This Ash Wednesday message frames Lent as a holy interruption and an invitation to step out of the rhythms that quietly shape us and into the story of Jesus. Beginning with the words, “You are dust,” we are reminded that this truth is not meant to crush us but to ground us. Scripture reveals dust as something God personally formed and filled with divine breath, naming our dependence and reminding us that every breath is a gift sustained by God’s mercy.

From ashes, the sermon traces the Lenten journey with Jesus through wilderness, road, garden, and cross, all the way toward resurrection. Jesus enters our dust-level humanity, resists temptation, surrenders in obedience, bears the curse of sin, and rises to restore what was lost. Lent is not a path of despair but of formation where we learn again to trust the Gardener who brings life from dust and leads us toward new creation.

This sermon reframes the Ten Commandments as words of freedom spoken to a people who have already been rescued. Given at Mount Sinai, the “Ten Words” are not a checklist for earning God’s love but covenantal language meant to undo what slavery formed in Israel and to guard them from recreating Egypt in the wilderness. God speaks before they enter the land, reminding them who He is and what He has done, then shaping their worship, rest, relationships, and desires so they can learn how to live their lives in freedom.

The sermon points forward to Jesus, who fulfills these words by living with an undivided heart and inviting us into a transformed way of life. In Christ, the law becomes an invitation rather than a burden.  It becomes a freedom that reaches our habits, calendars, and loves. The God who brought His people out of slavery now calls us to rest, trust, and belong in His kingdom.

This sermon centers on Mount Sinai as the moment when rescue turns into formation. God has freed Israel from slavery, but freedom alone doesn’t change reflexes, fears, or identity. At the mountain, God encounters His people, reminds them of His grace and names who they are before asking anything of them. Obedience here is not perfection, but careful listening, or learning to attend to God’s voice after generations of listening to Pharaoh. Sinai becomes God’s classroom, where rescued people are reshaped into worshiping people.

The fire, smoke, and boundaries reveal a tension we still live with: God is holy and weighty, yet He invites nearness. Israel hesitates, standing at a distance out of fear, even when the trumpet signals invitation. Hebrews shows us that Jesus is the better mediator who brings holiness and access together, so we no longer approach God in terror but with reverent confidence. Yet formation still requires waiting, listening, and trust. The God who shakes mountains is the same God who carries His people, and He is still forming those who will listen.

Where might God be inviting you to stop holding back in fear and listen closely as you draw nearer to Him?

This sermon reflects on Exodus 18 and the often-overlooked way God forms us in the wilderness, not through dramatic moments, but through ordinary, shared life. Moses’ reunion with Jethro shows how telling the whole story of God’s faithfulness, including hardship and weariness, helps reorient us. When Moses speaks his story out loud, he’s reminded that his life isn’t just a load to manage, but a story God is actively telling. God forms His people by grounding them in shared story, helping them see that their everyday lives truly belong within His larger work.

Out of that shared story grows shared life. Because Jethro knows Moses and listens without rushing to fix him, he can lovingly name a limit Moses cannot see on his own: the burden is too heavy to carry alone. This passage isn’t just about leadership or delegation.  It’s about freedom. God forms us through community, not self-sufficiency, inviting us to share responsibility, trust others, and let go of the illusion that faithfulness means doing everything ourselves.

Who might God be inviting you to share your real story with, and where could shared life become the place God lightens your load and reshapes your faith?

This week’s sermon walks us into Exodus 16 and the long, uncomfortable middle ground known as the wilderness. Just weeks after the miracle of the Red Sea, Israel is hungry, frustrated, and questioning whether God can be trusted to sustain them day by day. God responds not with scolding, but with provision.  He gives them manna, daily bread that can’t be stored, controlled, or explained. The story reminds us that Exodus isn’t just about rescue.  It’s about formation. The wilderness isn’t a mistake or a detour, but the place where God gently exposes our fears, our need for control, and the lingering habits of “Egypt” that still live in us. What looks like scarcity becomes the setting for learning trust.

The manna teaches a new rhythm of life and experiencing daily dependence on God’s provision and presence. God isn’t just fixing circumstances, but instead, He’s forming people who live open-handed, trusting Him one day at a time. This story echoes all the way to Jesus’ words, “Give us this day our daily bread,” inviting us into the same posture of trust. Faith doesn’t begin with having everything figured out.  It begins with waking up, receiving what God gives today, and trusting Him again tomorrow. As you reflect, where might God be inviting you to loosen your grip on control and learn to trust Him for your daily bread right where you are?

In Exodus 15, Israel stands on the far side of the Red Sea and responds to God’s deliverance not with a plan, but with a song. Before they know what comes next, they declare who God is. They sing songs that declare Him to be their strength, salvation, and Lord. Worship shapes their memory and identity, turning inherited faith into personal trust. In the face of every rival power, they proclaim a simple truth: there is no one like the Lord. He rescues, reigns, and leads his people forward in love.

Just days later, bitter water replaces praise, and grumbling takes its place. Still, God meets them with patience. At the sea, he removes the obstacle, and at Marah, He transforms it. He reveals himself not only as rescuer, but as healer. Freedom is not just a moment.  It is a slow work of formation, learned in the wilderness as God teaches his people to depend on Him.

Whether you are standing at the sea needing God to make a way, or at Marah tasting disappointment, God is still at work. He still delivers, He still heals, and He is still forming His people.

This sermon opens the season of Epiphany by asking a simple but important question: what if God is already at work and we are just moving too fast to notice?

Walking through the story of the Magi in Matthew 2, this message explores how faith often begins with questions, not certainty, and how wandering can actually be a sign of hope. We reflect on light in dark seasons, ordinary places where God chooses to dwell, and the quiet ways Jesus reshapes our direction.

If you are entering a new year feeling unsure, distracted, or longing for more, this sermon invites you to slow down, pay attention, and follow Christ even if you can only see the next step.

Christmas brings our deepest longings to the surface. In the middle of joy and exhaustion, celebration and grief, many of us are quietly asking the same question: am I really loved as I am right now? This Eve of Eve message reminds us that Christmas is not about pretending everything is fine. It is about God meeting us exactly where we are.

Drawing from 1 John 4, we see that God's love is not distant or abstract. Love comes close in the person of Jesus Christ. God sent his Son into the world so that we might live through him. Christmas is not asking us to try harder or clean ourselves up. It is inviting us to receive the life, forgiveness, and love God has already given and extend that to those around us.

Advent is a season of waiting, but it's not passive waiting. Scripture invites us to wait with anticipation, and that kind of waiting is meant to be marked by joy.

In this message, we explore what biblical joy really is, why it’s more than a fleeting emotion, and how it can exist even in the midst of sorrow and frustration. We’ll consider why joy is both commanded and cultivated, and how Advent calls us to fix our hope on a faithful Savior who has come and will come again.

If joy feels complicated or elusive this season, this message invites you to see it not as something you manufacture, but something rooted in Christ himself.

Advent often feels like it begins in the dark. Circumstances crowd in, anxiety hums beneath the surface, and waiting feels like a spotlight on everything we cannot control. Yet into that very place, God speaks a single, hope-soaked word: nevertheless.

This message from Tyler Bushhorn traces the story from Isaiah’s promise to the shepherds’ hillside, where heaven breaks open and peace arrives not as a feeling, but as a baby. We explore why true peace can’t be manufactured, why our substitutes fall short, and how Christ meets restless people right where they are.

Whether you’re navigating a weary December or just craving a breath of stillness, this Advent reflection invites you to remember the God who keeps His promises and the peace that breaks in even when circumstances feel anything but peaceful.