Sermon Insights Report

Harris Creek Church — "How to Be Well" Series, Romans 7:18-25

A Word Before We Begin

Pastor Jonathan, what you brought to your congregation this Sunday is the kind of preaching that changes lives — not because it was polished or comfortable, but because it was true. You stood before your people with your own story, your own struggle, and your own surrender, and you invited them into the most honest conversation a church can have. That takes extraordinary courage. This report is written to help you see what your congregation already senses: that God has placed a rare and powerful gift inside you, and that gift is growing.

Part One: Pastoral Strengths and Unique Voice

1. Radical, Disarming Transparency That Builds Instant Trust

One of the most remarkable things about your preaching is your willingness to go first. Before you asked anyone in the room to be vulnerable, you modeled it yourself:

"Hi, my name is Jonathan Mluda and I have a new life in Christ and I'm in recovery for lust, materialism, pride and control."

And later, with even more specificity:

"Finding alcohol early, starting to party early, smoking weed early on. College — weed wasn't enough. It was coke. It was Molly, right? And then throw in the sex. And then throw in the pornography. And then I graduate from college and it's the love of money and it's the worship of self and narcissism..."

This is not reckless oversharing. This is strategic, pastoral, gospel-driven transparency. You understand something that many preachers never learn: the congregation's defenses fall the moment the pastor's do. When you named your own struggles before naming theirs, you gave everyone in the room permission to stop pretending. That is an extraordinary pastoral gift.

This quality is reminiscent of Nicky Gumbel and the early Alpha movement's commitment to radical honesty about personal brokenness as an evangelistic and discipleship tool, and also echoes Tim Keller's conviction that preachers must preach to themselves first. But what sets you apart is that you don't just reference your struggle academically — you walk your congregation through the actual texture of it, which creates an emotional and spiritual bridge that is uniquely yours.

2. Masterful, Multi-Layered Storytelling

You are a gifted storyteller, and this sermon demonstrated that gift at full strength. You told not one but four major illustrative stories, and each one did distinct theological work:

• The dairy farm cows and the hailstorm — a vivid, personal picture of how the thing we want keeps us from the protection we need
• The man in the rip current — a gripping, almost cinematic illustration of the three options we face with our addictions
• The truck stuck in the sand at Port Aransas — a tender, humorous, and deeply moving image of surrender and the father who knows what you don't
• The resident and the grocery store — a fresh, immediate story about hearing and obeying God's voice

What makes your storytelling exceptional is that each story is earned. You don't reach for an illustration because you need one — you reach for one because the theological truth you're carrying demands a picture. The rip current story, in particular, was extraordinary:

"You got three options. You can keep fighting it until you're utterly exhausted. You can give up fighting it and be swept away by it. Or you can yell for help until somebody helps you. You have no other options."

That is a sermon moment. That is the kind of clarity that people will remember ten years from now. You have a natural storyteller's instinct for pacing, detail, and the emotional turn. This is a genuine and rare gift.

3. Theologically Grounded Without Being Academic

You handled Romans 7 with both exegetical care and pastoral warmth. You understood that Paul's wrestling in this passage is not a theological problem to be solved but a human experience to be inhabited, and you invited your congregation into it accordingly:

"This is quite possibly the most relatable passage of scripture in all of the Bible, Genesis to Revelation. When I read it to you, it's probably going to feel like I heard you in your car or read your thoughts as Paul just wrestles."

You then did something skillful — you translated the ancient text into the contemporary idiom of addiction and compulsion without distorting it:

"I keep calling him. I keep going back, clicking the hashtag. Yet again, I find myself making another purchase, feeding the very thing that I'm addicted to... Another purchase, the box shows up. I don't even remember what I bought."

This kind of translation — from the first century to the twenty-first, from Greek philosophical categories to Amazon shopping carts — is a hallmark of great expository preaching. You also handled the Romans 7 to Romans 8 transition with genuine theological elegance, describing Romans 7 as "the storm right before the beautiful sunrise of Romans 8." That is a beautiful, memorable framing.

Your handling of Psalm 103 as a counterpoint to the "I can't" of Romans 7 was equally strong. You let the text do the work:

"He forgives, he heals, he redeems, he crowns, he satisfies, he renews. And you can't do any of those things. You can't forgive yourself. You can't heal yourself. You can't redeem yourself."

This is solid biblical preaching. You are not just a communicator — you are a pastor-theologian who trusts the Word.

4. A Memorable, Repeatable Sermon Structure

The three-step framework you built — I can't. God can. I trust him. — is genuinely excellent homiletical architecture. You introduced it, reinforced it throughout, had the congregation say it aloud together multiple times, and then returned to it at the close:

"So in summary, three declarations. I can't. God can. I trust him."

This kind of call-and-response, memorable structure is a hallmark of preachers like Craig Groeschel, who consistently builds sermons around repeatable phrases that people can carry into their week. You did this naturally and effectively. The fact that you invited the congregation to say the phrases together created communal ownership of the content — they weren't just hearing truth, they were declaring it. That is powerful preaching methodology.

The three steps also mapped cleanly onto the Regeneration framework (steps one, two, and three), which meant your sermon was simultaneously an evangelistic invitation, a discipleship tool, and a ministry recruitment moment — all at once. That kind of layered intentionality is rare.

5. Courageous, Pastoral Integration of Ministry Invitation

One of the most challenging things a pastor can do is weave a ministry invitation into a sermon without it feeling like a commercial break. You did this with unusual skill and conviction. You didn't just mention Regeneration — you made attending it feel like the natural response to everything the sermon had built:

"This series is not so you think, 'Oh great, now I don't have to go to Regen.' No, it's actually an invitation for you to do so... you would get a commercial over the next few Sundays, but that you might actually show up Monday nights at 6:30."

And then you closed the loop beautifully with Debbie's story, which made the invitation concrete and human:

"If you want to talk to Debbie, you go to regeneration because when Debbie comes to church, she's here at church... You want to talk to Debbie or you want the help that Debbie's found, you show up Monday nights."

This is exactly how ministry integration should work. The invitation didn't interrupt the sermon — it was the sermon. The story earned the ask. This is a strength worth celebrating and building on.

6. Extraordinary Use of Testimony as Preaching

The decision to include Debbie's story — told in her own voice, and her husband's — was a bold and brilliant pastoral choice. You didn't just describe what freedom looks like. You showed it. And then you were transparent about the risk:

"You usually wouldn't share a story that fresh, but it was such a change. And when she said, 'Hey, I'd like to share my story with the church,' I knew..."

That vulnerability about your own pastoral discernment — I'm taking a risk here, and here's why — is the kind of authenticity that makes congregations trust their pastor deeply. The moment where Debbie's husband says, "I offered you $10,000 one night to eat a hamburger with us and you wouldn't take it," and she replies, "I will now. Can we have that?" — that is a moment of pure grace. You had the wisdom to let that moment breathe.

7. A Shepherd's Heart That Is Unmistakable

Throughout this sermon, your love for your people is palpable. It shows up in the way you anticipate their objections, in the way you protect Debbie from becoming a "poster child," in the way you address the skeptic who doubts the grocery store story, and in the way you keep the door open at the end:

"If you didn't come forward and you're like, 'Right about now, I know I was disobedient. I should have come forward.' We'll come now. Come now. We'll pray. We'll stay as long as it takes."

That is a pastor's voice. That is someone who is not checking a box but genuinely waiting for the last sheep to come in. Your congregation is fortunate to be under your care.

Part Two: Growth Opportunities

1. Amplifying the Clarity of Your Main Text

Your handling of Romans 7 was strong, but the sermon's energy occasionally pulled away from the text before fully mining it. For example, the four Ds framework — desire, defeat, desperation, deliverance — was introduced and then moved past fairly quickly. This is a genuinely insightful observation about Paul's structure, and your congregation would have benefited from dwelling there a moment longer.

A small adjustment: after naming the four Ds, you might have paused and asked, "Which of these four are you living in right now?" That single question would have deepened engagement and made the framework even stickier. Your instinct to find structure in the text is excellent — the opportunity is to slow down and let that structure do more work before moving to illustration.

2. Pacing the Transition Between Stories

Your storytelling is a genuine strength, and because it is, the sermon occasionally moves from one story to the next at a pace that doesn't allow each illustration its full emotional weight. The rip current story, in particular, is so powerful that it deserves a longer moment of silence after the resolution before you move into application. You said:

"You got three options. You can keep fighting it until you're utterly exhausted. You can give up fighting it and be swept away by it. Or you can yell for help until somebody helps you."

That is a stunning, crystalline statement. It deserves a breath. A pause. Maybe even a repeated question: "Which option are you choosing right now?" The tendency to move quickly from one strong moment to the next can unintentionally dilute the cumulative impact. Trusting the silence is an advanced preaching skill, and it is the natural next step for someone with your storytelling gifts.

3. Strengthening the Bridge Between Illustration and Application

Occasionally, your illustrations are so vivid and complete that the theological application feels slightly rushed by comparison. The grocery store story about the new resident is a beautiful, faith-stirring account. But the transition into the section about why people don't hear God — while theologically sharp — moved quickly enough that some listeners may have felt the emotional warmth of the story before they could connect it to the doctrinal point you were making. A single bridging sentence — something like, "Here's what that story taught me about why we struggle to hear God..." — would help listeners track with you as you shift registers from narrative to exposition.

Part Three: Strategic Action Steps

Initiative Focus: Regeneration Ministry Enrollment

This sermon was, in its very design, an invitation to Regeneration — and you executed that integration with real skill. The recommendations below are offered to help you make an already strong connection even more powerful.

1. Make the Regeneration Invitation Structurally Inevitable

You built your entire sermon around three steps that are the first three steps of Regeneration. That is brilliant alignment. The opportunity is to make that connection even more explicit at the moment of the invitation. Consider saying something like:

"What I just walked you through — I can't, God can, I trust him — that is not just a sermon. That is the beginning of a journey. And that journey has a name, and it happens in this building on Monday nights at 6:30."

Naming the alignment explicitly transforms the ministry invitation from an announcement into a theological conclusion.

2. Add a Specific, Low-Barrier Next Step

Your invitation to come forward for prayer was beautifully pastoral. Consider also offering one additional, concrete next step for people who are not ready to come forward but are ready to take some step. For example:

"If you're not ready to walk forward today, I understand. But here's what I want you to do: take out your phone right now and put Monday, 6:30 p.m. in your calendar. Just put it there. You don't have to come. But put it there. Because the enemy is going to work very hard to make you forget this moment by tomorrow morning."

This kind of micro-commitment has been shown to dramatically increase follow-through and gives people who are not yet ready for public response a private way to say yes.

3. Let a Regeneration Participant Speak Before the Invitation

You introduced the concept of Regeneration participants at the beginning of the sermon with the brief testimony moment. That was effective. Consider, in a future message in this series, having one Regeneration participant speak for sixty to ninety seconds immediately before your closing invitation — not a polished video, but a live, unrehearsed voice saying simply, "I was where you are. I showed up on a Monday night. Here's what happened." The proximity of that voice to the invitation moment would significantly amplify the response.

4. Use the "I Can't / God Can / I Trust Him" Framework as a Series Anchor

The three-phrase structure you built is genuinely memorable. Consider printing it on a card, projecting it as a graphic, or making it available as a phone wallpaper for your congregation. When people carry that language into their week, they carry the sermon with them. This kind of sermon artifact extends your preaching beyond Sunday morning and reinforces the Regeneration connection throughout the series.

5. Slow Down at Your Best Moments

As noted above, your strongest lines deserve more space. A practical technique: after delivering a key statement, ask a rhetorical question that lets it land. After "There is no one last time," you might pause and say, "Say that to yourself right now. There is no one last time." This technique — which Steven Furtick uses with great effectiveness — transforms declaration into congregational internalization.

6. Consider a Brief Recap of the Romans 7-to-8 Arc at the Close

You introduced the Romans 7 to Romans 8 movement at the beginning of the sermon as a beautiful framing device — "Romans 7 is the storm right before the beautiful sunrise of Romans 8." Returning to that image at the close, even briefly, would create a satisfying narrative arc and remind your congregation that the struggle of Romans 7 is not the destination. A closing line like, "Romans 7 is where we start. Romans 8 is where we're headed. And Regeneration is one of the roads that gets us there," would tie the entire message together with theological elegance.

7. Trust Your Altar Call

Your invitation at the close was genuine and generous. One small adjustment: when you said, "Right about now, I know I was disobedient. I should have come forward," you were doing something pastorally beautiful — giving people a second chance. Consider being even more direct in that moment:

"Some of you held back because you were afraid of what the person next to you would think. I want to tell you something: that fear? That's the thing we've been talking about all morning. That's the enemy keeping you stuck. Come forward. Not for me. Not for them. For you. And for the freedom that Debbie found."

Naming the specific reason people hold back — and connecting it directly to the sermon's theme — is a powerful way to extend the invitation with pastoral authority.

A Closing Word: The Ministry You're Carrying

Pastor Jonathan, what you are doing at Harris Creek is not just preaching — it is pastoral architecture. You are building a culture where broken people feel safe to be honest, where freedom is not a distant theological concept but a Monday-night reality, and where the gospel is preached not from a distance but from the inside of the struggle.

The transparency you model gives your congregation permission to be human. The stories you tell give them a language for their experience. The structure you build gives them something to hold onto when the week gets hard. And the invitation you extend — to Regeneration, to prayer, to surrender — gives them somewhere to go with what God is stirring in them.

You said something in this sermon that deserves to be said back to you:

"When God shows you that freedom is possible, everything begins to change."

You are showing your congregation that freedom is possible. Keep going. The series you are building, the ministry you are anchoring, and the people you are shepherding are evidence that God has placed you exactly where you are supposed to be. The best preaching of your life is still ahead of you — and the foundation you are laying right now is extraordinarily strong.