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Elijah just had the best day of his career — fire fell from heaven, his prayers were answered, his enemies were defeated. Twenty-four hours later, he was hiding in the wilderness, asking God to let him die. Sound familiar? This week in our Tired series, we're looking at what happens after the win doesn't fix what we thought it would — and discovering that God doesn't meet us with a lecture, but with rest, a journey, and eventually, a whisper. If the noise in your life has gotten louder than God's voice, this is your invitation to step away and listen.
We all know what it feels like to be tired — and most of us feel a little guilty about it, too, like a stronger Christian or a more disciplined person wouldn't be this exhausted. This week we open a new series, Tired, by looking at Jesus asleep in a boat in the middle of a storm (Mark 4:35-41). His disciples panicked and accused him of not caring. But Jesus wasn't negligent — he was fully human, trusting his Father with the outcome, even in danger. You get tired because you are not God. That's not a diagnosis. It's a design. Join us as we start learning how to bring our fatigue to God instead of hiding it or feeling ashamed of it.
Ever found a group so good you didn't want to share it? We wrap up our Invisible series this week with a hard question: what happens when the group that finally sees us stops needing anyone else? From the playground to the living room, we all know the instinct to take our ball and go play somewhere more comfortable — but Scripture paints a different picture of what a healthy body actually looks like. Join us for the final week of Invisible as we ask whether the groups we love are still connected to something bigger than themselves.
Ever caught yourself softening what you actually believe just to keep the peace — or bracing for a fight the moment someone disagrees with you? This Sunday, we're looking at what happens when our real, differing convictions come out into the open, and why staying in the room together matters more than winning the argument. Join us live at 10:00 AM as we continue our Invisible series, walking through Romans 14.
We were never meant to grow in faith alone. This week in our Invisible series, we look at Hebrews 10:19–25 and the practice John Wesley called "social holiness" — the conviction that Christian faith takes shape in honest, ongoing relationship, not in private isolation. Through the image of a quilt stitched from small fabric scraps, we'll see how God forms us not by perfecting us one at a time, but by gathering us together — flaws, failures, and all — into something whole. Expect an honest look at what it costs to stay close to people, and why it's worth it.
You've been coming to church for years. You know where to sit, you know people by name, and you show up almost every Sunday. But if the person next to you had to describe your actual life — your doubts, your struggles, what's really going on underneath — could they? This week, we're kicking off Invisible, a new series about the difference between showing up and actually being known. In week one, we're in 1 John 1:5–10, asking an uncomfortable question: can you really belong to God while still hiding your real life from the people around you? We are all invited to be seen clearly enough to really grow into the likeness of Christ. Come as you are — actually as you are.
Most of us think of holiness as something private — a quiet time, a personal relationship with Jesus, me and God working things out. That's not wrong, but it's not the whole picture. In this closing week of Let Him, we look at how Paul and Peter both describe the church the same way: a single living building, stones joined together and load-bearing, built into one temple where God himself actually lives. That means your holiness was never meant to be a solo project — what happens to one part of this body happens to all of us, and what God is building is bigger than any of us alone. Drawing on John Wesley's famous line that there is "no holiness but social holiness," we ask a hard, practical question: are you becoming a holy citizen — someone who shows up, invites others in, and takes initiative when the Spirit reveals a need — or a holy solitary, content to receive without ever really being known? We close the series with an invitation to stop treating faith as a private transaction and start actually building something together.
This sermon explores the practical ways we personally work out our salvation through the transforming work of the Holy Spirit. Using 2 Peter 1:3-9, we will look at how we respond to God's grace through faith, goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, mutual affection, and love. Rather than earning our salvation, we learn how to intentionally participate in God's work in us, recognizing that spiritual growth happens through everyday choices, surrender, and faithful steps toward becoming more like Jesus.
"I was saved" can feel like the end of the story. But what if it's just the beginning? This week in Let Him, we sit with a man who waited by a pool for thirty-eight years — and the strange question Jesus asked him before healing him: "Do you want to get well?" Some of us are more attached to our excuses than we realize. Drawing from Philippians 2's call to "work out your salvation with fear and trembling," we'll ask what it actually means to receive God's rescue — not once, but every day. Salvation isn't a decision God made about you once. It's a relationship he's still inviting you into, right now.
What if the most misunderstood command Jesus ever gave is also his most hopeful invitation? When Jesus tells us to "be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect," most of us hear an impossible standard — and quietly give up before we start. But the word Jesus used doesn't mean flawless. It means complete. Fully grown. Fully what you were made to be. This week we're launching a new series called Let Him, and we're starting at the foundation: what holiness actually is, why it matters more than we've admitted, and why the only real ceiling on what God can do in you is the one you've been putting there yourself. If you've ever made peace with "I'm just a work in progress," this one is for you.
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