In this episode, Dusty becomes Andrew’s therapist as he vents about basically everything.

The guys jump into a conversation that picks up from the last episode—this time digging into the idea of a whole church doing the same Bible study together. Andrew has... thoughts. Like, a lot of them. And Dusty? He mostly listens, throws in a few jokes, and keeps the mic from catching on fire.

They talk about how their church is doing a 40-day reading plan through Matthew and Romans. The idea is that everyone’s on the same page—literally. If someone in accounting is reading the same thing as someone on the worship team, it makes spiritual conversations easier and less weird. You can be like, “Hey, what’d you learn today?” and it doesn’t feel awkward.

But Andrew’s not totally sold. He’s got concerns about whether these group studies are Spirit-led or just pastor-led. He wonders if we’re really following God—or just doing what the church tells us. He brings up fasting, church schedules, leadership styles, and even his own issues with submitting to authority. It’s honest. It’s a little messy. It’s definitely real.

Dusty pushes back a bit, reminding Andrew that submitting to leadership isn’t always bad. Sometimes you just do it. Even if you don’t feel it. Even if it feels like a fad. Because growth can still happen. And also... it’s just 40 days.

They also talk about how church people are all at different spiritual levels. So one plan might feel too basic for some and too deep for others. But Dusty points out—it’s only 10 minutes a day. You can still go deeper on your own, and it might even open up chances for discipleship.

By the end, Andrew admits it’s not really a leadership problem. It’s more of a “me” problem. He’s still doing the study, even though he doesn’t love it. And Dusty, well, he basically wins therapy today.

If you've ever struggled with church plans, leadership, or just doing something you don’t feel like doing, this episode is for you. Also, if you're a tier 3 Christian subscriber... Andrew sees you.

In this engaging episode of the Bible Belt Bros Podcast, hosts Dusty and Andrew dive deep into the transformative experience of youth church camp, exploring the spiritual highs, challenges, and lasting impact of these powerful ministry moments. Fresh off a week at youth camp, Dusty brings his slightly raspy voice and abundant enthusiasm as he shares firsthand accounts of what happened during their church's independent camp experience.

The hosts discuss their church's decision to move away from the traditional Falls Creek camp experience, opting instead to rent out an entire camp facility for their youth ministry. This strategic choice allowed them greater flexibility, cost savings, and the ability to customize their program without being constrained by other camps' rules and schedules. Dusty explains how this approach enabled them to accommodate their growing youth group more effectively while maintaining their unique ministry style.

The camp theme "Best is Yet to Come" takes on special significance as they reveal that their current youth pastor, Kyle Henderson, will be transitioning to lead pastor in September, adding an element of transition and anticipation to the week's activities.

Dusty provides detailed insight into the camp's daily rhythm, which was intentionally designed to maximize spiritual growth and minimize distractions. The structured day began at 7:30 AM with loud music to wake everyone up, followed immediately by mandatory quiet time with God - a practice that set the spiritual tone for each day. This was followed by breakfast, morning worship, grade-specific small group breakouts (segregated by gender and grade level), lunch, and specialized afternoon breakout sessions.

The afternoon sessions offered students choices based on their interests and calling, including sessions on ministry calling, Christian business leadership (led by Sarah from Boulder Coffee discussing the balance between service and sustainability), and worship leadership that emphasized leading people to Christ rather than just performing songs well.

The hosts discuss the camp's worship music, highlighting two significant songs that became anthems for the week. "Before and After" served as a powerful testimony song, particularly meaningful to Marin, a recent high school graduate developing as a worship leader. Despite losing her voice during camp, Marin's experience became a teaching moment about true worship leadership - focusing on leading people to encounter God rather than perfect vocal performance.

"Hail Hill Lion of Judah" emerged as the high-energy, participatory song that got everyone moving and shouting. Dusty notes the challenge of translating these camp-specific songs to regular Sunday morning services, acknowledging that what works in the heightened atmosphere of camp may not translate directly to weekly worship experiences.

The conversation takes a thoughtful turn as they address the spiritual intensity of camp, including baptisms and rededications. However, they also tackle the concerning pattern they observed of students making repeated commitments - with one student reportedly getting "saved" five times and baptized multiple times during just this one camp week. This leads to a broader discussion about the effectiveness of emotional decision-making versus genuine life transformation.

Andrew shares his frustration with what he perceives as circular movement rather than forward progress, questioning whether students are truly growing or simply repeating emotional experiences without substantial change. The hosts emphasize that their youth group "The Movement" should represent actual forward motion in spiritual growth, not repetitive cycles of the same decisions.

Perhaps the most substantial portion of the episode focuses on the phenomenon of "camp high" - the spiritual and emotional elevation students experience during intensive Christian retreats and camps. Rather than dismissing this experience, the hosts provide biblical grounding for understanding spiritual highs.

Dusty draws parallels to Moses' experience on Mount Sinai, where his face glowed from being in God's presence, with that glow gradually fading over time. Andrew adds the account from Mark 9, where Peter, James, and John witnessed Jesus' transfiguration and Peter's desire to build shelters and remain on the mountain permanently. This biblical precedent validates the reality of spiritual highs while also demonstrating that the normal pattern involves returning to the valley for ministry and daily life.

The hosts provide practical analysis of why camp experiences are so powerful. The removal of technological distractions (all phones were confiscated) combined with structured spiritual disciplines creates an environment where students can focus entirely on God without the constant pull of social media, entertainment, and other diversions.

The daily rhythm of beginning each day with Bible study and prayer, followed by worship, teaching, small group discussion, and peer accountability, creates a spiritual immersion experience that most students never experience in their regular lives. This intensive focus on spiritual matters, combined with the community aspect of shared experience with peers, generates powerful emotional and spiritual responses.

The discussion acknowledges the inevitable reality that camp highs fade when students return to their normal routines. The hosts explain that students typically revert to sleeping in, consuming entertainment media, and following the same patterns that dominated their lives before camp. The structured spiritual disciplines that created the camp high are abandoned in favor of familiar comfort patterns.

However, rather than seeing this as entirely negative, they frame it using hiking metaphors. Just as mountain climbers must descend from peaks to continue their journey to other mountains, spiritual highs are meant to be launching pads for continued growth rather than permanent destinations. The valley experiences, while less emotionally intense, are where actual ministry and life application occur.

Andrew provides specific, actionable advice for parents wanting to support their children's post-camp spiritual growth. As a parent himself of a camp attendee, he shares personal insights about the unique opportunity parents have compared to youth pastors. While youth leaders might have 2-3 hours of influence per week, parents have access to all the other hours.

His recommendations include asking deeper spiritual questions rather than surface-level check-ins, inquiring about what God is teaching them, offering to do Bible studies together, asking about specific prayer needs, and demonstrating personal spiritual disciplines. He shares his commitment to pray over his daughter each morning before school as a practical way to model putting God first while encouraging her to do the same with her friends.

The hosts emphasize that parents shouldn't try to recreate the emotional intensity of camp but should focus on consistent, authentic spiritual engagement that doesn't feel forced or overly spiritualized.

Toward the episode's end, Dusty shares some vulnerable thoughts about emotional authenticity in Christian settings. He expresses concern about what he perceives as manufactured emotional responses in some worship settings, where people seem to be trying to conjure feelings rather than allowing genuine spiritual encounters to unfold naturally.

While acknowledging his introvert tendencies may influence this perspective, he advocates for authentic spiritual experiences that don't require constant emotional intensity. He distinguishes between genuine spiritual moments that naturally produce tears or strong emotions versus situations where people seem to be performing expected emotional responses.

The episode concludes with clear challenges for both students and parents. Students are encouraged to view camp as a launching pad rather than a destination, continuing the spiritual momentum rather than waiting for the next emotional high. The hosts challenge students who were baptized or made commitments to focus on baptizing others next year rather than repeating the same decisions.

Parents receive the challenge to become better spiritual leaders in their homes, recognizing that sustained spiritual growth happens through consistent daily choices rather than periodic intense experiences.

The overarching message emphasizes that "The Movement" should represent actual forward progress in spiritual maturity, not circular patterns of repeated emotional experiences without corresponding life change.

This episode offers both practical ministry insights and thoughtful theological reflection on how intensive Christian experiences can be leveraged for long-term spiritual growth rather than becoming substitutes for daily discipleship.

In this heartwarming and humorous episode of the Bible Belt Bros Podcast, hosts Dusty and Andrew take listeners on an entertaining journey through Christian culture of the late 90s and early 2000s. What starts as a response to a listener email from their hometown becomes a delightful exploration of shared memories, awkward teenage moments, and the evolution of church youth culture.

The episode begins with the hosts sharing an unexpected email from Kerri, a listener who discovered their podcast on Amazon Prime Music and recognized them from their shared hometown of Aurora. This serendipitous connection leads to Dusty recounting a deeply embarrassing "core memory" from his youth - an awkwardly phrased question to Kerri's chicken farmer father that has apparently become family legend. The story perfectly encapsulates Dusty's self-aware humor about his social awkwardness, as he admits to accidentally insulting people without realizing it.

The conversation naturally transitions into a nostalgic discussion about the iconic "What Would Jesus Do" (WWJD) bracelets that dominated Christian culture in the late 90s and early 2000s. The hosts humorously theorize about why these bracelets disappeared, with Andrew jokingly suggesting "we all just now realized what Jesus would do, so we didn't have to keep asking." They explore whether these trends might cycle back like fashion trends, comparing them to bell-bottoms.

The discussion expands to include other Christian acronyms and sayings from their youth, including "WAJD" (Walk As Jesus Did) from their former pastor Rusty, and "FROG" (Fully Rely On God). They playfully suggest these four-letter Christian acronyms might have been alternatives to actual four-letter words, imagining someone stubbing their toe and exclaiming "What Would Jesus Do!"

The hosts dive deep into the fashion trends that defined their Christian teenage years. They reminisce about wooden cross necklaces, nail jewelry twisted into cross shapes, and the practice of shaving religious symbols into their hair. Andrew shares a particularly amusing story about asking Pastor Rusty to shave a cross in his head, which ended up looking more like a plus sign, earning him the reputation as "a positive dude around school."

Dusty shares a more recent and touching story about shaving a fish symbol in his hair when his mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, incorporating both the Christian fish symbol and a breast cancer ribbon before dyeing it pink. This moment shows how these symbolic gestures evolved from teenage fashion statements to meaningful expressions of faith and support.

One of the most thoughtful segments addresses the changes in "See You at the Pole," the annual prayer event at school flagpoles. The hosts contrast their authentic, student-led experiences with what they perceive as the more commercialized, production-heavy versions that developed over time. They express concern about how the original grassroots, student-driven nature of the event was lost when churches began organizing elaborate productions around it, complete with song leaders and structured programs.

This discussion reveals their deeper understanding of how institutionalization can sometimes diminish the authentic spiritual impact of organic movements. They emphasize how powerful it was when students gathered on their own initiative, without pastoral oversight or structured programming.

The conversation takes an interesting turn into church facility design and youth ministry philosophy. They discuss the trend of separate youth buildings that was popular during their teenage years, complete with superior sound systems, game rooms, and coffee house atmospheres. Dusty fondly remembers their church's coffee house venue and the ability to shut down entire city blocks for outdoor concerts and events - something only possible in their small town of Aurora.

Andrew introduces a more critical perspective, agreeing with their friend Kyle about the inefficiency of separate youth facilities. They explore how churches like Life Church have adopted more economical models by sharing resources across multiple locations, allowing for better quality equipment and materials through bulk purchasing and unified programming.

No discussion of 90s/2000s Christian culture would be complete without addressing the music scene. The hosts reminisce about Christian concerts and the surprisingly common practice of moshing at Christian rock shows. They mention specific bands like TFK (Thousand Foot Krutch) and Disciple, noting how these bands eventually discouraged moshing as it became too violent.

They contrast their memories of "Christian moshing" - which involved more jumping around and crowd surfing - with the fighting-style moshing that developed later. This leads to fond memories of moshing to unlikely songs, including Veggie Tales theme songs and Bible Man, showcasing the playful and sometimes absurd nature of their youth group experiences.

The hosts take a humorous look back at Christian children's programming, particularly Veggie Tales and Bible Man. While acknowledging these shows were meaningful to them as children, they admit to being shocked by how poorly they hold up today. Dusty shares his failed attempts to get his grandchildren interested in these shows, leading to the realization that what seemed high-budget and exciting in their youth now appears low-budget and cheesy.

They also discuss the Christian music scene of their era, mentioning influential bands like Audio Adrenaline, DC Talk, and Jars of Clay. The conversation touches on how Christian music served as an alternative to secular artists, with the distinctive deep-voiced radio DJs who would recommend Christian bands as alternatives to popular secular acts.

One of the most vivid memories shared involves "CD burning parties," where young Christians would literally burn their secular music collections as acts of spiritual commitment. Andrew describes participating in these events during the early days of his faith journey, admitting he had some CDs with explicit content that he was reluctant to give up.

The hosts compare different approaches to these events - some churches would burn the CDs in fires, while others (like Andrew's father did as a pastor) would create towers from the CDs and offer one-for-one trades for Christian alternatives. Dusty humorously admits his only secular CD at the time was a Dixie Chicks album, making his participation more about joining the group activity than making a significant sacrifice.

Throughout the episode, the hosts demonstrate remarkable self-awareness about their aging perspectives, frequently joking about sounding like "old men on front porches yelling at traffic" or "yelling at kids walking across our grass." They worry about whether they're still connecting with their target demographic or if they've become too nostalgic and out of touch.

This self-reflection adds depth to their reminiscence, as they acknowledge that their rose-colored memories might not reflect the complete reality of their experiences. They balance appreciation for their formative experiences with honest assessment of how those same cultural elements appear from their current adult perspectives.

Woven throughout the episode is a deep appreciation for small-town church community. The hosts paint vivid pictures of their experiences at First Baptist Aurora, from hide-and-seek games during lock-ins in the scary boiler room to hanging out in the women's bathroom (with appropriate precautions) because it had the most comfortable couch.

They describe a church culture that was more intimate and less polished than contemporary megachurch experiences, where the same building served multiple purposes and where everyone knew each other's families. This creates a nostalgic portrait of a time when church felt more like an extended family community center than a professional religious organization.

The hosts make several humorous references to their podcast production, including Dusty's tendency to accidentally insult people and his struggles with public speaking despite sounding confident on the podcast. They joke about extensive editing (though they claim not to script their conversations) and Andrew's reluctance to plan ahead.

These behind-the-scenes glimpses add authenticity to their presentation and help listeners understand the personalities behind the voices. Their self-deprecating humor and willingness to share embarrassing stories create an atmosphere of genuine friendship and relatability.

This episode ultimately celebrates the power of shared cultural experiences to create lasting bonds and meaningful memories. While the hosts poke fun at many aspects of their youth culture, they do so with genuine affection and recognition of how these experiences shaped their faith journeys and friendships.

The episode serves as both a time capsule of late 90s/early 2000s Christian culture and a meditation on how communities form around shared symbols, experiences, and awkward teenage moments. It's a reminder that even the cheesiest cultural elements can create profound connections between people and contribute to authentic spiritual development.

For listeners who lived through this era of Christian culture, the episode offers validation and community around shared experiences. For younger listeners, it provides insight into how Christian youth culture has evolved and perhaps inspiration for creating their own meaningful traditions and symbols.

Welcome back to another episode of the Bible Belt Bros Podcast, where faith meets funny and Bible studies become comedy gold! This week, Dusty and Andrew dive headfirst into their church's 40-day devotional journey through the book of Matthew, and let's just say it's been... an experience.

Dusty opens the episode with possibly the most humble-brag spiritual story ever told. After struggling with consistent quiet time (while his wife crushes it daily), he wakes up to find a Post-it note on his desk that says "Me first" - obviously from the Lord himself. Or was it from "the Lord" (aka his wife, who he's nicknamed after the Holy Spirit because they say suspiciously similar things)? Either way, Dusty's convinced he's operating on a special blue Post-it note level of divine communication.

Biblical Deep Dives (Sort Of):

Between the laughs, there are actually some solid insights about God using imperfect people, the importance of fasting before major decisions, not banking on your parents' faith, and the radical concept of over-blessing people who might not deserve it.

This episode perfectly captures what the Bible Belt Bros do best - finding the humor in trying to be good Christians while being completely honest about their struggles, pride, and the weird dynamics of church culture. From Post-it note prophecies to refusing to sign up for volunteer opportunities, they're keeping it real about what it actually looks like to do life in the church.

Whether you're crushing your daily devotions or struggling to make it past day 5, this episode will have you laughing, thinking, and maybe feeling a little better about your own messy faith journey. Plus, you'll learn why you should never skip the genealogy chapters and why John the Baptist was definitely more non-denominational than Southern Baptist.

Perfect for: Anyone who's ever felt spiritually inadequate, wondered about the weird stories in the Bible, or needed a good laugh about church life. Also perfect for people

Welcome to the warm, carpet-stained pews of Christian comedy. If you’ve ever been to church and left with more emotional bruises than a youth group dodgeball game, this one’s for you.

This is the Bible Belt Bros Podcast, where today we talk about something spiritual, something sacred, and something that’s honestly kind of annoying—church hurt. That glorious blend of disappointment, weird rules, and that one guy who took your seat for the last time.

So apparently, 10,000 Southern Baptists walked into a convention center, and it wasn't the setup to a joke. It was the setup to cancel everything fun in my life.

I'm talking about the Southern Baptist Convention's annual meeting, where they decided to target—and I quote—"pornography, sports betting, and same-sex marriage, as well as willful childlessness." Now, I get the first one. I understand the marriage thing. But sports betting? Really? You're coming for my FanDuel account?

And "willful childlessness"? What's next, are they going to start monitoring who's using birth control? Are they going to have a fertility committee? "Excuse me, Brother Johnson, we noticed you only have two kids. Care to explain?"

Here's where it gets personal. I'm sitting there listening to this news, and all I can think about is my church fantasy football league. Because apparently, according to these Southern Baptist overlords, I can't have a prize at the end of the season. No money involved. Just pure, competitive sadness.

You know what happens when you play fantasy football with no money on the line? People quit. They just stop. Week 6 rolls around, their team is 1-5, and they're like, "Well, I'm done setting my lineup." Meanwhile, you're stuck with some guy who's been starting players on bye weeks for the last month because he checked out mentally sometime around Halloween.

I've tried those church leagues with no money. It's like watching paint dry, except the paint is more exciting because at least it's making progress. These people will draft a team, lose three games, and then disappear faster than the church donuts after Sunday service.

"Put ten dollars on it for a full season, guys. Come on." But no, apparently that's gambling now. That's the devil's work. Next thing you know, they'll be telling us we can't flip coins to see who pays for lunch because that's "games of chance."

Living in Oklahoma, this hits different. We finally got some legal gambling options—you can play FanDuel, you can do prop betting on sites like PrizePicks. You pick two or three players, choose over or under on their stats, and if you're right, your five dollars can multiply.

But here's the thing about these bets: they're really hard to win. Somebody's always going to get hurt. Somebody's going to have a bad game. Somebody's going to get in foul trouble. Just the other day, some guy placed a seven-game parlay and got all the way to the Thunder game. He was projected to win $238,000 off a ten-dollar bet. The Thunder lost with three seconds left on the clock.

That's not gambling addiction—that's just Oklahoma sports breaking your heart in the most expensive way possible.

I'll be honest with you: I used to bet on baseball, and it was the most frustrating experience of my life. Think about it—the best players in the league are batting .300. That means they fail seven out of ten times. And these are the good players.

You'll bet on a team for a doubleheader, thinking, "They're going to win today." They lose the first game, then they win the second game 10-0, and you're sitting there like, "What did you not just do that the first game when I had money on it?"

Baseball betting taught me that sports betting is just paying money to be disappointed in new and creative ways. It's like marriage, but with worse odds.

But here's the thing that really got me thinking. While the Southern Baptist Convention is worried about my five-dollar fantasy football bets, they're completely missing the real problem in our churches: gossip.

Our pastor Michael preached on gossip recently, and honestly, it was one of his best sermons. Not because he wasn't preaching at me for once—though that was refreshing—but because he hit on something that actually matters.

You know what gossip is? It's talking about someone else's issues with no intent to help them or solve the problem. Simple as that. And churches are absolutely terrible about this.

Here's how gossip works in church: "Hey, we need to pray for so-and-so because they're really struggling. They got drunk last week, and they're making poor decisions, and their marriage is falling apart, and did you hear about what happened at their job?"

And everyone's like, "Oh yes, let's pray for them." But really, we just want the details. We want to know what happened. We want to be in the know.

I used to make fun of people who gave "unspoken prayer requests." Like, if you're not going to tell me what's wrong, how am I supposed to pray for you? I need the gossip—I mean, the details—to properly intercede with the Lord.

But now I get it. "Please pray for my friend Ben. He's dealing with some health issues." That's it. That's all you need to say. You don't need to go into his entire medical history and how he's not taking care of himself and how his wife is frustrated and how their kids are acting out because of the stress at home.

There was this meme someone at our church shared: a picture of church people at lunch after a sermon on gossip, and everyone's just sitting there in complete silence. Not talking. Because everything we usually talk about is about other people.

That hit me hard. Like, what can we actually talk about? News? That's mostly gossip. Sports talk radio? That's definitely gossip. "Where's Aaron Rodgers going to play next season? The Steelers? The Vikings? He's feeling this way about this team." That's all just hearsay.

Even when journalists have two sources to verify a story, those sources could be getting their information from the same person. It's like a game of telephone, except the telephone is on a podcast and everyone's pretending it's news.

The worst part is when we dress up gossip as accountability or spiritual concern. "I'm going to our pastor because I need to know how to handle this situation with so-and-so."

But here's what really happened: I just told the pastor something they didn't know about someone else, and now they're in a weird position. They can't unknow what I told them, but they also can't act on it without revealing that I was the source.

It's like gossip with a theological degree.

I actually looked this up because I was curious. Turns out gossip releases dopamine and oxytocin in your brain. Dopamine is the reward chemical, and oxytocin is the bonding hormone. So when you gossip, you literally get high from it, and you feel closer to the person you're gossiping with.

Meanwhile, if you're the person being gossiped about, your body releases cortisol—the stress hormone. So gossip is basically a drug that makes the gossipers feel good and the gossipee feel terrible.

It's like a social pyramid scheme, except instead of essential oils, we're dealing essential information.

This explains why reality TV is so popular. Love Island, Big Brother, The Bachelor—they're all just professionally produced gossip. "What did JoJo say about so-and-so? I gotta watch this episode to find out."

These shows take a full day's worth of footage and edit it down to one hour, specifically choosing the most dramatic moments. You don't see the thirty minutes before the argument where everyone was getting along fine. You just see the conflict.

It's gossip with a production budget.

Since we're talking about gossip and being above reproach, I should probably stop telling people I've slept in another woman's bed.

Here's the context: Growing up, I hung out at our pastor's house a lot. Their daughter Megan had an older sister, and I was friends with the sister's boyfriend. One night, I ended up sleeping in the sister's bed because of some complicated living room situation.

The next morning, I got woken up by her boyfriend tapping on the window to give her a good morning kiss before work. I opened the window, and he was just like, "Oh, hey." Zero concern. Zero jealousy. Because everyone knew there was absolutely nothing inappropriate happening.

But I still tell people, "Yeah, I slept in her bed," and just let them draw their own conclusions. It's a great icebreaker, but probably not the best example of being above reproach.

Our pastor's wife was here a couple weeks ago and heard me tell this story. She was like, "You did what now?"

Yeah, maybe I should stop leading with that story at church potlucks.

The sermon gave some practical advice on how to stop gossip in its tracks. Here are the methods:

The Direct Approach: "Should I go talk to this person about what you just told me?" This makes people realize they're gossiping real quick.

The Redirect: "I'm not part of this. I don't need to hear this."

The Spiritual Pivot: "This sounds like something we should just pray about."

I prefer the direct approach because I don't mind making things awkward. But if you're more polite than me (which isn't hard), the redirect works pretty well.

Here's what I think is really happening. We're so focused on external sins—sports betting, drinking, entertainment choices—that we're ignoring the relational sins that are actually destroying our communities.

Gossip breaks down trust. It destroys relationships. It makes people feel like they can't be vulnerable or honest because someone's going to turn their struggles into prayer request gossip.

I've lost a good friend recently because of this exact issue. Not because of gambling or drinking or any of the things the Southern Baptist Convention is worried about. Because of gossip and broken trust.

So what's the solution? How do we shift from gossip to grace?

First, we need to be more direct with people. Most gossip starts because we're avoiding a conversation we should have and instead having conversations we shouldn't have. If someone does something that bothers you, talk to them about it. Not in the heat of the moment, but a few days later when emotions have cooled down.

Second, we need to challenge our church leaders to create environments for restoration instead of condemnation. People should feel safe to share their struggles without worrying about it becoming the subject of next week's prayer requests.

Third, we need to remember that gossip dies when it doesn't have an audience. Stop putting wood on the fire. When someone starts gossiping to you, shut it down.

Here's the funny thing about the Southern Baptist Convention targeting sports betting: they're probably missing the real addiction in their churches. The people who are most vocal about banning certain behaviors are often the ones struggling with them.

As our pastor Michael said, a friend once told him, "I like it when you preach because I always know what you're struggling with." Michael preached on gossip, so apparently, he's struggling with gossip.

Which means the Southern Baptist Convention is struggling with sports betting, pornography, same-sex marriage, and willful childlessness. That's quite a list for 10,000 people to tackle in one weekend.

The church isn't supposed to be a rumor mill. It's supposed to be a hospital. And healing starts when we speak life into people instead of whispering about them in hallways.

So while the Southern Baptist Convention is worried about my ten-dollar fantasy football league, maybe they should focus on the fact that their people can't have a conversation without it turning into gossip about someone who isn't there to defend themselves.

But hey, at least we can still gossip about this podcast to our friends. That's not gossip—that's marketing.

Let me start with a confession: I tried to become a millionaire at QuickTrip this morning. Not through some elaborate business scheme or scratch-off lottery tickets, but through the tried-and-true method of spilling scalding coffee on my crotch and suing for damages.

Turns out QuickTrip has gotten smart about their McDonald's-style hot coffee lawsuits. They've apparently just turned down the temperature so when their coffee inevitably shoots out of the spout directly into your lap, you don't actually get burned. Smart business move. Terrible for my get-rich-quick scheme.

This minor disappointment happened on my way to grab coffee because I'd run out of espresso at home. My wife and I have this auto-ship thing for coffee, but we're always pushing it back because we think we're not drinking it fast enough. Classic overestimation of our own self-control. It's like when you buy a gym membership in January and then push back your first workout until February... then March... then next January.

But here's the thing – even without coffee, even after failing at accidental lawsuit fortune, I still had to face the day. And that meant confronting a question that's been bouncing around Christian circles for decades: Do I really need to do a daily quiet time?

First, let's establish what we're talking about here. A quiet time, for the uninitiated, is that sacred Christian ritual where you're supposed to read your Bible, pray, journal, and sit in contemplative silence while God presumably downloads wisdom directly into your brain like some kind of spiritual Wi-Fi connection.

It's the Christian equivalent of kale smoothies – everyone knows they should be doing it, most people aren't, and the ones who are won't stop talking about it.

I've been doing a version of this for seven and a half years now, thanks to a men's group from church. We dissolved the group six months ago, but for seven straight years, we'd message each other every morning with a simple "done" after completing whatever Bible study we were working through. Usually five to ten-minute lessons – we're not talking about seminary-level theological deep dives here.

But here's where it gets weird: I've been doing my quiet time in the bathroom. On the toilet, specifically. I used to use an actual paper Bible, but then I realized that was probably disgusting, so now I just use my phone and a Bible app. Not sponsored, by the way, though if Life Church wants to cut me a check for the endorsement, I'm available.

This bathroom setup has worked for me because it's consistent. I wake up, I go to the bathroom, I read. It's part of my morning routine like brushing my teeth or wondering why I stayed up so late watching YouTube videos about conspiracy theories involving birds (different story for another time).

But lately, I've been wondering: Am I doing this because it's genuinely helping my spiritual life, or am I just checking a box? Is this relationship-building with God, or is it just ritual at this point?

Here's the uncomfortable truth: A lot of my quiet time motivation comes from pride. For seven years, I couldn't let the men's group down by not texting "done." Even now, months after the group dissolved, I still feel this compulsion to maintain the streak. It's like those people who refuse to break their Wordle streak even though they've stopped enjoying the game.

There's also the modeling aspect. We're told as Christians that we should be examples to others, especially to our families. Our pastor makes sure to do his quiet time in a visible place so his family can see him prioritizing God. Meanwhile, I'm in the bathroom with my phone. Not exactly the inspiring spiritual leadership moment you'd see on a church brochure.

My wife knows I do it, but my daughter doesn't. Though to be fair, explaining to a kid that Daddy has special God time in the bathroom might create more questions than answers.

So here's the big question that started this whole mental journey: Is a daily quiet time actually required? Like, biblically speaking?

I've looked, and I can't find anywhere in Scripture that says, "Thou shalt read these words every single morning, preferably while caffeinated." It's not the eleventh commandment. Moses didn't drop a third tablet that said, "Also, get a Bible app."

Jesus did set a precedent by withdrawing to quiet places to pray and talk with God. He'd leave his disciples behind – who, let's be honest, couldn't even stay awake to pray with him for an hour when he really needed them. So there's definitely biblical support for the concept of intentional time with God.

But required? Logistically speaking, no. There's no verse that says you have to do a daily quiet time or you're going to Christian jail.

Spiritually speaking? That's where it gets complicated.

Here's the thing about spiritual disciplines: they're a lot like physical exercise. Nobody's going to die if they skip the gym for a week. But skip it for months or years, and you'll definitely notice the difference in your overall health and strength.

The same principle applies spiritually. You won't immediately keel over and die if you skip your Bible reading for a few days. But spiritual death – that slow drift away from God – usually doesn't happen through one major event. It happens gradually, through small neglects and tiny compromises that add up over time.

Dave Ramsey has this illustration about being one degree off course. If you're aiming straight ahead but you're just one degree off, after ten years you'll be miles away from where you wanted to be. The same thing happens spiritually. Small inconsistencies in spiritual discipline can lead to big gaps in your relationship with God over time.

So while a daily quiet time might not be legally required by biblical law, it's probably spiritually necessary if you want to keep growing in your faith. It's like saying you don't technically need to eat vegetables every day to survive. Technically true, but good luck trying to thrive without them.

Let me level with you: I could probably ask nine out of ten of my Christian friends if they have a regular quiet time, and nine of them would say no. I'm being generous including myself as the one "yes" in that made-up statistic.

This isn't meant to shame anyone. It's just the reality. Most Christians know they should be doing this, but most Christians aren't. We're spiritually surviving rather than thriving.

And here's the thing – even if you don't have a formal "quiet time," you might still be connecting with God throughout your day. Maybe you pray while driving. Maybe you listen to Christian music. Maybe you have conversations with God while you're working alone (like I do – one of the perks of my job is that no one's usually there to hear me talking to myself/God).

But there's something to be said for intentional, focused time. Something different about starting your day by prioritizing God over everything else – including your phone, your coffee, your news feed, your anxiety about the day ahead.

I refuse to pick up my phone or turn on the TV before I do my quiet time. God gets first priority. Well, after using the bathroom, but that's simultaneous, so it doesn't count.

This isn't about legalism or earning points with God. It's about setting the tone for the day. When you start by acknowledging God, thanking him, reading his words, and listening for his voice, it changes how you see everything else that happens.

You're more likely to notice small blessings – like when someone lets you merge in traffic (thank you, God, for that random act of kindness). You're more likely to see opportunities to serve others. You're more likely to have patience when things don't go according to plan.

It's like putting on spiritual goggles that help you recognize God's presence and work throughout your day.

Here's something I learned from a friend: instead of asking "Do I have to do a quiet time?" try flipping the question. Ask yourself: "Why wouldn't I want to spend time with the one who saved me, sustains me, and is the source of all wisdom, guidance, and peace?"

When you put it that way, it's not about obligation anymore. It's about relationship.

We all love our moms, right? We say our moms gave us life. But God is the one who truly gave us life – physical, spiritual, eternal. So why wouldn't we want to treat him at least as well as we treat our moms? Most of us call or text our moms regularly. We make time for them. We prioritize them.

Shouldn't we do the same for God?

This brings us to the heart of the matter: Are you spiritually surviving or thriving?

Surviving means you're getting by. You go to church on Sundays. You pray when you're in trouble. You know the basic Bible stories. You try to be a good person.

Thriving means you're growing. You're becoming more like Jesus. You're seeing God work in your life. You're equipped to help others in their faith journey. You have peace that doesn't make sense given your circumstances.

The difference often comes down to consistency in spiritual disciplines. Not because God loves you more when you read your Bible every day, but because regular time with God changes you. It strengthens your spiritual muscles. It tunes your ear to hear his voice. It aligns your heart with his priorities.

Look, I'm not going to tell you that you have to wake up at 5 AM and spend two hours in contemplative prayer while birds sing outside your window and sunbeams stream through your perfectly organized home office.

Maybe your quiet time is five minutes. Maybe it's while you're drinking your coffee. Maybe it's during your lunch break. Maybe it's listening to the Bible on audio while you commute.

The key is consistency and intentionality. Anytime with God is better than no time with God.

But here's what I've learned after seven and a half years of bathroom Bible study: those few minutes in the morning set the tone for everything else that follows. Even on days when I wake up grumpy (which shouldn't happen since I'm supposedly a morning person), even when I don't feel like doing it, I always feel better after.

It's never a waste of time. It's not that bad. Actually, it's usually pretty good.

So do Christians need to do a daily quiet time? Legally? No. There's no biblical commandment requiring it.

Practically? If you want to grow spiritually, if you want to thrive rather than just survive, if you want to recognize God's presence and work in your daily life – then yes, some form of regular, intentional time with God is essential.

It doesn't have to look like anyone else's quiet time. It doesn't have to be perfect. It doesn't have to be Instagram-worthy.

It just has to be yours.

And who knows? Maybe after a few months of consistency, instead of asking "Do I have to do this?" you'll start asking "Why wouldn't I want to do this?"

Just maybe don't do it in the bathroom. Or do – I'm not judging. God meets us where we are, even if where we are happens to be on the toilet at 6 AM with a Bible app and questionable life choices.

The important thing is showing up. Even without the coffee. Even after failing to become a QuickTrip millionaire. Even when you don't feel like it.

Because sometimes the most important conversations happen in the most ordinary moments, with the most ordinary people, in the most ordinary places.

Even bathrooms.

Especially bathrooms, apparently.

You know it's summer when your youth pastor starts doing mental math every Wednesday night, trying to figure out why attendance dropped from 75 kids to, like, 12. And somehow those 12 kids are all the ones whose parents make them come no matter what—the homeschooled kids who wear polo shirts tucked into khakis and know every verse to "How Great Thou Art" by heart.

Welcome to what churches across America like to call "the summer slump," which sounds way more official than "everyone decided the lake is more important than Jesus for three months straight."

Let me paint you a picture. School lets out, and suddenly church attendance starts looking like a game of musical chairs where half the chairs just walked away. We're talking about what the Bible Bros Podcast guys call "the VVV's of summer"—Vacations, VBS, and Vanishing volunteers. Though honestly, that third V could just as easily stand for "Very convenient excuses."

It's fascinating how creative people get with their summer church avoidance. You've got your classic "we're traveling" folks, which is legitimate until you realize their "travel" is to the lake that's literally 10 minutes from the church. Then there are the parents who suddenly discover their kid is the next Derek Jeter and has to play in every single baseball tournament within a three-state radius. Funny how little Timmy wasn't quite so athletically gifted during the winter worship services.

But here's what really gets me—and this is straight from the mouths of youth pastors who've seen it all—sometimes people will say they can't make it to church because of their kid's tournament, but they'll "watch online instead." Then Sunday comes around, and you can literally see on Facebook that they're not online either. The church streaming platform has a participant list, Karen. We can see you're not there. You're probably at Cracker Barrel talking about how the sermon "just hits different" when you're eating biscuits and gravy.

Now, not every reason for missing church is bogus. Take mission trips, for instance. Some churches do these incredible, life-changing experiences where you're actually ministering 24/7. The guys on the podcast talked about trips to Peru where they were doing street theater, going door to door, buying out entire bakeries to give away free bread while telling people about the Bread of Life. That's the real deal right there.

But then you've got the other kind of mission trips—the ones that sound more like summer camp with a sprinkle of Jesus dust on top. "Yeah, we're gonna do VBS for two hours, then we're going zip-lining. Tomorrow we'll have a Bible study, then it's go-kart time!"

Look, I'm not saying fun is bad. But somewhere along the way, "mission trip" started meaning "vacation with a tax write-off." When your mission trip itinerary looks like a Disney World FastPass schedule, maybe we need to have a conversation about priorities.

The funniest part is how these things have evolved over the years. Used to be, mission trips meant sleeping on the floor in buildings with dead rats, outdoor showers with those solar water bags hanging in the sun, and PVC pipe plumbing that may or may not actually work. Now it's like, "We're staying at the Hampton Inn because the kids need their rest for tomorrow's ministry... and jet skiing."

Can we talk about lake people for a second? Because if your church is anywhere near a body of water larger than a puddle, you know exactly what I'm talking about. These are the folks who treat their boat like it's their church pew from June through August.

One of the podcast hosts actually became a Christian because of lake people, in the most backward way possible. His friend invited him to the lake, he said he had to go to church first, and the guy was like, "Well, that sounds lame, but I really want to go to the lake, so... fine." Boom. Life changed. Sometimes God works through our selfishness, apparently.

But here's the thing about lake people—they're not necessarily bad people. They're just people who've discovered that sitting on a pontoon boat with a cooler full of sandwiches feels a lot more peaceful than sitting in a sanctuary with a screaming toddler three rows up. Can you blame them? Have you ever tried to have a spiritual moment while someone's kid is doing interpretive dance to "Amazing Grace"?

And then we have the parents who've been convinced that their 8-year-old's weekend baseball tournament is somehow more important than, you know, worshiping the Creator of the universe. These tournaments are always exactly two hours away—never one hour, never three hours. Always two hours. Just far enough that you "can't possibly make it back for church" but close enough that you definitely could if you actually wanted to.

The best part is when these same parents complain that their kids aren't getting enough spiritual foundation at home. Well, maybe if you spent Sunday mornings in church instead of screaming at a teenager in stripes about a questionable call at second base, little Johnny might learn something about grace and forgiveness.

But sports schedules are sacred in America. More sacred than actual sacred things, apparently. We'll move heaven and earth to make sure kids don't miss practice, but missing church? That's just part of growing up, right?

While we're on the subject of summer church struggles, let's talk about volunteers. Or rather, the complete lack thereof.

Picture this: You're the worship leader, and you've got your summer schedule all planned out. Then June hits, and suddenly everyone remembers they have somewhere else to be. Your usual guitar player? Family reunion. Your drummer? Mission trip (the good kind). Your backup singer? Lake house. Your other backup singer? Different lake house.

So now you're standing there on Sunday morning with what essentially amounts to a church karaoke setup, desperately texting people at 8:47 AM: "Can you play tambourine? Please? I'll buy you lunch."

The really frustrating part is when people don't even try to find replacements. They just text you the night before like, "Hey, can't make it tomorrow. Family thing." Oh, a family thing? On the same weekend you've known about for six months? Revolutionary.

And God bless the people who are always there, because they end up getting scheduled for everything. There's always that one guy who shows up every single Sunday no matter what, so he becomes the default backup for everyone else's vacation plans. "Oh, Jeff'll do it. Jeff doesn't have a life." Jeff's probably at home right now, looking at his calendar and realizing he's scheduled for the next eight Sundays straight because everyone else discovered the lake.

Here's where things get really interesting, though. One of the podcast hosts went on this beautiful rant about how everything Christians do together has to be "extra Christian." Like, why can't you just have a pool party without someone breaking out their worn copy of "Jesus Calling" for an impromptu devotional?

Picture it: You're at someone's house, everyone's having a good time, the hot dogs are perfectly grilled, and then suddenly: "Okay everyone, gather around! Before we jump in the pool, let's have a quick devotion. I've been reading through Genesis, and I just want to share something that really spoke to my heart..."

Meanwhile, the kids are standing there in their swimsuits, chlorine is evaporating, and everyone's pretending to pay attention while mentally calculating how long this is going to take.

Why does every single Christian gathering need a spiritual component? Can't we just... hang out? Can't we just be friends who happen to go to the same church without turning every moment into a teaching opportunity?

Band practice is apparently the worst. You're supposed to start at six, but people roll in at 6:15 because Johnny's still eating his dinner (at church, apparently). Then instead of just running through the songs, someone's got to ask for prayer requests. Then there's a devotional. Then finally, maybe, you can actually practice the songs you're supposed to play on Sunday.

It's like we've forgotten that sometimes fellowship is just... fellowship. Not every conversation needs to end with "let's pray about it." Sometimes you can just eat a burger and complain about your job like normal humans.

So what's the answer to the summer church exodus? Well, the obvious one is just... don't leave. Make a decision not to miss. Revolutionary concept, I know.

But here's the thing—churches are air-conditioned. If it's hot outside, it's not hot inside (unless the AC's broken, in which case, all bets are off). If you're staying home because it's too hot, save that excuse for winter when you'll stay home because it's too cold.

The real issue isn't weather or sports or even lakes. The real issue is priorities. We've somehow convinced ourselves that worship is optional when life gets busy or fun. But maybe—and hear me out here—maybe the times when we least feel like going to church are exactly the times we need it most.

One pastor puts it this way: don't put God first, put God only. Everything else should revolve around that decision, not the other way around.

Look, nobody's saying you can't go on vacation or that your kids shouldn't play sports or that boats are instruments of Satan. The point is balance, and maybe a little honesty about our motivations.

If you're going to miss church, at least own it. Don't pretend you're going to watch online when everyone knows you're going to be too busy perfecting your cornhole technique at the family reunion. And if you're a volunteer who needs to be gone, maybe—crazy idea—help find your own replacement instead of leaving your leader scrambling at the last minute.

Better yet, if you know you're going to be out of town, find a church where you're going and actually go. Novel concept: worship doesn't have to happen in your home church building to count.

And for the love of all that's holy, can we please have one pool party this summer that doesn't require a group devotion? Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is just be present with people without making it weird.

Summer church attendance will probably always be a thing. People will always find reasons to skip out when the weather's nice and vacation season hits. But maybe if we were a little more honest about it—and a little more intentional about staying connected to our faith communities even when life gets fun—we wouldn't see such a dramatic exodus every June.

Besides, if you think about it, some of the best spiritual moments happen outside traditional church settings anyway. That mission trip to Mexico where you slept on the floor and dealt with outdoor showers? Probably more transformative than three months of comfortable Sunday services.

Just maybe don't try to convince everyone that your lake weekend is basically the same thing as a mission trip. We can see right through that one.

And please, for everyone's sake, stop trying to turn every casual Christian gathering into a small group meeting. Sometimes we just want to eat hot dogs and go swimming without discussing the theological implications of pool maintenance.

Trust me, the kingdom of God will survive your pool party just fine without a devotional.

Welcome to the Bible Belt Bros Podcast, where theology meets swipe culture — kind of. In this episode, Andrew and Dusty channel their inner youth group energy and decide to play a little game: swiping left or right on Bible characters. Yes, it’s as ridiculous and wonderful as it sounds.

If you're new here, this isn't your grandma’s Bible study. This is a Christian Comedy Podcast made for the guys in the back row of church — the ones who definitely don’t have a WWJD bracelet but still know what Jesus would do... because they probably made a meme about it.

If you're looking for a Christian Podcast for Men that's not all protein powder, prayer circles, and yelling — you've found it.

The episode kicks off with some classic confusion. Andrew opens the podcast solo, claiming to be alone — until Dusty shows up like a sitcom character entering stage left. Immediately, we’re off-script, talking about chairs and dogs, and whether Andrew needs either of them. Spoiler: he does not.

But eventually, they land the plane: today’s episode is about swiping left or right on Bible characters. Not romantically. This isn’t Christian Mingle. It’s more like: “Would we be friends with this guy?”

The rules are simple:

Swipe right = You’d let them in your life. Friends. Bros. Small group material.

Swipe left = Hard pass. Let them go be someone else’s burden.

As Dusty clarifies: “Not to sleep with them… we’re both married.”

This is not about biblical compatibility. It’s about vibes. And maybe a little theology. But mostly vibes.

Andrew, the self-proclaimed introvert, threatens to swipe left on everyone and delete the app entirely. Relatable.

Adam. The OG human. Made from dust. Given the Garden of Eden and told not to eat one fruit — and, well, here we are.

His resume:

Made in God’s image.

Given dominion over the Earth.

Took a nap and woke up with a wife.

Walked closely with God.

Sounds like a solid dude… except for the whole "plunge humanity into sin" thing. But hey, nobody’s perfect.

Andrew reads the description like a dating profile: “Innocent. Works with his hands. Loves animals. Bit of a fruit issue.”

Dusty, channeling every youth pastor ever, considers it: "If you’re looking for a godly man to be your best friend..."

So... swipe right? Swipe left? They never fully commit. Which, honestly, is very on brand for this show.

What makes this episode peak Christian Comedy Podcast isn’t the theological depth — though Adam’s backstory does get some airtime — it’s the tone.

Dusty’s goofy. Andrew’s dry. Together, they somehow make ancient Bible figures feel like candidates on a reality show.

And they do it without ever actually getting to another character. That’s right. One episode. One guy. Adam. And still 30 minutes of content.

This is a Christian Podcast for Men who can’t commit to a Bible reading plan but can commit to laughing about it. And honestly? That’s a ministry.

While the episode starts with the promise of a whole list of Bible characters, it very quickly becomes a character study of Adam, some dog commentary, and a lot of side trails. And that’s what makes this podcast work.

It’s not polished. It’s not prepped. It’s two dudes riffing about scripture like they’re on a coffee break at a men’s retreat.

If you’re the type of guy who’s tried to lead a Bible study with memes, or if your theology degree came from YouTube comments — the Bible Belt Bros are your people.

This episode isn’t deep. But it’s honest. It’s funny. And it’s exactly what the Christian Comedy Podcast world needed — a swipe mechanic for Bible characters.

So if you’re tired of serious sermons and just want a laugh, maybe even at the expense of Adam — grab your metaphorical phone and swipe right on this show.

What do zookeeping, spiritual gift tests, and wildly questionable discernment scores have in common? This episode of the Bible Belt Bros Podcast, that’s what. Join Andrew and Dusty as they tackle deep theological mysteries like “Did Jesus stand on soapboxes?” and “Can ‘Helps’ actually be a spiritual gift, or is that just Christian for ‘people pleaser’?” It’s equal parts hilarious roast and accidental insight—plus, Andrew might be changing careers to feed giraffes. 

Andrew and Dusty begin with a signature tangent: Andrew has a new life plan. He’s applying to be a zookeeper. This revelation comes out of nowhere and isn't revisited with any serious theological backing—Andrew just thinks it’d be fun to work with animals and carry a stick around. It’s an entertaining cold open that sets the tone for the rest of the episode: part hilarious detour, part unfiltered theological musing.

From there, Andrew jumps into his soapbox of the week, questioning whether Jesus ever got on a soapbox himself. This thought led him down a short-lived research rabbit hole where he promptly forgot all the facts he found. The core of the soapbox was a reflection on how little of Jesus’ words are actually recorded in the Bible. Andrew estimated that the average person speaks around 16,000 words a day, and with only 37,000 to 57,000 of Jesus’ words recorded, we may only have about two and a half days’ worth of His teachings. This realization leads the hosts to muse about the massive gaps between what Jesus did and what was documented.

That theological pondering quickly transitions into the main topic: spiritual gifts and personality tests. Andrew recently took an online spiritual gifts test and shares the results. His highest-ranking gift is "Helps," while scoring zero in "Discernment." Dusty immediately challenges both the legitimacy of the test and the results. His response to "Helps" being a spiritual gift is sarcastic and dismissive: "That’s not a gift, that’s being a good person."

The conversation turns into a comedic breakdown of the spiritual gifts Andrew allegedly has. Dusty goes down the list from the test and calls out each one, essentially rejecting them as false based on his own observations. Andrew’s attempts to defend his gifts are countered by Dusty’s suspicion that Andrew just clicked random answers to finish the test quickly. The comedic tension lies in Dusty’s confidence that he knows Andrew better than the test does—and his high score in "Discernment" is his excuse for not believing a word of it.

Andrew tries to explain that the value of these tests lies in helping people understand where they fit within the church. He reflects on the fivefold ministry—apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers—and how different gifts align with different roles. He acknowledges that he’s probably more of a behind-the-scenes support person, not someone who should be leading from the front.

Despite the jokes, there’s a sincere moment where Andrew explains how understanding his gifts gave him confidence in knowing he doesn’t have to perform upfront to serve. This leads to a brief mention of how churches often misuse or overemphasize certain gifts while undervaluing others like Helps.

Dusty, however, maintains a skeptical tone throughout, poking fun at the idea that clicking through multiple-choice questions can reveal deep spiritual truths. He particularly critiques the "Discernment" category, arguing that someone without it could still use a "gift of Helps" in all the wrong ways—"like helping a guy rob a bank."

The episode never fully lands on whether spiritual gift tests are helpful, accurate, or biblical, but the guys do land on one thing: they’re entertaining. Andrew’s earnest attempt to understand his calling and Dusty’s relentless commentary make for a dynamic mix of introspection and comic relief.

As the episode wraps, the spiritual gift discussion takes a backseat to more sarcasm and lighthearted back-and-forth. Andrew continues defending the test. Dusty continues roasting him. And in the end, listeners are left with a few laughs, some lingering questions about their own gifts, and the image of Andrew at the Tulsa Zoo holding a stick.

This episode doesn’t offer clear answers about spiritual gifts or the effectiveness of online tests. But it does offer an honest look at two friends navigating faith with humor, skepticism, and the occasional zookeeper application.

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