What Do You Do When You Feel Like Giving Up?

There’s a particular kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. You’re not just worn out — you’re worn down. The job, the diagnosis, the bills, the relationship that keeps not getting better. You keep showing up, but somewhere in the back of your mind a quiet voice says, *I don’t know how much longer I can do this.*

If that’s where you are, you’re in good company — and there’s a very old piece of writing that speaks to it head-on.

Faith is more like a marathon than a mood

A lot of people assume “faith” is a warm, certain feeling — something you either have or you don’t. But one of the letters in the Bible, written to a group of exhausted and discouraged people, uses a completely different picture. It compares living by faith to running a long-distance race.

That’s an oddly honest image. Nobody calls a race effortless. Races are long. They hurt. There’s a stretch in the middle where every part of you wants to stop. The Bible doesn’t pretend otherwise — it even names the exact feeling, warning against the point where we “grow weary and lose heart.” Whoever wrote those words had clearly been there.

So if faith feels less like floating and more like grinding it out, you’re not doing it wrong. You may be doing it exactly right.

First, put down what you’re carrying

The letter gives two pieces of surprisingly practical advice. The first is to “lay aside every weight.”

Picture someone showing up to a race in a winter coat and work boots, pockets stuffed full. Nobody runs like that. You strip down to almost nothing, because anything extra just slows you down.

Here’s the part that catches people off guard: the “weight” isn’t only the obviously bad stuff. It’s anything holding you back — including things that are perfectly fine on their own. A habit. A grudge you keep rehearsing. A way of proving yourself that’s quietly wearing you out. The question isn’t always “is this bad?” Sometimes it’s just “is this slowing me down?” A big part of moving forward is being honest about what you’ve been carrying that you were never meant to run with.

Then fix your eyes on someone who already finished

The second piece of advice is where it gets personal. The letter says to run “fixing our eyes on Jesus.”

Any runner will tell you that you don’t stare at your feet or glance back at the people behind you — you lock onto the finish line. For Christians, that finish line has a face. The claim of the Bible is that Jesus ran this exact race first and finished it perfectly. He faced the worst thing a person can face — a brutal, humiliating execution — not because he wanted the pain, but because of what was waiting on the other side of it. He could see past the suffering to the joy beyond it.

And this is the part that changes everything: he didn’t stay dead. The heart of the Christian message is that Jesus was executed, buried, and then raised back to life three days later — proof that the finish line is real, and that death doesn’t get the last word.

The part that takes the pressure off

Here’s what makes this different from a self-help pep talk. You are not running to earn a finish line you might miss. The race has already been won — Jesus crossed the line first, and he did it for you. So you keep going not because everything rides on your performance, but because the outcome is already secure and the One who finished is cheering you on. The Bible even promises he comes back for the ones who fall behind.

You don’t need it all figured out to start. You fix your eyes on him, and you take the next step.

First Baptist Church Concord meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:30 AM and worship at 10:45 AM.

We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

→ Planning your first visit? [Here’s what to expect.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/planning-your-visit/)
→ Looking for community? [Here’s how to meet people.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/how-do-i-meet-people/)
→ Ready to get involved? [Here’s where you can serve.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/where-can-i-serve/)


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What Is the Lord’s Supper — and Who Is It Really For?

If you’ve ever visited a church and watched everyone pass around a small piece of bread and a tiny cup, you may have felt like you’d walked in on an inside joke everyone else understood. It can look solemn, a little mysterious, and — if you didn’t grow up with it — kind of strange. So it’s a fair thing to ask out loud: what is this, and is it for someone like me?

A meal that remembers a death

The ritual is often called communion; a lot of churches call it the Lord’s Supper. It traces back to the night before Jesus was executed, when He shared a final meal with His closest friends. He took bread and said, “This is my body, which is for you.” He lifted a cup and called it a “new covenant” — a new promise — sealed in His blood. Then He said something simple: *do this to remember me.*

So at its heart, the Lord’s Supper isn’t magic and it isn’t a performance. It’s a memory. People eat the bread and drink the cup to remember that Jesus willingly gave His life for them. As one line in the Bible puts it, every time they do it, they “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

Why a death is good news

If talk of body and blood sounds intense, you’re not wrong — it is. But there’s a reason the language is that vivid. Christians don’t remember Jesus’ death as a tragedy they’re stuck grieving. They remember it as a rescue.

The belief underneath it is that every one of us carries a real problem — we’ve done wrong, and we can’t undo it on our own. Instead of leaving us to settle that ourselves, Jesus stepped into our place and settled it for us. The bread and the cup are physical reminders of a debt that’s already been paid. That’s why the mood is usually quiet but not sad. It’s the difference between mourning a loss and exhaling in relief.

The surprising part: who the table is for

Here’s where it gets pointed. One of the earliest churches, in a city called Corinth, turned the Lord’s Supper into a status contest. The wealthy ate well and ate early; the poor got the scraps, if anything was left. A leader named Paul sent them a blunt letter: you’ve missed the entire point. The whole meaning of this meal is that everyone at the table stands on equal ground.

That’s still the scandal of it. There’s no VIP section. It doesn’t matter whether you make seven figures or you’re doing your best just to get by. It doesn’t matter how put-together your life looks or how far from put-together you feel. The table was made for people who know they need help — which, if we’re honest, is every single one of us.

What that means if you’re just exploring

You don’t need your beliefs sorted out to be welcome in the room. Watching a church share the Lord’s Supper is actually one of the clearest windows you’ll get into what Christians believe: that no one is too far gone to be included, and no one is too important to need grace.

If that’s something you’d like to see up close — no pressure, no spotlight — you’re welcome to just come and watch.

**First Baptist Church Concord** meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:30 AM and worship at 10:45 AM.
We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

→ Planning your first visit? [Here’s what to expect.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/planning-your-visit/)
→ Looking for community? [Here’s how to meet people.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/how-do-i-meet-people/)
→ Ready to get involved? [Here’s where you can serve.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/where-can-i-serve/)


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If Faith Is Real, Why Do Faithful People Still Suffer?

There’s a suspicion a lot of people quietly carry about religion: that it survives by over-promising. Follow the rules, say the prayers, and life is supposed to go well for you. So when someone who did everything “right” gets handed a diagnosis, a loss, or a stretch of years that just won’t let up, the whole thing can start to feel dishonest — or even cruel.

If that’s close to where you are, here’s something that might surprise you. The Bible saw that objection coming, and instead of dodging it, one of its most famous chapters walks straight into it.

An ancient list that refuses to airbrush the truth

There’s a chapter near the end of the Bible — Hebrews 11 — that reads like a hall of fame for people known for their faith. The first half goes about how you’d expect: people who won impossible battles, escaped danger, and saw their weakness turned into strength.

And then, halfway through, it turns. The same chapter says that others who had the exact same faith were mocked, imprisoned, tortured, and killed. It doesn’t tuck that into a footnote. It lists it, plainly, right alongside the victories.

Two groups. The same trust in God. Two completely different outcomes in this life. And the Bible calls both of them faith.

Why that honesty is worth paying attention to

Most things that want your loyalty hide the downside. The ad shows you the highlight, not the fine print. So it’s genuinely striking to find a book that puts the hard part in writing.

Christianity, at its source, never promised that trusting God buys you a smooth life. The people who first received the letter of Hebrews were losing homes, jobs, and standing in their community for their faith — and the author doesn’t tell them it will blow over. He tells them the truth.

There’s something you can actually trust in that. A faith that’s honest about suffering isn’t a weaker faith. It’s the only kind worth having when suffering finally shows up at your door — and it will, for all of us, religious or not.

So what is the promise, if it isn’t an easy life?

Here’s the center of it, and it’s not “try harder and grin through the pain.”

The Christian claim is that God didn’t stay at a safe distance from human suffering. He stepped into it. Jesus — who Christians believe is God in person — lived the life we couldn’t, then took on the worst this world does: he was betrayed, tortured, and executed, though he had done nothing to deserve it. He was buried. And then, three days later, his followers say God raised him from the dead — bodily, permanently alive again.

That’s what the Bible means by *resurrection*: not a comforting idea that we live on in someone’s memory, but the claim that death itself gets reversed. Because Jesus walked out of his own grave, he can promise the same to everyone who trusts him.

So the promise was never a pain-free life now. The promise is a life to come where the pain doesn’t get the final say — what the passage itself calls a “better resurrection.”

Where that leaves you, and your questions

None of this asks you to have your grief tied up in a bow, or to pretend the hard things don’t hurt. The people in that ancient chapter didn’t. Some of them died still waiting on a promise they trusted but never got to see.

If faith, for you, has felt like something that only works for people whose lives came out okay — that’s not the faith this passage describes. This one has room for the question you’re actually carrying. And it points to a God who has been through suffering himself, and came out the other side.

That’s a good reason to come sit in a room with people who are asking the same things you are.

First Baptist Church Concord meets every Sunday —
 
Sunday School at 9:30 AM and worship at 10:45 AM.
We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

→ Planning your first visit? [Here’s what to expect.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/planning-your-visit/)
→ Looking for community? [Here’s how to meet people.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/how-do-i-meet-people/)
→ Ready to get involved? [Here’s where you can serve.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/where-can-i-serve/)


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Does Your Past Disqualify You From God?

Most of us keep a private list of reasons we assume God would want to keep His distance. A stretch of years we’re not proud of. A reputation that follows us around. A quiet sense that religious people are one kind of person, and we’re another kind entirely.
If any of that sounds familiar, there’s someone in the Bible worth meeting. Her name is Rahab.
 
The unlikeliest name on the list
 
Rahab lived in a city called Jericho, in a story from the Old Testament (the first part of the Bible). By every measure of her day, she was the wrong person. The Bible plainly says she made her living as a prostitute. She was on the losing side of a war. She had no religious pedigree and no respectable standing.
And yet, centuries later, the New Testament book of Hebrews puts her name on a short list of people held up as examples of faith—right alongside heroes like Moses. As Pastor Jim said on Sunday, she’s “one woman with the worst resume in the Bible who ends up standing inside the family of God,” while people who lived their whole lives in that city did not.
If your instinct is that people with a past don’t belong in that kind of story, Rahab is standing there to tell you otherwise.
 
 
What actually changed her situation
Here’s the part that surprises people: Rahab didn’t clean up her life first and then earn her way in.
Word had reached her city about the things Israel’s God had done—including parting a sea so His people could escape an army. Most people in Jericho heard the same reports and did nothing. Rahab heard them, decided they were true, and acted on it. She protected two of God’s people, and she was told to tie a bright red cord in her window as a sign. When the city fell, she and her whole family were spared.
That is the pattern the Bible calls faith: you hear what God has said, you believe it is actually true, and you do something about it. It isn’t a feeling, and it isn’t a reward for being respectable. It’s trust that moves.
 
Why your past isn’t the disqualifier you think it is
 
This isn’t a one-time exception. The same thread runs through the whole Bible—God bringing in the outsider, the foreigner, the person nobody expected, on the basis of faith rather than background.
Pastor Jim put it plainly on Sunday. He believes that even back at that first Passover in Egypt, if an Egyptian had heard God’s warning and trusted Him enough to act on it, that family would have been spared too. It was never about which side you were born on. It was about whether you trusted Him.
So if the thought of belonging at a church makes your stomach tighten because of what you’ve done or where you’ve been, hear this clearly: the door is wider than you think. It always has been.
 
So where does that leave you?
 
You don’t have to become presentable before you come. That was never the requirement—not for Rahab, and not for you.
Faith starts the same way it started for her. You hear what God has said about you: that He loves you, that Jesus stepped into your place, and that anyone who turns to Him is welcomed, not screened. You decide it’s true. And you take a step toward Him.
A past doesn’t disqualify you. The only thing that keeps anyone out is deciding the door isn’t for them. Rahab decided it was—and it opened.
 
First Baptist Church Concord** meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:30 AM and worship at 10:45 AM. We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.
→ Planning your first visit? [Here’s what to expect.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/planning-your-visit/)
→ Looking for community? [Here’s how to meet people.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/how-do-i-meet-people/)
→ Ready to get involved? [Here’s where you can serve.](https://www.fbcconcord.org/where-can-i-serve/)

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Is Following Jesus Actually Worth It?

There’s a quiet calculation a lot of people run before they ever step into a church. Not “Is any of this true?” — that comes later. The first question is more honest: What is this going to cost me? Your Sunday mornings. Your reputation with certain friends. The freedom to call your own shots. And under all of it, the real question — if I actually gave my life to this, would it be worth it?

That’s not a cynical question. It’s a fair one. And a very old passage in the Bible takes it head-on.

The man who walked away from a palace

Hebrews chapter 11 tells the story of Moses, who grew up with everything. He was raised in the household of Pharaoh, the most powerful ruler on earth — the best education, real wealth, a clear path to power. And he walked away from all of it.

The text says he chose “to endure ill treatment with the people of God than to enjoy the passing pleasures of sin” (Hebrews 11:25). In plain terms: he decided a hard life connected to God was worth more than a comfortable life spent away from Him. “Sin” here isn’t a list of naughty behaviors — it’s the whole project of running your life as if God isn’t part of the equation.

Moses looked at the most comfortable life available to him and decided it wasn’t enough.

Why the Bible is honest about the cost

If the idea of following Jesus makes you nervous that it might actually ask something of you — you’re reading it correctly. Christianity has never pretended otherwise.

The letter of Hebrews was first written to people who were losing real things for their faith: jobs, homes, standing in their community. The author doesn’t tell them it will all blow over. He tells them the truth — that sometimes faith means choosing the hard right over the easy wrong.

Most churches would rather not say that part out loud. But there’s something trustworthy about a book that refuses to sell you a version of faith with no price tag. It isn’t asking you to sign up for something and hiding the fine print.

So yes — following Jesus can cost you. The Bible says so plainly. But that’s only half the story, and it’s not the important half.

What actually makes it worth it

Here’s what Moses was really choosing — and it wasn’t a religion. It was a person, and a promise.

The center of the Christian faith is not “try harder and give up more.” It’s the opposite. The Bible says Jesus paid the highest cost first. He lived the perfect life we couldn’t, then stepped into our place and took the punishment our sin deserved — dying a criminal’s death though He had done nothing wrong. He was buried. And on the third day, God raised Him from the dead.

That changes the whole equation. You’re not paying a price to earn God’s approval. He already paid it for you. Following Him isn’t buying something — it’s responding to a gift that has already been handed to you, free and complete.

Moses gave up a palace because he could see, even dimly, that being right with God was worth more than anything Egypt could offer. He was right.

So what does this look like on a Tuesday?

For almost everyone, following Jesus doesn’t mean walking away from a palace. It means smaller, quieter choices — telling the truth when a lie would be easier, staying faithful when no one is watching, trusting God with the parts of your life you would rather control.

It also doesn’t mean God becomes a machine that hands out comfort and success in exchange for good behavior. That was never the promise. The promise is better: God Himself — a relationship with the One who made you, held together by Him, that outlasts everything you can see.

Is it worth it? The people who have actually staked their lives on it keep saying the same thing. Yes. It’s worth it.

If you’re weighing that question right now, you don’t have to settle it alone. That’s a good reason to come sit in a room with people who are asking it too.

First Baptist Church Concord meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:15 AM and worship at 10:30 AM. We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

→ Planning your first visit? Here’s what to expect.
→ Looking for community? Here’s how to meet people.
→ Ready to get involved? Here’s where you can serve.

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Faith Passes the Test

There is one thing you could not bear to lose. Not your phone, not your savings, probably not even your health. It’s the one that has a face — a spouse, a child, a grandchild, a dream you’ve poured your life into, maybe your own reputation. You knew its name the moment you read that sentence. You may have even flinched.

Abraham had one too. His name was Isaac.

He waited twenty-five years for that boy. Sarah laughed when God first made the promise, so they named him laughter when he finally came. The whole future of God’s promise was packed into one child. And then, one ordinary morning, God said: “Give him to Me.”

This is one of the hardest passages in all of Scripture — and if we read it too quickly, we miss what God is actually doing in it. This week we slowed down and sat with just three verses. Here’s what we found.

1. Belief believes, but faith works

“By faith, Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac.” The faith is at work. It’s not just believing.

Belief says, “I believe that chair can hold me up.” Faith is sitting down in it and proving it so. Even the demons believe — and tremble. So there has to be something more than belief. Faith says, “I believe what Jesus did was enough, and I’m staking my life on it. I’m not hedging my bets.”

The test is where belief becomes faith. It’s the decision to follow through, even when you don’t know how the story ends. Abraham didn’t know there would be a ram. He simply trusted, and then he acted on that trust.

2. God tests our biggest vulnerabilities

God doesn’t usually test us with the small things. It’s not the old pair of sneakers or the offering plate. He puts His hand on the one thing — the thing we’re most tempted to put in His place.

Remember the rich young ruler? Jesus didn’t ask him for a pair of sandals or ten percent. He asked for everything. And the man went away sad. Jesus always puts His hand on the one thing and says: “You’re not going to enjoy a faith walk with Me until you let Me have that one thing.”

That’s what the test is really asking: Do you love Me, or do you love what I can do for you? God isn’t being cruel. He’s purifying us — proving that our trust is in Him, not in the gift.

3. True faith pursues God’s character

Abraham “considered that God is able to raise people even from the dead.” His faith wasn’t wishful thinking. It was anchored in who God is.

  • We trust His person. Like Job said, “Naked I came, and naked I’ll return — blessed be the name of the Lord.” It’s Him we want, not just His blessings.
  • We trust His power. The same God who can raise the dead is strong enough to handle whatever He asks us to lay down.
  • We trust His promises. God intends only good for His children — even when His definition of good doesn’t match ours.

Grace for those who feel like they’re failing

Here’s the hope: faith isn’t a pass/fail exam where one stumble gets you kicked out. Think of Peter stepping onto the water. The moment he began to sink, Jesus was right there to lift him up.

The same is true for you. When you fail, God is right there to pick you up, clean you off, and set you on your feet again. The test isn’t over — but He will not let you fail.

So keep looking for the ram. And whatever happens, believe this: God is able to raise the dead. That’s where our hope rests.


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Are We Home Yet? What the Fourth of July Reminds Us About the Country That’s Coming

When my wife Myra and I were first married, I took her away from North Carolina for twenty-five years. Every time we drove back — up I-85 from Georgia or over on I-40 from Tennessee — she’d snap a picture of the same sign: Welcome to North Carolina. She loved that sign. She celebrated it.

But not once, not even one time, did she stop the car at the sign and say, “We’re here.”

Because the sign wasn’t home. The sign just said: you’re getting close to home.

That’s a good picture of where we find ourselves this Fourth of July. We’re celebrating a signpost. And a signpost is worth celebrating — as long as we don’t mistake it for the city.

A signpost worth celebrating

Let’s be clear about something. The nation we live in is a genuine blessing — not just for those of us who live in it, but for the whole world. Are we perfect? Not even close. Have we done heinous things in our history? You betcha. But God has also used this country as a blessing to others, and there are real gifts here worth naming plainly.

We’re governed by consent, not by a throne. No king owns us. No bloodline rules us.

We can worship unforced. Nobody woke you up this morning and made you come to church. We can gather any time we want, stand up, and sing praises to God — and nobody can stop us. That’s liberty. And that same liberty means we can’t force anyone to trust Christ, either; faith has to be freely given, or it isn’t faith.

This has historically been a sending nation, too. People like Adoniram Judson — who packed his family’s belongings in coffins to sail overseas — and Lottie Moon and a whole host of others carried the gospel to the ends of the earth. Because somebody here had the freedom to go, there are people all around the world today who trust Christ.

So we ought to be the most thankful people on earth. Missionaries who’ve served overseas have told me they weep walking down an American grocery aisle, overwhelmed by how much we have. Truthfully, we ought to be grateful for something as small as a box of cereal. These are all gifts. Every one of them.

The temptation of every generation

Here’s the danger. It’s the temptation of every generation: to pull the car over at the sign and say, “We’ve arrived.”

The church has done it again and again all through history — we’ve arrived, we’ve arrived, we’ve arrived. And friends, I’m just telling you: we haven’t arrived. Things aren’t perfect. Only Jesus is going to bring the peace that passes understanding. Only Jesus is going to make all things just. And that won’t happen in this world — it happens when He comes and recreates the next one.

That’s exactly what Hebrews 11 is about. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob — they all died in faith without receiving the promises, “having seen them and welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth” (Hebrews 11:13). When Abraham died, all he actually owned of the Promised Land was a grave for his wife. And yet he kept looking forward, because he understood the grave was only a signpost of the city that was coming.

So we must not confuse the signpost for the city.

The country that’s actually coming

The city that’s coming has a better King — Jesus, King of kings and Lord of lords, before whom every knee will bow. It’s a better country, where the curse is lifted and creation is fruitful again. It’s a better citizenship — nobody can vote you off, nobody checks your passport, and the only thing that matters is that you belong to Jesus. And it comes with a better inheritance: everything that belongs to the King belongs to those who are His.

Here’s what I want you to hold onto this week. No politician — blue or red — no preacher, no billionaire, is going to bring you what only Jesus can bring. Every politician who’s ever lived has broken promises. Ask yourself: is there any leader who’s kept every promise they ever made?

Jesus has.

So celebrate the blessing God has given us here in America. Thank the Lord for it. Enjoy the freedoms while we have them. But be salt and light — not for a better America, but for the promise that’s coming. (And by the way: if we’re salt and light, America will get better. It’s just not our purpose.)

Our purpose is that we’re longing for the country we’ve been promised. A better one. A heavenly one. “Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them” (Hebrews 11:16).

If you’ve never trusted Christ, you don’t have to fix your life first, and you don’t have to wait. Recognize that you’ve sinned against a holy God, and that Jesus died in your place and rose again — guaranteeing that whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. You can leave today belonging to Him.

We’re celebrating the signpost. But we’re not home yet.


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What Does It Really Mean to Walk by Faith?

“Just have faith.” Most of us have heard it — usually during the hardest stretch of life, often from someone who meant well. But it can land like a riddle. Have faith in what, exactly? And what are you actually supposed to do with it? For a word used so often, faith turns out to be surprisingly hard to pin down.

Faith Isn’t a Leap in the Dark

A lot of people picture faith as believing something for no reason at all — closing your eyes, crossing your fingers, and hoping it works out. But that’s not what the Bible describes. The faith it talks about looks much more like trusting someone with a track record.

Think about how you trust a longtime friend. You don’t demand proof before believing they’ll show up when they say they will — their history has already earned your confidence. The Bible’s version of faith works the same way: you hear what God says, you decide you believe Him, and then you adjust your life to match. Belief that never changes how you actually live isn’t really belief yet.

It Usually Looks Ordinary

The eleventh chapter of a New Testament letter called Hebrews lists out people who trusted God — and almost none of it looked dramatic in the moment. One man built a massive boat for a flood that hadn’t happened yet, while his neighbors were convinced he’d lost his mind. Another packed up his whole family and moved without knowing where he was going. A woman in her 90s laughed out loud at the promise that she’d finally have a child — and then watched it actually happen.

What ties these people together isn’t heroism. It’s that they took God at His word and let it reshape ordinary decisions. Faith rarely shows up as a single grand gesture. More often, it shows up on a normal Tuesday, in a choice nobody else even notices.

Faith Reaches Out an Empty Hand

Pastor Jim Collier described faith this way: it “extends an empty hand.” An empty hand can’t earn anything, and it can’t force anything to happen on your schedule. It simply opens up and trusts that what God puts in it will be good.

That comes with an honest catch. Trusting God doesn’t mean you’ll get everything you want. He’s promised to give what you actually need — and that isn’t always the same thing. Anyone who has looked back on a request that went unanswered, and felt quietly relieved that it did, already understands the difference. Part of faith is trusting that He sees what we can’t, and that His timing — never late, often not early — is part of the gift.

Where This Leads

At its core, the Christian faith rests on one event: that Jesus lived a perfect life, died in our place, and rose from the grave — and that anyone who turns to Him is forgiven and given a fresh start. One man we heard about this Sunday had heard that message for years and brushed it off, until near the very end of his life he finally believed it. He described the moment as a fire hose washing all the grime off his heart.

That’s the offer underneath all of it. Faith isn’t about cleaning yourself up first, or working up enough certainty to qualify. It’s hearing that God is trustworthy, and opening an empty hand to receive what only He can give. You don’t have to have it all figured out to start.

First Baptist Church Concord meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:15 AM and worship at 10:30 AM. We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

Planning your first visit? Here’s what to expect.Looking for community? Here’s how to meet people.Ready to get involved? Here’s where you can serve.


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Is Faith Just Wishful Thinking?

If you’ve ever heard someone talk about “faith” and quietly thought it sounded like wishful thinking — believing something hard enough and hoping it turns out true — you’re not alone. A lot of people assume faith means switching off your brain, ignoring reality, and forcing yourself to feel certain about things you can’t see.

That’s a fair suspicion. And it’s worth saying plainly: if faith were just that, it wouldn’t be worth much when life actually gets hard. But an old letter in the Bible called Hebrews offers a definition that’s sturdier than the cliché — and surprisingly practical.

Faith is not about how hard you believe

Here’s the first thing that trips people up. We tend to think faith is a kind of inner strength — that if you could just believe harder, things would work out. Pastor Jim Collier put it directly this past Sunday at FBC Concord: it’s never the power of your believing that matters. It’s who you’re believing in.

That’s a relief, actually. It means faith isn’t one more thing you have to be good at. A small, shaky trust placed in someone reliable is worth more than a mountain of confidence placed in nothing.

A surprising definition

Hebrews puts it this way: “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” That sounds abstract until you hear the picture Pastor Jim used.

Imagine you’ve bought a house that’s still being built. You don’t live there yet — but you hold the deed. So what do you do? You measure for curtains. You shop for appliances. You pick the spot where your favorite chair will go. You rearrange your life around something you can’t fully see yet, because you’re sure it’s coming.

That’s faith. Not pretending. Not forcing a feeling. It’s trusting a promise enough to start building your life around it.

Faith is an anchor, not a mood

There’s a second picture worth holding onto, especially if you’re in a hard season right now. Think of a ship in a storm. What keeps it from being lost isn’t the beauty of the ship or the skill of the crew. It’s a heavy anchor that digs into something solid beneath the water.

Faith works the same way. It holds you steady not because your grip is strong, but because of what it’s hooked to. When everything feels uncertain — a diagnosis, a loss, a season you didn’t choose — faith isn’t about mustering more optimism. It’s about being held by something that doesn’t move.

Where this leaves you

You don’t need impressive faith to start. One of the most honest prayers in the whole Bible is simply, “I believe — help my unbelief.” That’s a real place to begin. Faith often starts as a small, honest reach toward God, not a finished certainty.

If you’re somewhere between curiosity and doubt, that’s not a disqualification. It might be exactly where faith begins.


First Baptist Church Concord meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:15 AM and worship at 10:30 AM. We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

→ Planning your first visit? Here’s what to expect. 
→ Looking for community? Here’s how to meet people. 
→ Ready to get involved? Here’s where you can serve.

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Why Do I Never Feel Good Enough for God?

There’s a feeling a lot of people carry quietly: the sense that no matter how hard you try, you’re still coming up short. You apologize. You turn over a new leaf. You promise yourself you’ll do better. And a few days later the same guilt is back, playing like a tape on a loop.

If that’s you, an old letter in the Bible — a section called Hebrews, chapters 9 and 10 — speaks to exactly that exhaustion. And its answer is probably not what you’d expect.

Why the guilt keeps coming back

Hebrews describes an ancient system of worship where priests offered sacrifices to deal with people’s wrongdoing. The striking detail is that the work never ended. The same offerings were made over and over, every single year. The priests, the text says, never sat down — there was always more to do.

That repetition was the point. It was a built-in reminder that the problem had never actually been solved. Each year came around, and the guilt was still there.

A lot of us live with God the same way. We’re always re-earning, never resting — sure that we’re one mistake away from being on the outside again.

A word that might make you uncomfortable

If you’ve ever heard religious people talk about “the blood” and found it strange, or even disturbing, you’re not imagining things. It’s jarring language, and it’s fair to wonder why anyone would build their faith around it.

Here’s what it’s actually pointing to. In the ancient world, a sacrifice meant a life given in someone else’s place — a way of saying a real debt had been paid, not waved away. Hebrews makes a bold claim: all those repeated sacrifices were placeholders, pointing forward to one final act. Jesus gave Himself, once, completely — so that it would never have to be repeated again.

The language is heavy because what it describes is serious. It doesn’t pretend our wrongs are no big deal. It says they were dealt with, fully.

The day the work was finished

In the middle of all that, Hebrews drops a quiet but enormous line: after Jesus made His offering, He “sat down.”

Remember, the priests never sat. But Jesus sat down — because there was nothing left to add. The work was finished. Pastor Jim Collier put it simply this past Sunday at FBC Concord: “Better is here. We have all that we need.”

That’s the difference between religion as most people experience it and what the Bible actually offers. One is a treadmill. The other is a finished gift you’re invited to receive.

What “finished” means for you

So here’s the part worth sitting with. If the work is genuinely done, then your standing with God isn’t something you build from scratch every morning. You don’t have to clean yourself up before you’re allowed to come close.

It means the quiet verdict you’ve been bracing for — that God is mostly disappointed in you — isn’t the last word for anyone who comes to Him through Jesus. As Pastor Jim said, our hope was never that we’d be good enough for God. Our hope is that Jesus is good enough, “and He said, come on in. I’ll leave the light on.”

You can stop performing. You can rest.

If you still wrestle with all of this — if part of you wants to believe it but isn’t sure — that’s not a disqualification. That’s just being honest, and it’s a good place to start exploring.


First Baptist Church Concord meets every Sunday — Sunday School at 9:15 AM and worship at 10:30 AM. We’re at 200 Branchview Dr SE, Concord, NC 28025, and we’d love to meet you.

→ Planning your first visit? Here’s what to expect.
→ Looking for community? Here’s how to meet people.
→ Ready to get involved? Here’s where you can serve.

Read more...