#StandUnoffended

By: Kolleen Lucariello

I was raised in the church, where attendance wasn’t optional, but attentiveness? That was another story. As a teen, it became easier to want to be there to connect with my friend, Janette.  She was the one I looked forward to seeing on Sundays, not Jesus. I wouldn’t come to know Him personally until years later, after a devastating loss in our family forced Pat and me into a dance with grief. This tragedy led us to seek healing and hope in Christ, and as we did, everything began to change. Our hearts. Our marriage. And the trajectory of our family.

Much like my parents endured years of protests from me, I would hear the same complaints as our family got ready for church. Attendance became non-negotiable in our home, too. Pat and I understood the value of a faith foundation, but I also understood the temptations our kids would face. In my efforts to protect their faith, I began setting more and more rules, which I thought were wise boundaries. But eventually, discernment mixed with fear, and I began fencing them in. I wanted to keep them from missing Jesus, like I had. So, instead of guiding with grace, I added extra layers of boundaries to protect what I believed mattered most: obedience to God and His Word. But fear-driven rules often lead to rebellion or resentment.

At first, it felt wise—even biblical—to list the reasons why they "couldn’t" or "shouldn’t". But when I look back, I can see I wasn’t just setting boundaries, I was unintentionally fencing them in. I had good intentions but good intentions don’t always lead to godly outcomes. Especially when fear is in the driver’s seat.

I’ve since realized I was doing exactly what the Pharisees of Jesus' day once did—fencing the Torah. With good intentions, they added extra layers of rules to protect God’s law, hoping to help people stay obedient. But over time, those fences became heavy burdens, preventing people from encountering the God they claimed to serve. They couldn’t even recognize the Messiah when He stood in front of them.

Rabbi Jason Sobel writes in Mysteries of the Messiah that the Pharisees weren’t villains—they were devoted to God’s holiness. They understood identity, knowing God had called His people to be a kingdom of priests. But their zeal for holiness led them to protect the law more than they pursued the heart of God. I see that now. My fear made me trade guidance for control. My fences, though well-intentioned, created barriers between my children and grace. But Jesus came to tear those barriers down—not just for them, but for me too. And as I’ve learned, tearing down old systems of belief can be just as hard now as it was then.

Jesus had this divine habit of upsetting the religious leaders—not out of recklessness or rebellion, but to reveal signposts of the New Covenant breaking through the old system. Every confrontation was an invitation: to see God doing something new, to recognize the Messiah in their midst. But their hearts were so tethered to the rules and rhythms of the Law that they couldn’t recognize the value of who Jesus was or how God was moving through Him. So when Jesus said, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30 TLV), He wasn’t just offering comfort—He was offering a New Covenant. He was inviting them to interpret Scripture through a new lens: the Law of Love. It was a call to rest, not more rules. An invitation to step away from the fences of man-made religion that had become so rigid, they created offense instead of offering freedom.

Are we more like the Pharisees than we realize? Jesus confronted the Pharisees not because they were bad people, but because they clung to religious traditions that blocked the revelation of God's heart. When we cling to those religious contracts instead of the person of Christ, we risk fencing ourselves off from the very freedom He came to give—to us and others. But when we embrace His yoke of love, we exchange ritual for relationship, law for life, and offense for identity.

This is the conversation we’re having this month in our Activ8Her chapter meetings.

We’re learning how to release the religious contracts we’ve made—those well-meaning but misguided attempts to fence others into a Law that left out love and grace.

Jesus said that love fulfills the Law, and he cared more about people being made right by understanding their kingdom identity than about them behaving right. Because behavior shifts when offense hasn’t distorted relationship.

Looking back, I realize that what my kids needed most wasn’t tighter rules—it was a truer relationship. Not just with me, but with Jesus. As I do the work to tear down the fences fear had built, I begin to build bridges of grace, trust, and identity. Now, I don’t just want them to follow the rules; I want them to follow Jesus. To know His voice, His love, and their place in His Kingdom. And I’m still learning how to walk that out with them, standing unoffended because I am less afraid, and firmly rooted in the freedom Christ died to give us all

Let’s #StandUnoffended together and acknowledge that sometimes, our faith has been shaped more by personal perspective than by actual Biblical truth. It’s time to let Jesus redefine holiness, relationship, and identity—through love.

Find a chapter near you here!