Read: Psalm 57
 
            This is the fourth week of our series, "Rooted in the Story: Great Figures of Faith." We're looking at how God works through the lives of important people in the Bible, focusing on covenant, tradition, and lasting faith. So far, we've seen God meet us in our hardest moments and learned to slow down and pray like Samuel. This week, we're focusing on David. Instead of his victories and crown, we find him in a dark cave, writing Psalm 57. Our theme is "David's Enduring Heart." Through this psalm, we see how faith can help us get through the hardest times without losing hope.
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Psalm 57 was written during one of the darkest times in David's life, when he was hiding in a cave from King Saul. Even though Samuel had already chosen David to be the next king, defeated Goliath, and won the people's respect, he was now running for his life. This contrast is something many of us can relate to. We often think that if God has a plan for us, things will go smoothly. But sometimes, we end up in our own caves—facing job loss, illness, broken relationships, or deep sadness. It can be hard to see how God's promises fit with our struggles. David faces this struggle right away in the psalm with a heartfelt cry: "Be merciful to me, O God; be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, until the destroying storms pass by." David doesn't pretend everything is okay. He's honest about his fear and the danger around him. He sees God not as far away, but as close and caring, like a mother hen protecting her chicks. When life feels overwhelming, real faith means running to God for safety. David trusts God's character and calls out to Him, reminding himself—and us—that even when we can't control what's happening, God is still working for our good.

As we keep reading, the psalm's images become even more intense. In verse 4, David says, "I lie down among lions that greedily devour human prey; their teeth are spears and arrows, their tongues sharp swords." He feels surrounded by danger and people who want to see him fail. Many of us know what it's like to lie awake at night, worried about our problems or what others think of us. It's easy to let fear take over. But right in the middle of this, David's attitude changes. He writes, "My heart is steadfast, O God; my heart is steadfast. I will sing and make melody." How does someone hiding in a cave, surrounded by enemies, find the strength to praise God? David chooses not to let his situation shape what he believes. He reminds himself of the truth. Even while facing fear, he looks up and says, "Be exalted, O God, above the heavens. Let your glory be over all the earth." This is what it means to have an enduring heart. It doesn't mean you never feel afraid or hurt. It means you choose to trust in God's steady love and faithfulness. David knows that people's anger won't last, but God's faithfulness never ends.

This leads us to one of the most powerful lines in the psalm: "Awake, my soul! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn." David is in a dark place, but he doesn't just wait for things to get better. He tells himself to wake up and praise God, even before the morning comes. Many times, we let our worries set the tone for our day. David shows us another way—he chooses to start his day with gratitude and trust, even before the sun rises. Being "Rooted in the Story" means seeing that people of faith before us went through hard times too. Real faith isn't perfect or untouched. It's faith that has been tested by struggles and still finds a way to hope. When we look at David, we also see a hint of a greater King—one who faced betrayal, suffering, and even death, but overcame it all so we could always find safety with Him.

As you go through your week, you might face your own tough situations. Things may feel tight, the future may seem unclear, and life’s pressures may feel overwhelming. In those times, don’t be afraid to ask God for help. Go to Him for comfort. Let David’s song inspire you. Remind yourself of God’s constant love. Wake up your soul, and choose to praise God—not because life is easy, but because His love is greater than anything you face. May you have a strong heart this week, one that chooses hope and praise even in the darkest times. 
 

​Read: 1 Samuel 3:1-10
 
             We are now in the third week of our series, "Rooted in the Story: Great Figures of Faith." So far, we have seen that God's faithfulness continues through every generation. We have looked at how God meets us in our hardest moments, changing us just as He did with Jacob. Today, we focus on a young boy sleeping near the Ark of the Covenant. Samuel's story teaches us about one of the most important parts of the Christian life: learning to listen. In 1 Samuel 3:1-10, the story takes place during a time when people rarely heard from God. The Bible says, "The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread." The temple's lamp was almost out, and the nation's spiritual life appeared just as dim. Eli, the priest, was getting old and losing his sight, which showed how the priesthood itself was struggling. But even in this darkness, Samuel was in the right place. He was "ministering to the Lord," even if he didn't fully understand what that meant yet.
 
            One of the most relatable parts of this story is Samuel's confusion. God calls his name three times, and each time, Samuel thinks it is Eli calling him. This still happens to us today—we often mistake God's voice for someone or something else. When God speaks, it usually isn't loud or dramatic. Sometimes it feels like a tender nudge from a friend, a thought that keeps coming back in the morning, a strong feeling during a sermon, or even a quiet voice inside us. Like Samuel, we often look to our mentors, our routines, or our past to explain what we feel inside. We hear God's call but don't always recognize where it comes from. We turn to the "Eli" in our lives—our teachers, traditions, or past experiences—trying to understand, only to hear, "I did not call; lie down again." The story tells us honestly, "Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him." This wasn't a failure on Samuel's part; he was just new to hearing God. God was patient and kept calling until Samuel was ready.
 
            This leads us to Eli's important role in the story. Eli was not perfect. He struggled with his own mistakes as a leader, and his health was failing. Still, he had one key strength: he recognized God's voice, even if he wasn't the one hearing it this time. When Samuel came to him the third time, Eli became aware that God was calling the boy. It took humility for Eli to help Samuel. He knew it was time to pass the responsibility on. Instead of being jealous or proud, Eli gave Samuel the most important advice of his life: "Go, lie down, and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.'" We all need someone like Eli—a wise and humble mentor who helps us notice God's work when we are unsure. But this also asks us: are we willing to be an Eli for others? Can we notice when God is speaking to new people in our community and help them listen to God, not only to us?
 
            "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." This simple prayer might be the most powerful one in the Bible. It isn't asking for answers, comfort, or results. Instead, it shows a heart that is open and ready. Samuel didn't say, "Speak, Lord, so I can argue with you," or "Speak, Lord, so I can see if this fits my plans." He just made himself available. In our "Rooted in the Story" series, we are learning that God is always working and always speaking. The problem isn't that God is silent; it's that we are often too busy, distracted, or closed off to hear Him. We focus so much on doing things that we forget how important it is to listen. When Samuel said, "Speak," he gave up his own words. When he said, "Your servant," he gave up his own plans. When he said, "is listening," he gave up his own schedule. Being "Rooted in the Story" means taking on this attitude. It means knowing that being God's servant is what matters most, not our achievements or status.
 
            How can we develop a heart that listens in our daily lives? First, we need to make space for it. The lamp in the temple was burning because Samuel was there. If we want to hear God, we need to spend time in places where He can speak to us. This means making time for quiet, reading Scripture, and learning to sit still with God. Second, we should invite others to help us listen. Trying to figure out God's call alone can be confusing. As Samuel went to Eli, we should share our thoughts and questions with people we trust. Finally, we need to practice listening. You don't have to wait for something dramatic to start praying, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." Try it in your everyday choices—at work, with your family, or before you send an email or go into a meeting. Pause, take a breath, and quietly say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening."
 
            God's word might have been rare in Samuel's time, but it isn't rare now. The same God who called Samuel is calling you today. He knows your name and keeps reaching out to you. He wants to lead you from darkness into His purpose. As you go through this week, remember Samuel in the temple. Even if you feel small or unsure, you are where you need to be. God's lamp is still shining, His presence is with us, and His call is still there in the quietness. I hope you find the courage to listen, turn toward His voice, and pray, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." 
 

​Read: Genesis 32:22-31
 
            We are now in the second week of our sermon series, "Rooted in the Story: Great Figures of Faith." Last week, we looked at how God's purpose continues through every generation. Today, we focus on Jacob, one of the most complex and understandable people in the Bible. Our theme, "Wrestling with God," from Genesis 32:22-31, asks us to face a truth we often avoid: our biggest spiritual growth regularly comes through our hardest struggles. Sometimes, to receive God's blessing, we have to accept our weaknesses.
 
            Genesis 32 gives us one of the most honest and personal moments in the Bible. Jacob has reached his breaking point. He has spent his life running from his brother Esau, whom he cheated, from his father-in-law Laban, and from the results of his own actions. Now, as he heads home to face Esau, he is afraid. He sends his family and belongings across the Jabbok River and stays behind, alone in the dark. In this lonely moment, a "man" appears and wrestles with him until morning. This story teaches us that God often meets us when we are at our lowest, not when we have everything together. Jacob's life was all about striving, which is what his name means. He always tried to get ahead by any means. But in this moment, his struggle becomes something deeper. He is not fighting for wealth or family, but for his own soul.
 
            When the mysterious figure injures Jacob's hip, everything changes. Jacob is hurt and can no longer depend on his own strength. Still, he refuses to let go and cries out, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." This moment is key to our faith. We often see our own struggles—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—as signs that God has left us. But for Jacob, his injury led to his blessing. He had always tried to win by trickery, but now he learns that authentic victory with God comes when we let ourselves be changed by Him. Being blessed by God often means letting go of our own strength and holding on to Him with all we have.
 
            The figure asks Jacob, "What is your name?" This question makes Jacob admit who he really is. By saying "Jacob," he owns up to being a deceiver. At that moment, everything changes. The figure says, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans and have prevailed." Jacob receives a new name, a new identity, and a new future. He is no longer someone who runs away, but someone who stays and faces God. Afterward, "The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip." Jacob does not leave proud or unchanged. He leaves with a limp, a sign of his meeting with God. Every step reminds him that he has wrestled with God and been changed. We often fear our own individual struggles and weaknesses. We want a faith that makes us stronger and more successful. But Jacob's story shows us that real faith sometimes means being humbled and learning to depend on God's grace instead of our own abilities.
 
            As we continue this series on the Great Figures of Faith, I encourage you to bring your own struggles to God. What challenges are you facing right now? What fears or regrets keep you awake at night? Don't be afraid to talk to God about them. Bring your questions, anger, and worries to Him in prayer. You don't have to be strong to come to God; you just need to be honest. Being "Rooted in the Story" means remembering that people of faith in the Bible were not perfect. They were often broken and struggling, but God met them where they were. Just as He did for Jacob, God meets us in our darkest moments. He heals us, gives us a new identity, and sends us out—sometimes with a limp, sometimes with a new challenge, but always with a blessing. This week, I hope you find the courage to hold on to God. Let your struggles be the place where you meet Him. And when a new day comes, may you move forward—even if you are limping—knowing that you are defined by God's blessing and your new identity in Him. Your struggle is not the end; it is the start of your transformation.
 

​Read: Philippians 4:4-7     
 
            We've now reached the third week of our travel through "The Fruit of the Spirit: Living an Intentional Faith." In the past two weeks, we've built our foundation in the Triune God and started to grow the fruits of love and joy. We've seen that these aren't just feelings to chase, but real results of a life grounded in Christ. As we continue, we turn to two more virtues that are the backbone of the Christian life: Peace and Patience. Today, many people think of these as simply being calm or waiting quietly. But in the Bible, peace and patience are much more than that. They give us the power to keep going when life gets tough.
 
            In Philippians 4:4-7, Paul teaches us how to stay steady inside. He writes, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." It's important to remember that Paul wrote these words from prison, not from a place of comfort. He was facing possible execution, yet he still told the church to rejoice. This shows us that biblical peace doesn't mean life is easy. Instead, it means Christ is with us. It's not about neglecting our problems, but about trusting God who is close to us. When Paul says, "let your gentleness be known to everyone" because "the Lord is near," he shows us that our peace comes from knowing that Christ is present. Peace is the steady belief that we are never alone, even when we feel trapped by our circumstances.
 
            If peace is the sense of security we find in God, patience is how we show that security to others. In the New Testament, patience is described as "long-temperedness," meaning the ability to keep going, stand firm, and wait without giving up on what's true. Our world wants everything fast—quick results, quick answers. We tend to think too quickly that faster is better, which makes it hard to cultivate patience. When we have to wait for healing, a job breakthrough, or a restored relationship, it’s easy to get anxious. We might want to take control or give up. But living by the Spirit means learning a new way. Patience is choosing to trust God's timing instead of our own. It's the strength that helps us keep going, even when things are tough.
 
            Paul gets to the heart of why we struggle with impatience and lack peace when he writes, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." Anxiety is when we try to carry the future by ourselves, thinking that worrying will somehow keep us safe or help us get what we want. Paul tells us to trade this heavy load for prayer and thankfulness. Being thankful helps us focus on what we already have, not just what we're missing. When we bring our needs to God in thankfulness, we remember that He is in control of our lives. Letting go of control brings us the "peace of God, which surpasses all understanding."
 
            This peace isn't just a general feeling of calm. Paul says it's like a guard standing at the door of our hearts and minds. In ancient times, a guard was a soldier who protected a city from enemies. In the same way, anxiety, doubt, and fear try to break into our lives and steal our joy and patience. But God's peace stands in the way, protecting us from these negative thoughts. Living with intentional faith signifies choosing each day to trust that God, who began a good work in us, will finish it.
 
            How can we live out peace and patience in our busy, stressful workweek? First, remember that "staying power" isn't just a personality trait. Some people may seem calmer, but anyone can be filled with the Spirit. Try practicing a "prayer pause." When you feel anxiety rising—like when you get a stressful email, face a tight deadline, or deal with a difficult person—pause for a minute. Breathe in, remembering that God is near, and breathe out, letting go of your need to control things. Give the situation to God with thanks, even if you're only thankful that He is still in charge. This modest act of surrender can be a powerful example to others.
 
            Also, try "active waiting." Patience isn't just doing nothing and hoping things work out. It means staying faithful to the small details while you wait for bigger changes. Be kind to the coworker who's hard to get along with, keep showing up for your family, and stay honest even when no one sees. This is how we grow patience—by realizing that waiting doesn't mean God is saying no. It's a time when He is helping us grow and receive more of His grace.
 
            As we keep going in this series, remember that the fruit of the Spirit isn't about personal achievements. It shows that the Holy Spirit is leading your life. Peace and patience are signs that you're no longer trying to control everything yourself. You're trusting God, and that trust is a powerful gift to a world that needs it. I hope your peace stays strong, your endurance lasts, and your life becomes a place of calm in a noisy world. The Lord is close, He is working, and He is growing these fruits in you. Keep going, focus on Him, and let God’s peace protect you today. 

​Read: Galatians 5:22-23 & 1 Corinthians 13:4-8    
 
            We have started our journey into "The Fruit of the Spirit: Living an Intentional Faith." Last week, we focused on the Triune God and saw that our lives are meant to be lived with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, not alone. We learned that intentional faith means making space for God in the everyday, sometimes messy parts of our week. Now, as we begin the second week of this series, we shift from understanding who God is to looking at the first fruits Paul lists in Galatians: Love and Joy. In Galatians 5:22-23, Paul gives us a list of virtues that show what a Spirit-led life looks like. Love is listed first for a reason. In God's Kingdom, love is not simply a feeling or passing thought; it is the foundation for everything else. To exist intentionally, we need to see that love is the ground where all other spiritual fruit grows, and joy is the environment that helps that love thrive.
 
            When we hear 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, it often comes up at weddings or anniversaries, where it sounds gentle and sentimental. But in our daily lives, these verses are actually a bold appeal to live differently. Paul shows us that love is about actions, not just feelings. Love is patient and kind. It does not brag or get easily annoyed. Paul also says love "keeps no record of wrongs." In a world where we track everything, even our hurts and disappointments, choosing not to keep score is a powerful act of faith. Living intentionally means letting go of the mental lists we keep about others. It means bearing, believing, and hoping, even when it would be easier to give up or protect ourselves. Love is the greatest fruit because it asks us to put others first every day. It stands for truth, not just what is easy, and it lasts even when quitting seems like the better choice. This is what helps us grow: remaining dedicated to others' well-being, knowing that God loved us first and does not keep score against us.
 
            If love is the foundation, then joy is the environment wherein love grows and matures. We often mix up joy and happiness, but happiness depends on our circumstances and can come and go quickly. Joy, on the other hand, is a fruit of the Spirit and comes from being connected to God, not from having an easy or perfect day. In our busy and stressful world, joy can seem like a luxury, something we only get if life is going well. But for someone living with intentional faith, joy is essential. It helps balance out the stress and worries we face each week. Joy is the steady belief that, even when life is hard, we are connected to something eternal. If love is how we treat others, joy is the gladness we carry inside as we do it. It gives us the strength to be patient and kind, even when it's difficult. Joy is what makes it possible to keep loving others, even when it feels heavy.
 
            So how do we take these ideas from Scripture and put them into practice in our daily lives? How do we make Love and Joy real and visible in a Spirit-led life? It starts by letting go of the wrongs we hold against others. This week, I encourage you to think of one person or one hurt you are still holding onto. Ask the Holy Spirit to help you let it go for good. You do not have to agree with what happened or excuse it, but for your own growth, you need to let it go. Holding onto past wrongs is like carrying heavy weights while trying to run—you cannot experience freedom while holding onto bitterness. Next, check the atmosphere around you. Are you surrounded by complaining or by joy? Being intentional starts with the words we use. This week, try to swap one complaint at work or home for a conversation about gratitude. It might feel strange at first, but that is how growth begins. Growth is rarely easy, but it is always important. Finally, stay connected to the Source. Remember from last week: you cannot grow this fruit on your own. If you feel your love fading or your joy slipping away, you are not failing—you are just disconnected from God. Pause, take a breath, and invite the Spirit to help you. Remind yourself that you are not working for God's approval, but working with Him, letting His life flow through you.
 
            Love and Joy are not just for the "spiritual elite" or people who seem to have everything together. They are meant for everyone, no matter what your life looks like. As you go through this week, I hope your love is patient, your joy is steady, and your life shows the Spirit at work in you. When you love people who are hard to love and keep your joy during tough times, you show others that there is a different way to live—one that is based on what lasts forever, not just what is happening now. This is what intentional faith is all about: letting God's love and joy shape us so much that others notice. Let's choose to live this way, not only for ourselves, but for a world that needs to see real examples of the Spirit's fruit. As we continue this series, look for these fruits in everyday life. They are growing in ordinary places, ready for us to care for them with the grace we've received. I pray this week brings a bountiful harvest in your heart and in the lives of those around you.
 

​Read: Psalm 8 & 2 Corinthians 13:11-13    
 
          Since the start of the year, we have built an "Unshakable" foundation, traveled the "Wilderness Road," and experienced the powerful change of Pentecost. We have seen that the Resurrection is not only a past event but a living reality that sends us out in mission. Now, with the Spirit among us, we begin a new chapter. This week, we start our new sermon series: "The Fruit of the Spirit: Living an Intentional Faith." In the coming weeks, we will focus on the real, practical signs of a life led by the Spirit. We begin by looking at the source of that fruit: the mystery of the Trinity. Our theme is "The God of Three-in-One," and through Psalm 8 and 2 Corinthians 13:11-13, we see that faith is not just about following rules, but about joining in the relationship God offers.
 
          It makes sense to start this series by looking closely at who God is, because our understanding of the "Fruit of the Spirit" depends on who we believe is at work in us. In Psalm 8, the writer looks up at the sky, sees the moon and stars, and feels humbled. He asks, "What are humans that you are mindful of them?" This question helps us ground our faith in the right place. When we think about how great God is, our pride and self-reliance fade away. We are made "a little lower than God" and "crowned with glory and honor," but this honor is not something we earn. It is a reflection of the One who created the stars and still knows each of us by name.
 
          The greatness of our Creator-God is the first part of our faith. He is the Father who holds the universe and calls it good. But our faith is not just about a distant God. In 2 Corinthians 13, Paul brings this greatness into our daily lives and relationships. He ends his letter with practical advice: "Be restored; listen to my appeal; agree with one another; live in peace." These are the first signs of the "Fruit of the Spirit" we will explore: restoration, unity, and peace. Paul says these are not just good manners; they naturally come from living with the "God of love and peace." If we want to see if our faith is intentional, we should look at our relationships. Do we bring peace? Do we listen? Do we help restore others?
 
          The heart of this passage, and of our whole series, is the blessing in verse 13: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you." Here, the "Three-in-One" is not just a difficult concept to understand but the real source of strength in our daily lives. We have the Grace of Jesus, which meets us when we are weak and forgives us when we fail—a grace we felt when we walked the road to Emmaus and saw Jesus in the breaking of bread. We have the Love of God, the deep care of the Creator who made the heavens and gave us honor. And we have the Communion of the Holy Spirit, the power that came like a wind at Pentecost to fill us and send us out.
 
          Living with 'Intentional Faith' means shaping your daily life around the reality of the Trinity. It's about staying connected to the Spirit and remembering that your choices, words, and acts of service are never done alone. You do them with God, who is a community in Himself. The Trinity shows us that God's very nature is love, not just because He loves us, but because He exists as a perfect, loving, and giving relationship. When you show the fruit of the Spirit, you join in that relationship: you give grace because you've received it, you love because you are loved, and you help build unity because the Spirit brings us together. This is an invitation to step into the relationship of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
 
          When life feels heavy this week, remember the greatness of God in Psalm 8, who cares for you more than the stars in the sky. If you find it hard to love someone or settle a conflict, turn to the grace of Jesus and the peace the Spirit gives. In the end, intentional faith is about making space for God in the ordinary parts of your week, knowing you are not just working for God, but working with Him.
 
          This week, focus on noticing what is happening around you. As you spend time with your family, coworkers, and neighbors, look for signs of the Trinity at work. Where can you show grace? Where can you bring peace? Where can you help build stronger connections? The God of Three-in-One is already working in your life, inviting you to a deeper way of loving. Let us start this new series with open hearts, ready to see how the Spirit will grow His fruit in us—not for our own praise, but for the glory of the God whose name is great in all the earth.

​​Read: Acts 2:1-21    
 
          We have arrived at the summit. Since the first Sunday of January, we have been on a singular, arduous, and beautiful journey. We began by cementing an "Unshakable" foundation for our faith, and throughout the long, dusty months of February and March, we walked "The Wilderness Road." We learned to rend our hearts, drop the weight of our idols, and gaze upon the Resurrection with eyes finally opened to the light. Over the last six weeks, as we lived out the "Echoes of the Empty Tomb," we touched the wounds of Thomas, walked the dusty road to Emmaus, heard the Shepherd's voice, abided in the Vine, practiced the Command of Love, and accepted our commission to be sent into the world. Now, the quiet Eastertide waiting comes to a thunderous end. Our final theme is "The Rushing Wind," based on Acts 2:1-21, the arrival of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.
 
            When the day of Pentecost arrived, the disciples were "all together in one place." It is a scene of profound unity that stands in stark contrast to the fear and scattering they experienced in the days after the crucifixion. This was the result of their obedience—a testament to what happens when a community stops trying to manufacture its own "crowns" and simply waits for God's promise. And then, it happened: "Suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind." The Holy Spirit did not arrive as a gentle suggestion; He arrived as a force of nature. This is the "Rushing Wind" that clears out the cobwebs of our hesitation and the stagnant air of our traditions. It is the breath of God returning to the lungs of the church, filling the entire house and, by extension, the entire world.
 
            The imagery that follows is equally striking: "Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them." Fire, in the language of our journey, has been a constant companion—from the "Refiner's Fire" of our Lenten repentance to the "Fire on the Road" at Emmaus. But here, the fire is no longer a tool of judgment; it is a seal of commission. It rests on each of them, not just the leaders, not just the gifted, but every person who has been following Jesus. This is the moment the church stopped being a group of frightened observers and became a body of empowered participants. The "Echoes of the Empty Tomb" were no longer just stories they repeated to one another; they were a power that propelled them out into the streets to speak the "deeds of power" in languages they had never learned.
 
          The crowd gathered in Jerusalem was "bewildered" and "astonished," and for good reason. They heard the common, Galilean believers speaking to Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and Arabs in their own native tongues. This is the ultimate reversal of the confusion of Babel. At Babel, humanity's pride led to the fragmentation of languages; at Pentecost, the Spirit's presence led to the reconciliation of cultures. The Resurrection life is not a private, comfortable experience; it is a radical, cross-cultural, and world-shifting reality. It demands that we step out of our silos and engage with the diversity of God's creation. As we conclude this series, we must realize that the growth of the early church wasn't powered by strategic planning or human genius; it was driven by the Rushing Wind that refused to keep the Gospel contained within the walls of a single house or a single language.
 
            Yet, even in the midst of this miracle, there were those who "sneered and said, 'They are filled with new wine.'" This is a constant reality for the people of God. When we are truly filled with the Spirit—when our lives are characterized by a joy and a boldness that defy the logic of the world—the world will often label us as "drunk" or "out of our minds." Peter's response is one of the most powerful pivots in Scripture. He stands up with the eleven and calls the world to look at what God is doing. He quotes the prophet Joel, declaring that the "last days" have arrived—the days where God pours out His Spirit on all flesh. No longer is prophecy reserved for the elite or the few; now, sons and daughters, young and old, men and women, even the lowest servants, are empowered to see visions and dream dreams.
 
            This is the great, climactic truth of our five-month journey: the wilderness was never the end, and the tomb was never the final word. The purpose of every lesson we've learned, every weight we've dropped, and every scar we've named is to prepare us to be vessels for the Spirit. The "Unshakable" foundation was meant to support the weight of the fire; the "Wilderness Road" was meant to strip away the clutter so we could hear the wind; and the "Empty Tomb" was the opening of the door that allowed the Spirit to flood into our world. We are no longer wanderers; we are witnesses. We are no longer servants; we are friends. We are no longer branches trying to survive; we are a Vineyard that has finally been set ablaze.
 
            As we move forward beyond this series, do not let the fire go out. Do not let the rushing wind of the Spirit become a stagnant memory of a Sunday morning service. The promise of Pentecost is that the Spirit stays. He is with you as you go back to your "Emmaus" roads, as you return to your work, and as you navigate the complexities of a world that still needs to hear the deeds of power in its own native language. May you be a person of visions and dreams. May you be a person who speaks the truth with the fire of love. May you be a person who invites everyone who calls on the name of the Lord to find salvation. The journey we started in January has led us here, to the breath of God. Breathe it in, carry it out, and let the echoes ring until the whole world knows that the Lord is risen indeed.

Read: John 17:13-19    

We have reached the sixth week of our journey into the "Echoes of the Empty Tomb," and the momentum of this Eastertide season is shifting in a profound and challenging way. Since the very first Sunday of January, we have been building an "Unshakable" foundation for our faith, preparing our hearts for the long, dusty miles of "The Wilderness Road" that stretched across February and March. Together, we have learned what it means to drop our heavy weights, face our deepest temptations, and trust that God can turn our absolute dead ends into doorways of new life. In the weeks following Easter morning, we have sat with the raw reality of our own wounds, felt our hearts burn along the road to Emmaus, listened closely for the Shepherd's voice, and practiced the quiet discipline of abiding in the Vine so that we might live out the radical Command of Love. Now, as the calendar marches steadily toward the horizon of Pentecost, the spiritual sap that has been feeding us in the vineyard is pushing us outward. Our theme for this week is "Sent to Serve," based on Jesus' beautiful High Priestly Prayer in John 17:13-19, and it represents the exact moment where our internal reorientation becomes an external mission.
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          The passage begins with Jesus praying to the Father in the shadow of His impending departure, yet His primary concern is the emotional and spiritual climate of the disciples He is leaving behind. He says, "But now I am coming to you, and I speak these things in the world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves." We spent last week discovering that complete joy is the natural byproduct of loving one another as friends of God, but here, Jesus anchors that joy within a remarkably gritty context. He notes that the world has hated the disciples because they do not belong to the world. Throughout our wilderness series, we practiced fasting from the false idols of cultural validation, anxious striving, and self-sufficiency. Jesus is reminding us that when we are truly reoriented by the Resurrection, we will look and live differently from the surrounding culture. Our joy is complete not because our circumstances are perfect, but because we are no longer tethered to the shifting sands of a world that is passing away.

          This deep sense of distinctiveness often brings with it a very specific spiritual temptation: the urge toward holy isolation. After surviving the wilderness and finding the safety of the Shepherd's fold, our human instinct is often to pull back from a broken, cynical world, lock the doors, and build a fortress of faith where we can safely abide with our own community. Yet Jesus completely shatters this survivalist mindset with a staggering petition: "I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one." The Resurrection life is fundamentally not an extraction plan. Jesus did not conquer the grave simply to transport us into a comfortable spiritual bubble. He intentionally leaves us right where the pain, the doubt, and the brokenness are, promising us His divine protection rather than an easy insulation from reality. The unshakable foundation we built at the start of the year was never meant to be a bunker; it was always meant to be a launching pad.

          To endure this call to stay engaged with a hurting world, Jesus prays for a deep work of inner transformation, asking the Father to "Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth." To be sanctified simply means to be set apart, consecrated, or intentionally repurposed for a holy function. Think back to the grittiness of our wilderness journey—how Jesus used common mud to heal a blind man, or how He took ordinary bread on the Emmaus road and transformed it into a vehicle of divine recognition. When God sanctifies us, He takes our ordinary, everyday lives and sets them apart to be instruments of His glory. We are sanctified by the truth of His Word—the very Word that set our hearts ablaze on the road. This sanctification isn't about moral superiority or pretending we have our lives perfectly together; it is about being so deeply rooted in our identity as God's beloved children that the chaotic currents of the world cannot sweep us away.

          The absolute core of this week's message lands with immense weight in verse 18: "As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world." This is our commissioning order as the church. Notice the precise pattern of this sending: as the Father sent Jesus, so He sends us. Jesus was not sent into the world to dominate, to condemn, or to demand an earthly crown of political power. He was sent to move toward the marginalized, to touch the untouchable, to feed the hungry, and to ultimately lay down His life for His friends. Therefore, to be "Sent to Serve" means that our daily mission must look exactly like His method. We are dispatched into our workplaces, our schools, our grocery stores, and our neighborhoods not to point fingers of judgment, but to carry the same basin and towel that our Master carried.

          This missional pivot can easily feel intimidating, especially as we look ahead and realize that the fire of Pentecost is only a few weeks away. We might feel a lot like the disciples, wondering if our small, ordinary lives can truly carry the massive weight of the Resurrection into a skeptical world. But Jesus closes this portion of His prayer by saying, "And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth." Our sending is completely covered, sustained, and guaranteed by His own holiness and sacrifice. We do not go out to serve on our own authority, nor do we rely on our own limited emotional reserves. The very same Resurrection life that unbound Lazarus and emptied the garden tomb is the power that goes before us and dwells within us as we step out into the world.

          As we live out the reality of Eastertide this week, let us fully embrace our identity as a sent people. The Wilderness Road was our training ground, the vineyard was our fueling station, and the world is now our parish. Look for the practical, quiet opportunities to serve over the next seven days—not out of religious obligation or guilt, but as the joyful overflow of a heart that knows it is deeply loved by the King. Wash the dishes for a tired spouse, extend patience to an difficult coworker, speak words of truth in spaces of deception, and offer your everyday presence as a living echo of the empty tomb. The grave is empty, the Shepherd has spoken, the Gate is open, and the world is waiting. Let us go out together, secure in His truth, protected by His grace, and ready to serve.

Read: John 15:9-17
 
As we keep moving through our series, "Echoes of the Empty Tomb," it feels like the fruit in our spiritual vineyard is almost ready to be picked. Since January, we’ve been building our "Unshakable" foundation. In February and March, we walked "The Wilderness Road," learning to open our hearts, let go of our secrets, and listen for the Shepherd’s voice even when things felt dry. We’ve stood with Thomas, walked the Emmaus road, and last week, we practiced quietly "Abiding in the Vine." Now, in this fifth week of Eastertide, the vine is no longer just a symbol of connection—it’s a call to action. Our theme, "The Command of Love" from John 15:9-17, marks the moment when the life of the Resurrection shows itself as a gift for others.
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Jesus starts this passage by reminding us, "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love." This is the first and most important step. Before we can follow the "Command of Love," we need to know that we are loved just as deeply as the Father loves the Son. This love isn’t something we earn by doing well on the wilderness road; it’s simply who we are. To abide in His love means to settle into the truth that we are chosen. Throughout our series, we’ve seen that the Resurrection is not only about Jesus coming back to life, but about bringing us back to the Father’s heart. When we live in this love, our obedience comes naturally, not from trying to prove ourselves.

But Jesus doesn’t just ask us to sit and reflect. He gives us the "Command of Love," saying, "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." This is what the empty tomb means for our everyday lives in 2026. After weeks of looking inward—repenting, seeing, and learning to stay close to him—we are now called to act. The love Jesus asks for isn’t just a feeling; it’s a choice to give of ourselves. It’s such love that "lays down its life for its friends." Most of us won’t be asked to die for others, but we are all called to set aside our pride, our plans, and our need to be right. This is the kind of love that lasts—the love that changed the disciples and started the early church.

This week’s scripture shows a significant change: Jesus calls us friends rather than servants. He says, "I do not call you servants any longer... but I have called you friends." This changes how we see ourselves. A servant obeys out of duty or fear, but a friend acts out of closeness and common purpose. In our "Unshakable" series, we saw God as our refuge, but now we see Him as our companion. This friendship helped the early church through hard times, and it helps us too. We are not just workers; we are trusted friends of the King. He has shared His heart with us, and that brings us real joy.

Jesus also explains why he gives these commands: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete." This is the heart of the "Echo of the Empty Tomb." Earlier, we were just trying to survive, looking for hope and light. Now, during Eastertide, we are invited to experience real joy. This joy comes from living out the command to love. It’s a deep satisfaction that comes when Christ’s love flows through us to others. When we love each other, we’re not just following a rule—we’re sharing in God’s own happiness.

As we look ahead to Pentecost, we remember that we didn’t choose this journey—He chose us. "You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit." This is our solid foundation. We don’t need to worry about being "loving enough" or "productive enough" on our own. Jesus chose us to carry His love, even when we were lost or afraid. He calls us to bear "fruit that will last," which means that every modest act of love—like a kind word, a generous gesture, or simply listening—matters forever. These are the echoes that last long after we’re gone.

This week, I encourage you to live as God’s friend. Bring the "Command of Love" into your daily life—at home, at work, and in your neighborhood. If you stay connected to the Vine, you don’t have to force love; just let it flow. Find ways to give up a little comfort to help someone else. Remember, you were chosen for this time. The wilderness prepared us, but now our mission is to love. As Pentecost approaches, let your love show that the resurrection is more than a story—it’s the life we share.

I hope that as you share love, you find your own joy growing. May you hear Jesus call you "friend" in the still moments of your day. Let your life show lasting fruit for the One who loved us enough to give His life and strong enough to rise again. Our journey goes on, but we walk it together as friends, connected by the greatest love there is. 
 

​Read: John 15:1-8  
 
          We are now four weeks into our journey with the "Echoes of the Empty Tomb," and our spiritual path is changing again. Since the start of the year, we have prepared carefully. In January, we built an "Unshakable" foundation of faith. February and March took us along "The Wilderness Road." We faced dry times of repentance, resisted temptation, let go of our past, and watched as the Resurrection turned our dead ends into new beginnings. Recently, we have moved from the surprise of the empty tomb to recognizing Jesus in our pain, along our paths, and in His voice. This week, our focus moves from the dusty road to the rich, connected life of the vineyard. Our theme is "Abiding in the Vine," from John 15:1-8, which gives us important guidance for living out the Resurrection in our daily lives.
 
          In this passage, Jesus uses the image of the vine and branches to show a relationship that goes much deeper than just following Him. It is a real, life-giving connection. After eight weeks on "The Wilderness Road," where we sometimes felt alone and just trying to get by on "Living Water," moving to the vineyard is a big change. Jesus says, "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower." By calling Himself the true vine, He gently reminds us of the "false vines" we met in the wilderness—things like self-reliance, wanting approval, and staying busy, which promised us life but left us empty. Living the Resurrection life is not about following new rules; it is about connecting to a new source of strength. The same "sap" of Resurrection life that raised Jesus is meant to flow through us, the branches.
 
          One of the hardest parts of this passage is the work of the Vine grower: pruning. Jesus says the Father "removes every branch in me that bears no fruit," and "every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit." For those of us who just went through the "Refiner's Fire" during Lent, the thought of more cutting can feel like too much. But there is an important difference. In the wilderness, we were tested to see how much we could endure. In the vineyard, we are pruned to help us grow better. Pruning is not a punishment for failing; it is a sign of our potential. The Vine grower only prunes branches that are already alive. This connects to our "Sacred Scars" from the first week—often, the places where we have been cut are where the most fruit will grow. The Father removes what is dead or distracting so that the Resurrection power is not wasted on things that do not matter.
 
          The main message of this passage is to "abide." In Greek, the word meno means to stay, to make your home, or to remain. During this Eastertide series, we have been looking at what the Resurrection means for us, and the main lesson is this: we are called to move from just visiting Jesus to living with Him. In the wilderness, we often hoped Jesus would show up to fix a problem or perform a miracle. But in the vineyard, we are asked to stay connected all the time. Just as a branch cannot grow fruit by itself, we cannot keep the joy of Easter going on our own. Abiding helps us avoid the spiritual tiredness that can come after a long journey. It is an invitation to stop trying to do things for God and instead focus on staying close to Him.
 
          Jesus is very clear about what happens if we do not abide: "Apart from me, you can do nothing." This is a hard message for a culture and a church that values being busy and productive. We want to get things done, build the church, and move toward Pentecost with lots of activity. But Jesus shifts our focus. He tells us that anything we do without Him is just "withered wood" ready for the fire. The fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience—does not come from our own effort. It grows naturally when we are connected to the Vine. If we want to see the church grow in our neighborhoods, we need to focus first on our connection to Christ, who overcame the grave.
 
          The main purpose of abiding is to be fruitful and bring glory to the Father. "My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples." As we look ahead to Pentecost, we see that the "Echoes of the Empty Tomb" are meant to show up as good things in our lives. Our "Unshakable" foundation is not just a solid base; it is meant to be the rich soil for a vineyard that can feed a hungry world. When we abide, our prayers match the heart of the Vine ("ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you"), because we are no longer asking for our own wants, but for what the Kingdom truly needs.
 
          This week, I encourage you to practice the discipline of "remaining." In a world that always tells you to branch out, try instead to branch in. Take some time to notice where you are trying to bear fruit on your own and where you might need to let the Vine grower prune you. Remember, the goal of this Eastertide season is not to work harder for the Risen Lord, but to live more deeply in Him. Whether you are at your desk, in your car, or at your kitchen table, remind yourself: "He is the Vine; I am a branch." The Resurrection power is already at work. You do not have to create it; you just need to stay connected. May you find rest in the "sap" of His grace this week, and may your life show the living echo of the tomb that could not hold the Life.