Summer Bible studies for real conversations in 2026

I’ve been nervous about starting this Bible study church.

Captured by Mitchell Royel in the Fashion District
soft light, sharp edges, late afternoon attitude

now playing Sweet Smooth Talker by Young Pulse Fleur De Mur.

Not nervous in the dramatic, “I don’t know if God will show up” kind of way. I think God has been showing up the whole time. I’m more nervous about whether I’ll have the courage to not ruin it by performing.

That’s the honest version.

Because when you start anything spiritual, especially in a place like L.A., there’s this weird pressure to make it look clean before it’s even alive. You start thinking about the lighting, the room, the name, the Instagram post, the tone, the way people will describe it afterward. You start imagining the type of person you’re supposed to become in order to lead it.

And that’s where I get uncomfortable.

I’ve toured a lot of Hollywood churches. Some of them are beautiful. Some of them are genuinely full of people who love Jesus and want to serve. I don’t want to sound cynical, because I’m not. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice a pattern.

There are a lot of smooth Bible-thumping guys out here.

Polished. Branded. Confident in a way that feels almost too rehearsed. They know when to pause. They know how to say something edgy but safe. They know how to make conviction sound like a podcast clip. They can quote Scripture, land the joke, soften the hard part, and still leave the room feeling like they won.

And maybe that works for some people.

But it makes me nervous.

Not because I think I’m above it. Honestly, because I know how easy it would be to copy it.

It would be easy to build something that feels spiritual but never gets too honest. It would be easy to say the right things about grace and truth while quietly avoiding the conversations that might make people shift in their seats. It would be easy to create a Bible study where everyone feels inspired, but nobody feels exposed.

That’s not what I want.

This summer, I want Bible studies that feel like the truth.

I want straight talk. Not harsh talk. Not performative “realness.” Not using honesty as an excuse to be careless with people. I mean the kind of straight talk that loves people enough to stop pretending. The kind that can say, “I’m struggling,” without turning it into a brand. The kind that can open Scripture and not immediately smooth out the parts that confront us.

I want to talk about Jesus like He is actually present, not like He is a topic we’re trying to make interesting.

I want to talk about sin without sounding like I’m auditioning to be someone’s moral authority. I want to talk about grace without making it cheap. I want to talk about doubt, temptation, loneliness, ambition, lust, money, status, prayer, forgiveness, and all the quiet stuff people carry into church but rarely say out loud.

And yes, that makes me nervous.

Because straight talk costs something.

It costs the image of being the chill, impressive guy who has the perfect spiritual take. It costs the comfort of staying vague. It costs the ability to hide behind Christian language when the real issue is fear, pride, or insecurity.

I think that’s why I keep coming back to the word “authenticity,” even though it’s overused now. I don’t mean authenticity as a vibe. I mean it as a discipline.

Telling the truth when a polished answer would make you look better.

Letting silence sit in the room.

Admitting when you don’t know.

Refusing to turn every Bible study into a performance.

I don’t want this summer to be about building a platform. I want it to be about building a room where people can breathe, open the Bible, and tell the truth in front of God.

That sounds simple, but it’s not.

Because the culture around faith can get strangely theatrical. Especially here. Everything has a look. Everything has a sound. Even vulnerability can start to feel produced. You can walk into a church service and feel like you’re watching a very sincere show.

Again, I’m not saying that to mock anyone. I get it. Excellence matters. Beauty matters. Communication matters. But there’s a line somewhere. And once we cross it, the room starts to feel less like a place of worship and more like a place where everyone knows their role.

I don’t want to know my role that well.

I want to be faithful.

So this summer, we’re keeping it simple.

Bible studies. Honest conversations. Straight talk.

No spiritual flexing. No pretending we’re more mature than we are. No acting like following Jesus is easy just because we know the language. No hiding behind smooth answers when the truth would actually set somebody free.

I’m sure I’ll mess some of it up. I’m sure there will be awkward moments. I’m sure I’ll overthink things I shouldn’t and under-prepare for things I should’ve seen coming.

But I’m starting to think nervous isn’t always a warning sign.

Sometimes nervous just means you care.

Sometimes it means you’re close to something that requires more than talent. Sometimes it means God is asking you to lead without letting your ego take the wheel.

That’s the prayer, at least.

That this Bible study church would be more honest than impressive.

That it would be grounded, not glossy.

That people would come as they are, but not stay untouched.

That we would have the courage to speak plainly, listen deeply, repent quickly, and keep showing up.

This summer, I don’t want to compete with the smooth guys.

I don’t want to out-preach anybody.

I don’t want to sound like I have it all figured out.

I just want to open the Bible with people who are tired of the performance and hungry for what’s real.

And maybe that’s enough to begin.

-Pastor Mitchell Royel