Golden Moments Report

Harris Creek | Titus Series, Week 1

Golden Moment #1: The Skeptic Gets Close

"From afar, I was very skeptical. I thought, you know, this is big. They've got 46 campuses. How do you shepherd 45,000 people? Like that's impossible. If it's big, it can't be biblical. And so they invite me close. They asked me to come and speak there one Sunday. And I started going in every single room that I went in, I was so impressed with the humility of the leadership there — their plans, how they made sure every one of their members was shepherded, how they would go into cities that lacked a healthy local expression of the church and plant churches there. And I was just like, this is crazy. And then Pastor Craig Rochelle invites Monica and I to spend the weekend with he and his wife. And I can't even get a question in because he's already done his homework on Harris Creek."

Why this moment works: The pastor uses his own skepticism as the dramatic engine of the story — he becomes the congregation's doubts before resolving them. The pivot from "if it's big, it can't be biblical" to genuine admiration is earned, not asserted, because he walked through it personally. The detail of Rochelle already knowing Harris Creek's specifics is a beautifully concrete payoff.

Rhetorically effective: This is expert narrative structure — the skeptic-converted-by-proximity arc. By voicing the cynicism that many in the congregation likely hold about large churches, the pastor earns the right to challenge that cynicism. It also models intellectual humility: he was wrong, he admitted it, and he learned. That's exactly the kind of leadership he's about to call the congregation to.

Why congregants will share it: "If it's big, it can't be biblical" is a phrase people will repeat — both because they've thought it and because they're now reconsidering it. The story also humanizes the pastor as someone who carries real doubts and updates his views when confronted with evidence. That combination of honesty and resolution is highly shareable.

Golden Moment #2: Leadership Is Everything — And That Means You

"Here's what I would tell you: leadership is everything. Everything rises and falls with leadership. And every one of you — lest you think I'm talking about church — every one of you is a leader. You have a sphere of influence. It might be your home. It might be your classroom. It might be your sorority, fraternity, your team, intramural. Every single person — your carpool line, your mahjong gang — every person here has a sphere of leadership. How are you doing at being God's leader to the people that he's entrusted to you? Because everything rises and falls with leadership."

Why this moment works: The rapid-fire list of spheres — carpool line, mahjong gang — does something important: it refuses to let anyone off the hook while also refusing to make anyone feel excluded. The repetition of "everything rises and falls with leadership" functions as a rhetorical anchor that lands harder the second time because the congregation now understands they're included in it.

Pastorally wise: This is a masterful pivot from institutional leadership to personal accountability. The pastor could have spent the whole sermon talking about elders and church structure — which would have been accurate but narrow. Instead, he democratizes the text's demands. Every listener walks out as a leader under examination. That's the kind of application that turns a sermon about church governance into a sermon about ordinary life.

Why congregants will share it: "The carpool line" and "the mahjong gang" will get repeated with a laugh — and then the laugh will give way to genuine reflection. Humor that opens a door to conviction is some of the most memorable preaching there is.

Golden Moment #3: Blameless Means the Accusations Don't Stick

"What does it mean to be blameless? Well, when others blame you, you have lots of alibis. They say, 'She was gossiping the other day,' and everybody goes, 'No, no — I know her well. She doesn't gossip. That's not her thing.' And they say, 'I saw him in Vegas acting unruly at the tables.' 'Not my neighbor. I know him well. I spent lots of time with him.' And people come and they say, 'No, no, that blame doesn't stick to them' — because they live a life above reproach. When accusations are made, everyone's like, 'There's no way. That's — I mean, we'll inspect it, but that does not seem consistent of them.'"

Why this moment works: This is precise, imaginative exegesis. Rather than offering a dictionary definition of "blameless," the pastor dramatizes it — he puts the word in motion through two vivid micro-scenarios that let the congregation see what blamelessness looks like in the wild. The phrase "that blame doesn't stick to them" is a genuine coinage worth remembering.

Theologically sound: The definition is exegetically responsible. "Blameless" (Greek: anegklētos) in Titus 1 does not mean sinless — it means without legitimate accusation that holds up under scrutiny. The pastor captures this nuance through story rather than Greek lexicography, which is exactly the right instinct. He holds the theological precision while making it accessible.

Why congregants will share it: "That blame doesn't stick to them" is the kind of phrase people will use in conversation this week. It's concrete, memorable, and immediately applicable to how people think about their own reputation and integrity. The Vegas illustration adds just enough color to make the abstract vivid.

Golden Moment #4: The Strongest Sermon in the Room

"Here's the biggest problem in the church today in America. You come into a place like this and a person like me strikes a deal with you: if you will just show up and pay up, then I will shut up and not ask anything of you — because I don't want to offend you. Typically they're servicing debt and they look out there when they're preaching and they see giving units. That's what you are. You're a giving unit. This is the conversation that happens in the church all the time. Not here. Won't happen here. I'm not going to water it down for you. I'm going to call us — myself included — to do what that book says, no matter what it costs."

Why this moment works: This is prophetic preaching at its most direct. The pastor names the transactional arrangement that quietly governs much of American church culture — and refuses it publicly, on the record, in front of his congregation. The rhetorical rhythm of "show up, pay up, shut up" is punchy and precise. The pivot to "Not here. Won't happen here." lands with real weight.

Theologically sound: This moment is grounded in a high view of Scripture and a shepherd's understanding of pastoral accountability. The pastor isn't performing courage here — he's articulating a genuine ecclesiology. He frames fidelity to the text as the non-negotiable, which is exactly the theological foundation the Titus passage is building toward. It's also a form of pastoral transparency that earns trust.

Why congregants will share it: "You're a giving unit" is a phrase that will circulate — partly because it's darkly funny and partly because it names something people have felt in other church experiences without having words for it. The contrast with "Not here" gives congregants something to be proud of and to tell others about their church.

Golden Moment #5: The Sibling Groups

"I led a young adult ministry — 20s, think post-college — and it grew to be the largest ministry in the world of its kind. And I had a front row seat of over a hundred thousand young adults that came through there in 12 years. You would see these sibling groups come through — four, five, six brothers and sisters — and all of them were amazing. I got to the place where I sat those sibling groups down and I interviewed them and looked for the patterns. And every single one of them came from a home with a mom and a dad who loved each other and loved God and lived out their faith. If I was to summarize it: their parents lived on mission. If you want to confuse a child, say that you believe there's a God and then don't live like it — or isolate that belief to an hour and a half on Sunday. You will confuse the fool out of a child."

Why this moment works: The credibility established at the opening ("a hundred thousand young adults") is not braggadocious — it's the foundation for what follows. The pastor is essentially saying: I have data, and here's what it shows. The move from observation to interview to pattern is the structure of good research, and it gives the application enormous weight. "You will confuse the fool out of a child" is a line that will outlast the sermon.

Pastorally wise: This moment is a masterclass in applying a text without moralism. Rather than simply saying "raise your kids in the faith," the pastor shows what that looks like from the outside — through the eyes of the children who received it. He also handles the single-parent caveat with genuine pastoral tenderness, neither ignoring it nor letting it dilute the core observation.

Why congregants will share it: Parents will repeat this story. The image of a pastor interviewing sibling groups to find the pattern is compelling on its own, and "you will confuse the fool out of a child" is exactly the kind of line that gets texted between spouses during the week.

Golden Moment #6: The Proof Is in the Prayer

"If what you believe never changes how you live, something has gone wrong. If what you believe never changes how you live, something has gone wrong. So in summary — how do you become a leader others should follow? One: lead well at home. Two: lead with character. Three: lead from truth. The number one determiner of how you live your life will be what you believe. The thrust of this text is truth lived privately, displayed publicly, and held doctrinally. You have to know what you believe. Because your beliefs have consequences. And I would hate for you to leave here and be like, 'Man, I've got to work harder to be a better leader.' No. That is not the application. You need to surrender. It's a surrendering. God, I can't — but your Holy Spirit inside of me can."

Why this moment works: The double repetition of "If what you believe never changes how you live, something has gone wrong" is deliberate and effective — it functions as both summary and warning. But the real strength of this moment is the final pivot: the pastor subverts the expected application. He refuses to let the sermon become a self-improvement program and redirects toward surrender. That's theologically courageous.

Theologically sound: This is the gospel hinge of the entire sermon. Everything before it has been about character, conduct, and leadership — all of which could devolve into works-righteousness. The pastor catches it and corrects it: "You need to surrender." The distinction between trying harder and yielding to the Spirit is not a small one, and naming it explicitly is the move that keeps this sermon evangelical rather than moralistic.

Why congregants will share it: "Truth lived privately, displayed publicly, and held doctrinally" is a compact, memorable formulation that people will write in their journals. And "I can't — but your Holy Spirit inside of me can" is the kind of line that shows up in quiet moments during the week when someone is facing something hard.

A Final Word to the Pastor

The greatest overall strength of this sermon is your ability to move fluidly between the institutional and the personal — between what the church needs and what you need, between what Titus was told and what the person in the third row is living. You never let the text stay at the level of church governance when it could land at the level of someone's kitchen table or apartment or carpool line.

The thread that ties all six golden moments together is credibility earned through proximity. Whether it's visiting churches in Boulder, interviewing sibling groups, spending a weekend with another pastor, or disclosing your own accountability structures — you consistently move from the general to the specific, from the theoretical to the witnessed. You don't just assert things; you show your work. That instinct is rare and worth protecting.

The gift you should keep leaning into is your willingness to subvert the expected application. You did it twice in this sermon — once when you told the congregation they weren't the target audience and then showed them they were, and again when you refused to let the sermon end as a self-improvement checklist and redirected toward surrender. That move — the pivot away from moralism toward grace — is what separates good preaching from transformative preaching. Trust it.

You are clearly a pastor who has lived what he preaches and thought hard about why it matters. That combination — lived experience and theological clarity — is what makes people lean in. Keep preaching like someone who has something real to say, because you do.