Lying. Losing your temper. Taking things that aren't yours. Talking trash. Holding a grudge. None of these would make your "top 10 worst sins" list — so why does the Apostle Paul stop to call them out? Pastor Michael unpacks the three hidden wounds that even "small," everyday sins cause — and the three cures God has already provided in Christ. This isn't a guilt trip. It's a look at why sin is heavier than we think, and why grace is bigger than we imagined.

We all know the basics: tell the truth, don't hold a grudge, be a good person. But when Paul gets practical about the "new self" we have in Christ, he doesn't point to the mission field — he points to the dinner table. Your spouse. Your kids. Your coworkers. The people who see the worst version of you are the people who know you best. In this message, we walk through four ordinary battlegrounds — truth, anger, work, and words — and find the same truth behind every one of them: you've received grace from God, and now you get to give it away.

There's an old you, and there's a new you — but let's be honest, the new you can act a lot like the old you. In this message from 922 Ministries' CORE campus, we look at Ephesians 4 and the apostle Paul's encouragement to Christians who keep slipping back into old patterns. The old habits linger. But that doesn't change what's already true: in Christ, you're a new creation.

You can tell a lot about a person just by watching them — sawdust on their clothes, grease on their hands, how they react when a flight sits on the tarmac for an hour. But God isn't just interested in what shows up on the outside.

In this message from 922 Ministries' St. Peter campus, we look at Ephesians 4 and discover that God never came to improve the old you. He came to make you completely new — starting with the heart, not the behavior.

Faith was never meant to stay the same. A faith that is not growing is a faith that is vulnerable, and Ephesians 4 gives us a clear picture of how God designed our faith to mature. Immature faith gets tossed around by false teaching and deception, much like a toddler knocked flat by a small wave. God's design for growth is not a solo effort. He placed us in a body of believers, gave each person unique gifts, and provided pastors and teachers to equip us for the work. The goal is Christlikeness, and the path runs straight through community. Truth and love together are the two pillars of a maturing church. Stay connected to Christ, stay connected to His people, and trust that from Him, the whole body grows.

You were not made to drift through life as if everything revolves around you, but you were also not made to fade into the background. Christianity holds both truths in tension: you carry infinite value in God's sight, and yet you are called to deny yourself and live for something greater. In Ephesians 4, Paul urges believers to live worthy of the calling they have received, a calling that carries the weight of a royal summons from God Himself. That calling is lived out through humility, gentleness, patience, and a genuine commitment to the unity of the body of Christ. Every believer has been individually gifted by God, not to elevate themselves, but because someone else needs what they carry. The ministry does not belong only to pastors and teachers. It belongs to every person in the body. When you hold back your gift, there is a gap in the body of Christ where you were meant to be. You were called to something bigger than yourself, and that calling is worth everything it requires.

In Ephesians 3, the apostle Paul is so overwhelmed by the goodness of God that he falls to his knees in prayer. Rather than asking for easier circumstances, he prays for something far more foundational: strength in the inner being through the Holy Spirit. He longs for Christ to fully dwell in every corner of the heart, not as a Sunday visitor but as a permanent resident. Paul then reaches for words to describe the love of Christ and finds that no words are enough. The love of God is wider, longer, higher, and deeper than anything we can measure or fully comprehend. Growing in faith does not mean reaching the end of what God is. It means discovering how much more of Him there is still to know. The challenge is not to do more, but to see more clearly.

Most of us spend enormous energy managing how things look on the outside while neglecting what is happening on the inside. In Ephesians 3, Paul drops to his knees and prays not for better circumstances but for something far more transformative: that Christ would dwell in the hearts of believers. The Greek word for dwell means to settle in and make a home, not simply to visit. Jesus is not interested in seeing only the clean, presentable rooms of your life. He wants access to the locked door, the hidden place where shame, bitterness, or unresolved pain has been kept out of sight. He knocks not to condemn but to redeem. When Christ truly makes His home in your heart, there is no vacancy left for guilt, anxiety, or bitterness. The peace you have been searching for is not waiting on the other side of fixed circumstances. It is waiting on the other side of a surrendered heart.

Secrets are almost impossible to keep. But God kept one — the biggest one in history — hidden in his heart before the world began, and revealed it at exactly the right time.

In this message from our summer series through Ephesians, we uncover “the secret of all secrets”: that Jews and Gentiles, insiders and outsiders, every background and every nation, are equal heirs of Christ's grace. And we discover why knowing this secret doesn't just save us — it sustains us when suffering comes, by recentering our identity and redefining our purpose.

Whatever you're carrying right now — a diagnosis, a hard season, a label you didn't choose — this message is a reminder that it doesn't get the final word on who you are.

Every superhero has an origin story. So does the apostle Paul — except his begins with him trying to destroy the church.

In this message from our summer series through Ephesians, we meet Saul: a brilliant, zealous, deeply religious man who hunted down Christians — and was the least likely person on earth to ever follow Jesus. Then everything changed on a desert road outside Damascus.

His story raises a question worth sitting with: is there someone in your life who feels too far gone for God to reach? Someone you've stopped praying for — not because you gave up on God, but because you quietly gave up on them?