New City Church | Teachings

Philadelphia was a small frontier town in what's now Turkey. It had been leveled by an earthquake and rebuilt, and most travelers only knew it as a place they drove through on the way somewhere else. In the sixth of the seven letters in the book of Revelation, Jesus writes to a church there and describes himself as the one who holds the keys: the door he opens, no one can shut.

Pastor Nate Bush looks at what that meant for a church with "little power," one whose own families had pushed some of its members out. He also looks at why so many of us spend our lives trying to earn a worth that never stays earned, through our jobs, our kids, and our marriages.

Revelation 3:7–13. Part of the series He Knows Us, from New City Church in Albuquerque, NM.

Most of us know what it feels like to go through the motions. Showing up, doing the things, keeping it together on the outside — while something on the inside has quietly gone flat.

In this message, we look at a church that had a great reputation and almost nothing left behind it. Jesus doesn't mince words with them.

You can look alive and be dead. And the difference is more urgent than we may know.

Most of us have encountered someone who speaks with total confidence about something that turns out to be wrong. The boldness makes it hard to push back. The simplicity makes it easy to believe.

In this message, we look at a church that was doing almost everything right — and the one thing that was quietly unraveling it from the inside.

Confidence isn't the same thing as truth.

Most of us can look back at ancient Rome and shake our heads. Gladiators killed for entertainment. Emperors were worshiped as gods. People exploited and destroyed for someone else's amusement.

It's easy to assume we've moved past all that. But in this message, we look at a letter Jesus wrote to a church living right in the middle of it — and ask a harder question about the world we actually live in.

The system hasn't changed as much as we think.

Most of us are waiting for things to get better. Holding on until the hard season passes, until the situation resolves, until we can finally see the light at the end.

In this message, we look at a letter Jesus wrote to a church in the middle of real suffering — persecution, poverty, and worse on the way. He doesn't promise them a way out.

He promises something better than that.

Most of us have felt unknown at some point. Like nobody really sees what we're carrying, what we're up against, or what it's costing us to keep going.

In this message, we look at a letter Jesus wrote to a church that had a lot going for it — and the one thing he had against them that was quietly killing everything else.

He sees you. And he's not done with you yet.

Most of us assume that if there's a party, we're probably not on the list. Too much baggage, too many mistakes, too far from having it all together.

In this message, we look at one of Jesus' final parables — a wedding feast where the king keeps sending out invitations to anyone and everyone he can find.

The invitation has your name on it.

Most of us have thought that if we just had a little more, things would finally feel okay. More security, more options, more freedom. It's a compelling story. It's just not a true one.

In this message, we look at one of Jesus' strangest parables — and what he says about the quiet power money has to become the thing we're actually living for.

There's a shrewder way to use it than that.

Most of us have a version of the same plan. Get a little more. Save a little more. Then things will finally feel secure. Then we can relax.

In this message, we look at a man in one of Jesus' stories who had exactly that plan — and the one question that exposes everything wrong with it.

Most of us have a running tally somewhere. Who did more, who gave more, who apologized last. We call it fairness. But it might be slowly killing the relationships we care about most.

In this message, we look at one of Jesus' most unsettling stories — and why the kingdom he describes runs on something completely different than fairness.

Grace isn't fair. And that's exactly what we need.