How to Hear God - Pete Greig

https://www.amazon.com/How-Hear-God-Simple-Normal/dp/0310114608

The Power of Worship

Mark 14:1-11

Worship is never neutral. It either loosens our grip on lesser loves or tightens their chains around our soul. In Bethany, while death plotted in the shadows and religion calculated its risks, a woman stepped into the light of wholehearted devotion. She broke what could not be repaired, poured out what could not be recovered, and loved Jesus without reserve. And Jesus called it beautiful.

Mary’s act was not impulsive sentimentality; it was the overflow of a heart already shaped. She did not wake that morning intending to make history. She simply brought to Jesus what she treasured most. Worship is always like this—it reveals what already reigns within us. Judas stood in the same room, heard the same words, saw the same Jesus. Yet one broke a jar in love, and the other sold the Lord for silver. Experience with Jesus does not transform us; worship of Jesus does.

What we revere, we resemble. Mary worshiped Jesus and became free—free from calculation, free from fear of opinion, free from the tyranny of possessions. Judas worshiped money and became enslaved—restless, defensive, deceptive, willing to trade relationship for reward. Worship is never merely about what we do on occasion; it is about who or what commands our deepest allegiance. And that allegiance quietly but relentlessly forms us.

Notice that Mary did not understand the full meaning of her act. Jesus tells us she was preparing Him for burial, though she likely had no such awareness. This is the hidden power of worship: God uses surrendered love to accomplish purposes far beyond our understanding. We imagine worship as expressive; God reveals it to be effective. He has chosen praise, sacrifice, obedience, and devotion as instruments through which He works His will in the world.

Yet worship will always invite resistance. Mary’s devotion was criticized by the religious, rebuked by friends, labeled wasteful and impractical. True worship often looks foolish to those who measure life by utility rather than love. But Jesus stands between the worshiper and the accuser and says, “Leave her alone.” Heaven’s approval outweighs every earthly objection.

The question is not whether we worship, but whom. Our lives testify to our altar. Look not merely at your words, but at your formation. Are you becoming more loving or more guarded? More generous or more anxious? More gentle or more defensive? These are not accidental outcomes; they are the fruit of devotion.

Mary did what she could—and that was enough. She did not calculate future security or public opinion. She responded to Jesus with affection and action. Worship that costs us nothing shapes us into nothing. But worship that breaks us open becomes a fragrance God uses to fill the room—and sometimes, to give hope to others standing knee-deep in the mud.

Pour it out. Worship anyway. God is at work.

Share this with someone in your life who doesn’t know Jesus

Jesus didn’t predict the end of the world to scare people—He predicted the collapse of a broken religious system to invite the world into something better. When everything people trusted fell apart, Jesus was revealed as trustworthy, alive, and open to all who would follow Him.

Coleton’s central aim is clarity: Jesus is not predicting the end of the world in Mark 13, but the end of Jerusalem’s temple-centered way of life. When people misunderstand passages like this, they tend to get fearful, obsessive, or strange. Jesus’ goal, however, is not panic—but faithfulness.

Coleton begins by showing how historically, Christians (and quasi-Christians) have often reacted badly to apocalyptic passages:

Coleton’s Point:

“Passages like the one we just read lead people—especially Christians—to get weird and do weird stuff.”

What’s striking is that the disciples didn’t react this way. Jesus’ original audience didn’t panic, speculate, or obsess. That tells us we’re probably misunderstanding something when we do.

Mark 13:2 – “Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.”

Coleton explains that Jesus is not talking about the end of the universe, but the coming destruction of the Jerusalem Temple.

Conclusion:

The disciples ask when this will happen. Jesus responds with signs—not of immediacy, but of delay.

Mark 13:7 – “Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.”

Important Clarification:

Application Jesus Gives:

“Stand firm. Be patient.”

Mark 13:14 – “When you see the abomination that causes desolation… then flee.”

Coleton explains this phrase using Daniel 11–12 and historical context.

“The ‘desolating abomination’ refers to pagan powers invading Jerusalem, stopping Temple worship, and committing sacrilege.”

William Lane:

Meanwhile, false messiahs arose promising miraculous deliverance. Some stayed and believed them. That decision proved fatal.

N.T. Wright:

“The sun will be darkened… the stars will fall…”

Coleton emphasizes this is Old Testament judgment language, not cosmic destruction.

Mark Strauss & N.T. Wright:

Coleton compares it to losing power permanently—not a temporary outage, but a total restructuring of life.

“They will see the Son of Man coming in clouds…”

This comes from Daniel 7, and Coleton stresses:

This is not Jesus’ second coming to earth

N.T. Wright:

The Temple fell.

The Temple excluded Gentiles. Jesus includes them.

Inscription on the Temple wall:

But now:

Ephesians 2:14–21 –

What the Temple couldn’t do, Jesus did.

“Keep watch. Stay alert.”

Jesus tells them:

The disciples didn’t:

Because Jesus told them not to.

Knowing judgment was coming didn’t lead the early church to despair—it led them to mission.

They lived visibly transformed lives.

Alan Kreider:

People weren’t drawn by fear—but by love.

Jesus predicted the fall of a broken system that rejected Him—and history proved Him right. The Temple fell, Jesus was vindicated, and God’s family expanded to the world. So don’t panic, don’t speculate, and don’t get weird—stay faithful, love boldly, and trust Jesus.

Practice the Way of Jesus

Jesus does not flatter us with comforting abstractions. He speaks with piercing clarity. “Everyone who hears these words of Mine and puts them into practice…”—and there He draws the line that divides all humanity. Not between the moral and immoral, the religious and irreligious, the fortunate and the afflicted—but between the practiced and the merely informed.

The striking truth of Jesus’ words in Matthew 7 is that everything else is the same. The storm does not discriminate. Rain falls on obedience and disobedience alike. Winds beat against every house. The difference is not the weather of life but the weight-bearing obedience beneath it. One hears and does. The other hears and delays. And delay, in the kingdom of God, is already a decision.

Throughout Scripture this pattern is relentless. God speaks; people respond—or refuse. Noah builds while the sky is blue and finds salvation when it turns black. Abraham keeps obeying long after obedience feels unreasonable and discovers that God keeps promises beyond biology. Moses lifts a staff, Israel walks, Naaman washes, blind eyes open, empty nets break with abundance. God’s power is never detached from trust expressed through action.

Equally clear is the sobering witness of those who heard and did nothing. They were invited. They were informed. They were near the truth. Yet they watched storms without experiencing salvation, commands without deliverance, Christ without transformation. It was not ignorance that robbed them—it was unpracticed truth.

Jesus never asked for admirers. He commanded apprentices. “Teach them to obey,” He said—not merely to agree. Christianity left at the level of belief alone becomes weightless. It can grow numerically, organize efficiently, and yet remain untouched by the living power of God. But obedience—real, embodied obedience—becomes the narrow gate through which life flows.

This is why practicing the way of Jesus feels so often unreasonable. Forgive when wounded. Give when anxious. Pray when exhausted. Speak when silence feels safer. These instructions offend our instincts because God has chosen the foolish-looking things to train our trust. We do not drift into this kind of life. We must aim.

Jesus Himself told us it would be harder. Easier roads are always available—but ease is often destructive. What is easiest rarely fuels what is eternal. The narrow way is demanding, but it is alive. As Chesterton observed, Christianity is not tried and found wanting; it is found difficult and left untried.

Yet hear the mercy in all this: Jesus never commands without empowering. He died not only to forgive sin, but to place His Spirit within us—to make obedience possible from the inside out. “It is God who works in you to will and to act…” Our responsibility is not self-powered righteousness, but surrendered cooperation.

So where is the storm pressing hardest right now? Where do you long to see God’s power break through? Do not ask first for relief—ask what obedience looks like there. Search the Scriptures. Seek counsel. Then act.

Build there. Practice there.

And you will find that the life you most truly crave is not found in hearing more—but in practicing what you already have heard.

Larry’s sermon centers on the idea that God desires to guide His people from places of brokenness, scarcity, and stagnation into lives marked by abundance, wisdom, and flourishing. He illustrates this through a story about a close friend who mentors a young woman whose life has been shaped by harmful decisions and discouragement. Larry’s friend pleads with her, saying that if she would simply watch, listen, and follow her, she could be led “from where you are…to better places” — from a life she hates into one she would love.

When Larry hears this, he senses God revealing that this is not just what He desires for one person, but for all of us: God places wise and godly people in our lives as living examples to help guide us from unwise patterns toward wholeness and life.

A major theme of the message is humility. Larry emphasizes that transformation requires the courage to admit, “I don’t know how to live well — but you do,” and to submit ourselves to guidance and imitation. This posture stands in contrast to the modern tendency to seek advice from distant voices — online personalities, influencers, or strangers — whose own lives may not reflect the fruit or outcomes we desire. Larry challenges the congregation to recognize how irrational it is to entrust our deepest life decisions to people we do not know and whose wisdom we cannot verify. Instead, Scripture presents a God who promises to guide His people daily and who often does so through trustworthy, faithful examples in the community of believers.

The sermon also connects this calling to the life of Jesus. Even though Jesus was equal with God, He chose to humble Himself, refusing to act independently; instead, He imitated and followed the will of the Father in everything He did. His life becomes both the model and the means of our transformation — He humbled Himself to the point of death so that we might be set free and learn how to live in alignment with God’s purposes.

Larry frames this life of imitation and discipleship as a movement from “limited vision and prison space” into abundance. God is deeply committed to our good — so committed, in fact, that Christ gave His life to lead us out of captivity and into fullness of life. Communion becomes a tangible reminder of that commitment and an invitation to trust God’s shepherding presence even when the path forward feels uncertain.

Ultimately, the sermon calls believers to embrace a posture of teachability, to seek guidance from godly men and women whose lives demonstrate the fruit of wisdom, and to follow Jesus’ example of humility and obedience. Through this way of life — watching, listening, imitating, and surrendering — God leads His people from places of pain and confusion into places of abundance, freedom, and joy.

Humility & Teachability: Where in your life do you resist guidance because it requires humility? What might it look like to ask someone you trust to “teach you how to live” in that area?

Models Worth Imitating: Who in your life demonstrates the kind of spiritual maturity or fruit you hope to grow into? What practical steps could you take to intentionally learn from them?

Sources of Influence: In what ways do you tend to seek direction from distant or impersonal voices (social media, influencers, etc.)? How can you shift toward embodied, relational guidance?

Following Jesus’ Example: How does Jesus’ humility before the Father challenge your approach to decision-making, independence, or control?

From Scarcity to Abundance: Where do you feel “stuck” or limited right now? What might trusting God’s guidance — through Scripture, prayer, and community — look like in that specific area?

C3 will be meeting in a new building starting January 4, 2026. Listen here for details. 

The Unedited Genealogy of Jesus

“This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah…” — Matthew 1:1

We are accustomed to telling our stories selectively. We polish the edges, omit the failures, and highlight the moments that make us appear respectable. Scripture itself records that genealogies were often written this way—compressed, edited, and curated. Yet when Matthew opens his Gospel, he does something startling. He edits, yes—but not the way we would expect. He leaves the shame in.

The family line of Jesus Christ is not a showcase of uninterrupted virtue. It is a record of sinners, scandals, and severe moral collapse. Judah and Tamar. Rahab the prostitute. Ruth the outsider. David and “the wife of Uriah.” Kings who shed innocent blood and led God’s people into darkness. Matthew does not blur these names into obscurity; he underlines them. He insists that we see the Messiah standing at the end of a long, broken line.

This is not carelessness—it is purposeful. God is telling us something essential about the heart of redemption.

If Jesus were ashamed of broken people, He would have edited them out of His own family tree. But He did not. The people we would hide are the very people God highlights. The people we would disqualify are the people God deliberately includes. From the beginning, the incarnation declares that Jesus did not come from sanitized humanity, but from real humanity—and therefore He has come for it.

Here is the first truth we must face: anyone can belong to His family. Not because sin does not matter, but because grace matters more. The genealogy preaches before Jesus ever speaks. It announces that doubt, failure, addiction, and disgrace do not place you beyond reach—they place you precisely within the kind of reach Christ came to extend. The bloodline of Jesus says to the least and the lost, “There is room.”

But Matthew presses us further. This family tree also reveals that God redeems what we assume is ruined. David’s greatest failure is not erased; it is transformed. From a union marked by adultery and death comes Solomon—and through Solomon, the promises of God move forward. Redemption does not deny the damage of sin, but it refuses to let sin have the final word.

God takes what we are most ashamed of and makes it the very place where His life breaks through. What we call disqualifying, He calls redeemable. What we bury, He resurrects.

Do not ask whether Jesus can handle your past. Look at His genealogy. Do not wonder if your worst mistake is too far gone. Look at the cross, where the Son of God was hung on a tree, covered in the full weight of human shame, so that shame would no longer own us.

The question is not whether He can redeem—it is whether you will hand Him what needs redeeming. Bring it into the light. Invite Him into the place you avoid. He is not embarrassed by your story. He entered history precisely to transform it.

Let Him.

Share this with someone in your life who doesn’t know Jesus

Coleton begins with the angelic announcement in Luke 2:8–11, where shepherds—ordinary, overlooked people—are met by the glory of God in the middle of the night.

“There were shepherds living out in the fields nearby… An angel of the Lord appeared to them… ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.’” (Luke 2:8–11)

Coleton introduces the idea of eucatastrophe, a term coined by J.R.R. Tolkien, meaning “an unexpected breaking in of goodness that changes everything.” A catastrophe is an unexpected disaster that alters life for the worse; a eucatastrophe is the opposite—unexpected goodness that permanently alters reality for the better.

That, Coleton says, is exactly what the angels are announcing. Christmas is not sentimental nostalgia—it is the declaration that something has happened that changes everything. And the angel insists this news is meant to produce great joy.

Coleton then asks the central question of the message:

He gives three reasons.

“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you.” (Luke 2:11)

The first word the angel uses to describe Jesus is Savior. Coleton emphasizes that this is not accidental—this is the core announcement of Christmas: a rescuer has come to you.

Matthew clarifies what kind of rescue Jesus brings:

“He will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21)

Coleton explains that many in Israel expected a rescuer from Roman oppression, but God identified a deeper enemy. From God’s perspective, sin is a greater threat than any external circumstance. Sin is not just rule-breaking; it is a destructive power that poisons life from the inside out.

Scripture says:

“The wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23)

Sin always pays out in destruction—relationally, emotionally, spiritually.

Coleton illustrates this with a personal story from a home renovation: exposed live wires in the wall when his son Teddy was three years old. He wanted Teddy to obey him—but not simply because “I said so.” The deeper reason was that touching the wire would cause serious harm or even death.

In the same way, God’s commands are not arbitrary. Sin is dangerous. God forbids it because it kills us.

The problem is not just that sin is harmful—it’s that we are drawn to it. Coleton traces this reality through Scripture:

“Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?” (Romans 7:24)

Coleton names experiences we all recognize:

He quotes John Piper:

“Sin is the suicidal abandonment of joy.”

This is why Christmas is good news: Jesus has come to rescue us from the addictive desire to do what destroys us.

Paul answers his own question:

“Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:25)

Through the cross, sin’s power is broken.

“Our old self was crucified with him… that we should no longer be slaves to sin.” (Romans 6:6)

Coleton quotes Jackie Hill Perry:

“When Jesus died and rose, He gave you power to defeat sin… You are not a slave. You are free. You just have to believe that and walk in it.”

Jesus doesn’t just forgive sin—He breaks its authority and reshapes our desires.

The angel also calls Jesus the Messiah—His job reminder, not just His title.

Coleton walks through Isaiah 61, the Messiah’s job description:

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me… to proclaim good news to the poor… bind up the brokenhearted… proclaim freedom for the captives… bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes…” (Isaiah 61:1–3)

This describes a life transformed—not patched up, but renewed.

Jesus explicitly claims this mission in Luke 4, declaring that Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled in Him.

Coleton shows how Jesus lived this out:

Every encounter demonstrates the same truth: when people come to Jesus, His job description becomes their lived experience.

Coleton makes a bold claim:

He shares his own story—how his life changed dramatically after coming to faith. His friends loved the change but resisted the source. They wanted transformation without surrender.

He quotes A.W. Tozer:

“We treat Jesus the way Saul treated David. We want him to fight our battles for us… but we don’t want him to be our king.”

Coleton explains that who you believe your Messiah is will shape your life.

Jesus doesn’t offer occasional help; He offers fullness of life under His leadership.

The angel calls Jesus Lord—God Himself with us.

Coleton defines shame:

“Shame is not guilt. Guilt is ‘I did something wrong.’ Shame is ‘there is something wrong with me.’”

In Genesis, Moses repeatedly says Adam and Eve were “naked and unashamed.” Their identity, value, and security came from God’s presence.

Coleton quotes Donald Miller:

“All of the glory, all of the security, all of the value that came from God was gone… and for the first time ever, they were pining for something to tell them they were okay.”

That’s when they hid.

God’s question—“Who told you that you were naked?” (Genesis 3:11)—reveals the source: shame.

Coleton shows how humanity has been trying to silence shame ever since:

All of it is an attempt to quiet the whisper: something is wrong with me.

Christmas declares something different: Immanuel—God with us.

“Come to me… and I will give you rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:28)

Coleton ends by pointing to the cross:

Jesus is the ultimate eucatastrophe—the unexpected goodness that changes everything.