If you have placed your faith in Christ this morning, you are a Jesus person. You are a saint. You have been claimed and you have been called.
The disciples locked the doors after Easter. Jesus walked through anyway. On fear, Thomas, wounds, and what it takes for a room to become a church.
Nicodemus meets Jesus under cover of night and discovers that rebirth requires surrender, courage, and stepping into the light.
Jesus names and embodies God’s nearness in the very places we would never call a blessing.
When the ground is slippery, Jesus says “follow me.” Walk lightly, breathe deeply, and find grace guiding every step through the storm
What if the new year begins with less self-improvement and more trust for what God is already building, healing, and sustaining in our lives?
A sermon on the cosmic Christ who remembers us, hears our smallest prayers, and holds us in covenant love, from the cross to our Thanksgiving tables.
In a weary world of rumors and shutdowns, Paul’s words call us to stand firm, hold fast, and live hope that endures.
How might you keep praying anyway—not for control or proof, but to be formed by God’s enduring love?
Baptism marks God’s enduring claim—engraved by mercy, lived with open hands, and calling us to daily choices of grace.
God’s grace does not shrug at what is lost. It searches, finds, and celebrates—calling us to join the joy of heaven in our neighborhoods.
When grace moves through the ordinary, will there still be light in the house—and room in your life—for it to stay?
Prayer begins with shameless honesty. Ask boldly, for God is already at work in your tomorrow, shaping you through mercy, bread, and Holy Spirit.
Because Jesus lives, you are truly known. What in your life must quiet down so you can hear the voice that’s been calling your name all along?