05/07/2026
LOVE & PRAY 💟 🙏🏻✝️
Some have questioned why we continue to post news or updates about our former denomination. “Don’t look back,” they say. “Remember Lot’s wife.” The warning is real—Lot’s wife turned back longingly toward a place God was calling her to leave, and she was caught in judgment. It's a sober image. But let us not forget: before judgment came, there was mercy offered. There was intercession.
In Genesis 18, God confided in Abraham about the impending judgment of S***m. Abraham didn’t shrug and say, “Well, I’ve left that place behind.” Instead, he pleaded for the city. Not because he approved of what it had become, but because he believed there could still be righteous people inside—fifty, then forty-five, thirty, twenty, even ten.
Abraham’s heart reflected God’s own: patient, compassionate, and slow to anger (Exodus 34:6). God was willing to spare an entire city for the sake of ten faithful people. How then can we turn our backs so quickly on those who remain in a struggling denomination—those who love Jesus, honor the Word, and long for a Methodism where God is glorified above all else?
There are still people caught behind denominational walls, praying in sanctuaries where sound doctrine has faded or left entirely, yet their faith remains. Pastors and laity alike who have missed a step or two in disaffiliation, or who never had the option. Many are fighting quietly to preserve biblical integrity in the places where they worship. They may feel abandoned, overlooked, or spiritually homeless.
We post, speak, and remember—not to stir division—but to intercede. To extend grace. To remind them they are not forgotten. If we truly believe Christ leaves the ninety-nine to find the one (Luke 15:4), we must believe He’s still moving within these places, calling people to Himself.
And so, we look back—not to harp on old institutional ties, but to honor our spiritual ones. Not in longing for broken systems, but in love for the people still within them. Many of us were shaped by the worship, prayers, and faithful saints of those congregations. To forget them now would be to forget our own story—and worse, to turn our backs on those who still call out to God from within those walls, the lost, and the left-behind. We are not saved to stand on the sidelines. We are called to intercede, to speak truth in love, and to believe—always—that God’s mercy still reaches into hard places.
Let us not grow weary in doing good (Galatians 6:9), nor forget those who remain in the fire. God may be using our voices, prayers, and posts to keep the light on for those looking for a way out—or a way through.
Because if there are even ten, then we still have reason to pray. 💒💒💒
