From the Pulpit

Faith is often tested in quiet, ordinary moments—when the way forward feels uncertain, when waiting stretches patience, and when doing something seems easier than trusting someone. In those moments, it is possible to be sincere, active, and even religious, while slowly drifting from simple dependence on the word of the Lord. Scripture speaks tenderly but clearly to that condition, reminding God’s people that faith is not measured by urgency or output, but by trust and obedience.

In 1 Samuel 14, two ways of relating to God are set side by side. One is marked by restlessness, noise, and a desire to secure outcomes; the other by humility, restraint, and confidence in the Lord’s power to act according to his will. The contrast invites careful reflection—not on how much is being done for God, but on whether hearts are quietly resting in him, listening for his voice, and moving forward in trust rather than fear.

Waiting is never easy. We want answers, results, and direction—and we want them now. But the life of faith often asks us to do the opposite: to wait. First Samuel 13 recounts a scene from the life of Saul, Israel’s first king, standing at the edge of a crisis. The enemy is at the gates, his army is small, weak, and afraid, and the moment demands action—or so it seems. Saul faces a choice: trust God’s timing or step ahead in his own. He chooses the latter, and the consequences are devastating. This isn’t just ancient history. Each of us faces moments like Saul’s: when patience feels unbearable, when pressure tempts us to act without God, when fear, uncertainty, or frustration threatens to make us take control. As we explore this chapter, God’s people today are invited to wrestle with the same question Saul faced: Can we trust God’s timing when waiting feels impossible?

In 1 Samuel 12, Israel finally reaches a moment of relief. The threat has passed, the king has been established, and the people gather in celebration. Yet instead of simply affirming the moment, God speaks—because something deeper still needs attention. Through Samuel, the Lord confronts how fear shaped Israel’s choices, reminds them that he alone has always been their true King, and calls them back to a life of obedience grounded in his covenant faithfulness. This scene doesn’t undo what has happened, but it interprets it, helping God’s people understand both their danger and their hope. It exposes how easily fear can take hold, and how patiently God restores the repentant. As Samuel speaks, the people are not driven away but drawn nearer—invited to trust the God who has never left them and to live again under his good and saving rule.

Sermon from December 21, 2025 service. Harold Peasley preaching.

At Christmas, we often talk about what happened: a baby lying in a manger, angels singing in the sky, shepherds watching in the field. But Titus 2 tells us what the birth of Christ did. When the grace of God “appeared,” Paul says, it wasn’t simply the beginning of a beloved story; it was the beginning of a new reality. 

Zechariah, speaking of the coming birth of Jesus, said that he would “appear … to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:79).

Christ appeared “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14), and his appearing did things—things we should be mindful of, grateful for, and purposeful about.

Sermon from December 07, 2025 service. Jim Rennie preaching.

Advent begins with longing—with God’s people sitting in the dark and remembering what it means to wait. And when we look back through the Old Testament, we discover that this longing isn’t new; it’s been woven into the story since Eden. From the garden to the patriarchs, from Moses to David, from the poets to the prophets, Scripture builds a rising expectation: Someone is coming.

Today, as we begin the Advent season, we’re going to trace that hope through the pages of the Bible—not just to appreciate the gift we received when Christ came the first time, but to rekindle our anticipation for what his return will bring.

First Samuel 11 drops God’s people into a moment of real vulnerability: a city surrounded, a nation unsure, and a threat far greater than their ability to handle. Yet this chapter showcases a familiar pattern woven throughout Scripture—when human strength runs out, God’s deliverance steps in. The events at Jabesh-gilead remind the church today that overwhelming pressures, persistent fears, and seemingly unwinnable battles do not signal defeat. Instead, they highlight the need for the One who rescues, restores, and leads his people forward. As Israel cried out for help, received the salvation only God could provide, and gathered to celebrate his intervention, their story becomes a lens through which to view every modern struggle. This passage invites God’s people to anticipate his deliverance, recognize his hand when it arrives, and mark his faithfulness with grateful celebration.

There’s a kind of judgment in the Bible that doesn’t come as fire or thunder. It comes when God steps back and lets people have exactly what they keep reaching for. Most have tasted a little of that in their own lives—a job that seemed perfect but slowly hollowed life out, a choice that looked wise until consequences started piling up, a desire that promised joy but delivered something thinner and sharper. It raises an uncomfortable question: what if getting what the heart insists on isn’t always a blessing? In Scripture, God sometimes lets people walk into the future they’re determined to build, not to crush them, but to show how fragile those hopes actually are. These moments reveal whether trust rests on God or on something that can’t hold the weight placed on it. And that tension sits right at the centre of this passage.

We all want clarity in a confusing world—leaders we can trust, plans that make sense, and some sign that God is still in control. But what do we do when everything feels uncertain? When leaders disappoint us, when our own choices go wrong, and when God seems silent? In 1 Samuel 9–10, we meet Saul—an ordinary man from an ordinary family on an ordinary errand—who finds himself caught up in God’s extraordinary plan.

Through lost donkeys, chance encounters, and reluctant obedience, we see that God’s purposes are never lost, even when his people are. This passage invites us to trust the quiet, steady hand of God—to rest in his gracious rule when life feels aimless—and to believe that his redemptive work continues through ordinary people and everyday moments.