FBC Jax Watchdogs

Joby Martin Just Kicked a Door Down - Bravo, Joby!

2026-09-24T19:58:57.449-04:00

There are plenty of things I have criticized about megachurch pastors over the nearly 20 years I've been writing the FBC Jax Watchdog. So when I see something worth applauding, I'm going to applaud it. And what Joby Martin just did at his church's Saturated 2026 deserves some applause.

I've watched a lot of Joby Martin over the years. And I mean A LOT. This guy doesn't just preach sermons at The Church of Eleven22. He is everywhere. Podcasts. Interviews. Long-form conversations. Q&A sessions. Roundtables. You name it. There may not be another megachurch pastor in America who has put more of his unscripted theological thinking out there for public consumption. And that matters, because when somebody talks that much, eventually you find out what they really believe.

With Joby, there isn't much mystery. Nobody seriously listening to this guy could mistake him for some squishy theological liberal. Eleven22's own statement of faith is thoroughly evangelical, and Joby's preaching and countless public conversations make his theological orientation unmistakable. He has spoken plainly on abortion, marriage, sexuality, trans'ing the kids, and a host of other cultural and theological issues. He isn't afraid of controversial subjects, and he isn't particularly interested in tailoring his theology to whatever happens to be culturally fashionable.

Which is precisely why what happened at Saturated this year is so interesting. Joby Martin invited Jennie Allen to preach. Not to lead a women's breakout session. Not to come talk to the ladies on Saturday morning. She was one of the featured speakers at Saturated 2026. Look at the lineup: Pastor Robby Gallaty. Jennie Allen. Pastor Jonathan Pokluda. Pastor Jason Shepperd. Pastor Joby Martin. That's the official lineup published by Eleven22. Allen preached Thursday evening, September 17, at both the 5:22 and 7:22 services. Eleven22 describes her as a "Bible teacher, bestselling author, and founder of IF:Gathering." The church itself describes Saturated as five days of "worship and preaching."

And preach she did. The response that evening was extraordinary. During Allen's message, people began openly confessing sin and repenting. Allen later described what she witnessed as one of the most remarkable things she had ever seen in ministry. And apparently Joby Martin didn't feel the need to hold a theological press conference beforehand to explain why a WOMAN was standing up there teaching the Bible to MEN.

Good for him. Really, really good for him.

Because for decades a certain segment of conservative evangelicalism has taken a handful of New Testament passages concerning women and turned them into an elaborate system of restrictions governing when, where and to whom a woman may teach the Bible. Can she teach women? Yes. Teenage boys? Well, how old are the boys? Can she speak on a stage if a man introduces her? Can she "share" but not "preach"? Can she give a "testimony" but not a "sermon"? Can she teach men on a podcast but not from behind a pulpit?

After I left FBC Jax 20 some years ago, I never bought it. I absolutely do not believe the Bible requires Christians to conclude that women are categorically prohibited from serving as pastors or teaching men. Wade Burleson and others have made substantial biblical arguments against the restrictive complementarian interpretation, and I believe conservative Christians can affirm the authority of Scripture without arriving at the most restrictive conclusions concerning women in ministry.

But here's what makes Joby's move particularly significant. Joby isn't some progressive pastor trying to move evangelical Christianity to the left. Quite the opposite. This is Joby Martin. And he simply invited a gifted Bible teacher to teach the Bible. Period.

Perhaps even more interesting is what Jennie Allen said afterward during a Saturated podcast conversation. Allen said that she herself holds a conservative theology regarding male elders. She wasn't trying to launch some feminist revolution at Eleven22. But she also talked about something the church desperately needs to recover: Christian men and women treating one another as brothers, sisters and co-laborers in the gospel. And then she pointed directly to Joby. She described him as her friend, the pastor who had invited her to speak, and someone who treats her as a co-laborer for the gospel.

There it is. No theological panic. No apology. No 14-part sermon series explaining why Jennie technically wasn't "preaching" even though everybody with eyes and ears knew perfectly well what she was doing. She knows the Bible. She can teach. Joby invited her. She preached. People responded. Praise God. Maybe Joby will address this topic on a future podcast, as I'm sure he will be asked about it by one of the many podcasters he engages with week to week. I'll be watching and will report back.

And whether Joby intended it or not, I think he kicked down a door. He demonstrated that a pastor can be unapologetically conservative on Scripture, abortion, marriage, sexuality and the gospel and still recognize that God has extraordinarily gifted women who can stand before a congregation containing both men and women and teach them the Word of God. The sky did not fall. The Bible did not burst into flames. Eleven22 did not suddenly become a liberal church. People heard the gospel and repented. Imagine that.

Now here's another interesting wrinkle. In his sermon following Saturated just tonight, Joby mentioned the remarkable amount of hate mail he had received since the end of Saturated, some from people he said were his friends. That's odd. He didn't say, at least that I heard, exactly what people were angry about. So let me be very clear: I don't know that the hate mail was about Jennie Allen. But I have my suspicions. After an enormously successful Saturated week, what exactly had Joby done that would suddenly send conservative Christians to their keyboards? Maybe there is another explanation. But I wouldn't be surprised in the least if some of it came from the theological hall monitors who saw Jennie Allen standing on that stage teaching men and immediately reached for 1 Timothy 2:12 and gave Joby grief for it. And if that's what happened, I hope Joby doesn't budge an inch. I'm sure he won't and I'm sure he'll have another woman in to preach soon.

One of the things I've increasingly appreciated about Joby Martin is that he seems remarkably comfortable in his own skin. He doesn't come across like a guy constantly looking over his shoulder to see whether the evangelical gatekeepers approve of him. He's a normal guy. He talks like a normal guy. He jokes around. He gets on podcasts and talks for an hour or two without a manuscript protecting him. He answers questions he hasn't seen in advance. He's put himself on the record about an astonishing number of subjects. That is risky. And yet, after all those hours of material, you know what the guy believes. That's authenticity.

I've watched some pastors on podcasts, and they're as boring as can be, some of them not too bright. Joby knows his theology and he knows current events, and the guy has many talents.

I have watched Jacksonville Baptist pastors for a very long time. I watched the Homer Lindsay era at First Baptist Jacksonville. I watched what came afterward, and it led to total destruction and probably to some extent has fueled the rapid rise at Eleven22 the past decade. And I've watched Eleven22 grow from a church plant into one of the most influential churches this city has ever seen. Last year or so I said Joby Martin might become the next Homer Lindsay in Jacksonville. I was wrong. He has already exceeded Homer Lindsay in reach and influence and it is not even close.

That's not a knock on Homer. It's simply recognition of what has happened. Joby's pulpit is no longer merely Jacksonville. Through podcasts, books, social media, streaming and the extraordinary growth of Eleven22, his ministry reaches far beyond Northeast Florida. And Saturated 2026 showed something else about him that I appreciate: he isn't afraid. He apparently doesn't need permission from the complementarian police before deciding whom God can use to proclaim His Word.

Jennie Allen came to Eleven22. Jennie Allen preached. Men listened. Women listened. People repented. And Joby Martin didn't apologize for any of it.

Good.

Don't start now, Joby.

Wrecking Ball Blow #2: FBC Jax Helps Create the Ergun Caner Phenomenon

2026-08-17T22:41:53.990-04:00

It was November 2001. America was still reeling from the September 11 terrorist attacks. Americans were scared, angry, confused and suddenly very interested in Islam. And into the pulpit of First Baptist Jacksonville walked a preacher with one heck of a testimony.

His name was Ergun Caner, and boy, did he have a story. Caner told the packed First Baptist auditorium that he had been raised in Europe, had been involved in "Islamic Youth Jihad," and had been "trained to do that which was done on 11 September." I was sitting there with my family listening to it, and I believed him. Talk about having the right testimony at exactly the right time. A former Muslim supposedly immersed in Islamic jihad, converted to Christianity and now able to explain the Muslim world to frightened American Christians? You couldn't have ordered a better speaker from Central Casting.

There was just one teeny-tiny problem: the dramatic biography Caner was presenting to us didn't hold up. And one of the churches that gave the emerging Ergun Caner phenomenon one heck of a launch into Southern Baptist stardom? You guessed it: First Baptist Church Jacksonville.

Before and After 9/11

Years later, I posted what I still think is one of the most remarkable visual summaries of the whole Caner affair: two photographs of Caner before and after 9/11. I called the post "Caner - Before and After 9/11 Shots."

See the two Caner photographs in my October 29, 2013 Watchdog post

Look at those two pictures. On the left was the pre-9/11 version, known as "Butch Caner" or "E. Michael Caner." As I wrote at the time, he was an obscure preacher who had grown up in Ohio from about the age of three. I certainly don't remember seeing the George Costanza-looking version of Caner making the megachurch circuit.

Then came 9/11, and just a few weeks later Jerry Vines brought a considerably more exotic version of Caner into First Baptist Jacksonville. Now we had "Ergun Mehmet Giovanni Caner." Same guy, much better marketing. Caner stood before thousands of us talking about Islamic Youth Jihad and being trained to do what had happened on September 11. He spoke with an accent, rolled his R's and talked about having difficulty speaking English as a teenager; except Caner had been living in Ohio since he was a small child.

When I wrote about those two photographs in 2013, I described what had happened to those of us sitting in that auditorium with two words: "We were tricked. Bamboozled."

Nine Years Later, I Got the Tape

In 2010, as questions about Caner's biography began circulating on the Internet, I remembered that sermon at First Baptist Jacksonville. I knew what I had heard that morning, but there was a problem: this was November 2001. There wasn't a convenient YouTube archive where I could type "Ergun Caner FBC Jax" and pull up the video.

Believe it or not, First Baptist still had something resembling the old church tape ministry.

And this is where the story gets interesting.

I had a friend who was still a member of First Baptist Jacksonville. Through the church's own resources, that person was able to get her hands on an audio recording of Caner's November 20, 2001 sermon and get it to me.

Think about the irony of that.

One of the most important pieces of evidence in the Ergun Caner controversy didn't come from some sophisticated investigative operation. It came from an old FBC Jax audio tape that had apparently been sitting in the church's own archives for nearly nine years.

I listened to it.

And what I heard was worse than I remembered.

Caner told us he had been "raised in Europe." He said that until age 15 he had been in "Islamic Youth Jihad." Then came the whopper: "until I came to America, until I found Jesus Christ as Lord, I was trained to do that which was done on 11 September."

I posted the audio on the Watchdog.

And I have to imagine there were some people who deeply regretted that the old FBC Jax tape ministry had been so diligent about preserving sermons.

Because as far as I have ever been able to determine, that FBC Jacksonville recording was the surviving record of the sermon where Caner was making some of the most extraordinary claims about his life at the very beginning of his post-9/11 rise. I was contacted by a trustee at Liberty University about that tape, and the recordings I had archived from an Ohio Free Will Baptists website where Caner told outlandish stories of learning about American culture as a teenager in Istanbul, Turkey. Total rubbish.

Read my March 2010 Watchdog investigation of Caner's FBC Jax sermon

That recording is also why the Caner story became so personal to me. I wasn't investigating something that supposedly happened at somebody else's church. I was there, with my family. I remembered believing that we had just heard the testimony of essentially a former Islamic jihadist who had been saved by Jesus just in the nick of time before becoming one of the people we had watched flying airplanes into buildings. That was precisely why the story was so powerful in November 2001.

We Got the Testimony We Wanted

The really fascinating part is that Caner's actual testimony was already a perfectly good Christian testimony. He had been raised Muslim and converted to Christianity as a teenager. Isn't that enough?

Apparently not for the evangelical celebrity machine.

Regular Muslim kid growing up in Ohio converts to Christianity? Nice. But apparently that doesn't provide quite enough horsepower for the evangelical conference circuit. Former Islamic jihadist raised overseas, trained in terrorism, finds Jesus and arrives in your church immediately after September 11?

Books, conferences, speaking engagements, seminary positions and packed auditoriums followed. Jerry Vines and other prominent Southern Baptist leaders gave Caner tremendous credibility. And when Caner stood in the First Baptist Jacksonville pulpit, he wasn't speaking at some storefront church next to a laundromat. He was speaking to thousands from one of the most influential pulpits in Southern Baptist life.

That platform mattered. If Jerry Vines had this guy standing in the FBC Jax pulpit telling us this incredible story, surely somebody had checked him out, right?

Then the Bloggers Ruined Everything

Eventually the Caner controversy became too large to dismiss as pesky Internet bloggers tapping away in their mothers' basements, as Ergun Caner liked to say. I posted the FBC Jax recording so people could listen and judge for themselves, and by the end of 2010 I had written more than 20 articles about Caner. The Watchdog material became part of the larger investigation into the contradictions in Caner's public biography.

Liberty University eventually investigated Caner's public statements and concluded there were factual statements that were self-contradictory involving dates, names and places of residence. His appointment as seminary dean was not renewed.

But what bothered me almost as much as Caner's stories was the reaction from the evangelical establishment. Where were all the guardians of biblical truth? These were guys who could detect theological liberalism at 500 yards. Say the wrong thing about the creation story in Genesis and somebody would convene the discipline committee. Let a woman get within 25 feet of the pulpit and somebody would need smelling salts. (which reminds me of the time Ergun joked to the Ohio Free Will Baptists: "Do I believe in women behind the pulpit? You bet I do, how else do you expect them to vacuum back here if they can't get behind it?")

But when serious questions emerged about the autobiographical claims of a nationally prominent evangelical celebrity, suddenly everybody became very cautious: "Well, we don't know all the facts." Funny how that works.

And amazingly, Caner was back at the FBC Jax Pastors' Conference in January 2011. At the time I argued that putting him back on the program, surrounded again by major SBC personalities, effectively communicated that Caner was back in good standing with the evangelical preaching establishment.

Why This Was Another Swing of the Wrecking Ball

I'm not arguing that Ergun Caner caused First Baptist Jacksonville's attendance decline, and I'm certainly not claiming his 2001 sermon caused the financial problems that eventually resulted in the Main Auditorium being sold. That would be ridiculous.

Caner was a symptom. He showed what could happen when enormous evangelical platforms became fascinated with sensational testimonies, celebrity personalities and incredible stories while forgetting to ask boring little questions such as: Is this true? Did anybody verify it? Should this person really be standing in our pulpit? And when we discover that something isn't true, are we willing to admit publicly that we got fooled?

That's where institutions either correct themselves or begin deteriorating. First Baptist Jacksonville helped give Ergun Caner an enormous platform. The Southern Baptist celebrity machine helped turn him into a star. And when the story eventually unraveled, precious few of the people who helped create the phenomenon seemed particularly interested in standing up and saying, "We got this wrong."

Maybe that's because accountability is considerably more enjoyable when you're preaching it to the people sitting in the pews. It's a little less fun when the sermon on accountability is about you, the "man of God".

The Main Auditorium was still standing. The crowds were still coming, the conferences were still going, the celebrity preachers were still arriving, and everything looked fine.

But another swing had landed.

Wrecking Ball Blow #2.

The Wrecking Ball that Brought Down FBC Jax: Blow Number 1, Homer Died

2026-08-13T03:04:05.082-04:00

Before going any further, let's be clear about something.

First Baptist Jacksonville is not dead. The church still exists, it still has a significant ministry, and under Heath Lambert it has made the painful decisions necessary to get itself back onto solid financial footing.

But let's not kid ourselves about what happened either.

The First Baptist Jacksonville of the 1980s and 1990s, the church that was once one of the largest and most influential churches in America is gone.

This was once a church that drew enormous crowds into downtown Jacksonville every Sunday. It hosted one of the premier pastors' conferences in the country. Its pastors were nationally known Southern Baptist leaders. Its downtown campus sprawled across city blocks, and in 1993 it opened an approximately 11,000-seat Main Auditorium because, amazingly enough, they actually needed the seats.

Today, First Baptist isn't even close to being the largest church in metropolitan Jacksonville, much less one of the largest churches in America.

And perhaps nothing illustrates that decline better than what is happening right now to the Main Auditorium.

They're tearing the thing down.

For those of us who were actually sitting inside that building when it opened in 1993, that's difficult to comprehend. This isn't some 120-year-old sanctuary with rotting floorboards and bats living in the steeple. The building is barely more than 30 years old.

The auditorium isn't being demolished because First Baptist Jacksonville ceased to exist.

It is being demolished because the First Baptist Jacksonville that needed an 11,000-seat auditorium ceased to exist.

That's an important distinction.

And that's what I mean when I say the wrecking ball came twice.

The literal wrecking ball is arriving now. The figurative wrecking ball began swinging years ago as the church lost thousands of members, financial resources, national influence and ultimately much of the downtown campus that generations of First Baptist members sacrificed to build.

Heath Lambert eventually inherited the aftermath. To his credit, Lambert made some extraordinarily difficult decisions. He sold property, dramatically reduced the church's footprint and put First Baptist on a sustainable financial course.

But by then, the old First Baptist Jacksonville empire had already been decimated.

So while we're watching the Main Auditorium come down, I thought it might be interesting to go back through nearly two decades of Watchdog history and ask a rather obvious question:

How in the world did we get here?

How does one of America's great megachurches go from needing an 11,000-seat auditorium to watching that same auditorium demolished barely three decades after opening it?

It wasn't one thing.

The wrecking ball swung several times.

I'm going to look at what I believe were the five biggest blows.

And here is blow number one.

Blow #1: Homer Died, and Nobody Was Looking Out for First Baptist Anymore

It would be tempting for me to rewrite history and claim that First Baptist's problems began when church leadership stopped listening to ordinary members.

But longtime First Baptist members would laugh at that one.

Let's be honest.

Homer Lindsay wasn't exactly running a congregational democracy.

Homer ran First Baptist Jax.

Jerry Vines, Homer's co-pastor beginning in the mid-1980s, was the magnificent preacher in the pulpit. But Homer was the guy running the church.

Homer didn't spend his time traveling around the country building the Homer Lindsay Ministries brand. He wasn't constantly looking for the next conference, book deal or opportunity to expand his national profile. Homer was in Jacksonville. He knew what was happening at First Baptist because First Baptist was his life.

And let's not romanticize the governance structure either. The trustees weren't exactly sitting around a mahogany conference table carefully exercising independent oversight over Homer Lindsay.

Homer made the decisions. The trustees knew Homer made the decisions. The congregation knew Homer made the decisions. And Homer knew everybody knew Homer made the decisions.

That was First Baptist Jacksonville.

And Homer didn't particularly care for critics either. Homer would have hated this blog.

Years later, after Homer had died, Vines had retired and the Watchdog was in full swing, Vines returned to preach at the Pastors' Conference. During his sermon he talked about what he did with anonymous critical letters, and therefore presumably anonymous blogs.

He threw them away.

And, as I remember it, he joked that he would spit on them first.

The crowd loved it and giggled and clapped.

So spare me any revisionist history about the golden age of First Baptist leadership carefully considering anonymous criticism, distributing member surveys and holding listening sessions.

[Revision after posting: I have to be fair to Heath Lambert - one of the aspects of his leadership when he was leading the church through the massive restructuring: huge personnel cuts, selling properties, etc., was he actually held town hall meetings where members could step up to an open microphone and ask questions or air grievances. That was absolutely unheard of in FBC Jax history! Imagine ANY mega church having an open microphone session, live streamed online and posted to YouTube!! So it certainly was a different day under Heath's leadership as he led them through the darkest period of the church's history]

That wasn't First Baptist Jacksonville.

But there was one enormous difference between the Homer era and what followed.

Homer loved that church.

Whatever you think about his leadership style - and there was plenty to criticize for sure - Homer had a vision for First Baptist Jacksonville. He believed that enormous downtown campus existed to build the church and fulfill what he believed was the Great Commission.

He wasn't building a personal brand.

He wasn't using First Baptist to sell Homer Lindsay books transcripted from his sermons.

He didn't negotiate the intellectual rights to his sermons.

He wasn't selling cruises like "Sail the Danube with the Lindsays" or "Holy Land with Homer" trips

First Baptist wasn't a platform for Homer Lindsay Enterprises, LLC.

It was First Baptist Church of Jacksonville.

Then Homer died.

And in hindsight, I believe that may have been the first swing of the wrecking ball.

As Heath Lambert himself chronicled years later in his podcast series "What Happened at FBC Jax," the decline in membership and attendance began around 2000. Interesting timing.

Because First Baptist's problem wasn't simply that enormous authority had been concentrated in a few hands.

Let's be more accurate.

It had been concentrated largely in one hand: Homer's.

The problem was what happened when Homer disappeared but the system didn't.

First Baptist still had a congregation conditioned to trust its senior leadership. It still had enormous financial resources. It still had tremendous institutional prestige. It still had trustees accustomed to deferring to the senior pastor.

What it didn't have anymore was Homer Lindsay standing there making sure that First Baptist Jacksonville came first.

And slowly, in my view, other interests began creeping in.

I wrote about events such as "A Time to Stand With Israel," which I believed had precious little to do with the actual mission of First Baptist Jacksonville and looked much more like a fundraising enterprise taking advantage of the church's enormous platform.

My criticism of that event apparently didn't win me any Christmas cards from the powerful layman who helped coordinate it. In fact, I have long believed my criticism of that event helped seal my fate when it came to the extraordinary efforts eventually undertaken to discover the identity of the anonymous Watchdog blogger.

Then there was the once-great Pastors' Conference.

I watched something that had been a genuine ministry of First Baptist Jacksonville increasingly resemble a Christian marketing convention.

Products. Promotions. Celebrity preachers. Cruises with the pastor. Holy Land trips.

Apparently the Great Commission needed a travel agent.

Somewhere along the way, it seemed to me that the question changed.

The old question was:

"How can First Baptist use its resources and the sacrificial giving of its members, to accomplish its mission?"

Increasingly, the question seemed to become:

"How can this enormous audience and platform be used to advance the interests and opportunities (and pocketbook) of the senior pastor?"

And that distinction matters.

Homer Lindsay could be controlling. He could be stubborn. He could run the church with an iron fist.

But I never doubted whose interests Homer believed he was protecting.

First Baptist Jacksonville's.

Once Homer was gone, the church retained all the vulnerabilities of the system he had created: concentrated authority, tremendous institutional prestige, trustees accustomed to deferring to the senior pastor, and a congregation conditioned for decades to blindly trust the man behind the pulpit.

What it no longer had was Homer.

And perhaps that was the first swing of the wrecking ball.

The one hitting the Main Auditorium today is just a lot easier to see.

Wrecking Ball Blow #1.

Stay tuned.

We've got four more swings to go.

The Wrecking Ball Came Twice...

2026-08-09T14:45:32.949-04:00

...the real demolition of FBC Jax occurred years ago when the first wrecking ball arrived. But now the literal wrecking ball is taking down the main auditorium to make way for a Publix and 11 stories of condominiums.

A few weeks ago I stopped by the old First Baptist Jacksonville auditorium, where demolition is underway. I've included some of my own photos from a few weeks ago, and some more recent ones that were in the newspaper this week after more demolition has occurred (credited to David Bauerlein and Florida Times Union)

I'll admit, it was a little emotional.

My young family and I were there when this building opened in 1993. At the time, it represented an exciting new chapter in the church's history, and over the next three decades countless worship services, concerts, weddings, funerals, and other significant moments took place inside its walls. For many of us, there are a lot of memories attached to this place.

That's why it's hard to see a building that's only about thirty years old already facing demolition.

The sad reality is that it didn't have to end this way. As downtown Jacksonville experiences a remarkable resurgence, with new residential development, major investment around the Jaguars stadium, and renewed interest in urban living; FBC Jax could have remained an important part of that story.

Instead, years of financial mismanagement, institutional arrogance, and pastors and their sycophants more interested in enriching themselves and their families, left the church with impossible decisions. By the time Heath Lambert became senior pastor, there really were no easy options left. Selling portions of the downtown campus, including this auditorium, wasn't a visionary choice as much as it was a necessary one to deal with the financial realities he inherited.

Over the next few weeks, I'll be sharing some photos, memories, and reflections as this chapter in First Baptist Jacksonville's history comes to a close. Kudos to the current FBC Jax pastor, Heath Lambert, for doing what was necessary to save the church from the years of mismanagement that led to the arrival of the second wrecking ball.

The Great Myth of “I’ll Be Happy When This Is Over”

2026-01-31T16:39:00.001-05:00

The Watchdog is turning 62 this year, which means two things are now undeniably true:

I’ve spent a lot of years confidently believing things that turned out not to be true.
I now recognize just how stubborn I was about letting go of them.

For most of my adult life, I believed in what I now recognize as a complete fairy tale: Once I get past this season of trouble, then I’ll be happy. You know the story. Just get through this financial stress. Just get past this conflict. Just survive this season. Then, finally, peace, joy, happiness, a hammock, and maybe a gentle breeze.

Spoiler alert: that day never comes.

Trouble never really leaves. It recedes for a while, then comes back from a different direction. Different decade, different problem. Same reality.

When you’re young, the trouble feels dramatic and urgent. When you’re middle-aged, it’s heavier and more complicated. When you’re older, it’s maybe more tame but more relentless. Some troubles are big. Some are long. Some are short. But even the short ones have a nasty habit of being replaced by something else waiting just around the corner.

I honestly thought, well into adulthood, that someday trouble would finally be behind me. As if life were a math problem you eventually solve and then close the book.

Turns out, life is not a math problem. It’s a recurring quiz.

And here’s a verse that finally wrecked my illusion, even though I’d heard it my whole life:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”
James 1:2–3

Notice what that verse does not say. It does not say, “Be joyful after the trial.” It does not say, “Hang on until happiness arrives later.” It says consider it joy when you face trials. Not because the trouble is good, but because trouble is unavoidable, and how you respond to it is where maturity is forged.

That realization took me nearly 60 years to grasp, I mean to really understand it. I suppose when you hit 60, you start to see the end in sight and part of this has caused me to realize this about trouble. When I shared this hard-earned insight with my wife, she simply said, “I’ve always known that.” And of course she had. Same truth, same destination, she just didn’t need decades to figure out that trouble isn’t a detour in life; it’s the road.

That’s not Christian fluff. That’s ancient, hard-earned wisdom.

Some of my preachers tried to tell me this for years. I distinctly remember Homer Lindsey coming back again and again to one simple idea: thankfulness. He leaned heavily on this verse:

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:18

Notice the precision of the language. It doesn’t say give thanks for all circumstances. It says in all circumstances. That’s not denial. That’s discipline. That’s learning how to live without postponing gratitude until life finally behaves itself.

Paul says something similar from a much more personal angle:

“I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances…whether living in plenty or in want.”
Philippians 4:11–12

Contentment, according to Paul, was something learned over time. In my wife’s case, though, it really does seem to be part of who she is. Through ups and downs, through seasons of real difficulty, she has consistently been content in a way that never depended on circumstances cooperating. I lived right next to that example for decades, and somehow still managed to miss the lesson.

Recently, I found myself having a conversation with one of my adult children who is going through a genuinely difficult and emotionally painful season. And I had to admit something that surprised even me: that it wasn’t until I was about 60 years old that I finally learned this lesson. I told them that when trouble comes, even severe trouble, you eventually have to accept that this is part of life, and that waiting for it to end before allowing yourself joy is a losing strategy. You have to enjoy the journey somehow. You have to appreciate what you have now. I had to admit to my adult child that I lived most of my life not realizing that I was actually in the best years of my life, and was stupidly waiting for a better time to come!

I also told them something else that felt important to say out loud. While I may not be facing severe trouble at this exact moment, I know full well that something is always waiting around the corner. Jerry Vines always said "you're either in a storm, coming out of a storm, or about to go into a storm". I could get sick. My wife could get sick. Our elderly parents could get sick. Life has no shortage of ways to remind you that control is an illusion. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make you wise; it just delays the lesson.

That conversation is part of why I’m writing this.

What Homer was really saying, and what I was too stubborn to learn was this: If you wait for trouble to leave before you allow yourself to be happy, you will die waiting.

Money won’t save you from this. People love to believe that financial success is a force field against trouble. It’s not. Money simply upgrades the class of problems you get. A lack of money causes trouble. Having money causes a different kind of trouble. Lose it? Trouble. Manage it? Trouble. Protect it? Trouble. Argue about it? Trouble.

Pick your poison.

Health issues don’t wait for your bank account. Family conflict doesn’t care about your retirement plan. Aging doesn’t pause because you finally got things “figured out.”

Another verse says it even more bluntly when Jesus himself said:

“In this world you will have trouble.”
John 16:33

Not might. Not occasionally. Will.

The lie we tell ourselves is that happiness is the absence of trouble. It isn’t. Happiness, real happiness, is learning to live inside the trouble without being owned by it.

I no longer wait for the storm to pass before I allow myself peace. I don’t postpone joy until the next chapter. I don’t tell myself, Just get through this, then you can breathe. Because there is always another “this.”

The secret, if you want to call it that, that my wife has always known is learning to be content, grateful, and even joyful while life is doing what life has always done: being hard.

I’m thankful I finally learned that. Late, yes. But better late than still believing the lie at 80.

Trouble isn’t leaving. That’s okay.

I don’t need it to.

Magical Thinking, Flashbangs, Lost Fingers, and the New Fundamentalists

2026-01-29T11:09:00.000-05:00

If you’re trying to make sense of the increasingly unhinged behavior surrounding ICE protests; blocking vehicles, wrestling armed agents, biting fingers, smashing taillights, charging officers with cars; and you’re doing it through a political lens alone, you’re going to miss the point entirely. What you’re watching isn’t political activism gone a little too far. It’s fundamentalism. And once you understand how fundamentalists actually think, the behavior stops being surprising and starts being tragically predictable.

Fundamentalists don’t live in reality the way normal adults do. They live in a story. A script. A moral drama where the outcome is already decided because they are convinced they are on the “right side of history,” or more dangerously, the “right side of God.” Reality, consequences, physics, and law enforcement procedures are just inconvenient details that are supposed to bend at the climax of the movie.

That’s why you see protesters reacting to flashbangs - such as the protestor in the viral video has her finger blown off - like they’re props in an action film. Somewhere in their brains, this isn’t a controlled explosive used by law enforcement for crowd control; it’s a grenade from a movie scene where the hero scoops it up, throws it back at just the right moment, and watches the bad guy get his comeuppance while the crowd cheers. They are genuinely surprised when the real world doesn’t follow the screenplay and they're missing half their finger in the freezing cold.

But that delusion isn’t new. I’ve seen it before. I lived around it for years in religious fundamentalism.

Religious fundamentalists routinely make life-altering decisions based on the belief that reality will be overridden by divine intervention. They’re told explicitly that if they tithe ten percent, God will protect their finances. Your refrigerator won’t break. Your roof won’t leak. Your kid won’t wreck their car. You're robbing God and inviting his curses. And if those bad things do happen? Well, you must not have tithed correctly, faithfully, or joyfully enough, or whatever.

It’s magical thinking dressed up as faith.

And while many church members quietly roll their eyes and tolerate that nonsense from their man of God, the mental framework is still there: make irrational decisions now, because a higher power will sort out the consequences later. Don’t plan. Don’t assess risk. Don’t question the premise. Don't use common sense and history as your guide to measure their words. Just act and trust the system to reward your obedience. I’ve seen this up close: people I care about, steeped in religious fundamentalism, making disastrous life decisions because they were convinced they had no choice, that obedience to God required it, armed with Bible verses and reinforced by other believers who eagerly sanctified the damage.

Now swap out God for ideology, preachers for activists and left-wing politicians, and tithing sermons for viral talking points, and you have the modern ICE protester.

They honestly believe that law enforcement will somehow stop behaving like law enforcement because their cause is righteous enough. They block vehicles as if federal agents will politely reverse course. They grab officers as if guns are just decorative accessories. They kick patrol cars, bite agents, charge with weapons on them, spit on them, and seem genuinely shocked when the situation escalates exactly the way it always does and always has for decades.

In their minds, they aren’t obstructing federal law enforcement; they’re playing the hero. They imagine the scene ending with the bad guys exposed, the crowd applauding, and history vindicating them. What they don’t imagine, because fundamentalists never do, is the part where reality asserts itself and people get seriously injured or killed.

This is the same mindset that convinces a church member to give away money they can’t afford to lose because “God will work it out.” and they must do it to show obedience. It’s the same mindset that convinces a protester that running a car toward armed agents is a symbolic act or a heroic act, instead of a potentially fatal one. The belief system differs, but the brain wiring is identical.

Fundamentalism always disconnects people from consequences. It trains them to believe outcomes are certain because their cause is pure. And when that belief collides with the real world: with laws, weapons, physics, and human reactions and predictable human behavior, the result is chaos.

That’s why none of this can be explained by “passion” or “anger” alone. Plenty of people are passionate without being delusional. What you’re watching is what happens when adults are taught over and over that thinking is optional and obedience to the narrative is everything.

And here’s the cruel irony: the same people who mock religious believers for trusting invisible forces are now trusting an invisible moral force to suspend reality on their behalf.

It never does.

Fundamentalism always promises a miracle. Reality always collects the bill.

The Church of Outrage and Its Willing Martyrs

2026-01-27T09:11:00.002-05:00

Watching recent videos of protesters screaming at federal officers: “Shoot me, shoot me, you cowards”, brought a realization into focus that had been forming for a while. Not about immigration policy. Not about ICE tactics. About fundamentalism. Specifically, how dangerous it gets when people are duped to believe things with religious-level certainty that they cannot possibly know to be true, or that are outright falsehoods.

And yes, I say that as someone who used to be a card-carrying religious fundamentalist. I raised my family in it. I lived it at First Baptist Jacksonville. I believed deeply, sincerely, and confidently. I made decisions, sometimes big ones, based on convictions that I assumed were true because I was told they were true, wanted them to be true because there was a bible verse attached, and I had very convincing and maybe even sincere pastors confirming by beliefs.

Here’s the uncomfortable realization: the modern left has created its own version of religious fundamentalism, and the parallels are eerie.

These protesters didn’t wake up one morning and decide, “I think I’ll charge federal officers today.” They’ve been catechized. Indoctrinated. Told over and over by their "preachers" that ICE is the modern Gestapo, that federal agents are essentially Hitler’s stormtroopers, and that mass roundups are happening indiscriminately, with no law, no process, no restraint. Say it often enough. Say it loudly enough. Wrap it in moral outrage. Eventually, people believe it.

That’s fundamentalism. And the preachers are the leftist politicians in Minnesota and Congress and their allies in legacy media.

When you believe something absolutely, without evidence, without nuance, without the ability to question, you stop thinking. You train your brain to believe things that aren't true that you wish were true, or that must be true to maintain your belief structure. You start acting. And that’s where things get dangerous.

Let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with having strong convictions. There is nothing wrong with opposing immigration policy. There is nothing wrong with thinking ICE is heavy-handed, misguided, or even wrong. Adults can disagree about policy. That’s normal. That’s healthy.

What’s not healthy is believing, without proof, contrary to available evidence, that ICE agents are literal Nazis, and then acting as if that belief justifies screaming in their faces, physically interfering with them, resisting arrest, or, in some cases, bringing weapons into the mix. At that point, you’re not protesting policy; you’re role-playing a dystopian fantasy that someone else wrote for you.

I recognize this because I’ve seen it before; just with a different flag and different slogans.

Religious fundamentalists do this all the time. I've seen it happen to people I love. They make objectively bad life decisions because they’re convinced “God will work it out.” No planning. No wisdom. Ignoring evidence, ignoring "common knowledge" of human behavior. They seek out confirmation and ratification from fellow believers. Just blind confidence that the universe will bend around their beliefs. When it doesn’t, they’re shocked. Offended. Angry. Someone else must be to blame, and they're left to pick up the pieces and make sense of what happened to them.

Now watch the left-wing version unfold in real time.

Religious fundamentalism has always followed a predictable structure, and that’s exactly why it’s so easy to spot once you’ve lived inside it. There are the preachers, the authoritative voices who tell you what is true and what must never be questioned. There are the elders and enforcers, the ones with institutional power who decide who’s in and who’s out. There are the faithful, repeating the approved language, and the converts, freshly awakened and often the most zealous of all. There are the slogans; short, emotionally loaded phrases that substitute for thinking. There are the sacred beliefs, declared to be rock-solid facts even when they rest on little more than repetition and moral intimidation. And, of course, there are the heretics; anyone who questions the narrative is treated as dangerous, immoral, or evil. Strip away the Bible verses and replace them with activist talking points, trade pastors for politicians and influencers, and swap altar calls for TikTok videos, and you’re looking at the exact same religious system. Different scripture. Same unquestioned certainty. Same demand for obedience.

Truth is federal officers are executing lawful duties. You may hate the law. You may hate the policy. But they are not freelance vigilantes. When protesters physically interfere with law enforcement, wrestling, resisting, blocking vehicles, screaming provocations, they’re not engaging in civil disobedience. They’re gambling with reality. And reality doesn’t care how righteous you feel. You won't find me in any circumstance wrestling one of our JSO officers, as I know where that will lead.

What, exactly, do they think is going to happen when you rush armed officers? That they’ll drop their badges, join hands, and sing protest songs? That the law will suddenly evaporate because you feel strongly enough?

This is what happens when moral certainty replaces critical thinking.

And here’s where the irony gets rich.

The only modern president who actually sent armed federal agents to seize a terrified child at gunpoint on live television, was Bill Clinton, during the seizure of Elian González. A five-year-old. Guns drawn. Door kicked in. Photo for the history books. That is not what is happening today in Minnesota, but the leftist faithful are told it is.

Funny how that part of history never seems to make the protest posters.

Instead, we get hyperventilated analogies, historical illiteracy, and the moral equivalent of speaking in tongues, lots of noise, zero clarity. Political "preachers" jazzing up the religious leftist faithful into making really bad choices.

I’m not defending ICE as flawless. I’m not sanctifying federal power. I’m pointing out something far more unsettling: when people are trained to believe lies with absolute conviction, they will eventually act on them. And when that happens, whether in churches or on the streets, people get hurt.

Fundamentalism isn’t confined to pews anymore. It just changed costumes.

And that should worry all of us.

The Pastor Who Doesn’t Fake It: Why Joby Outshines the Polished Performers

2025-12-09T14:47:00.002-05:00

Let me go ahead and spoil the ending: Joby Martin is good at preaching because Joby Martin is good at people. You don’t need a PhD in homiletics to see it. No, Joby has something far rarer in modern American evangelicalism: he sounds like a man who actually likes the people he’s talking to.

This is why your typical pew-sitter: tired dad, stressed mom, skeptical twenty-year-old, guy who hasn’t cracked a Bible since the Bush administration, will sit there and listen to him. Gladly. And unlike some pulpits in Jacksonville, they’ll come back without needing a guilt-driven donor letter to remind them.

But here’s the theory I want to put on the table: Joby is this good because he spends an insane number of hours actually talking to people, out loud, every single week.

The man is a communication factory.

He’s got Deepen, his main podcast: deep dives, personal stories, Bible, culture, philosophy, you name it, all conversational style with at least two other people in on the conversation. Then there’s Built for More, another long-form conversational platform. Then all the outside podcasts, guest appearances, panels, interviews, and discussions he drops into. Add it up, and this guy may legitimately log tens of hours of spoken content every week.

But it’s not just the volume of Joby’s communication, it’s the quality of it. Because when you talk that much, about real things, with real people, you get good at sounding, well, real. When Joby gets to the pulpit, he isn’t “presenting a sermon.” He’s stepping into a conversation he’s already processed twenty different ways during the week. It comes across natural, conversational, lived-in. He applies Scripture to life because he’s already been talking about life non-stop.

And here’s where his recent comment on his podcast comes in, a comment that exposes the whole paradigm:

Joby says his leadership style is to lead with hope and faith.

He contrasted it with other leaders who may be competent, but who lead out of fear, anxiety, and panic over what might happen to their ministries.

Let’s pause on that.

If you’ve spent any time in Baptist-land, you know exactly the type he’s describing. The leader who treats every budget shortfall like an existential crisis. The leader whose sermon volume (as in decibels) goes up as giving goes down. The leader who thinks the sheep exist for the shepherd, not the other way around. The leader who can’t preach a passage without somehow steering it toward your wallet.

Joby? He’s not operating out of fear. He’s not sweating about losing control of the church. He’s not waking up in the night in a cold sweat about whether the people will love him enough to tithe. The man genuinely believes, and it shows. He leads with hope, faith, and yes, love. And preaching that flows from actual hope and actual love connects in a way fear-based leadership never will.

I’ve said it before on this blog: people can smell authenticity a mile away. They can smell performance just as quickly. With Joby, you get the unmistakable sense that he cares. That he’s trying to help, not manage. That he’s talking to people, not at them. That he’s not burdened by insecurity, which is why he doesn’t need to burden you with guilt.

That’s the secret.

Not production value. Not brand strategy. Not theological gymnastics. He doesn't stare you down, jerk off his glasses (ok he doesn't wear glasses), nor will he amen himself if he doesn't get crowd feedback.

Just a preacher who talks like a human being because he’s spent thousands of hours talking to human beings. A preacher who leads with faith and hope instead of fear and manipulation. A preacher who treats his listeners like actual people rather than revenue streams.

If other pastors want to know why their sermons aren’t landing, maybe they should stop huddling around spreadsheets, step away from the tithing passages, and start talking to people again. Or better yet, start leading with hope instead of panic.

It seems to be working pretty well for Joby and his church.

An American Hero's Story - Uncle Ed, Mario Edwin Pacheco

2025-11-07T08:28:00.002-05:00

This Veteran's Day, I’ve found myself thinking about what makes an American hero. This past spring, just days before Memorial Day, we laid to rest a true American hero, Mario Edwin Pacheco, my wife’s uncle on her mother's side, a man whose life exemplified the kind of heroism we don't see highlighted by the media or those in popular culture.

Uncle Ed, as we called him, was born in Puerto Rico, served 22 years in the United States Air Force including active time in Vietnam, earned a college degree and went on to become a successful businessman. But if that’s all I told you, you’d miss what really made him a hero.

What stood out at his memorial service is that Ed was the original American hero. The kind that never asks for recognition but earns it every single day. Married to the love of his life for 65 years, Ed and his wife raised four boys. He stayed involved in their lives, stayed close, stayed relevant - a word I’ve come to hold close in these later years of my own life. That’s what I want: to stay relevant, to be close, to matter in the lives of my children and grandchildren.

Ed mattered. And his family knew it. In the final year of his life, after a stroke left him homebound, his wife cared for him with a love and strength that is nothing short of heroic itself. And when the end was near they had a plan - just a simple text code his wife would send their boys. She sent it. And within ten minutes of his passing one night in April, all four sons were at his bedside

That’s a life well-lived. That’s a legacy. Ed was the kind of man this nation should honor.

One of the clearest expressions of Ed’s love for his family came before he even set foot in Vietnam. In the early 1970s, as he prepared to deploy with the Air Force, he made the decision to move his entire family from New York, back to Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico. He wanted them living right next door to his sister’s family; my wife’s mother and father. He left clear instructions: if something were to happen to him, he wanted his sister and brother-in-law to step in and care for his family. Of course, they would have done so without question. But the fact that he made that move to make sure his wife and sons would be surrounded by love and support in case the unthinkable happened, speaks volumes. That kind of sacrifice isn’t flashy, but it’s profound. And that act had a lasting impact, my wife and her sisters grew up with their cousins like siblings, and the bond between the two families remains strong to this day. That’s the kind of man Ed was. Always thinking ahead. Always doing the hard thing, quietly, for the good of others. You don’t see that kind of character much anymore. But that’s what made his generation different.

One of Ed's sons gave a moving eulogy, and told us what we knew, that Ed was a man who sacrificed not just for his country, but for his family. For decades. And what gave his family comfort in those final days was knowing that Ed was a man of faith. A Christian man. He read his Bible. He loved God. And he lived out his faith in the way that matters most: not with showy religiosity, but with quiet strength, daily integrity and positivity, and unwavering commitment. He didn’t preach at people. He simply lived the kind of life that made people want to know what he believed.

And then there was this small but to me a striking moment in the eulogy: his son mentioned that Ed never left the house without a tie. In today’s world of Crocs and pajama pants in the grocery store and CEOs in hoodies, that may seem like a minor point. But it’s not. It speaks to a generation of men who believed that how you present yourself mattered. It wasn’t about vanity for them. It was about dignity. About respect. My dad was the same. It was about always striving to be your best, because that’s what men of Ed's generation did. Ed brought that mindset to everything: as a husband, as a father, as a serviceman, and as a businessman. There was no “good enough” with him. There was only, “Be the best you can be.” And even if you couldn’t be the best, by God, you’d better try to be the best you could possibly be. That was Ed. That was his generation.

During my years in corporate America and in government civil service with the Navy and even in high school and post-secondary education, I always noticed a pattern: the men and women who impressed me most, who were disciplined, level-headed, steady, wise; they were almost always veterans who had long military careers. There’s something about military service that forms a person in a way nothing else does. And for those of us who haven’t served, I think we instinctively know it. We can’t always describe it, but we see it. There’s a depth of character, a quiet strength, a perspective that doesn’t come from boardrooms or degrees. It’s forged through sacrifice, through brotherhood, through hardship and discipline of military service. You can’t teach it in a classroom. You can’t simulate it in a corporate workshop. And I dare say, there’s something uniquely American about it.

And through it all, Ed had a simple mantra: “The best is yet to come.” He said it often, and he meant it. That kind of optimism is contagious, especially when it comes from a man who’d walked through war, built a life from the ground up, and finished his race surrounded by the love of his family. And as a man of faith, he believed those words were true even in his final days. Because for him, the best truly was yet to come.

The most moving part of the memorial service, for me, was the military honors. Two young men in crisp Air Force dress blues slowly and reverently unfolded the American flag. Then came the solemn notes of “Taps,” echoing like a final goodbye. A rifle squad fired their salute, jarring in the best possible way. And then, with the same careful precision, the flag was refolded and presented. One of the Airmen knelt before Ed’s wife, looked her in the eye, and expressed the nation’s gratitude for her husband’s faithful service. It was a sacred moment, simple, dignified, unforgettable.

So today, while we honor our military service men and women and express our national gratitude, I hope we also remember the quiet heroes. The ones like Ed who never made the news, never wrote a book, never ran for office. The ones who served, then came home and kept serving: at dinner tables, in small businesses, on ballfields, and in the steady routines of family and faith.

Men like Uncle Ed, Edwin Mario Pacheco.

The loudest kind of heroism is often quiet. This Veteran's Day, I give thanks for men like Uncle Ed who lived it every day.

Joby Martin - This Generation's "Homer Lindsey, Jr." in Jacksonville

2025-10-17T11:55:00.000-04:00

Joby Martin is just about everywhere these days. He’s doing, what, five or more podcasts every week? My YouTube feed seems to think I’m on staff at Church of Eleven22 because it serves me new Joby clips daily. But I’ll be honest with you, I don’t skip them.

I’ve been watching pastors for more than thirty years. I’ve seen the good ones, the bad ones, and the phony-baloney ones who could sell ice to an Eskimo if it came with a church logo on it. And the more I see of Joby Martin, the more I appreciate the man.

Here’s one simple contrast between Joby and the last megachurch pastor I personally experienced (and many of you longtime readers know exactly who I’m talking about). Joby loves Jacksonville. He’s not using this city as a stepping-stone to a bigger stage or a book deal or his next mega gig. He's not here for the short-term. He came here to serve as a youth pastor at a small Baptist church in Jax Beach, and then the pastor there helped launch Joby to start 11:22, and he loves this town. I watched him recently on The Speakeasy podcast with Daniel Davis, and he talked about how much he loves this city; the people, the water, the weather, the hunting, the fishing, everything about it. He said he plans to stay here for the rest of his life. Imagine that: a megachurch pastor who actually wants to live among the people he’s serving.

That’s rare. Too many of these big-name guys parachute in from out of town, or they ride the tithes while they can, and bolt the minute the heat turns up or the money slows down. We’ve seen that play out right here in Jacksonville at multiple megachurches in the last 10 years. But Joby Martin? He reminds me of Homer Lindsay. And no, they’re far from carbon copies obviously, but both men share a genuine love for this city and its people and they are building a church to help the people in this city. Homer built FBC Jacksonville because he loved Jacksonville. Joby is doing the same thing in his own way at Eleven22 and he is absolutely crushing it.

He’s also a family man. You can hear it when he talks about his marriage and kids. There’s no fake piety or fake humility; just a dad and husband who loves his family and tries to lead by example. And the man can preach. Most megachurch preachers are fine as long as the sermon is scripted and the lights are perfect. But Joby shines best when he’s unscripted, when someone throws him a question about life or faith or wisdom, and he just talks. No pretense. No catchphrases. Just truth, delivered with heart and clarity. I guarantee you the typical megachurch showman can't do what Joby does. Most of these megachurch pastors are phony and empty vessels if you sit them down and make them answer questions and apply Christianity to everyday life.

We’ve had our share of pastors in Jacksonville who left wreckage behind: churches divided, reputations ruined, faith shaken. I don’t see that coming from Joby Martin. He’s grounded. He’s consistent. And, more importantly, he’s real.

So yes, I’ll say it again: Joby Martin is this generation’s Homer Lindsay.

We’ve got something special here in Jacksonville with Joby Martin and Church of 11:22.

Joby Martin Might Be the Real Deal — And That’s Saying Something in This Town

2025-05-19T13:41:00.004-04:00

Let me start with something you don't often hear on this blog: I'm impressed.

No, not the usual “megachurch-pastor-said-something-slick” kind of impressed. I mean genuinely, cautiously, “this-guy-might-actually-be-legit” impressed. And I’m talking about none other than Jacksonville’s own redneck revivalist—Pastor Joby Martin of Church of Eleven22.

Jacksonville has seen its share of frauds in megachurch pulpits. I've chronicled at least 10 of them on this blog. Money grubbers, sexual deviants, those who covered for and protected sexual deviants, and just plain off-your-rocker nutjobs - even one that used the church resources to build a hotel right next to the church that is family could run. It's time Jacksonville has a megachurch pastor that is legit.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve got another post in the works—almost finished—that dives into what Joby has accomplished in building one of the most explosive church movements this city has seen since the glory days of Homer Lindsay. That post will analyze the numbers, the reach, the culture, the empire. But before we even get to the empire, I need to pause and say this: the guy can preach.

And I don’t mean he can tell a good story and yank a few tears. I mean the guy can actually preach the Bible—without sounding like he’s been rehearsing in front of a mirror for six hours while sipping a caramel macchiato. He’s raw. He’s real. And oddly enough, he’s refreshingly redneck in all the best ways. You can tell he’s not trying to impress the seminary elites. He just genuinely wants to help people understand the Bible and apply it to their lives.

But what seals it for me—what separates Joby from the rest of the stage-act pulpiteers—is what he does after the sermon. You’ve got to watch the church's YouTube podcast called Deepen with Pastor Joby. Every week—usually posted the Monday after the weekend services—Joby sits down for a solid hour with one of his associate pastors (forgive me, I still don’t know the guy’s name, but he does a great job moderating), and often one or two other team members or guests. They talk through the sermon. Not just the three points and a poem, but the Scripture. It is conversational but not forced, and they're not jokesters trying to be hip and funny and cool. But neither are they super theological spiritual in the clouds. They try to apply Christianity to real life. All of it—with an open Bible and no notes.

It’s not fluff. It’s not show. It’s not a branding exercise. It’s the kind of pastoral unpacking and reflection that shows a man who understands what he preached, who knows how to expand on it without contradicting himself, and who’s genuinely interested in making sure the people at his church don’t just hear the Word—they get it. And I challenge you to find me any megachurch pulpiteer who can preach a 45-minute sermon and then sit down and talk about what he just preached as clearly and plainly as Joby. If you know of one, let me know.

I’ve watched a lot of megachurch pastors in my time. I’ve seen the ones who can strut across a stage, tell history lessons, impress with their dress, and hoot and holler and perform. I’ve seen the ones who turn every sermon into a TED Talk with a Bible verse stapled to the back end. But this is different. Joby isn’t up there trying to impress you—he’s trying to help you yet isn't afraid to offend you. And for that, he’s earned my respect.

Stay tuned—I’ve got a full breakdown coming soon on what he’s built at Church of Eleven22, why it matters, and why I think he just might be the closest thing Jacksonville’s seen to a modern-day Homer Lindsay, Jr. But for now, let’s give credit where it’s due.

Joby Martin can preach—and he does it for the right reasons.

When Fundamentalism Fails: Why a Matriarch Must Let Go to Hold the Family Together

2025-05-16T09:35:00.000-04:00

Let’s talk about something I should have included in my last post about the modern Christian matriarch—something I’ve seen firsthand, something that’s hurting families. It’s this: A true matriarch knows when it’s time to let go of religious fundamentalism.

Now I know, cue the gasps from the doctrinally pure Southern Baptists. I’ve heard the pushback before: “You’re not supposed to change your religious views just to accommodate your kids.” But let me tell you—when reality kicks you hard enough, when your theology collides with your family's experiences or your get a glimpse of some of the awful things religious fundamentalism brings about in churches—you begin to see how brittle fundamentalism really is. It’s not just unbending, it’s unlivable.

Here’s the truth. If your view of Christianity only works when everyone in the family turns out like you expected—then it was never grace, it was control.

I’ve seen this play out over and over again. In our extended family, as I mentioned the adult children have taken very different spiritual paths. Some have clung to the conservative traditions they grew up with. Others have swung in the opposite direction, embracing progressive theology—or perhaps no theology at all. And if a matriarch wants a seat at the table with all of them, she better be someone who leads with love, not litmus tests.

The smart matriarch doesn’t measure her children by what she hoped they’d become spiritually. She’s not sitting there evaluating their church attendance, their doctrinal purity, or whether they’re raising their kids with the same rules she raised them with. She’s simply glad they’re still around. Because if your adult kids feel judged, if they sense your continual disapproval—guess what? They won’t be around. Not emotionally. Not spiritually. And eventually, not physically either.

This is where the old guard - guys like Homer Lindsay and Jerry Vines - really did us no favors. Their favorite line was, “You either believe all of the Bible or none of it.” That kind of theological chest-thumping doctrinal purity might light up the gigglers and amen’ers at FBC Jax, but let’s be honest - it burns bridges faster than it builds faith. If that’s the framework you hand your kids, don’t act shocked when they eventually walk away from, well, all of it or most of it.

I’ve said this for years, and every time I do, the faithful hyperventilate and accuse me of “going liberal.” But this isn’t about my beliefs about the inerrancy of scripture - it’s about the box you hand your kids. When you tell them it’s all or nothing, most of them, in the quiet of their own hearts, just choose nothing. Not because they hate God. But because the version of faith they were offered left no room to question or doubt. All-or-nothing sounds noble in a sermon. But in real life, it’s just a great way to lose your kids.

A healthy matriarch, the kind who draws the family in, who becomes a spiritual anchor instead of a spiritual threat, understands that. She knows the difference between real faith and religious performance. She has the courage to evolve. Not to water things down, but to root her faith in something bigger than behavioral conformity. She makes space at the table. She listens. She doesn’t flinch when someone questions doctrine or has more liberal views. And she doesn’t lose sleep when her grown kids don’t parrot the religious party line of the SBC.

Because here’s the beautiful irony: once your children know that you love and respect them exactly where they are, they’re more likely to stick around and let you be part of their journey and maybe even let you influence it. As your adult kids have their own children, they will very likely return to more of their traditional religious views and norms if you've set an example of love for them and haven't pushed them away with your strict religious views.

But stay rigid? Stay judgmental? Stay anxious over religious views of your kids?

They may be gone.

So yes, let go. Relax your grip on your past fundamentalism. Not because your theology was never sincere. But because your children - and your relationships - matter more than your doctrinal checklist.

That’s what real spiritual maturity looks like.

That’s what a matriarch knows.

The Long Road, the Right Path: Honoring Yvette Rich

2025-05-15T02:01:00.010-04:00

Today, I want to share something deeply personal and meaningful—a tribute to someone who has quietly and faithfully made a difference for the past 17 years: my wife, Yvette Rich.

Yvette just retired from her role at Christian Family Chapel here in Jacksonville, Florida, where she served as a preschool assistant and as an interpreter for Spanish-speaking families navigating the preschool and ministry programs. She was a bridge for families, a calming presence for anxious kids, and a dependable face of love and consistency for nearly two decades. The parents knew it, the children felt it, and the ministry was better because of her time there. Yvette has a bachelor's degree in medical technology from the University of Florida, and before our family started she did work in that field, but in the last 17 years she chose to work with children at CFC.

The significance of her 17-year run at CFC isn’t lost on us—because it started in 2008. That was the same year First Baptist Jacksonville showed us both the door. If you’ve followed this blog, you know the story: I was the squeaky wheel blogging about problems - anonymously at first - that I thought were wrecking the church. And in doing so, I became persona non grata after my authorship of the blog was verified by underhanded means involving the city of Jacksonville and certain church leaders. Yvette, by simple proximity to me, for "associating" with me, paid the price too. We were both served trespass papers served personally by John Blount and Kevin King, and Yvette was prevented from stepping foot on the very church where she herself served in the youth and preschool ministry for over a decade and where we were members for over 20 years. One of her friends at church even insinuated that she should leave me because of my blog and my audacity of criticizing the church and outright mocking of the pastor. But Yvette didn’t. She stood strong and stayed by my side through what became a difficult three-year-long legal battle. She remained faithful—to God, to her family, and to the truth. We were and are still so grateful for her friends who DID stand by her side and supported her - they know who they are.

And now, nearly two decades later, we can both look back and say: we not only survived—we thrived.

Yvette spent 17 years building serving quietly and faithfully Christian Family Chapel after getting the right boot of disfellowship at her church. She now moves into a new season—helping care for our grandchildren, all of whom live right here in Jacksonville and are doing exceptionally well, age 0 to 8. She will be even more present in their lives, just as she has been in the lives of so many little ones through her work. This is a new ministry now—one of legacy, of impact, and of presence.

We have no bitterness toward FBC Jax. In fact, Yvette and I have visited the church several times this past year and reconnected with some old friends. I’ve met with and had a long conversation with Heath Lambert, the current pastor. We swapped stories of what happened when we were kicked out, and his journey in becoming the senior pastor and that awful process he endured, some of which he has chronicled on YouTube. We discussed what he saw at FBC Jax when he arrived around 2016 or so, and some of what I blogged consistently about back between 2007 and 2012. Heath offered a heartfelt apology on behalf of the church for how both of us were treated. He even extended the offer to apologize to Yvette personally. That meant something. Over the years, other pastors and deacons have reached out with similar sentiments—some even admitting that while they didn’t always agree with my approach, they did come to realize I was right about what was happening to the church.

The house of cards many refused to acknowledge eventually fell. But I take no pleasure in that. I do, however, appreciate Heath Lambert for doing the hard and costly work of fixing what needed to be fixed - he too had to endure some mighty dirty tricks and slander to fix what needed to be fixed. He inherited a mess and did the right thing for the church and it seems FBC Jax is on the right track.

Looking back, we clearly see God’s hand through it all. What felt like a painful exile in 2008 turned out to be the opening of a new path in so many ways. Our faith today is deeper—not the rigid, fundamentalist version we once held, but something real, tested, and enduring. That shift wasn’t easy, especially for Yvette. While I had already begun to question aspects of our old mindset as the events at our church unfolded, it was a longer, more painful process for her. Letting go of that religious framework takes courage and time—but she did it, and she did it with grace and our entire family is better for the journey.

So today, I offer praise and a tip of the hat to Yvette. She stayed faithful when some perhaps would have walked away during a very painful, public shaming process. She took the pain of rejection and turned it into a mission of service. She walked the long road with grace and strength—and now she gets to enjoy the fruits of a life well lived.

Still married to the Watchdog. Still standing. Still thriving. Four grandkids. Faith intact. And a story that turned out far better than the script they tried to write for us.

Congratulations, Yvette. You finished one race—and now, the best part begins.

Staying Relevant in Your Adult Kid's Lives: A Mother's Day Tribute!

2025-05-11T08:31:00.000-04:00

One thing I’ve learned as I head into my 60s is this: if you’re in your older years, nearing retirement perhaps, and you want to stay relevant in your kids’ and grandkids' lives—you’re going to have to work for it. Being relevant in your own family doesn’t just happen. You don’t get grandfathered in. It takes intention. It takes showing up. And it takes a certain humility to keep adapting as your role in the family changes.

That’s something I’ve always admired about my mother. Now in her 80s, she’s still an incredibly relevant person in my life day to day. And that’s not an accident—it’s the result of her commitment to staying connected to all of us. After my dad passed earlier this year, that connection feels more important than ever.

She didn’t just sit back and hope she’d stay in our orbit. She lived it. She stayed nearby. Gainesville, then St. Augustine for almost 20 years, and now—finally—15 minutes down the road in Jacksonville. Closer than ever. We see her weekly, not out of obligation, but because we want to. She’s still part of the fabric of our lives. And she made sure of that.

It’s easy to imagine these kinds of long-term relationships “just happening”—but they don’t. They require a level of personal investment that few people are willing to make. Life has a way of drifting people apart. But not my mom. She planted herself close, literally and emotionally. She built relationships with my kids. Now she has real, meaningful connections with her great-grandkids. That’s what I want for myself in my older years—to stay relevant, stay connected, and still matter in the lives of my family.

Of course we all know, the role of a parent doesn’t end—it just changes. And if you don’t learn to grow with it, you risk becoming background noise in your own family. You can’t parent 30-year-olds the way you parented 13-year-olds. But you can still guide. You can still encourage. You can still influence—if you’re willing to let go of control and lean into connection. The most impactful parents I know in their older years are the ones who’ve learned to become wise friends, not constant critics. They don’t smother, but they don’t disappear either. They listen more. They support and encourage more. They adapt to technology to stay connected. And when they speak truth, it lands—because it comes from love, not control.

And let’s not sanitize this story with flowers and inspirational quotes. My mom was tough. She was a disciplinarian, and we knew not to cross her. There was just the right amount of fear in our house. Say “God darn it”? Get your mouth washed out with Coast soap. Test the boundaries too far? The belt was an option - actually the belt was dad, maybe for my mom it was the hair brush as I recall. But I never questioned her love for us. Her discipline shaped me—and honestly, it’s something too many families have lost.

I also learned from her how to evolve. How to go from being a parent to being a friend. All three of my kids are now in their 30s, and we have that kind of relationship now—where we can joke, laugh, and just enjoy each other’s company. We enjoy traveling together. I learned that from watching my mom. She never stopped being present. Never stopped cheering us on. Never lost that balance between telling you the truth and still being in your corner.

She’s a Midwesterner—raised in Coldwater, Michigan—and you can tell. Down-to-earth. No-nonsense. Full of common sense and not afraid to speak her mind. That came from her parents, and she passed it down to us. That’s the kind of grit and honesty I value most in people. She always managed to speak the truth, but with love. She walked that tightrope between encourager and truth-teller, and she did it masterfully—with us, with our spouses, and with the grandkids.

My mom has always made herself the kind of person people want to be around. And now, in her later years, she’s reaping the benefits of that. She’s surrounded by family, by people who love and respect her, who enjoy her company—not because they have to, but because she’s still relevant. She still matters.

So thank you, Mom. For raising me right. For not pulling punches. For loving us well, and showing us what it really means to live a life that stays connected—across decades, across generations. You taught us that meaning isn’t found in distance or retirement or checking out. It’s found in living life together.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Happy Mother's Day to the Matriarchs!

2025-05-09T19:21:00.002-04:00

I've written several Mother's Day articles over the years as the Watchdog. This one is about what makes a mother into a matriarch of her family. This is a tribute to the Christian matriarchs of their families.

But this is a post about what I consider the real Christian matriarchs, the ones who have lived through the collapse of a fundamentalist fantasy, have the scars to prove it, and still lead their families with grit, grace, and an unsentimental grasp on reality. They’ve held on to their faith, but unlike many still trapped between rigid fundamentalism and real-world logic, they can tell the difference between genuine spirituality and religious nonsense.

Let’s start here: a matriarch isn’t a title a woman gets for enduring menopause or hitting grandma status. They've earned it. And my wife—though she never campaigned for the role—has become the matriarch of our family and our extended family. Not by throwing around Bible verses or acting holier-than-thou or living in a spiritual fantasy world like so many others, but by being a Christian woman grounded in deep faith in God but also grounded in cold hard truth.

See, as I said at the start, real Christian matriarchs live in reality. Not in a fantasy where you raise your kids in church, ship them off to youth camp, make sure they have their “quiet time,” and then magically they grow up into mini-me fundamentalists. That formula doesn't work, as we and almost all of our friends with whom we went to church in Gainesville and Jacksonville have found out. It never really worked. And the women who’ve ascended to true matriarch status are the ones who had the strength to accept this reality—and didn’t lose their minds or their faith when it all went off-script.

My wife has watched kids in our family and extended family grow up and chart different spiritual paths. None turned out exactly like the FBC Jax formula predicted. But she never let that undo her. I’ve seen women paralyzed with guilt and grief and even fear, because their kids didn’t turn out as zealous as the FBC Jax youth pastor might have predicted. For some it wrecked their joy, strained their marriages, and turned them into walking testimonies of religious anxiety. But not my wife. She knows real faith is a relationship with Jesus—not a checklist of doctrinal loyalty and not in measuring her kids by a fundamentalist checklist. And she’s at peace with where her kids are in their own spiritual journey. That’s what real matriarchs do: they stay steady when the script changes.

Now, here’s something else about a real matriarch: she doesn’t confuse religious mania for spiritual maturity. She’s not dazzled by the seemingly most spiritual person who claims they “feel led” every time they make a terrible life decision. She doesn’t fall for the pious performances of those around her. In fact, she knows when someone is slapping a Bible verse on top of selfishness and calling it righteousness. She knows the difference between a mental health issue and what others like to dress up as “spiritual maturity.” And here’s the kicker—she’s not afraid to say it out loud. Even when friends and family whisper that she’s “less spiritual” for refusing to play along with the latest bout of holy-sounding nonsense, she’s unfazed. She sleeps just fine without the approval of the pious. In fact, she laughs now—at the fundamentalist craziness we used to swallow whole, and at the things the hyper-spiritual crowd still treat as untouchable and sacred.

And let’s be clear: a matriarch does not coddle nonsense in her family. She doesn’t get bullied by her adult kids, and she doesn’t pretend her screw-up son is “just struggling” when he’s actually burning his life and others' lives to the ground. A matriarch sees reality, calls it out, and sets boundaries for herself and her husband. She’s got the backbone to say, “I love you, but I won’t enable you.” She knows the difference between love and enabling, unlike so many Christians we've seen recently who think tolerating bad behavior is somehow Christlike and loving. I know "tough love" is cliche', but it is sorely needed these days, and a matriarch will deliver it when needed.

A true matriarch also knows how to work and is not afraid of work. My wife has worked in a Christian preschool for over 20 years—not full-time, but still serving faithfully every year. Year after year, she’s poured into kids and families, often serving as a Spanish translator for immigrant families desperate for someone to help them navigate a new system. She’s never made a big deal about it, but her quiet, consistent love changed lives. That’s work. That’s ministry. That’s what a matriarch does—she doesn’t sit back waiting for the family to worship her but she puts her hands to something meaningful and gets the job done.

And now, as she steps into what others might call retirement, she’s doing the exact opposite of retiring. She’s doubling down—pouring herself into her grandkids, providing friendship and support to her children, and caring for aging parents and others close to her who need her help. She's not unplugging from life and taking a sabbatical. She's leaning in. She's becoming even more essential to those she loves. That’s what a matriarch does. She multiplies her impact when others would be shrinking it.

So this Mother’s Day, save the frilly tributes. If you know a woman like my wife, tell her thank you. She didn’t become the matriarch by asking for it. She became one by showing up, speaking truth, and never letting religious nonsense rob her of her mind—or her family.

And Lord knows our families and this world need more women like that.

BREAKING: Bikini Bottom Elects New Pope — All Hail Pope Bob SquarePants

2025-05-08T13:52:00.000-04:00

In a historic turn of events deep beneath the sea - with white spoke emanating from the Krusty Krab - the humble underwater town of Bikini Bottom has announced the appointment of its newest spiritual leader: none other than the absorbent, yellow, and newly-anointed Pope Bob SquarePants.

Yes, it’s official. After a chaotic and soggy conclave convened at the Krusty Krab—redecorated with seashell banners and jellyfish incense—the fishy faithful have reached a consensus. It wasn’t easy. In true Bikini Bottom fashion, the process was as bizarre as it was unholy.

The Sea-nod of the Century

The papal selection, dubbed The Great Coral Conclave, was officiated by none other than Patrick Star. The pink theologian, who once confused a jellyfish for the Holy Spirit, donned his ceremonial swim trunks and led the congregation in an extended debate filled with bubble chants, kelp communion, and several breaks for snack time.

The nomination of SpongeBob was first floated by Sandy Cheeks, who praised his “unshakable optimism,” “infinite grace under pressure,” and most importantly, his “complete inability to hold a grudge, even against Plankton.” But not everyone was immediately on board.

Enter: Cardinal Squidward

Squidward Tentacles, playing the role of chief theologian of bitter realism, protested the idea on artistic grounds, claiming, “SpongeBob lacks the gravitas required for papal responsibility. And besides, he still can’t make a decent clarinet solo.” For hours, he filibustered with monologues about “institutional dignity” and “the sacredness of silence.”

But, alas, the fishy flock needed a leader. One who would unify the town, bless the patties, and lead Bikini Bottom through troubling times—like the upcoming annual Sea Bear migration or Mr. Krabs' next price hike.

After a heartfelt speech by Gary the Snail (translated by Sandy), and a surprise musical interlude led by Pearl and the Undersea Gospel Choir, Squidward reluctantly gave his blessing. “Fine,” he said. “But only if I get to redesign the papal vestments.”

The First Decrees of Pope Bob Squarepants

Upon his official coronation—marked by a jellyfish landing on his head and refusing to leave—Pope Bob SquarePants issued his first ex cathedra pronouncements:

Thou shalt not eat the Krabby Patty Secret Formula without tithing a pickle.
Mandatory weekly confessions at Goo Lagoon, followed by beach volleyball.
A new sacred holiday: Opposite Day Eve, to be celebrated with underwater Gregorian yodeling.
All dirty bubbles are now considered heretical and subject to exorcism.

Sources say SpongeBob wept spongey tears of joy, proclaiming, “I’m ready… to lead the people of Bikini Bottom in love, service, and perfectly symmetrical jellyfish nets!”

What’s Next for Bikini Bottom?

Pope Bob is expected to move into the recently blessed Vaticoral Palace, just next door to his pineapple. Meanwhile, Plankton has already launched an alternative denomination, “The First Reformed Chum-Believers,” with Karen as his high priestess. It's unclear how successful it will be, given the smell.

The citizens of Bikini Bottom seem cautiously optimistic. Even Mr. Krabs, who initially opposed the election on the grounds that “popes don’t pay taxes,” has since come around—once Pope Bob promised indulgences in the form of buy-one-get-one-free Krabby Patties.

As Pope Bob SquarePants raises his spatula-turned-scepter and blesses his aquatic congregation, one thing is clear: the Church of the Holy Bubble has never been in better (or weirder) hands.

Amen!

Watchdog is Back...Got a Few Things to Share!

2025-05-01T13:23:00.000-04:00

Well, look who’s back. That’s right—after a long sabbatical filled with thinking, observing, reflecting (and biting my tongue more times than I care to admit), the Watchdog is logging back in. I’ve been out of the game for a while, but I’ve never stopped watching. And more importantly, I’ve never stopped thinking. About what it means to leave the baggage of fundamentalism without abandoning the basics of Christianity. About what it looks like to be a common-sense Christian in a world where the loudest voices are often the most toxic. I’ve got stories. I’ve got scars. I’ve seen things—some ugly, some inspiring, and all of it worth unpacking.

But here’s the twist—and it might shock a few of you—I’m not just here to torch the usual suspects. Sure, there might be a few well-deserved snark aimed at the pulpit showmen and their latest tithing gimmicks, but I’ve also seen some surprisingly good stuff out there. Believe it or not, there are a few pastors I want to lift up. Some who are doing it right and have seemingly learned from the previous generation of showman that I've highlighted on this blog. A couple of them even run those dreaded megachurches—and no, I’m not joking.

So if you’re expecting nothing but fire and brimstone aimed at every preacher with a fog machine or a megachurch, you might be disappointed. The Watchdog is back, but this time, he’s also got a few biscuits to hand out. Weekly posts start now. I'll be sure to make a few of you mad on all sides of modern Christianity, I'm sure.

Want to Know Where the Church Money is Going? You Have "The Spirit of the Devil".

2025-04-01T16:28:00.000-04:00

Church members, whatever you do, don’t ask where the money goes. That’s a dead giveaway you’ve got the spirit of the devil—at least according to Pastor Joby Martin over at The Church of 11:22 in Jacksonville.

Yes, I know—it might be out of context, but I didn’t clip this together that way… they did. So go ahead, enjoy the show. Just don’t ask about the budget, unless you're cool with being in the sermon illustration next Sunday.

A Repost of a Tribute to Tiffany Thigpen

2024-02-10T11:13:00.003-05:00

Tiffany Thigpen certainly has been making a difference in SBC circles the past few years as the SBC leadership has been exposed for covering up abuse. I want to remind people who visit this blog and that are active on Twitter in this fight, that Tiffany was fighting the fight of holding pastors accountable who abuse people way, way before anyone else was with the exception of perhaps Christa Brown.

Tiffany took the arrows and scorn - and threats - from so many people in Jacksonville in 2007 when she dared to stand up for the victims of Darrell Gilyard. And what did she get for her efforts? A subpoena allowing her personal information to be released to a Jacksonville Sheriff's Office (JSO) detective who worked for FBC Jacksonville, and who also conveniently was on the Discipline Committe of FBC Jacksonville who didn't like this blog or Tiffany's blog. This subpoena started a five-year long legal battle between myself and FBC Jax and the city of Jacksonville, the JSO, and the State Attorney's Office, ending in two successful lawsuits settled out of court.

I thought I'd repost here on the front page my tribute from 15 years ago expressing my gratitude to Tiffany Thigpen for her efforts in putting behind bars Darrel Gilyard, one of the biggest frauds to hit the SBC circuit, a man who has abused countless women in churches from here to Texas and who knows where else.

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It is absolutely amazing what Tiffany Thigpen Croft, a local Christian wife and mother, armed with only a blog and the power of free speech and her faith in God, has been able to accomplish. Tiffany has done what most baptist pastors in this city were too cowardly to do. And she didn't have a budget, a PR firm, or any position of power in the city of Jacksonville.

Tiffany reported on her blog this weekend that Darrell Gilyard, former pastor of Shiloh Metropolitan Baptist Church, has agreed to a plea bargain in his case involving lews and lascivious conduct against a 14-year old. This is very good news - according to Tiffany, Gilyard has admitted guilt, and will serve 3 years in a state prison, and will carry the "sexual predator" label for the rest of his life. This plea bargain will save the horrific ordeal of a public trial and his victims having to testify.

Tiffany had her faith and a deep conviction that a person standing for truth and justice COULD make a difference. She started a blog to call out an abusive pastor in this city, and demanded justice - and she encouraged victims to come out. She used her blog as a vehicle for victims to share their stories. Information provided to Tiffany via her blog was shared with the State Attorney's office, and this aided their investigation.

Tiffany started her blog about the Gilyard case back in December 2007 when this news about Gilyard's abuse at Shiloh first broke. Tiffany was brave enough to come forward and share her testimony of how Gilyard tried to seduce her as an 18-year old back in the early 1990's when she was at First Baptist Jacksonville. She shared how Gilyard operated, what his sickening tactics were - and no doubt this caused other victims to recognize they weren't alone, and needn't be ashamed to come forward, that this guy was a monster who had preyed on many others.

Wade Burleson has written an excellent article on his blog about Tiffany, "Walking Where SBC Leaders Fail to Tread". It is true that many SBC leaders back in the 1990's who supported Gilyard and helped him to his meteoric rise - they absolutely failed to keep this man out of any positions of power - and their silence since Gilyard's arrest has been deafening. Thank the Lord that Tiffany wasn't trying to avoid controversy or wasn't afraid of being labeled as a troublemaker - she spoke the truth, and called for others to stand with her, and she took the arrows that came her way. Tiffany didn't complain about the attacks against her from people supporting Gilyard, she maintained a spirit of love, always expressing a desire for healing for Gilyard's victims and for repentence and justice in Gilyard's life.

And most importantly, Tiffany didn't cave into those cowardly voices that told her that her blog was harming the cause of Christ, that it was beauty-shop gossip and should be shut down. No way - Tiffany stood strong, knew that truth was on her side, and she KNEW that God was pleased with what she was doing. You see, for far too long, people inside baptist churches have been afraid to call public attention to abusers, especially pastors. They have used the illogical excuse that to do so would harm Christianity - that people would be turned away from Christ if light were shone on the abuses of pastors, that things should be kept quiet. They've even used lame excuses like the pastor is God's man, and "touch not thine annointed", or "just let God handle it."

The realilty was back in December 2007, God WAS handling this matter, and to help Him accomplish His will, God was looking for someone in Jacksonville. Not someone to hush it up, but to rise up and call for justice. God was looking for someone to shine the light on Gilyard to help bring about justice and healing. To call for others to demand justice. To encourage others who had been abused by Gilyard to come forward.

And He found Tiffany.

And Tiffany said "Yes, Lord".

Thank you, Tiffany.

What REALLY Happened at FBCJ

2023-12-16T15:01:00.003-05:00

Stay tuned for some updates! Series coming on what REALLY went down at FBCJ that decimated the church a few years back. It was ugly, it was sordid, so much worse than what Heath described in his recent podcast series.

I have a lot of respect for Heath in being generous with those who made his life a living hell as he had to clean up the mess left at FBCJ.

But it is a story to be told.

The New FBCJ Watchdog

Sometimes the Wheels Just Come Off....

2020-05-05T23:19:00.000-04:00

Wheels Fall Off F1 GIF from Wheelsfalloff GIFs

Long Day Wheels Coming Off GIF from Longday GIFs

Paige Patterson: "Those With Whom Darrel (Gilyard) Sinned are Not Innocent Either"

2019-06-20T00:47:00.002-04:00

Over the past two days, Vimeo videos have surfaced of the July 10th, 1991 Victory Baptist Church (TX) congregational meeting led by Paige Patterson, in which Darrell Gilyard resigned after having admitting to Patterson privately that he had committed various sexual sins.

There is plenty in these two videos that will sicken the viewer, when they are watched in the context of all we know about Gilyard and Patterson - the years leading up to this meeting, and the two decades after the meeting.

But the one part that I want to highlight is the following Patterson statement after Gilyard finishes and leaves the room:

"So there is a certain degree to which a man who stands behind this sacred desk is held to a higher standard, that's true. But it is also equally true, precious people, that a sin is a sin no matter who commits it. Nobody committed any of these sins in innocency. Brother Darrell was not innocent, those with whom he sinned are not innocent either."

Instead of Patterson scolding Gilyard for failing to apologize to the women and their families that he had abused, Patterson decided to further harm these women by imposing upon them a verdict of "guilty", that their guilt matches that of their abuser Gilyard. Only trouble is that Gilyard was a predator and these women were his victims. According to the Dallas Morning News, one of the women claimed Gilyard raped her. Others described how Gilyard would pursue them, begging one of them to meet him at a hotel. No need to shame these women, but in so doing I believe Patterson showed where his heart was: harboring resentment for these women who he believed caused his blessed son to fall to temptation.

I'm hoping that a video of the remaining portion of the meeting will also be posted, as the second one cuts off right after the above statement by Patterson.

We all know now, that Gilyard was a fraud, a charlatan. But trust me, Patterson had plenty of knowledge of Gilyard's actions well before this night that should have told him Gilyard was an outright fraud and any attempt to concoct a plan and timetable of restoration would be short-circuited by Gilyard, which is exactly what happened. But Gilyard was just too darned talented of a speaker - he could draw a crowd, and make people laugh and cry and get out their wallets. So he had to be salvaged.

And who is the hostage-looking figure who escorted Gilyard to the platform and stood to his right? My best guess is that it is Danny Aiken.

Here are links to the videos:

Video #1 (Patterson's Opening Statement)

Video #2 (Gilyard's Statement, Patterson's follow-up)

Click here to peruse prior FBC Jax Watchdog blog articles related to Gilyard.

Removed SWBTS Stained-Glass Windows Offered to Catholic Church Notre Dame Re-Build Effort

2019-04-20T11:14:00.003-04:00

Paris, France (WD Press) - In a stunning move of solidarity and generosity, the Southern Baptist Convention has offered to the Catholic Church the recently removed stained-glass windows of famous SBC preachers at their Southwest Baptist Theological Seminary, to support the Catholic church's efforts to rebuild the Notre Dame cathedral.

Although the most famous rose windows in the cathedral survived the fire, officials say the rebuild effort may require replacement glass.

Catholic officials were considering the stained glass windows of Paige Patterson, Jerry Vines, Ed Young, Paul Pressler, and FBC Jax Watchdog - but have opted only for Paul Pressler's stained glass image, for reasons that were not explained.

A spokesperson for SWBTS said that although Jerry Vines' glass was under consideration by the Catholic church, the glass has already been installed in Jerry's private study at his home in Georgia and thus unavailable for the cathedral.

Editor's Note: Students at SWBTS have reportedly begun a petition to preserve FBC Jax Watchdog's stained glass and keep it where it was originally installed, in the window above the last stall in the men's bathroom on the 2nd floor of the Ergun Mehmet Giovanni Caner Center for Truth in Debating. This report is still being investigated.

Christian Lawyer: I’m Getting Lots of Calls from Pastors Worried About Reporting Abuse and Effects on Church Membership

2018-06-05T10:38:00.001-04:00

On the May 29th “Rainer on Leadership” podcast, Thom Rainer interviewed Josh Bryant, an Arkansas attorney who helps churches and pastors with general legal assistance.

Bryant provided some very helpful information about how churches are to protect themselves legally in five areas of law. The last topic discussed on the podcast was “child protection and mandated reporting.” Bryant said this is the “number one” issue for which churches end up in court.

But here is the alarming statement by Bryant:

“I’m getting a lot of calls [to his practice] saying ‘listen, if I report this, I have 70 people in my church, if I report this and they find out I reported it, I might lose 5 or 6 families and then my church gets cut in half.’ And I understand and have a whole lot of sympathy for that particular situation but there’s criminal liability for a mandated reporter not to report suspected child abuse.”

Pretty sad to think even in this day and age pastors and church members are still calling lawyers on advice as to whether they should report suspected child abuse to the authorities, expressing concern that they might lose church members if they report! I’m not sure I share Bryant’s sympathy for those “situations”.

So if you suspect child abuse at your church:

Don’t take it to the Lord in prayer.

Don’t take it to the pastor or deacons.

Don’t take it up wit da book.

You don’t even need to call a lawyer.

Take it to the police or child protective services.

Watchdog Gets His Own Stained Glass

2018-05-19T00:51:00.000-04:00

This is one of my favorite posts, an April Fool's Day post from 2014, and with all the discussion of Patterson and Pressler recently I felt compelled to repost it. Enjoy.

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Paige Patterson has announced that one of the 70 stained glass windows to be installed in the new J.W. MacGorman Chapel at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary will feature the "old recalcitrant fleabag", FBC Jax Watchdog.

The window will feature a round, forward-facing, medallion-style inscription of the Watchdog with a slightly protruding tongue to represent his tireless efforts in blogging about important matters in the SBC and modern evangelicalism. The inscription on the window will read "He blogged from his mother's basement", with a beautiful oval globe to represent the Watchdog's world-wide outreach and to honor how God can use even a seemingly insignificant blogger to spread the truth to so many who need to hear it - all over the world.

The inscription of "He blogged from his mother's basement" is a reference to Ergun Caner and others who have unfairly criticized bloggers as being "frustrated people blogging from their mother's basements." Some have even accused bloggers of writing blogs in their underwear, which the Watchdog has vehemently denied since as he says "..dogs don't generally wear undergarments."

Already there have been nine of the windows installed in the chapel, including W.A. Criswell baptizing a man in the Jordan River while wearing a well-pressed blazer and tie, O.S. Hawkins and his wife, Rick Warren (shown at right), Charles Stanley, Andy and Joan Horner, and Huber Drumright, Jr.

SWBTS student reaction to the announcement of the new FBC Jax Watchdog window was mixed. One student said that no troublemaker like the Watchdog should be inscribed in stained glass - while another student - who wished to remain anonymous - said "Well, I guess if they're going to give a window to Andy Horner and Huber Drumright and Dottie Riley - none of whom I've ever heard of - why not the FBC Jax Watchdog for all he has done to hold misbehaving churches and pastors accountable in the 21st century?"

When asked why the Watchdog would be given such an honor, Patterson said he respects the Watchdog's blogging efforts and his tenacity to endure trials and hardships and efforts to "shut him down", even though he said with a hearty chuckle, "The old fleabag recalcitrant has busted my chops a few times over the past 7 years." Watchdog first wrote about Paige Patterson in 2007 when Patterson called Watchdog and others at his home church "recalcitrants" in the old SWBTS chapel for attacking the "man of God". Watchdog also wrote in 2008 about the Sheri Klouda firing at SWBTS and some of the public statements made by prominent SBC preachers.

The exact location of the FBC Jax Watchdog window within the chapel is yet to be determined. Patterson said it will likely be in the Ergun Mehmet Giovanni Caner Center for Truth in Debating, or perhaps in the window above the last stall in the men's bathroom on the 2nd floor.