by Pastor Scott
Hey there, friends. can we talk for just a minute, you and me, and explore something heavy on my heart? It’s this thing I’m calling jaded faith—that worn-out, beat-up, “I’m not sure I can do this anymore” feeling that creeps in when the church, the place that’s supposed to be home, starts feeling like a stranger. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That moment when you look around and think, This isn’t what I signed up for.
I’ve seen it in your eyes at coffee shops, heard it in your voices over late-night texts. People who love Jesus, or at least want to, but feel like the church has let them down. And not just let them down—sometimes it’s pushed them out the door. So let’s unpack this, because it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s not how it’s supposed to be.
The Church That Drives People Away
The church is supposed to be this beautiful, messy, vibrant community where we wrestle with life together, where we find God in the middle of our doubts and dreams. But sometimes, it’s not that at all. Sometimes it’s a place where questions get shushed, where pain gets a pat on the head and a “just pray harder,” where the hard edges of life are sanded down to fit a tidy Sunday sermon. And that, friends, is when people start walking away.
I’ve talked to folks who’ve been burned by churches that cared more about their image than their hearts. Churches that preached “love your neighbor” but turned a blind eye to injustice. Churches that promised answers but dodged the questions. And let’s be honest—sometimes it’s not even the big stuff. It’s the slow drip of feeling unseen, unheard, or like you have to fake it to fit in. That’s when faith starts to jade, starts to fray at the edges, when the spark that once lit you up starts to flicker.
The Bible doesn’t shy away from this. In Matthew 23:27, Jesus calls out the religious leaders of his day, saying they’re like “whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead.” Ouch. That’s Jesus saying, Stop pretending. Stop polishing the surface when the inside is rotting. The church isn’t supposed to be a performance—it’s supposed to be a place where we meet God in the real. Where we drop all of our false pretenses and showy expressions and just – be. Why do we wear masks sometimes in church and pretend everything is alright when inside we are far from okay?!
The Hunger for Authentic Faith
So what do we do with this? If the church has let us down, if our faith feels jaded, where do we go? I think it starts with admitting we’re hungry. Hungry for a faith that doesn’t flinch at the hard questions. Hungry for a God who’s big enough to handle our doubts, our fears, our why is the world like this? cries in the dark.
Think about Job. (I don’t know why I always seem to come back to this guy) But this guy lost everything—his family, his wealth, his health—and he didn’t just sit there quoting platitudes. He yelled at God. He demanded answers. In Job 38, when God finally speaks, He doesn’t give Job a neat little PowerPoint on why suffering happens. He shows up in a whirlwind, reminding Job that He’s God, that He’s vast, that He’s holding the universe together. And somehow, that’s enough for Job. Not because he got answers, but because he got God. Sometimes faith – real faith has to leap and find contentment in knowing that we won’t always have the answers figured out.
That’s what we’re craving, isn’t it? A faith that’s real enough to ask, Why does this hurt so much? Where are you, God? A faith that doesn’t need to tie everything up with a bow but trusts that God is there, even in the mess. Psalm 42:11 captures it so well: “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” It’s not denying the pain—it’s choosing to hope anyway.
The Danger of False Teachings
But here’s where it gets tricky. When people are hungry, they’ll eat anything. And there are voices out there—preachers, influencers, feel-good gurus—who know exactly how to serve up a meal that tastes good but leaves you empty. It’s like eating desert when your body requires a whole meal – but we’re just consuming empty calories instead. They’re the ones promising health, wealth, and happiness if you just believe hard enough, pray loud enough, give enough. They’re selling a faith that’s all flowers and no roots. All sugar but no substance.
Paul saw this coming. In 2 Timothy 4:3, he writes, “For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.” That’s a warning, friends. When we’re jaded, when we’re hurting, it’s so easy to fall for the flowery stuff—the sermons that make us feel warm and fuzzy but never challenge us to grow, to wrestle, to change.
False teachings aren’t always obvious. Sometimes they’re wrapped in Christian lingo, delivered with a smile. But if it’s pointing you to anything other than Jesus—if it’s promising you a life free of struggle or a God who’s just a cosmic vending machine—it’s not the real deal. Jesus himself said in John 16:33, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” He didn’t promise a trouble-free life; He promised His presence through it.
A Church That Welcomes the Real
So what’s the antidote? How do we rebuild a faith that’s not jaded, a church that doesn’t drive people away? I think it starts with being real. Real with each other, real with God. It means creating spaces where questions are welcome, where doubts aren’t a sin, where we can say, I’m struggling, and someone says, Me too. Let’s walk through it together.
It means preaching a Gospel that’s not just about getting to heaven but about living with Jesus here and now. It means tackling the hard stuff—poverty, injustice, mental health, the why behind the pain—and trusting that God’s big enough to meet us there. It means admitting when we’ve gotten it wrong, when we’ve been more about rules than relationships, more about programs than people.
Hebrews 10:24-25 gives us a blueprint: “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another.” That’s the church I want to be part of. That’s the church I want to be. A church that spurs each other on, that doesn’t give up on community, that encourages each other to keep going, keep asking, keep seeking.
Let’s Keep It Real
So, friends, if your faith feels jaded, if the church has let you down, I’m sorry. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. But don’t give up. There’s a God who sees you, who loves you, who’s not afraid of your questions or your pain. And there are people out there—maybe not perfect, but real—who want to walk this road with you.
Let’s be a church that’s honest about the hard stuff, that points to Jesus instead of empty promises, that says, Come as you are, doubts and all. Let’s ask the big questions, wrestle with the answers, and trust that God’s holding us through it all. Because that’s the kind of faith that doesn’t just survive—it thrives.
What do you think? What’s jading your faith right now? And what would a real, authentic church look like for you? Let’s talk about it.
Pastor Scott

1 Admit to the wrongs
3 Seek Reconciliation:



