This is About the Next Person Who Needs to Meet Jesus.

“Aprons Over Titles: Building a Church That Looks Like Jesus”

There’s a difference between a church that’s comfortable and a church that’s alive.
Comfortable churches maintain what already is.
Alive churches ignite what could be.

God didn’t call me to Heritage to maintain what already is —
He called me to ignite what could be.
To dream God-sized dreams and help us step into the future He’s already preparing.

And the truth is, we’re not going to get there by playing it safe, sitting in the same seats, and doing church as usual. No, we’re going to get there by putting on some aprons.

Because in this house, members wear aprons, not bibs.
Bibs say, “Feed me.”
Aprons say, “Put me to work.”
Bibs say, “I came to be served.”
Aprons say, “Whose feet can I wash?”

Jesus said, “The greatest among you will be the one who serves, not the one who is served.”
And when He said that, He didn’t say it from a throne — He said it while kneeling with a towel in His hands, washing the dust off His disciples’ feet.

So around here, we take that seriously.
That’s why members park in the back — because we’re making room for our guests up front.
We’re saying with our parking choices what we believe in our hearts:
This isn’t about me. This is about the next person who needs to meet Jesus.

Read those last four sentences again, slowly.

We’re preparing the house, setting the table, lighting the candles, and saying, “Welcome home.”
Because members aren’t the ones seated at the table — we’re the waiters.
We’re the ones who make sure the table is ready, the meal is hot, and the guests feel loved.

And when we serve like that, something supernatural happens —
Heaven starts touching earth.

That’s what giving does.
That’s what serving does.
That’s what apron-wearing, back-parking, towel-carrying believers do —
they make up there come down here.

We don’t serve because it’s easy; we serve because it’s eternal.
We’re not building Heritage to be impressive — we’re building it to be inclusive.
We want this to be a place of such radical love, hospitality, and grace that we won’t be able to build a building big enough to hold all the people God’s sending.

Because when the people of God get serious about serving, heaven notices — and the world comes running.

So grab your apron.
Smile at the guest who parks in your old spot.
Hold the door for the stranger who might become family.
And remember:

We’re not maintaining what was.
We’re igniting what could be.
We’re not just building a church.
We’re building a place where heaven touches earth.

The Best Is Yet to Come,

Rev. John Roberts