Hills Church

God’s holiness is not a distant, intimidating purity—it's a powerful, welcoming presence that invites us close. He doesn’t recoil from our sin or require us to be spotless before approaching Him. Instead, He draws near, offering love, forgiveness, and transformation. Confession, then, becomes a sacred act—not of shame, but of freedom. It’s hard to admit where we’ve failed. Often, we’d rather hide our sin, minimize it, or justify it. But Scripture reminds us that honesty with God opens the door to healing. Real confession is naming the sin, feeling its weight, and handing it to God. And He doesn't scold or shame—He forgives and frees.

The image we saw on Sunday of dissolving tablets in water illustrated this beautifully: like those tablets, our sin is completely broken down and removed when placed in God’s hands. Confession brings cleansing. Repentance brings refreshing.

And just as God works in us, He invites us to partner in transforming the world. We’re called to go where the "grass is brown"—places of need, pain, and spiritual dryness—and help bring life.

Prayer is powerful. When we pray, even when we don’t see the result, God moves. Our prayers change hearts, shift atmospheres, and invite the kingdom of God to break in. We pray because He listens. We pray because He acts.

This week, the Christian calendar brings us to Ascension Day—40 days after Easter—when Jesus returned to heaven. It’s a moment of both awe and anticipation. The disciples had just witnessed the risen Christ, and now, they were asked to wait. To pray. To prepare for what was to come. That waiting period—between Ascension and Pentecost—wasn’t passive. It was expectant. The disciples gathered together, unified in prayer, seeking the presence and power of God. And through their prayers, space was made for the Holy Spirit to come and move among them. This same invitation extends to us today.

We live in a time where prayer can easily be reduced to routine or reserved for moments of need. But what if prayer became our starting point? A place of alignment, listening, and transformation? Ephesians 6:18 calls us to “pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.” Not out of duty, but out of relationship. Jesus Himself often withdrew to pray—not to escape the world, but to be empowered to re-enter it with compassion, clarity, and purpose. The days leading to Pentecost offer a fresh opportunity to pause and seek God. What might He be saying about our own lives, our churches, our communities, our nation? How might the Holy Spirit want to move through us? This isn't about having the perfect words or structure. It’s about drawing near. Being open. Trusting that as we make space for God, He meets us—just as He did with the first disciples—and fills us again with His Spirit.

So wherever we are, whether in quiet moments alone or gathered with others, let’s commit to pray. Not because we must, but because we can. Because the same Spirit who raised Christ and empowered the early church is alive in us.Let’s listen. Let’s seek. And let’s be ready.

Life can feel like running a race in gumboots—awkward, slow, and exhausting. Gumboots might keep your feet dry, but they were never made for racing. In the same way, we often hold onto things that feel safe or familiar but actually hinder our spiritual growth. True freedom in Christ comes when we recognise what’s holding us back and allow God to exchange it for something better.

Jesus came to set us free. That freedom isn’t just about behavior; it’s about entering a relationship of trust and intimacy with God. One of the clearest ways Jesus modeled this was through prayer. Time and again in the Gospels, He withdrew to solitary places—mountains, lonely spots, early mornings—just to be alone with the Father and the Holy Spirit. These moments weren’t structured around public ministry but around communion. It wasn’t about checking a box. It was about connection.

We’re invited into the same rhythm. Whether it's five minutes in a quiet room, a walk alone, or a midnight wake-up where our heart is stirred, God longs to speak with us. The room, the mountain, the quiet spot—these are places where distraction fades and His voice becomes clearer. He’s not asking for perfection. He’s asking for presence.

As Pentecost approaches, many believers are coming together for ten days of focused prayer—from May 29 to June 8. You’re invited to take part, not as an obligation, but as an opportunity to join a movement of faith, unity, and expectation. In prayer, we don’t impress anyone—there’s no audience, just the Father. And that’s the beauty of it. This kind of solitude reshapes how we understand God and deepens how we walk with Him. Through it, we’re filled again with the Spirit and sent out into a world that needs the hope we carry.

Life often throws unexpected challenges our way—disruptions that seem small at first but quickly pile up, leaving us overwhelmed. In those moments, we tend to focus on what's loudest, most urgent, or emotionally pressing, even if it’s not what truly matters. Spiritually, this mirrors our journey of faith. The core message? Stay focused. Fly the airplane. In other words: keep your eyes on Jesus and don't lose sight of your calling, even when everything around you feels chaotic.The past season has brought many changes in our community—beloved friends moving on, transitions in leadership, and natural feelings of sadness or uncertainty. But underneath all this, God is still moving. He sees you. According to 2 Chronicles 16:9, “The eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him.” Even in change, His presence is unwavering.We're reminded that being a follower of Jesus means we are called righteous—not because of what we’ve done, but because of what Jesus has done for us. This truth empowers us to stand firm and continue in faith, especially when life feels unstable.There’s also a call to be open to the work of the Holy Spirit. Just like removing the lid from a bottle of anointing oil, we are invited to take the lid off our expectations and limitations, allowing God to move freely in our lives. When our eyes are fixed on Him, everything else finds its rightful place. Whether we feel confident or uncertain, full or empty, God meets us with grace and strength when we look to Him.

Jo Hood led us through a reflection on the 35 years of mainly music, a ministry that started at Hills and has since grown into a global movement. The foundation of this ministry is rooted in Ephesians 5:1–2:“Watch what God does, and then you do it... Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with Him and learn a life of love”. This passage is both an invitation and a command. We are called to live lives of sacrificial, generous love—not cautious or conditional, but bold and Christlike. This is the heartbeat of Christian ministry.

Every team member involved in mainly music reflects this calling by creating spaces of joy, belonging, and peace for families. One mother, after surviving a car crash, found comfort by singing a simple children’s song from mainly music as she waited for help—evidence of how deeply the message of hope had taken root. Another story told of a boy plagued by nightmares who, along with his mother, found peace in the church because of the calm they once felt in a mainly music session. There was also the woman whose curiosity about the team’s love led her through Alpha, to faith in Christ, and eventually to become a children’s pastor.

These stories remind us that small seeds of love, when planted faithfully, can grow into a harvest of salvation. This is the kind of gospel work that flows not from duty, but from delight in Jesus—a reflection of His sacrificial, extravagant love. We are uniquely positioned to carry out this mission - so may we be a people who love without expecting anything in return, who show hospitality when it's inconvenient, and who give generously, trusting that God will use it all for His glory.

We had Allan Taylor, the President of the Baptist Union speak to us this week calling the Church back to what should be at the center of everything we do: prayer. Going through Acts 12, where Peter is miraculously freed from prison as the Church prayed, his message reminds us that prayer is not optional—it’s vital. Sometimes we unknowingly drift into taking God’s blessings for granted. We get busy. We lose focus. But it's in the difficult seasons—the valleys—that God gently shows us where we’ve let prayer slip. Like the early church, we’re reminded that we can’t presume God’s blessing without actively seeking Him. Prayer is not just part of the Christian life; it's the lifeline. The message unpacks four key traits of powerful, effective prayer:

1. Constant Prayer – Ongoing, daily communion with God that shapes everything we do.
2. Specific Prayer – Not vague or general, but bold and faith-filled. Just like Jesus asked blind Bartimaeus what he wanted, God wants us to bring our needs to Him clearly and expectantly.
3. Corporate Prayer – There's power when believers come together in unity to pray. Whether in homes, small groups, or church gatherings, God honors the agreement of His people.
4. Timely Prayer – Peter was in immediate danger, and the Church responded. Today, there are moments when God is saying, "Now is the time to pray." We don’t want to miss the window of opportunity.

As a Church family, we’re also encouraged to pray for salvations, new leaders, and the right pastoral appointments—both locally and nationally. And personally, God may be nudging some hearts: those who were once prayer warriors but have grown weary or distracted. God’s invitation is simple—“Come back. It’s time to sharpen the saw.” This message is both a challenge and a beautiful reminder that God is still ready to move in amazing ways—if His people will pray. The Church isn’t called to do great things in our own strength but to partner with God through prayer, trusting Him to do what only He can do.

Easter Sunday is a celebration of the greatest victory in history: Jesus Christ is risen. This truth is not just a cause for joy but an invitation to reflect on the full story of redemption—from creation, through the cross, to resurrection and beyond.

Humanity’s relationship with God was fractured from the beginning due to disobedience. Despite countless opportunities to return to Him, people continually chose their own way. Yet, God remained faithful, ultimately sending Jesus to break the cycle of separation and sin.

Jesus' death on the cross was a moment of profound sorrow for His followers. Their hope had died with Him. But on Easter Sunday, something unimaginable happened: Jesus rose. Not as a distant memory, but alive—walking with His friends, sharing meals, and restoring hope. Still, in that moment, the full significance of the resurrection wasn’t yet clear. The Holy Spirit’s arrival at Pentecost, 40 days later, would bring the deeper fulfilment of Jesus’ work, as God’s presence came to dwell within believers.

The resurrection reveals the depth of God’s love—a love so great it turned a symbol of death, the cross, into a symbol of life. It invites everyone into restored relationship with God, not by being "good enough," but through what Jesus has done. His light now lives within those who believe.

This Easter reality leads to worship—not just in a church building but in everyday life. Jesus makes it possible to worship in spirit and in truth, wherever we are, because His presence is within us.

No Greater Love: When We Weep and God Still Moves

Even when love is questioned, it doesn't stop loving. Even when hearts walk away, God keeps walking toward them.

“Why does a good God let bad things happen?” It’s a question people throw out like a mic drop, hoping it silences the idea of God altogether. If God is love, why the suffering? Why injustice, disaster, grief? But instead of offering a textbook answer, we’re drawn to a moment where Jesus himself weeps.

As Jesus came down the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem, people were singing, cheering, laying down cloaks—some genuinely excited, others just swept up in the crowd. But while they shouted “Hosanna,” Jesus was crying.

Why? He saw beyond the parade. He knew the same people praising him would, days later, call for his execution. And it broke his heart. Jesus didn’t weep because he feared pain. He wept because people were about to reject the very love that came to save them. That’s the tension of Easter: celebration on the surface, heartbreak underneath. It’s a love that walks willingly into betrayal, suffering, and death—not for those who deserve it, but for those who would deny it.

If you’ve ever wept for someone who’s walked away from God—Jesus gets it. He wept, too. And those tears? They are a prayer.

Sometimes we carry a burden for people we love, and we don’t know what to do with it. Maybe we used to cry for them, but we haven’t in a while. Maybe it’s time to weep again—not in despair, but in hope. Hope that God’s love is still chasing them. Because there is no greater love than this: the Son of God willingly entering suffering so that we—and they—could know grace, healing, and belonging.

Some Greeks (non-Jews) came to see Jesus. They wanted to know more. But instead of a typical conversation, Jesus said something unexpected:

“Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

In other words: death brings life.

And then Jesus prayed. His soul was troubled. He asked the Father, “Shall I ask to be saved from this hour?”
And then answered himself, “No. It was for this very reason I came.”

That is love. Love that doesn’t back down. Love that doesn't quit even when misunderstood. Love that walks toward the cross, fully aware of the pain, fully committed to the purpose. “There is no greater love.” Not because it’s nice to say. Because it’s true. It’s a love still reaching for you, for me, and for those we haven’t stopped weeping over.

Prayer Prompt:

Father, I bring before you the people in my life who have walked away from you or never known you. I don’t always have the words. I don’t always know how to reach them. But you do. You wept over a city that rejected you, and I know you care even more deeply for the ones in my heart. Stir my spirit again with compassion and urgency. Let my tears be prayers. Let my life be an invitation. And let your love—the greatest love—find them, hold them, and bring them home.

Discussion Questions:

There’s a kind of worship that goes beyond melodies and lyrics. It's the kind that finds its voice in the middle of fear, where the weight of uncertainty looms large. It's the worship that shows up when we don’t have the answers but still choose to fix our eyes on the One who does.

Worship, at its core, is a matter of the heart. Not polished perfection, but pure intention. It’s not about having it all together — it’s about bringing all of ourselves before God: our doubts, our fears, our thankfulness, and our praise. That’s what makes it powerful.

Judah was under the rule of King Jehoshaphat — a man who, while not perfect, sought after God sincerely. When word came that multiple armies were marching toward Judah, Jehoshaphat had every reason to panic. The odds were against him. Death seemed certain.

But instead of rushing to arms, Jehoshaphat resolved to seek God first. He didn’t act out of fear— he responded in faith. He called the nation to fast and pray. The people gathered, families stood side by side, and they waited on God.

In his prayer, Jehoshaphat reminded God of His own faithfulness. He didn’t deny the fear; he acknowledged their helplessness: “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”  That’s where true worship begins — not in certainty, but in surrender.

We all face valleys. Maybe yours came with a diagnosis, a loss, a financial blow, or a relationship unraveling. Maybe it was a cyclone, a lockdown, or the heaviness of uncertainty. Worship doesn’t remove the valley, but it invites God into it. Even when singing feels like the last thing we want to do—when the lyrics are hard to believe —there is strength in lifting our voices. As Psalm 149:6 says, “Worship songs are weapons.”  They don’t always change our situation immediately, but they change us. They align our hearts with heaven and declare God's sovereignty in the middle of our mess.

And here's something beautiful: God sings too. Zephaniah 3:17 says He rejoices over us with singing. Imagine that — the Creator of the universe singing over you. So next time you're overwhelmed, when you feel like you're standing before an impossible battle, remember this: the victory might come not from striving, but from singing.

Let your worship be your weapon.

Prayer Prompt

God, I confess I often don’t know what to do when the weight of life feels overwhelming. But today, I choose to lift my eyes to You. I choose to worship—not because everything is okay, but because You are. Teach me to trust You in the middle of my battles. Fill me with Your Spirit as I sing, even when the words are hard to say. Let my praise be a weapon in Your hands. Fight for me, Lord, and lead me through this valley. Amen.

Discussion Questions

- When was a time you experienced peace or breakthrough through worship, even in a difficult season?

When we think about worship, music is usually the first thing that comes to mind. But in the New Testament, one of the Greek words for “worship” also means “to serve.” That changes the whole picture. Worship isn’t just about expressing devotion to God—it’s about how we use what we’ve been given to serve those around us.

In 1 Corinthians 12–14, Paul writes to a church that was all-in on spiritual experiences. The Corinthians were passionate, eager, and expressive. They didn’t need convincing to worship—they were already doing it with full hearts and loud voices. But in the process, they forgot something critical: worship is meant to build up others.

Paul says that spiritual gifts are given “for the benefit of everyone” (1 Corinthians 12:7). It’s not just about feeling closer to God—it’s about bringing something that strengthens others. In fact, Paul highlights that prophecy is more valuable than tongues in a gathered setting—not because one is more spiritual, but because one is more helpful.

And that’s where love comes in. Chapter 13, often read at weddings, was actually written to remind the church how to behave when they come together. Without love, worship loses its meaning. Without love, even the most spiritual act becomes empty noise.

Today, church services are often designed for a few to lead while many observe. But Paul imagined something different. “Each one should have something,” he writes—something to offer that builds others up (1 Corinthians 14:26).

So what if worship isn’t just the music or the message? What if it’s also found in the quiet word of encouragement, the shared prayer, the gift of presence?

Worship that matters is worship that includes love, service, and the courage to bring your gift—not just to God, but to each other.

Prayer Prompt:

God, awaken me to worship that moves beyond moments. Show me how to serve with what You’ve given me. Help me see the needs around me and respond with love. Make my worship more than a song—make it a life that builds up Your people.

Discussion Questions: