Vision Sunday

I’ve never really been one to pick a “word for the year” or build my life around a calendar theme. But many months ago, there was a phrase God placed on my heart that I couldn’t shake. It stuck with me—and I believe it points to where God is leading us as a church in 2026.

Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no prophetic vision, the people are unrestrained” (ESV).

That word unrestrained is powerful. In the original Hebrew, it carries the idea of something becoming unbraided—like hair that once had order, structure, and protection, now coming undone. Without vision, things unravel. People drift. Clarity fades. Momentum is lost.

We need vision—both personally and corporately. And as a growing, healthy church, if we’re going to step into what God has for us next, we need His prophetic direction guiding us forward.

The phrase God gave me for this season is simple, but challenging:

Uncomfortable Christianity.

God never saved us for our comfort. He saved us for transformation.

Last year, while teaching our daughter Emma how to skate, I had a moment of clarity. She was confident walking around in skates on the padded locker-room floor. But the moment she stepped onto the ice, everything changed. She tried to walk on ice the same way she walked on rubber flooring—and it didn’t work.

She wanted to go back to her shoes. What she didn’t yet understand was that skates aren’t designed for walking—they’re designed for gliding. The discomfort wasn’t a sign something was wrong; it was proof she was learning a new terrain.

That’s exactly where many Christians find themselves. We’re trying to walk into a new season wearing old footwear—old habits, old thinking, old comforts—and we’re frustrated because nothing feels stable anymore.

Ephesians 4:22–24 puts it plainly: “Throw off your old sinful nature… let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature.”

God is saying, “I’ve got new skates for you—but you can’t bring the old you into the new place.” What worked in a previous season won’t always work in the next. New terrain requires new rhythms.

Jesus never promised comfort—He promised life. And the pathway to that life runs straight through the cross.

In Luke 9, Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily.” That wasn’t metaphorical to His original audience. The cross was an instrument of death. In other words: you can’t cling to comfort and carry a cross at the same time.

Comfort says, “Protect yourself.”
The cross says, “Deny yourself.”

Comfort says, “Choose the easy way.”
The cross says, “Choose obedience.”

Yet it’s the cross that anchors us in a shifting world. It’s the cross that sanctifies us. And thank God Jesus didn’t cling to comfort—He embraced the cross for our freedom.

Following Jesus means counting the cost upfront. Sin never does that. In my years as a paramedic, I met countless people at rock bottom who never imagined the price their choices would demand. Sin hides the receipt. Jesus doesn’t.

That’s why He calls us to full surrender—not a “pay-as-you-go” faith, but an all-in commitment. As Paul wrote, “I have been crucified with Christ… and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God” (Galatians 2:20).

Crucifixion isn’t comfortable—but resurrection power lives on the other side of it.

Breakthrough always does. Peter didn’t walk on water until he stepped out of the boat. Joshua didn’t see the Jordan part until his feet touched it. Obedience that stretches us is often the doorway to everything God wants to do in us—and through us.

That’s why this year is a call to uncomfortable Christianity: radical obedience, full surrender, bold faith, and pressing into spiritual disciplines like prayer and fasting—not because they’re easy, but because they change us.

God has new terrain ahead. And it’s time to put on the skates.