Texts: Colossians 3:17; Philippians 1:9–11; Revelation 3:14–22

I. The Mystery of “Something Special”

What separates great businesses from average businesses?

What makes Buc-ee’s better than all the other gas stations? It’s not just the bathrooms (though they’re immaculate). It’s not just the snacks (though the selection is staggering). It’s something else. It’s the culture. Every employee seems to care. Every detail seems considered. Every visit feels consistent. You walk in and you know exactly what you’re getting, and what you’re getting is excellent.

What makes Chick-fil-A better than other fast food restaurants? The chicken is good, yes. But so is the chicken at a dozen other places. What sets them apart is the cheerful “my pleasure” when you say thank you. It’s the employee who runs out in the rain to bring your food to your car. It’s the sense that everyone who works there actually wants to be there and actually cares whether you have a good experience.

Why do some congregations just have “something special” and others just don’t? You know it when you feel it. You walk into one church and immediately sense warmth, purpose, life. People seem genuinely glad to be there. The facility is well cared for. The worship feels authentic. The preaching connects. You leave energized. 

You walk into another church and something feels off. Nothing is overtly wrong. The sermon is doctrinally sound. The songs are theologically accurate. The building is functional. But something is missing. There’s no spark, no passion, no sense that anything eternal is happening here. It feels like going through motions, checking boxes, maintaining machinery.

What’s the difference? The answer is culture. Every organization has a culture. Culture is the collective soul of a community, the shared habits and values that define “how we do things here.” Culture is what happens when no one is looking. It’s what people assume without being told. It’s the unspoken expectations that shape behavior. And here’s the sobering truth: culture reveals theology more accurately than confessions do. To the church at Laodicea, Christ  spoke words that ought to terrify every comfortable congregation: “I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth” (Rev 3:15–16).

Notice the divine preference. Better to be cold (openly hostile, frankly rebellious, honestly indifferent) than lukewarm (religiously respectable, comfortably Christian, adequately orthodox). Why? Because coldness can be heated, but lukewarmness is precisely the temperature at which things rot. Lukewarm water describes the church that has lost its purpose, fit neither to refresh nor to cleanse. It simply exists, taking up space, mocking its own potential. The church can die most thoroughly when it appears most alive. When we substitute activity for adoration, programs for passion, institutional preservation for gospel proclamation, we create something remarkable and horrifying. We create a corpse that still moves.

Thesis: Congregational culture is not an accident of circumstance but an artifact of worship. What we love shapes what we do, and what we do reveals what we love. The movement from apathy to excellence is therefore not a matter of better management but of recovered vision. We must see God again, and see him be ruined for anything less than wholehearted devotion. Like Buc-ee’s or Chick-fil-A, churches with “something special” have cultivated a culture where excellence flows not from policy but from passion, not from requirement but from worship.

II. On Culture and the Incarnation of Belief

Every human community has a culture, which is to say, every human community has a soul. Culture is the visible form of invisible conviction, the incarnation of what people truly believe when the sermons are over and the hymn books are closed. Walk into Buc-ee’s or Chick-fil-A and you experience culture. The teenager at the register doesn’t just take your order. She makes eye contact, smiles genuinely, thanks you sincerely. She’s not acting. This is who she’s been trained to be. The culture has shaped her.

This is why Paul warns the Corinthians that “bad company ruins good morals” (φθείρουσιν ἤθη χρηστὰ ὁμιλίαι κακαί, 1 Cor 15:33). The present tense of φθείρουσιν (ruins) indicates continuous action. Bad company doesn’t ruin good morals in a moment. It corrupts them slowly, imperceptibly, like rust eating iron from within. A church’s culture, then, is simply the accumulated effect of what it has consistently revered over time. 

This is why diagnosing congregational culture is not merely a matter of sociology but of spiritual discernment. We are asking, “What does this community worship?” Not what does it claim to worship, but what does it actually, functionally, habitually worship? Buc-ee’s and Chick-fil-A worship customer experience. Every decision flows from that. Every policy reflects that. What does your church worship? I mean what does your daily practice reveal? If a business can build a culture of excellence around gasoline and chicken sandwiches, surely the church can build a culture of excellence around the gospel of Jesus Christ.

III. The Purposeful Pursuit of Excellence

The world defines excellence as superiority over others. Scripture defines it as wholehearted devotion to God. It is the difference between Babel and Bethel, between building a tower to make a name for ourselves and building an altar to magnify the name of Another. Paul writes, “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything (πάντα) in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col 3:17). The Greek πάντα is comprehensive. Everything. Not just preaching and praying, but sweeping and singing, budgeting and building. The sacred is not a category separate from the secular. The sacred is the secular done in Jesus’ name.

Consider Buc-ee’s again. They don’t just clean the bathrooms. They obsess over the bathrooms. Why? Because they’ve decided that every detail matters. Every customer interaction matters. Every square foot of the store matters. Excellence is not reserved for the important things. Excellence is applied to everything.

Now imagine a church with that same commitment. Not to bathrooms (though that wouldn’t hurt), but to the glory of God. What if we approached every detail of congregational life with the same obsessive care that Buc-ee’s applies to rest stops? Excellence is not a matter of scale (doing great things) but of motive (doing all things greatly, which is to say, doing all things for God’s glory).

Christ embodied this standard. He did nothing from his own initiative (ἀπ᾿ ἐμαυτοῦ, John 5:19) but only what he saw the Father doing. His life was perfect obedience rendered in perfect love. And his obedience led to a cross. This is the shape of excellence in a fallen world: it costs everything and appears, to the world’s eyes, like failure. Paul caught this vision. He writes, “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (κατὰ σκοπὸν διώκω, Phil 3:14). The verb διώκω means to pursue with intensity, to chase as a hunter chases prey. This is no casual stroll toward improvement. This is a sprint toward holiness.

Now contrast this with Laodicea. They were neither hot nor cold, neither passionate nor rebellious. They had achieved something remarkable: a Christianity that required nothing, cost nothing, changed nothing. They were rich, wealthy, in need of nothing (Rev 3:17). And Christ called them “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.” The tragedy of Laodicea is not that they rejected Christ but that they accepted him on their own terms. They had domesticated the gospel, tamed the Lion of Judah, turned the Crucified King into a cosmic life coach. And Christ said he would vomit them out of his mouth.

What would change in our congregation if we believed that sweeping the floor for God’s glory mattered as much as preaching the sermon?

IV. Diagnosing the Disease: Symptoms of a Dying Church

Let us be physicians for a moment and diagnose our patient. What are the symptoms of a congregation dying of apathy? Go back to the business analogy. You know when you walk into a dying business. The floors are dirty. The employees are sullen. The shelves are understocked. The bathroom is a disaster. No one cares anymore. The business is running on autopilot, coasting toward closure.

Now walk into a dying church.

First, worship becomes routine. The songs are sung not because they express the inexpressible but because they are scheduled. Prayer feels like punctuation rather than desperation. Sermons are endured rather than expected. The machinery runs, but the soul has fled. Form without power is a body without breath. It looks alive from a distance, but draw close and you will smell death.

Second, participation becomes minimal. Members ask not “what can I do for the congregation” but “what can the congregation do for me?” The culture shifts from eager volunteerism to grudging obligation. Excellence becomes someone else’s job. Mediocrity becomes acceptable. And eventually, mediocrity becomes invisible because we have trained ourselves not to see it. Think about Chick-fil-A. Every employee seems engaged. No one is just punching a clock. They’re part of something. Now think about your church. How many people are just showing up? How many are genuinely engaged?

Third, facilities are neglected. This seems trivial, but not to  Buc-ee’s. The building is not separate from the brand. The building IS the brand. A dirty Buc-ee’s would be a contradiction in terms. The facility communicates the values. When we neglect the building, the grounds, the tools of ministry, we are not merely being lazy. We are preaching a sermon. We are saying, “These gifts from God do not matter enough to care for well.” And that sermon is heard far more clearly than the one delivered from the pulpit. Decency is not luxury. Decency is the baseline respect we owe to God’s gifts. A dirty, disordered, shabby facility does not commend the gospel. It undermines it. We are saying, in effect, “We serve a King who deserves our leftovers.”

Fourth, expectations for leaders decline. When Paul lists qualifications for elders (1 Tim 3:1–7; Titus 1:5–9), he emphasizes character before competence. The Greek ἀνεπίλημπτος (above reproach) means unassailable, beyond legitimate accusation. Leaders must be exemplary not because they are special but because they are visible. Their lives are the curriculum. But in a church of apathy, we lower the bar. We make excuses. We tolerate in leaders what we would condemn in members. And eventually, the congregation learns that holiness is optional, faithfulness is negotiable, and excellence is unrealistic. Leaders exist not for their own glory but for the body’s flourishing. When leaders serve themselves, the body starves.

Think about this: Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays, which costs them millions. Why? Because the founder believed some things matter more than profit. That’s leadership setting culture. What are church leaders willing to sacrifice to set a culture of devotion?  What excuses have we made for mediocrity that we would never allow in our own houses or make if we truly believed God was watching?

V. The Ministry of Beautiful Things

There is a heresy abroad in the church, unspoken but deadly. It whispers that spiritual things matter and physical things don’t. That the soul is sacred and the body is secular. That preaching matters but plumbing doesn’t. This is not Christianity. This is Gnosticism dressed in Gospel clothes.

Scripture knows no such division. When God commanded the construction of the tabernacle, he filled Bezalel with his Spirit “to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze” (Exod 31:3–4). The Spirit of God empowered a man to create beautiful things for worship. Beauty mattered to God. Craftsmanship mattered. Excellence in physical construction was spiritual work. The temple was not merely functional. It was glorious. Every detail testified to the holiness of the God who dwelt there. The priests’ garments were “for glory and for beauty” (Exod 28:2). God cares about aesthetics.

Buc-ee’s gets this. The store layout is intentional. The lighting is bright. The colors are cheerful. The products are displayed attractively. They understand that environment shapes experience. But between gaudy opulence and shabby neglect lies a wide field called faithful stewardship. And in that field, we plant a garden that testifies to the God who makes all things beautiful in their time (Eccl 3:11).

When we care for the church building, we are not maintaining real estate. We are stewarding a gift. When we clean the sanctuary, we are not doing janitorial work. We are preparing a space where God’s people will meet with God. When we repair the roof or paint the walls or fix the plumbing, we are saying, “This matters. This place matters. These people matter. And the God we gather to worship matters most of all.”

What we see on Sunday morning reflects what we believe about God. A beautiful, well-kept, hospitable facility says, “We love this place because we love this people because we love this God.” A neglected, shabby, unwelcoming facility says something else entirely. The church building is both utterly important and completely unimportant. It is unimportant because God does not dwell in temples made with hands (Acts 17:24). But it is utterly important because we do, and how we treat this space reveals what we think of the God we claim to serve.

Spurgeon put it plainly: “If you cannot glorify God in the kitchen, you will never glorify him in the cathedral.”[^11] Excellence begins with small things done well for great reasons. Walk through your church building this week. Look at it as a first-time visitor would. What does it communicate? Does it say, “We treasure what happens here”? Or does it say, “We’re just maintaining what we inherited”?
What does the physical condition of our church communicate to visitors about the God we worship?

VI. The Evangelism of Irresistible Joy

There is a kind of evangelism that repels more than it attracts. It is dutiful, mechanical, guilt-driven. It views the lost as projects rather than people, evangelism as a program rather than a posture. And it produces converts who look about as happy as prisoners of war. This is not the evangelism of the New Testament. 

Luke describes the early church this way: They were “praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved” (Acts 2:47). Notice the order. They praised God. They had favor with people. God added to their number. Evangelism flowed from worship. Their life together was so compelling, so full of joy and love, that people were drawn to Christ through them. They didn’t need to manufacture evangelistic events because their entire existence was evangelistic. They were living proof that the gospel changes everything.

Jesus said, “You are the light of the world” (ἐστε τὸ φῶς τοῦ κόσμου, Matt 5:14). The present tense verb ἐστε indicates continuous reality. You ARE light. Not you should try to be light, or you will become light, but you ARE light now, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. Being light is not an activity. It is an identity. But here is the terrifying corollary: if we are not shining, we have ceased being what we are. We have become salt that has lost its saltiness, fit only to be thrown out and trampled (Matt 5:13). Paul prays that the Philippians’ love would “abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment” (Phil 1:9). Love without knowledge becomes sentimentality. Knowledge without love becomes brutality. But love with knowledge produces a witness that is both true and winsome.

Excellence in evangelism is not complicated. It requires three things: clarity of message, consistency of messaging, and integrity of life. We must know the gospel well enough to explain it clearly. We must live the gospel visibly enough that our lives verify our words. And we must love people genuinely enough that they believe we care about them and not merely about adding another notch to our evangelistic belt.
If evangelism is the natural overflow of a life saturated in God’s glory, what does the scarcity of our evangelism reveal about the depth of our devotion?

VII. The Weight of Leadership: Shepherds Who Smell Like Sheep

The ministry  is not a profession. It is a calling so weighty that Paul asks, “Who is sufficient for these things?” (2 Cor 2:16). The answer, of course, is no one. And yet God calls men anyway and makes them sufficient by his grace. In any organization, culture flows from the top. The leader sets the tone. At Chick-fil-A, Truett Cathy’s values shaped everything. At Buc-ee’s, Arch Aplin’s obsession with cleanliness became company-wide obsession. Leaders don’t just manage. They model.

Paul lists qualifications for elders in 1 Timothy 3:1–7 and Titus 1:5–9. Read those lists carefully. Most of the qualifications are about character, not competence. Above reproach. The husband of one wife. Sober-minded. Self-controlled. Respectable. Hospitable. Not a drunkard. Not violent but gentle. Not quarrelsome. Not a lover of money. Managing his household well. Not a recent convert. Well thought of by outsiders. Only one qualification relates to skill: “able to teach” (1 Tim 3:2). Everything else is about being a certain kind of person. Why? Because leaders don’t merely instruct. They model. Their lives are the curriculum.

The Greek word ἀνεπίλημπτος (above reproach) is striking. It doesn’t mean sinless (only Christ was sinless). It means unassailable. When accusations come (and they will come), the leader’s life must provide no legitimate foothold for criticism. His reputation must be so consistent, his character so established, that false accusations appear false. This is not hypocrisy. This is integrity. Hypocrisy is pretending to be what you’re not. Integrity is actually becoming what you claim to be. Leaders must pursue holiness not because they are special but because they are visible.

Paul told the Ephesian elders, “I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27). The whole counsel. Not just the popular parts, not just the comfortable parts, but all of it. This is costly. Speaking truth loses friends, creates enemies, and guarantees suffering. But silence is more costly still because it condemns the flock to malnutrition.

Leadership excellence is not charisma or cleverness. It is steadfast prayer, transparent character, and faithful labor. It is doing the hard work of study so the sermon feeds souls. It is making the difficult visits when someone is suffering. It is confronting sin lovingly and bearing burdens willingly. It is the accumulated faithfulness of a thousand small obediences that no one sees but God. Think about it this way: if a leader  is sloppy in his devotional life, the congregation will be sloppy in theirs. If the elders gossip, the members will gossip. If the leaders excuse their own sin, the body will excuse sin. Culture flows from leadership.
What would it look like for leaders to model both excellence and humility so that the culture of the church grows healthier?

VIII. The Path from Death to Life: Steps Toward Recovery

How does a dying church revive? Not through better programming or cleverer marketing. Only through a recovery of God’s glory that transforms everything else. Buc-ee’s didn’t become excellent by copying other gas stations. They became excellent by deciding what they wanted to be and then obsessively pursuing that vision. Chick-fil-A didn’t become beloved by following fast food trends. They became beloved by committing to core values and never wavering.

Churches become excellent the same way: vision, commitment, consistency.

First: Renew Vision of God’s Glory

Isaiah saw the Lord “sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up” (Isa 6:1). The seraphim cried, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!” (Isa 6:3). And Isaiah, this prophet who had been speaking for God, suddenly saw himself clearly: “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips” (Isa 6:5). Vision of God’s holiness produces both confession and commission. First, we see ourselves as we truly are (sinful, unclean, unworthy). Then, we receive grace (the live coal that cleanses). Finally, we respond to the call (“Here I am! Send me,” Isa 6:8). Revival begins with seeing God. Not thinking about God, not studying God, but seeing God in his terrifying holiness and irresistible beauty. And that vision ruins us for apathy. We cannot see the King in his glory and then go back to lukewarm religion. It is impossible.

Second: Recenter on the Gospel

Paul writes, “The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us (παιδεύουσα) to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age” (Titus 2:11–12). Notice that verb: παιδεύουσα (training). Grace doesn’t merely forgive. It trains. It disciplines. It shapes us into what we could not become on our own. This is not the sentimental grace of cheap gospel preaching (“Jesus loves you; now do whatever you want”). This is the robust grace of Scripture that saves us from sin, not just from sin’s consequences. The gospel is not the diving board off which we jump into the Christian life. It is the pool in which we swim. We never move beyond the gospel. We move deeper into it. And the deeper we go, the more it transforms us.

Third: Reform Congregational Rhythms

Paul describes Christ giving gifts to the church “to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ” (Eph 4:12). Every member has a role. No one is passive. No one is merely a consumer. This requires intentional pathways. How does someone move from visitor to member? From member to minister? From minister to multiplier? If we have no clear answers, we should not be surprised when people remain stuck. Excellence is not accidental. It is cultivated through rhythm, routine, and repetition. Chick-fil-A trains every employee in their culture. Buc-ee’s has standards for everything. What habits are we building into our congregational life? What practices are we celebrating? What milestones are we marking?

Fourth: Encourage Stewardship and Evangelism

Peter writes, “As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace” (1 Pet 4:10). God’s grace is varied (ποικίλης), diverse, multifaceted. And we are stewards of it, managers entrusted with its distribution. This means celebrating faithfulness wherever we see it. The usher who arrives early to prepare. The teacher who studies diligently. The song leader who practices privately so the congregation can worship publicly. The janitor who cleans unseen. The counselor who listens patiently. The evangelist who speaks boldly. If we only celebrate the visible, we will create a culture of performance. But if we celebrate the faithful, we will create a culture of devotion.

Fifth: Pray for Renewal

“Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain” (Ps 127:1). This is the check against all our strategies and techniques. Without God’s blessing, our best efforts produce only exhaustion. Prayer reminds us of our dependence. It keeps excellence from becoming self-righteous striving. It transforms our work from human achievement to divine collaboration. We work as if everything depends on us and pray as if everything depends on God because both are true.
What specific practices could we begin this year to nurture a culture of excellence in worship, stewardship, and evangelism?

IX. The Joyful Burden: A Culture Worthy of the Cross

What is the outcome of a culture shaped by God’s glory? Three things: light, unity, and glory.

Light: Paul exhorts believers to “shine as lights in the world” (Phil 2:15). The verb φαίνεσθε (shine) is present imperative, a command for continuous action. Keep shining. Don’t stop. Shine when it’s easy and shine when it’s costly. Shine until the world cannot help but notice. A culture of excellence magnifies the worth of Christ. When a church is marked by joy, generosity, holiness, and love, the watching world asks, “What makes them different?” And we get to answer, “Jesus.”

People drive miles out of their way to go to Buc-ee’s. People choose Chick-fil-A even when there are closer options. Why? Because the experience is worth it. What if churches were like that? What if people chose to attend not out of obligation but because the experience of worshiping with this particular body of believers was so rich, so life-giving, so spiritually nourishing that they wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else?

Unity: Paul describes the church as a body “joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly” (Eph 4:16). Every part. No spectators. No passengers. Everyone contributes. Everyone matters. Excellence strengthens unity because it gives us a shared vision larger than ourselves. We are not building our own kingdoms. We are building Christ’s kingdom. And that work requires all of us, working together, each doing our part well.

Glory: Jesus said, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matt 5:16). The goal is not our glory. The goal is God’s glory revealed through us. True excellence directs every act toward God’s glory. Sermon preparation is for God’s glory. Sweeping the floor is for God’s glory. Counseling the troubled is for God’s glory. Balancing the budget is for God’s glory. Nothing is too small to be done for him. Nothing is too large to be done without him.

X. Conclusion: The Choice Before Us

A congregation’s culture is its lived theology. Every conversation, decision, and detail of care testifies to what the church believes about God. 

We began by asking what separates great businesses from average businesses. The answer is culture. Vision. Standards. Consistency. Commitment. If secular businesses can build cultures of excellence around gasoline and chicken sandwiches, surely the church can build a culture of excellence around the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Some churches have “something special.” You know it when you feel it. That something is not accidental. It is cultivated. It is the fruit of leaders who have seen God’s glory and refused to settle for anything less. It is the result of members who have caught that vision and made it their own. It is the accumulated effect of a thousand small decisions to do things well, to care about details, to treat every task as sacred, to pursue excellence not because it impresses people but because it honors God.

The question is not whether we will have a culture. We already do. The question is whether our culture will be worthy of the one who purchased us with his blood, who calls us his bride, who promises to return for us, and who expects to find us faithful when he comes. Think about what Buc-ee’s and Chick-fil-A have accomplished with relatively mundane products. They’ve built empires on excellence. 

We have the gospel. We have the story of God becoming man, dying for sinners, rising from the dead, and offering eternal life to all who believe. We have the most compelling message in human history. We have the Spirit of the living God dwelling within us. We have the promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against the church. And yet somehow, we’ve manage to make it boring.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. Imagine a church where every member understood that they are stewards of the mysteries of God. Imagine a church where leaders took character as seriously as Chick-fil-A takes customer service. Imagine a church where the facilities were cared for not out of pride but out of gratitude. Imagine a church where evangelism wasn’t a program but a habit. Where members were so captivated by God’s glory and so satisfied in Christ that they couldn’t help talking about him. Where the quality of our relationships, the depth of our joy, and the authenticity of our love drew people to ask, “What makes you different?” We can have that. We can cultivate a culture where God’s glory is the organizing principle of everything we do. But it will require a choice.

May God give us grace to pursue excellence not because we must but because we may. And may our congregational culture be such that when the world looks at us, they see past us to the God we serve and say with wonder, “Surely the LORD is in this place” (Gen 28:16).