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Broken Yoke Blog

  • Grace In The Dirt


    I don’t know why Jesus would want to use someone like me. The truth is, I wouldn’t have chosen me. I spent years not even wanting myself. I couldn’t stand the man in the mirror. I couldn’t stand the weight of my own failures. And trust me, there’s been more failure than success. More broken promises than kept ones. More moments of weakness than strength. I am not some special person. I’m not polished. I’m not impressive.
    I’m messy. I’m complicated. I’m stubborn.
    I’m a walking contradiction most days. I’m desperate for grace and hungry for God but fighting the flesh that betrays Him.

    Sometimes I sit in the quiet and wonder: Why me, Lord? Why use someone so deeply flawed? Why love someone who spent so long running away? Why die for someone who couldn’t even bear to look at himself?

    But then I remember that It was never about me being good enough. It was never about me being worthy. It was never about what I had to offer.

    He wanted me because He loved me first.
    Before I lifted my eyes. Before I whispered a prayer. Before I ever thought of Him. When I was still a mess. When I was still covered in shame. When I was still sprinting toward destruction.

    He wanted me because He saw what He could do in me, not what I had done.
    He wanted me because broken vessels are the ones that shine His light the best.
    He wanted me because His grace doesn’t glorify the worthy; it glorifies Himself. He wanted me because He is a Redeemer.
    Because He takes messes and makes testimonies. Because He takes ashes and makes beauty. Because He takes the things the world throws away and says, “This one’s mine.”

    Jesus didn’t come for the perfect. He didn’t come for the powerful. He came for the sick.
    He came for the weak. He came for the sinners who had nothing to offer except empty hands and a broken heart. And if you’re like me, if you’ve ever wondered why He would even look your way, Just know it’s because love like His doesn’t make sense by human standards. It runs deeper. It sees farther. It chooses anyway. I still don’t understand it fully. But I’m learning to stop questioning it, and start living like someone who was worth rescuing.

    Because to Him, I was. And to Him, you are too. He wanted me because He is “close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). He wanted me because “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). He wanted me because “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise” (1 Corinthians 1:27).

    He didn’t wait for me to clean up. He didn’t wait for me to figure it all out. He came running while I was still a long way off (Luke 15:20). That’s grace. That’s mercy. That’s Jesus. So if you’re standing there with nothing to offer but a broken heart and tired hands, good. That’s all He ever needed to work a miracle. And He’s not done yet.

    Philip

    4 min read

  • Bible Buffet


    You Love the Verses That Make You Feel Good, But You Ignore the Ones That Cut Deep

    Everybody loves the Scriptures that comfort. The ones that tell you you’re chosen. That you’re loved. That God has a plan for your life. And those verses are true. They matter. They’re beautiful. But here’s the thing: you can’t just cling to the promises without also submitting to the correction.

    Jeremiah 29:11, For I know the plans I have for you. And yet you skip past Luke 9:23 where Jesus says, “If anyone wants to follow me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

    You post Philippians 4:13—“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”, but you scroll right past Galatians 5:24: “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”

    You love Romans 8:1, “There is therefore now no condemnation…”, but ignore Hebrews 12:6: “For the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and chastises every son whom He receives.”

    You want John 3:16 but not Matthew 7:21, where Jesus says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven…”

    You quote Psalm 23 but don’t want to talk about Psalm 51, where David cries out in repentance for his sin.

    You don’t get to follow a feel-good Jesus. You follow a crucified one. A risen one. A holy one. A just one. A Savior and a Judge.

    The Word of God is not a buffet where you get to pick only what tastes sweet and leave the rest on the table. The same Word that comforts also convicts. The same Spirit that encourages also rebukes.

    Some of us want to be encouraged but not transformed. Inspired but not instructed. Forgiven but not accountable.

    But real faith is built in the tension between grace and truth. You can’t grow in Christ if you only listen to what makes you feel good. Growth comes through pruning. Through fire. Through correction. Through conviction.

    So ask yourself: Do you love the whole Word of God, or just the parts that don’t confront your lifestyle?

    Because if you’re only reading the Scriptures that make you feel better, but ignoring the ones that call you higher, you’re not worshiping God. You’re worshiping comfort. And comfort never changed anyone. Conviction did.

    Philip

    4 min read

  • Love Isn’t a Backstage Pass


    You Owe Everyone Love, But You Don’t Owe Them Access
    (Heard this quote from Pastor Philip Anthony Mitchell, and it stuck with me.)

    Let’s break this down, because it’s deep, and it’s needed. The Bible says in Romans 13:8, “Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” That means we are commanded, commanded to love. Not to be friends with everyone. Not to trust everyone. Not to keep toxic people in our lives. But to love.

    And love doesn’t always mean proximity.
    It doesn’t always mean access.
    It doesn’t always mean answering the call.
    It doesn’t always mean going back to the same fire you were burned in, just to prove you’re a good person.

    You can love someone from a distance.
    You can forgive them and still block them.
    You can wish them well and still move on.
    You can have a clean heart and still have clear boundaries.

    Some people are only meant to be in your life for a season, maybe even just a lesson. That doesn’t make you hateful for stepping away. That makes you wise. You’re not cold hearted. You’re just done handing out VIP passes to people who only show up to wreck the place.

    And here’s the hard part, sometimes the ones you need to pull back from are family.
    Or people you grew up with. Or folks who wear the right church clothes but carry the wrong spirit. And you’ll feel guilty, because you were raised to believe that “love” means tolerance without limits. But Jesus never taught that. He loved the crowds, but He didn’t let the crowds dictate His peace. He loved Peter, but still called him Satan when necessary. He forgave Judas, but didn’t stop him from walking out the door.

    Love doesn’t mean a lack of discernment.
    It doesn’t mean you let bitterness stay in your space just because it’s dressed up as “loyalty.” And it doesn’t mean you keep being someone’s emotional punching bag just because they share your last name or used to sit beside you at church.

    Boundaries don’t make you mean. They make you healthy. And there’s a difference between a heart full of grace and a door with no lock.

    So yes, you owe everyone love. That’s Christlike. But you do not owe everyone access. That’s wisdom. Because love is a fruit of the Spirit. But access? That’s a privilege. And not everyone respects it when they have it.

    Guard your peace. Protect your purpose.
    And love people well…even if it’s from the other side of a closed door.

    Philip

    4 min read

  • I’m Not a Saint, Just a Story


    I know I come off as hellfire and brimstone in a lot of my writings. I know the tone can be sharp, the words heavy, and the message uncomfortable. But understand something, none of it comes from a place of hate. It’s not judgment. It’s not pride. It’s perspective.

    It’s conviction. And conviction isn’t cruelty, it’s love. It’s the same love that won’t let me stay silent when I see people slipping. It’s the kind of love that yells watch out! when you’re walking too close to the edge. It’s not to shame, it’s to shake. Shake us out of comfort. Shake us out of compromise. Shake us out of thinking I’m good, when in reality, we’re spiritually asleep.

    See, the danger isn’t always in doing wrong. Sometimes it’s in thinking we’re doing fine when we’re really coasting. And comfort is the quickest way to drift from Christ. You’ll never find Jesus in a life that’s just about being cozy, liked, and unchallenged. Walking with Him? It costs. It convicts. It confronts. But it also saves.

    Jesus doesn’t promise a smooth ride here. In fact, He warned it would be hard. He said the road is narrow. The burden is a cross. But the destination? That’s where the joy is. That’s where the reward is. That’s where eternity with Him begins.

    And hear me when I say this, He’s not asking for perfection. He’s asking for progress. For movement. For a willing heart. For a desire to get back up every time you fall. Because the truth is, He already knows we’re flawed. He knows we’ll mess up. But He wants our yes anyway.

    I don’t share this stuff because I think I’m some spiritual giant. I’m not. I’m nobody. Just a man who was broken, saved, and changed. A man who can’t stop talking about the One who pulled him out of the dark. I don’t want you to think highly of me. Honestly, don’t. I’m not the point. Jesus is.

    Think highly of the One who loved you before you even knew His name. The One who died to give you a way back to the Father. The One who is still reaching for you, even now.

    So if what I write ever cuts deep, I pray it also heals. If it ever shakes you, I hope it also roots you. Because it’s not about me being loud, it’s about making Him known. Don’t think highly of me. Just think of Jesus.

    Philip

    4 min read

  • Religious Lips, Rebellious Hearts


    You’re Worshipping Idols and Don’t Even Know It. I’ve been guilty of this. I have to check myself daily because it’s an easy trap to walk into. It doesn’t look like a golden calf, so you think you’re good. It doesn’t stand on an altar or wear a robe, so you think it doesn’t count. But idolatry today is much quieter. Much more deceptive. Much more comfortable.

    It looks like the bank account you obsess over. The job title you wear like armor. The mirror you check twenty times a day. The approval you constantly crave from people who don’t even walk with God. The image you’re desperate to maintain, even if it means faking a life you’re not really living.

    You’re not bowing with your knees, but you’re bowing with your priorities. You’re not singing to it, but you’re sacrificing for it. You’re not burning incense, but you’re burning time, energy, peace, purpose. All of this just to keep it happy.

    Some of you are worshipping a relationship that’s not even healthy. You’ve put a person in a place only God should occupy, and you’re wondering why everything feels off-balance. You’re expecting a broken human being to give you identity, peace, fulfillment. The things only the Holy Spirit was ever meant to bring.

    And here’s the part nobody wants to hear:
    You worship people more than you worship God. The scary part is you don’t even see it.

    You fear what they’ll think more than what God already said. You shape your life around their expectations instead of His commands.
    You let their opinions define your worth more than His truth does. And you chase their validation like it’s eternal, just like it’s salvation.

    But people can’t save you. People didn’t die for you. People didn’t tear the veil. People didn’t conquer the grave. So why are they sitting on the throne of your life?

    Others are worshipping their pain. You’ve made an idol out of your trauma. You’ve built your personality around what hurt you, and now you protect it more than you pursue healing.

    And let’s talk about comfort for a second, because for a lot of us, that’s the true god of this generation. We worship comfort. We sacrifice growth for ease. Obedience for convenience. Holiness for pleasure. Truth for what won’t offend.

    You’re still attending church. Still quoting verses. Still wearing the cross. But your heart belongs to something else. And God sees it.

    These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. – Matthew 15:8

    That verse isn’t about pagans. That’s about us. The truth? Idols don’t need temples anymore. They live in your habits. They live in your feed. They live in what you scroll to, what you binge on, what you can’t say no to.
    They live in the quiet moments of compromise that you keep justifying because “God knows my heart.”

    Yeah. He does. He knows who’s really sitting on the throne in your life. And if it’s not Him, it doesn’t matter how dressed up it looks, how culturally accepted it is, or how many Christian words you throw on top of it. This makes it still an idol. And idols always demand sacrifice. Eventually, they will ask for everything.

    So maybe it’s time to do a heart check. What are you really worshipping? What do you rearrange your life for? What do you trust more than God? What can’t your ego and pride let go of, even if He asked?

    Because following Jesus doesn’t just mean putting Him first. It means putting everything else second. Tear the idols down. All of them.
    Even the ones you dressed up in religion.
    Even the ones that feel good. Even your Pastors, Prophets, Evangelists, and Religious Leaders that have died that you still worship more than God. You put their words and love you had for them above your love for God.

    You can’t walk in freedom if you’re still bowing to chains. And you can’t serve a holy God with a divided heart. Choose today who you will serve. And make sure it’s not the god of them, or the god of you. Only One deserves that throne.

    Philip

    4 min read

  • The Foundery Church


    Let me tell you about The Foundery Church.

    It’s not your typical Sunday morning performance. It’s not a concert stage with fog machines and the dimmed lights designed to entertain you. It’s not a place where you come to blend in, check a box, or sip coffee while your soul stays asleep. The Foundery Church is a forge, a place where heat, pressure, and time shape broken metal into purpose-filled steel.

    This isn’t a museum for saints. It’s a workshop for the willing. A gathering place for the gritty. It’s a shelter for the tired. It’s a safe place for the messed up. The ones who’ve been through the fire and the ones just stepping into it. We don’t pretend to have it all together, but we know the One who holds all things together.

    The Foundery isn’t about being flashy or having perfect people. It’s about process. About transformation. About discipleship that costs something. Because we believe God doesn’t just save you, He refines you. He doesn’t just hand you grace, He teaches you how to carry it like a sword.

    Here, we preach the blood of Jesus without watering it down. We speak the truth in love, even when it cuts. Because conviction isn’t cruelty, it’s care. And repentance isn’t shame, it’s freedom.

    At the Foundery, you won’t find a stage where man is lifted up, you’ll find an altar where pride comes to die. You won’t be handed motivational quotes, you’ll be handed a cross. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s real. And because we know that on the other side of the suffering, there’s resurrection power.

    We sing loud. We cry hard. We pray like warriors. And we don’t let our brothers or sisters walk alone. This is a place where iron sharpens iron, where scars are sacred, and where every testimony smells like smoke from the fire God brought us through.

    So if you’re tired of fake. If you’re done with shallow. If you want something that challenges you, breaks you, heals you, and builds you, welcome to The Foundery.

    This is the church for the ones who still believe revival is possible. This is the church where God doesn’t just restore, He reforges.
    Let the sparks fly.

    Philip

    4 min read