In this message from John 17:20-26, Pastor Brolin Rosquist walks through Jesus' high priestly prayer on the night of his arrest, showing that Jesus prayed for three specific things: that people would believe, that believers would be one, and that we would truly know and be known by the Father. Drawing on the observation that "our disunity is a gospel problem, not just a relational one," this message challenges Lilac City Church to pray both for the lost and for genuine, observable unity — because it's that unity, more than our arguments, that shows a watching world who Jesus is.

In 1987, a whole nation stopped for one eighteen-month-old girl trapped down an eight-inch well in Midland, Texas. Fifty-eight hours of drilling. Cheering rolling across a whole city when she came out alive. Why does that move us so deeply? Because it's an echo of a heart we were made in the image of.

In this sermon — the kickoff of our new series I Witness: Watch. Learn. Go. — Pastor Brolin Rosquist opens Luke 15:1–10 to show us the heart behind Jesus' whole mission: He joyfully seeks the lost, and parties when they're found.

Jesus eats with sinners (vv. 1–2)

Tax collectors and sinners were drawn to Jesus. The religious crowd grumbled. But sharing a table in that culture meant fellowship, acceptance, welcome — and Jesus threw the door wide open. He didn't wait for the lost to clean up. He drew them in.

The lost sheep and the lost coin (vv. 3–10)

Jesus answers the grumbling with two stories about a search party. A shepherd leaves ninety-nine to find one. A woman lights a lamp and sweeps every corner for one coin. Both stories land the same way: something lost, someone searching, and a party when it's found. The sheep couldn't save itself. The coin was even more helpless. The finding was all on the seeker.

Then comes the twist for the religious ones listening — including us. The danger for people who've been in the fold a long time isn't wandering off. It's standing safe inside with our arms crossed, wondering why Jesus keeps going after "those people." The one standing safe inside can be more lost than the one still out in the wild.

But the same Shepherd who came after you now hands you the broom. You were the one He came after first. Now you get to go after the next one.

Has God rejected His people? Paul's answer is immediate: by no means. In this sermon from Romans 11:1–10, Pastor Brolin Rosquist unpacks two realities running side by side in Israel — a remnant kept by grace, and a hardness brought on by rejecting God's call.

God does not reject the ones He called (vv. 1–6)

Paul points to himself as proof — a Jewish man, from the tribe of Benjamin, now preaching Christ to the Gentiles. Then he reaches back to Elijah, hiding in a cave, convinced he was the last faithful one left. God's answer still echoes: "I have reserved for myself seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal." Elijah's despair was real — but it wasn't reality. There was a remnant the whole time, kept quietly by grace. And Paul says the same is true now: there is a remnant, chosen by grace, not by works — because grace that requires payment isn't grace anymore.

God hardens those who reject His call (vv. 7–10)

But not everyone who sought righteousness found it. Paul describes a hardening — a spirit of stupor, eyes that can't see, a table that becomes a snare instead of a blessing. The very gifts meant to lead Israel to the Messiah — the law, the temple, the scriptures — became the things they hid behind instead. It's a sober warning: Bible knowledge, church attendance, and religious heritage can become a fortress instead of a path, if they replace Jesus instead of pointing to Him.

The whole chapter lands on one sentence: God's grace keeps the called. Not your effort. Not your record. His grace — calling you by name, today.

How does anyone come to call on Jesus? Paul walks us back through the chain, link by link — and what he shows us about Israel lands squarely on us.

In this sermon from Romans 10:14–21, Pastor Brolin Williams traces three movements in the gospel's unstoppable reach:

The Feet of the Gospel (Romans 10:14–15)

Calling requires believing. Believing comes from hearing. Hearing requires someone to preach. Preaching requires someone to be sent. The chain is deliberate, God-designed, and it runs on words — not charades. Isaiah calls the feet of those who bring good news beautiful. Do you remember who brought the news to you? That's who Paul is talking about. And now — God sends you.

The Reach of the Gospel (Romans 10:16–20)

Not all of Israel accepted the good news. But Paul fires back at every objection with Scripture. Did they not hear? Of course they did — the voice went to the ends of the earth. Did they not understand? Moses warned them this would happen. And Isaiah said it plainly: God was found by those who weren't even looking. The gospel has a way of landing on unexpected ears. Your job isn't to predict who's ready. Your job is to speak.

The Hands of the Gospel (Romans 10:21)

After all the refusal — after every objection answered and every opportunity missed — what is God's posture toward a people who keep walking away? All day long I have held out my hands to a disobedient and obstinate people. Arms thrown open. Father on the porch, eyes on the road. Waiting. And he sends you onto that road to help people get home.

The gospel we preach extends God's loving reach. His hands are still out. His heralds are still sent.

Who you call in life matters. Emergency contacts. Late-night calls. The person you dial when everything falls apart. But when it comes to righteousness — actual right standing with God — most of us aren't calling the right number.

In this sermon from Romans 9:30–10:13, Pastor Brolin Williams shows us why Israel — with every advantage imaginable — missed the Messiah they were promised, and what it means for us.

Two moves. One stone. One question: Who are you going to call?

Religion is a wrong number (Romans 9:30–10:4)

The Gentiles weren't chasing righteousness — and they got it. Israel was chasing it hard — and stumbled. Why? Because they were calling the wrong number: their own effort, their own moral staircase, their own zeal. The problem wasn't their passion. Their zeal was real. But zeal aimed at self-righteousness is still a wrong number — and it still rings to no one who can help. Christ is the culmination of the law — not its replacement, but its destination. Every commandment, every sacrifice, every prophecy was a sign pointing forward to one word: Jesus.

Jesus answers every time (Romans 10:5–13)

You don't need to climb to heaven to bring Christ down. He already came. You don't need to descend into the grave to bring him up. He already rose. The word is near you — in your mouth, in your heart. Confess Jesus as Lord. Believe God raised him from the dead. That's not a checklist. That's a call. And there is no difference between Jew and Gentile when it comes to this line: everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

One number picks up every. Single. Time.

G.K. Chesterton said it like this: "The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits." The poet stands at the ocean and lets it be the ocean. The logician shows up with a mason jar. When it comes to God's sovereignty, most of us reach for the jar. Paul wants us to reach for worship.

In this second sermon of the Romans 9–11 series, Pastor Brolin walks through Romans 9:14–29 to confront us with one of Paul's most weighty teachings — and one of his most comforting. The answer to the tension doesn't live in the middle. It lives at the extremes: God's full sovereignty and our full responsibility, both at once.

Three movements shape the passage:

• God's choice is mercy (vv. 14–18) — Is God unjust to choose? Paul slams the door with mē genoito — "May it never be." Mercy withholds what we deserve. Grace gives us what we don't. Pharaoh's hardened heart didn't catch God off guard — God used it to herald His name across the earth. God's choice to show mercy is not about your effort or your desire. It rests on God alone.


• Know your place in God's choice (vv. 19–23) — When we don't like God's choices, we step into the judge's seat and take the moral high ground. Paul will not have it. "Who are you, a human being, to talk back to God?" The clay doesn't question the potter. And notice Paul's careful grammar — when Scripture talks about mercy, it shouts (God prepared the vessels of mercy). When it talks about judgment, it whispers (vessels of wrath are simply "prepared for destruction"). This is the old theologians' word antinomy — two truths held at full strength without collapsing either one.


• God's choice is expansive, not exclusive (vv. 24–29) — For 23 verses Paul says them. Then he says us. He reaches into Hosea — a promise made to unfaithful Israel — and applies it to Gentiles who were never in the covenant. He reaches into Isaiah and reminds us that even Israel survives only by mercy. Without a remnant, we would all be Sodom. We would all be ash. The shocking thing about Romans 9 isn't that God hardens. The shocking thing is that God includes.

In a playground game called Mercy, you had to extract mercy from someone who was hurting you — beg loud enough, hurt bad enough. In the gospel, mercy isn't extracted. It's already been chosen. You are not on your knees before a God who is reluctantly waiting for you to beg loud enough. You are on your knees before a God whose very name is mercy. And His choice — long before you ever cried out — was you.

Every episode of The A-Team followed the same formula. The plan goes sideways. Bullets are flying. The van's flipped. Everything looks lost. And then the camera finds Hannibal — bound, surrounded, smiling — lighting a cigar and saying nine words: "I love it when a plan comes together." The chaos wasn't the plan failing. The chaos was used. He had a better view than you did.

That's Paul in Romans 9. Israel has rejected the Messiah. The promise looks lost. The plan looks like it failed. And with a metaphorical cigar in his mouth, Paul says: "It is not as though the word of God has failed."

In this opening sermon of the new series through Romans 9–11, Pastor Brolin walks through Romans 9:1–13 to launch us into one of the most theologically weighty sections of Paul's writing. This is heavy ground — many churches won't even preach it. But the destination isn't a debate. It's comfort.

Two stops shape the passage:

• When God's word seems to fail (vv. 1–6a) — Paul grieves for his people with unceasing anguish, willing to be cut off from Christ himself for Israel's sake. He lists eight gifts that still belong to Israel in the present tense — including the eighth gift that is not a thing but a Person: the Messiah, God over all, forever praised. God's faithfulness runs on his character, not ours.


• God comforts through his choice (vv. 6b–13) — Paul uses "Israel" two different ways in one sentence. Through Isaac (not Ishmael), through Jacob (not Esau, before either had done anything good or bad), Paul names the doctrine: election. God chooses first, freely, and apart from anything in us. And the paradox? The once-"hated" Gentile nations now receive the good news of Jesus through Christ.

Sovereignty isn't a debate to win. It's a Father to trust. God is free to choose, and his choices are always good — because he is good. If you've said yes to Jesus, God's choice of you wasn't because you would get it right or because you have the right family. He chose you because he wanted to. And his choice is good.

Nuremberg, 1945. The trial of the century rested on one thing — witnesses. Ordinary people who had seen what happened and had to decide whether to say it. Witnessing cost them something. But here's what's true about a witness: they don't decide what happened. They just tell what they saw.

In Acts 4, Peter and John have been hauled before the same religious court that put Jesus to death, threatened, and released. Jesus had already told them what they were — "You will be my witnesses." Not volunteers. Not experts. Witnesses. So what does it actually look like to be one?

In this final installment of the Becoming: The Whole Disciple series, Pastor Brolin walks through Acts 4:23–31 to unpack the fifth and final identity of a fully formed disciple — the Spirit-Empowered Witness. Most of us assume a Spirit-filled witness leads with confidence, boldness, and the right words. The early church — fresh out of jail, under threat, outnumbered — leads with something that doesn't look powerful at all. They get on their knees.

Four movements shape the passage:

• They prayed together — When the threat came, they didn't scatter or strategize. They went home to the church and raised their voices homothymadon — with one accord, one heart. A Spirit-filled witness starts on our knees, together.


• They prayed Scripture — They addressed God as Despota — total Master. They prayed Genesis and Psalm 2 back to Him, and named the opposition Jesus faced without flinching. The cross wasn't Plan B. It was Plan A.


• They asked big — They didn't ask for the threats to be removed. They asked for more boldness in the middle of the threats. They asked God to stretch out His hand to heal and perform signs and wonders through the name of Jesus. They speak. He does the work.


• God moves — The place was shaken. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly. The grammar shifts: they're no longer the actors. God is. The prayer of verse 29 is answered word-for-word in verse 31.

The straightest line between an empowered witness and a soul saved isn't through better apologetics. It's through prayer. Before you talk to people about God — talk to God about people. You are not big enough to screw it up.

We're wired for compartments. A family compartment. A friends compartment. A people-I-don't-care-to-know compartment. We're great at deciding who belongs in which box. But when a religious lawyer tried to do the same thing — narrowing down who counted as his "neighbor" — Jesus told a story that blew the compartments wide open.

In this fourth installment of the Becoming: The Whole Disciple series, Pastor Brolin walks through the Parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25–37 to unpack the fourth identity of a fully formed disciple — the Humble Neighbor. The lawyer wanted to justify himself. Jesus answered with a story where the hero is the last person anyone expected, and the road from Jerusalem to Jericho becomes a mirror for every one of us.

Three movements shape the passage:

• Pride sees "me" instead of my neighbor — A priest and a Levite see the man in the ditch and cross to the other side. You can go to church, do churchy things, and still walk past your neighbor. When your neighbor is who you choose rather than who you see, you never learn to love like Jesus did.


• Humility means serving who you see — The Samaritan was generous with his eyes, his hands, his time, his money, and his future. A humble neighbor doesn't ask "who is my neighbor?" — he becomes one.


• We see because we've been seen — We are the man in the ditch. We did this to ourselves. And Jesus is the better Samaritan who didn't drop us off at an inn — He climbed the cross. He didn't pay two denarii — He paid with Himself. "Go and do likewise" isn't a checklist. It's the love that found you flowing through you.

This Mother's Day sermon also honors the moms in the room — biological, adoptive, and spiritual — whose gut-level compassion for hurting kids rehearses the gospel in their bones every day.

There's a unique joy in giving a gift and watching someone's face light up when they receive it. That joy isn't an accident — it's a reflection of the very character of God. From Genesis to the cross, God has been giving. He spoke creation into existence. He gave Adam a partner. He gave Israel His presence. And most of all, He gave His Son. So if God has generously given us everything, what should our response be?

In this fourth installment of the Becoming: The Whole Disciple series, Pastor Brolin walks through 2 Corinthians 9:6–15 to unpack the third identity of a fully formed disciple — the Generous Steward. Paul writes to the Corinthian church not with a prosperity-gospel formula, but with an invitation: God's grace abounds to you so that grace can abound through you.

Three movements shape the passage:

• God invites generosity — Generosity is fueled by faith, not transaction. Not impulse, not regret, not compulsion — but a cheerful, settled decision of the heart. Are you a Saint Nicholas or a Scrooge?


• God supplies stewardship — We own nothing. We manage what we've been given. The seed comes from God, the supply line runs back to the Father, and stewardship is His strategy for forming you into the likeness of Jesus.


• God multiplies praise — When we live as generous stewards, we become "deacons of liturgy" — helping others enter into thanksgiving to God. Generosity expands our gospel witness, and grace multiplies into worship.

The ROI of generosity isn't a bigger bank account. It's God glorified, others blessed, and more people worshiping Jesus. Because when we truly see God's generosity — most clearly in Christ, who became poor so we might become rich — we cannot help but give.