We live in a time where we are aware of almost everything. Within minutes, we can know what happened across the world, what crisis is unfolding in another state, what controversy is trending online, and what everyone else seems to think about it. We are flooded with information. But recently I heard a pastor say something that really stood out to me: “When your awareness outpaces your agency, what you are left with is anxiety.”

I’ll be honest—I had to look up the difference between those two words. Awareness is what we know, notice, and take in. While agency is our ability to act, influence, respond, and make meaningful choices. In other words, when we know far more than we can actually do something about, it can leave us feeling overwhelmed, helpless, and stressed.

Many of us know exactly what that feels like. We carry burdens that were never meant to be ours. We worry about problems we cannot solve, arguments we cannot fix, and futures we cannot control. It’s like drinking from a firehose of information and wondering why we feel so exhausted.

That’s why I think Paul gives us wise instruction in Philippians 4:8 when he says: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Paul understood that it matters deeply where we let our minds dwell. If we constantly fill our minds with chaos, fear, and outrage, our hearts will feel the weight of it. But when we intentionally focus on what is good, true, and life-giving, resilience begins to grow.

There is an old joke where a patient says to their doctor, “It hurts when I do this.” And the doctor replies saying, “Then don’t do that!” There’s a lot more wisdom in the doctor’s response than we may realize. If endless news consumption leaves us fearful, maybe we need to set up some boundaries. If social media steals our peace, maybe it is time to step back. If certain voices constantly stir anxiety, maybe we need to turn down the volume.

Resilience is not pretending life is easy. It’s learning where to place our attention. It’s remembering that while we cannot control everything that goes on around us, we can control what we allow to shape us. We may not have agency over every headline, but we do have agency over our habits, our thoughts, our prayers, our choices, and how we love the people right in front of us.

Jesus says in Matthew 6:34, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” That’s not denial—it’s wisdom. God gives grace for today. He gives strength for today. He gives peace for today.

So perhaps the question is not, “How much more can I be aware of?” but, “What has God actually called me to do today?” Start there. Pray there. Serve there. Trust there. And let God carry what was never ours to carry.

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” -Luke 9:23

This past week, we celebrated Easter and the resurrection of Jesus. It’s always a powerful and meaningful day as we gather together to remember what Christ has done for us. For many, Easter is the one day they attend church, the one day they pause to reflect on the reality of the cross and the empty tomb. And while that matters deeply, the truth is…Easter was never meant to be confined to a single Sunday.

 The resurrection of Jesus is meant to shape every single day of our lives.

Every morning we wake up is a reminder of the new life we have in Jesus. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead is the same power at work within us. Because of what He has done, we are offered grace when we don’t deserve it, mercy in our failures, and life where there once was none. That’s not just an Easter message—that’s an everyday reality.

But living in that reality requires a daily choice. Jesus makes it clear in Luke 9:23 that following Him is a daily surrender, not a one-time decision. Each day we are called to take up our cross, to lay down our own desires, and to follow Him. And while that isn’t always easy, it is always worth it. Because the life we find in Jesus is far greater than anything we could build on our own.

It’s in the daily walk with Him that we begin to experience His peace in the midst of chaos, His calm in the midst of the storms, and His presence in the midst of uncertainty. As Jesus reminds us in John 14:6, He is “the way and the truth and the life.” Not just once a year. Not just on Sundays. But every single day.

So as the excitement of Easter fades and life returns to its normal rhythm, may we not leave the resurrection behind. Instead, may we carry it with us into our everyday lives: in our homes; our workplaces; our conversations; and our decisions.

Because every day is Easter. Every day is an opportunity to walk in new life. And every day is a chance to follow Jesus more closely.

There’s something about Good Friday that invites us to slow down…to reflect…and to really consider what took place on the cross. In a world that moves fast and distracts easily, Good Friday calls us to pause and reflect. 

Isaiah 53:5 reminds us: “But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed.”  Those aren’t just poetic words—they are deeply personal. They remind us that what Jesus endured was for us.

The truth is, it’s easy to become familiar with the story. We’ve heard it, sung about it, maybe even built traditions around it. But Good Friday isn’t meant to be routine—it’s meant to be remembered. It’s the day love was put on display in the most unexpected way. Not through power, but through surrender. Not through victory as the world defines it, but through sacrifice.

As we picture Jesus on the cross, we’re reminded that this wasn’t just something that happened to Him—it was something He willingly stepped into. He carried our sin, our shame, our failures…every weight we deserved to bear.

I think about those who stood near the cross that day—confused, grieving, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. To them, it looked like the end. Darkness fell. Hope seemed lost. I’m guessing we’ve all had moments like that—where things didn’t make sense, where it felt like God was silent, where all we could see was the pain in front of us. Good Friday meets us in those places. It reminds us that even when we can’t see what God is doing, He is still working.

And that’s the tension of this day. When we think about all that Jesus went through…it is heavy, it is sobering, and it forces us to wrestle with the cost of our sin and the depth of God’s love. But it’s not the end of the story. Even as Jesus breathed His last breath and declared, “It is finished” (John 19:30), something was being completed. It wasn’t hope lost, but redemption secured. The cross wasn’t a defeat: it was a victory in disguise.

So today, let’s take a moment to reflect. What does Good Friday mean to us? Not just historically, but personally. What does it stir in our hearts when we realize that Jesus chose to go to the cross for us? May it humble us. May it move us. May it draw us closer to Him, as we remember that Sunday’s on the way!

As we approach Palm Sunday, we’re reminded of that powerful moment when Jesus entered Jerusalem and everything seemed to be coming together. Crowds gathered, palm branches were laid down, and people shouted, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!” 

From their perspective, this was the moment they had been waiting for. The Messiah had arrived, and they believed He was about to take His throne, overthrow Rome, and make Israel great again. The excitement was real—but what they thought was happening and what God was actually doing were two very different things.

Just days later, many of those same voices would fall silent or even cry out, “Crucify Him.” Why? Because Jesus didn’t meet their expectations. They were looking for a conquering King, but He came as a suffering Servant. They were focused on political freedom, while Jesus was focused on spiritual redemption. They were thinking about their own kingdom, but Jesus was establishing His Kingdom. They weren’t wrong to celebrate—they were just wrong about what it all meant.

And if we’re honest, we can find ourselves in that same place. We praise God when things seem to be going the way we hoped, and we get excited when life aligns with our expectations. But when it doesn’t—when His plan looks different than we imagined—it has a tendency to shake us up. That’s why we need the reminder of Isaiah 55:8–9: “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways.” We see only the moment, but God sees eternity. We focus on what we want, while He is working out what we truly need—and not just for us, but for His greater Kingdom.

Palm Sunday shows us that God’s greatest victory didn’t come through a throne, but through a cross. What looked like defeat by the end of the week was actually the greatest victory the world has ever known. And the same is true in our lives. There will be moments when God’s plan doesn’t make sense, when our expectations fall apart, and when we don’t understand what He’s doing—but most often that means He’s doing something greater than we can see.

So as we reflect this week on Palm Sunday, may we ask ourselves: are we following Jesus for what we want Him to do, or for who He truly is? Let’s be people who trust Him—not just when it meets our expectations, but even when it doesn’t. Because His plan is always better, His vision is always greater, and His Kingdom is always worth it.

Jesus says in Matthew 13:16, “But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear.” In a world where we often think of blindness and deafness as purely physical limitations, Jesus points to something deeper, something spiritual.

It’s possible to have perfect eyesight and still not truly see. It’s possible to hear every sound around us and still miss the voice of God. And yet, there are those who may lack physical sight or hearing, but spiritually, they perceive more clearly than many of us ever have.

That’s what makes Jesus’ words so powerful here. He’s reminding His followers that what they’ve been given is a gift. The ability to recognize Him, to understand His truth, to hear His voice—it’s not something to take lightly. It’s a blessing.

It brings to mind the words of Amazing Grace: “I once was blind, but now I see.” That’s not just poetic language—that’s the reality of what Jesus does in us. He opens our eyes. He tunes our ears. He helps us see life, people, and purpose the way He does.

So the question we have to wrestle with is this: How well are we really seeing? Are we seeing people the way Jesus sees them—with compassion, grace, and purpose? And how well are we listening? Are we slowing down enough to hear the voice of God in His Word, through His Spirit, and even in the everyday moments of life?

Because as followers of Jesus, we’ve been given something incredibly special. We’ve been invited into a way of seeing and hearing that the world around us often misses. Not so we can feel elevated—but so we can be effective. So we can notice the hurting person others overlook. So we can respond when God nudges our hearts. So we can be part of what He’s doing in the lives of others.

Proverbs 20:12 reminds us, “Ears that hear and eyes that see—the Lord has made them both.” And if He has given us spiritual eyes to see and ears to hear, then the invitation is clear—We need to use them.

Let’s not grow dull in our hearing or distracted in our vision. Let’s stay close to Jesus, where our eyes remain open and our ears attentive. Because when we truly see what God is doing and hear what He’s saying, we won’t just be blessed—we’ll become a blessing to everyone around us.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son…” -Romans 8:28-29

The first part of that verse, Romans 8:28, is one of the most quoted verses in the Bible. We often repeat it when life feels confusing or painful: “All things work together for good.” But sometimes we misunderstand what that “good” actually is.

The very next verse tells us. God’s ultimate purpose for our lives is not simply comfort, success, or an easy road. His purpose is that we would be conformed to the image of His Son.

In other words, God is shaping us to become more like Jesus. And that shaping process often happens in ways we wouldn’t naturally choose. The ups and downs of life—the victories and the disappointments, the seasons of joy and the seasons of struggle—are all tools in the hands of a loving God who is forming Christ in us.

Peter writes something similar in 1 Peter 1:6–7 when he says: “Though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith… may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

Just as fire refines gold, God sometimes allows the heat of difficulty to refine our faith. Think about the disciples. They didn’t become the people God used to change the world by living comfortable lives. They followed Jesus through confusion, hardship, failure, and even fear. Yet through it all, Jesus was shaping their hearts and teaching them to trust Him.

The same is true for us. Often the seasons that draw us closest to God are the seasons we would never have chosen. When life is easy, it’s easy to rely on ourselves. But when life becomes difficult, we are reminded of how deeply we need Him.

So when we walk through seasons of difficulty, remember this: God has not abandoned us in the struggle. Oftentimes He is doing His deepest work in those very moments.

The goal isn’t simply that life becomes easier. The goal is that we become more like Jesus. And that is the work God wants to do in each of our lives.

A few weeks ago, I took a short retreat to spend time studying, praying, and seeking the Lord for our church. I was blessed with the opportunity to spend those days at the coast. While I was there, I often found myself simply sitting and staring out over the bay. A couple of the days were a little stormy, with high tides.

As I sat mesmerized by the intense movement of the water one of the days, I noticed something interesting. There were pieces of driftwood scattered across the surface of the water, constantly being pushed and pulled by the current. Some of the logs were tossed around by the waves, while others were carried further and further down the shoreline. None of them had any control over where they were going—they were simply going where the water took them.

As I watched that driftwood, I couldn’t help but think about how much it resembles what life can look like for many of us. The tides and currents of this world are strong. Culture shifts, opinions change, pressures mount, and circumstances rise and fall. If we aren’t careful, we can find ourselves being pushed and pulled in all sorts of directions—emotionally, spiritually, and morally—simply going wherever the current of the moment carries us.

But Scripture reminds us that followers of Jesus are meant to live differently. Hebrews 6:19 says, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” An anchor keeps a ship from drifting when the winds and currents begin to push against it. It provides stability in the midst of movement. In the same way, our hope in Christ anchors our souls. When our lives are rooted in Him—when we trust His promises, stand on His Word, and remain close to Him—we are not easily carried away by the changing tides of this world.

The apostle Paul echoed this same idea when he wrote in Ephesians 4:14, saying that believers should no longer be “infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching.” Instead, our faith is meant to grow deeper and stronger so that we remain steady even when the world around us is unstable.

One of the beautiful things about an anchor is that it doesn’t remove the waves—it simply keeps the vessel steady through them. Following Jesus doesn’t mean life will suddenly become calm and predictable. Storms will still come. Challenges will still arise. But when our lives are anchored in Christ, those waves no longer determine our direction.

So the question for each of us is this: What are we anchored to? If our identity, security, and hope are tied only to circumstances, success, or the approval of others, we will always find ourselves drifting when those things shift. But when our hope is firmly anchored in Jesus—His truth, His character, and His promises—we discover a stability that the currents of this world cannot move.

May we be people who refuse to drift. Instead, may our hearts remain firmly anchored in Christ—the One who holds us steady no matter how strong the tide becomes.

“Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first. Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.” –Revelation 2:4-5

I don’t know about you, but I’m a huge fan of the Olympics. Besides watching the athletes compete for medals—I love the stories and how they got there. One story that caught my attention this year was that of Olympic figure skater Alysa Liu. 

She was a young prodigy who began skating competitively at only five years old. By the age of 13, she became the youngest U.S. national champion. And at 16, she was competing in the 2022 Winter Olympics. But after that Olympics, she stepped away from the sport. The pressure, the scoring, the constant striving for perfection—had taken the joy out of something she once loved.

After almost two years away from the sport, she decided to return, but this time things were be different. She didn’t come back because she was chasing medals or accolades. She returned because of her love for the sport. And last week, at the 2026 Winter Olympics, I watched her skate with a freedom that seemed to be rooted in joy rather than pressure, and it was absolutely beautiful to watch.

As I listened to her story, I couldn’t help but compare it to our relationship with Jesus. In Revelation 2, Jesus speaks to a church that was doing many things right. They were persevering. They were working hard. They were standing for truth. But He says something sobering: “You have forsaken the love you had at first.” It’s possible to be faithful and busy…and yet lose that love.

I know many people who struggle in their walk with God because somewhere along the way it became too legalistic. We start living as though God is scoring us—judging our quiet times, evaluating our spiritual performance, measuring how well we followed the rules. Instead of simply loving Him and allowing Him to shape us from the inside out, we try to perform for Him and strive for a perfection that is only found in Jesus. We overvalue our works and devalue abiding in Christ.

What’s motivating our lives as Christians? Are we being driven by performance—trying to always do things the “right way” so we feel adequate? Or are we motivated by love—the overwhelming reality that He loved us first and still loves us regardless of our failures and mistakes?

When I watched Alysa skate with that renewed joy, it stirred something in me. I don’t want to follow Jesus because I feel pressured to perform. I don’t want to preach, pray, or serve out of obligation. I want to live for Him because I love Him, because I’m grateful for His love, and because being in His presence is where true joy is found.

Jesus’ words in Revelation aren’t meant to condemn—they’re meant to invite us closer to Him. “Remember… repent… return.” Go back to the beginning. Go back to the love—to why we started. Because when love is the motivation, everything else changes.

Lord, help us not to be driven by performance, but by the joy of knowing You and being known by You. Teach us to love You first, to seek You deeply, and to live out of relationship rather than obligation. May our hearts be captivated by You above all else. -Amen

I am currently preaching a series based on the Sermon on the Mount titled the Upside-Down Kingdom. In my sermon this past week I looked at Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:23–24—His command to leave our gift at the altar and first go and be reconciled to our brother or sister. It’s a challenging picture. Before worship. Before ritual. Before the visible act of devotion. Jesus says, “Go make things right.” In God’s Kingdom, reconciliation matters deeply.

The heart behind this command becomes even clearer when we read Romans 12:18: “As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” Notice the humility in that verse. Paul doesn’t say we can control their response. He doesn’t say reconciliation will always be mutual. But he does say that we’re responsible for our part. In the upside-down Kingdom, we don’t wait for the other person to make the first move. We don’t nurse offenses. We don’t justify bitterness. As far as it depends on us—we pursue peace.

Reconciliation is not just something God commands, it’s something God modeled. 2 Corinthians 5:18–19 tells us that God reconciled us to Himself through Christ. When we were far off, when we were the ones who had sinned, God made the first move. He didn’t wait for us to clean ourselves up. He sent Jesus. The cross is the ultimate picture of reconciliation—of love reaching across the divide.

In our world today, division is everywhere. Social media arguments. Political hostility. Church disagreements over preferences and issues. Brothers and sisters in Christ dividing over things that, in light of eternity, simply aren’t worth it. And yet Jesus said the world would know we are His disciples by our love for one another (John 13:35). When believers refuse to reconcile, our witness suffers. But when we humble ourselves, seek forgiveness, extend grace, and pursue peace—even when it’s hard—we reflect the heart of our Father.

Reconciliation doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened or that everything’s fine. It doesn’t mean that truth doesn’t matter. It means we value relationship more than being right. It means we refuse to let bitterness take root (Hebrews 12:15). It means we choose obedience over our pride.

Maybe today the Holy Spirit is bringing someone to your mind. A strained relationship. A harsh word spoken. A conversation avoided. Romans 12:18 gently reminds us: as far as it depends on you. We can’t control their response—but we can control our obedience. We can pray. We can reach out. We can forgive. We can take the first step.

The upside-down Kingdom calls us to a higher standard. It calls us to love like we have been loved. And because we have been reconciled to God through Christ, we now have both the responsibility and the power to pursue reconciliation with others. May we be a people who lay down pride, pick up humility, and live at peace—so that our worship is not just words at an altar, but lives that reflect the hearts reconciled to God.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” –John 15:12–13

In this section of scripture, Jesus gives us both a command and a definition of love. And this is not a suggestion, it’s the standard for those who choose to follow Him. But if we’re honest, loving like this feels overwhelming: to love consistently; to forgive quickly; to serve sacrificially; to lay down our preferences, our pride, even our rights. Left to ourselves, we simply don’t have that kind of love within us.

That’s because the love Jesus calls us to is not natural—it’s supernatural. It’s rooted in who He is. 1 John 4:19 tells us, “We love because He first loved us.” The source of real, Christlike love is not human effort but divine transformation. We cannot manufacture this love through willpower. We need a new heart.

That’s why David prayed in Psalms 51:10, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” David understood something vital: that behavior flows from the heart. If the heart is changed, love will follow. He didn’t ask God to simply improve him—he asked God to make him new. And that’s exactly what the Lord promises in Ezekiel 36:26 when he says: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you.” Through Christ, God doesn’t just command love—He supplies it by transforming us from the inside out.

Think about the disciples. Before the cross and resurrection, they argued about who was the greatest. They fled when Jesus was arrested. Peter denied Him three times. Yet after being restored by the risen Christ and filled with the Holy Spirit, these same men laid down their lives for the sake of Christ and His church. What changed? Their hearts. The love of Christ took root within them. The command of John 15 became possible because the Spirit of God empowered them to live it.

Loving like Jesus is not about trying harder—it’s about abiding more. Just a few verses earlier in John 15, Jesus said, “Abide in Me… for without Me you can do nothing.” As we stay connected to Him through prayer, His Word, repentance, surrender, and simply inviting Him to lead us, His love flows through us. The fruit of the Spirit is love, which means love is evidence of His life within us.

So the pathway to loving like Jesus begins the same way David’s prayer did: “Lord, create in me a clean heart.” When we seek His help, confess our selfishness, and ask Him to shape us, He is faithful to do that work. He softens what has grown hard. He heals what has been wounded. He replaces bitterness with compassion. And slowly, we begin to love more like Him.

We will never love perfectly this side of heaven—but we can love more and more as He transforms us. The One who commanded us to love laid down His own life first. And as we seek Him daily, He will form His heart within ours.