“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind” –2 Timothy 1:7

Fear is an interesting emotion that has a quiet way of shaping our decisions. It whispers that we’re not enough, that we don’t know what we’re doing, that failure is inevitable. Over time, those whispers can become walls that keep us stuck right where we are. Yet Scripture consistently reminds us that fear was never meant to be our guide. Fear does not come from God—but courage, strength, and clarity do.

All throughout the Bible, God calls ordinary, often fearful, people to do extraordinary things. Moses was afraid he couldn’t speak well enough. Gideon was afraid he wasn’t strong enough. Jeremiah was afraid he was too young. Yet God’s response to each of them was not to agree with their fear, but to remind them of His presence. Over and over again, God says, “I will be with you.” The calling was never based on their ability—it was based on God’s faithfulness.

Fear often keeps us from stepping into the very plans God has prepared for us. We believe God has good plans, but we hesitate to reach out and take hold of them because the risk feels too great. But faith doesn’t mean the absence of fear—it means choosing to trust God in spite of it. As I share frequently, if God calls us to it, He will give us what we need to do it.

The problem is, the world defines success by results—by wins, recognition, and visible achievement. But God defines success as having a relationship with Him that leads to obedience. Sometimes success is simply taking the step, making the call, trying again, or saying yes when fear says no. Even when things don’t work out the way we hoped, God is still at work in us. Failure is not final, and it is only ever wasted when we don’t offer it to God and ask Him to redeem it. In fact, some of our greatest growth comes when we fall, learn, and get back up. As Proverbs 24:16 reminds us, “Though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.”

The only true failure is allowing fear to keep us from ever trying. God’s plans for our lives are too important to leave untouched because we’re afraid. He delights in using willing hearts, not perfect ones. When we step forward in faith, even trembling faith, we discover that God is far more powerful than our fears. And often, it’s only on the other side of fear that we truly see what God can do in and through us.

One of the phrases I often say in church is that God is calling us out of our comfort zone. And while there is truth in that, I’m not sure “comfortable” is always the right word. Through prayer and conversation, I’ve started to realize that what we cling to isn’t always comfort—it’s familiarity. Familiarity feels safe, even when it’s unhealthy. It’s predictable, even when it’s painful. We hold on to what we know because stepping into the unknown feels risky, uncertain, and overwhelming.

This is why the words of God to Abraham in Genesis 12:1 are so powerful: “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.” Notice what God doesn’t do—He doesn’t give Abraham a map. He doesn’t outline every step or explain how it will all work out. God simply calls Abraham to leave what is familiar and trust Him with what is unknown. Faith begins where familiarity ends.

I’ve seen this truth lived out in real life. I’m friends with a man who has been in and out of homelessness for years—not because it’s comfortable, but because it’s what he knows. The idea of structure, expectations, and change feels more frightening than living on the streets. And if we’re honest, we’re not that different. We may not be living on the streets, but we often cling to habits, relationships, routines, or mindsets that God is inviting us to leave behind. We don’t cling to these things because they’re what’s best for us—but because they’re familiar.

Scripture reminds us that this struggle is universal. In Exodus, the Israelites had been set free from slavery, yet when the wilderness became hard, they longed to return to Egypt. Egypt was bondage, but it was familiar. Freedom required trust. The wilderness demanded faith. And that tension still exists today. God often calls us forward, but familiarity keeps pulling us backward.

The writer of Hebrews captures this calling beautifully in Hebrews 11:1: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” Faith doesn’t mean we have all the answers—it means we trust the One who does. Stepping out in faith is not about believing in our own ability, but believing in God’s faithfulness. And this is where many of us unknowingly limit God—not in what He is capable of doing, but in what we believe He can do in and through us.

Paul reminds us in Ephesians 3:20 that God is “able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.” God’s power is already at work, but He most often requires our willingness to move: to leave the familiar; to say yes before we feel ready; to trust that obedience will lead us where comfort never could.

So the question for us today is simple, but challenging: What familiar thing might God be asking us to step out of? What steps of faith have we been delaying because it feels uncertain or unfamiliar? The unknown can be scary but it is often the very place where God does His deepest work. When we loosen our grip on what we know and place our trust fully in Him, we discover that God has been faithful all along and that His plans for us are far greater than anything we could have settled for on our own.

“For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” –Psalm 139:13 

Every one of us has a story. And that story is often shaped by our upbringing, our experiences, and the circumstances that surrounded us as we grew. Along the way, voices begin to speak into our lives—parents, teachers, friends, critics, and even painful moments we never asked for. Over time, those voices can start to define how we see ourselves.

But the question we must ask is this: Is it the right story? Who we believe we are is often the result of what others have told us. It’s easy to fall into the mold of who people say we are or who they expect us to be. Rejection, lies, and misplaced expectations have a way of quietly shaping the narrative of our lives. And before we know it, we are living out a story that God never wrote.

Scripture reminds us that who we were before and who we are currently do not always reflect the fullness of who we were called to be: Abraham; Moses; Rahab; David; Esther; Jeremiah; all of the disciples; Mary Magdalene; Paul…these are all people who found new life and a new way of life as they followed God’s plan for them.

Psalm 139:13 tells us that God knit us together in our mother’s womb. That means our lives were not an accident, and our identity was not formed by chance. The One who created us knows us more deeply than anyone else ever could. According to Him, we are fearfully and wonderfully made—designed with intention, value, and purpose.

Jeremiah 29:11 takes it even further: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. God doesn’t just know where we’ve been—He knows where we’re going. He has plans filled with hope, purpose, and a future that is greater than the labels placed on us by others or even by ourself.

One of our greatest challenge is that we often live out the wrong story.
We allow our past, our pain, or the opinions of others to dictate our identity, while God is patiently trying to reveal the truth about who we are. If we truly want to become who God intended us to be, both the narrative and the narrator have to change. We must allow God to rewrite our story and listen for His voice to guide us.

That means rejecting the false stories—“I’m not enough,” “I can’t change,” “This is all I’ll ever be.” And it means embracing God’s story—the story of a Creator who formed us with purpose, who knows our future, and who is still at work in our life today. We were not created to live out a broken narrative. We were created to live out His story—a story marked by hope, redemption, and purpose. 

So today, we need to ask ourselves: Whose voice are we listening to? And more importantly—Are we willing to let God rewrite our story? Because the best version of our life begins when we stop believing the wrong narrative and start trusting the Author who created us.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”  –Proverbs 3:5-6

This past week, I started a two-part series titled “Waiting for Breakthrough.” The truth is, waiting is one of the hardest parts of following God. We don’t mind trusting Him when the answers come quickly or when His plans align with our expectations. But when God seems silent, when progress feels slow, or when the breakthrough doesn’t come the way we hoped, trust becomes much more difficult. Yet Scripture reminds us that trusting God means releasing our need to understand everything He is doing.

Proverbs 3:5-6 calls us to trust the Lord with ALL our heart—not partially, not conditionally, and not only when things make sense. It invites us to stop leaning on our own understanding, which is often limited by what we can see in the moment. God sees the full picture. He understands what we cannot, and He is always working toward His good purposes, even when the path ahead feels unclear.

The story of Lazarus gives us a powerful picture of this kind of trust. When Lazarus became sick, Jesus did not respond immediately. In fact, He waited two more days before going to him. From Mary and Martha’s perspective, it looked like Jesus had arrived too late. Their understanding told them that the moment for a miracle had passed. But Jesus was not bound by their timeline—or by death itself. What appeared to be delay was actually preparation for something greater.

Jesus’ timing revealed a deeper truth: God’s ways are higher than ours, and His plans are often bigger than what we are praying for. Mary and Martha wanted healing; Jesus brought resurrection. Their breakthrough didn’t come when they expected it. But, when it came, it revealed more of who Jesus truly was.

Many of us find ourselves in a similar place today. We are waiting on God for answers, direction, healing, or restoration, and it feels like nothing is happening. But Proverbs reminds us that trust is not rooted in understanding—it’s rooted in surrender. When we choose to trust God with our whole heart and submit our ways to Him, we can be confident that He is guiding us, even when the road feels uncertain.

God’s timing is never early and never late. It is always just right. If you’re in a season of waiting, don’t give up. Keep trusting. Keep surrendering. The same God who worked powerfully in His perfect time for Lazarus is still working today—and He will make your path straight, even when the breakthrough takes longer than you hoped.

As a new year begins, many of us naturally reflect on what’s behind us and look to what lies ahead. The New Year feels like a clean slate—a chance to start fresh, to do better, to become better. And in many ways, that’s true. But Scripture reminds us of something even more powerful: God doesn’t wait for January 1st to offer us a fresh start.

Lamentations 3:22–23 tells us, “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

Every morning—not just every year—God meets us with new mercy. His grace is not seasonal or limited. It doesn’t reset once every twelve months; it is continually extended to us, day after day. While the world says, “Try again next year,” God says, “Come to Me again today.”

We cannot change our past. We cannot undo yesterday’s mistakes, failures, or regrets. But by God’s grace, we are not imprisoned by them either. In Christ, today is always an invitation to begin again. Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 5:17, “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

A fresh start doesn’t come from willpower alone—it comes from receiving what God freely offers: grace, forgiveness, and love. When we choose to receive His mercy and move forward in faith, we open the door for God to do new things in and through us. Isaiah 43:19 echoes this promise: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

As we step into 2026, may we do so with hearts anchored in this truth: God’s love has not run out, His grace has not expired, and His mercy has not been exhausted. Every day is an opportunity to walk more fully in the life Jesus came to give us—a life marked by hope, love, freedom, and purpose.

So today—and every day—let’s choose His grace. Let’s receive His mercy. And let’s move forward, trusting that the God who gives us new mercies each morning is faithful to lead us into all that He has planned—Because great is His faithfulness.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” –John 3:16

Yesterday, we celebrated Christmas—the joy, the songs, the gatherings, the reminders of a holy night when heaven met earth. The presents may all be unwrapped and the decorations may be coming down, but the message of Christmas remains as powerful today as it was yesterday.

Throughout Advent, we lit candles that pointed us to Hope, Peace, and Joy—all made real through Emmanuel, God with us. And as we reached Christmas, we lit the final two candles: the Love Candle last Sunday and the Christ Candle at our Christmas service. Together, these two candles remind us of the very heart of Christmas: God is love, and His love took on flesh and came to dwell among us.

John 3:16 is one of the most familiar verses in all of Scripture, yet its depth is endless. God didn’t just say He loved us—He showed it. Love motivated the manger. Love sent Jesus into a broken world. Love wrapped the divine in humanity and placed Him in our midst. Christmas is the declaration that we are not forgotten, not abandoned, and not beyond redemption.

The Christ Candle reminds us that Jesus is the Light who came into the darkness (John 1:4-5). The Love Candle reminds us why He came: because God’s love would not stay distant. As 1 John 4:9 tells us, “This is how God showed His love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him.”

And the beauty of Emmanuel is this: Jesus didn’t just come then—He is still with us now. The love we celebrate at Christmas is not seasonal. It meets us in the ordinary days after Christmas: in quiet moments; in lingering struggles; and in uncertain seasons. The cross would ultimately prove what the cradle began—that nothing could separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8).

So as we step into the days after Christmas, may we rest in this truth: we are deeply loved. And may the love we’ve received through Emmanuel shape the way we live, the way we love others, and the way we walk into whatever comes next.Emmanuel—God with us. Yesterday, today, and forever.

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great JOY for all the people.” –Luke 2:10  

Christmas brings lights, music, and gatherings that make many people feel happy—and happiness is a good, God-given gift. But happiness is often tied to circumstances: a warm fire, a present under the tree, time with family. Those things can lift our spirits, and we should thank God for them. The Bible, however, calls us to something deeper and more durable than circumstantial happiness.

Last week we lit the third advent candle that represents the joy of Christmas—not joy that comes and goes like happiness. The joy the angels speak of in Luke 2, is deeper, more secure, and more resilient. Biblical joy is rooted not in what is happening to us, but in who is with us. Christmas joy flows from the truth of Emmanuel—God with us.

The joy the angel speaks of did not come because the world had suddenly become peaceful or because life was suddenly easy. Rome still ruled, poverty still existed, and hardship still surrounded them. Yet joy entered the world because God had drawn near. The Savior was born. Emmanuel had come. Their joy was not the absence of trouble, but the presence of God in the midst of it.

This is why Paul in Philippians 4:4 was able to write while imprisoned: “Rejoice in the Lord always.” He doesn’t say rejoice in your circumstances, but rejoice in the Lord. Joy is possible because Emmanuel is not seasonal or situational. God is with us in hospital rooms and holiday gatherings, in seasons of celebration and in moments of sorrow. Christian joy is the confidence that we are never alone, never forgotten, and never beyond God’s reach.

Jesus Himself speaks of this joy when He tells His disciples in John 15:11: “I have told you these things so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” The joy of Christmas is not something we manufacture—it’s something we receive because Christ abides with us. It’s the fruit of the Spirit, cultivated in our lives as we remain close to the One who came to us.

As we reflect on Emmanuel this Advent season, the invitation is not to force cheerfulness, but to rest in God’s nearness. The joy of Christmas grows when we slow down enough to recognize that God is with us right where we are. Like the shepherds, we are invited to come and see, to worship, and then to carry joy into the world around us. Emmanuel is not just the reason for our joy—He is our joy.

“Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” –Luke 2:13-14  

The angels declared “peace on earth” at Jesus’ birth, a promise that pointed to more than a temporary lull in trouble—it pointed to the coming of Emmanuel: God with us. That announcement isn’t a naive wish that wars stop or that every difficulty ends at once, it’s the declaration that God has come to put right what is broken and to begin a reign of peace— where we can experience wholeness—through the Christ child.  

The world’s version of “peace” is fragile—treaties break, comforts fade, and the quiet we crave can be interrupted by a single call or text message. Jesus Himself makes a different claim: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” –John 14:27 

His peace is not a mood or merely a paused conflict, it’s a gift from the Prince of Peace who enters human brokenness to bring something deeper than our circumstances. When we rest in Christ’s peace, we’re not pretending the storms don’t exist, we’re trusting that God’s presence and power are greater than the storms.  

This truth shows up in Scripture again and again. Paul tells a worried Church that when we pray and give God our requests with thanksgiving, a peace that surpasses human understanding will guard our hearts and minds (Philippians 4:6-7). This guarding peace is not dependent on circumstances but on the person and work of Jesus Christ. 

Imagine the disciples in the storm, terrified as waves crash over the boat—then Jesus stands up and speaks, “Peace, be still” and the wind and waves obey. That moment shows both his authority over the chaos and the way his presence brings calm into the heart of fear. The same Lord who quieted the sea offers us a peace that steadies the soul when the battles around us rage on. It’s not a magic elimination of struggle, but a settling of the heart because Emmanuel has come and is with us.  

Lord Jesus, Prince of Peace, thank You that You are with us. Please come into the places in our lives where fear still lives and give us the peace that passes understanding as you guard our hearts and minds in this broken world. –Amen

 “For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity.” –Isaiah 9:6–7

This past Sunday we lit the first Advent candle—the candle of Hope—and it was a gentle reminder that the hope of Christmas is not the same as the kind of hope we seek when we cross our fingers and wish things would turn out a certain way. That wishful hope is tentative, fragile, and uncertain, and it lives in the realm of “maybe.” 

The hope we celebrate at Christmas, however, begins in a manger and is rooted in the reality of who Jesus is. Isaiah’s promise—“a child is born, a son is given”—wasn’t a suggestion or a nice idea, it was God’s announcement that He had entered our world to restore what was broken. This Incarnation moves hope out of the realm of wishfulness and plants it firmly in the person of Jesus.

We live in a fallen world that hands out heartbreak, confusion, and grief like unwanted gifts. But when we anchor our hearts to Jesus—The Messiah who came for each of us—hope becomes a practical presence. It steadies our hands when life rocks the boat and it gives our weary feet the courage to step forward when the path seems long and dark. 

The Bible describes this hope in different ways—as an anchor that holds (Hebrews 6:19), as a living hope that springs from the resurrection (1 Peter 1:3–4), and as the peace born in a child who will rule with justice (Isaiah 9). These images aren’t abstract theology—they describe a hope that steadies our hearts in moments of crisis, that whispers peace in hospital rooms, and refuses to let us settle for despair.

This hope comes from Divine Presence. What makes Christmas different is not only what Jesus did for the salvation of the world, but that He came to BE WITH US. He is Emmanuel—God with us—which means the promise of future restoration is tethered to the promise that He walks with us today. In the ache of loss, He wraps us in His arms; in the fog of uncertainty, He lights a path; in the numbness of disappointment, He breathes life and reminds us that there is more in front of us than what we can see. 

Jesus makes hope a present-tense reality as well as a future certainty. And we realize it’s not just “someday” language—It’s “today, even now” language. God is able to fill us with joy and peace so that our hope overflows with confidence to those around us. (Romans 15:13)

Lord Jesus, we thank You that the hope of Christmas is real and alive. You came into our world to be with us, to carry us, and to lead us forward. As we walk through this season, fill our hearts with hope. Remind us that You are near in every circumstance and faithful in every moment. Help us to rest in the hope that only You can bring and to shine that hope to those around us. Draw us closer to You this Christmas, and strengthen us with the joy of knowing You are Emmanuel—a truth that ignites hope in our hearts. -Amen

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” -1 Thessalonians 5:18

There’s something honest and true about the morning after Thanksgiving. The table has been cleared, leftovers packed away, and the noise of the day softens into ordinary time. And that ordinary time is exactly where gratitude must live if it’s to be authentic—not just on a holiday but in the everyday.

Paul’s simple command in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 is extremely broad—give thanks in all circumstances. He doesn’t say “give thanks for the easy days” or “give thanks when everything goes right.” He calls followers of Jesus to a posture of thanks regardless of our situation. Why? Because gratitude reorders our vision. It trains us to see God’s presence, provision, and purpose even when the circumstances look confusing or painful.

Here are three short reminders to help us practice gratitude beyond the holiday:

–Remember who God is. Gratitude begins with God’s character: He is good, faithful, present, and sovereign. When we fix our eyes on Him, our complaints grow quieter and our praise grows louder.

–Reflect on what God has done. Memory is a spiritual discipline. Recalling answered prayers, his rescue in hard seasons, and simple mercies helps faith and thankfulness to grow. The Israelites were commanded to remember—and so are we.

–Respond with thanksgiving in the small things. Gratitude is learned in ordinary moments: a warm cup of coffee, a friend’s text, a restful night, a child’s laugh. Paul’s command becomes doable when we start small and practice regularly.

Gratitude is like changing the lens on a professional grade camera. The scene doesn’t always change, but the way we see it does. When we focus on God’s goodness, colors become brighter and burdens blur in the background becoming more bearable because we know they’re seen and held by Him.

Lord Jesus, thank You for who You are—loving, faithful, and near. Forgive us for the times we take Your blessings for granted. Teach us to live with hearts that notice and praise You every day, not just on special occasions. Give us eyes to see Your goodness, ears to hear Your voice, and mouths that will give thanks in all circumstances. Use our gratitude to deepen our trust and to point others to You. In Your name, Amen.