Easy Street Preacher

1 · Welcome to Easy Street

There’s a neighborhood in almost every town called Easy Street. Zillow says the homes are cozy, the lawns are trimmed, and the HOA guarantees peace and quiet—no barking dogs, no loud parties, and certainly no uncomfortable conversations. Everyone wants to live there.

College has its own version. Air-conditioned dorms, mobile food orders, Wi-Fi strong enough to stream four sermons while we nap through all of them. We love Easy Street because it promises life without friction.

But what happens when Easy Street becomes the address of our faith? When following Jesus is supposed to feel like sitting in a recliner with surround-sound worship music?

Jesus never said, “Take up your couch and follow Me.” He said, “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.”

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2 · The Rise of the Easy Street Gospel

We’ve learned how to market religion like a phone upgrade—“faster, lighter, with improved blessings!” Churches compete on convenience: shorter sermons, bigger screens, stronger coffee. We’ve baptized comfort and called it discipleship.

But Christ doesn’t call us to luxury; He calls us to loyalty. Comfort is a wonderful servant but a terrible master. It lulls you to sleep while the Kingdom marches on.

C. S. Lewis once wrote, “I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of port would do that.” The gospel isn’t a mood; it’s a mission.

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3 · The Gospel of Self-Care Gone Too Far

Self-care has its place. Even Jesus rested. But our culture has replaced the cross with the couch.

We chant, “Protect your peace,” while ignoring, “Deny yourself.”

We treat obedience as optional, holiness as heavy, and sacrifice as outdated.

The result? A generation of believers fluent in hashtags but illiterate in hardship.

We know how to post our faith but not how to persevere in it.

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4 · When Comfort Becomes a Cage

Comfort is sneaky—it doesn’t chain your hands, it cushions them.

It says, “Stay here. It’s safe.”

But growth always happens just past the edge of comfort.

Ask Daniel if it was comfortable to pray with the windows open.

Ask Paul if prison had a coffee bar.

Ask Jesus if Gethsemane felt peaceful.

If our Christianity costs nothing, it’s worth about that much.

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5 · Fast-Faith Nation

We are the drive-thru generation: quick prayers, quick fixes, quick exits.

We crave grace in a to-go cup—hot, sweet, and low-risk.

And here’s where the satire lands:

> “We’ve turned discipleship into a rewards-program religion.

Del Taco issues the sacraments, Amazon ships the anointing oil, and Spotify queues our worship playlist.

We’ve mistaken consumption for communion.

So, who serves the better sacraments—Del Taco or Dunkin Donuts? Depends on whether you want the body of Christ grilled or glazed.

Sweet or savory communion today? Gluten-free? Flax seed or chia seed?

Because in our age, even holiness comes with menu options.

But friends, the Lord’s Table isn’t customizable. You don’t build your own cross. You come, broken, to receive what only He can give.”

The laughter fades, but the point remains: we’ve reduced the sacred to convenience. We want communion without confession, calling without cost.

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6 · The Easy Street Preacher

He’s smooth, relatable, and always smiling. He never mentions sin because it might ruin the mood.

He preaches blessing without brokenness, grace without repentance, heaven without holiness.

He wants followers, not disciples.

And sometimes—let’s be honest—we’re all that preacher.

We tell ourselves, “God wants me comfortable.”

But the Jesus of Scripture seems far more interested in making us courageous.

Easy Street preaching is contagious because it’s pleasant.

But pleasant truth rarely transforms anyone.

The Word that saves you first has to wound your pride.

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7 · The Narrow Road Invitation

Jesus said the road that leads to life is narrow and few find it.

The wide road is Easy Street—crowded, glittering, smooth. The narrow road has potholes and crosses. Yet that’s where joy lives.

Following Christ was never about being safe; it’s about being sent.

You may lose comfort, reputation, even relationships—but you gain His presence.

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8 · Discipleship in the Furnace

The early believers sang in prison, shared food during famine, and faced lions with hymns on their lips.

Their faith wasn’t polished; it was proven.

They didn’t tweet #blessed—they bled.

And somehow, their joy burned brighter than ours ever will on Easy Street.

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9 · The Lie of “God Wants Me Happy”

Our generation has baptized this lie in essential oils and inspirational fonts:

> “God just wants me happy.”

No—He wants you holy, and holiness brings a deeper joy than happiness ever can.

Holiness can survive heartbreak. Happiness can’t.

When you make comfort your god, you’ll sacrifice anything to keep it—your convictions, your courage, even your compassion.