Adrian continues our series in the gospel of John as we explore Jesus's interaction with a Samaritan woman at a well. Together we unpack some of the cultural context that makes this encounter so significant, and the radical call that Jesus has for us to live lives that are "wells" for everyone to come and encounter him.

After a break over Christmas and the New Year, Mike picks up our series exploring the Gospel of John once again. This time, we look at the interaction between Jesus and Nicodemus - a passage that contains one of the most famous verses in the whole Bible, John 3:16: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life". We also go deeper into the phrase "born again" or "born from above", exploring it's origins in the Old Testament, and what it means to find new life in Jesus.

Adrian shares about our vision for this coming year: The Well.

A WELL TO ENJOY

John 4:14 - Jesus answered "whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

Personally | Together

A WELL TO SHARE

John 4:39 - “Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony”

Alpha | South Street | 20:20 – 20 acts that demonstrate Jesus

QUOTE

“There is an old tradition on large Australian ranches located on often-dry land that there are two ways of keeping cattle on the ranch. One is to build a fence; the other is to dig a well. What a gift it might be to a world that has become increasingly polarised and politicised if the church would be utterly committed to Jesus as our centre. No fences to keep others out, just the life-giving water of Jesus, drawing people ever closer to his presence” - John Ortberg

In our first message of 2020, Adrian explores what Jesus means when he promises us "life to the full" - highlighting the life we have in him that we are to receive daily.

A poem by Rich Bowpitt, performed at the Oasis Church Christmas Eve Communion Service in 2019.

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Into the night, light.

A universe stirred by a word heard across the ages. Home’s life outgoing to overflowing, galaxies growing and showing the love they’ve been knowing. Big bang bursting into brilliant brightness and birthing billions of beings.

Into the night, light.

Creator crafts from cosmic chaos, home honed from formless to flawless, from empty to plenty, from mess to finesse; an extravagant excess to confess the kindness of this kind of God.

Into the night, light.

From the triune comes a garden in bloom, bride and groom with room to roam and rest and reign; just refrain from tasting that tree. Slippery serpent softly suggests the word that conferred had been misheard. Man concurred, lines blurred, fruit preferred. Judgement incurred.

Home deferred.

Out of the light, night.

Home deferred, but God undeterred. A word heard across the ages echoes again: He’s coming. He’s coming.

Look for signs that define the divine design for death’s decline through this family line.

Glimpses of the garden as, from Egypt they fled, supernaturally led, to tread on seabeds and find daily bread. Pockets of paradise in battles fought and law taught and miracles wrought as home is sought. Sights of salvation in seventh-day stops and priest’s temple props and river-giving rocks; signposts in the sand to the true promised land that his hand has planned.

Yet darkness descends and silence settles, home’s outposts always “almost”; human endeavour can never forever sever the sting of sin the serpent brought in. Night and light, light and night ensnared in despair we share; awaiting an heir to answer prayer and declare he’s repaired the everywhere-tear. Awaiting an abating of the separating thing that springs from within.

Finesse left a mess, plenty left empty, flawless left formless, the promise left pending.

Night, never ending?

He’s coming.

Into the ordinary.

On an empire’s errand, an engaged but expecting maiden’s migrating.

In distant deserts, diviners decipher age-altering astrological anomalies.

Under starry skies solitary shepherds sit alongside sleeping sheep.

Scene set.

Silence.

Into the ordinary, extraordinary.

Sky split, lit with life as legions of light take flight to fill the night, the sight causing fright til the words “it’s alright, don’t fear, come hear news of great cheer…he’s here, come, draw near.”

Into the night, light.

Angels tell of Immanuel come to dwell on this first noel, the one long-awaited, the Word incarnated, the liberator whose fate is to create a new way. He’s here. Great joy; this boy, come to destroy death, defend the oppressed, free the possessed, bring true rest, be God expressed, yet born into mess. This one who’s high above all, utterly unequalled, leaves angels enthralled, yet so, so small. The true game-changer, our salvation-arranger, sin-exchanger, asleep in a manger.

He’s here.

No fable, the God who is able, born in a stable to enable this table. On behalf of the three, he’s hung on a tree; a jubilee decree to guarantee to you and to me that we’re free. Eve’s seed bleeds to intercede, and succeeds. The rolled-away-stone declares darkness overthrown, says home can be known, that you’re never alone, for he calls you his own.

And a word heard across the ages echoes again, “everyone come, night’s undone, light has won, home’s begun”.

A poem by Emma Knight, performed at the Oasis Church Evening Carol Service in 2019.

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Home.

Sorry, there's no room

There's not enough to go around you see

So please stop knocking on our doors

Let go of the oars.

I suppose you can come in for a bit

But don't talk about this, this and this.

There's too much going on right now

I'm not sure if you'll fit.

Can't you read?

The sign says ‘No Room’

Not for you.

This is our home.

A baby cries below the night sky

The sky he flung the stars into

A baby lies in a manger

In a room he doesn’t belong to

In a room he's welcomed home to

Because this thing about the manger

And forgive me because it gets a little stranger

Is that it’s not on the outside or outskirts

As the story we’ve been told and retold

But there’s so much more to behold

For the manger lies at the centre of the home

A place to behold

To make room for and gather around.

For whilst we hear there was no room in the inn

Bar humbug what a way for life to begin

What that meant was that they had to make room where there wasn’t

Make changes when it wasn't oh so convenient

For they did make room for Joseph and Mary- the refugees

They did more than pull up a pew and shove them in with oxen too.

They would have thrown out the Christmas tree

For they did more than invite them in for a cuppa tea

They allowed them to make an absolute mess

Have you ever seen a pregnant woman in distress?

They let their Christmas Day turn to disarray

And now 2000 years on I stand hear and say

Is there room for this story in your home?

Is there room for this version, this person, in your head and in your heart?

After all this baby in a manger is only the start.

For when we say we’ve found our home in him.

This king of all kings

It sets a fire in our hearts

A place to centre and hang up all our pride

Fill up our stockings with joy and good tides

To have the shame melted away

And replaced with grace upon grace.

It’s simply His Way.

So when you’re sat in your Living room on the 25th

Perhaps take a moment to ponder whilst you sit

Is there room in your life for this Bethlehem morning?

Is there room in your life for this real life story?

Is there room for another place at your christmas table?

Will you set out a plate for the one who, after all

Lest we forget

It is all about!

Because let’s be honest, the fairy lights, mince pies, cheese and wine nights can only do so much.

It’s still dark out there and the road ahead looks too hard to bare

And there lies a baby in a manger

Could this really be the one that we’ve hoped for?

A meek and mild saviour

God himself in human form

He quiets our hearts to peace in this storm.

Could this really be true rest from it all?

He cried as a baby and cried out for us on that tree

Hold your breath and count two three

For peace is being at home and Home is in him.

The one who died for all our sin.

What a baby. What a King.

A refugee.

For how can he, this manger laid baby

Really set us free

From the hurt, the shame, the darkness and grief.

Well, by taking it all upon himself

He bore the cross that we deserved

Died in pain, That’s the king I serve.

What if home was not just a building but in you.

What if home wasn’t a nice thought

Something we prayed for as a last resort.

What if home was a person

Who came not just for this festive season

But for a real life-giving reason.

The most generous gift is not found under the christmas tree

But upon it where he laid down his life, for you and for me

O come all ye get full of festivity, of feasting and gifts.

Gather round the Christmas tree,

Look in, kneel down, begin to peek at the presents.

‘This one’s for you’ the tag reads

‘This one’s for you’ come and receive

Not myrrh, gold or frankincense But God himself.

Not wrapped up as a present

But His presence.

Calling us Home

Back to him

Welcome

No need to wipe your feet

Come in.

In the final part of our three-week mini-series exploring the season of advent, Mike and Jean consider what it is to live knowing "home coming". What does the reality that Jesus will return to renew and restore everything mean for how we are to live now? How do we live in the "now and not yet", the "here and the near" of the kingdom?

In the second part of our 2019 Advent series, Rich explores the theme of "Home Revealed". Together we track the idea of home through the Old Testament and see how it comes to its fulfilment in Jesus, before exploring how we are to respond with "action while waiting" in the now.

As we head towards the Christmas season, Adrian kicks off a three-week mini-series exploring advent - the time of waiting and preparation that looks back at Jesus's coming and looks forward to His return.

In this first week, we "stare down the darkness", seeing how our world is crying out for the true home that Jesus comes to bring.

A few weeks into our new series in the Gospel of John, we pause to hear seven stories of what it looks like to seek to live lives that are "all about Jesus". None of us get this totally right, and all of us are a work in progress, but as we seek to centre our lives on Him, we find that He is enough for whatever situations we are facing. In this podcast, we hear stories from Vince, Alice, Theo, Emily, Anna, Janet and Tom.