Rooted in Jesus Grace

Ezekiel 13 is one of the most sobering passages in the Old Testament. It pulls back the curtain on what happens when people claim to speak for God—but don’t. The chapter begins with a divine rebuke: “Son of man, prophesy against the prophets of Israel who are now prophesying. Say to those who prophesy out of their own imagination: ‘Hear the word of the Lord!’” (Ezekiel 13:2) God exposes religious voices who claimed divine insight but were actually echoing their own imaginations. They spoke peace when God was declaring judgment, and comfort when repentance was required. They said, “This is what the Lord says,” when the Lord had not spoken. It’s easy to read Ezekiel 13 and shake our heads at ancient Israel. But we live in an age full of voices claiming to hear from God—sometimes in ways strikingly similar. One modern parallel can be found in what’s often called  listening prayer —the practice of sitting quietly before God and writing or speaking what we sense He might be saying. Done...

  Something subtle—but significant—is happening in many church cultures today. A shift is taking place in how we define what it means to be close to God. Increasingly, the markers of spiritual health are emotional and experiential:  Did you feel something in worship? Did you hear something in prayer? Did you sense something during the sermon? And if you didn’t? You might leave wondering if something’s wrong with you. This modern lean toward mystical experiences and emotional highs is often well-intentioned. After all, God created emotion. He does meet people in deeply personal ways. But when feelings and subjective experiences become the standard for maturity, we end up confusing spiritual sensitivity with spiritual depth—and trading maturity for mysticism. The Rise of Experiential Faith Many contemporary worship environments are designed to stir strong emotions: the lighting, the music, the repetition, the language. None of these things are wrong in themselves. The Psalms are...

In many church cultures today, a quiet revolution is shaping how we define spiritual maturity. It’s not formal doctrine, church attendance, or even Bible reading that signals deep faith. It’s whether or not someone “hears God’s voice.” This phrase—once a way to describe prayerful reflection or biblical insight—has taken on a more mystical meaning in many circles. It now often implies direct, personalized messages from God in the form of inner impressions, mental pictures, or spontaneous thoughts. Christians are encouraged to “listen in prayer,” to pause in silence and wait for His whisper, to seek His personal guidance on everything from what to say in a conversation to what shoes to buy. And those who claim to hear Him regularly—who can speak confidently about what “God told them”—are quietly elevated as more spiritual, more in tune, more mature. But is this how the Bible defines spiritual maturity? The New Standard: Divine Reception The pressure to hear God personally is subtle but s...

In an age where sentiment often trumps substance, it has become increasingly trendy—even within the church—to prioritize “love” and “unity” above all else. You’ve likely heard the familiar refrain:  “The world will know we are Christians by our love, not by our doctrine.”  It sounds noble. It even sounds biblical. But when used to sideline truth, this sentiment becomes dangerous. Yes, Jesus did say the world would know we are His disciples by our love (John 13:35). But in that same discourse—in the very next chapter of John—He also prayed, “ Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth ” (John 17:17). Jesus never separated love from truth. He never taught that unity should come at the expense of doctrine. In fact, He explicitly tied sanctification—our being set apart from the world—to truth. Truth Defines the Boundaries of True Unity The modern push to elevate love over doctrine often assumes that truth divides and love unites. But biblically speaking, truth defines the very...

In marketing, a “bait and switch” occurs when a seller advertises one thing to draw you in, only to deliver something quite different once they have your trust. Unfortunately, some pastors and preachers do the same thing. They say what they know their congregation needs—or wants—to hear in order to maintain credibility and avoid controversy, but their actual teachings and practices reveal something altogether different. This dynamic is especially present in movements influenced by the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR), a loosely organized but widespread network of churches and leaders exposed in part by the careful research of Holly Pivec and theologian R. Douglas Geivett. These leaders often profess mainstream evangelical theology—on the surface. But once you’re “in,” the language shifts, the emphasis changes, and suddenly you realize the foundation is not quite what it seemed. Orthodox Words, Heterodox Practice Take, for instance, the doctrine of  apostolic authority . NAR leaders ...

Years ago, a pastor said something to me that didn’t sit right: “This church has the strongest elder board in the country.” “God gave me a vision of Him giving me the Father’s heart.” They were bold, confident statements. They sounded spiritual. Visionary, even. And yet—I didn’t see the fruit. I wasn’t experiencing the kind of leadership that matched those claims. And the more I reflected, the more I realized: I wasn’t being invited into a dialogue. I was being asked to accept a narrative. Without question. And that’s the problem. ⸻ The Manipulative Power of Spiritual Claims There’s a subtle form of spiritual control that doesn’t come through shouting, rules, or overt commands. It comes through big, emotionally charged, untestable claims: • “God gave me a vision.” • “We have the most anointed leadership.” • “This is a special move of God.” • “We carry a unique mantle in this city.” These phrases can create awe and trust—but they can also create confusion and pressure, especially when t...