Bills are overdue. The job is getting on your last nerve. A relationship isn’t working. Life isn’t going according to plan.

Sometimes our “stuff” begins to feel like a storm—and when you’re standing in the middle of it, you wonder if the rain will ever stop.

Here’s the good news:

Storms don’t last forever.

But here’s the harder question:

What if the storm we’re experiencing is one we helped create?

That’s where we find Jonah.

God Said GO. Jonah Said NO.

Jonah was a prophet, and God gave him a difficult assignment:

Go to Nineveh.

Nineveh wasn’t exactly on Jonah’s bucket list. It was a powerful city with a reputation for wickedness, violence, and injustice.

God wanted Jonah to go there and deliver a message. Jonah heard God clearly. And then Jonah did what many of us have done.

He went in the opposite direction.

Before we criticize Jonah too quickly, how many times have we done the same thing?

Maybe God told you to forgive someone. You held onto the grudge.

Maybe God told you to leave an unhealthy relationship. You stayed.

Maybe God told you to take a step of faith. Fear convinced you to remain comfortable.

Maybe God told you to use your gift. You decided somebody else could do it.

We hear God.

We know what we should do.

And sometimes we still choose the opposite.

Running Can Create a Storm

Jonah boarded a ship headed away from Nineveh.

Then Scripture says:

“But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and such a mighty storm came upon the sea that the ship threatened to break up.”

Jonah’s decision didn’t affect only Jonah.

Everybody on the ship experienced the storm.

That’s one of the difficult truths about our choices: they rarely affect only us.

Our decisions can spill over into the lives of our families, friends, coworkers, churches, and communities.

One person’s addiction can affect an entire family.

One reckless decision behind the wheel can change several families forever.

One person’s dishonesty can destroy years of trust.

One person’s refusal to deal with their own issues can bring chaos into every relationship around them.

Sometimes we’re asking God: “Why am I going through this?”

And there are moments when we need to ask another question: “Did one of my choices help create this storm?”

That’s not about shame.

It’s about responsibility and accountability.

Because once we recognize our part in creating a storm, we can begin making different choices.

You Can Turn Around

This is where Jonah’s story becomes good news.

Jonah’s bad decision wasn’t the end of his story.

Yes, he ran.

Yes, there were consequences.

Yes, there was a storm.

Yes, he ended up in the belly of a great fish.

But God wasn’t finished with Jonah.

From inside the fish, Jonah prayed.

He began recognizing God differently.

And eventually, that fish spit Jonah onto dry land.

Then something remarkable happened.

God gave Jonah another opportunity.

Go to Nineveh.

And this time, Jonah went.

God didn’t say, “Jonah, you messed up, so I’m finished with you.”

God essentially said: Let’s try this again.

Maybe you need that reminder today.

You made the wrong decision. You ignored what you knew was right. You ran when you should have stayed. You stayed when you should have left. You said no when God was asking for your yes.

And now you’re dealing with the consequences.

Your mistake does not have to become your permanent destination.

Storms Don’t Last Forever

Some storms arrive through no fault of our own.

Others come because of choices we’ve made.

But regardless of how the storm began, God can meet us in the middle of it.

You can change direction.

You can apologize.

You can ask for help.

You can make a different decision.

You can listen again.

You can say yes to what God has been asking you to do.

Jonah came out of his storm.

So can you.

God never promised that following God’s direction would always be comfortable. But God does promise presence.

Even in the storm.

Even after the mistake.

Even when we’re trying to find our way back.

So if the waves are crashing around you today, don’t give up.

Look honestly at your choices.

Listen again for God’s voice.

And when God shows you the direction—

stop running.

Turn around.

Because no matter how fierce the storm feels today,

storms don’t last forever.

Change can bring pain, grief, uncertainty, and transition. It can leave us wondering what comes next and whether we have what it takes to face it.

That is where we find Joshua.

Moses—the leader who brought the Israelites out of Egypt—is dead. The person Joshua had followed, learned from, and served alongside was gone. Now God tells Joshua: You are the one.

Joshua probably had questions. He may have been afraid. He may have wondered whether he could lead the people without Moses.

But God’s message was clear: Be strong and courageous.

And tucked inside Joshua’s story are three reminders for us whenever change comes.

1. Transition: There Is Life After the “After”

The book of Joshua begins with a powerful word: “After.”

After the death of Moses…

Something had ended. Someone was gone. Life was different. But “after” does not mean “over.”

Scripture is filled with stories of what God did after something changed.

After Abraham left what was familiar, God led him toward a promise.

After the flood, a dove returned with an olive branch.

After Saul encountered Christ, Paul emerged with a new purpose.

After the stone was rolled away, resurrection changed everything.

We have our own “afters.”

After the job ended.

After the relationship ended.

After someone we loved died.

After the diagnosis.

After the move.

We often treat an ending as though the story has stopped. But God specializes in writing new chapters after the ones we thought we couldn’t live without.

Change isn’t always bad. Sometimes change is necessary for us to discover what God has waiting on the other side.

2. Movement: You Can’t Stay Here

God tells Joshua to “proceed” and cross the Jordan. In other words: Joshua, it’s time to move. There was certainly a time to grieve Moses. But grief could not become Joshua’s permanent address.

Psalm 23 says, “Though I walk through the valley…”

Not sit in the valley.

Not build a house in the valley.

Not pretend there isn’t a valley.

Walk through it.

There is movement involved.

Change can paralyze us because what we knew feels safer than what we don’t know. We can become so attached to yesterday that we miss what God is doing today.

But sometimes God says, PROCEED.

Take the next step.

Make the call.

Walk through the door.

Cross the Jordan.

You don’t have to know everything that’s waiting on the other side. Joshua didn’t.

You simply have to trust the One calling you forward.

And here’s the important part: If God called YOU, God called YOU.

You don’t have to be Moses.

You don’t have to be the person who came before you.

You simply have to be willing to move when God says move.

3. Presence: You Are Not Going Alone

Perhaps the greatest promise God gives Joshua is this:

“As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you.”

God didn’t promise Joshua that the journey would be easy. God promised Joshua presence.

That’s a huge difference.

Our courage doesn’t come from knowing everything will work exactly the way we want.

Our courage comes from knowing God goes with us.

Into the new job.

Into the difficult conversation.

Into the classroom.

Into the hospital.

Into the streets, stores, bars, neighborhoods, and parades.

Wherever we go, God’s presence goes with us.

Keep Moving

There will always be moments when we want things to go back to the way they used to be.

Joshua could have said, “I can’t do this without Moses.”

Instead, God essentially told him:

You don’t have Moses, but you still have Me.

Maybe that’s the word we need when change occurs in our lives. We may not have what we had before.

Things may not look the way they used to.

We may not know exactly what happens next.

But God is still present.

So when change comes:

Honor the transition.

Keep moving.

Trust God’s presence.

And when fear whispers that you can’t do what lies ahead, remember God’s words to Joshua:

Be strong and courageous.

The landscape may change.

The people may change.

The circumstances may change.

But the God who walks with us does not.

Not successful enough.

Not attractive enough.

Not spiritual enough.

Not worthy enough.

But God tells a different story.

In 1 Peter 2:9, Peter writes to believers who were scattered, discouraged, and living under persecution. They wondered if they still belonged anywhere. They questioned whether their faith mattered in a world that seemed determined to silence them.

Into that uncertainty, Peter speaks words that still echo today:

“You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people.”

Notice what Peter doesn’t say.

He doesn’t tell them they are chosen because they are perfect.

He doesn’t say they are holy because life is easy.

He doesn’t say they are royal because society recognizes their worth.

Their identity comes from God—not from the world around them.

How often do we forget that?

When life falls apart, we ask, “Why me?”

Maybe the better question is, “Why not me?”

Being chosen doesn’t exempt us from hardship. It reminds us that we never face hardship alone.

Being chosen means our identity is rooted in Christ instead of circumstances.

It means the Holy Spirit walks beside us, offering wisdom when we don’t know what to do and comfort when life hurts.

It means we are called to keep moving forward instead of living in yesterday’s failures. God cannot lead us into tomorrow if we are permanently looking over our shoulder.

It also means we choose a different way of seeing people.

The world labels.

God welcomes.

The world judges.

God restores.

The world asks whether someone belongs.

God says, “They already do.”

Perhaps that’s one of the greatest signs of spiritual maturity—not simply believing we are chosen, but believing others are too.

The truth is, every one of us has moments when we feel like a nobody.

We doubt our value.

We question our purpose.

We wonder whether anyone sees us.

The Gospel answers every one of those questions.

Jesus does.

When He stretched out His arms on the cross, He declared your worth.

When the stone was rolled away, He declared your future.

When He conquered death, He reminded the world that no label, no failure, and no rejection gets the final word.

The final word belongs to God.

And God’s word over your life is this:

You are chosen.

You are loved.

You are holy.

You are royalty.

You are somebody.

So walk into every day remembering who you are—not because the world says so, but because the One who created you has already spoken.

Jesus gave him a way of life.

When Peter asked, “How many times should I forgive? Seven times?” he probably thought he was being generous. The religious teachers of his day often taught forgiving someone three times was enough. Peter doubled it and added one.

But Jesus wasn’t interested in arithmetic.

He was interested in freedom.

Forgiveness isn’t about keeping score. It’s about refusing to let bitterness keep score for you.

As I prepared this sermon, something unexpected happened. While searching for a book, I came across my mother’s funeral program. Instantly, I was taken back to a complicated relationship that shaped much of my early life.

Growing up, my mother and I struggled. After my father died, the distance between us grew even greater. A year after 9/11, I finally wrote her a letter. In it, I explained the pain I had carried for years, but I also told her something I never imagined I could say:

“I forgive you.”

That letter changed me.

Not because it changed my mother, but because it changed my heart.

When she died in 2004, I grieved—but I also experienced peace. The forgiveness I had extended before her death became a gift I carried long after she was gone.

That’s the miracle of forgiveness.

It doesn’t erase the past. It doesn’t excuse abuse, betrayal, or injustice. It doesn’t require us to forget what happened.

Forgiveness simply releases another person’s grip on our hearts.

As long as I carried resentment, I was the one imprisoned. The moment I forgave, the prison door opened—not for her, but for me.

The late Henri Nouwen once wrote that forgiveness is the way we free ourselves from becoming victims forever. Those words remind us that forgiveness is not weakness. It is one of the strongest acts of faith we can choose.

Think about the wounds people carry today. Broken families. Childhood trauma. Betrayal by friends. The unimaginable grief of tragedies like 9/11. None of these are easy to forgive.

Yet Jesus still invites us to forgive—not because the pain wasn’t real, but because God desires our healing.

If there’s someone you’ve struggled to forgive, try a simple spiritual practice.

Write their name on a piece of paper. Place it in an envelope. For the next thirty days, pray over that envelope. Your prayer can be as simple as, “God, help me forgive.”

Don’t focus on changing them.

Watch how God changes you.

And if you remember nothing else, remember this:

You are forgiven.

Not because you’ve done everything right.

Not because you’ve perfectly forgiven everyone else.

But because on a cross, over two thousand years ago, Jesus stretched out His arms and declared God’s limitless love for the world.

Forgiveness isn’t about counting the number of times.

It’s about living in the freedom that Christ has already given us.

The story of Jesus’ transfiguration in Matthew 17 is one of those moments.

Just before Jesus begins His final journey toward the cross, He takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain. There, before their eyes, His appearance changes. Moses and Elijah appear beside Him, representing the Law and the Prophets. The message is unmistakable: everything God had promised was being fulfilled in Christ.

Years later, standing on what is believed to be the Mount of Transfiguration, I experienced that story in an entirely new way.

The mountain today is very different than it was in Jesus’ time. A beautiful church now stands where there were once only rocks and hillsides. The landscape itself has been transformed. As I looked across the valley, I felt God whisper into my spirit, “It’s going to be alright. I’ve got you. I’ve never left you.” Tears came before I even realized they were falling.

When I returned to the biblical text, I read it with transformed eyes.

The word transfiguration means a change in appearance—a spiritual transformation. The word metamorphosis speaks of a supernatural change. What if that’s exactly what God has been doing all along?

God transforms addiction into freedom.

God transforms fear into courage.

God transforms people who believe they are nobodies into beloved children with purpose.

But transformation doesn’t happen by accident.

Peter’s first instinct was to look around. Seeing Moses and Elijah, he immediately wanted to build monuments. Yet God’s voice redirected everyone’s attention back to Jesus.

The lesson is simple: Transformation can’t happen when we’re constantly looking around at everyone else.

Then the disciples fell to the ground in fear.

Transformation can’t happen when we’re only looking down at our failures, fears, or disappointments.

Finally, they looked up.

“And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.”

That’s where transformation begins.

When our eyes are fixed on Christ instead of our circumstances.

When we stop comparing ourselves to others.

When we trust God’s presence more than our fears.

The disciples walked down that mountain forever changed because they had encountered Jesus in a deeper way.

The same invitation is before us today.

No matter where you’ve been or what you’ve carried, God is still in the transformation business. There are still lives waiting to be changed, hearts waiting to be healed, and people waiting to discover they are already loved by God exactly as they are.

The question isn’t whether God still transforms people.

The question is this:

Have you been transformed? And if you have, who is waiting for you to help them discover that same life-changing hope?

Jesus’ baptism in Matthew 3 is one of those moments.

Unlike the other Gospel accounts, Matthew gives us a conversation between Jesus and John the Baptist. John hesitates. Why would the sinless Son of God need to be baptized? But Jesus responds with simple, powerful words: “Let it be so now.” (Matthew 3:15)

Those words aren’t just about Jesus’ baptism. They speak to every season of transition we face.

Sometimes the greatest obstacle to a new beginning isn’t a lack of opportunity—it’s our reluctance to move.

John couldn’t have known that his simple act of obedience would mark the public beginning of Jesus’ ministry. He had no way of knowing that history was about to turn because he said yes.

How often is that true for us?

We may never know the impact of inviting someone to church, offering a hug, making a phone call, or speaking a word of encouragement. A single act of obedience may become the turning point in someone else’s story.

Jesus reminds us of three truths about embracing change.

First, some things must be done now.

We often wait for the perfect moment, but faith rarely works that way. God calls us to take the next step before we see the entire path. Whether it’s forgiving someone, ending an unhealthy habit, beginning a new ministry, or simply trusting God again, delayed obedience often delays the blessings waiting on the other side.

Second, God works through order.

Jesus didn’t skip the baptism because He was above it. He honored God’s timing and God’s process. Sometimes we’re eager for the destination while resisting the preparation. Yet God often uses the ordinary steps of obedience to prepare us for extraordinary purposes.

Finally, new life requires leaving the old behind.

Baptism symbolizes dying to what was and rising into what God is creating. The Apostle Paul reminds us, “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

That invitation still stands today.

Every day offers an opportunity to begin again. Every act of surrender makes room for resurrection. Every faithful “yes” opens the door to God’s next chapter.

Perhaps today God is asking you to travel a different road.

Not because your past defines you, but because your future is still unfolding.

The question isn’t whether change is coming.

The question is whether you’ll step into the water and trust the One who is calling you forward.

We light candles. We hang the greens. We shop for gifts. We make plans with family and friends. We listen to Silent Night, Jingle Bells, and—if you are anything like me—maybe even Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.

We are preparing for December 25.

But Advent asks us a deeper question:

While we are getting ready for Christmas, are we awake enough to notice Christ?

It is possible to be busy preparing for the celebration of Jesus and completely miss the presence of Jesus.

Life Can Change Without Warning

Jesus reminds his followers that no one knows the day or the hour.

The people in Noah’s time were simply living their lives. They were eating, drinking, working, and making plans. Noah warned them, but they didn’t listen. The ark was being built right in front of them, but they didn’t see what was happening.

Isn’t that sometimes true of us?

We hear God—but don’t listen.

We see God moving—but don’t pay attention.

We feel God calling us—but keep putting off our response.

Sometimes we become so distracted by what is happening around us that we fail to notice what God is doing within us.

Advent says: Wake up. Pay attention. God is moving.

Christ Shows Up in Ordinary Places

One of the most powerful parts of Jesus’ teaching is that life will be happening as usual.

People will be working.

Someone will be cooking dinner.

Someone will be driving home.

Someone will be sitting in a hospital waiting room.

Someone will be grieving.

Someone will be laughing with friends.

Someone will be having a perfectly ordinary Tuesday.

And Christ will show up.

We often expect God to appear in dramatic moments—with thunder, lightning, and a choir singing in the background.

But what if Christ shows up in the person who calls you at exactly the right moment?

What if Christ shows up in the stranger who needs your kindness?

What if Christ shows up in a quiet moment when you suddenly realize that, somehow, you are going to be okay?

What if Christ shows up in the courage you didn’t know you had?

Christ can show up in chaos.

Christ can show up in confusion.

Christ can show up in grief.

Christ can show up in joy.

And yes, Christ can show up in the middle of an ordinary day.

The question is: Will we be awake enough to notice?

Don’t Get So Busy Doing Ministry That You Miss God

There is another kind of sleepiness that can affect those of us who serve in churches.

We can become busy doing things for God while neglecting our relationship with God.

We attend meetings.

Plan worship.

Feed people.

Answer emails.

Prepare sermons.

Organize events.

Solve problems.

And before we realize it, our calendars are full—but our spirits are empty.

We cannot allow the business of ministry to get in the way of our business with God.

Advent invites us to slow down enough to pay attention.

To listen.

To pray.

To notice.

To watch for the places where Christ is already showing up.

Stay Awake

Advent is not simply a countdown to Christmas.

It is an invitation to hope.

An invitation to peace.

An invitation to joy.

An invitation to new beginnings.

Perhaps Christ is already showing up in your life in a way you haven’t noticed.

Perhaps God is speaking through a person you overlooked.

Perhaps a new beginning is quietly taking shape while you are waiting for something dramatic to happen.

So, during this Advent season, enjoy the lights. Sing the songs. Give the gifts. Celebrate with the people you love.

But don’t become so distracted by Christmas that you miss Christ.

Stay awake.

Be watchful.

Pay attention.

Because Christ has a way of showing up when—and where—we least expect it.

(Message can be applied to anytime of the year. Not just during Advent Season)

As children, many of us couldn’t wait to grow up. We imagined freedom—staying up late, making our own decisions, eating whatever we wanted, and answering to nobody.

Then adulthood arrived with bills, responsibilities, difficult decisions, and the discovery that someone has to decide what’s for dinner every single night.

Suddenly, childhood doesn’t look so bad.

The same can be true of our spiritual lives. We want the blessings of following Jesus, but sometimes we resist the growth that following Jesus requires.

Paul writes about the need to “grow up in every way” into Christ. Spiritual maturity doesn’t happen automatically. It requires us to examine our priorities, motivations, and the things we have allowed to define us.

When Our Stuff Owns Us

We live in a culture that constantly tells us we need more.

A newer phone. A better car. A bigger house. Another gadget. The next thing that will finally make us happy.

But the problem with looking for happiness in possessions is that there will always be something else to buy.

Jesus warned that life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.

Growing up in Christ means learning the difference between having things and being owned by things.

There is nothing wrong with enjoying what we have. The question is whether our possessions serve us—or whether we spend our lives serving them.

At the end of our lives, the most important question will not be, What did you own?

It will be, Whose life was changed because you were here?

When We Need Everybody’s Approval

Most of us enjoy being appreciated.

We like being thanked. We like being noticed. We like knowing that our work matters.

There is nothing wrong with appreciation. The problem begins when we need recognition in order to keep doing what is right.

Spiritual maturity teaches us that sometimes the right thing will not be the popular thing.

You may not be thanked.

You may not be recognized.

Someone may forget what you did for them last week.

Do it anyway.

Growing up in Christ means becoming less concerned with applause and more concerned with faithfulness. It means remembering whose we are, even when people misunderstand us, challenge us, or try to pull us back into unnecessary drama.

When Our Position Becomes Our Identity

Our jobs can easily become our identity.

We work longer hours because we want to feel needed. We carry work home mentally, emotionally, and sometimes physically. We convince ourselves that everything will fall apart if we aren’t there.

But here is the uncomfortable truth: the organization existed before us, and it will continue after us.

Our work matters, but our job title is not our identity.

Growing up in Christ means putting our position in perspective. We can work hard, pursue excellence, and celebrate success without allowing our careers to become our gods.

Our deepest identity is not found on a business card, behind a desk, or in a title.

Our identity is found in God.

A Grown-Up Church

What is true for individuals is also true for the church.

A church can become obsessed with possessions—buildings, equipment, appearances—and forget that ministry is about people.

A church can become obsessed with popularity—trying to become the church everybody likes—rather than becoming the church God has called it to be.

A church can become obsessed with position—status, influence, and recognition—rather than serving those who need hope.

Our calling is not simply to build impressive churches.

Our calling is to participate in building God’s Kingdom.

There is a difference.

The church is only as spiritually mature as the people who make up the church. As we grow in compassion, generosity, faithfulness, service, and love, our churches grow too.

Growing up isn’t always comfortable.

It requires change.

It requires examining our priorities.

It requires releasing some things we have outgrown.

But perhaps the question for us is simple:

What needs to grow up in me so that I can become more like Christ?

Because growing older happens automatically.

Growing up in Christ is a choice.

“Battery Low.”

If you know me, you know I like having music with me wherever I go. So this was disappointing.

The problem wasn’t that the iPod was broken. It simply needed power.

Unfortunately, the power source wasn’t in my car. I had to wait until I got back to my laptop, plug it in, and let it recharge.

As I drove, something felt missing. The music that normally accompanied me wasn’t there. There was a void.

That experience got me thinking about our spiritual lives.

How many of us are running on low battery?

Life has a way of draining us. Work. Family responsibilities. Financial pressures. Grief. Disappointment. Anxiety. The endless demands placed on our time and energy.

Eventually, we find ourselves exhausted.

And when that happens, where do we go for power?

Many of us look for ways to recharge.

Some turn to unhealthy habits. Some look for comfort in things that offer temporary relief. Others spend hours scrolling online, chasing distractions, or seeking validation from people and places that can never truly satisfy.

The reality is that most of these things may provide a momentary boost, but they don’t last.

The high fades.

The distraction ends.

The battery runs low again.

Jesus offers something different.

In John 3:16 we are reminded of God’s incredible love for the world—a love so great that God gave God’s Son so that all who believe might experience life.

Not just life someday.

Life now.

A life connected to the true source of power.

When we stay connected to Christ through prayer, worship, Scripture, community, and trust, we discover a strength that doesn’t depend on our circumstances.

The challenges may still come.

The struggles may still be real.

But we are no longer trying to run on our own limited power.

We are connected to the One who renews us.

The truth is that every one of us will experience moments when our batteries run low.

The question is not whether we will need to recharge.

The question is where we will plug in.

When life leaves you weary, overwhelmed, or empty, remember that God’s love remains available.

The same God who loved the world enough to send Jesus still offers grace, hope, and renewal today.

So if you’re running on low battery, don’t keep trying to push through alone.

Reconnect to the source.

Recharge your spirit.

And allow God’s love to power you for whatever comes next.

Not angry at God.

Not even disconnected from God.

Just tired.

Exhausted.

Running on empty.

The image of the Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37 speaks directly to those moments.

When Ezekiel arrives in the valley, he doesn’t find people who are struggling. He finds bones. Dry bones. Bones that have been disconnected from life for a very long time.

It is a powerful reminder that there are seasons when we can feel lifeless. We go through the motions. We show up. We do what needs to be done. Yet inside, something feels depleted.

The people of Israel knew that feeling. Their nation had been devastated. Their future seemed lost. Their hope had dried up.

And then God asks a surprising question:

“Can these bones live?”

From a human perspective, the answer seems obvious. Of course not.

But God specializes in bringing life where others see only endings.

God tells Ezekiel to speak to the bones. As he does, they begin to come together. Bone to bone. Tendons appear. Flesh forms. Yet there is still something missing.

Breath.

Only when God’s breath enters them do they truly live.

The same is true for us.

Programs cannot sustain us.

Success cannot sustain us.

Even religious activity alone cannot sustain us.

What we need is the breath of God.

The Hebrew word used here is ruach—a word that can mean breath, wind, or Spirit.

It is the same Spirit that hovered over creation.

The same Spirit that filled the disciples at Pentecost.

The same Spirit that continues to move among God’s people today.

Maybe you’re standing in your own valley right now.

Maybe your hope feels dry.

Maybe your faith feels tired.

Maybe your dreams seem distant.

The good news of Ezekiel 37 is that God has not abandoned the valley.

God enters it.

God speaks into it.

And God breathes life into it.

No matter how dry things seem, God is still in the business of restoration.

The Spirit that revived the bones is still moving today.

So perhaps our prayer should be simple:

“God, breathe on us again.”

Breathe on our churches.

Breathe on our relationships.

Breathe on our communities.

Breathe on our weary hearts.

And remind us that what appears dead is never beyond the reach of Your Spirit.

You turn on the news and see violence, division, hatred, and heartbreak. Children are afraid in schools. Families are struggling to survive. People are battling depression, addiction, grief, and exhaustion in silence. Bills pile up while hope seems to disappear. And somewhere in the middle of it all, many of us quietly ask:

What is there left to be encouraged about?

Psalm 43 speaks directly into moments like these.

The writer begins with pain, frustration, and a desperate cry for deliverance. They feel overwhelmed by enemies, weighed down by life, and emotionally exhausted. Yet by the end of the psalm, something shifts. The circumstances may not have changed yet, but the writer begins speaking hope back into their own spirit.

That matters.

Because sometimes encouragement does not begin with everything getting better overnight. Sometimes encouragement begins when we remind ourselves that God is still present even in the middle of the storm.

The psalmist asks an honest question:

“Why are you cast down, O my soul?”

In other words:
Why am I so discouraged?
Why do I feel defeated?
Why do I feel alone?

Those are real questions. Faith does not require us to pretend everything is okay. Scripture is filled with people who cried, doubted, struggled, and wondered where God was. But the beauty of this Psalm is that the writer refuses to stay trapped in despair.

Instead, they remember this truth:

“God is my refuge.”

That means God becomes the safe place when life feels unsafe. God becomes the steady presence when everything else feels uncertain. God becomes light in seasons where we can barely see our way forward.

And maybe that is the word many of us need today.

You may be walking through grief right now.
You may be carrying disappointment that nobody else understands.
You may feel stuck in a wilderness season where nothing seems clear.

But wilderness is not the end of the story.

The psalmist reminds us that God’s light still leads people through dark places.

Just like God parted the sea for Moses.
Just like God found Elijah in exhaustion.
Just like God reminded Hagar she was not abandoned.

God still shows up for weary people.

That does not mean life suddenly becomes easy. The Psalm reminds us that there will still be painful moments. There will still be days when we want to quit, days when we feel angry, hurt, or exhausted.

But even then, we are not alone.

One of the most powerful truths in this message is the reminder that sometimes we have to encourage ourselves.

Not with toxic positivity.
Not by denying reality.
But by remembering that our current situation is not our final destination.

“This too shall pass.”

Those words are not denial; they are survival. They are faith speaking louder than fear.

And perhaps that is what Lent, transition, grief, and growth all have in common: they teach us how to keep walking even when the road is hard.

The good news is that God has never abandoned people in transition. In fact, Scripture is filled with stories of people who discovered God most clearly while moving through uncertainty.

So if your spirit feels tired today, hear this clearly:

You will feel joy again.
You will laugh again.
You will breathe deeply again.
You will make it through this season.

And until then, keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Because God is still your refuge.
God is still your light.
And you are never walking alone.

Energy. Hope. Joy. Peace. Confidence.

Maybe it’s grief that won’t let go.
Maybe it’s rejection that keeps replaying in your mind.
Maybe it’s shame, loneliness, anxiety, heartbreak, or exhaustion from trying to hold everything together.

You keep showing up.
Keep smiling.
Keep functioning.

But deep inside, you know something is still bleeding.

In Mark’s Gospel, we meet a woman who understood that kind of pain all too well.

For twelve long years she suffered from a condition that isolated her from society. She had spent everything she had on doctors who could not heal her. The very systems that were supposed to help her had only left her poorer, weaker, and more alone.

And because of the religious and social rules of the day, she was labeled “unclean.”

That meant no community.
No touch.
No worship life.
No belonging.

Can you imagine carrying that kind of loneliness for twelve years?

Many of us can relate more than we want to admit.

There are people today who know what it feels like to be pushed aside because of who they are, what they struggle with, or what labels society has placed on them. There are people who have learned how to survive while secretly bleeding inside.

But something changed in this woman.

At some point, she made a decision:
I cannot keep living like this.

She decided to stop the bleeding.

Not because she suddenly became stronger.
Not because life suddenly became easier.
But because she believed Jesus could do what nobody else could.

The story says she told herself, “If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.”

That is extraordinary faith.

She didn’t need a spotlight.
She didn’t need recognition.
She didn’t even think she needed Jesus to stop and speak to her.

She simply believed that the power of God was close enough to change her life.

So she pushed through the crowd.

Through judgment.
Through rejection.
Through fear.
Through every voice that tried to keep her away.

And the moment she touched Jesus, everything changed.

The bleeding stopped.

That’s the good news for us today: transformation can happen in a moment.

Not because we are perfect.
Not because we have all the answers.
But because grace still has power.

Sometimes we spend years trying to heal ourselves through achievement, distraction, approval, relationships, or pretending we are okay. But eventually we reach the same realization this woman did: some healing only comes when we reach for Jesus.

And once healing begins, we are called to do something else — help others heal too.

The woman who once hid in shame became someone with a testimony. Her life became evidence that restoration was possible.

That is what discipleship looks like.

People who have survived pain helping others survive theirs.
People who have found peace becoming peace for someone else.
People who know what it means to bleed becoming safe places for healing.

The truth is, somebody is waiting on the other side of your healing.

Your story may become the reason someone else keeps going.

So maybe the question this week is simple:

What in your life is still bleeding?

And what would happen if you finally decided to reach for healing?

Because Jesus still meets people in crowds.
Still responds to faith.
Still restores the rejected.
Still brings peace to wounded hearts.

And maybe today is the day the bleeding stops.

Not out of judgment—but out of love.
Not to tear down—but to restore.

That’s where we find Jesus in John 2.

He walks into the temple during Passover—a sacred time meant for remembrance, gratitude, and worship. A space meant to center people back on God.

But instead of sacredness, he finds distraction.
Instead of worship, he finds transactions.
Instead of reverence, he finds noise.

Tables filled with money.
Animals being sold.
A holy place turned into something…else.

And Jesus responds.

Not quietly.
Not passively.
But with purpose.

Because sometimes love looks like disruption.

It’s easy to focus on what Jesus did—overturning tables, driving people out.

But the deeper question is why.

Why did this matter so much?

Because the people had lost the point.

They had forgotten what the space was for.
They had allowed something sacred to become ordinary… even commercial.

And Jesus steps in to say:
Let the church be the church.

If we’re honest, that question isn’t just for them—it’s for us.

What happens when we lose focus?

When the noise of life drowns out the voice of God?
When church becomes routine instead of renewal?
When we start centering everything except the presence of God?

We may not have livestock in the aisles—but we carry distractions of our own.

Stress.
Bills.
Conflict.
Exhaustion.
Expectations.

We come in hoping for something deeper— a word, a breath, a moment of peace.

Because we need it.

First, we’re reminded to keep the main thing the main thing.

People don’t come to church to hear about problems—they come to encounter God.

They come looking for hope when life feels heavy.
For strength when they’re stretched thin.
For direction when they feel lost.

The church is meant to be a place where souls are fed.

Not a performance.
Not a transaction.
But transformation.

Second, when Jesus enters, things change.

Nothing stays the same.

He clears out what doesn’t belong— not just in the temple, but in us.

The lies we carry:
“You’re not enough.”
“You’re unworthy.”
“You’ll never change.”

Jesus overturns those, too.

And in their place, he plants truth:

You are worthy.
You are loved.
You are capable of more than you think.

Life around you might not change overnight— but you do.

You respond differently.
You see differently.
You live differently.

Because once Jesus enters, it’s no longer business as usual.

Finally, we remember: this is God’s house.

Not just a building—but a sacred space.

And not just a space—but a people.

A community called to reflect something bigger than ourselves.

That means showing up with intention.
With care.
With reverence.

It means asking:
How do I contribute to what God is building here?

Not out of obligation—
but out of love.

Because here’s the truth:

Jesus cares.

Jesus cared enough to confront what was broken.
Enough to restore what was lost.
Enough to give everything for love.

And if Jesus cares that deeply about the church—
the question becomes:

Do we?

What would it look like for you to let the church be the church in your life?

To protect what is sacred.
To center what matters.
To create space for God to move—not just here, but everywhere you go.

Because the church isn’t just where you sit on Sunday.

It’s who you are every day.

And when we live like that—
with clarity, courage, and care—

we don’t just go to church.

We become it.

Maybe it’s something no one else knows. Maybe it’s something everyone knows. Either way, it lingers. It whispers: You’ve gone too far this time.

We tell ourselves stories:
God can’t love me because I struggle with addiction.
God can’t love me because I’ve failed, lied, hurt someone, or even myself.
God can’t love me because I knew better—and did it anyway.

But here’s the truth we often forget:
God is not just loving—God is forgiving.

And not reluctantly. Not conditionally. But fully, deeply, and repeatedly.

In today’s story, we find Peter—one of Jesus’ closest friends—standing in that very tension.

This is the same Peter who boldly declared loyalty… and then denied even knowing Jesus. Not once. Not twice. But three times.

And now, after the resurrection, Peter finds himself face-to-face with Jesus again.

The disciples had gone fishing and caught nothing. Then Jesus appears on the shore and tells them to cast their nets on the other side. Suddenly, abundance. Recognition. Hope.

Peter doesn’t wait—he jumps into the water and rushes toward Jesus.

Because when you know you’ve messed up… but still long for love… you run toward grace.

Then comes breakfast.
Simple. Ordinary. Holy.

And in that quiet moment, Jesus begins to restore Peter.

Not with shame. Not with punishment. But with a question:

“Do you love me?”

Three times, Jesus asks.
Three times, Peter answers yes.

This isn’t coincidence—it’s redemption.

For every denial, there is now a declaration.
For every failure, an opportunity to begin again.

But Jesus doesn’t stop at words.

Each time Peter says “yes,” Jesus responds with action:

“Feed my lambs.”
“Tend my sheep.”
“Feed my sheep.”

In other words:
If you love me—show it.

Love is not just something we say.
Love is something we do.

And here’s where the story turns toward us.

Because most of us aren’t standing on a shoreline with Jesus—but we are living lives filled with people who need care, compassion, and presence.

We all have a “flock.”

It might be your coworkers.
Your family.
Your church.
Your community.
Even the stranger you encounter in traffic.

Yes—even that person.

So what do we learn?

First: God will always give you another chance. Peter failed publicly—and was restored personally. If God can use Peter, God can use you.

Second: Love requires action. “Feed” and “tend” aren’t suggestions—they’re invitations. We are called to nourish and care for others, wherever we are.

Third: When love becomes action, everything changes. You begin to see people differently. You respond differently. You live differently.

That person who cuts you off in traffic? Instead of frustration, what if you offered a prayer?

Because God hears your words anyway—so why not make them life-giving?

Here’s the good news:

Your past does not disqualify you.
Your mistakes do not define you.
And your worst moment is not your final chapter.

Because the same Jesus who restored Peter
is still asking today:

“Do you love me?”

And if your answer is yes—
then go.

Feed.
Tend.
Love.

Even now.

It’s a simple question—but it carries weight:

Not the rent for your house.
Not your mortgage.

But your spiritual rent.

A Wake-Up Call

In Isaiah, King Hezekiah receives devastating news:

Get your house in order…
because you are about to die.

No warning.
No delay.
No time to prepare later.

Just…now.

And if we’re honest, that kind of moment forces a question:

Is my house in order?

The House We Overlook

We spend so much time taking care of where we live:

• Paying bills

• Cleaning spaces

• Maintaining appearances

But what about the house we live in?

Our bodies.
Our minds.
Our spirits.

Are we caring for those the same way?

Are we tending to:

• Our physical health?

• Our emotional well-being?

• Our spiritual connection?

Because the truth is…

We are stewards of what God has given us.

When the Notice Comes

Hezekiah is told to prepare.

It’s like being told:

“Start packing—you’re about to be evicted.”

And what does he do?

He doesn’t panic.

He doesn’t run.

He turns…to God.

He prays.
He cries out.
He reminds God of his faithfulness.

The Power of Faithfulness

Hezekiah didn’t claim perfection.

He pointed to consistency.

A life lived with intention.
A heart that stayed aligned with God.

And something incredible happens:

God hears him.
God responds.
God extends his life.

What This Means for Us

There are three truths we can’t ignore:

1. God holds the lease

Life is not guaranteed. Time is not promised.

2. Faithfulness matters

Not just sometimes—but daily.

3. God still listens

Your prayers are not wasted. They are heard.

So What Is the Rent?

In the natural world, rent is money.

But in the spiritual world?

The rent is your praise.

Not occasional.
Not when it’s convenient.

But continual.

Final Reflection

So I’ll ask you again:

Is your house in order?
Is your rent paid up?

Because one day, we will all have to answer.

And the goal isn’t perfection.

It’s a life that stays connected to God—daily, consistently, faithfully.

Closing Thought

No matter what’s happening in your life right now—

Praise anyway.
Trust anyway.
Stay connected anyway.

Because when your house is in order…

you’ll always be ready.

The book of James is filled with them—practical, direct, and sometimes uncomfortable. It doesn’t just tell us what to believe. It shows us how to live.

And in the middle of all that wisdom comes a simple equation:

1 + 1 = 1

Not mathematically…
but spiritually.

Step One: Submit to God

This sounds simple—until we try to do it.

To submit means to surrender.
To let go of control.
To trust God’s will over our own.

And if we’re honest, that’s hard.

Because life happens:

• Bills pile up

• Relationships strain

• Fear creeps in

And in those moments, submission feels less like faith… and more like risk.

But James reminds us that real strength isn’t found in control—it’s found in surrender.

Step Two: Resist the Devil

Now here’s where we often get it twisted.

We blame the devil for everything.

But sometimes… it’s us.

Our choices.
Our desires.
Our willingness to do what we want now and deal with it later.

James calls us to something higher:

RESIST.

Not after the fact.
Not once the damage is done.

But in the moment.

Before the decision.
Before the action.

Because when we resist, something shifts.

What once had power over us…loses its grip.

The Result: Draw Near to God

Here’s where the equation comes together.

When we:

• Submit to God

• Resist what pulls us away

We gain the strength to draw near.

And when we draw near to God…

God draws near to us.

Why This Matters Right Now

Because life is heavy.

The world is loud.
The pressures are real.
And it’s easy to rely on ourselves.

But James reminds us:

We were never meant to do life alone.

There is a presence…
A power…
A peace…

Waiting for us to come closer.

The Truth We Often Miss

God isn’t far away.

God isn’t waiting to punish.

God is waiting for us to come closer.

To trust.
To surrender.
To choose differently.

Final Thought

When we submit…
When we resist…

It leads to one powerful outcome:

Closeness with God.

That’s the equation.

1 + 1 = 1

Not about us.
Not about perfection.

But about a God
who draws near
every single time we do.

There are moments in life when we feel caught in the middle.

Moments when we don’t know what to do.
Moments when the pressure feels overwhelming.
Moments when the chaos around us makes us question everything.

Maybe it’s something personal.
Maybe it’s something happening in the world.
Maybe it’s something happening in your mind.

And in those moments, the question rises:

“What can I do?”

The truth is—you are not as powerless as you feel.

The Battle You Can’t See

In Ephesians 6, we are reminded of something critical:

The real battle is not what we see.

It’s not your boss.
It’s not your family.
It’s not the people around you.

The real struggle is spiritual.

And too often, we spend our energy fighting the wrong battles— arguing with people instead of standing against what’s trying to break us down internally.

Fear.
Doubt.
Shame.
Temptation.

Those are the real enemies.

You Already Have Power

Before anything else, you need to know this:

You already have what you need.

Your strength doesn’t come from you.
It comes from God.

That means you don’t walk into life’s battles alone.
You don’t fight with limited resources.
You don’t have to rely on your own strength.

You are already equipped.

You Are Covered

Paul describes the armor of God not as something optional—but essential.

Each piece matters.

• Truth keeps you grounded when lies try to confuse you

• Righteousness protects your heart and your integrity

• Peace prepares you to go wherever you are needed

• Faith shields you from attacks coming from every direction

• Salvation guards your mind against doubt and negativity

• The Word gives you something to stand on when everything else feels shaky

You are not walking through life exposed.

You are covered.

Prayer Changes Everything

Even with all the armor, there is one thing that holds it all together:

Prayer.

Prayer is not a last resort.
It is your lifeline.

When you feel like giving up—pray.
When you feel overwhelmed—pray.
When you don’t know what to do—pray.

Prayer keeps you connected to the One who is fighting for you.

Stay Ready

Life doesn’t send you a warning before the battle comes.

That’s why you have to stay ready.

Stay alert.
Stay grounded.
Stay connected.

Because the moment you let your guard down is often when the struggle intensifies.

But when you remain rooted in God—
when you stay aware—
when you stay prayerful—

Nothing can catch you off guard.

You Are Armed and Dangerous

Here’s the truth you may not have realized:

You are not weak.

You are not defenseless.
You are not unprepared.

You are armed with truth.
You are covered by God.
You are strengthened by faith.

And because of that—

You are dangerous to anything that tries to defeat you.

Closing Reflection

The same power that raised Jesus from the dead…

Is the same power at work in you.

So the next time life tries to overwhelm you, remember:

You are not fighting alone.
You are not fighting empty.
You are not fighting unprotected.

You are armed.
You are covered.
You are ready.

So the question is:

Are you living like it?

Who—or what—is first?

We don’t always say it out loud.
But the answer shows up anyway.

It shows up in how we spend our time.
It shows up in how we spend our money.
It shows up in what we prioritize when life gets busy.

And if we’re honest… we don’t need a deep spiritual audit to figure it out.

Just look at your calendar.
Look at your bank statement.

They will tell the truth.

The Challenge of Jesus’ Words

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says something that sounds almost like a riddle:

“Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

In a world built on instant gratification, this feels backwards.

We want things now.
We want comfort now.
We want control now.

But Jesus invites us into something deeper:

A life where God comes first.

Not second.
Not when it’s convenient.
Not after everything else is handled.

First.

What It Means to Put God First

Putting God first is more than a statement—it’s a posture.

It’s saying: “My life is in your hands, God. Use me as you see fit.”

And that kind of surrender reshapes everything.

1. A Fruitful Life

When God is first, our lives begin to bear fruit.

Not always in ways we expect—
not always financially—
but in ways that matter.

Peace.
Joy.
Clarity.
Purpose.

There’s a difference between having everything…
and having your life blessed.

2. Recognizing Your Ability

Every single one of us has been given something.

A gift.
A skill.
A voice.
A presence.

The question isn’t if you have something to offer.

The question is: Are you using what God has already given you?

Or are you holding back?

3. An Internal Decision

Before anything changes externally, something shifts internally.

Stewardship—faithfulness—discipleship… it all begins on the inside.

It’s the quiet decisions no one sees:

• Choosing generosity

• Choosing faith

• Choosing to show up

Before it ever becomes visible, it becomes personal.

4. Trusting God Fully

Putting God first requires trust.

Real trust.

The kind that says:

“I don’t know how this will work out… but I believe You do.”

Trust shows up when we give.
When we serve.
When we step out in faith.

It’s not about having all the answers.

It’s about believing God will handle what we cannot.

5. Building a New Habit

What we do consistently shapes who we become.

Faith is not just a moment—it’s a pattern.

Small choices become actions.
Actions become habits.
Habits become character.

And over time, those habits shape our destiny.

So the question becomes:

What are you practicing daily?

Fear…or faith?
Control…or surrender?
Self…or God?

So…Who’s On First?

At the end of the day, this isn’t a complicated question.

It’s a revealing one.

Because whatever is first in your life… leads your life.

And Jesus invites us into a different way:

A life where faith comes first.
A life where God is not an afterthought.
A life where trust replaces fear.

Because when God is first—

everything else finds its place.

Closing Reflection

Take a moment this week and ask yourself honestly:

• What got most of my time?

• What got most of my energy?

• What got my first, not my leftovers?

And then gently ask:

Is that where I want my life to be led?

Because the invitation still stands:

Put God first.
Trust deeply.
Live fully.

Here is a man who lived in the wilderness.
Didn’t look the part.
Didn’t fit the image.

And yet…
God used him anyway.

John is standing face-to-face with Jesus…
and instead of stepping into the moment—
he resists.

And if we’re honest…so do we.

1) Sometimes we feel “less than”

John tried to stop Jesus.

Not because he didn’t believe—
but because he didn’t feel worthy.

And haven’t we been there?

Asked to do something…
and immediately thinking,
“Not me.”

“I’m not ready.”
“I’m not qualified.”
“I’m not enough.”

But here’s the truth:

God doesn’t call you because you’re ready.
God calls you because you’re chosen.

2) Sometimes we try to shift the focus

John says, “I need to be baptized by you.”

In other words—
“Jesus, you’ve got the wrong person.”

And how often do we do the same?

We look around thinking,
“Surely God means someone else.”

We pass the opportunity.
We deflect the calling.

But God doesn’t make mistakes.

If God called you—
it’s because you are the one for the assignment.

3) Sometimes we focus on the outside

John looked at himself—
his appearance, his lifestyle, his limitations—

and thought,
“There’s no way I’m the one.”

But God doesn’t see what we see.

God doesn’t look at resumes.
God doesn’t look at appearances.

God looks at the heart.

And maybe that’s the word for us today:

Stop disqualifying yourself based on what you see in the mirror.

Because God is looking at something deeper.

Closing Thought

We are all John.

We feel unworthy.
We try to pass the responsibility.
We judge ourselves—and others—on the outside.

But still…

God calls us.
God uses us.
God trusts us.

So, when God calls your name—
don’t shrink back.

Step forward.

Because the same God who called John is calling you.

And God already knows you are enough.

Amen.

Like people were talking about you…
looking at you…
judging you before you even opened your mouth?

Like you were close to something—but it always felt just out of reach?

If we’re honest, many of us know what it feels like to be on the outside looking in.

In this story, Jesus shows up in Samaria—a place he wasn’t expected to be.

And there, ten lepers stand at a distance.

Outcasts.
Unclean.
Forgotten.

They cry out for mercy—and Jesus responds.

He tells them to go, and as they go…they are changed.

1) Jesus is everywhere—even in places we don’t expect

Jesus wasn’t supposed to be in Samaria.
But that’s exactly where the miracle happened.

And isn’t that how Jesus works?

Showing up in unexpected places—
through unexpected people—
at unexpected times.

Maybe Jesus has shown up in your life like that before.

In a stranger.
In a moment.
In a situation you didn’t see coming.

2) Jesus can change things in a second

These lepers had been living the same life for who knows how long.

Then in a moment—everything changed.

Not gradually.
Not eventually.

But as they were going.

And that’s good news.

Because Jesus can step into your situation—right now—
and shift something.

Maybe not everything…
but enough to remind you that change is possible.

3) When Jesus calls, it’s time to come out

Only one came back.

The outsider.
The foreigner.
The one who didn’t “fit.”

And he didn’t just receive healing—
he stepped into wholeness.

He came back publicly.
Boldly.
Unashamed.

He came out of hiding.

And maybe that’s the invitation for us.

Not just to receive what Jesus gives—
but to respond.

To come out of fear.
To come out of shame.
To come out of hiding.

And to live differently because of what God has done.

Because when Jesus touches your life…
you can’t go back to being who you were.

So I’ll leave you with this:

When Jesus calls you out—
will you stay where you are…

or will you step into the new life waiting for you?

Because you are not forgotten.
You are not disqualified.
You are not outside of God’s love.

You are seen.
You are called.
And you are invited…

to live your life out loud.

Amen.