Joby Martin - This Generation's "Homer Lindsey, Jr." in Jacksonville

Joby Martin is just about everywhere these days. He’s doing, what, five or more podcasts every week? My YouTube feed seems to think I’m on staff at Church of Eleven22 because it serves me new Joby clips daily. But I’ll be honest with you, I don’t skip them.

I’ve been watching pastors for more than thirty years. I’ve seen the good ones, the bad ones, and the phony-baloney ones who could sell ice to an Eskimo if it came with a church logo on it. And the more I see of Joby Martin, the more I appreciate the man.

Here’s one simple contrast between Joby and the last megachurch pastor I personally experienced (and many of you longtime readers know exactly who I’m talking about). Joby loves Jacksonville. He’s not using this city as a stepping-stone to a bigger stage or a book deal or his next mega gig. He's not here for the short-term. He came here to serve as a youth pastor at a small Baptist church in Jax Beach, and then the pastor there helped launch Joby to start 11:22, and he loves this town. I watched him recently on The Speakeasy podcast with Daniel Davis, and he talked about how much he loves this city; the people, the water, the weather, the hunting, the fishing, everything about it. He said he plans to stay here for the rest of his life. Imagine that: a megachurch pastor who actually wants to live among the people he’s serving.

That’s rare. Too many of these big-name guys parachute in from out of town, or they ride the tithes while they can, and bolt the minute the heat turns up or the money slows down. We’ve seen that play out right here in Jacksonville at multiple megachurches in the last 10 years. But Joby Martin? He reminds me of Homer Lindsay. And no, they’re far from carbon copies obviously, but both men share a genuine love for this city and its people and they are building a church to help the people in this city. Homer built FBC Jacksonville because he loved Jacksonville. Joby is doing the same thing in his own way at Eleven22 and he is absolutely crushing it. 

He’s also a family man. You can hear it when he talks about his marriage and kids. There’s no fake piety  or fake humility; just a dad and husband who loves his family and tries to lead by example. And the man can preach. Most megachurch preachers are fine as long as the sermon is scripted and the lights are perfect. But Joby shines best when he’s unscripted, when someone throws him a question about life or faith or wisdom, and he just talks. No pretense. No catchphrases. Just truth, delivered with heart and clarity. I guarantee you the typical megachurch showman can't do what Joby does. Most of these megachurch pastors are phony and empty vessels if you sit them down and make them answer questions and apply Christianity to everyday life. 

We’ve had our share of pastors in Jacksonville who left wreckage behind: churches divided, reputations ruined, faith shaken. I don’t see that coming from Joby Martin. He’s grounded. He’s consistent. And, more importantly, he’s real.

So yes, I’ll say it again: Joby Martin is this generation’s Homer Lindsay.

We’ve got something special here in Jacksonville with Joby Martin and Church of 11:22.

Joby Martin Might Be the Real Deal — And That’s Saying Something in This Town

Let me start with something you don't often hear on this blog: I'm impressed.

No, not the usual “megachurch-pastor-said-something-slick” kind of impressed. I mean genuinely, cautiously, “this-guy-might-actually-be-legit” impressed. And I’m talking about none other than Jacksonville’s own redneck revivalist—Pastor Joby Martin of Church of Eleven22.

Jacksonville has seen its share of frauds in megachurch pulpits. I've chronicled at least 10 of them on this blog. Money grubbers, sexual deviants, those who covered for and protected sexual deviants, and just plain off-your-rocker nutjobs - even one that used the church resources to build a hotel right next to the church that is family could run. It's time Jacksonville has a megachurch pastor that is legit. 

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve got another post in the works—almost finished—that dives into what Joby has accomplished in building one of the most explosive church movements this city has seen since the glory days of Homer Lindsay. That post will analyze the numbers, the reach, the culture, the empire. But before we even get to the empire, I need to pause and say this: the guy can preach.

And I don’t mean he can tell a good story and yank a few tears. I mean the guy can actually preach the Bible—without sounding like he’s been rehearsing in front of a mirror for six hours while sipping a caramel macchiato. He’s raw. He’s real. And oddly enough, he’s refreshingly redneck in all the best ways. You can tell he’s not trying to impress the seminary elites. He just genuinely wants to help people understand the Bible and apply it to their lives.

But what seals it for me—what separates Joby from the rest of the stage-act pulpiteers—is what he does after the sermon. You’ve got to watch the church's YouTube podcast called Deepen with Pastor Joby. Every week—usually posted the Monday after the weekend services—Joby sits down for a solid hour with one of his associate pastors (forgive me, I still don’t know the guy’s name, but he does a great job moderating), and often one or two other team members or guests. They talk through the sermon. Not just the three points and a poem, but the Scripture. It is conversational but not forced, and they're not jokesters trying to be hip and funny and cool.  But neither are they super theological spiritual in the clouds. They try to apply Christianity to real life. All of it—with an open Bible and no notes.

It’s not fluff. It’s not show. It’s not a branding exercise. It’s the kind of pastoral unpacking and reflection that shows a man who understands what he preached, who knows how to expand on it without contradicting himself, and who’s genuinely interested in making sure the people at his church don’t just hear the Word—they get it. And I challenge you to find me any megachurch pulpiteer who can preach a 45-minute sermon and then sit down and talk about what he just preached as clearly and plainly as Joby. If you know of one, let me know.

I’ve watched a lot of megachurch pastors in my time. I’ve seen the ones who can strut across a stage, tell history lessons, impress with their dress, and hoot and holler and perform. I’ve seen the ones who turn every sermon into a TED Talk with a Bible verse stapled to the back end. But this is different. Joby isn’t up there trying to impress you—he’s trying to help you yet isn't afraid to offend you. And for that, he’s earned my respect.

Stay tuned—I’ve got a full breakdown coming soon on what he’s built at Church of Eleven22, why it matters, and why I think he just might be the closest thing Jacksonville’s seen to a modern-day Homer Lindsay, Jr. But for now, let’s give credit where it’s due.

Joby Martin can preach—and he does it for the right reasons.

When Fundamentalism Fails: Why a Matriarch Must Let Go to Hold the Family Together

Let’s talk about something I should have included in my last post about the modern Christian matriarch—something I’ve seen firsthand, something that’s hurting families. It’s this: A true matriarch knows when it’s time to let go of religious fundamentalism.

Now I know, cue the gasps from the doctrinally pure Southern Baptists. I’ve heard the pushback before: “You’re not supposed to change your religious views just to accommodate your kids.” But let me tell you—when reality kicks you hard enough, when your theology collides with your family's experiences or your get a glimpse of some of the awful things religious fundamentalism brings about in churches—you begin to see how brittle fundamentalism really is. It’s not just unbending, it’s unlivable.

Here’s the truth. If your view of Christianity only works when everyone in the family turns out like you expected—then it was never grace, it was control.

I’ve seen this play out over and over again. In our extended family, as I mentioned the adult children have taken very different spiritual paths. Some have clung to the conservative traditions they grew up with. Others have swung in the opposite direction, embracing progressive theology—or perhaps no theology at all. And if a matriarch wants a seat at the table with all of them, she better be someone who leads with love, not litmus tests.

The smart matriarch doesn’t measure her children by what she hoped they’d become spiritually. She’s not sitting there evaluating their church attendance, their doctrinal purity, or whether they’re raising their kids with the same rules she raised them with. She’s simply glad they’re still around. Because if  your adult kids feel judged, if they sense your continual disapproval—guess what? They won’t be around. Not emotionally. Not spiritually. And eventually, not physically either.

This is where the old guard - guys like Homer Lindsay and Jerry Vines - really did us no favors. Their favorite line was, “You either believe all of the Bible or none of it.” That kind of theological chest-thumping doctrinal purity might light up the gigglers and amen’ers at FBC Jax, but let’s be honest - it burns bridges faster than it builds faith. If that’s the framework you hand your kids, don’t act shocked when they eventually walk away from, well, all of it or most of it.

I’ve said this for years, and every time I do, the faithful hyperventilate and accuse me of “going liberal.” But this isn’t about my beliefs about the inerrancy of scripture - it’s about the box you hand your kids. When you tell them it’s all or nothing, most of them, in the quiet of their own hearts, just choose nothing. Not because they hate God. But because the version of faith they were offered left no room to question or doubt. All-or-nothing sounds noble in a sermon. But in real life, it’s just a great way to lose your kids.

A healthy matriarch, the kind who draws the family in, who becomes a spiritual anchor instead of a spiritual threat, understands that. She knows the difference between real faith and religious performance. She has the courage to evolve. Not to water things down, but to root her faith in something bigger than behavioral conformity. She makes space at the table. She listens. She doesn’t flinch when someone questions doctrine or has more liberal views. And she doesn’t lose sleep when her grown kids don’t parrot the religious party line of the SBC.

Because here’s the beautiful irony: once your children know that you love and respect them exactly where they are, they’re more likely to stick around and let you be part of their journey and maybe even let you influence it. As your adult kids have their own children, they will very likely return to more of their traditional religious views and norms if you've set an example of love for them and haven't pushed them away with your strict religious views.

But stay rigid? Stay judgmental? Stay anxious over religious views of your kids?

They may be gone.

So yes, let go. Relax your grip on your past fundamentalism. Not because your theology was never sincere. But because your children - and your relationships - matter more than your doctrinal checklist.

That’s what real spiritual maturity looks like.

That’s what a matriarch knows.

The Long Road, the Right Path: Honoring Yvette Rich

Today, I want to share something deeply personal and meaningful—a tribute to someone who has quietly and faithfully made a difference for the past 17 years: my wife, Yvette Rich.

Yvette just retired from her role at Christian Family Chapel here in Jacksonville, Florida, where she served as a preschool assistant and as an interpreter for Spanish-speaking families navigating the preschool and ministry programs. She was a bridge for families, a calming presence for anxious kids, and a dependable face of love and consistency for nearly two decades. The parents knew it, the children felt it, and the ministry was better because of her time there. Yvette has a bachelor's degree in medical technology from the University of Florida, and before our family started she did work in that field, but in the last 17 years she chose to work with children at CFC.

The significance of her 17-year run at CFC isn’t lost on us—because it started in 2008. That was the same year First Baptist Jacksonville showed us both the door. If you’ve followed this blog, you know the story: I was the squeaky wheel blogging about problems - anonymously at first - that I thought were wrecking the church. And in doing so, I became persona non grata after my authorship of the blog was verified by underhanded means involving the city of Jacksonville and certain church leaders. Yvette, by simple proximity to me, for "associating" with me, paid the price too. We were both served trespass papers served personally by John Blount and Kevin King, and Yvette was prevented from stepping foot on the very church where she herself served in the youth and preschool ministry for over a decade and where we were members for over 20 years. One of her friends at church even insinuated that she should leave me because of my blog and my audacity of criticizing the church and outright mocking of the pastor. But Yvette didn’t. She stood strong and stayed by my side through what became a difficult three-year-long legal battle. She remained faithful—to God, to her family, and to the truth. We were and are still so grateful for her friends who DID stand by her side and supported her - they know who they are.

And now, nearly two decades later, we can both look back and say: we not only survived—we thrived.

Yvette spent 17 years building serving quietly and faithfully Christian Family Chapel after getting the right boot of disfellowship at her church. She now moves into a new season—helping care for our grandchildren, all of whom live right here in Jacksonville and are doing exceptionally well, age 0 to 8. She will be even more present in their lives, just as she has been in the lives of so many little ones through her work. This is a new ministry now—one of legacy, of impact, and of presence.

We have no bitterness toward FBC Jax. In fact, Yvette and I have visited the church several times this past year and reconnected with some old friends. I’ve met with and had a long conversation with Heath Lambert, the current pastor. We swapped stories of what happened when we were kicked out, and his journey in becoming the senior pastor and that awful process he endured, some of which he has chronicled on YouTube.  We discussed what he saw at FBC Jax when he arrived around 2016 or so, and some of what I blogged consistently about back between 2007 and 2012. Heath offered a heartfelt apology on behalf of the church for how both of us were treated. He even extended the offer to apologize to Yvette personally. That meant something. Over the years, other pastors and deacons have reached out with similar sentiments—some even admitting that while they didn’t always agree with my approach, they did come to realize I was right about what was happening to the church.

The house of cards many refused to acknowledge eventually fell. But I take no pleasure in that. I do, however, appreciate Heath Lambert for doing the hard and costly work of fixing what needed to be fixed - he too had to endure some mighty dirty tricks and slander to fix what needed to be fixed. He inherited a mess and did the right thing for the church and it seems FBC Jax is on the right track.

Looking back, we clearly see God’s hand through it all. What felt like a painful exile in 2008 turned out to be the opening of a new path in so many ways. Our faith today is deeper—not the rigid, fundamentalist version we once held, but something real, tested, and enduring. That shift wasn’t easy, especially for Yvette. While I had already begun to question aspects of our old mindset as the events at our church unfolded, it was a longer, more painful process for her. Letting go of that religious framework takes courage and time—but she did it, and she did it with grace and our entire family is better for the journey.

So today, I offer praise and a tip of the hat to Yvette. She stayed faithful when some perhaps would have walked away during a very painful, public shaming process. She took the pain of rejection and turned it into a mission of service. She walked the long road with grace and strength—and now she gets to enjoy the fruits of a life well lived.

Still married to the Watchdog. Still standing. Still thriving. Four grandkids. Faith intact. And a story that turned out far better than the script they tried to write for us.

Congratulations, Yvette. You finished one race—and now, the best part begins.

Staying Relevant in Your Adult Kid's Lives: A Mother's Day Tribute!

One thing I’ve learned as I head into my 60s is this: if you’re in your older years, nearing retirement perhaps, and you want to stay relevant in your kids’ and grandkids' lives—you’re going to have to work for it. Being relevant in your own family doesn’t just happen. You don’t get grandfathered in. It takes intention. It takes showing up. And it takes a certain humility to keep adapting as your role in the family changes.

That’s something I’ve always admired about my mother. Now in her 80s, she’s still an incredibly relevant person in my life day to day. And that’s not an accident—it’s the result of her commitment to staying connected to all of us. After my dad passed earlier this year, that connection feels more important than ever.

She didn’t just sit back and hope she’d stay in our orbit. She lived it. She stayed nearby. Gainesville, then St. Augustine for almost 20 years, and now—finally—15 minutes down the road in Jacksonville. Closer than ever. We see her weekly, not out of obligation, but because we want to. She’s still part of the fabric of our lives. And she made sure of that.

It’s easy to imagine these kinds of long-term relationships “just happening”—but they don’t. They require a level of personal investment that few people are willing to make. Life has a way of drifting people apart. But not my mom. She planted herself close, literally and emotionally. She built relationships with my kids. Now she has real, meaningful connections with her great-grandkids. That’s what I want for myself in my older years—to stay relevant, stay connected, and still matter in the lives of my family.

Of course we all know, the role of a parent doesn’t end—it just changes. And if you don’t learn to grow with it, you risk becoming background noise in your own family. You can’t parent 30-year-olds the way you parented 13-year-olds. But you can still guide. You can still encourage. You can still influence—if you’re willing to let go of control and lean into connection. The most impactful parents I know in their older years are the ones who’ve learned to become wise friends, not constant critics. They don’t smother, but they don’t disappear either. They listen more. They support and encourage more. They adapt to technology to stay connected. And when they speak truth, it lands—because it comes from love, not control.

And let’s not sanitize this story with flowers and inspirational quotes. My mom was tough. She was a disciplinarian, and we knew not to cross her. There was just the right amount of fear in our house. Say “God darn it”? Get your mouth washed out with Coast soap. Test the boundaries too far? The belt was an option - actually the belt was dad, maybe for my mom it was the hair brush as I recall. But I never questioned her love for us. Her discipline shaped me—and honestly, it’s something too many families have lost.

I also learned from her how to evolve. How to go from being a parent to being a friend. All three of my kids are now in their 30s, and we have that kind of relationship now—where we can joke, laugh, and just enjoy each other’s company. We enjoy traveling together. I learned that from watching my mom. She never stopped being present. Never stopped cheering us on. Never lost that balance between telling you the truth and still being in your corner.

She’s a Midwesterner—raised in Coldwater, Michigan—and you can tell. Down-to-earth. No-nonsense. Full of common sense and not afraid to speak her mind. That came from her parents, and she passed it down to us. That’s the kind of grit and honesty I value most in people. She always managed to speak the truth, but with love. She walked that tightrope between encourager and truth-teller, and she did it masterfully—with us, with our spouses, and with the grandkids.

My mom has always made herself the kind of person people want to be around. And now, in her later years, she’s reaping the benefits of that. She’s surrounded by family, by people who love and respect her, who enjoy her company—not because they have to, but because she’s still relevant. She still matters.

So thank you, Mom. For raising me right. For not pulling punches. For loving us well, and showing us what it really means to live a life that stays connected—across decades, across generations. You taught us that meaning isn’t found in distance or retirement or checking out. It’s found in living life together.

Happy Mother’s Day.