One thing remains hopefully substantially evident, my heart is for the gathered church.

I have little time for those standing outside it throwing stones, the type who are not part of the church community, don’t know what it is to stand alongside people that are not your natural circle of friends, people you have to intentionally like. They spend their life making Facebook posts about how the church needs to do better, buildings are bad, paid staff is corruption, all that sort of nonsense.

Nope.

But I do sometimes stand inside throwing stones at the idols and idiots within. :-)

I want to talk about my Protestant deconstructing friends and my friends who have left in search of something closer to “authentic church”.

One group pulls it all apart in their search for truth, the other tries to humbly search for something greater than what they have experienced, the current church set up just doesn’t cut it anymore.

I’ve got friends that have deconstructed themselves into a living hell, and friends who are honestly searching for something better than what they’ve experienced by exploring the Eastern Orthodox Church.

Let’s start with the first group.

My Deconstructing friends.

They were walking with the Lord, deep in the throes of all the charismatic church gusto. Standing on platforms. Praying for people.

Then, almost in the blink of an eye, the language changed.

“Spiritual abuse.”

“My youth was robbed.”

“They told me I was going to change the world.”

“I’m done with this church thing.”

Then eventually: Jesus isn’t real, the whole thing was a lie, and virtually every problem in my life can somehow be traced back to the Church.

Okay my caveat so you don’t send me any private messages telling me I’m uncaring, spiritual abuse is real. Churches can manipulate people, leaders can misuse authority, and some people have genuinely been badly wounded by Christian communities.

But sometimes my kindest, most honest response wants to be:

… perhaps your deepest problem isn’t the Church. Perhaps it’s that you refuse to look at the mess you are responsible for. At some point you have to man up, the reality is you’re a jerk, take ownership of your life and stop making everybody else the explanation for why it hasn’t turned out the way you imagined.

I watched a version of this unfold years ago.

It started with a Rob Bell book being passed around like someone had discovered a missing epistle.

At first the questions seemed fairly contained. Then Scripture was no longer the inerrant Word of God. It became a collection of flawed human interpretations: interesting, occasionally profound, perhaps even spiritually useful, but certainly not authoritative.

Move a little further down the road and exclusive claims about Jesus became embarrassing too.

Surely God is bigger than Christianity.

Surely everybody is basically travelling toward the same place.

Surely all roads somehow lead to Jesus.

Love wins.

And once you have removed any authoritative voice outside yourself, there is an obvious problem.

Who is left to tell you that you might be wrong?

Any Faith Will Do?

Fast forward, I’m standing in front of 5000 people correcting the teaching of someone who was speaking that same day before me on the same platform, because I couldn’t stomach their “muslims are the same as christians all roads lead to heaven” crap. Yep, stood up, corrected, was never invited back to that Christian festival again, not losing any sleep over that. You want to make your bed with syncretism, I’m not with you. Ehud stabs Eglon, the sword disappears into his belly, and the text says “the dung came out” (Judges 3:22 in some translations). His servants then assume he is relieving himself and wait outside, while he is actually dead. That’s what I’m smelling.

That person went on to be a part of a popular “church” that has growing influence on other synagogues of satan in the UK, they’ve deconstructed and recreated their faith in their own image, cos they know how to love better than God (sarcasm).

I’m clearly not a fan.

The next departure we are seeing from protestantism is more of - I love the Lord, I love the Church… but this… this can’t be what the church is supposed to be, there must be something else.

In strolls Eastern Orthodox, twirling a wise old beard, “ahh, you want the “real church” my friend, you’ve finally found us.”

Okay, so whats the problem with this journey, I see the journey of the deconstructor, but whats wrong with turning to something safe and stable like the Eastern Orthodox Church…..

Well, I’m so glad you asked…..

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I read books, studied, listened to people who had done it before, but some stuff is learnt when it blows up in your face.

So, as of the last five minutes, and it is 4 in the morning, here are my fairly unfiltered five things I’ve learned planting and pastoring a church.

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Money, house…

I remember saying to a friend of mine, who had a few million in the bank, that I didn’t understand why people keep buying bigger and better houses, especially when they don’t need them. No kids at home, already a massive house, cleaner coming in... what exactly is the bigger house going to do?

The friend just looked at me.

I had, without realising it, described him. Not only was he actively looking for a bigger house, he wanted a new car as well.

Perhaps from the outside it was obvious something wasn’t quite right with the whole equation. I certainly didn’t notice until the words were already out of my mouth.

We do it though. If we just had...

A different job, better car, vacation in Hawaii, new kitchen. The fence that blew down last week in the storm finally getting fixed...

And to be fair, that will make me pretty happy...

For a bit.

My neighbour got a new truck - absolutely beaming with joy, of course I said how amazing it was and how happy he must be, for at least a week he looked super happy every time he got in that truck. A week later he didn’t have the same bounce, perhaps a month later it was worse, probably when the first payment withdrawal hit the bank account..

The new house becomes not as ideal as the house down the road. The pay rise becomes what you earn, and the thing you spent six months staring at online becomes yet another old iphone.

Psychologists call this hedonic adaptation.

I call it annoying.

Yes, I will be happy when the fence that blew down last week is finally finished. At this point I may stand outside and admire the thing, add a photo to my next substack just to show everyone my handy work. But will that happiness be sustained? Am I going to be looking out of the window next February thinking, there she is... still standing... what a time to be alive? (I do hope it stays standing, I’ve put up shelves that haven’t lasted more than a week before).

A moment of doom-scrolling the other day, I came across a Harvard Study of Adult Development, which has been running in one form or another for nearly ninety years. It wasn’t designed specifically around my fence-related existential crisis, but over all those decades it has ended up answering a much more interesting question: what actually gives people sustained happiness?

Often something changes (the new fill this gap ______) and you feel brilliant for a while, but we have this remarkable ability to absorb the extraordinary until it becomes normal.

I’ve seen this work in the other direction too. Horrible things happen that you think would crush people forever, but they bounce back.

Years ago I met a guy who had fallen off a skateboard, hit his head and was left unable to move his body from the neck down. Before the accident he had been happy, healthy, full of humour.

When I met him some months later, he was funny. Genuinely funny. He was looking for the good in life, interested in people, laughing, engaging. Of course there had been a harsh adjustment, and I’m not trying to turn somebody else’s suffering into one of those awful inspirational Facebook memes, but it stayed with me because somehow, after everything that had happened, he was still there. His Dad said to me, “he’s still got his humor!” (I did step aside with the Dad for a moment and simply said, are you ok, really ok - he broke down into pieces as he had been holding it together for years in front of his kid - “he can’t see how broken I am” he said. So I’m not saying pain doesn’t exist everything is fleeting. But I am saying the person you are deep down stays relatively stable, your character, your base level of happiness.

This kids circumstances had changed almost beyond recognition, yet the person I met wasn’t defined by those circumstances.

So if circumstances can push our happiness dramatically in either direction for a while, but aren’t necessarily the thing that determines the deeper quality of our lives, what is?

What’s going on... what’s the secret?

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We are saved by grace through faith, not by works. Paul couldn’t really make that any clearer. You didn’t earn your salvation, you didn’t achieve it by becoming holy enough, and you didn’t finally get God’s attention because you managed to sort yourself out.

I love the story Alistair Begg tells about imagining the thief on the cross arriving in heaven and being questioned about why he’ there.

These sort of questions are posed:

What’s your understanding of justification by faith?

No idea.

Were you baptised?

No.

Filled with the Holy Spirit? Speak in tongues?

Don’t know what that means.

Did you give to a local church?

No, I was actually more interested in stealing than giving.

Church membership?

Never went.

Eventually you can imagine this increasingly exasperated angel asking him on what possible merit he thinks he should be allowed in.

And his answer is simply … “the man on the middle cross said I could come”.

That’s it.

That’s the gospel. Strip away everything else we manage to add to it and our confidence is still Jesus. We are saved because of what He has done, not because of what we have done.

But then you keep reading your Bible.

The same Paul who tells us that salvation is “not a result of works” says in the very next verse that we were “created in Christ Jesus for good works.”

Then he spends enormous portions of his letters telling Christians how they should live.

Stop lying, deal with your anger, stop stealing, work, give, forgive people, get rid of bitterness, walk in love, live differently from the world around you.

Jesus tells churches in Revelation to repent. One needs to wake up. Another has abandoned its first love. Another has a reputation for being alive but is dead. These aren’t gentle suggestions that none of this particularly matters because they once prayed a prayer.

Are we holy and blameless because we are in Christ, or are we supposed to become holy and blameless?

If my works contributed nothing to getting me saved, can my bad works get me unsaved?

And if good works really matter, what actually produces them without putting us straight back onto the religious treadmill of trying to prove to God that we deserve what He supposedly gave us for free?

How do we take holiness seriously without spending the rest of our Christian lives wondering whether God is about to pack our bags?

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Students booed at the University of Arizona while Google CEO, Eric Schmidt at the University spoke positively about AI. Some christians have desperately let the world know that involvement with AI is the beast from Revelation, literally suggesting that your salvation is not safe if you…

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During a recent visit to England (about a month ago), I returned to my mother’s former family home, a distinguished Georgian manor house set in the picturesque Somerset village of Stanton Drew, I remember playing in the halls and gardens as a child. It is now a nursing home with thirty-t…

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“Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give to you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, walk.”

That was Peter.

NOT

“Let’s do a six-week course on healing first.”

“Let’s discer…

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The church comes in many expressions and outworkings. The gathered church on a Sunday. The small groups. The home groups. Prayer meetings in somebody’s lounge where someone has made a lasagna, I probably won’t eat it and there’s probably a few cat hairs in it (true story). I remember one pot luck someone tried to feed us all raw chicken. Anyway, I love the big conference moments where thousands are singing and there is something weighty happening in the room. I love the small room where someone finally opens up and says what they have been carrying for years, because they finally feel safe.

I have learned to love the megachurch expression. That took some growth, because years ago I could be quite negative about it. I would look at the lights, the scale, the slickness, the systems, and assume the whole thing was just a show and money machine. Then you get close enough to see what is actually involved. You see the weight of leadership, the complexity of caring for thousands, the seriousness of excellence, the reach, the generosity, the salvations, the discipleship, the sheer amount of unseen work. I led worship for a mega church movement for just under a year, so I do get it. It is very easy to mock big things from a small chair.

I also love the home church expression when it is healthy. It can be saturated in connection, discipleship, vulnerability, prayer, food, Scripture, and relational honesty that is much harder to fake, the people in the room know the slightest change in your demeanor. There is something beautiful about the small expression of church life when it is rooted, humble, accountable, and genuinely connected to the wider body of Christ.

Different expressions can serve different stages of growth too. We once had someone leave our church because they felt they were “too seen.” True story. They wanted to be able to hide at church. Now, part of me wanted to say, “Congratulations, you’ve discovered community.” But maybe that was just the stage of growth they were at. Some people are not ready to be known yet. Some people still want church to be big enough to slip in, receive, recover, and not have Doris asking them why they looked sad during the second song. People are complicated. Church is complicated. Growth is complicated.

So what I am about to say is not me throwing rocks at megachurches, house churches, small groups, home groups, Sunday gatherings, midweek meetings etc. I am not trying to crush an expression. I am trying to name a disease.

It may offend some people so before you start sending me your private messages of how you are so offended (yes that happens) please read to the end, then send them to the usual address noreply@idontcare.com (I do care really, and I value your messages)

I am increasingly fed up with the rise of renegade spiritual cliques that start with all the language of intimacy and discipleship, but end up functioning as a replacement church led by people nobody called, nobody sent, nobody appointed, nobody tested, and nobody can correct….. Let me unpack this. Where things starts to smell funny.

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The church preferred formal dress (Southern Baptist). I’m a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy.

At the time we had no money. Literally none (other than credit cards). I used my last few dollars to buy a suit and smart clothes for my kids, two outfits each so we could rotate week to week. That was it. A painful wardrobe choice when you were skint (Americans might need to look this British slang up).

Trying to get a five-year-old into suit pants is its own ministry. Trying to get little dresses on tiny tots. Trying to make everyone presentable for the gathering so no one is distracted by you, offended by you, or wondering why you didn’t “make an effort.” (See how impressed Felicity is in the photo below).

The drive was long. Fuel hurt. Every week I watched the gauge drop and did the math. But I’d already settled it. This is service. It’s a privilege. Jesus is worthy.

No pay, any money they would have paid me is to be given to charity. I loved being there. I loved seeing the church glorify the Lord.

Then the pastor asked if I’d meet with some members who weren’t happy.

My stomach dropped.

Oh no.
How have I failed them?

He said, “They’ve already left. I think they just want to attack you. You don’t have to meet.”

I said no. It’s fine.

The meeting began.

They were quite cross. Prepared. Multiple allegations. Notes. Questions.

What had I done?

BEFORE WE GET INTO THAT…

I write these articles in the hope they encourage, edify, and build up. They’re not theoretical. They’re lived. They’re processed. They come from conversations, tensions, joys, and moments that sit with you long after the room has emptied.

I labor over them. Not because I think I’ve got something profound to say every week, but maybe something that will help someone else in their journey.

It certainly helps me process. And judging by the messages, it’s helping others too. I think there are several hundred subscribers now. That’s amazing to me. I get encouraging words regularly, but one message encouraged me greatly. Someone said they had resolved to give church another try after reading these articles. Brilliant.

Now, some content… and to be fair, more content moving forward… will sit behind a paywall.

Why?

Well, I’ll be frank, so I get money.

I’m trying to save up to take my family to Disney.

This writing has got me about 25% of the way there. We’re a family of seven, so it’s not exactly a casual afternoon out. So yes - $8 gets you subscribed to the entire catalog and more throughout the weeks, and my kids get one step closer to experiencing Disney World - can’t wait to see Clara’s face meeting Disney characters. For some, that alone might be a reason not to subscribe :-) Boycott Disney.

Fair enough.

Now, what’s behind the paywall this week?

Accusations.
Division.
People leaving the church then.
People leaving the church now.
People refusing to even step inside the building.

Yep. Spicy.

But my hope isn’t just that you see the problem. (Which might be me)

It’s that you see the remedy.

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Short answer: no.
Long answer: also no… but with some very real, very human disagreement - especially about the millennium.

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There are loads of denominations. Loads of streams. Loads of slightly different ways of doing what we all insist on calling “biblical church.”

And depending on who you’re listening to, this is either:
the great tragedy of Christianity…
or the reason your particular group exists—to fix everyone else.

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I’m not asking why some pastors are evil.
That’s too easy. Too clean. Too simple.

I’m asking something more awkward:

How does a man who genuinely loves Jesus, wants to help people, starts out with real sincerity… end up becoming controlling, manipulative, defensive, weirdly obsessed with loyalty, unable to be challenged, and surrounded by people too intimidated to tell him he’s acting like an absolute clown?

Here is an example of what I’m talking about - this video is scary.
YouTube Video Link of Pastor talking about why he fires people

It matters, because every other week now there’s another story. Another leader. Another apology. Another “after prayerful consideration” statement written in the kind of language that says absolutely nothing while pretending to say something.

And the thing that keeps bothering me is this:

Most of these men did not begin as cartoon villains, how do I know I’m not one of these clowns.

They didn’t wake up one morning, twirl a moustache, stroke a white cat, and say, “I think I shall build a ministry and emotionally blackmail the saints.” Or like Pinky and The Brain - “lets plan to take over the world” (I don’t know what age demographic I’m hitting but someone will get this humor)

No.
They started out loving Jesus.
They wanted to preach the gospel.
They wanted to help people.
They probably cried in worship once upon a time.
They probably meant it.

So what happened?

Here’s what I think happens.

Not in every case.
But in enough cases that the pattern is hard to ignore, I’m going to point out the subtleties.

“I carry the vision of the house, I hear clearly from the Lord, I’ve got elders who fully back me, and my iPad is absolutely full of revelations no one can question.”

Here’s my 10 steps to becoming an evil pastor.

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There is a version of discipleship that sounds deeply spiritual on th…

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I honestly don’t understand the why of this question - I’ll get to it in a second.

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Have you ever noticed people will feel “in” or “out” based on proximity to authority.

I have watched people leave churches because they could not get time with the pastor.

They often t…

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Someone sends you a video.

A person gets payed for, they have a visibly withered arm, suddenly it extends out, the crowd goes crazy.

Hands go up. Tears flow. Someone shouts, “Jesus!”

You share it. Everyone celebrates.

Your buddy Chris sends it back to you - yeah I’ve seen it before Rex its a fake.

The story wasn’t what it seemed.
The details don’t hold.
The clip was edited. Or staged. Or recycled. Or now, increasingly, AI.

You weren’t trying to deceive anyone.
You just wanted it to be true.

That’s the part which isn’t a problem surely….

Because many of us are not chasing lies.
But are we chasing confirmation — that God is near, that He’s moving, that what we believe is real.

Does that hunger subtly enter and shapes us more than we realise.

WHEN THE SUPERNATURAL BECOMES THE SCORECARD

Mike Winger made an observation in his long analysis of the Shawn Bolz situation that stuck with me. He suggested that parts of the charismatic movement appear so desperate for an increase in signs, wonders, prophecy, and healing that the moment anything surfaces that looks like God moving, we run to it.

We defend it.
We amplify it.
We believe it.

Almost like we are so desperate for it to be true we throw any discernment out the window.

Not because we’re dishonest — but because we’re hungry.

And over time, that hunger might train us to evaluate church life in a particular way.

I think its subtle.

How was the meeting?
How was the conference?
How was the night?

What do we really mean — without saying it:
Did anything supernatural happen?

Words of knowledge?
Healings?
Prophetic moments?

We don’t intend to reduce God to a checklist.
But functionally, perhaps to some degree we’ve learned to rate gatherings by their supernatural content.

If there was spectacle, it was powerful.
If there wasn’t, something must have been missing.

Scripture never teaches us to evaluate the life of the church that way.
If a preacher or minister says they saw a miracle or gives a word of prophecy suddenly they are authentic and we gravitate to their ministry.

Take the Shawn Bolz situation as an example

Some people are currently rethinking entire life decisions because they trusted a prophetic word.

The pattern he used roughly speaking.

A name.
A spouse’s name.
An anniversary date.

Then comes direction.

A calling.
A destiny.
A project God has supposedly ordained.

It feels overwhelming — because it feels personal.

Later, people realise those details were publicly available.
Facebook posts. Instagram captions. Old comments.

Suddenly a vague longing — “I’d love to make a film one day” — becomes a divine mandate.
Money gets spent.
Plans get locked in.
Doubt feels like disobedience.

Scripture doesn’t forbid prophecy — but it never asks us to suspend wisdom for it.

“Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others weigh what is said.” (1 Corinthians 14:29)

“Test the spirits to see whether they are from God.” (1 John 4:1)

Weighing is not unbelief.
Testing is not cynicism.

They are biblical responsibilities.

Suddenly it’s a competition for the biggest miracle

Bold claims.
Absolute certainty.
No room for ambiguity.

Sometimes this spills into genuinely dangerous territory — not always in dramatic, headline-grabbing ways, but in subtler pressures: If you really had faith… If you truly believed… If you operated the way I do… flush your medicine down the toilet then apologize to the toilet - thats one I heard recently.

Scripture never treats spiritual confidence as self-authenticating.

“Do not believe every spirit.” (1 John 4:1)

“Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.” (2 Corinthians 11:14)

Faith does not mean abandoning discernment.
Trust in God does not require us to turn off our minds, in fact our minds are renewed.

There should be a miracle at the center of every gathering

Every gathering should have a miracle at its center: Jesus Himself. We often feel the need to 'improve' the story with our own flair, but God needs no such help. I remember walking through downtown Nashville with a team member who had watched me move in the prophetic and share the Gospel in churches all week. When he tried to debate a homeless man on a street corner and hit a wall of indifference, he turned to me with a look that said, 'Do something—give him a word of knowledge, show him a sign!' But here is the truth: the greatest demonstration of God’s love—the one we will never fully comprehend—is Jesus. That man didn't need a sign; he simply didn't want the Savior. My friend seemed visibly disappointed in me, whilst I was actually encouraged by his simple passion to share Jesus — he was preaching the good news.

HOLDING MIRACLES WITHOUT EMBELLISHMENT

I’ve prayed for a child in a wheelchair and watched him get up and walk.

I also noticed that his legs were still withered.

What do I report? The child said he was healed—and I believe him. But the story is the story.

I’ve prayed for someone with a cancerous-looking mole that appeared one day and completely disappeared the next. I have no reason to doubt that God healed them.

I’ve heard many other credible reports of healing. I’m not interested in explaining them away. But Scripture never asks us to exaggerate what God does in order to make it convincing. Neither should we feel the need to chase this or use them as a badge of honor or to prove our credibility.

Sometimes, the “victory” looks different than the highlight reel.

I remember being at Bethel, praying for a sweet couple. The husband had Multiple Sclerosis and was in a very difficult state—he couldn’t talk and could barely move, he was wheeled into our meetings everyday with his wife. One time she asked if we could pray for him. As we prayed, he used every ounce of strength he had to move his foot. We celebrated that small miracle of effort and movement. About a year later, he passed away.

He didn’t receive the full physical healing we asked for. But here is the thing: while some in the room might have had their faith weakened by that outcome, others had theirs strengthened. They saw a wife who, despite the earthly reality, knew that Christ was King. She knew that any present affliction is short-lived compared to the future hope of glory.

Her faith was actually stronger than the faith that demands a miracle to believe. She believed despite what the world threw at her. She has continued to walk in faith with great courage and boldness, still praying for miracles and still seeing them—because she isn’t anchored by the result of the prayer; she is anchored in the saving grace of Christ. She had already experienced the greatest life-altering miracle there is.

A RECENT CONFERENCE THAT REFRAMED THINGS FOR ME

Recently, I attended a conference that was genuinely extraordinary.

There were no words of knowledge.
No public healings that I was aware of.
No spectacle at the front.

And yet, Jesus was unmistakably on display.

In the teaching.
In the worship.
In the beauty of Christ being held up clearly and carefully.

It didn’t feel empty.
It didn’t feel lacking.
It didn’t feel like God was absent.

When people asked “how was the conference” they seemed disappointed that there wasn’t some spectacular story of a miracle to report, the answer, “I’m more in love with Jesus” perhaps wasn't enough, or perhaps we just don’t celebrate that as much…..

WHAT SCRIPTURE SPENDS THE MOST TIME ON

For all the attention miracles receive, the New Testament places far more weight on something else…..

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I’m not here to decide whether Bethel’s apology “worked” or determine its legitimacy, or to throw in my unwarranted opinions.

I don’t know their hearts.
I don’t need to.
I’m not interested in punishing anyone, dismantling ministries, or running a spiritual trial.

I’m also not holding unforgiveness.

So this isn’t about them proving something to me.

”So this is about getting more subscribers Rex?” ….

No! (Maybe a little bit)

Moments like this expose something deeper:
we are actually really bad at sorry.
and we’re just as bad at forgiveness.

Not in theory.
In practice.

There are some glaring problems in how we apologise in the Church — and equally glaring problems in how we try to forgive. This situation just puts a spotlight on them.

So I want to talk about that.

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(Again.)

The platforms are falling apart.
Another church scandal.

At this point it feels less like “breaking news” and more like “scheduled maintenance.”

The latest charismatic controversy is …

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If the same Holy Spirit lives in me as lives in you…
why do you get to tell me what to do?

If I can hear God, pray, read Scripture, and be led by the Spirit—
what exactly makes an elder’s voice different from mine?

And if authority does exist in the church…
what is it actually supposed to look like?

Does a pastor get to tell you who you can marry?

Do they get to decide what you should do with your money?

Do they have the right to weigh in on your friendships?

Are they the final authority on what Scripture means?

If you disagree, are you being “rebellious”…
or just faithful to conscience?

Let’s be honest—authority has baggage.

For many people, it immediately brings to mind control, manipulation, pressure, abuse, or being told to fall in line “because God said so.” And if that’s your experience, your instinctive resistance makes sense. A lot of what has been called church authority hasn’t looked anything like Jesus.

But Scripture doesn’t throw the word away.
It redeems it.

So the question isn’t whether authority exists in the church.
The question is what kind, what should it look like?

So what is an elder—and what authority do they have?

Here’s the anchor point that everything else hangs on:

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The truth is, we haven’t been failing at discipleship; we’ve been incredibly successful at it. We just didn’t realize that the architecture, the lights, and the “stage” were the curriculum, the pastor in the latest sneakers and the worship music awards were all working toward a certain type of discipleship. We’ve unwittingly precision-engineered a “Discipleship Lab” that turns believers into customers, and then we act shocked when they start acting like they’re at a shopping mall.

The Steward vs. The Customer

I’ve often thought as we talk about not being a consumer that we lack a definition of what the opposite is. In the Bible, stewardship is a high-stakes job. The word is oikonomia—literally “house management.” It’s the Joseph story. It’s being handed the keys to the Master’s estate and being told to make it grow while He’s away.

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