Tag: Cameron Fry

When the Church Looks Less Like Jesus

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A call to remember who the Church belongs to—and what the world should see in us.

The Church Belongs to Jesus

What should people encounter when they encounter the Church?

Should they leave impressed by our excellence? Inspired by our music? Encouraged by our preaching? Or should they leave saying, “I caught a glimpse of Jesus.”

That question matters because the Church belongs to Him. She is not ours to redefine, market, or mold according to the preferences of any generation. Scripture describes her as the Body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:27), the household of God (Ephesians 2:19), and the Bride for whom Christ willingly laid down His life (Ephesians 5:25–27).

If she belongs to Christ, every generation must ask one simple question: Are we becoming more like Jesus? Not more successful. Not more influential. Not more visible. More like Jesus.

To look like Him is to love what He loves, serve as He served, welcome as He welcomed, and make disciples as He commanded. Everything else flows from that.

A Shared Life, Not a Weekly Event

The New Testament presents a compelling vision of the Church. Believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer (Acts 2:42). They shared with those in need (Acts 2:44–45), bore one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), rejected favoritism (James 2:1–9), practiced hospitality (1 Peter 4:9), and became known by their love (John 13:34–35).

This was not simply a worship service. It was a shared life. They did not merely attend together. They belonged to one another.

The early Church was not perfect. Acts and the New Testament letters reveal conflict, sin, and correction. Yet they also reveal a people willing to repent and reorder their lives around Christ. That picture should challenge us: Have we unintentionally settled for something smaller than what Scripture describes?

When Activity Replaces Faithfulness

The modern Church has become remarkably effective at gathering people. We organize ministries, communicate vision, create excellent environments, and steward resources wisely. Those things can honor God. But excellence must never replace obedience.

  • Programs cannot replace people.
  • Production cannot replace presence.
  • Attendance cannot replace discipleship.

Methods are servants. They must never become masters.

One temptation facing the Western Church is to mistake activity for faithfulness. The question is whether our methods have quietly become our measurements of success. Jesus did not commission His followers to build impressive institutions; He commanded them to make disciples (Matthew 28:19–20). Paul wrote, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:6).

Faithfulness belongs to us. Growth belongs to God.

Christ gave leaders to the Church “to equip the saints for the work of ministry” until the whole body matures in Him (Ephesians 4:11–16). Healthy ministry is measured by whether God’s people are becoming more like Jesus together.

The earliest believers did not simply invite people to a gathering. They carried the life of Christ wherever they went. Their worship overflowed into hospitality, their teaching into discipleship, their fellowship into generosity, and their prayers into courageous witness.

Returning to Our First Love

Churches do not drift overnight. Neither do believers. Even the church in Ephesus—commended for perseverance and discernment—heard these sobering words from Jesus: “You have abandoned the love you had at first” (Revelation 2:4). Their greatest problem was not incompetence. It was misplaced affection.

That warning still echoes. We can become more competent while becoming less dependent upon God, more organized while becoming less compassionate, and more influential while becoming less Christlike.

The greatest threat to the Church has rarely been opposition from the outside. More often, it has been gradual drift from the inside.

Sent Belong the Walls

Outreach has not disappeared from the Church. Countless congregations faithfully serve their communities in ways that honor Christ. Yet we should ask whether outreach has slowly moved from being part of the Church’s identity to becoming one ministry among many.

The ministries hardest to promote are often the ministries Scripture emphasizes most: visiting the sick, welcoming the stranger, caring for widows and orphans, bearing burdens, opening our homes, and serving without recognition (James 1:27; Matthew 25:34–40; Galatians 6:2). These acts rarely generate headlines, fill auditoriums, or build anyone’s platform. But they look remarkably like Jesus.

The Church was never called merely to invite people into a building. She was called to carry the presence of Christ into the world.

More Than Consumers

Perhaps nowhere is self-examination more necessary than in the way we approach gathering together. We ask: Did I enjoy the worship? Did the sermon encourage me? Did I feel fed today?

Those are not wrong questions. They are incomplete.

The New Testament invites us to ask another set of questions: Whom did I encourage? Whose burden did I help carry? Who experienced the love of Christ through me? Who did I welcome, forgive, or serve?

Church was never intended to function like a spiritual gas station where we stop once a week to refill before returning to life unchanged. If we leave our gatherings knowing more about Christ but looking no more like Him, we have misunderstood the purpose of gathering.

Worship that truly encounters God does not terminate on itself. It overflows into love, service, mercy, justice, humility, forgiveness, generosity, and sacrificial care.

Hungry Without Agenda

The same examination applies to every gift within the Church. Whether someone teaches, preaches, writes, leads worship, or serves behind the scenes, every ability entrusted by God exists to make much of Christ. Whenever a gift begins drawing attention primarily to the person using it, we have drifted from its purpose.

The platform has never been the center of worship. Christ is.

I believe believers across the world are quietly praying for communities simply hungry for Christ—without agenda, without platform-building, without chasing influence for its own sake. Communities whose greatest ambition is to know Christ and make Him known. Where people serve because they love, give because they have received grace, worship because God is worthy, and gather because they genuinely belong to one another.

Those communities may never become famous. But heaven has never measured faithfulness by fame. The Church has never needed more influence than faithfulness. She has only ever needed more of Christ.

Call Back to Christ

The prophet Micah summarized God’s desire with remarkable simplicity:

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

Perhaps the Church today needs that reminder as much as any generation before us. This is not a call to abandon Christ’s Bride. It is a call to love her enough to invite her continually back to her first love.

The answer to an imperfect Church has never been abandoning her. The answer has always been allowing Christ to continue sanctifying her—including us.

May we have the humility to examine ourselves before we examine others. May we have the courage to repent wherever we have drifted. May we become people hungry for Christ without agenda—content to decrease so that He might increase.

And until the day we finally see our Savior face to face, may the watching world first catch a glimpse of Him in us.

For that has always been the Church’s greatest witness.

Graphics created in ChatGPT

Halftime: Reflections on 2026 and the Road Ahead

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Halftime thoughts.

Every year around the year’s midpoint, I find myself pausing long enough to evaluate where God has brought me and where He’s still leading me.

The first half of the year—especially these past three months—has been marked by much-needed growth, course correction, new opportunities, and genuine healing. Not the kind of healing that arrives overnight, but the kind you only recognize when you look over your shoulder and realize the arrow is finally pointing upward again. I’m grateful for that.

Much of this progress has come through a combination of what God has been asking me to lay down and what He has been faithfully replacing it with. As Paul reminds us, God’s grace is made perfect in weakness, not because weakness is desirable, but because it becomes the stage upon which His strength is displayed (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

That doesn’t mean grief has disappeared.

In many ways, I still consider “the griever” because I am one. I remain a recovering bereaved parent learning how to faithfully navigate a world that often doesn’t know how to care for those carrying profound loss. Scripture tells us to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), yet many people simply have never learned what that looks like in practice. They don’t intentionally neglect grieving people; they’re simply unequipped to enter pain they have never personally experienced.

For a grieving person, being understood carries tremendous emotional and relational value. As months and years pass, silence can begin to feel like abandonment. Invitations become fewer. Conversations become shorter. Friends move on with life while your world still feels permanently altered. Somewhere in the recesses of our minds, we begin wondering whether the relationship was ever as strong as we believed. Sometimes that conclusion is accurate. More often, it is simply the grief interpreting silence through wounded eyes.

One of the greatest lessons God has been teaching me is that misunderstanding does not automatically equal malice. Sometimes people aren’t withdrawing because they’ve stopped caring. They withdraw because they don’t know how to care. They fear saying the wrong thing, so they say nothing at all. Ironically, that silence often becomes the very thing that wounds us most.

Looking back, I believe one of the deepest forms of forgiveness is releasing people from the offense of misunderstanding you. Some of the harshest words ever spoken to me occurred during seasons when my autistic mind couldn’t fully process my own weakness while simultaneously navigating profound grief. There were moments when neither side truly understood the other. My pain was misunderstood, and their limitations were equally misunderstood by me.

The reality is that ignorance is unavoidable. If we’re living life together—raising families, serving in churches, investing in friendships—we’re all going to have moments of poor execution. We’ll say the wrong thing. We’ll say nothing. We’ll miss opportunities to show up. None of us perfectly reflects the compassion of Christ every single day. That’s why Paul exhorts believers to “bear with one another and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you” (Colossians 3:13).

I’ve come to believe that grief matures our understanding of care faster than almost anything else. By the time someone has walked through profound suffering, they’ve learned that presence often matters more than words, consistency matters more than grand gestures, and quiet companionship often ministers more deeply than carefully crafted advice. Our expectations of others naturally rise because our own understanding of compassion has deepened.

But this is where humility must temper wisdom.

Most people haven’t walked through the valleys we’ve walked through. Their capacity to care exists within the boundaries of their own experiences. They aren’t necessarily uncaring; they’re simply still growing. Just as we hope others will extend grace toward grief they cannot fully comprehend, grieving people must also extend grace toward those who are still maturing in their understanding of compassion.

That realization has changed how I read 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. Paul describes God as “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble.” The comfort God gives us isn’t intended to terminate with us. It becomes the pattern through which we learn to comfort others. Sometimes that also means remembering that not everyone has yet received the same lessons suffering has taught us.

At the same time, grief cannot become an entitlement card. It cannot become permission to remain bitter toward a world that no longer understands us. Nor can it become an excuse to avoid relationships and settings simply because awkward conversations might happen. Bitterness feels protective, but it slowly becomes another prison. Scripture repeatedly calls us toward forgiveness, not because every offense is small, but because Christ has forgiven infinitely greater debts within us (Matthew 18:21-22; Ephesians 4:32).

Some people genuinely have abandoned you. Others have failed you. Some will never apologize. Some may never even recognize the hurt they caused. Those realities are painful, but they are not outside God’s ability to redeem. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). He sees every lonely moment that no one else noticed.

So let God deal with the abandoner and embrace the call to pray for them.

Release the hurt you’ve carried through the valleys and shadows. Don’t allow grief to collect resentment until bitterness disguises itself as conviction. That burden was never yours to carry forever.

If you’re faithfully pressing into Christ day after day, He will gradually give you the strength to surrender every source of hurt into His hands. Forgiveness rarely begins with strength; it begins with surrender. We forgive because we’ve first been forgiven. We extend grace because we’ve first received grace. And we continue moving forward because nothing—not grief, misunderstanding, abandonment, nor even death itself—can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39).

Perhaps that is one of healing’s greatest milestones. Not when grief disappears, because it won’t this side of eternity, but when forgiveness quietly becomes greater than offense, hope becomes stronger than despair, and the arrow—by the grace of God—continues pointing upward.

Cover graphic creds: ChatGPT

Road to Closure: A Fond Farewell to Centennial

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I’m strolling this corridor at Tristar Centennial, a place I never thought I’d see or walk again. Yesterday’s arrival of Jori Grace, our Little Bag Fry, our second rainbow, reminding us that the surprises of God, regardless of how we initially interpret them, are nevertheless extensions of His faithfulness. 

Unbeknownst to Lys and I coming into Jori’s birthday was the fact she would arrive the exact place in the same room where Jubilee debuted.

December 17, 2025

August 21, 2021

As you might suspect, this entrance was deeply and multi-emotional. Practically impossible to not think where things were four years ago. So much has changed, so much has progressed, so much new, so much next. 

As I’ve considered the time warp, I’ve latched onto a single word that has a precedence of peace. That word is ‘closure’. 

What does the Bible say about closure, closed loops, closing the gap, etc.? 

When we talk about closure, we’re often discussing what it means to find God’s grace and strength to endure, to discover His power in the context of forgiveness, perseverance, receiving help, ultimately turning and realigning to Jesus. 

It’s a word that merits a Christian worldview, since the world frames peace and good tidings primarily as functions of comfort, self-preservation, even open doors to better opportunities. However, in Scripture, we find similar evidence in God guiding us not only through new doors but closed doors

For example, I know it’s highly likely I will never be a guest patient at Centennial again. A somber thought since Lys and I have experienced so much life here. ‘Tis been a place where we’ve always felt vertically anchored, even if we were compelled into the posture.  Understandably, there’s a bit of melancholia in this birthing episode as redemption arches, past and present, meet a local farewell. 

Still, I’m encouraging by a certain notion. Anytime new life is given, we’re not just obliged into exuberant gratitude but to commit/recommit ourselves to the call we have to nurture that life in the ways of God, in the likeness of Christ. We may not feel like we have what need to navigate the struggle we encounter, as this season reminds us, we still have Jesus, with us and for us. 

So, whether I reference scars with onsite origin or those fresh within Lys who fielded her third c-section in four years, we recognize this renewed race as part of God’s work of restoration. And as this special time of year reminds us, where there’s restoration, there can be anticipation for what is good, given the source and omni-nature of Immanuel, in loss and pain, to life as fresh gain. 

To Centennial, it’s been real to the sweetest effect. I bid you all the fondest adieu and to the rest of you…

Cover photo creds: The Business Journals

Autside Looking In: 3 Ways to Support Spectrum People at Work

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I’m blessed to serve where I work in this season. As my employer‘s name suggests, the extension of opportunity and grace has proven effective in recent years, a corporate Godsend in the sense I’ve discovered what I can offer within a healthy environment. 

That said, I’m also blessed to have worked in places where support and psychological safety were absent. Granted, those shortages came during a period when people weren’t as woke on the subject of neurodiversity as they are today.

Still, given the uptick of autism awareness in recent years, I want to examine ways employers can assist employees who are on the spectrum or struggling beyond their emotional or mental capacity. Too often, businesses will take reactive approaches to painful situations instead of proactively collaborating in humility. For what is working and what isn’t, consider this breakdown an attempt from experience to bridge the divide.

Let’s dive in… 

  1. Make Space, Show Grace

As one who is high functioning autistic, I can attest to the profound challenges—and lost potential—that come from working in environments where neurodiversity is misunderstood or undervalued. According to the Word, our individual design is not separate from our corporate identity given we are diverse in function and co-equal in value (Romans 12:4–8; 1 Corinthians 12:12–27). If we want to see our organizations thrive, we must understand this extends beyond job responsibilities to the very ways we perceive and process information.

For example, in previous roles, I was occasionally criticized for requesting additional technology, explicit communication, and extra time to process information—needs that stem from how I best contribute. At the time, I was embarrassed in the face of pushback; however, in hindsight, I recognize how advocating for these supports is not a weakness, but a strength that benefits the masses. Embracing neurodiversity requires courage from both sides. Leaders and managers have the opportunity—and the responsibility—to create inclusive environments where neurodivergent team members can excel. In turn, spectrum workers can extend patience and understanding to those who may not immediately relate. By fostering mutual respect and open dialogue, organizations can unlock innovation, loyalty, and a deeper sense of belonging for all.

  1. Withhold Premature Character Judgments 

When we examine an autistic colleague, there are certain factors to consider. For starters, many on the spectrum have heightened awareness not only to sensory stimuli but also rejection, exclusion, or just being misunderstood. Conversely, they can display diminished or skewed responses to social cues and nonverbal forms of communication, such as body language, facial expressions, even social media tact. In certain instances, an acute reaction may result when an autistic worker struggles to find words, senses a lack of psychological safety, and/or discerns discrimination. To the allistic eye, an autistic co-worker may be considered immature, irrational, emotional, or even complicated; however, in reality and within our behavior assessment, the truth is often beneath the surface of perception.

Regardless of our role, we must be slow to judge, if at all. While some mannerisms can seem confusing, the best move in general is to merge authority and/or care with curiosity before delegating constructive criticism. Rather than rebuke an accommodation, seek to understand its necessity. Don’t chastise an essential need when it might contradict your desire for conformity. Instead, assess workplace practices that can be unique and specific to each team member. In doing this, you’ll enhance a sense of security within your organization and decrease the odds of false labeling, treatment imbalances, and premature character judgments. 

  1. Nurture Their Strengths

Whatever you make of the spectrum, one thing is for sure: It is significantly broader and more complex than we think. As new information emerges, more people are discovering their place on neurodivergent planes. For those like me who didn’t discover their autism until adulthood, this can be quite the wake-up call. Yet, when we consider the big picture, we can find peace knowing once a diagnosis is confirmed and accepted, one can better understand how the difference between allistic and autistic is not to be compartmentalized but utilized!

For instance, most agree that autistic people tend to exhibit unconventional ways of perceiving instruction and execution. Some take directives down to the letter; others allot for creative interpretation. While understanding the behaviors, patterns, and preferences of autistic workers may be challenging at times, we must remember there’s value in not only acknowledging strengths and accommodations but nurturing them! For those in leadership, know your profiles, validate special needs, and as needed, receive and calibrate them to company policy without bias. Even though your supporting autistic colleague may talk differently and process more visually, you can still reel in their thoughts and fine-tune their priorities with precision. Be empowered, not discouraged in those moments.

Of course, in all this, taking the time to know the person you’re pouring into is key. On some days, you’ll find a ‘hands off’ approach is best; on other days, you’ll note a direct angle into constructive moments is more ideal. Regardless of the situation, bear in mind an autistic person benefits from stimuli conducive to their focus and security. Why not use your voice and support to be part of what they need to find safety and success in their role?

Now, I turn the podium over to you. What do you think about this topic? What other points would you add to this list? Do you have experience on either end of the spectrum? If so, I encourage you to share your thoughts. In the spirit of building one another up (Ephesians 4:11-16), Lys and I are here as always if you need us. 

God speed and as I always say in closing…

Cover graphic creds: Substack

Fall Forward: A Posture for This Season

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It’s been a weird month. One of those in which much could be said but…

For Lys and I, we’re exiting a pronounced stretch of remembrance. By now, each year feels more like clockwork with a grief uptick during the dog days only to lift by the fall equinox. Even now, I sense the heaviness dissipating. Lord knows He’s given me and my family plenty of reason to keep going.

Yet, taking a corporate temperature, I can’t help but wonder if our present peace is set to stun mode. Restless nights have picked up for some, for others, the fatigue of the unknown (i.e. what to do next, how to respond now, etc.). Of course, there are those, who may be weary with their former toil. Probably a combination of ‘all of the above’, if we’re perfectly honest.

I know for me, there’s been much I’ve needed to release of late – the weight of carrying past positives into the present, the hope of connection and reconciliation in certain situations, the right for my right calls to be seen. Sometimes, it’s hard to make sense of the burdens we desperately want to flush out. Thankfully, as complex as our knots may be, the opportunity to surrender them is anything but.

Take last Tuesday for instance. Sitting on my front step, I started to go down a familiar rabbit hole, the one in which I try to make sense of where I’ve been and where I’m going. But unlike other episodes, I hit a point of exhale earlier in the process. Maybe it was the lower humidity and refreshing air mass. Perhaps I was giddy from just setting up some fall decor. Either way, I looked down the street from my porch on a hill and with what seemed like misplaced contentment, started to empty myself in the moment.

Then, after a few minutes, something bizarre happened: I began to shiver…in 75 degrees, calm winds, and a setting sun to my right. Suddenly, I needed a second layer and a flip to 1 Corinthians 2. With disrupted thermodynamics, I dug in.

In his letter, Paul confirms his posture in v. 2-3 (AMP):

“I made the decision to know nothing [to forego philosophical or theological discussions regarding inconsequential things and opinions while] among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified [and the meaning of His redemptive, substitutionary death and His resurrection]. I came to you in weakness, fear, and great trembling. And my message…[was] not in persuasive words of clever rhetoric but delivered in demonstration of the Spirit operating through me and of His power stirring the minds…so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.”

Relating and resonating, I kept on.

“For what person knows the thoughts and motives of a man except the man’s spirit within him? So also no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know and understand the wonderful things freely given to us by God. We also speak of these things, not in words taught or supplied by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining and interpreting spiritual thoughts with spiritual words for those being guided by the Holy Spirit” (v. 11-13, AMP).

Now, I’m not the savviest theologian; however, I’m confident when in doubt, in trouble, and/or in pain, the best response is to invite God in by making room for the Cross. In doing this, we position ourselves to be overwhelmed by the power of the Spirit, a move we cannot conjure or manufacture. Far too often, we’re consumed by our own capacities when we must remember there’s no capacity for what matters without the Spirit. We may crave daily bread, but we cannot receive it without pure vertical reliance in which we declare our substitutions, replacing worldly guesses and opinions with God’s Word. Every day, we must be mindful of the exchanges we’re called to make, especially if we long to process through clear channels; hence, why this chapter is so enriching. By God’s Spirit, the depth we were designed with has access, not just a channel but an invitation to know what He’s thinking, at least bits and pieces.

My encouragement to you, friends: Let the Spirit bridge the Cross’ wake to your present circumstances and fall forward. As challenging as your immediate may be, simplicity can still be found in moments of surrender. For in the power of God’s Spirit, we can know Christ and Christ crucified more intimately as we breathe, live, move, and have our being (Acts 17:28). The more we mature in this mindset, the more we will experience this as a sweet reality from our personal walks to corporate communions.

As for what keeps us from standing together, praying with/for one another, and sharing with one another, may we be willing to put them all on the altar as we lay down our dreams, agendas, weapons, all the way down to our revisionist fantasies. In all that we do, may we embrace and rediscover the joy of holy dependency.

After all, a new season dawns. May it be one in which we let go and let God all the more.

Graphic creds: Shutterstock