This week, we launch our summer worship series, We Are Still Alive and Singing a New Song, with a message from Romans 12:9–16b called "Sing Like You Mean It."

After the wind, fire, and wonder of Pentecost comes a very practical question: Now what? What do we do after we've caught a glimpse of what is possible when God's Spirit moves among ordinary people?

Writing to a young church navigating uncertainty, division, and life under Empire, Paul invites Christians not into toxic optimism or easy answers, but into a grounded hope that tells the truth and keeps building anyway. Through practices like genuine love, hospitality, shared joy, shared grief, and community, Paul paints a picture of what resurrection looks like when it becomes visible in everyday life.

This week, on Pentecost Sunday, we conclude our Eastertide series, “What Does It Mean to Be Resurrection People?” with a bold and joyful proclamation: “WE ARE ALIVE!”

Drawing from Acts 2:1–21, we explore how Pentecost is not simply the “birthday of the Church,” but the moment Resurrection bursts into the world through ordinary people filled with the Spirit. Through wind, fire, and holy disruption, the disciples discover that God’s Spirit is still moving people beyond fear, beyond division, and into courageous, compassionate community.

This message speaks directly to the life of the Church today—especially as we begin our shared summer worship journey together as one congregation. Together, we will reflect on what it means to be a Pentecost people: people who carry hope into weary places, who embody justice and love in the world, and who dare to believe that the Spirit is still breathing new life into us, our communities, and the Church itself.

Pentecost reminds us that Resurrection is not just something we believe in—it is something we are called to live.

Continuing our Eastertide series, “What Does It Mean to Be Resurrection People?” with John 17:1–11. Picking up from last week’s message, “You Are Ready,” we ask the next natural question: “Ready for what?”

This is a deeply tender moment from John’s Gospel, where Jesus publicly prays for his disciples before everything changes. Why does Jesus let them overhear this intimate prayer? Perhaps because they need reassurance that they are loved, held, and not abandoned as they prepare for the work ahead.

What does it mean to become a prayed-for people, rooted in grace and sent into the world as witnesses of resurrection, justice, compassion, and hope as we move closer to Pentecost?

As Jesus prepares his disciples for what lies ahead, he offers not exclusion, but trust. In John 14:15–27, we are reminded that the work of love, healing, and belonging does not end with him, but it continues through us. This week, we’ll explore what it means to live as Resurrection people, rooted in relationship with God and one another, and empowered by the Spirit to carry forward a faith that is bold, inclusive, and alive.

This week we explore John 14:1–14 through the voices of Thomas and Philip: the disciples bold enough to ask the questions we still carry today. “How do we know the way?” Rather than offering rigid answers or drawing lines of exclusion, Jesus responds with an invitation: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

Together, we’ll reclaim these words not as tools for gatekeeping, but as a call into a life rooted in love, connection, and belonging. What does it mean to follow the Way of Jesus in a world that often narrows and divides? And how might we, as Resurrection people, live in ways that widen the circle and reflect God’s expansive grace?

“We had hoped…”

In this powerful post-resurrection story, two disciples walk away from everything they thought they understood all while grieving, confused, and unsure what comes next. And yet, without their knowing, Jesus walks beside them. This week’s message reminds us that faith isn’t about always recognizing Christ in the moment, but trusting that we are never walking alone.

In the days after Easter, when the alleluias begin to fade and the world still feels uncertain, we might find ourselves asking: Now what? In John 20:19–31, we encounter Thomas—not as a symbol of doubt to avoid, but as a companion in faith. His questions echo our own as we try to make sense of resurrection in a world that hasn’t fully changed. This Sunday, we’ll explore what it means to be an Easter people who don’t have all the answers, but who continue to show up, seek Christ, and bear witness to resurrection in our everyday lives.

The tomb is empty. Love wins. Now what?

This Easter sermon is a bold, joy-filled proclamation that resurrection is not just something we believe—it’s something we live. In a world marked by grief and brokenness, we are called to rise, to act, and to bear witness to the transforming power of love.

Because resurrection isn’t the end of the story.

It’s the beginning of ours.

Palm Sunday isn’t just a celebration — it’s a moment of courage. As Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds cry out “Hosanna,” a word that means both praise and a plea: Save us. But this isn’t a quiet or safe moment. It’s a public, risky act of hope in the shadow of empire. In this final message of our Lenten series Bearing Witness, we explore what it means to practice love in public — a love that shows up, speaks out, and refuses to stay hidden. What does it look like to follow Jesus not just in belief, but in bold, visible, courageous love? And what might it mean to walk into Holy Week ready to bear witness — not just to celebration, but to the full story?

This week in our Lenten series Bearing Witness, we explore what it means to bear witness to hope in a world surrounded by death-dealing systems, despair, and exhaustion. In today’s reading of the Gospel (John 11:1-45), John’s story of Lazarus unfolds slowly in the shadow of grief. Mary and Martha mourn the loss of their brother, and even Jesus himself weeps at the tomb. Yet in the midst of that sorrow, Jesus speaks a powerful word of life: “Lazarus, come out.” Jesus does not ignore the pain of his friends, nor does he offer easy explanations for suffering. Instead, he meets people in their grief and still calls life forth from the tomb.