Jesus spoke about the kingdom in ways that created a surprising tension. He said the kingdom was “at hand,” or had drawn near. He said it had “come upon” them. He said it was “in their midst.” Yet He also taught His disciples to keep praying, “Your kingdom come.”

So the kingdom was near. It was present. It was already breaking into the world through the King. And yet, in another sense, it was still coming. The great surprise was not whether God’s kingdom would come, but how it would come.

We tend to trust what is big, visible, immediate, and measurable. So when the gospel seems small in comparison to the powers of this world, when the culture seems increasingly resistant to Christ, or when the work of God appears to be slow and hidden, we can begin to wonder whether His kingdom is really advancing. But Jesus warned us not to worry about small beginnings and little influence. The kingdom may begin like a mustard seed and work like leaven, but what God has purposed through His Son cannot be stopped.

In Matthew 13:31–35, Jesus taught two parables revealing the surprising manner in which the kingdom of heaven enters and advances in the world.

Wherever Jesus the King is received, His reign begins to transform hearts and lives. That’s why Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy kingdom come” prayers. The King has come, but His kingdom is an already/not yet kingdom.

In today’s parable, Jesus answers the question hanging in the air that is something like: If the Messiah has come and the kingdom has arrived, why are the wicked still here, and why are so many rejecting the King? Or in other words, “If God is good and Christ is King, why does evil remain?”

We often feel that same tension today. We look at a world filled with violence, injustice, unbelief, suffering, and open rebellion against God, and we wonder, If Jesus is King, why does evil remain? If we misunderstand the present nature of Christ’s kingdom, we may mistake His patience for weakness, His delay for absence, or the persistence of evil for the defeat of His purposes. We can learn to trust the King while we are still living in a world where wheat and weeds grow together. That is the tension Jesus addresses in the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds.

In the Gospel of Matthew 13, Jesus told the parable of the wheat and the weeds to teach His disciples that His kingdom would patiently coexist with evil until the appointed harvest, when He would finally judge the wicked and vindicate the righteous.

A parable is more than an earthly story with a heavenly meaning. Jesus’ parables were simple stories drawn from everyday life that revealed the mysteries of the kingdom to receptive hearts.

Parables don’t merely illustrate truth. They expose our response to truth. They reveal our spiritual receptivity.

And that raises a very personal question for us: How receptive are we to the King and His kingdom? We can sit in church, hear the Word, sing the songs, know the prayers, and still have a heart that is resistant to what God is saying. The problem is not that God is silent. The problem is that sometimes we aren’t really listening.

Jesus will describe four people who all hear the same message. The same sower. The same seed. But dramatically different results. The difference is not the seed. The difference is the soil. And the condition of the soil represents the spiritual receptivity of the heart.

We know how to communicate a prayer request. We can send a text, post it on social media, or add someone’s name to a prayer list. But communicating a burden is not the same as carrying it together before God.

We need people who are more than informed. We need believers who will sit beside us, call upon God with us, remind us of His promises, and believe with us for His strength and help.

Some burdens become lighter when others help us carry them. Some fears begin to lose their grip when we hear another believer speak God’s truth over us. Some trials require more than a prayer emoji. They call for the gathered people of God to lift their voices together.

In the book of Acts, Luke described how after the Jewish leaders had arrested Peter and John and threatened them not to speak in the name of Jesus, they immediately gathered together with other believers to pray, and received Spirit-given boldness to continue proclaiming His Word. We can face life’s trials and fulfill Christ’s mission more boldly when we gather together in prayer.

Over the last 2 weeks we have discussed the first two devotions that foster real connection. They are a devotion to God’s Word and to Christian fellowship. Now we come to the third, which is the breaking of bread. That’s why we’ve titled this message, From Screen to Table. Because we long for the connection a shared table provides, but we have traded the table for a screen.

We have bigger kitchens than our grandparents ever dreamed of. Islands. Double ovens. Farmhouse sinks. Marble countertops. And nobody comes over. We have a dining room, but nobody uses it. It's the room you walk through on the way to the recliner.

But it’s not merely the table, but the way we gather around it. Have we come around the meal with undivided attention and a heart focused on fellowship? In a world where we spend more time gathered around screens than around tables, have we lost one of God's ordinary means of growing us closer together and of growing His church?

In the book of Acts, Luke described how the early church grew not only through worship in the temple but also through fellowship around the dinner table. We can grow in Christian community by sharing life around the dinner table.

Sociologists have a term for the way many of us live now: “networked individualism.” We have traded smaller, tightly connected communities for sprawling networks of online relationships.

We may have hundreds of followers and still not have a friend to call at two in the morning. We know what someone we have not seen since high school ate for lunch, yet we may have no idea that the woman sitting two rows away has not slept in a week. We are more reachable than any generation in history, yet somehow harder to truly reach. Digital contact may represent connection, but it cannot fully replace it.

In the book of Hebrews, the author urged believers, who were in danger of drifting and withdrawing, to live faithfully in fellowship as God’s family because of the access they share through Jesus Christ.

You can text a friend in seconds, video chat with family across the country, and scroll through hundreds of updates before breakfast. And yet so many of us feel isolated, distracted, and hungry for something deeper.

Our theme verse comes from the apostle John, who understood something about the limits of long-distance communication: “Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete” (2 John 12).

Even John knew: some things can only happen face to face.

We all face decisions that Scripture doesn't answer explicitly. Whom should I marry? Which job should I take? Speak up or stay quiet? Say yes to one good thing, knowing it means no to another? Should I make this purchase? How do I respond to this trial or trouble? Decisions, decisions…

In a world full of competing voices, we desperately need more than information. We need spiritual discernment. The good news is that God doesn't leave His children to figure life out alone. Through Christ He gives us His Spirit, renews our minds, and teaches us to recognize His will. If you are in Christ, this life is available to you. Paul now shows us what a life shaped by that renewed mind looks like.

In the apostle Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, he urged believers, knowing the days are evil, to live with spiritual discernment regarding the will of the Lord.

Romans 12 tells us to "be transformed by the renewal of your mind." But that naturally raises a question: How? How does someone actually live a transformed life?

Have you ever wondered why so many Christians struggle to experience real transformation? We believe the Gospel. We know Christ has saved us. We still worry like the world worries, chase what the world chases, lose our temper over the same frustrations, seek our identity in our careers or accomplishments, and return to the same sins we've battled for years. The problem isn't that Christ has failed to transform us. The problem is that we often continue living as though our old life is still our true life.

As we will see today, we can learn to live as the new people Christ has already made us. In Colossians 3:1–11, the apostle Paul taught the Colossian believers that because they had died and been raised with Christ, they were to live out the transformed life that Christ had given them.

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to drift? No one accidentally becomes more like Jesus. We don't wake up one day more holy, more prayerful, more loving, or more obedient without intentional pursuit. Left to ourselves, we drift. We conform. That word pictures a mold or pattern that quietly shapes whatever is pressed into it. The world has a pattern, and if we're not careful, we'll naturally fit right into it.

In 1 Peter chapter 1, the apostle Peter wrote to Christians living as exiles throughout Asia Minor, exhorting them to live differently in this world because they belonged to God through Jesus Christ.