I was visiting my kids and grandkids, sitting in a Southern Baptist church one Sunday morning. I attended a Southern Baptist church as a teenager and have always held deep respect for the SBC — loving, faithful people who helped form me.
That morning’s service, though, turned out to be unlike any I remembered. The pastor never made it to his sermon. And to be honest, those are often my favorite kinds of gatherings.
Don’t get me wrong — I love a good message. A well-prepared sermon can bring new life to me. I feel more connected to God through the Holy Spirit. It sharpens my mind, lifts my spirit, and fills me with hope for my family, my friends, and even the wider world.
But when the Holy Spirit takes over — when the pastor, prophet, teacher, or evangelist steps aside — I sense something even deeper. I feel lifted into a new level of awareness about God’s kingdom. It’s a spiritual high that’s both humbling and, if I’m honest, somewhat addictive.
When the Spirit Leads
When the Holy Spirit takes charge, almost anything is possible. Sometimes the supernatural breaks through. I’ve been on both sides of that — receiving blessings and, at other times, being part of delivering them. Both experiences left me in awe.
I know some believers are skeptical of this. Many seminary-trained pastors grow uneasy when services drift beyond the planned order. It can feel risky to hand control to the Spirit — after all, it’s their job to lead, not to let things unfold unpredictably. And yes, Scripture warns that the enemy can appear as an angel of light, so discernment matters.
I understand those concerns, but my life as a believer has taken me down a different road. I’ve seen enough to know that the Spirit is trustworthy — even if people aren’t always perfect in how they respond to Him. Ministers are human too. But I’ve learned to trust that the Holy Spirit can protect me, even when things get messy.
A Sunday That Didn’t Go by the Book
This particular Sunday carried that same divine unpredictability. There was special music, recognition of a member who’d come through a serious health battle, and a flow that gradually drifted from the bulletin’s outline.
To his credit, the pastor didn’t try to rein it in. He let the Holy Spirit lead.
People began coming forward to pray. Others knelt to intercede for them. A few shared short testimonies. The children’s choir sang, then the adult choir. The pastor called up a member to sing an invitation song — which led to more prayer, more tears, more movement toward the altar.
One young man came forward to pray and soon after announced that he had accepted Jesus as his Savior. Later, a baby was dedicated. Then came the announcements, the final prayer, and the dismissal.
There had been no sermon — yet there had been church.
I left that service not particularly “moved” in the moment, but months later, the experience still lingers in my mind. Everyone present was blessed in one way or another. Some were changed forever.
The Quiet Voice
Driving home afterward, a thought settled into my spirit like a whisper: Life is about calibrating expectations.
At first, I brushed it off. Then I realized how profound that simple truth was. The more I turned it over in my mind, the more I saw how much of Scripture echoes that idea. So here it is — the seed of that thought, grown into reflection.
The Ongoing Recalibration
We are born knowing nothing about how to live. Through time and experience — through nature and nurture — we learn. Some lessons are joyful. The most valuable ones are often painful.
Pain recalibrates us. It forces us to confront our limits and our illusions of control. No one welcomes trauma, but it reshapes us. It humbles us. It reminds us that we do not dictate outcomes. All we can do is adjust, learn, and move forward.
Recalibration never ends. It’s the ongoing work of aligning our expectations with truth — the kind of truth that God reveals through both joy and hardship. It’s how we grow, mature, and find peace.
On this side of heaven, calibration is constant. And that, perhaps, is what faith really is: learning to live in step with the One who sees the whole picture, even when we don’t.
The Unbeguiled — to seek what’s real, test what’s false, and learn together what cannot be shaken.
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