While watching Emmanuel Acho’s worship video and holding back tears as I listened to the praise and worship, I had two thoughts.

My first thought was:

My second thought was:

But after I came back to reality, I said:

“Well, praise God.”

I know everybody may not agree with me.

Some people may look at the show. They may look at the conversations. They may look at the people around him. They may look at Acho himself and say, “Yeah, but what about this? What about that?”

And I’m not here to defend Emmanuel Acho.

I’m not here to examine another man’s salvation.

I’m not even saying Christians should walk into every environment, slap “I’m being a light” on whatever we’re doing, and call it good.

We still need discernment.

We still need holiness.

We still need to examine fruit.

But I wonder sometimes if we’ve gotten so good at identifying the darkness that we’ve forgotten what God told us to do with the light.

Light was made to illuminate something.

And sometimes the place that needs illumination isn’t another pew.

Sometimes it’s the workplace.

Sometimes it’s the locker room.

Sometimes it’s the barbershop.

Sometimes it might even be a bar, a tattoo shop, a stage, a studio—or a sports show where everything surrounding it doesn’t necessarily look like church.

I’ve heard about Christian rappers performing in places some Christians wouldn’t walk into.

And I understand the concern.

We should never confuse the two.

So no, carrying the light doesn’t give us permission to participate in everything happening around us.

But I also don’t want us to become so comfortable inside the pews that we start condemning everybody willing to carry the light outside of them.

Go.

Not everybody God wants us to reach is going to walk through our church doors first.

And maybe sometimes, instead of immediately asking:

we ought to stop long enough to ask:

Here’s something else Scripture keeps showing us:

God can use anybody and anything He chooses to accomplish His purpose.

Look at Ezra.

When it was time for God’s people to return and rebuild the temple, Scripture says:

Cyrus then gave permission for the people to return and rebuild.

Look at Nehemiah.

Nehemiah needed permission to return to Jerusalem. He needed letters for safe passage. He needed timber for the gates and the wall.

And King Artaxerxes provided it.

Don’t miss that.

Nehemiah recognized the king’s decision.

But Nehemiah recognized God’s hand behind it.

That doesn’t mean God endorsed everything those kings believed or everything they did.

It means God was still God.

And no, before somebody takes this somewhere I didn’t take it, I’m not calling Emmanuel Acho a pagan king. 😂

I’m talking about the sovereignty of God.

If God can move kings and kingdoms, provide resources through unexpected people, and open doors through people outside the faith, then God isn’t limited to working in environments that already look Christian.

That brings me back to what I watched.

Worship.

On a sports show.

Maybe somebody watching that show would never voluntarily click on a sermon.

Maybe somebody watching doesn’t have a church.

Maybe somebody hasn’t prayed in years.

Maybe somebody was just waiting on the next football argument when suddenly they heard somebody praising Jesus.

I don’t know what God will do with it.

Neither does anybody else.

Jesus told a parable about a field where wheat and weeds were growing together.

When the servants noticed the weeds, their first instinct was to pull them up.

But the master told them:

That’s the part that gets me.

And the presence of weeds didn’t mean there wasn’t anything good growing in the field.

Sometimes I think we look at a place, see everything that’s wrong with it, and decide nothing from God could possibly be happening there.

We see the language.

We see the lifestyle.

We see the controversy.

We see imperfect people.

And our first instinct can become like those servants:

Get the wheat away from the weeds.

Now, I’m not saying this parable means Christians should deliberately put themselves anywhere and call it ministry. That’s not what Jesus was teaching, and we still need wisdom and discernment.

But it does remind me of something:

The wheat can still grow.

The light can still shine.

And God’s purposes don’t suddenly stop because everything surrounding what He’s doing doesn’t look like Him.

And that brings me to something else.

None of us carries this light with a perfect record.

All.

Not them.

Us.

Me too.

We’ve all fallen.

We’ve all produced things in our lives we’re ashamed of.

We’ve all said things we wish we could take back.

We’ve all needed grace.

So maybe boldness isn’t standing before everybody saying:

“Look how good of a Christian I am.”

Maybe sometimes boldness sounds more like:

There’s humility in that.

There’s courage in that.

Because sometimes the people you’re trying to tell about Jesus already know some of your mess.

They’ve seen you angry.

They’ve heard some things come out of your mouth.

They’ve watched you make mistakes.

And now you’re going to tell them about Jesus?

Yes.

Not because you’re perfect.

Because He is.

We’re the jars.

He’s the treasure.

That’s what moved me watching that video.

Not perfection.

Courage.

The willingness to make room for God in a place where praise and worship isn’t necessarily what people came expecting to hear.

And maybe that’s something the Church should celebrate a little more.

We absolutely should gather in the pews.

We need that.

We should worship together.

Learn together.

Pray together.

Strengthen one another.

But eventually somebody has to walk back out the door.

Somebody has to take what was strengthened in the pew into the workplace Monday morning.

Into the locker room.

Into the studio.

Into the barbershop.

Onto the stage.

Onto the sports show.

Into places where everybody isn’t going to believe like us, talk like us, or live like us.