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It's not you, it's me
Today we begin a new series about relationships. Over the past three weeks, our guest speakers have been like a window punched into a dark room, illuminating things. Now our focus turns to building the strength of the church — building who we are — and over the next four weeks, we're looking into relationships.
The title of this series is It's not you, it's me. I wonder how many of us have actually used that line in a relational breakup. It's not you, it's me — when really what you mean is, it's not you, it's not me, it's actually Rachel in accounts.
But we're talking about more than just husband-wife or boyfriend-girlfriend relationships. We're talking about all relationships in life, and the key to making them a success.
There's a moment right at the beginning of the Bible where God says to Adam, "It is not good for you to be alone." That's amazing, because the fact is, Adam wasn't alone. He had God.
Sometimes we sing, "God, all I need is You." There's truth to that — but there's also not truth to that. If all we needed was God, then He simply would have made Adam and wouldn't have needed Eve, apart from the multiplication process. But Eve was created for far more than "go forth and multiply." God recognised that you and I need more than a vertical relationship. We need more than God. We need each other as well.
I believe one of the enemy's greatest works is this: he interrupts our relationships on a horizontal level, and in doing so, tries to interrupt our relationship on a vertical level. For example, if we have a broken relationship with our father on earth, people often carry a broken idea of Father God in heaven. If we're not careful, relational breakdown can distract us so much that we not only blame God but also interrupt the joy of the journey of life.
Here's a fact: every relationship loses momentum from time to time. Every marriage will. Every boyfriend-girlfriend relationship will. Every relationship on team, in the workplace — all of them will have times of losing momentum. But there is a solution in those moments that sees us through to the other side.
And it's important to understand that God has deliberately placed us in relationship. The friendships you have right now are God's idea. The church you're in is God's idea.
Years ago I read about a young woman who — in pre-digital days — sent an actual photo to her boyfriend Mike in the post. He opened it and thought, "It's beautiful. It captured her eyes, her smile, the magnificence of her face."
Then he flipped it over, and on the back it read:
"Dear Mike, I love you. I will love you all the days of my life. I love you with every ounce of my being. Looking forward to seeing you on Friday. Lots of love." Then she wrote: "P.S. If ever we break up, I want the photo back."
How many of you know the P.S. undoes everything that came before? It's like when Hollywood superstars sign a prenuptial agreement: "I love you until the end of days, but P.S. — when things get difficult, you can have that part and I'll have this part."
We often go into relationships with a P.S., because we know what it's like to have our hearts broken. And you can have your heart broken by more than a romantic relationship — by your best mate, by a boss, by a pastor, by so many things.
I believe the answer to loss of momentum and to fractured relationships comes down to one simple thing. It's the C-word: commitment.
The thing about commitment is that commitment costs. If you're going to commit to something, it will cost you something. You don't get a degree from a university without paying a cost. It costs you to have a marriage that lasts beyond the honeymoon and into your later years.
I heard about a checkout attendant scanning food for an elderly couple who were about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. She said, "I can't imagine being married for 50 years." The man replied, "Well, honey, I would suggest that you don't get married until you can imagine yourself being married for 50 years."
Commitment to anything costs something. If you want to be healthy, it's going to cost you.
Let me set the scene with a launch pad for this message and this series. It's the classic moment in the Old Testament where a shepherd boy named David takes on Goliath, the giant champion of the enemy army.
Every day Goliath came out to taunt, belittle, and intimidate the army of God. He said, "Bring out your champion. If I beat your champion, you become our slaves. If you beat me, we become yours." And for 40 days — the number of testing — this happened, and God's people quaked in fear.
Which is amazing, because God had already done incredible things among them. Isn't it amazing how quickly, in the midst of challenge, pressure, or the valley, we forget the goodness of God?
That's why you have to get your praise on. What praise does is remind you of the story of God:
God, I declare Your goodness, Your greatness. You are wonderful, magnificent. You're a saving God. You're a God who heals. You're a God who works wonders.
You have to do that, because for six and a half days a week you're living in a fallen world — disappointment all around, social media, the news, the soap operas, Netflix, inundated with negativity.
Despite everything God had done, His people still quaked in fear. Then came a shepherd boy who was not trained in warfare and didn't know the "protocol."
Whenever you walk into a room, you assess the protocol. This Tuesday I'll be in Parliament, and the first thing I'll do is work out the protocol — where permission is granted and where it isn't. David should have assessed the protocol of the moment and concluded, "This is a season of fear, a season to quake and tremble."
But David didn't know that protocol, because David was a warrior at heart but a worshipper in fullness.
It was David's worship that gave him confidence when he saw Goliath. Let me tell you why many Christians fail when they face a challenge: because they're not worshippers. They've forgotten the power of worship. Instead of putting worship on at home, instead of coming to church and lifting their hands, we make it about us and run to the medicine cabinet instead of the place of prayer.
But David was a worshipper. As a worshipper he had already fought a bear and a lion. Now this shepherd boy — on Deliveroo duty, just delivering sandwiches to his brothers on the front line — sees the giant. Because he was a worshipper, he knew God. He lived filled with the declaration of God.
When you put the praise of God in your mouth, it changes your mind. When you declare His goodness, His greatness, His wonder — when you remind Him of the things He has done — something happens in your spirit.
David looked at everyone quaking and said, "Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he would defy the armies of God?" Even King Saul said, "No, you can't — you're too small." He had no armour, no sword, nothing. But David was a worshipper.
So please, when you come to church, come ready to worship. Get your hands out of your pockets. Lift your hands. When it's a moment to jump, jump. When it's a moment to kneel, kneel. But don't just stand there. The worship made him a warrior.
Here's something remarkable. When David fought Goliath, Goliath was big at a distance. The Bible says David ran at Goliath, and Goliath ran at David. If he was that big at a distance, imagine how much bigger he grew with every step.
The closer you get to some things, the bigger the giant feels. But if you are a worshipper, you are a warrior. David slung the stone, took Goliath's own sword, and cut off his head — in front of everybody.
In this moment, King Saul's son Jonathan — think of him as our Prince William, next in line to the throne — saw this unusual thing happen. Because when you're a worshipper, unusual things happen, unusual conversations take place, doors open. When you posture your heart in a place of worship even at work on a Tuesday morning — not singing out loud, but because you're a worshipper — things happen, because God is up to something.
David had already been anointed king by a prophet, but nobody knew it. Jonathan recognised something different was on David.
1 Samuel 18 says Jonathan made an agreement because he loved David as much as himself. He took off his coat and gave it to David, along with his armour, his sword, his bow, and his belt.
Think about that relationship. David had gone from being a shepherd to becoming a global superstar overnight — and Jonathan invested in him. He gave him armour, because David had none. He gave him a sword, because David had none. He gave him a royal tunic, because David had none.
But Jonathan was giving him more than armour. He was surrendering through commitment. He was making a sacrifice that said, "I will not be the next king." He surrendered position, status, authority, and his whole future — everything he'd been groomed for his entire life — to invest into relationship.
Friends, commitment will cost you. It will cost you to get married, and it will cost you to stay married. It will cost you to be an active member of the church of God. It will require sacrifice. But the key is commitment, and commitment costs.
Let me help you with something. Commitment is about living by priorities, not by pressure.
We're coming into summer, and people are heading off on holiday — Yorkshire, Spain, France. If you're like me, there's excitement about going, but in the back of your mind you know that when you get home, your inbox will be overflowing. Ever look at that inbox and just want to delete everything without reading a thing?
I'm a Gen Xer — I remember when emails were first invented, and the pressure to respond. Then came texts, WhatsApps, and voice notes. (If you love me, church, never send me a voice note. If you can't be bothered to text it, I can't be bothered to listen — put it succinctly into fewer than 50 words.) I refuse to let your voice note become my pressure. That's what I'm trying to say.
We live our lives under pressure. Someone texts, and an hour later: "Did you get the text? Did you get the text?" It's like the DFS sale — the eagle-eyed salesman spots you eyeing the sofa and says, "This is the last one in stock, and someone rang about it five minutes ago, so if you want it, buy it now." Before long we panic-buy, even though we know full well DFS always has a sale.
Commitment in relationships is about learning to live by priorities and not by pressure. When David went to battle against the giant, he didn't do it because of pressure. He did it because of his priority — to worship God and put God in His rightful place. When he saw the giant, he said, "Who do you think you are, speaking about my God that way?" Everyone else was responding to pressure. David was responding to priority.
Look at Jesus in John 5. He had just healed a lame man on the Sabbath — a double scandal: he performed a miracle and broke the religious protocols of the day. Now the crowds pursued Him, and so did the angry religious leaders. Whenever Jesus is up to something, people gather.
Jesus said:
"I don't seek my own will, but the will of the Father who sent me."
In other words: I'm not going to live my life based on the pressures you put on me. I'm living on the basis of priority — to do my Father's will.
Last year I was talking with my life coach in Dallas, Texas, about my roles and responsibilities. He helped me understand that we all carry four bags through life:
You may have seen the illustration of a science professor holding a cup of water and asking, "How heavy is this?" People guess the ounces and pounds. But the professor says, "It's not the weight of the water that's heavy — it's the length of time you carry it." Hold it briefly and it's light. Hold it for a long time and it becomes heavier, more stressful, more painful. The longer you carry it, the more support you need.
There are things in God's bag you were never designed to carry. When I look in God's bag, I see tomorrow — none of your business, not yours to carry.
Jesus says in Matthew, "Do not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow has enough trouble of its own."
Yet how many of us are anxious about Monday, next month, next year, retirement? We carry justice, other people's hearts, unanswered questions — everything beyond our control belongs in God's bag. At first it doesn't feel heavy, but the longer you carry it, the heavier it gets.
Here we carry things that belong to somebody else — their choices, actions, reactions, consequences, and expectations. Their priorities become ours. If we're not careful, we end up carrying for other people what God asked them to carry.
Because you're faith-filled, good stewards, you often pick things up simply because someone needed to. "If I don't carry it, who will?" This bag holds imagined expectations, problems that aren't yours, offences that belong to other people, and burdens God never asked you to carry.
This is the reason God put you on planet Earth. Work is not just about paying the bills — it's your vocation, your ministry, your calling. God put Adam in the garden to work the garden. Work is a four-letter word, but part of our worship to the Lord. It's getting out of bed on Monday not saying, "Oh no, I have to go to work," but "I'm going to work. My life counts. I'm the answer to a question. I'm fulfilling a role for the purposes of God."
But by the time we get to the bag we're actually called to carry, we're so exhausted from carrying God's bag, someone else's bag, and nobody's bag. No wonder we're not breaking through. No wonder there's a mental health crisis in this nation. No wonder we're not sleeping.
But Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest." He helps us say: "This is God's — I was never meant to carry it. John, this is yours — I love you, I'll walk with you, but this is your bag. And nobody's bag — I'm not picking that up. I'm going to carry the bag God has called me to carry."
It will cost you to lay these bags down, because often our identity is tied up in our control — but God has control. Sometimes our identity is tied up in other people's opinions of us, based on how well we carry their priorities.
Here's the question: What are you called to carry?
When you know what God has called you to carry, He puts people in your life who are called to carry the same things with you.
The Bible asks, "Can two walk together unless they first agree?" It also says, "Do not be yoked with unbelievers."
Don't be tied to people, carrying their responsibilities, when those are not the responsibilities God has given you. The greatest takeaway here — beyond commitment — may simply be: "I need to put down some bags. That's why I'm so exhausted." There is joy in carrying the God-ordained bag and purpose He has for you. That's why David won the war — he wasn't carrying the wrong bags. He carried the presence of God as a worshipper, and knew he could do the impossible.
When we started this church 18 years ago, a pastor friend spoke into our lives about three types of relationships you'll have in a lifetime: comrades, constituents, and confidants.
Neither of these is bad. We need comrades and we need constituents; both are part of healthy relational building.
He told us: if in your lifetime you can count your confidants on one hand, you are a blessed person.
After 30 years of pastoring, 30 years of marriage, 30 years of walking this journey, I've realised there have been comrades and constituents for a season, and it's always sad to say goodbye. But the times I've been hurt the most are when confidants let me down — when what I told them became coffee-table conversation.
When you've had your heart broken, you become like a jar meant to hold liquid. If it smashes, you can pick up the pieces and put it back together — but the fractures remain, and it may not carry what it used to carry. When you've been broken by relationships, it can be hard to trust again.
But I want to encourage you.
Luke 9:62 says, "No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God."
You cannot navigate your way forward by looking back. God is the God of hope, the God who heals, the God who restores broken hearts.
Philippians 3:13 says, "One thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus laid hold of me."
Church, you cannot write the next chapter of your life while you keep rewriting and re-reading the last one.
Today is the day to stop, put down this bag, and this bag, and this bag, and say, "Lord, heal my heart, so I can become a person who learns what it is to commit again."
Because relational dysfunction is answered by this: it's not you, it's me.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
It's not you, it's me
Today we begin a new series about relationships. Over the past three weeks, our guest speakers have been like a window punched into a dark room, illuminating things. Now our focus turns to building the strength of the church — building who we are — and over the next four weeks, we're looking into relationships.
The title of this series is It's not you, it's me. I wonder how many of us have actually used that line in a relational breakup. It's not you, it's me — when really what you mean is, it's not you, it's not me, it's actually Rachel in accounts.
But we're talking about more than just husband-wife or boyfriend-girlfriend relationships. We're talking about all relationships in life, and the key to making them a success.
There's a moment right at the beginning of the Bible where God says to Adam, "It is not good for you to be alone." That's amazing, because the fact is, Adam wasn't alone. He had God.
Sometimes we sing, "God, all I need is You." There's truth to that — but there's also not truth to that. If all we needed was God, then He simply would have made Adam and wouldn't have needed Eve, apart from the multiplication process. But Eve was created for far more than "go forth and multiply." God recognised that you and I need more than a vertical relationship. We need more than God. We need each other as well.
I believe one of the enemy's greatest works is this: he interrupts our relationships on a horizontal level, and in doing so, tries to interrupt our relationship on a vertical level. For example, if we have a broken relationship with our father on earth, people often carry a broken idea of Father God in heaven. If we're not careful, relational breakdown can distract us so much that we not only blame God but also interrupt the joy of the journey of life.
Here's a fact: every relationship loses momentum from time to time. Every marriage will. Every boyfriend-girlfriend relationship will. Every relationship on team, in the workplace — all of them will have times of losing momentum. But there is a solution in those moments that sees us through to the other side.
And it's important to understand that God has deliberately placed us in relationship. The friendships you have right now are God's idea. The church you're in is God's idea.
Years ago I read about a young woman who — in pre-digital days — sent an actual photo to her boyfriend Mike in the post. He opened it and thought, "It's beautiful. It captured her eyes, her smile, the magnificence of her face."
Then he flipped it over, and on the back it read:
"Dear Mike, I love you. I will love you all the days of my life. I love you with every ounce of my being. Looking forward to seeing you on Friday. Lots of love." Then she wrote: "P.S. If ever we break up, I want the photo back."
How many of you know the P.S. undoes everything that came before? It's like when Hollywood superstars sign a prenuptial agreement: "I love you until the end of days, but P.S. — when things get difficult, you can have that part and I'll have this part."
We often go into relationships with a P.S., because we know what it's like to have our hearts broken. And you can have your heart broken by more than a romantic relationship — by your best mate, by a boss, by a pastor, by so many things.
I believe the answer to loss of momentum and to fractured relationships comes down to one simple thing. It's the C-word: commitment.
The thing about commitment is that commitment costs. If you're going to commit to something, it will cost you something. You don't get a degree from a university without paying a cost. It costs you to have a marriage that lasts beyond the honeymoon and into your later years.
I heard about a checkout attendant scanning food for an elderly couple who were about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. She said, "I can't imagine being married for 50 years." The man replied, "Well, honey, I would suggest that you don't get married until you can imagine yourself being married for 50 years."
Commitment to anything costs something. If you want to be healthy, it's going to cost you.
Let me set the scene with a launch pad for this message and this series. It's the classic moment in the Old Testament where a shepherd boy named David takes on Goliath, the giant champion of the enemy army.
Every day Goliath came out to taunt, belittle, and intimidate the army of God. He said, "Bring out your champion. If I beat your champion, you become our slaves. If you beat me, we become yours." And for 40 days — the number of testing — this happened, and God's people quaked in fear.
Which is amazing, because God had already done incredible things among them. Isn't it amazing how quickly, in the midst of challenge, pressure, or the valley, we forget the goodness of God?
That's why you have to get your praise on. What praise does is remind you of the story of God:
God, I declare Your goodness, Your greatness. You are wonderful, magnificent. You're a saving God. You're a God who heals. You're a God who works wonders.
You have to do that, because for six and a half days a week you're living in a fallen world — disappointment all around, social media, the news, the soap operas, Netflix, inundated with negativity.
Despite everything God had done, His people still quaked in fear. Then came a shepherd boy who was not trained in warfare and didn't know the "protocol."
Whenever you walk into a room, you assess the protocol. This Tuesday I'll be in Parliament, and the first thing I'll do is work out the protocol — where permission is granted and where it isn't. David should have assessed the protocol of the moment and concluded, "This is a season of fear, a season to quake and tremble."
But David didn't know that protocol, because David was a warrior at heart but a worshipper in fullness.
It was David's worship that gave him confidence when he saw Goliath. Let me tell you why many Christians fail when they face a challenge: because they're not worshippers. They've forgotten the power of worship. Instead of putting worship on at home, instead of coming to church and lifting their hands, we make it about us and run to the medicine cabinet instead of the place of prayer.
But David was a worshipper. As a worshipper he had already fought a bear and a lion. Now this shepherd boy — on Deliveroo duty, just delivering sandwiches to his brothers on the front line — sees the giant. Because he was a worshipper, he knew God. He lived filled with the declaration of God.
When you put the praise of God in your mouth, it changes your mind. When you declare His goodness, His greatness, His wonder — when you remind Him of the things He has done — something happens in your spirit.
David looked at everyone quaking and said, "Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he would defy the armies of God?" Even King Saul said, "No, you can't — you're too small." He had no armour, no sword, nothing. But David was a worshipper.
So please, when you come to church, come ready to worship. Get your hands out of your pockets. Lift your hands. When it's a moment to jump, jump. When it's a moment to kneel, kneel. But don't just stand there. The worship made him a warrior.
Here's something remarkable. When David fought Goliath, Goliath was big at a distance. The Bible says David ran at Goliath, and Goliath ran at David. If he was that big at a distance, imagine how much bigger he grew with every step.
The closer you get to some things, the bigger the giant feels. But if you are a worshipper, you are a warrior. David slung the stone, took Goliath's own sword, and cut off his head — in front of everybody.
In this moment, King Saul's son Jonathan — think of him as our Prince William, next in line to the throne — saw this unusual thing happen. Because when you're a worshipper, unusual things happen, unusual conversations take place, doors open. When you posture your heart in a place of worship even at work on a Tuesday morning — not singing out loud, but because you're a worshipper — things happen, because God is up to something.
David had already been anointed king by a prophet, but nobody knew it. Jonathan recognised something different was on David.
1 Samuel 18 says Jonathan made an agreement because he loved David as much as himself. He took off his coat and gave it to David, along with his armour, his sword, his bow, and his belt.
Think about that relationship. David had gone from being a shepherd to becoming a global superstar overnight — and Jonathan invested in him. He gave him armour, because David had none. He gave him a sword, because David had none. He gave him a royal tunic, because David had none.
But Jonathan was giving him more than armour. He was surrendering through commitment. He was making a sacrifice that said, "I will not be the next king." He surrendered position, status, authority, and his whole future — everything he'd been groomed for his entire life — to invest into relationship.
Friends, commitment will cost you. It will cost you to get married, and it will cost you to stay married. It will cost you to be an active member of the church of God. It will require sacrifice. But the key is commitment, and commitment costs.
Let me help you with something. Commitment is about living by priorities, not by pressure.
We're coming into summer, and people are heading off on holiday — Yorkshire, Spain, France. If you're like me, there's excitement about going, but in the back of your mind you know that when you get home, your inbox will be overflowing. Ever look at that inbox and just want to delete everything without reading a thing?
I'm a Gen Xer — I remember when emails were first invented, and the pressure to respond. Then came texts, WhatsApps, and voice notes. (If you love me, church, never send me a voice note. If you can't be bothered to text it, I can't be bothered to listen — put it succinctly into fewer than 50 words.) I refuse to let your voice note become my pressure. That's what I'm trying to say.
We live our lives under pressure. Someone texts, and an hour later: "Did you get the text? Did you get the text?" It's like the DFS sale — the eagle-eyed salesman spots you eyeing the sofa and says, "This is the last one in stock, and someone rang about it five minutes ago, so if you want it, buy it now." Before long we panic-buy, even though we know full well DFS always has a sale.
Commitment in relationships is about learning to live by priorities and not by pressure. When David went to battle against the giant, he didn't do it because of pressure. He did it because of his priority — to worship God and put God in His rightful place. When he saw the giant, he said, "Who do you think you are, speaking about my God that way?" Everyone else was responding to pressure. David was responding to priority.
Look at Jesus in John 5. He had just healed a lame man on the Sabbath — a double scandal: he performed a miracle and broke the religious protocols of the day. Now the crowds pursued Him, and so did the angry religious leaders. Whenever Jesus is up to something, people gather.
Jesus said:
"I don't seek my own will, but the will of the Father who sent me."
In other words: I'm not going to live my life based on the pressures you put on me. I'm living on the basis of priority — to do my Father's will.
Last year I was talking with my life coach in Dallas, Texas, about my roles and responsibilities. He helped me understand that we all carry four bags through life:
You may have seen the illustration of a science professor holding a cup of water and asking, "How heavy is this?" People guess the ounces and pounds. But the professor says, "It's not the weight of the water that's heavy — it's the length of time you carry it." Hold it briefly and it's light. Hold it for a long time and it becomes heavier, more stressful, more painful. The longer you carry it, the more support you need.
There are things in God's bag you were never designed to carry. When I look in God's bag, I see tomorrow — none of your business, not yours to carry.
Jesus says in Matthew, "Do not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow has enough trouble of its own."
Yet how many of us are anxious about Monday, next month, next year, retirement? We carry justice, other people's hearts, unanswered questions — everything beyond our control belongs in God's bag. At first it doesn't feel heavy, but the longer you carry it, the heavier it gets.
Here we carry things that belong to somebody else — their choices, actions, reactions, consequences, and expectations. Their priorities become ours. If we're not careful, we end up carrying for other people what God asked them to carry.
Because you're faith-filled, good stewards, you often pick things up simply because someone needed to. "If I don't carry it, who will?" This bag holds imagined expectations, problems that aren't yours, offences that belong to other people, and burdens God never asked you to carry.
This is the reason God put you on planet Earth. Work is not just about paying the bills — it's your vocation, your ministry, your calling. God put Adam in the garden to work the garden. Work is a four-letter word, but part of our worship to the Lord. It's getting out of bed on Monday not saying, "Oh no, I have to go to work," but "I'm going to work. My life counts. I'm the answer to a question. I'm fulfilling a role for the purposes of God."
But by the time we get to the bag we're actually called to carry, we're so exhausted from carrying God's bag, someone else's bag, and nobody's bag. No wonder we're not breaking through. No wonder there's a mental health crisis in this nation. No wonder we're not sleeping.
But Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest." He helps us say: "This is God's — I was never meant to carry it. John, this is yours — I love you, I'll walk with you, but this is your bag. And nobody's bag — I'm not picking that up. I'm going to carry the bag God has called me to carry."
It will cost you to lay these bags down, because often our identity is tied up in our control — but God has control. Sometimes our identity is tied up in other people's opinions of us, based on how well we carry their priorities.
Here's the question: What are you called to carry?
When you know what God has called you to carry, He puts people in your life who are called to carry the same things with you.
The Bible asks, "Can two walk together unless they first agree?" It also says, "Do not be yoked with unbelievers."
Don't be tied to people, carrying their responsibilities, when those are not the responsibilities God has given you. The greatest takeaway here — beyond commitment — may simply be: "I need to put down some bags. That's why I'm so exhausted." There is joy in carrying the God-ordained bag and purpose He has for you. That's why David won the war — he wasn't carrying the wrong bags. He carried the presence of God as a worshipper, and knew he could do the impossible.
When we started this church 18 years ago, a pastor friend spoke into our lives about three types of relationships you'll have in a lifetime: comrades, constituents, and confidants.
Neither of these is bad. We need comrades and we need constituents; both are part of healthy relational building.
He told us: if in your lifetime you can count your confidants on one hand, you are a blessed person.
After 30 years of pastoring, 30 years of marriage, 30 years of walking this journey, I've realised there have been comrades and constituents for a season, and it's always sad to say goodbye. But the times I've been hurt the most are when confidants let me down — when what I told them became coffee-table conversation.
When you've had your heart broken, you become like a jar meant to hold liquid. If it smashes, you can pick up the pieces and put it back together — but the fractures remain, and it may not carry what it used to carry. When you've been broken by relationships, it can be hard to trust again.
But I want to encourage you.
Luke 9:62 says, "No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God."
You cannot navigate your way forward by looking back. God is the God of hope, the God who heals, the God who restores broken hearts.
Philippians 3:13 says, "One thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus laid hold of me."
Church, you cannot write the next chapter of your life while you keep rewriting and re-reading the last one.
Today is the day to stop, put down this bag, and this bag, and this bag, and say, "Lord, heal my heart, so I can become a person who learns what it is to commit again."
Because relational dysfunction is answered by this: it's not you, it's me.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
