What is Faith?

Pastor Mike Slaughter | April 19, 2026

I’ve been around the church a long time. Long enough to see trends come and go. Long enough to know what sticks—and what doesn’t. And if I’m honest, there are moments these days when I feel a little fed up with what the church has become. Not because I’ve lost faith in Jesus. Not at all. But because I wonder if we’ve stopped actually listening to Him.

That’s where I want to begin.

In Matthew 17, right after the Mount of Transfiguration, Peter, James, and John have this powerful, mountaintop experience with Jesus. They hear the voice of God: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to Him.” That’s not complicated. Listen to Him.

But here’s the question I keep coming back to: are we?

Because from where I sit, it seems like a lot of people in the church are listening to everything but Jesus. We’re tuning into cable news, political voices, cultural commentators—but not the Son. And if we’re not listening to Him, we shouldn’t be surprised when our lives don’t look much like His.

So I want to talk about three words that have shaped my understanding of faith over the years: absence, action, and allegiance.

First—absence.

We often think faith means having no doubts. That if you really believe, you won’t struggle. I’ve got to tell you—that’s just not true. I’ve been a pastor for over four decades. I’ve studied Scripture. I’ve preached thousands of sermons. And I still have doubts.

Even now, I wrestle at times. The resurrection—do I fully understand it? No. Do I sometimes struggle with it? Yes.

But faith isn’t the absence of doubt. Faith is what you do in the presence of doubt.

One of my favorite prayers in Scripture comes from a desperate father who says to Jesus, “I do believe; help my unbelief.” That’s honest. That’s real. And that’s where many of us live.

So what do we do with that?

We activate the mustard seed.

Jesus says if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains. He didn’t say you need perfect faith. He didn’t say you need massive faith. He said you need active faith.

That’s been my approach my whole life. Not perfect faith. Not certainty about everything. Just taking whatever small measure of faith I have—and putting it into motion.

Second—action.

Here’s something that might surprise you. In the Gospels, Jesus says “follow me” 87 times. You know how many times He says “worship me”? Zero.

Now think about that.

We’ve built a whole system around worship services—and don’t get me wrong, worship matters—but Jesus’ primary invitation was not to attend something. It was to follow Him.

And following Him isn’t easy.

He talks about taking up your cross. Losing your life. Loving your enemies. Giving to the poor. Serving the marginalized. There is nothing simple about it.

Yet somewhere along the way, we’ve tried to reduce it to a formula. Pray this prayer. Believe these things. And you’re good.

But Jesus never offered that kind of simplicity. He offered a way of life.

I had a Jewish friend once ask me, “What’s wrong with Christians? They don’t even follow Jesus’ teachings.”

That question stuck with me.

Because what if our witness to the world isn’t about how loudly we profess belief—but how faithfully we live out His teachings?

Jesus makes it very clear in Matthew 25. When He talks about judgment, He doesn’t mention church attendance or theological correctness. He talks about feeding the hungry. Welcoming the stranger. Visiting the sick and imprisoned.

“Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.”

That’s not a side issue. That’s central.

And yet, I’ve had people push back on that. I remember when we were building homes for low-income families, or running job training programs, and someone told me, “It seems like you care more about getting people into houses than into heaven.”

But here’s what I believe with all my heart: Jesus didn’t come just to get us into heaven someday. He came to bring heaven into us—right now. To work through us. To use us as His hands and feet in the world.

When people ask, “Why does God allow suffering?” I think we need to be honest. A lot of the time, it’s not that God allows it—it’s that we do. We have the resources. We have the capacity. But we don’t act.

Which leads to the final word—allegiance.

The gospel is the gospel of the Kingdom of God. And Jesus said that Kingdom is not just something future or far away—it’s here. It’s among us.

So the question becomes: where does our allegiance lie?

Because when you pledge your life to Jesus, you are pledging allegiance to His Kingdom above all else. Above political parties. Above national identities. Above ideologies.

That’s uncomfortable, especially in a world that constantly tries to pull us into “us vs. them” thinking.

But Jesus doesn’t fit neatly into any of our categories.

We are not called to be cheerleaders for the state. We are called to be the conscience of the state.

History has shown us what happens when the church forgets that. When it stays silent in the face of injustice. When it aligns itself too closely with power.

Silence in the face of evil is not neutral—it’s complicity.

I’ve seen things firsthand that I can’t unsee. I’ve been in places where children survive on a single source of food for months at a time. I’ve seen what happens when systems fail the most vulnerable.

And I believe with everything in me that followers of Jesus are called to step into those spaces—not out of politics, but out of obedience.

Because our allegiance is to a King who said, “Love your neighbor.” A King who said, “Blessed are the poor.” A King who identified Himself with “the least of these.”

So let me bring this back to where we started.

Are we listening to Him?

Not just agreeing with Him. Not just admiring Him. But actually listening—and responding.

Faith is not the absence of doubt. It’s the willingness to act in the middle of it.

Faith is not just belief. It’s following.

Faith is not divided allegiance. It’s a wholehearted commitment to the Kingdom of God.

And if we would take even a mustard seed of that kind of faith—and put it into action—I believe we’d start to see mountains move.