We had the chance on Sunday to sit with Psalm 116 and reflect on how gratitude doesn’t stop at remembering what God has done—it moves us to respond with worship, obedience, and open-handed generosity. When gratitude fills our hearts, generosity naturally flows from our lives.

To help you carry this into the week, I’m attaching our Sunday-to-Monday Guide. It includes a simple prayer rhythm, Scriptures to reflect on, and a few questions designed to help you engage the message in practical, meaningful ways.

My prayer is that as you continue to remember the grace God has poured out in your life, you’ll experience fresh joy in giving back to Him—gladly, freely, and joyfully.

On Sunday, we explored Paul’s call in 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18, a summons to a life that seems humanly impossible: one of constant joy, constant prayer, and constant gratitude. But Paul isn’t asking us to manufacture an emotional state; he’s inviting us into a new way of seeing reality. Gratitude is not a thin optimism or a spiritual technique. It’s a way of interpreting your life through the lens of grace rather than circumstance. It’s learning to live as someone who has received everything and deserved nothing. As Keller often said, “Grace doesn’t just rescue you, it reshapes how you see everything.” Gratitude grows in the soil of grace because grace re-narrates your entire story.

This week, I invite you to continue embracing the grace that cultivates gratitude. Attached are two resources intended to help you integrate Sunday’s message into your daily life: Sermon Notes for revisiting the core themes, and the Sunday to Monday Guide to facilitate reflection, engagement, and application of God’s Word with others.

Transformation seldom occurs instantaneously; it develops through sustained reflection. As we continually contemplate God's grace, our hearts gradually change. Gratitude increases, not because life becomes easier, but because Christ becomes more central in our perspective.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Most of us don’t like tests—but in Malachi 3, God flips the script. Instead of forbidding His people to test Him, He invites them to: “Test Me in this.” It’s as if God says, “Go ahead—trust Me first, and then watch what I do.” When we give God what’s first, He blesses what’s next. But when we give Him what’s left, everything else comes first. This week’s message reminded us that giving isn’t about money—it’s about mastery. Who rules our hearts? God doesn’t need our percentage; He desires our priority.

Testing God’s promise isn’t about doubting His power—it’s about deepening our dependence. The word bāḥan in Hebrew means “to examine through experience.” God doesn’t want blind obedience; He wants trust that grows through proof of His faithfulness. Every time we give first, we are declaring that God is our Provider, not our paycheck. The goal isn’t to give more out of pressure, but to grow more in trust. That’s why our next steps this week—Pray. Plan. Percentage. Progress.—move generosity from a rule to a rhythm.

What would it look like if your week reflected first things first—where worship, giving, and gratitude shaped every decision? As you revisit this Sunday’s message, let God speak again through His Word. Above you’ll find the Sunday to Monday Guide for deeper conversation in your small group or around your dinner table.

On Sunday, we explored the story of Esther—a story of courage, faith, and God’s hidden hand at work. Though God’s name is never mentioned in the book of Esther, His presence is unmistakable.

When God seems silent in our own lives, we can follow Esther’s example by seeking Him through prayer, repentance, and expectant obedience.

This week, take some time to revisit the message and walk through the Sunday to Monday reflection guide. It’s designed to help you live out the truth that God is always working, even when He seems absent.

On Sunday we considered this truth:

Revival begins with renewed worship, not renewed effort.

We watched in Ezra 3 as God’s people came home to rubble—walls burned down, temple destroyed, dreams deferred. Before they rebuilt their world, they rebuilt their worship. They didn’t start with hammers; they started with hearts. Because before God rebuilds what’s around us, He restores what’s within us.

Here’s what I didn’t say yesterday:

We often pray for revival as if it’s a wave that will sweep through our culture—but biblically, revival almost always starts small. It begins with a remnant. It begins with repentance. It begins at an altar no one else sees. Revival doesn’t usually look like fire falling from heaven—it looks like faithfulness rekindled in the dark.

So here’s the invitation this week:

• Don’t chase momentum; cultivate devotion.

• Return to the altar—and let worship do the rebuilding.

On Sunday we saw that when earthly power collides with divine authority, God’s Kingdom isn’t just surviving history—it’s directing it.

Daniel’s friends didn’t stand because they were fearless; they stood because they were convinced. Their courage came from knowing who reigns above the fire.

Here’s the truth that carries us into the week:

Because He reigns above everything, we can remain faithful in anything.

When your convictions collide with culture, convenience, or comfort—remember the One who still walks in the flames with you.

When the temple fell, Israel lost the visible symbol of God’s presence—but not His presence itself. In exile, they learned to gather around Scripture, prayer, and community. That’s actually where the early roots of the synagogue began.

Sometimes God removes what’s familiar so He can rebuild something enduring. Without Babylon, Israel may never have become a people of the Book—and without that, there would be no foundation for Jesus, the Word made flesh.

“Seek the peace and prosperity of the city…” came before “I know the plans I have for you.” God’s plan for their future depended on their faithfulness in the present.

That means hope isn’t passive waiting—it’s active witness. God’s people were told to plant gardens, build homes, and pray for their captors. Faith doesn’t flourish by escaping Babylon—it grows by being faithful in Babylon.

In Jerusalem, worship had become routine. In Babylon, it became real. Cut off from the temple, they rediscovered personal and communal prayer—the kind that wrestles and weeps.

Sometimes it takes a season of dislocation to bring us back to conversation with God instead of consumption of religion.

On Sunday, we continued Binge the Bible: Season 2 with this truth: God’s holiness convicts us, His mercy redeems us, and His grace compels us to serve.

That’s what we saw in Isaiah’s vision of the Lord in Isaiah 6. In the year that King Uzziah died, Isaiah saw the Lord seated on the throne, high and exalted. His response wasn’t joy but dread: “Woe is me! I am ruined.” God’s holiness exposed Isaiah’s sin, and he knew he was undone.

But God didn’t leave him there. A burning coal from the altar touched his lips, and in a moment the declaration was made: “Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.” That’s the gospel—at the cross, judgment fell on Jesus so that mercy could fall on us.

Isaiah then heard the Lord’s call: “Whom shall I send?” and responded, “Here am I. Send me.” That’s the journey we’re invited into: from conviction, to cleansing, to calling.

So here’s the invitation this week: Don’t stop at being convicted; receive God’s mercy, and then live sent.

On Sunday we continued Binge the Bible: Season 2 with this truth:

The God who calls us back demands a decision — and Jesus has already made His for you.

That’s what we saw on Mount Carmel and again in the message of Amos. God’s people had been living double lives—offering lip service to Yahweh while chasing Baal for prosperity. Elijah stood on that mountain and asked, “How long will you waver between two opinions?” (1 Kings 18:21).

The prophets remind us that we can’t have it both ways. To not decide is to decide. And yet, even when we’ve wandered, the heart of God remains the same—He calls us back.

Amos picks up that same call a century later: “Seek good, not evil, that you may live” (Amos 5:14). It’s not just a moral checklist; it’s a relational invitation. God is saying, “Come home. Seek Me, and live.”

We live in a culture that celebrates self-made stories, where everyone writes their own version of truth. But Scripture tells a better one. It’s the story of a God who doesn’t give up, who rebuilds what’s been torn down, who replaces false altars with grace.

So here’s the invitation this week:

Don’t just believe God’s story—align your life with it.

On Sunday we began Binge the Bible: Season 2 with this truth:

If we don’t retell God’s story, we’ll forget the Savior at the center of it.

Now, let’s think about that. Every one of us is living inside some kind of story. Modern secular culture says the story is: you’re an accident of atoms, so write your own meaning. The problem? If you’re just an accident, meaning is something you invent, not something you can trust. That’s shaky ground to build a life on.

Psalm 78 reminds us that God’s story is different. It’s not myth, it’s memory. It’s anchored in events, an exodus, a covenant, a Messiah who stepped into history. Forgetting that story isn’t like forgetting where you parked your car; it’s like forgetting who you are. And when you forget who you are, you’ll let someone else define you.

That’s why retelling matters. We’re all curators of memory. If we don’t hand our kids God’s story, the culture will gladly hand them another—one that says they’re accidents of biology, or that happiness is found in consuming more. But those scripts leave people restless. Only the gospel gives a story that is both true enough to satisfy the mind and strong enough to heal the heart.

That’s how remembering works. It’s how faith gets transferred, not just taught.