Real Talk with Jenn

It’s raw, honest, and spiritually stirring—a powerful reflection on spiritual fatigue, disillusionment with performative church culture, and a longing for genuine connection with God.

Introduction

For several weeks now, I’ve been carrying a deep sorrow. At first, I thought it might be depression—but this feels different. It’s not just emotional—it’s spiritual. It’s a grief that reaches to the core of my being. I’ve known personal grief before, but this is heavier… deeper.

It feels like the grieving of the Holy Spirit.

Prophetically, I’ve seen signs of disconnection for some time, but now I believe the Holy Spirit is allowing me to feel the discontentment—His sorrow over what the Church has become in places. It’s not just something I see anymore; it’s something I carry.

And so, this poured out of me…

“I Need More”

I need something more.
More than the routine of Sunday church.

The doors open.
We walk in.
We greet one another—a glimpse of connection.
We head to our favorite spot.
Lord forbid someone is sitting in our seat.

Whew.
Got here in time. My seat is open.
I’m not late.
Well, maybe worship has already started.
But it’s dark—no one can see me.

Oh no. Please don’t talk to me.
I want to be invisible.
Get in, get out.
No handshake. No hug.
A smile and a nod will do.

I’m not here for deep conversation.
I want to hide in this place.
It’s big enough for that.
Please—no obligations, no expectations.

I’m exhausted from my week.
Sunday is self-care day.
Self.
Me. Myself. And I.

Lord forbid I’m here for relationships.
Yes… The One.
That’s why I came.
But why do I have to navigate this maze of thoughts and emotions just to feel Your presence?

Oh right—
I’ve neglected You all week.
And today is my catch-up day.

Okay, I’m here.
God… are You?

Or has this place become so self-serving—for others and for me—that we’ve left no room for You in Your own house?

Wait.
I am Your house.
Your walking, breathing, living sanctuary.

Yet I don’t feel You.
Not here.
Not anywhere.

I feel empty.

Maybe because relationship with the One can’t survive inside brick and mortar.
Not even in houses filled with 4… 400… or 4,000.

My heart wants more.
But I’ve given it to too many idols.
My vision is blurred. I can’t see the One.
My thoughts are consumed with expectations, obligations, demands—from society, from others, from myself.
I can’t hear the One.

My desires trick my soul.
To feel, to touch, to taste the extraordinary.
But I crave instant gratification.
I fail to sit. To wait.

I can’t feel the presence of the One.
So I go through the motions.
Sunday routine.

The preacher speaks—
but it sounds like a sales pitch.
Trying to get us to buy in.
His vision.
His dream.

Is he a pastor?
A shepherd?
Or just a businessman in a preacher’s suit?

Preacher man, please sit down.
There’s no meat at the table you’ve set.
No fruit.
No nourishment.
Again.

So self-serving.
The members dwindle.
They’re starving.

Is this what church has become?
A performance?
A brand?
A business?

Preacher man, take off the mask.
Lay it down.
Repent.
Surrender your man-made dreams—
a masquerade of false promises.

This is not worship.
This is not truth.

I’m exhausted.
Tired of the show.
The circus.
The greatest showman act.

Where are the shepherds?
Where is the heart of God?

But the businessman’s mask will fall.
The wolf will be exposed.
And escorted out.

A true shepherd will come.
Truth will return.
Healing will flow.

The table will be full of meat.
The hungry will be fed.
The thirsty will drink.
Jesus will be in our midst.

Jesus.
Come.
Have Your way.
The One.
Forgive us.

We are frail.
We’ve lost sight of truth.
We’ve been so self-serving.
Trapped in Sunday routines.
Trying to obtain.
To consume.

Let us not overspend Your grace and mercy.
Let us not become lukewarm.
Because our choices determine our temperature.

It’s time for self-reflection.
Detoxification.
Purification.

We are not ready for the One.
But we repent.
Of our selfishness.
Our idolatry.
Our pride.

We surrender our routines.
Our masks.
Our storytelling lies.
That lead to death and separation.

This man-made journey has taken us far from truth.

I’m tired.
I’m exhausted.
I need more.
I want more.

No more brick-and-mortar altars.
No more performance.
No more businessman in a preacher man’s suit.

Jesus.
Come.