2026: From Momentum to Mandate

Why Passion Alone Won't Shift the Culture

Ted Yule Dec 30, 2025

Recently I caught a football game I wouldn’t normally touch with a ten-foot pole: Oregon State versus Sam Houston University. Not exactly headline material. Oregon State was limping in at 2 wins vs. 7 losses, and Sam Houston hadn’t won a single game all season—0–8. Classic “who cares” territory. But for some reason, I tuned in around halftime. And I’m glad I did.

Oregon State came out swinging. They outgained Sam Houston in just about every stat you’d want—passing yards, rushing yards, first downs, time of possession. Sam Houston had just eight first downs and was outgained 474–157 in total yards. (Stay with me 'non-football fans', this is going to make sense.) Oregon State looked like the better team. Bigger plays. Better execution. Stronger presence. On paper, they dominated.

But somehow, they lost.

The game stats tell the story: Oregon gave up two interceptions, a fumble, a blocked punt returned for a touchdown, and—just for flair—a 98-yard kickoff return allowed. That’s not just sloppy. That’s how you totally outplay a team and still walk away with another notch in the loss column.

If you’re not a football fan, here’s the simple version: Oregon State did almost everything right—until it mattered most.

In football, games aren’t won by who gains the most yards or looks better statistically. They’re won by who protects the ball, controls momentum, and avoids critical mistakes in decisive moments. Interceptions and fumbles don’t just stall your progress—they hand control directly to the other team. A blocked punt or a long kickoff return isn’t just a mistake; it’s an open door that turns effort into instant points for the opponent. Oregon State did the hard work between the lines, then repeatedly gave the other team short, effortless paths to score. In plain terms: they outperformed their opponent and still sabotaged themselves.

That’s what made the game so unsettling—and why it felt uncomfortably familiar.

Because this is a picture of the modern Church.

Over the last fifty years, we’ve put up some impressive spiritual stats. Powerful preaching. Global missions. Worship music that has circled the planet. Humanitarian efforts that have genuinely helped millions. In church terms, we’ve moved the ball down the field.

But we’ve also committed unforced errors at critical moments.

While we celebrated growth inside the sanctuary, we lost control of the cultural field. While we focused on attendance, the enemy gained influence. Entire spheres—education, media, government, arts, business—were left uncovered. We advanced on Sundays and surrendered ground Monday through Saturday. Like Oregon State, we assumed dominance in one area would carry the scoreboard. It didn’t.

In Kingdom terms, we won yardage but lost field position. We had activity but surrendered authority. We had passion but lacked placement.

Trying without strategy is how you give up 98-yard kick returns.

We pursued revival in the church while neglecting reformation in the culture. We fought hard on familiar turf but ignored the overlooked arenas where long-term outcomes are decided—school boards, corporate leadership, creative industries, policy tables, and local governance. Those are the “special teams” moments of culture: ignored by many, decisive in every game.

The truth is, we settled for spiritual effort instead of societal transformation. We played a strong religious game while forfeiting influence in the spaces that actually shape nations. And now we’re wondering why public policy, family structures, education systems, and moral frameworks feel like they’ve been run back for a touchdown by the other side.

But here’s the good news as we enter 2026: the season isn’t over.

Jesus didn’t just save us so we could attend church. He recruited us to govern with Him. He gave us the keys of the Kingdom—not so we could lock ourselves inside religious spaces, but so we could unlock heaven’s reality in every sphere of culture. The problem has never been a lack of Kingdom power; it’s been a lack of Kingdom placement. Too much authority has been parked in pews instead of released into the world.

As we step into a new year, the call is simple—and weighty: stop thinking like spectators and start living like ambassadors. You don’t need a platform or a pulpit. You need clarity about your assignment and the courage to walk it out. Whether you’re in business, education, government, media, the arts, or raising the next generation at home, you’ve been entrusted with real territory. And territory is never taken accidentally.

So let’s enter 2026 listening again—not just for personal encouragement, but for strategic direction. What is God saying about your field of influence right now? Where have comfort, compromise, or confusion dictated the plays? Where has the enemy been scoring easy points simply because we left part of the field unattended?

This isn’t about blame. It’s an invitation.

The Kingdom of God isn’t retreating—it’s advancing. But it advances through people who know who they are, what they carry, and where they’ve been sent. You’re not on the bench. You’re not second string. You’re called, commissioned, and equipped to bring heaven’s reality into the places that shape the future.

We can’t afford another year—let alone another generation—of spiritual momentum paired with cultural absence. As 2026 begins, it’s time to re-enter the spaces we abandoned. Not with anger or arrogance, but with excellence, wisdom, and Holy Spirit-led authority. The scoreboard may not reflect the stats we’re used to seeing—but the second half belongs to those who show up ready to play Kingdom ball.

No more fumbles. No more blocked punts. Let’s run the right plays, in the right places, with the Spirit of God leading the offense. The enemy may have put points on the board—but this was never his game to win.