“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” -Acts 1:8

The mission that Jesus gave His disciples from the very beginning was to go and to be His witnesses. That call still rests on anyone who chooses to follow Jesus. This is not simply an invitation to speak words about Jesus; it’s an invitation to live a life so infused with God’s presence that others are drawn to Him. (Matthew 5:16) So we must ask ourselves not only, “Do I believe in Jesus?” but also, “Am I an effective witness for Him?” Does my life display a dependence on the Spirit that points people to Jesus?

The key to authentic witness is not Biblical knowledge or the ability to speak well: it’s power. And it’s not power in and of ourselves. The “power” is the Holy Spirit—God’s presence within us that gives us a supernatural boldness, wisdom, and faith. 

We saw this power transform the disciples. Peter, without the baptism of the Holy Spirit, denied Jesus three times, even after he proclaimed to Jesus that he would die for Him. But then in Acts 2, after being filled with the Spirit, he stood up and proclaimed the Gospel so clearly and boldly that thousands became followers of Jesus that very day. And the early church flourished, experiencing deep unity, sacrificial love, and miraculous signs and wonders through the power of the Holy Spirit at work in their lives.

Are we witnesses to everyone around us of the Gospel: the good news of who Jesus is to a world that desperately needs His saving grace? If not, where are we falling short?—What holds us back? I think there are many possible hindrances: fear, busyness, skewed ideas of what it means to be a witness. When we go through rituals and fail to draw our power from the Spirit, our witness is weak at best. If we try to witness without love, our witness is a clanging symbol: loud, but not helpful. 

The Holy Spirit always leads us back to our need for God’s intervention and help and gives us strength as we acknowledge our weakness without Him. He unifies us with our brothers and sisters in Christ. In contrast, division, apathy, self-righteousness, and shame thrive where the Spirit’s power is absent. 

This is why we have to make a conscious decision to operate in the power of the Holy Spirit. And I think it begins with humility. Just as Peter had to come to terms with his humanity and weakness that caused him to deny Jesus, we have to realize that we cannot be the witnesses Jesus is calling us to be in our own strength. This realization moves us to dependence on Him: where we take time to pray, repent, and ask God to stir up His Spirit in our lives.

If we want to see our world changed and be the witnesses God is calling us to be, we have to seek Jesus and the power that He promised us in His Holy Spirit. And we have to be ok with being surprised. The call and life God had for the disciples looked nothing like they had imagined, but it brought a power, boldness and love that changed the world.

Jesus, stir up Your Holy Spirit within each of us: we need Your Spirit, who empowers us to share Your Good News and unites us as one body (1 Corinthians 12). And fill us with Your love, which is “the most excellent way,” and makes us more than noise (1 Corinthians 13). We want to be vessels of the things that remain when all else has crumbled, the virtues that only come from You: faith, hope, and love. In Your Mighty Name, we pray—Amen

In Matthew 25:34–36, Jesus paints a powerful picture of what matters most when He returns: “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’” 

When Jesus comes to take His people home, there is really one thing He’s looking for—how well we carried out His call to love. Not how perfectly we lived. Not how loudly we defended our faith. But how faithfully we loved. That love is demonstrated in how we love God and how we love people (Matthew 22:37–39). Jesus tells us that when we care for the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger (literally: alien or foreigner), the sick, and the imprisoned, we are actually doing it for Him. When we choose to love “the least of these,” we are loving God Himself. That’s the life God has called us to live—one marked not by self-promotion or religious pride, but by sacrificial love.

Yet, if we look around today, it’s easy to see how distracted we’ve become. Many Christians are focused on the wrong things—calling out the sins of others, trying to legislate morality, or pointing fingers at who’s to blame for the troubles in our world. But Jesus told us there would always be troubles (John 16:33). He never promised that His followers would escape those troubles; instead, He said, “Take heart! I have overcome the world.” The question is, how did He overcome the world? It wasn’t through political power or military strength. It wasn’t by condemning sinners and shaming the broken. Jesus overcame the world with love. He laid down His life even for those who crucified Him (Romans 5:8).

The Gospel—the Good News—has always been about the love and grace of Jesus. He demonstrated it perfectly, and now He calls us to do the same. To feed the hungry. To give water to the thirsty. To invite the stranger in. To care for the sick. To visit the prisoner. This is not just charity—it’s discipleship. It’s how we show the world that Jesus is real. It’s how we overcome the darkness around us. We don’t fight fire with fire—we shine the light of Christ’s love by meeting other people where they are and helping where we can (Matthew 5:14–16).

The life God has called us to live is not easy, but it is simple: love God, love people, and let His love be visible in our actions. Every meal shared; every hand extended; every word of encouragement; every act of love offered: is a declaration that Jesus is alive and His Kingdom is at work all over the world. My prayer is that, as followers of Jesus, we’re not known for what or who we’re against, but for the radical love we display every day of our lives to everyone we encounter. When we love the least of these, we are loving Christ Himself—and that is the life He blesses for eternity.

This past week my heart has been heavy. Like many of you, I’ve been wrestling with the tragic news of Charlie Kirk’s murder. One of the things that grieves me most is that this act of violence happened in a nation that claims to value free speech, yet someone felt justified in taking another person’s life simply because they didn’t like the words he spoke.

But it’s not just this one story. In the same week: there was a young girl in Ukraine whose life was also violently and unnecessarily cut short; there was a school shooting in Colorado; and there are countless others whose names we may never hear because their deaths didn’t make national headlines. Every single one of those people were valued by God: and not one of them matters more to the heart of God than another. One death is not more tragic than another. Whether known or unknown, every person bears the image of God and every loss breaks His heart.

The Sunday before these tragedies, I preached on the sixth commandment in Exodus 20:13: “You shall not murder.” And, as I shared that day, the heart of this command goes far deeper than the act of murder. In Matthew 5, Jesus teaches that murder isn’t just about our physical actions—it’s also about our hearts. “Anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment.” (Matthew 5:22) Anger, hatred, and bitterness are the seeds of murder. And if we’re honest, every one of us has found ourselves with a handful of those seeds at one time or another in our lives.

This is why Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:44 are so radical, when He says: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” This means we are called to love people who think differently than us, vote differently than us, and even those who may actively oppose us. This hostility we see in our nation is not the way of Jesus. He didn’t call us to win arguments and try to prove others wrong—He called us to simply love people.

Jesus demonstrated this for us time and time again. As He hung on the cross, He prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). He loved the thief dying next to Him. He loved the soldiers driving the nails into His hands. And He loves every single person in this world, including those we struggle to love.

The sixth commandment reminds us to value life. But valuing life means more than avoiding violence—it means refusing hatred, it means laying down bitterness, and it means choosing to love even when it’s hard.

How are we doing with this command, especially in light of this past week and a half? Is there someone we’ve been harboring anger towards? Is there someone we view as an enemy? Jesus invites us to let go of that anger, to seek to forgive, and to learn to love—because every life matters to Him.

My prayer is that we can learn to be people who reflect the heart of Jesus—the one who came to give life not destroy it. May we help point others to Him through His life-changing love!

“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil… Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside.” -Luke 4:1-2, 14

When we think of deserts, we often picture dry, barren, and difficult places. Spiritually, many of us know what it feels like to be in a desert season—times of testing, silence, loneliness, or struggle. What’s remarkable in Luke’s Gospel is that Jesus didn’t stumble into the desert by accident. He was led there by the Spirit. That means the desert was part of God’s plan, not a detour from it. And when Jesus came out of the desert, He was empowered and ready to step into His ministry.

The same is true for us. Desert seasons may feel uncomfortable and overwhelming, but they are often where God does His deepest work. In the desert, our faith is tested, our character is refined, and our dependence on God is strengthened. James 1:2-4 reminds us to “consider it pure joy… whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” The desert seasons don’t have to be wasted—they can be a place of preparation.

Look at Joseph, who spent years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Those hidden years in the dungeon weren’t wasted—they were the very place God was shaping his character and preparing him to one day save a nation during famine. Or think of David, anointed as king but forced to spend years on the run from Saul. Living in caves and fleeing for his life must have felt like a desert season, yet it was there that God taught him to depend on Him fully and to lead with humility. Both Joseph and David came out of their deserts: not defeated, but prepared for the incredible purposes God had for their lives. 

So if you find yourself in a desert season today, don’t lose heart. God has not abandoned you—He is preparing you. The dry ground you walk on may very well be the training ground for the next step of your calling. You may enter the desert feeling weak but, like Jesus and by the power of the Spirit, you can come out stronger, bolder, and ready for what God has ahead.

We all have a past. Every one of us carries failures, regrets, and mistakes we wish we could erase or redo. But the reality is—we can’t go back. We can only go forward. Too often I meet people who are stuck because they can’t get over their failures. They live in a cycle of guilt, shame, and regret, never realizing that God wants to do something new in their lives.

Romans 8:28 reminds us of this powerful truth: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Notice it says all things. That includes the bad choices, the broken seasons, and even the sins we’ve repented of. God is so great that He can weave even our worst failures into a story of redemption and purpose.

Phillips Brooks, a seventeenth-century preacher, once said: “You must let God teach you the only way to get rid of your past is to make a future of it. God will waste nothing.” That’s the heart of Romans 8:28—nothing is wasted in the hands of God.

Think of Peter. He denied Jesus three times at His most desperate hour. By all accounts, his failure could have disqualified him. Yet after the resurrection, Jesus restored him and used him to preach at Pentecost, where thousands came to faith. Or consider Paul, who persecuted the church and consented to the death of Christians. God didn’t erase Paul’s past: He redeemed it. Paul’s testimony became part of the very message he preached.

The enemy wants us to dwell on our past because he knows it will keep us from stepping into our future. But God’s Word tells us something different. Isaiah 43:18-19 says: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” Dwelling on our past will only hold us back, but surrendering it to God allows Him to make something beautiful from the broken pieces.

Maybe today we feel weighed down by our past. Hear this truth: God doesn’t define us by our failures, He defines us by His grace. We can’t change the past, but we can choose to trust God with our future. As we do, we’ll discover that He really does work all things together for good.

And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ (which means ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’)” -Mark 15:34

There are moments in life when God feels silent. Times when we pray, cry out, or even beg, and it seems as if He doesn’t respond. In Mark 15, as Jesus hung on the cross, He experienced that same silence. With the little strength He had left, He cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 

He was at His lowest moment—physically broken, emotionally abandoned, and on the brink of death. And yet, no answer came from heaven. But even in the silence, Jesus models something life-changing: He still cried out to God. He still trusted His Father, even when He couldn’t hear or feel Him.

Some may not know that Jesus’s cry to the Father is quoting Psalm 22:1-5 which says: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest. Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the one Israel praises. In you our ancestors put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them. To you they cried out and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.” 

Was Jesus, in the fullness of his suffering, directing us back to this truth? Was He reminding us that we can fully trust God, even when we feel abandoned?

Silence does not mean absence. Often times it’s in God’s silence that He is the closest. God was present at the cross. He had not abandoned His Son, and He does not abandon us. We’re reminded in Hebrews 13:5 of God’s promise: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” When we can’t see Him working, He’s still holding us. When we can’t hear His voice, He’s still guiding us.

We see this in the story of Job. He lost nearly everything—family, health, and livelihood—and for much of his journey, God was silent. Yet Job declared in Job 13:15, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him.” Faith shines brightest not when everything is clear, but when we continue to trust God in the unknown.

The cross reminds us that even when God seems silent, He is still working out His purposes. What looked like abandonment on Good Friday was actually the pathway to resurrection on Sunday. If God was faithful then, He will be faithful now.

If we find ourselves in a season where God feels silent? My encouragement is to hold onto His promise: He is with us, even in the silence. May we continue to trust in Him.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” —John 15:5

I once read that our daily “quiet time” with God is more than just a good habit—it’s our lifeline. I think this is a challenging truth, because a lifeline isn’t optional—it’s what keeps us connected, safe, and alive. Spiritually, our connection to God through quiet times of prayer, Scripture, and worship is what sustains us. The problem is, our lives are busy and distracting. We rush from one responsibility to another and, often, the first thing to slip away is our time with God.

Many of us try to survive on Sunday alone, hoping the encouragement we get at church will carry us through the week. But by Thursday or Friday, we feel drained, discouraged, and disconnected. Why? Because we haven’t been staying connected to the lifeline. Just as our bodies can’t survive on one meal a week, our souls can’t thrive on one worship service a week. We need daily nourishment from the Lord.

Jesus makes it clear in John 15 that apart from Him, we can do nothing. Think about a phone that isn’t charged—it looks useful, but without power it’s just a useless device. The same is true of us without daily connection to God. He wants to be our strength. He wants to help us through all that we experience in life. But if we never plug into Him, we shouldn’t be surprised when we feel spiritually weak.

The psalmist in the first chapter of Psalms understood this. He describes the righteous person as a tree planted by streams of water, always bearing fruit. That picture shows us that staying rooted in God—soaking in Him daily—leads to strength and stability. In contrast, a tree without water quickly withers.

Maybe today we feel tired, dry, or overwhelmed. The answer isn’t to try harder in our own strength—it’s to go back to the lifeline: to spend time in silence with Him; to take time to pray, open His Word and let His truth refresh us. Even if it’s just a few minutes, that daily connection can change everything.

As Lamentations 3:22–23 reminds us: “His mercies are new every morning.” God has fresh strength waiting for all of us each day. The question is—are we making time to plug into Him to receive it?

I’ve been a sports fanatic all my life. And as a fan, I’m always wanting to see my teams achieve perfection. Whether it’s going undefeated or pitching a no-hitter, there’s something in me that longs to see them achieve the impossible. As a kid, I always lead my teams to perfect seasons…at least in my mind, I did. But as much as we love the idea of perfection, the reality is there’s no such thing as the perfect life.

Romans 3:23 puts it plainly: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” No one bats a thousand in life. No one hits a home run every time they step to the plate. We all strike out from time to time. We all make mistakes. We all have those moments we wish we could replay. But here’s the good news—God isn’t asking us to be flawless. In fact, He knows we’re not. What He’s looking for are hearts that lean into Him when we fall short.

This is why the words of the Lord to Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:9 are so powerful: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” In sports, a team’s character is often revealed not when they’re winning, but when they’re behind and struggling. The same is true for us. Our greatest growth doesn’t come in seasons of comfort and success, but in the moments when we’ve been knocked down and have to choose whether or not we’ll get back up.

Peter’s story in the Gospels is a perfect example. He looked Jesus in the eyes saying he would never deny Him. Yet just hours later, he failed—three times. But Jesus didn’t leave Peter in his failure. After the resurrection, Jesus went to Peter and restored him (John 21:15–19), and he went on to be a bold leader in the early church. Peter’s failure became the soil that God used to grow him deeper in humility, compassion, and courage.

The same is true for us. God can use our failures as opportunities for growth—if we let Him. Proverbs 24:16 says, “Though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.” What matters most to God isn’t whether we stumble, it’s whether we trust Him enough to get back up.

Our failure doesn’t define us—God’s grace does. And the beautiful thing about His grace is that it doesn’t just offer forgiveness; it empowers us to move forward. When we let Him work in our weakness, His strength shines through, and our story becomes a testimony of His faithfulness.

So, the next time you feel like you’ve struck out or dropped the ball, remember: God’s not asking us for perfection—He’s asking for us to persevere. May we learn from our mistakes and allow Him to teach us in the moment. So that, by His grace, we can get back up and keep growing in our relationship with Him!

In place of my normal devotion this week, I have decided to share a devotional sent out by our District Supervisor Pastor Steve Mickel. It’s a timely word that I think everyone should hear.

Over the past several years, I’ve heard many pastors and leaders longing to go back — back to when the church seemed central to our nation, when following Jesus felt more culturally acceptable. I understand that longing. When my oldest son died, all I wanted was to get back to “the way it was” before that heartbreak. But we know there’s no going back. We’ve changed. The world has changed. However, God has not changed — and He is doing a new thing.

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:19 NIV

There’s an image that illustrates this so well: the Choluteca Bridge in Honduras. In 1998, Hurricane Mitch dumped over 75 inches of rain in just four days, destroying all the roads and bridges — except one, the Choluteca Bridge. But when the floods subsided, the river had shifted. The bridge stood strong but no longer spanned the river.

What a picture of the church today. We risk becoming that old bridge — strong, but no longer connected to where the river of God’s Spirit flows. God is calling us to move with Him, to become the visible demonstration of Jesus in a world that so desperately needs Him.

When I look at the last chapters of Acts, I see this lived out in the life of Paul — a follower of Jesus who faced unthinkable persecution yet did more than anyone else to get the gospel to new places; wherever the river flowed.

Paul shows us three qualities that we need if we’re to bethe visible church: Courage, Compassion, and Consideration.

• Courage to stand for Jesus even when it costs us; not for our political rights or our freedoms, but for the name of Jesus – for His gospel of peace.
• Compassion that sees people as He does — not as problems to fix but people to love; rising to the occasion to care for the least, the lost, the hopeless, and the hungry.
• Consideration in the how we live out the compassion of Christ. Our actions and words would show respect and kindness, even when we disagree.

Our cities, neighbors, and even our social media feeds don’t need an angry church demanding its way. They need a church that looks like Jesus — courageous, compassionate, and considerate.

The river has shifted. God is doing a new thing. May we have the courage to move with Him and be the visible church for such a time as this.

In last week’s blog, I talked about living with a standing Yes to Jesus—a heart that says, “Lord, whatever You ask, the answer is already yes.” But today I want to explore an important truth that goes alongside that. Saying yes to Jesus doesn’t mean saying yes to everyone and everything. In fact, sometimes your yes to God will require a no to others.

We live in a culture that glorifies busyness. The pace of life never stops—work, family, ministry, social obligations—it all piles up. And especially for those of us who want to serve Jesus, there’s a temptation to say yes to every need that comes our way. We assume that faithfulness means constant availability. But the reality is, we were not created to live without limits. God, in His wisdom, actually commands us to rest—not just as a suggestion, but as a rhythm woven into creation. Sabbath rest isn’t laziness; it’s obedience.

Even Jesus, the Son of God, modeled this for us. In Mark 1:35-38, we read: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: ‘Everyone is looking for you!’ Jesus replied, ‘Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages—so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.’” 

After a long night of healing the sick and casting out demons, Jesus withdrew early in the morning to a quiet place to pray. His disciples came looking for Him, saying, “Everyone is looking for you!” But Jesus didn’t rush back to the crowd. Instead, He said it was time to move on to the next town—because that’s what the Father had called Him to do. Jesus was not driven by demands or expectations. He was led by the Father’s voice. That’s what made His yes so powerful—He knew when to say no.

When we say yes to every request, we risk burning out, growing resentful, and doing things in our own strength. But when we take the time to seek God’s direction—through prayer, rest, and solitude—He helps us discern His voice and His plan for us. He reminds us that we are not the Savior: He is. Our job is not to meet every need, but to be faithful to the ones He calls us to.

There may be times when someone asks for our time, our help, or our energy—and the Spirit will nudge us to say no. Not out of selfishness, but out of obedience. Us saying no may create an opportunity for someone else to step in help. 

My prayer for all of us is this: As we live with a standing yes to Jesus, may we also develop a listening heart—a heart that takes time to be still, to rest, and to seek His voice. May we trust that God will guide us—not only into what we’re supposed to do, but also away from what we’re not. And may we remember that even Jesus pulled away from the crowd, not because He didn’t care—but because He cared too much to run ahead of the Father’s will.

Let’s keep saying yes to Jesus—and trust Him to show us when it’s okay, and even necessary, to say no.