Followed By Mercy
The Followed By Mercy Podcast
Real Grace, Honest Hope
You might notice a new name and a fresh look, but the heart behind this podcast is the same. After years as the World Evangelism Podcast, I sensed God leading me to a deeper, more personal path centered on His relentless mercy and the kind of honest hope that can reach into every hurting place. That’s why this show is now called Followed By Mercy Podcast. The format may shift, and the tone may be a bit more personal, but my mission hasn’t changed: I still believe the world desperately needs to hear the good news of God’s love in Jesus Christ. You are welcome here if you’ve been with me from the beginning or just found us now.
What if God’s love is more personal, stubborn, and relentless than you ever imagined?
Welcome to The Followed By Mercy Podcast, where we get honest about pain, hope, and the kind of grace that finds you right where you are, five days a week. This isn’t about religious performance or church routines. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt worn out, unseen, or unsure if they belong in the story of God’s love. Every conversation is rooted in this reality: God loves you right now, just as you are, and He isn’t giving up on you.
Here’s what you’ll find in every episode:
Experience God’s Relentless Love
Every show starts by reminding you that the Shepherd knows your name, cares about your story, and isn’t offended by your failures or questions. This is personal—it’s about God’s unwavering affection for you.
Find Your Place in His Heart
Once you grasp how fiercely you’re loved, sharing that love with others doesn’t feel forced. It becomes the most natural thing in the world. Real grace overflows.
Prayer That Changes You
We pray together—not just for the world “out there,” but for the battles and hopes you’re carrying right now. These prayers are honest, rooted in Scripture, and meant for hearts that need a gentle touch from the Shepherd.
Discover Your Unique Role
Whether you’re called to go, give, serve, or show kindness in your corner of the world, God’s mercy meets you where you are. You’re not just a bystander. You are His beloved, invited into the story He’s writing.
When life knocks the wind out of you, this is a place to catch your breath. You’ll hear the encouragement that meets you on your hardest days, and your honest questions will be welcomed. No pretending, no heavy-handed advice—just the reminder that your Shepherd is right there with you, walking every step with you, even when you feel like giving up.
Why does this matter? Because some days, it feels like nobody sees you or cares what you’re going through. But the truth is, you have a Shepherd who never takes His eyes off you, lets you slip through the cracks, and never gives up on you. That kind of love can put you back on your feet, and it might be the hope someone else is waiting to see in you, too.
If you’re longing for more than just religious talk—if you want to know you’re not alone and that God’s mercy is following you all the way home, you’re in the right place. Whether you listen in the car, on a walk, or in a quiet moment, let every episode remind you: God’s mercy is after you right now, ready to bring real grace and honest hope.
Subscribe today and join a community to discover what happens when loved people become loving people. The journey’s just beginning, and there’s a place for you here.
Followed By Mercy
When Religion Turns Bitter And Joy Leaves The Church
Ever feel like you're doing everything right and still missing the party?
This episode examines the often-overlooked elder brother in Luke 15 not as a villain, but as a mirror reflecting our own quiet exhaustion. We explore how performance-based religion sneaks into our faith, draining joy and transforming the church from a refuge for the broken into a stage for the polished.
With honest language and practical insight, we trace the slow drift from grace to scorekeeping: when worship grows stiff, confession dries up, and love turns selective. We name the fears behind our judgment: the need to appear strong, the terror of being found imperfect, and the exhaustion of endless comparison.
But we don't stop at diagnosis. We offer a path back to the Father's heart, showing why loud stances on sin don't heal weary souls, but a culture of mercy can. From leaders modeling repentance to congregations where truth is safe, we explore what it looks like to celebrate every time someone comes home.
The goal isn't to lower holiness, it's to lift grace to its rightful place as the power that transforms.
Whether you relate more to the prodigal or the elder sibling, the invitation is the same: come into the feast. Receive before you perform. Let delight replace duty as your engine.
This is for anyone who's tired of keeping score and ready to rediscover the music of mercy.
Thanks for listening. Find us on YouTube, Substack, Twitter, LinkedIn, Facebook, and Instagram.
I want to welcome you back to Followed by Mercy. And we know together, you and I have learned that we are honestly, certainly, surely being pursued by mercy and grace. Surely goodness and mercy do follow me, chase me all the days of my life, because the Lord is my shepherd. I'm excited. You know, I am constantly writing every day and studying every day. And I've just been meditating on the prodigal son and the elder brother. And I've got a couple of articles that will be coming out. And I thought I would just share those with you. I challenge you to sign up if you're not signed up to read them. And you know, I'm trying my best to get out material that will bless you and help you. Well, I want to talk to you right now about when religion makes you bitter. There's a quiet exhaustion in the church today. You can see it in the faces of people who have served faithfully for years, dependable, devoted, and tired. It's the weariness of those who have tried their best to be good enough, yet still feel unseen, unrewarded, and unloved. That's the ache of the elder brother in Luke 15. He stayed home. He obeyed every rule. But when his younger brother came back, and the father threw a feast, the elder brother refused to go in. He stood outside, angry and alone, saying, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment, and yet thou get never gavest me a kid that I might make merry with my friends. He was not angry because he was bad. He was angry because he was weary, jealous, and disappointed. He had worked so long for approval that when grace showed up for someone else, it felt like an insult. That's what religion without grace does. It breeds jealousy, fuels comparison, and slowly poisons the soul with resentment. It whispers, if you do everything right, God will bless you. When life doesn't work out the way you thought, bitterness grows. We start comparing, we start judging, and soon the joy is gone. When grace fades, criticism takes its place. When mercy is forgotten, judgment fills the air. We stop rejoicing when people come home. We start keeping score instead. And before long, the church begins to sound less like the father's house and more like the elder brother's lecture. The church loses its joy. Religion without grace not only drains individuals, it drains entire congregations. The joy is gone, the laughter dies. Worship feels heavy, tense, and performative. People no longer come to church to find help. They come to keep up experiencing. Church stops being a refuge for the broken and becomes a stage for the polished. The hurting no longer confess their sins because they know they will be judged, not healed. So people fake it. They smile through the pain. They say amen through sermons that only deepen their shame. They stopped going to the altar and start going to therapists, not because psychology is right or wrong, but because church stopped being safe. The place that was meant to be the center of grace and help has become for many the center of scrutiny and fear. We built sanctuaries where people feel condemned rather than comforted. Then we wonder why we why they seek help elsewhere. That's what happens when religion forgets grace. We lose the music of mercy and start marching to the drumbeat of performance. We do not even realize it, but we slowly become the very kind of religious people Jesus had so much trouble with. Loud about sin, quiet about love, moral on the outside, miserable on the inside, critical, judgmental, and terrified of being found imperfect. This is the life of the elder brother. And that's the danger of the modern church when grace is replaced by appearance. That's why so many believers caught in performance-based religion end up living two lives. One they show on Sunday, and another they live the rest of the week. At church they speak with confidence. At home or work, they struggle quietly with the various sins they condemn so loudly. Because they built their faith around appearances, they think that being vocal against sin, especially sins they secretly fight themselves, somehow earns them credibility. Maybe it gains them points with God, or at least respect from other Christians. But it does not heal their heart. It only deepens the split inside. They live torn in two, half pretending, half ashamed, caught between wanting to be seen as strong and knowing they're not. That's the tragic fruit of religion without grace. Hypocrisy that does not come from malice, but from exhaustion. We become much more like the elder brother or the Pharisees, unintentionally becoming the very people Jesus had so much trouble with. We defend rules rather than show mercy. We focus on control instead of compassion. We trade joy for judgment and call it holiness. When grace disappears, love becomes conditional, and faith becomes theater, and joy leaves the church. When grace leaves the message, the joy leaves the church. Worship turns stiff, prayer turns mechanical, love turns selective. We stop celebrating sinners who come home because we've forgotten that we once were them. The truth is, you can be in the Father's house and steal far from his heart. You can serve him out of duty and never feel his delight. The elder brother had everything, but because he did not understand grace, he could not enjoy it. That's the tragedy of performance-based faith. It can make you moral but not merciful, zealous, but not joyful, obedient, but not free. That's the first thing I'd like to talk to you about and this elder brother, and tomorrow I'll follow up with a second part in the next article. I want you to know that our Father loves the prodigal and he loves those of us at stake. I want you to know that somehow we turned that into religion and what we do. And that's what we want to change. You don't have to measure up. Your father loves you, whether you're the prodigal or whether you're the older brother. He loves you and he cares. Thank you so much for listening. If this has been a blessing, maybe you could share it with someone else. Maybe it would be a blessing to them. Thank you so much for listening, and God bless you very much. He loves you today. Surely, goodness and mercy are chasing you every day of your life.
