If you’ve known me long enough, you’ve heard me speak of a great Bible teacher named Sue Wiatt. She wrote a book of poetry and prayers and often said, “Hurry is a sin and worry is a sin!” I love the following piece she wrote about 30 years ago. It is still so pertinent in the 21st century. Take a look:

“Are you too busy, Child of God,
To minister to those in need
Of only a visit, a joyous word,
Your time and attention? A seed
You could sow then and there, you know.
I always have time for you.

Have I ever said, ‘Too busy am I’?
Have I ever listened with a hint of a sigh?
Have I ever excuses made?
Have I ever truth waylaid?
Forget about time, how busy you be.
Think only of Me and the need you see.

Why rush about, worry, and stew?
I am who gives the time; ’tis a fortunate few
Who live in My now—eternal and free.
Where time is nothing—life is to be
Lived in the present. Forget about time.
Do not hurry and worry if you would be Mine.
Give to each soul the time he does take.
I Am, who makes souls—the time surely can make.”

Sue had a way of putting her finger directly on the pulse of our frantic, overstuffed lives. This poem isn’t just about scheduling or slowing down—it’s about trust. It’s about remembering that God is never hurried, never overwhelmed, never sighing at our neediness or our interruptions. If anything, He invites us into a pace shaped by His presence rather than our pressure.

In a world where everyone seems to be sprinting from one thing to the next, Sue reminds us that the Kingdom is found in the unhurried moments: in listening, in loving, in giving someone the gift of our time. God makes time for us, so we can make time for others. And when we step into that rhythm, we discover that the pace of grace is always enough.

God bless you~
James

Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor
Grace Resurrection Methodist Church

In the Gospel of Luke, we encounter a profound narrative that illustrates Jesus’ unwavering dedication to His mission. As He approaches Jericho, Jesus is on a purposeful journey to Jerusalem, yet His heart remains attuned to the needs of those seeking redemption. The account in Luke 19 captures this beautifully as we see Jesus navigating His path with a clear intent “to seek and save the lost.” Jericho serves as a momentous backdrop for this journey, a city rich in history, resting near the life-giving waters of the Jordan River and the stark desolation of the Dead Sea. This city, once memorably conquered by Joshua, now becomes a pivotal site for spiritual conquest through the actions of Christ.

When Jesus enters Jericho, the story unfolds with poignant encounters. Amid the crowds, His attention is drawn to those deemed lost by society. It’s a testament to His ministry’s inclusivity and His transformative power, transcending geographical and social barriers. In this narrative, Jericho symbolizes the crossroads of human need and divine grace, echoing the theme that no place is too remote and no heart too hardened for the love of Jesus.

I came across the scripture while searching for something else last week. I read it in a way that hit me between the eyes. It’s encouraging us to seek divine encounters in our own daily paths, trusting in the purposeful design of our lives to fulfill the greater mission of love and redemption. I often am more interested in the journey of others more than my own. “It’s me, it’s me O’ Lord, standing in the need of prayer!” So what’s my Jericho road? What’s yours? Don’t take a wrong or too quick turn. Keep searching. Your Guide is always with you.

James

Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor
Grace Resurrection Methodist Church

Dear friend, take my advice; it will add years to your life. I’m writing out clear directions to Wisdom Way, drawing a map to Righteous Road. I don’t want you ending up in blind alleys or wasting time making wrong turns. Hold tight to good advice; don’t relax your grip. Guard it well, your life is at stake!
 Proverbs 4:10–13 (MSG)

Dear Reader,

There’s no safer place to walk than in the truth of God. Those who follow His wisdom never walk in darkness, because they carry the light of truth within them. Jesus said, “I am the Light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”

When we walk in truth, we avoid the paths of danger and destruction. The world’s “broad way” looks easy and inviting, but it’s full of pitfalls and traps. Most people travel it without realizing where it leads. God, in His mercy, continually calls out to us: “Turn back! Turn around! Why will you die.” — Ezekiel 33:11

Jesus makes it plain:
“Don’t look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don’t fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way to life – to God! – is vigorous and requires total attention.” — Matthew 7:13–14, MSG

The narrow path may not be the easiest, but it is the safest. It’s where freedom and peace are found, because it’s where Jesus walks with us.

And here’s the good news: God doesn’t just call us to this path, He empowers us to walk it. He removes obstacles and gives us strength to overcome temptations and opposition that would otherwise stop us.

As Paul reminds us,
“No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it.” — 1 Corinthians 10:13, MSG

When we hold fast to truth, we walk safely, even through danger. The wisdom of God doesn’t just inform our journey; it protects our soul every step of the way.

Isn’t that a beautiful picture of God? Throughout scripture God always says, “If you will do this, I will do that.” God always has a process. We either follow that process and see him move or we don’t and he doesn’t! God brings order out of chaos. He doesn’t budge…and I’m glad. 

As we grow in our spiritual walk, my prayer is that we not only offer grace and mercy, but also offer Christ fully and without expectations to those who need our love and support.

In Christ, 
James 

Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor
Grace Resurrection Methodist Church

Dear Reader,

The world of Christianity and the universal Church have been in major transition over the past ten years. Many of the things that once felt powerful—our ideas, programs, even church traditions—have started to feel empty over time. In my listening, praying, and journaling, it seems to me that God often strips away what’s unnecessary to bring us back to the heart of it all: Jesus. It’s not about doing more church work or chasing spiritual trends; it’s about knowing Him deeply. When the focus shifts from activity to intimacy, the Holy Spirit can renew us, fill us with fresh anointing, and use us to bring real change—first in ourselves, then in our churches, and finally in our cities.

We’ve spent so much time learning about Jesus that we’ve forgotten to become like Him. Christianity isn’t meant to be a system of doctrines or traditions; it’s meant to be a living reflection of Christ. The early disciples were ordinary people transformed by undiluted Jesus, and that same power is available today. The Church doesn’t need more titles or structures; it needs hearts completely surrendered to Him. True leadership and revival come when our deepest passion is to look, live, and love like Jesus. Nothing less will do.

We’ve tried attractional models (I’m still a bit ashamed I’ve given away Xboxes and movie tickets in the past to get people to church!). We’ve tried the megachurch model, where we fill the seats and the bank account but most never find real community or being fully known. We’ve tried the social justice model, where we protest the latest controversy, political agenda, or social issue. We’ve tried to intertwine worldly pursuits with Christian pursuits, only to discover that Jesus received far less attention than Satan. Frankly, we’ve tried everything—except the main thing.

Jesus contrasts His teachings with the heavy and burdensome rules of religious leaders, like the Pharisees, and promises that His own yoke is easy and His burden is light. This offer of rest applies to all kinds of burdens—sin, guilt, hardship, and the emotional weight of worldly troubles—and is fulfilled by a relationship with Him rather than through strict adherence to a demanding, legalistic system or box-checking for better church attendance.

Scripture gave us the perfect model: Jesus. That is attractional. That offers true community. That delivers justice. That, my friends, is the way, the truth, and the life.

Keep seeking. Christ is willing. Are we?

James 

Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor

Grace Resurrection Methodist Church

The blood of Christ isn’t a topic that gets much attention today, yet it touches every person’s life and destiny. Some churches even avoid it, afraid such a “gory” subject might offend. But without the blood, there is no salvation. From the very beginning, God made it clear that sin brings death, and only through the shedding of blood could forgiveness be found. The cross stands as the ultimate expression of that truth.

Peter reminds us that we were not redeemed with silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, the spotless Lamb of God. His sacrifice was not symbolic or optional; it was essential. Without it, humanity remains trapped in the hopeless cycle of sin and death. The message of the blood is one of mercy, love, and redemption. It is the only reason we can stand forgiven before a holy God.

Before we can grasp the beauty of that redemption, we must first face the seriousness of sin. Sin deceives, promising satisfaction but always disappointing in the end. It drains joy and purpose and destroys what we hold dear. It is demonic and destructive, breaking families, wrecking health, and leaving spiritual death in its wake.

Yet God, in His mercy, made a way from the very beginning. When Adam and Eve sinned, He covered them with garments of skin, showing that the shedding of blood was necessary to atone for sin. That act foreshadowed the ultimate covering that would come through Jesus Christ. His blood alone brings forgiveness, restores fellowship with God, and gives us new life that never ends.

I find it helpful to pause every so often and thank God for the blood. It may seem strange to thank a Father for allowing His Son to die, but in His love and infinite wisdom, God provided a sacrifice beyond our understanding. By faith and through the blood of Jesus, we are redeemed and made whole.

Stay thankful,

James 
Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor
Grace Resurrection Methodist Church

Dear Reader, 

There’s a myth that floats around Christian leadership an unspoken belief that if you’re called, it will be easy. That you’ll move from success to success, gaining favor like Joseph did in Potiphar’s house. That your calling will be so clear, and your gifts so evident, that people will follow without question.

That’s not how it went for me.

After seminary, I started serving churches, small at first, then medium-sized, and eventually larger congregations. I did what I knew: I preached with passion, visited hospitals, mentored young leaders, wrote articles, led Bible studies, and poured myself into the people God gave me.

And there were beautiful results, baptisms, conversions, healing moments, marriages restored. It was the real thing. But under the surface, something began to erode.

I didn’t notice it at first. But looking back, I can see it so clearly now: I was building a version of myself that looked like “Pastor James” but didn’t fully reflect the James God had called and loved.

There’s a weight to leadership that doesn’t show up in the job description.

You’re not just preaching a sermon, you’re being watched at the grocery store. You’re not just visiting a sick member, you’rerepresenting “the church” to the entire family. You’re not just leading staff meetings, you’re bearing the hopes, expectations, disappointments, and unhealed wounds of  hundreds people who assume you’ll never crack.

Somewhere along the way, I let those expectations shape me more than God’s calling did.

I still prayed. Still read Scripture. Still loved Jesus. But I started performing.

I became the kind of pastor who stayed up all night tweaking sermon slides, not because they needed tweaking, but because I couldn’t handle disappointing the one person who might email the next day with a critique. I became the kind of pastor who smiled through grief, nodded through exhaustion, and preached sermons that lit others on fire while I quietly burned out inside.

I loved the people, but I feared losing their approval. That was my wilderness.

It’s in moments like these that I think about Caleb.

Caleb was a spy sent into the Promised Land with Joshua. The other spies came back afraid, but Caleb stood firm. “We should go up and take possession of the land,” he said, “for we can certainly do it.” (Numbers 13:30)

What set Caleb apart wasn’t strategy or charisma. It was his spirit. Scripture says he “had a different spirit” and “followed the Lord wholeheartedly” (Numbers 14:24). Caleb’s strength wasn’t in his muscles, it was in his devotion.

I think we need more Calebs in ministry. People who aren’t shaped by fear, comparison, or applause, but by wholehearted obedience to God. I long to be that kind of pastor.

One of the most transformative moments in my journey came during a staff meeting.

It wasn’t dramatic. No one yelled. No one walked out. But a trusted staff member pulled me aside afterward and asked, “Do you know how exhausting it is to work for someone who never seems tired?”

At first, I bristled. And honestly at the same time, I took pride in it. I thought I was being strong for the team.

But what they saw was performance. And it made them feel like they couldn’t be human either.

That conversation changed me. I started being honest about my fatigue. I admitted when I didn’t have the answers. I started scheduling rest, not just time off, but soul-restoring moments with God. I invited others to do the same.

And you know what happened?

Nothing fell apart. In fact, we grew closer. Ministry got richer. Trust deepened. People leaned in more, not less.

Biblical leadership isn’t about image management, it’s about surrender.

Jesus didn’t come to be served, but to serve. (Matthew 20:28) And He didn’t build His ministry on control, charisma, or credentials. He built it on intimacy with the Father.

He slipped away to pray. He wept at Lazarus’ tomb. He cooked breakfast for His disciples after they abandoned Him. He didn’t lead from a stage, He led from His heart. 

Whether you’re a pastor or parishioner we all deal with call, image and performance issues. I’ve had great experiences, I’ve been tired and I’ve been betrayed. My mentor since I was 26 years old has been Bishop Al Gwinn. He told me something in my younger years I’ve never forgotten. “James, you be a pastor other pastors can trust.” He said people will abandon you sometimes but you be the one that never abandons. Wow. I’ve tried and for the most part did that, but I wasn’t as good at it until I finally accepted that I was made in the image of God, not Western culture. I’m still walking it out but people are my goal, not accolades. For a time I chased that and it never sufficed. 

The Lord said something to the Apostle Paul centuries ago that now get me through my days and helps me to be someone others can trust. I say it to myself at least once a day, sometimes more, depending on on the day! It’s from his second letter to the Corinthian church: Jesus said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” Real power is not in stamina. It comes on your knees. That’s true Christianity. That’s real ministry. 

In Christ, 
James 

Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor
Grace Resurrection Methodist Church

Dear Reader, 

For years I’ve worked at being a true friend more than a professional pastor. There were many years the professional won out. I used to dream of being a Nathan or a Jonathan, two key, authentic friends in King David’s life. I wanted to be someone who could kneel beside a friend, staff person or colleague and say, “I’m not here to control you. I’m here to serve you.” I even did that literally, kneeling beside people sometimes to pray or to show them that leadership isn’t about power. It’s servanthood. 

But, I learned quickly that such gestures often make people uncomfortable. The world of Christianity, for all its talk about humility and grace, can become a well-rehearsed performance. We say we admire servants, but our culture celebrates strong personalities, strategic minds, and charismatic voices. In many church circles, we don’t honor shepherds with dirty hands and tired feet, we admire those who never seem to get them dirty at all.

I meant every word when I said serving was my priority. I believed it, and I lived it. Yet when I began to take off the professional mask and be real; when I tried to show up as James, instead of Reverend Williams, it didn’t always bring people closer. It scared them. 

In a world where spirituality is often confused with perfection, vulnerability looks like weakness, or even instability. I’ve watched brilliant business leaders walk into the church world and lose their bearings, because in that environment, everything gets tied to God. The devil doesn’t always show up in temptation or scandal. Sometimes he just feeds on emotional immaturity and fear within leadership teams that never learned how to handle honesty.

For years, I longed for deeper conversations with my staff. I wanted meetings where we talked about calling and soul care, not just calendars and budgets. I wanted to ask how their hearts were doing, not just how the attendance numbers looked. But that kind of openness made some people nervous. Not everyone wants to walk in that kind of light. 

I was serving a large church with a growing congregation, and I knew the rules of “the game” — how to speak the right language of leadership, how to cast vision, how to align systems and create strategies. I believed in those things. But I could also feel the slow pull to trade authenticity for admiration.

There’s a strange and painful tension that pastors live in. We’re called to lead with confidence, but also to live with transparency. To be strong and broken, at the same time. When we ignore that tension, we end up becoming performers, not pastors. We become replicas of something holy, but not holy ourselves. 

I prayed. I journaled. I sought mentors. I genuinely wanted to walk with the Spirit. Yet even in my sincerity, I was still trying to maintain the image of what American church culture calls a, “model pastor.” Polished, passionate, unwavering. I began to see that what some people wanted wasn’t a shepherd who smelled like sheep. They wanted a CEO. A spiritual brand manager. Someone who never stumbled, never questioned, never revealed the cracks in his armor.

But the Bible is full of people who made disastrous mistakes—Moses, David, Peter, Paul—and yet God kept redeeming them. And that same grace that rebuilt them is still available to us. 

What saddens me is that many modern churches would never hire those same flawed heroes. They would be seen as too risky, too unstable, too human. And that’s why some churches remain stagnant. They baptize people into programs, not transformation. They grow in number but not in grace. The churches that will truly see revival in this generation are the ones that dare to err on the side of grace, where authenticity is more valuable than image, and where confession is met with compassion instead of condemnation.

I knew my heart was right, but I had perfected the art of being polished. I used it to keep peace with critics, to avoid conflict with control-driven members, to protect myself from the whispers. 

But, I got tired of it. I got tired of pretending everything was fine while my soul was shrinking. I was done acting the part. I didn’t need applause anymore. I needed peace. And peace doesn’t always come easy. It comes slowly, like dawn after a long night.

I remember one night, sitting in my car in the driveway long after everyone had gone to bed. The dashboard lights were off. The house was dark. I whispered into the silence, “God, I don’t know if I can keep doing this. But I know You called me.” There was no thunder, no divine voice breaking through the night. Just stillness. And in that stillness, I felt something settle in me. Not relief, not clarity, just presence. It didn’t take away the pain, but it reminded me I wasn’t alone.

That moment has become the pattern of my life. God doesn’t always hand me answers. He doesn’t always fix the mess or remove the confusion. But He always gives me Himself. And that’s enough.

If you’re reading this and you feel worn out from trying to meet everyone’s expectations, take a breath. Stop performing. Stop trying to be impressive. The applause fades, but peace lasts. You may lose the admiration of some people when you stop pretending, but you’ll gain something far more valuable. You’ll gain freedom. You’ll find your footing again in the presence of a God who never asked you to be perfect, only honest. 

And one day, maybe late at night when no one else sees, peace will find you in the quiet and whisper what your soul has been aching to hear: you’re not alone, and you never were.

James 

Dear Reader,

Life throws a lot at us, doesn’t it! Sometimes it’s easy to sleep right through the moments that matter most. That wasn’t the case with Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. She was wide awake to what God was doing. In a time of deep longing and heartbreak, she brought her prayer to the Lord, and God gave her Samuel. His name means “God hears,” and Samuel became one of Israel’s most important spiritual leaders. Meanwhile Eli, the priest who should have been spiritually alert, kept missing what God was doing. He misread people, failed to lead his family, and let his pastoral instincts grow dull. His life lacked discipline and clarity.

Now think about today. So many kids are growing up without clear boundaries, and deep down they’re hungry for structure. Chaos might look like freedom, but over time it breeds confusion. Parents and grandparents have a difficult but vital role—and as committed Christians, we’re called to provide this for one another in the body of Christ. Like football, life works best with boundaries. If we don’t take our opportunities to guide, teach, and model, someone else will—or worse, no one will.

God raised up Samuel to replace Eli. Later, Samuel anointed David to replace Saul, who also missed his moment.

This is serious. In recent years, as I’ve prayed more earnestly than ever, I’ve learned how rare self-sacrifice, loyalty, and a true heart to walk with people in hard seasons can be. The Jesus-follower, and the congregation, who commits to those traits will see hearts changed, starting with our own, and then our community. God is always moving, always raising up someone who will listen, obey, and lead. 

Don’t sleep through your opportunity. Wake up to what God is doing, and step into it. 

James 

Rev. James A. Williams
Senior Pastor
Grace Resurrection Methodist Church