02/13/2026
I’m a pastor. I’ve preached over 1,000 sermons.
And last Sunday, after my sermon on Romans 5, someone asked me to explain what I just preached—and I realized I couldn’t.
Sunday morning.
I’d just finished preaching on justification by faith.
Good sermon.
People nodded.
Said “Amen.”
After the service, a college student approached me.
Sarah. Philosophy major.
“Pastor, what does justification actually mean? Like, what’s happening?”
“It means we’re made right with God through Jesus.”
“But how?” she asked.
“Is God making us righteous or declaring us righteous? And if He’s declaring it, how is that not a legal fiction?”
I paused.
Twenty years of preaching.
I couldn’t explain the difference between justification and sanctification.
“It’s complex, Sarah. Let me get back to you.”
She smiled politely.
I knew.
She wasn’t coming back.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I pulled out sermon notes.
Twenty years of sermons on justification.
I’d been preaching about justification without understanding it.
I knew the verses.
I knew the application: “Trust Jesus, not your works.”
I didn’t understand the theology.
The mechanism.
The why.
I Googled.
Found seminary papers filled with language I didn’t fully grasp.
I have a Master of Divinity.
And I was struggling to understand basic doctrine.
The next morning, I called my mentor.
Pastor Tom. Forty years in ministry.
I told him about Sarah.
Long pause.
“Mike,” he said, “I couldn’t explain that either. Seminary taught us homiletics, not apologetics. We learned how to preach, not how to think theologically.”
I hung up feeling worse.
That Sunday, I looked at my congregation differently.
Two hundred people.
Nodding.
Taking notes.
How many actually understood what I was teaching?
Youth group: fifteen kids.
Six left for college last year.
Five stopped attending church within three months.
What if I was sending them out with verses but no foundation?
Two weeks later, I was at a Christian bookstore.
Standing in front of apologetics books.
William Lane Craig.
Lee Strobel.
Trying to figure out which one could help me explain basic doctrine.
That’s when I heard a conversation behind me.
A mother with her teenage son.
Maybe thirteen.
“Okay,” she said, “explain justification versus sanctification.”
The kid didn’t pause.
“Justification is God declaring us righteous based on Christ’s righteousness. It’s forensic—like a legal verdict. It’s instant and complete the moment we believe. Sanctification is God making us righteous through the Holy Spirit. It’s progressive—over our lifetime. Justification changes our position before God. Sanctification changes our practice. Justification is once-for-all. Sanctification is ongoing.”
I stood there stunned.
This thirteen-year-old just explained doctrine better than I could.
I turned around.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt. What is he studying?”
The mom smiled.
“Systematic theology workbook for kids. We do it every Sunday after church.”
“I’m… I’m a pastor,” I said.
“And I just listened to your son explain theology better than I can.”
She didn’t seem surprised.
“A lot of the reviews are from pastors and church leaders,” she said.
“Seminary teaches you how to preach, not always how to think theologically.”
Her son added,
“It’s not complicated. It just needs to be explained clearly. Last week we did the hypostatic union. Next week is penal substitutionary atonement.”
“And you understand that?”
“Yeah. It makes sense when someone breaks it down.”
I bought the workbook that afternoon.
When I got home, my wife looked at it.
“Isn’t that for kids?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you need it?”
“Because after twenty years of preaching, I realized I can quote verses but I can’t explain theology. And I’m tired of losing people like Sarah because I don’t have answers.”
That Sunday, I started Lesson 1: Evidence God Exists.
Not “the Bible tells us so.”
The Cosmological Argument.
The Teleological Argument.
The Moral Argument.
Clear.
Step by step.
I went to seminary.
Took systematic theology courses.
And I had never understood these arguments this clearly.
Week 3: The Trinity.
Not “it’s a mystery beyond understanding.”
An actual explanation.
One God in essence.
Three persons.
Why it matters.
For the first time in twenty years of ministry, I understood the Trinity well enough to defend it.
Week 7: Justification vs. Sanctification.
Sarah’s question.
Justification: God’s declaration. Legal.
Sanctification: God’s transformation. Experiential.
Justification: Instant.
Sanctification: Progressive.
Justification: Position.
Sanctification: Practice.
I sat there with tears in my eyes.
This was what I should have told Sarah.
This was what I should have known after two decades of ministry.
Week 12, I preached on Romans 6.
But this time, I didn’t just explain what Paul said.
I explained why it’s true.
How it works.
What it means.
After the sermon, three people came up to me.
“Pastor, that was different.”
“I’ve been here fifteen years and finally understand justification.”
“Why haven’t we heard it explained like that before?”
My associate pastor pulled me aside.
“Mike, what changed? That was the clearest theological explanation I’ve ever heard you give.”
I showed him the workbook.
He looked at the cover.
“Systematic Theology for Kids?”
“I know how it looks,” I said.
“But it’s clearer than anything we got in seminary.”
He flipped through it.
“Can I borrow this?”
Three months later, our entire staff is going through it together.
Youth pastor.
Worship pastor.
Children’s director.
Me.
Every Tuesday morning.
One lesson per week.
Last month, our youth pastor said something that hit me hard.
“I’ve been teaching teenagers for eight years. And I just realized I’ve been teaching them to memorize verses—not to think theologically.”
He’s right.
That’s what we all did.
Week 28, Sarah came back to church.
Home for spring break.
After the service, she approached me.
“Pastor Mike, can we talk?”
“Of course.”
“I wanted to apologize. Last semester when you couldn’t answer my question, I kind of used that as an excuse to stop coming. I told myself if the pastor doesn’t know, maybe none of it’s true.”
“Sarah, you don’t need to apologize. You asked a fair question. I should’ve had an answer.”
She hesitated.
“Well… can you try explaining it now?”
I did.
Justification vs. sanctification.
Forensic vs. progressive.
Position vs. practice.
She listened carefully.
“That makes so much more sense,” she said.
“Why didn’t you explain it like that the first time?”
“Because I didn’t understand it well enough. I do now.”
“What changed?”
I showed her the workbook.
She laughed.
“You’re using a kids’ theology workbook?”
“I’m using the clearest explanation of theology I’ve found in twenty years of ministry. Truth doesn’t care about the format.”
She smiled.
“Can you send me the link? I think I need it too.”
Last Sunday, I preached on substitutionary atonement.
Years ago, I would’ve said,
“Jesus died for our sins. He took our punishment.”
This time, I explained why Jesus had to die.
Why God couldn’t just forgive without payment.
How justice and mercy meet at the cross.
Why Jesus had to be fully God and fully man.
After the service, a man who’s attended for twenty years said,
“I’ve heard dozens of sermons on the cross. That’s the first time I actually understood the theology.”
I thought about that.
Twenty years preaching the cross without explaining the theology.
Twenty years giving verses without foundations.
Twenty years losing college students because I couldn’t answer basic questions.
Here’s what I wish someone had told me in seminary:
Knowing how to preach is not the same as understanding theology.
Quoting verses is not the same as defending doctrine.
Teaching the what without the why is not discipleship—it’s information transfer.
If you’re a pastor…
If you’re a church leader…
If you’ve been preaching for years but can’t explain doctrine when someone pushes back…
I need you to know:
It’s not too late.
Your degree doesn’t make you too advanced.
Your pride doesn’t matter more than your people’s faith.
What matters is whether you’re equipping them to survive intellectual challenge.
I spent twenty years preaching sermons people couldn’t defend.
Sending teenagers to college with verses they couldn’t explain.
Losing Sarah because I couldn’t answer a basic question.
That workbook is still on my desk.
Covered in notes.
Highlighted.
Bookmarked.
Right next to my seminary textbooks.
Fifty-two weeks of systematic theology made me a better pastor than twenty years of ministry.
Because truth explained clearly is more powerful than credentials defended poorly.
Before the next Sarah walks away.
Before you lose another college student.
Before you preach another sermon you can’t defend.
Don’t waste another twenty years.
I can’t get mine back.
But you still have time.
