One of the interesting things about human nature is that we don’t really struggle with obedience in general — we struggle with who we’re obeying.

For instance, if a stranger in a parking lot tells you to move your car, your response will most likely be much different from if a police officer with lights flashing behind you signals to pull over. The action may look the same (you move your car), but what changed? Your perception of authority.

The same thing happens in everyday life. If your co-worker suggests you redo a report, you might weigh your options or flat out tell them to jump into the lake. But if your boss says the report needs to be redone, your decision becomes much simpler. In other words, authority clarifies obedience very well.

The truth is, obedience becomes easier when we are convinced of both someone’s authority and their character. If we trust that a person has the right to lead and that they have our good in mind, obedience doesn’t feel oppressive — it feels reasonable.

That brings us to something deeply spiritual.

Many of our struggles with obedience toward God are not primarily struggles of rebellion. They are struggles of perception. We say we believe God is powerful. We say we believe He is good. But in the daily realities of life — in our decisions about forgiveness, generosity, surrender, trust — we often operate with a much smaller view of Him than we realize. And this is where our Hallelujah series comes into focus.

Praise is not just emotional expression. Praise is perspective correction. When we lift our voices in Hallelujah, we are not informing God of who He is — we are reminding ourselves. Praise enlarges our awareness of His greatness and His goodness. And when that awareness grows, obedience begins to make sense.

When it comes to praising God, have you ever found yourself in an awkward position because the language of worship is a foreign language to you. I mean, even the word Hallelujah, someone asked me last week, they said they know it's some kind of praise for God - but what does it actually mean? And, I thought --- yeah, that would have probably been a good idea to define it for you... It's Hebrew for (ready for it?) PRAISE GOD.

What happens when you have believers who love God, who believe in God - but when it comes time to express praise and worship to God, they just fall back on something rote, without a lot of meaning to it, and something they may not understand, so they really can't be intentional about it.

It's like memorizing the phrases before heading to another country, but not really understanding the language because you aren't fluent in it.

In the same way our worship may become more meaningful when we learn to be fluent in our Hallelujah. Because praise has a vocabulary. Heaven has a language. And God invites us to learn how to speak it. And it comes, first of all, with remembering WHO God is and WHAT He does.

Hallelujah is a powerful word, a powerful concept. It brings in the power of God into the circumstances of our lives in a way that no other word truly can. If we turn it off, we could easily fall into the habit of forgetting what the Bible has to say about praise and adoration and worship and gratitude for what God has done, who He is, and what He is about.

So for the weeks leading up to Easter, I want us to look at several aspects of Hallelujahs in the life of the believer, and today I want us to consider the power of the CHOSEN Hallelujah.

As you look at scripture, we see people like King David, and Habakkuk, and the writer of Hebrews suggesting a radical approach to the circumstances surrounding our Hallelujahs.

Again, because of the "rate and review" culture we live in, it's easy to slip into Hallelujahs when things are going great...but what happens when things turn and aren't going our way, times when we would love to give God a one-star review?

As a family drove home after church, the dad was complaining about everything. He said, “The music was too loud. The sermon was too long. The announcements were unclear. The building was hot. The people were unfriendly.” He went on and on, complaining about virtually everything. Finally, his observant son said, “But Dad, you’ve got to admit that it wasn’t a bad show for a dollar!”

So let’s just identify the elephant in the room right up front. Anytime a pastor starts talking about money in church, people immediately get nervous. Some of you right now are thinking, “Oh good. This is THAT sermon.” Others are checking to see if your wallet is still in your pocket. And a few of you are wondering if today might be a good day to suddenly need to get up to go to the bathroom!

Money has a way of doing that to us. You can talk about prayer, forgiveness, evangelism, even sin — and people will nod politely. But mention money, and suddenly everyone gets very spiritual and very suspicious at the same time.

And here’s the irony: the Bible talks about money all the time. Jesus talked about money more than almost any other subject—not because He wanted something from people, but because He knew money has a way of quietly taking something from us.

So if you’re feeling a little tense already, relax. This is not a guilt sermon. This is not a pressure sermon. This is not a “the lights might go off if you don’t give” sermon. This is a discipleship sermon.

Because 1 Timothy 6 isn’t actually about budgets. It’s about what kind of people we are becoming.

Discontentment is an American epidemic. Maybe we're susceptible to that epidemic because we live in the most affluent society in the history of the human race. And discontentment is fed by the advertising industry, as it promises us time and time again that our discontentment will disappear if we just buy what they're selling.

And though, intellectually, we know those promises aren’t really true, but something deep inside our soul - the part that’s not rational - cries out, "Maybe this will make my restlessness go away or fill up my emptiness." And yet, the tragic truth of creating this kind of hunger in a population is that these things will NEVER be the solution. Because the problem goes deeper than what material things can bring to my life.

Last week, we dealt heavily with showing respect and honor to all people in the church, focusing MAINLY on the generation gap. But I hope you saw that the underlying principle Paul was trying to get across to Timothy was all about respect. It would have been difficult for some to be in Timothy's position... being a younger leader, but having the responsibility of leading those who were his elders, and who by that measure, deserved honor and respect.

It's not always easy being a leader. It's a calling and a responsibility that, at times, doesn't win you many friends.

Leadership is a unique thing. Not everyone is called into it - and there are some perks to being a leader, it's a rough road. You are called to not just be out in front (a person who leads but has no followers is just taking a walk, I've been told) - but to make sure the direction you are headed in is correct, that you are looking out for the good of your team, that you make decisions that will build up those under your care. And again, those decisions aren't always popular.

I will tell you after 35 plus years in full-time vocational church ministry that leadership in the church is just as hard as leadership on a sub...and at times, I would venture to say, is even HARDER because you are taking the lead with folks who claim to be followers of Jesus, but who oftentimes don't ACT like it. They're your brothers and sisters in Christ, not just people in your congregation. And as long as there are people in churches, there will be times when people will act like people and other people will be wounded.

So with that in mind, I think this next passage of Scripture is good for a church in general to hear. It's about HOW a church can lift up its leaders, and avoid inflicting too many wounds on those who have been called to love and to lead the Church.