Baby Girl, We Might Need to Re-Read the Red Letters

We might need to re-read the red letters.
Not because Jesus has changed—but because somewhere along the way, we started paying more attention to people than to Him.

In my formative years, I must confess, I had a love–hate relationship with the church. In my family, not going to church—during the week and on Sundays—was not an option. I can’t recall if giving our lives to Christ was ever part of the criteria, but I do know this: our physical bodies had to be planted on those pews whenever the doors were open.

I suppose the hope was that if we sat there long enough, we’d catch a clue about Jesus just by being there.

But I was—and still am—an avid reader. And I genuinely loved the stories of the Bible. So I spent countless hours reading the Scriptures for myself- so much so that my siblings jokingly called me “holy roller.” And wouldn’t you know it—the more I read, the more those words began to change how I thought, how I saw people, and how I understood faith.

That’s when I started noticing something.

What I was reading in the red letters—and what I was watching in real life—didn’t always line up.

What I read spoke of humility, mercy, forgiveness, and love. What I often observed was impatience, division, and a quiet resentment that lingered in the pews. And asking questions wasn’t really an option. Curiosity was corrected. I learned quickly that questions were met with rebuke, usually wrapped in the phrase, “Stay in your place.”

So I stayed quiet—but I didn’t stop reading.

And that may have been the grace of it all. Because even when people shut down the conversation, the Scriptures kept speaking. They continued to shape me, challenge me, and quietly plant the understanding that faith was meant to be lived—not just inherited or enforced.

Years later, I would understand this more clearly: many people have been deeply disillusioned by those who loudly proclaim they are Christians. I understand that too. Somewhere along the way, we stopped reading the words of Christ and started reading people instead.

That shift matters more than we realize.

I have met many people who flat-out refuse to attend church anymore. They are triggered by the seeming hypocrisy of church folk. I get it. I hear you. I won’t leave because people are still being transformed slowly, imperfectly, and sometimes painfully. I won’t leave because hearts are still under construction. Remember—we are all a work in progress.

But baby, let me tell you something—I will leave a church in a heartbeat if Scripture is being twisted.

Jesus was sent to forgive us of our very human sins—every one of them. But forgiveness was never the finish line; it was the doorway. We were meant to be transformed by His teachings—how He loved, how He corrected, how He served, and how He forgave, even when it cost Him everything.

“Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.”- James 1:22

Somewhere along the road, we began measuring Christianity by behavior instead of by Christ.

People will disappoint you. Churches will disappoint you. Leaders will disappoint you. If your faith is anchored to people, it will always be fragile. People are flawed, inconsistent, and still very much under construction—myself included.

But Jesus remains unchanged.

I don’t care who acts a certain way or who fails to live up to the label they wear. My eyes are not on them. My eyes are on Jesus and His teachings—the red letters and the example that never wavers. He is not a distant historical figure to me. He is as real as the nose on my face—present in grief, steady in joy, faithful in the quiet moments when no one else is watching.

He is still worth following.

I know we all desire community—to feel connection, belonging, and relationship within the church. That’s natural. But community should never be the plumb line for why we attend a church.

When it becomes the main reason, that’s your flashing red light.

Stop
Pause.
Realign your thinking.

Instead, look first for this: Does the teaching line up with Scripture? Does it point you back to the words of Jesus, or does it bend to fit culture, comfort, or consensus?

Because when the foundation is right, everything else eventually falls into place. Genuine community. Meaningful relationships. Shared purpose. Those things grow best when truth is rooted deeply beneath them.

Scripture reminds us of the proper order:

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.”
Acts 2:42

Notice the order. Teaching came first. Fellowship followed.

Some say, “Christians give Christ a bad name.” But the truth is, we don’t give Christ a bad name—we give ourselves a different one: hypocrite. We say one thing and then put on masks, acting like someone entirely different when it costs us nothing and no one is watching.

So many people long to hear the words, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” But that raises honest questions we don’t ask often enough. Were we good? Were we faithful—not just in name, but in practice? Were we faithful to His teachings, or merely familiar with them?

Did we allow His words to truly transform us, so much so that others could say, “We know they have been with Jesus”—not because of what we claimed, but because of how we loved, spoke, and lived?

I was taught that we are known by the company we keep. And yet somewhere along the way, we allowed the culture of this world to rub off on us more than the words of Christ. We absorbed opinions, outrage, and attitudes with ease, while leaving His teachings quoted—but not practiced.

There is a Scripture that warns us plainly: “Broad is the road that leads to destruction.” The broad road looks easier. It’s crowded. It’s popular. It requires very little resistance and even less courage.

The narrow road, on the other hand, is quieter. Fewer voices. Fewer affirmations. It doesn’t trend well, and it doesn’t blend in. Yet Jesus tells us plainly that this is the road that leads to life.

So many are encouraged to “get on board” with whatever the culture is promoting—to adjust, soften, reinterpret, and stay relevant. But following Jesus has never been about convenience or popularity. The narrow road was never meant to be easy; it was meant to be faithful.

The broad road asks only that we agree.
The narrow road asks that we surrender.

And surrender is costly.

We think that wearing crosses will be enough. But do we really have a right to wear a cross if we have not crucified our selfish desires—our pride, our need to be right, our comfort, our appetite for approval?

The cross was never meant to be an accessory.
It was always an invitation.

An invitation to die to self.
An invitation to be changed.
An invitation to follow Him all the way.

So maybe—every now and then—we all need to pause and re-read the red letters.

Not to see what everyone else is doing wrong, but to realign our own hearts. Not to measure people, churches, or movements—but to measure ourselves against the words of Jesus.

Because when things feel off, when faith feels heavy, and when disappointment creeps in, the problem is never Him.

It’s that we’ve been watching people too closely and listening to Jesus too little.

If you don’t mind a little advice from Mama Wisdom: When what you see doesn’t match what you’ve been taught, go back to the source. Sit with His words again. Let them correct you, soften you, and steady you.

The red letters still say what they’ve always said.
And they still lead where they’ve always led.

Back to Him.