Mercy Hill

Israel wanted a king. Not because God hadn't been leading them — but because they wanted to look like everyone else.

That's what we're digging into this week in 1 Samuel 12-13. Samuel stands before the whole nation and basically says, "You got what you asked for. Now let's see what you do with it." And Saul — the people's choice — starts strong. Then he doesn't wait on God. He takes matters into his own hands, and it costs him everything.

I think most of us have a little bit of Saul in us. We want a king we can see, control, or rush when God feels slow. But the story of Saul isn't really about Saul. It's about the difference between a king the people chose and the King God had already promised.

This Sunday we talked about what it looks like to stop crowning our own solutions and start trusting the King who never needed our permission to reign.

This Sunday, we had Landon Reesor, pastor in Connecticut and father to one of our members, join us.

We live in a moment of deep political division and competing visions of leadership—and it turns out, this isn't the first time.

This Sunday, we launched King of Kings, a new series that takes us into the ancient story of Israel's kings. From Saul to David to Solomon, we'll trace a sobering pattern: misplaced hope, flawed leaders, and unmet expectations. Yet woven through every failure is a greater promise—God never abandoned His people to broken leadership.

These stories aren't just history. They're an invitation to step back from the noise of today and ask a deeper question: What kind of King do we really need?

This week, Pastor Lucius Rouzer IV of UMovement Church in Marietta joined us.

You probably didn't give her much credit at the time. None of us did.

But somewhere along the way — maybe it was a decision you almost made, a warning you almost ignored, or a value you realized you'd carried for years without knowing where it came from — it hit you: she knew things.

This Sunday, we're going to dig into one of the most underrated forces in your life: the faith of the people who came before you. The Apostle Paul looked at a young man named Timothy and said, "That thing in you? It started in your grandmother. Then your mother. And now it's yours to carry."

There's a spiritual momentum that gets passed down through generations — and it runs deeper than you think.

But here's the part that hits even harder: what if the legacy you inherited wasn't all good? What if there were cycles, blind spots, and patterns that got handed to you along with everything else?

God can redeem the past and rewrite the future. At the intersection of His grace and your faith, the story can change — for you and for everyone who comes after you.

We've been walking through the book of Acts together for a while now, and this Sunday we land on the final chapter. The last scene. The closing verses of one of the most action-packed books in the entire Bible.

And you know what's wild? It doesn't really end.

Acts 28 doesn't close with a neat bow. No grand finale. No trumpet fanfare. Luke just... stops writing. Paul is in Rome, under house arrest, and he's still preaching. Still welcoming people. Still talking about Jesus to anyone who will listen — Jews, Gentiles, leaders, strangers.

The early church didn't get a conclusion. They got a continuation.

This Sunday, in Acts 28:17–31, we're going to sit with that tension and let it ask us something important: If the book of Acts is really the ongoing story of what Jesus is doing through His people... what is He doing through you?

This isn't just the end of a series. It's an invitation.

There's something about those moments in life when you find yourself across the table — or across the room — from someone powerful, someone skeptical, maybe even someone who holds your future in their hands... and you still have to decide whether you're going to speak the truth or play it safe.

I think most of us have been there in some form. And if you're being honest, you probably know which choice feels easier.

This Sunday, we're stepping into one of the most electric scenes in all of Scripture. Paul — chained, on trial, with nothing left to lose — stands before King Agrippa and does something remarkable: he shares the Gospel. Not a watered-down version. Not a careful, politically safe pitch. The real thing. Face to face. King to prisoner.

In Acts 26:15–27, we'll see how Paul recounts his encounter with the risen Jesus, the mission he was given, and why he simply couldn't stay silent — even in front of royalty. And Agrippa's response? It'll stop you in your tracks.

In Acts 21, Paul and his team are wrapping up their third missionary journey. Paul has decided his next stop will be Jerusalem, despite repeated warnings that he will face persecution and imprisonment there. Still, he believes the Lord is leading him to go, so he continues on to Jerusalem.

It is highly unlikely that any of us will be arrested for our faith in Christ. And I don’t think the Bible is teaching us that we should pursue being arrested in order to follow Paul’s example. But we do often find ourselves in situations where obedience to God may come with real consequences. So how should we respond?

This Sunday, we step into one of the most personal moments in Acts.

In Acts 20:17–38, Paul gives a final, heartfelt charge to the Ephesian leaders—calling them to live faithfully, speak boldly, and guard what matters most. It’s a reminder that following Jesus shapes not just what we believe, but how we lead, live, and love.

It’s also a passage that asks something of us:

Are we building something that will actually last?

There’s something about this time of year that just feels like a fresh start. The weather’s warming up, the trees are filling back in, and flowers are starting to bloom everywhere you look. It’s like the world is waking up again. And if we’re honest, I think a lot of us are looking for that same kind of renewal in our own lives too.

That’s part of why Easter matters so much. It’s not just a date on the calendar—it’s the reminder that real renewal is possible. In Acts 13, Paul tells the story of God’s faithfulness through generations, and it all leads to this simple, powerful truth: God raised Jesus from the dead. That changes everything. It means hope is real, forgiveness is available, and new life isn’t just an idea—it’s something we can actually experience.