means we know fear doesn’t have the final word because God is greater than whatever stands in front of us. The giants in our lives may not be literal warriors or lions, but they are still real. Fear, doubt, insecurity, suffering, and uncertainty can all feel massive in the moment. Yet through Christ, we are reminded that we do not face those giants alone.

True confidence is not rooted in ourselves. It is rooted in knowing that God is our salvation, our hope, and our strength. He is faithful in every season, present in every battle, and stronger than every fear we carry. My prayer is not only that God continues to grow this confidence in my own life, but that everyone reading this would pray the same thing. That God would give us faith when we are afraid, hope when we feel lost, strength when we feel weak, and confidence to face whatever lies ahead knowing He walks beside us every step of the way.

Week in Reflection

This week truly felt like the beginning of summer. The weather is getting warmer, the days are stretching longer, and suddenly calendars start filling with opportunities to connect with people outside again. Between bonfires with friends, dreaming about future travel plans, and stepping into a new opportunity with photography at church, it felt like one of those weeks where God quietly reminds me how much beauty can be found in everyday moments.

There is just something special about summer bonfires. Maybe it’s the slower pace, the glow of the fire cutting through the darkness, or the way conversations seem to naturally go deeper when everyone is gathered around together. This week brought a night like that, sitting around the fire with friends talking about life, interests, future goals, and everything in between. One of the biggest conversations ended up being the possibility of organizing a trip to Japan in 2027, which honestly still feels surreal to even talk about.

What started as a casual discussion quickly turned into excited conversations about places we would want to visit, food we would want to try, and experiences we would love to share together. Beyond the excitement of travel itself, moments like that remind me how important community really is. Fellowship is not always confined to church walls or organized Bible studies. Sometimes it happens around folding chairs in a backyard while smoke from a fire drifts through the air and everyone shares pieces of their lives with one another. Those moments matter deeply because they create opportunities to encourage one another, laugh together, and witness how God is moving in each person’s journey.

Alongside those moments of fellowship came an opportunity that honestly pushed me out of my comfort zone in the best way possible. This week I had the privilege of photographing services at Connection Church. From morning prayer before service began, to the welcome team greeting people at the doors, to baptisms during worship, and the sermon itself, it was an incredibly humbling experience to try and capture the heart behind everything happening throughout the morning.

Going into it, I was definitely nervous. Photography is always interesting because there is a balance between technical skill and simply being present enough to recognize meaningful moments as they happen. Walking into an environment where every moment carries spiritual significance added an entirely different layer to that responsibility. I wanted to do justice to the joy of baptisms, the sincerity of prayer, and the welcoming atmosphere that so many people work hard to create every Sunday.

Even though I have not received feedback on the photographs yet, I walked away feeling genuinely grateful for the opportunity itself. There were multiple moments throughout the services where I could feel God guiding my attention toward moments that deserved to be captured. A smile during worship, someone deep in prayer, or the excitement and emotion surrounding baptisms. Moments that may seem small from the outside but carry so much meaning within them. It reminded me that photography, at its best, is more than simply taking pictures. It becomes a way of preserving moments that reflect joy, community, faith, and the work God is doing in people’s lives.

As summer continues to unfold, I find myself increasingly excited for what lies ahead. The season is only beginning, yet already it has brought opportunities for deeper fellowship, new experiences, and reminders of God’s faithfulness in both big and small ways. Whether it’s conversations around a bonfire, planning adventures down the road, or stepping into opportunities that feel intimidating at first, I am thankful for the ways God continues to open doors and create moments worth remembering.

If this is only the beginning of summer, I truly cannot wait to see what the rest of the season holds.

And always 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

Paul closes 1 Corinthians with both tenderness and urgency. His final words call believers to courage, vigilance, and unwavering love while warning that a heart untouched by love for Christ stands under judgment.

Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, May 17, 2026.

Strong Hands, Gentle Hearts: Paul’s Final Charge to the Church

Sometimes the clearest truths arrive through the strangest illustrations.

Before walking through 1 Corinthians 16:13-24, Jonathan showed a clip from the animated film Ferdinand, a story about a massive bull who would rather smell flowers than destroy everything around him. The image connected immediately to one of his favorite idioms: a bull in a china shop. Strength without gentleness leaves destruction behind. Power without love crushes what is fragile.

That friction sits at the center of Paul’s closing words to the Corinthian church.

After sixteen chapters of correction, rebuke, encouragement, theology, and pastoral pleading, Paul lands the plane with a final charge. Be watchful. Stand firm. Act like men. Be strong. Yet in the same breath he commands, “Let all that you do be done in love” (1 Corinthians 16:13-14).

It is one of the clearest summaries of Christian maturity in the entire letter. Followers of Christ are not called to passive weakness, nor are they called to domineering aggression. The church is meant to embody courage wrapped in love, conviction shaped by grace, and truth carried with gentleness.

The bull must learn not to destroy the china shop.

The World Behind the Text

The church in Corinth struggled deeply with division. Throughout the letter Paul addressed factions, pride, sexual immorality, lawsuits, selfish worship practices, abuses of spiritual gifts, and confusion surrounding the resurrection. Again and again, the apostle confronted believers who were acting more like rival tribes than a united family.

This explains why Paul’s closing commands carry both military and relational language.

When Paul says, “Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong” (1 Corinthians 16:13), he is drawing from the vocabulary of soldiers guarding a city wall. The commands are sharp and active. Stay awake. Do not retreat. Hold your position. Resist compromise.

Yet Paul immediately balances this with a command that transforms how strength is expressed: “Let all that you do be done in love” (1 Corinthians 16:14).

That matters because Corinth had confused spiritual maturity with self importance. Some believers prized knowledge over people. Others elevated spiritual gifts while humiliating weaker members of the church. Earlier in the letter Paul already dismantled this mindset by declaring that without love, even the most impressive spirituality amounts to nothing (1 Corinthians 13:1-3).

Love was never optional decoration for Christian living. It was the evidence that Christ Himself was shaping the church.

In many ways, Paul spends the final lines of this letter circling back to its central theme. If it is not rooted in Christlike love, it does not reflect Christ at all.

Walking the Passage

Paul’s final instructions move quickly, but they are packed with pastoral wisdom.

First, he reminds believers to remain alert. Spiritual drift rarely happens all at once. Churches seldom collapse overnight. Compromise usually enters quietly through apathy, distraction, bitterness, or pride. To “be watchful” means remaining spiritually awake in a world constantly pulling believers away from faithfulness.

Second, Paul commands the church to “stand firm in the faith” (1 Corinthians 16:13). Notice he does not say stand firm in preferences, personalities, or traditions. The foundation is the Gospel itself. Corinth had become distracted by status and division, but Paul continually pointed them back to Christ crucified and risen.

This firmness matters today just as much as it did then. Christian conviction is not arrogance. Standing firm does not mean becoming combative for the sake of winning arguments online or humiliating opponents. It means refusing to abandon the truth of Jesus even when the surrounding culture shifts beneath our feet.

Then comes the phrase often translated “act like men” (1 Corinthians 16:13). In context, Paul is not excluding women from courage or maturity. The phrase carries the idea of spiritual bravery and steadfastness. The church must grow up. Believers are called toward maturity, not spiritual infancy.

Yet Paul refuses to let strength become harshness.

“Let all that you do be done in love” (1 Corinthians 16:14).

That sentence should stop every Christian in their tracks. Every act of correction. Every theological conviction. Every confrontation with sin. Every defense of truth. Every act of service. Every disagreement. Every sermon. Every ministry.

All of it must be done in love.

Not sentimental love that ignores evil. Not shallow niceness pretending sin is harmless. Biblical love seeks the good of others according to God’s truth. Love sometimes comforts, but love also warns. Love restores, rebukes, and protects.

That balance becomes even clearer when Paul begins speaking about Stephanas and the other believers who refreshed his spirit (1 Corinthians 16:15-18). Paul points to ordinary faithful Christians who quietly strengthened the church through service and encouragement. These were not celebrity leaders or powerful public figures. They were devoted servants.

The church thrives because of people like this.

People who encourage rather than divide. People who refresh weary souls instead of draining them. People who quietly serve Christ without demanding recognition.

Paul calls the church to honor such believers because the kingdom of God grows through humble faithfulness far more than flashy influence.

Then the letter shifts sharply.

Paul takes the pen into his own hand and writes a personal closing: “If anyone has no love for the Lord, let him be accursed. Our Lord, come!” (1 Corinthians 16:22).

These are startling words.

A Fair Counter-Reading

Some readers struggle with Paul’s language here because it sounds severe, even unloving. Modern readers often prefer a softer Christianity that avoids themes like judgment, condemnation, or divine wrath altogether.

It’s understandable why this verse creates discomfort.

Some interpret Paul’s statement as merely emotional frustration or rhetorical exaggeration. Others argue that emphasizing judgment risks pushing people away from Christ rather than drawing them toward Him.

There’s an important caution worth hearing. Christians absolutely have misused passages about judgment in cruel or manipulative ways. Churches have sometimes weaponized condemnation without reflecting the mercy and patience of Jesus.

Yet removing judgment entirely creates a different problem. A Christianity with no accountability, no holiness, and no warning ultimately empties the Gospel of its urgency.

Paul’s warning only makes sense because he genuinely believes eternity is at stake.

The Turn

What makes Paul’s warning so powerful is that it comes wrapped inside love.

The same apostle who wrote the great chapter on love in 1 Corinthians 13 also warns that those who reject Christ remain under judgment. These truths are not opposites. In Scripture, love warns because love cares.

A parent who sees danger and says nothing is not loving. A doctor who refuses to diagnose illness for fear of offending a patient is not compassionate. Likewise, the church cannot claim love while remaining silent about sin and separation from God.

Paul’s statement is sobering because eternity is sobering.

But Christians should also hear the comfort within this passage. Those who belong to Christ do not need to fear condemnation. Earlier in the letter Paul repeatedly reminded believers that they were sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be saints (1 Corinthians 1:2).

The warning exposes what is false while strengthening what is genuine.

This is why Paul ends with hope: “Our Lord, come!” (1 Corinthians 16:22).

The church lives in expectation of Christ’s return. Christians are not simply enduring history until death arrives. We are waiting for the King.

That expectation changes how believers live. We stay watchful because Christ is coming. We stand firm because Christ is victorious. We love because Christ first loved us. We reject evil because Christ is holy. We endure because Christ will return and make all things right.

Paul’s final blessing captures the heart behind the entire letter: “My love be with you all in Christ Jesus” (1 Corinthians 16:24).

Even after all the correction, all the rebukes, and all the hard truths, Paul’s final posture toward the church is love.

That is the heartbeat of Christian discipleship.

Strong hands. Gentle hearts. Truth wrapped in grace.

Carry It Into the Week

It is easy to drift toward one extreme or the other.

Some Christians emphasize truth so heavily that they become harsh, suspicious, and constantly combative. Others emphasize love in ways that avoid hard conversations or blur biblical conviction altogether.

Paul refuses both distortions.

The church is called to courageous love.

That means standing against evil without becoming consumed by anger. It means confronting sin while remembering our own need for grace. It means protecting what is fragile rather than bulldozing people in the name of righteousness.

In a culture increasingly shaped by outrage and division, the church should look different. Christians should be people marked by conviction without cruelty and gentleness without compromise.

As we close 1 Corinthians alongside Paul, his message remains deeply relevant: stay awake, stand firm, be strong, and let everything be done in love until Christ returns.

Song of the Week: Beautiful - Hulvey

I had the chance to see Hulvey when he was part of Lifelight in 2023. Lifelight has become such a unique part of the culture here in Sioux Falls because every year it brings free Christian music to the city in a huge way. It is more than just a festival full of concerts; it is an event built around worship, community, and sharing the love of Christ with anyone who shows up. No matter your age, background, or favorite style of music, there is something powerful about seeing people gather together with a common purpose centered on faith.

While I didn’t get the chance to catch Hulvey’s entire set that year, I was able to hear him perform this song live, which at the time was one of his most popular tracks. Even with only seeing part of the performance, it was enough to leave an impression on me. There was an authenticity to the way he performed that stood out immediately. It didn’t feel forced or manufactured. It simply felt real, like someone honestly sharing their heart and faith through music.

What makes that even more interesting for me personally is the fact that I don’t usually listen to a lot of hip hop. It has never really been the genre I naturally gravitate toward. However, every once in a while there are certain artists who break through those preferences because there is something deeper behind the music. Hulvey ended up being one of those artists for me. Even though I have not fully explored his entire catalog yet, this particular song continues to stand out every single time it comes on. Some songs fade over time, but others continue to carry emotions and spirituality no matter how many times you hear them, and this is definitely one of those songs for me.

The part that impacts me the most is the realness found within the chorus. There is something incredibly powerful about music that does not try to overcomplicate faith but instead points back to the simple truth that God’s presence is enough. In a world where so many people are searching for peace, purpose, identity, or fulfillment in countless different places, songs like this serve as a reminder that true satisfaction can only be found in Him. God’s love is not conditional on how successful we are, how strong our faith feels in a particular moment, or whether life is currently going well. His love remains constant through every high and every low.

That message resonates because every season of life looks different. Some seasons are full of joy, excitement, and answered prayers, while others feel heavy with uncertainty, exhaustion, disappointment, or grief. Yet through all of it, God remains faithful. His presence does not disappear when circumstances become difficult. If anything, those are often the moments where His love becomes even more evident.

My hope is that this song, whether you enjoy hip hop or not, would resonate with you in that same way. Beyond the beat, the production, or the style of music itself, I hope the message cuts through clearly: that God’s presence truly is enough, and that He freely gives His love to us no matter what season we may currently be walking through.

Week in Reflection

This week has been filled with multiple photography gigs, late nights, and the kind of exhaustion that settles deep into your bones. Between editing photos, traveling between venues, sorting through thousands of shots, and trying to balance everyday responsibilities on top of it all, it would have been easy to feel overwhelmed, and sometimes I did. Yet through every moment of tiredness, God has continued to provide the strength and energy needed to accomplish everything that was already on the calendar. Even when the schedule felt packed beyond reason, nothing had to be missed or canceled, including sitting down to write this reflection. Looking back on the week, it is hard not to see God’s hand sustaining every moment of it.

What has made this week even more encouraging is seeing a couple of amazing photography contracts get approved for Christian artists like TobyMac and Michael W. Smith. Opportunities like these feel especially meaningful right now because over the last several weeks there has been a growing conviction in my heart regarding some of the bands and environments I have been covering. While photography has opened countless doors and created incredible experiences, there has also been a deeper wrestling with whether every opportunity truly aligns with the direction God is calling me toward.

That is why seeing these new doors open feels so significant. It isn’t just about getting another contract or another show to photograph. It feels like confirmation that God hears those inner struggles and is gently guiding this journey in a direction that honors Him more fully. There is something refreshing about being able to combine creativity, passion, and faith in a way that feels spiritually uplifting rather than spiritually conflicting.

One of the most amazing things about following God is how often He provides reassurance at exactly the right time. Sometimes that reassurance comes through Scripture, sometimes through people, and sometimes through opportunities that seem to appear out of nowhere just when encouragement is needed most. These recent opportunities serve as a reminder that God is not absent from the details of our careers, hobbies, or dreams. He cares deeply about where we are being led and what influences shape our hearts along the way.

Even in the exhaustion of this busy week, there is a renewed sense of hope growing. Hope that this photography adventure is not just random chance or self made ambition, but something God can actively use for His glory. Hope that He is capable of opening the right doors while closing the wrong ones. And most importantly, hope in knowing that no matter how uncertain the future may feel at times, God continues to faithfully provide exactly what is needed for each step forward.

And always 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

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.