I truly believe we’re sitting in the middle of a world that is completely out of control. Chaos isn’t just happening somewhere else—it’s everywhere. It’s in our neighborhoods, our schools, our workplaces, our governments, and yes, even in our churches. The world is shaking. Things are being exposed. Everything feels like it’s on the edge of collapse, and I honestly believe it’s a sign that the return of the Lord is near.
Everywhere I look, I see confusion. People don’t know who to trust anymore. Friends are turning on friends. Families are breaking apart. Governments are corrupt. And worse yet, even the places where people used to find safety—like the Church—don’t always feel safe anymore. What used to be sacred now feels commercialized. What was once holy now seems compromised.
And it makes me ask a hard question: Has the Church turned its back on its own people?
I’m not saying this lightly. I know how serious that question is. But it’s one we need to ask. The Church is made up of people—people who say they love God, who worship together, who serve together, who preach the Word. But when people inside the Church are struggling, hurting, lost, or looking for guidance—who is really stepping up? Are we truly living like the Body of Christ? Or have we gotten so caught up in routine, structure, and image that we’ve forgotten our purpose?
There are so many people who attend church week after week. They volunteer, they serve, they tithe. Some even work for the church full-time. But let me ask you this: how many of those same people are willing to truly step into someone’s life and walk with them through the storm? How many are willing to get uncomfortable, to sacrifice time and energy, to actually be there for someone—not just on Sunday morning, but throughout the week?
The truth is, the world is broken. We see it. We feel it. And the division that’s plaguing society is starting to creep into the Church. That should never happen. The Church was meant to be a place of unity, a reflection of heaven here on earth. Yet what we’re seeing instead is cliques, politics, favoritism, and judgment.
God doesn’t divide us. He never has. He doesn’t rank people. He doesn’t play favorites. The Bible says, “God shows no partiality.” But unfortunately, Christians sometimes do. If someone doesn’t look like us, talk like us, dress like us, or believe every single thing we believe, they get cast aside. They’re ignored. They’re judged. They’re pushed out instead of pulled in.
And that’s tragic. That’s not the heart of Jesus.
You know, I’ve seen it myself. You walk into a church seeking guidance, maybe even desperate for help, and you’re told that you can’t talk to the pastor. You’re told he’s too busy or that you have to go through multiple people to even get a response. It’s like trying to meet the president—you have to jump through hoops, fill out forms, talk to assistants, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get five minutes of their time.
I understand that pastors have a lot on their plates. They carry the weight of a congregation. They’re pulled in a hundred different directions. But at the same time, we have to ask: What happens to the one soul who walks through those church doors searching for truth, looking for hope, and is told, ‘Sorry, he’s unavailable’? What if the very answers they’re seeking are locked behind a wall of “busyness”? What message does that send?
It makes people feel unimportant. Invisible. Unworthy. And that’s the opposite of how Jesus treated people.
Jesus stopped for the one. He sat with the broken. He touched the outcast. He answered the tough questions. He didn’t hide behind a title or a schedule—He lived among the people, and He loved them deeply. If we’re going to call ourselves the Church, shouldn’t we be doing the same?
Then there’s the rise of mega churches. Now, I’m not here to attack every large congregation. But I do believe some of these institutions have lost sight of the gospel. They’ve become more about branding than the Bible. More about lights and performances than prayer and repentance. It breaks my heart, because I truly believe that many of these churches are not leading people to Christ—they’re leading them into deception.
In my opinion, some of these churches aren’t churches at all—they’re businesses. And the enemy is perfectly fine with that. He loves when we get caught up in appearances and forget about authenticity. He doesn’t mind if a church is full, as long as the people inside are spiritually empty.
And this is where the danger lies. The Bible says, “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.” So many are perishing—not because they aren’t seeking God—but because they’re being fed a watered-down, sugar-coated version of the truth. And when hard times hit, when the real battles come, they’re not rooted deep enough to stand. They don’t know how to fight spiritually, because they’ve never been taught.
It’s a sobering thought. Imagine the judgment day—when thousands stand before the Lord thinking they were following Him, only to hear, “Depart from Me, I never knew you.” Why? Because they were never truly taught the truth. They followed the show instead of the Savior.
The world has changed. It’s not changing—it’s already changed. We are in the final chapters. The signs are all around us. Scripture is being fulfilled right before our eyes. So the question is: What are we going to do about it?
We can’t afford to stay silent. We can’t afford to be lukewarm. We can’t afford to play Church while people are dying without Christ. This is the time to rise up, to repent, to return to the heart of God. The Church needs to stop trying to fit in with the world and start standing out. We need to be bold, to speak truth, to love deeply, and to act with urgency.
Let’s return to the basics: prayer, fasting, fellowship, the Word. Let’s stop treating people like projects and start treating them like brothers and sisters. Let’s make our pastors more approachable. Let’s tear down the walls of pride and tradition and build bridges of love and restoration.
Because the truth is this: the Church is the last hope for a dying world. But if the Church is asleep, who will sound the alarm?
So I’ll ask again—what are we going to do about it?
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