OBC Messages

Warnings are often ignored not because they are unclear, but because they are outmatched. Other voices speak louder—voices of confidence, momentum, pragmatism, and self-assurance. What sounds reasonable in the moment can slowly eclipse what is right, especially when obedience carries cost and delay.Scripture repeatedly exposes the danger of selective listening. God's word may be acknowledged and affirmed while still being reshaped by competing priorities. Partial obedience begins to masquerade as faithfulness. Adjustments feel small. Justifications feel necessary. Over time, the authority of God's voice is reduced from final to marginal to optional. Scripture calls God's people not merely to hear him, but to listen to him—to treat his word as decisive and sufficient. When God speaks, his voice is not one among many, but the voice that must govern every other.

Faith is often tested in quiet, ordinary moments—when the way forward feels uncertain, when waiting stretches patience, and when doing something seems easier than trusting someone. In those moments, it is possible to be sincere, active, and even religious, while slowly drifting from simple dependence on the word of the Lord. Scripture speaks tenderly but clearly to that condition, reminding God's people that faith is not measured by urgency or output, but by trust and obedience.In 1 Samuel 14, two ways of relating to God are set side by side. One is marked by restlessness, noise, and a desire to secure outcomes; the other by humility, restraint, and confidence in the Lord's power to act according to his will. The contrast invites careful reflection—not on how much is being done for God, but on whether hearts are quietly resting in him, listening for his voice, and moving forward in trust rather than fear.

Waiting is never easy. We want answers, results, and direction—and we want them now. But the life of faith often asks us to do the opposite: to wait. First Samuel 13 recounts a scene from the life of Saul, Israel's first king, standing at the edge of a crisis. The enemy is at the gates, his army is small, weak, and afraid, and the moment demands action—or so it seems. Saul faces a choice: trust God's timing or step ahead in his own. He chooses the latter, and the consequences are devastating. This isn't just ancient history. Each of us faces moments like Saul's: when patience feels unbearable, when pressure tempts us to act without God, when fear, uncertainty, or frustration threatens to make us take control. As we explore this chapter, God's people today are invited to wrestle with the same question Saul faced: Can we trust God's timing when waiting feels impossible?

In 1 Samuel 12, Israel finally reaches a moment of relief. The threat has passed, the king has been established, and the people gather in celebration. Yet instead of simply affirming the moment, God speaks—because something deeper still needs attention. Through Samuel, the Lord confronts how fear shaped Israel's choices, reminds them that he alone has always been their true King, and calls them back to a life of obedience grounded in his covenant faithfulness. This scene doesn't undo what has happened, but it interprets it, helping God's people understand both their danger and their hope. It exposes how easily fear can take hold, and how patiently God restores the repentant. As Samuel speaks, the people are not driven away but drawn nearer—invited to trust the God who has never left them and to live again under his good and saving rule.

Sermon from December 21, 2025 service. Harold Peasley preaching.

At Christmas, we often talk about what happened: a baby lying in a manger, angels singing in the sky, shepherds watching in the field. But Titus 2 tells us what the birth of Christ did. When the grace of God “appeared,” Paul says, it wasn't simply the beginning of a beloved story; it was the beginning of a new reality. Zechariah, speaking of the coming birth of Jesus, said that he would “appear … to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:79).Christ appeared “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14), and his appearing did things—things we should be mindful of, grateful for, and purposeful about.

Sermon from December 07, 2025 service. Jim Rennie preaching.

Advent begins with longing—with God's people sitting in the dark and remembering what it means to wait. And when we look back through the Old Testament, we discover that this longing isn't new; it's been woven into the story since Eden. From the garden to the patriarchs, from Moses to David, from the poets to the prophets, Scripture builds a rising expectation: Someone is coming.Today, as we begin the Advent season, we're going to trace that hope through the pages of the Bible—not just to appreciate the gift we received when Christ came the first time, but to rekindle our anticipation for what his return will bring.

First Samuel 11 drops God's people into a moment of real vulnerability: a city surrounded, a nation unsure, and a threat far greater than their ability to handle. Yet this chapter showcases a familiar pattern woven throughout Scripture—when human strength runs out, God's deliverance steps in. The events at Jabesh-gilead remind the church today that overwhelming pressures, persistent fears, and seemingly unwinnable battles do not signal defeat. Instead, they highlight the need for the One who rescues, restores, and leads his people forward. As Israel cried out for help, received the salvation only God could provide, and gathered to celebrate his intervention, their story becomes a lens through which to view every modern struggle. This passage invites God's people to anticipate his deliverance, recognize his hand when it arrives, and mark his faithfulness with grateful celebration.

There's a kind of judgment in the Bible that doesn't come as fire or thunder. It comes when God steps back and lets people have exactly what they keep reaching for. Most have tasted a little of that in their own lives—a job that seemed perfect but slowly hollowed life out, a choice that looked wise until consequences started piling up, a desire that promised joy but delivered something thinner and sharper. It raises an uncomfortable question: what if getting what the heart insists on isn't always a blessing? In Scripture, God sometimes lets people walk into the future they're determined to build, not to crush them, but to show how fragile those hopes actually are. These moments reveal whether trust rests on God or on something that can't hold the weight placed on it. And that tension sits right at the centre of this passage.

We all want clarity in a confusing world—leaders we can trust, plans that make sense, and some sign that God is still in control. But what do we do when everything feels uncertain? When leaders disappoint us, when our own choices go wrong, and when God seems silent? In 1 Samuel 9–10, we meet Saul—an ordinary man from an ordinary family on an ordinary errand—who finds himself caught up in God's extraordinary plan.Through lost donkeys, chance encounters, and reluctant obedience, we see that God's purposes are never lost, even when his people are. This passage invites us to trust the quiet, steady hand of God—to rest in his gracious rule when life feels aimless—and to believe that his redemptive work continues through ordinary people and everyday moments.

In 1 Samuel 8, Israel asks for a king “like all the nations,” revealing a temptation that still confronts us today: to trust what we can see rather than the God we cannot. The people were drawn to human leadership—Samuel's aging authority, the failures of his sons, the stability and power of surrounding nations—because it promised security, predictability, and control. Yet human rulers are fallible: they take, they exploit, and they fail. Even the best leaders eventually show cracks, and every system built on human strength alone will disappoint.This passage challenges us to see the difference between visible, fragile leadership that takes and the invisible, faithful rule of God, who provides, sustains, and defends His people. It calls us to walk by faith, not by sight, and to learn to trust in the unseen King rather than the rulers we can measure and manage.

Sermon from October 26th, 2025 service. Godsgrace Agu preaching.

We live in a world that doesn't like kings. We prefer freedom, autonomy, and the right to rule ourselves. We want control—over our choices, our image, our future. But deep down, every one of us serves something. It might be ambition, comfort, fear, or the approval of others, but none of us is truly throne-less. Someone—or something—reigns in our hearts. The question is, who?Israel wrestled with that same question long ago. They had all the signs of religion, all the rituals of devotion, yet they lived as if God's throne were empty. And it cost them dearly. But then, in one remarkable chapter, everything began to change. First Samuel 7 describes a people learning again what it means to live under the rule of the Almighty—and what happens when they finally let God reign.

If the “fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10), then we must admit: sometimes we act like fools. Many believers treat God with frivolity and approach him casually. We prefer a God who feels approachable, familiar, and even manageable. We like his love, his mercy, and his patience. But his holiness? His untameable majesty? His uncompromising purity? That feels too invasive and too judgmental. So, we smooth the edges, softening God and tailoring him to our preferences and sensitivities.The result is a tepid Christianity that speaks easily of grace but trembles not at glory, a Christianity in which reverence is rare, and awe is replaced by ease. But the God of the Bible will not be domesticated, manipulated, or disregarded. He is sovereign. He is holy. And the only right response is to bow before him.

Sermon from October 05, 2025 service. Cliff Donaldson preaching.

Imagine carrying a golden box, believing it alone could guarantee your victory. Silly, right? Yet in 1 Samuel 4, Israel treated the ark of the covenant like a divine good-luck charm, hoping to force God's hand and wield his power—and the cost was catastrophic. Thousands died, the priesthood collapsed, and the glory of God departed from their midst. This story isn't just ancient history—it's a warning to us. We can be quick to use God's name, pray the right prayers, check the right boxes, or follow the right rituals, assuming his blessing will automatically follow. Today, we'll see the danger of presumption, the heartbreak of God stepping back, and the hope of his invitation: to pursue him with humility, obedience, and wholehearted trust. The question is urgent: will we seek intimacy with God—or merely use him for utility?

Intimacy requires communication. On one hand, words need to be offered. If friends don't talk, if families don't share, and if spouses stop discussing—those relationships will weaken, fade, and eventually fail. On the other hand, words need to be received. If students can't understand their teachers, if athletes tune out their coaches, and if children ignore their parents—those relationships will suffer too.Intimacy requires communication. And we serve a God who communicates truthfully, powerfully, and clearly. He reveals himself rightly and sufficiently. He guides us wisely and effectively. The Creator of all things has always been speaking (Heb. 1:1–2). God wants us to know him—his character, his expectations, his purposes. He wants us to be saved by him, to abide in him, to live lives that reflect him, and to become more and more like him. God wants intimacy with us. So—he speaks. The question is: Are we listening?

Before the monarchy was established, Israel was surrounded by threats to its national prosperity, integrity, and identity. Foreign nations advanced, false gods enticed, and hostile alliances formed. Yet, as real as these external dangers were, the greatest threat came from within. The priesthood had become a law-ignoring, self-serving, and people-abusing institution—modelling and promoting religious apathy and disobedience instead of faith in God and service to God. With such covenant unfaithfulness in leadership, it's no surprise that Israel was enduring such dark days. Those who oppose the Lord will find the Lord opposing them.And yet, as He always does, God offered His wayward people an undeserved silver lining of hope: a road to reconciliation, a path to forgiveness, a picture of faithfulness, and an invitation to acceptance.

First and Second Samuel are epic narratives, rich with fascinating characters and familiar stories. From Hannah's miraculous pregnancy to Samuel's king-making ministry, from the theft of the ark to the fall of a giant, from Saul's tragic reign to David's paradigmatic throne—these inspired books have it all. Themes of friendship and betrayal, scandal and war, witchcraft and heartbreak, human redemption and divine intervention weave through every chapter. But beyond their dramatic appeal, these accounts also deliver foundational theology. They reveal a God who rules over nations, installs and removes kings, and remains faithful to a faithless people. Studying these texts unveils God's unmatched power, uncompromising holiness, and astounding grace—a grace first glimpsed in the supernatural satisfaction granted to those who suffer in humble submission to the God who hears.

Sermon from August 31, 2025 service. Josiah Boyd preaching.

Sermon from August 24, 2025 service. Josiah Boyd preaching.

Sermon from August 17, 2025 service. Cliff Donaldson preaching.

Sermon from August 10, 2025 service. Brian Hartnett preaching.

Sermon from August 03, 2025 service. Stephen Hawkins preaching.

Sermon from July 27, 2025 service. Jim Rennie preaching.

Sermon from July 20, 2025 service. Jim Rennie preaching.

Sermon from July 13, 2025 service. Jim Rennie preaching.

Sermon from July 6, 2025 service. Stephen Hawkins preaching.

Sermon from June 29, 2025 service. Andrew Longmire preaching.

Sermon from June 15, 2025 service. Godsgrace Agu preaching.

Sermon from June 8, 2025 service. Brian Hartnett preaching.

Sermon from June 1, 2025 service. Mike Lyon preaching.

Sermon from May 25, 2025 service. Harold Peasley preaching.

Sermon from May 18, 2025 service. Cliff Donaldson preaching.

Sermon from May 11, 2025 service. Josiah Boyd preaching.

One of the main purposes of a midterm exam is to chart the progress of the students. After weeks of readings, lectures, and assignments, a teacher may want to gauge how well the class is retaining, processing, and synthesizing the material presented. Are they getting it? Are they putting the pieces together? Are they learning?In the sixth chapter of his Gospel account, Mark describes a couple of exams taken by Jesus's disciples. These twelve men are well into their “Ministry with the Messiah” studies. They had been drinking from the proverbial firehose, having seen, heard, and experienced a significant amount in his presence. But now it's time to track their development. Are they getting it? Are they learning, growing, and understanding? And as readers witness the examination of Christ's first-century disciples, the Holy Spirit prompts us twenty-first-century disciples to check our progress as well.

Excerpt from April 27th 2025 Sunday service.

Excerpt from 2025 Easter Sunday service.

Excerpt from 2025 Good Friday Service.

While the Old Testament promised that God would one day dwell again with his people, ruling them perfectly, justly, and eternally, Mark announces that that time has come. John the Baptist knew Jesus Christ was the fulfillment of this anticipation (1:7–8). His identity was affirmed by God at his baptism (1:11), confirmed by Satan in his temptations (1:13), and recognized by demons in his ministry (1:24; 3:11). Throughout this gospel account, Jesus's royal authority is displayed in sickness healing, law interpreting, creation controlling, spirit exercising, disciple calling, and sin forgiving. And Christ himself wasn't subtle, saying that, “The kingdom of God is at hand” (1:15) and revealing “mysteries of the kingdom of God” (4:11, 26, 30).God's people had been waiting centuries for a divine monarch, one who would deliver them, unite them, redeem them, and save them. And the first ten chapters of Mark declare with a choir of voices and a crescendo of clarity: “Jesus is that king!” But how will this Ruler be received?

Though enduring unspeakable pain, Jesus did speak. From the cross he offered words of mercy for ignorant sinners (Luke 23:34), words of destiny to a dying criminal (Luke 23:43), and words of sympathy to his grieving mother (John 19:26–27). Following closely behind, came words of misery (Matt. 27:46), an agony so profound that its darkness defies human understanding. Then, with words of frailty (John 19:28), Christ's vicarious suffering reached its pinnacle.This scene, as brutal as it is familiar, offends even those who have been cleansed by his blood and freed by his sacrifice. We may be tempted to rush ahead to the words of certainty (John 19:30) and words of victory (Luke 24:6) that follow but before we do, it's wise to pause and, with the Spirit's guidance, reflect on the intimate and trusting words of tranquility the Son declares to his Father.

In the incarnation, God the Son, having existed eternally as God and with God, added humanity to his divinity without diminishing or compromising either nature (John 1:1–3, 14). So, on the one hand, Jesus Christ is, was, and always will be truly God (e.g., John 20:28; Rom. 9:5; Tit. 2:13; Heb. 1:8). We can—and should—sing with full scriptural conviction, “Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see / Hail the incarnate Deity!”At the same time, from the moment of his conception, Jesus Christ is, and always will be, truly human. At a moment in history, the invisible God became visible, and the God who is spirit became tangible (1 John 1:1–3). During his earthly life, wrapped in flesh, our Lord experienced human limitations—weakness, frailty, fatigue, temptation, pain, and death. Jesus's true humanity allowed for his great suffering, and that suffering, in turn, showcased his deep desire.

“My, God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” There may be no sentence in all Scripture that is more difficult to explain than this one. It's said that Martin Luther fasted and meditated for hours on this verse, and when he finally spoke, it was to declare, “God forsaken of God! Who can understand that?”Indeed, to fully grasp our Lord's meaning and experience in Matthew 27:46, we would have to fully grasp the mysteries of the Trinity—one God eternally existing in three equal but distinct persons—and fully grasp the mysteries of the incarnation—the union of human and divine natures in the one person of Jesus Christ. And since our earthly minds cannot comprehend such heavenly realities, God's people are backed into the corner of our finitude. There are things in this horrid scene that we just can't fully understand. But, by God's grace, there are also some things we get to understand more fully because of this horrid scene.

It is a general truism that people die as they have lived. Those who come to the end of life with bitterness, regret, and harshness are often those who have lived lives characterized by those same qualities. Alternatively, those that approach their final years and months with faith, humility, and gratitude have likely exhibited those virtues in the decades prior.In the nineteenth chapter of John's gospel, the Apostle details the events surrounding the death of the Lord Jesus Christ. It's a horrific scene littered with plotting, suffering, mocking, screaming, crying, and bleeding. But, beyond all the brutality and injustice, readers are shown the Saviour dying as he lived, full of contagious compassion and selfless love, both of which his followers are called to mimic. Disciples of Jesus Christ are to be need-seeing and need-meeting people because they belong to a need-seeing and need-meeting God.

As he neared the end of his life, Michelangelo, the famous Italian artist, wrote a reflective poem that opened with the following stanza: “The voyage of my life at last has reached, / across a stormy sea, in a fragile boat, / the common port all must pass through, to give / an accounting for every evil and pious deed.”With typical profundity and skill, Michelangelo captured the adventure of living, the delicacy of life, and the inescapability of the grave. The fact is, unless the Lord Jesus returns, death is “the common port” at which each of us will one day dock our “fragile boats.” We are all en route, not knowing how far from the eternal marina we currently sit. While that can be a depressing thought, for those in Christ it doesn't have to be. In fact, the reality of our mortality can push aside triviality and frivolity, inspiring honesty, sincerity, and urgency. This is particularly true when, listen to Jesus, we know what comes next.

Step into the awe-inspiring presence of the Lord as we delve into Psalm 99, a passage that echoes the majesty and holiness of God, just like Isaiah before the throne room of God. The earth trembles, the heavens are declaring His glory, and we stand before a holy and majestic King who is exalted above all. What does it mean to encounter a God who is holy, a God who is just, and a God who is worthy of all our worship? Come join us as we explore the profound truths of Psalm 99 as we draw deeper into an understanding of God's holiness and how it calls us to respond. Don't miss this opportunity to be captivated by the sanctity of the Almighty and to be transformed by His presence!

The final words of someone's life can be meaningful and powerful. For example, it was just before they died that Joshua called for courage, Deborah prayed for justice, Hannah sang with gratitude, and Stephen invited repentance. It was at the end of their respective ministries that Peter said “guard the church,” Paul said, “preach the word,” and John said, “Come Lord Jesus.”Final words like these can make a big impact. And if that's true of some of God's people, how much more is that true of God's Son? Considered carefully and prayerfully, his laboured words uttered from the cross are those of sympathy and tranquility, of frailty and misery, of prophecy and destiny, and of certainty and victory. They're meaningful, powerful, and potentially transformational. Through them we encounter the Lord Jesus Christ, majestically adorned in unmatched courage and love, beauty and power.

Israel was hurting economically, sociologically, and spiritually. The questions they hurl at God throughout this book—questions to which he responds through the prophet, Malachi—are dripping with childishness, defensiveness, and rebelliousness (see 1:2, 6, 7; 2:14, 17; 3:7, 8). Blinded by sin and circumstances, the people had lost sight of the character and promises of “the Lord of hosts.” They saw no evidence of his lovefor them nor his faithfulnessto them, and because of that, they were struggling to offer God the worship he demanded, the trust he deserved, and the allegiance he desired. They knew that they were called to serve the Lord but, because of the way life was going, they were starting to wonder if such labour was worth the effort. What were they getting out of the deal? Why work for a God who doesn't seem to be working for them?

As with most Old Testament prophets, Malachi was sent by God to confront, correct, and console his wayward people. When he arrived in post-exilic Judah, the remnant was doubting God's love (1:1–5), dishonouring God's name (1:6–2:9), profaning God's promises (2:10–16), and wrestling with God's justice (2:17–3:5). Israel had become frustratedwith and fatiguedby life, spiritually immature and covenantally insecure, hard-hearted and pig-headed. Their priests weren't teaching them, their crops weren't feeding them, and their God, it seemed, wasn't hearing them. So, what did they do? Among other things, they stopped giving to him. They reasoned to themselves, “If he won't give us whatwe want, why should we give him whathe wants?” And because Israel wasn'tgiving, God wasn'tblessing, and the world wasn'tnoticing. 

The Bible is clear: the God of the universe constantly, perfectly, and impartially does what is right and good. He is just. It was to God's justice that Abraham appealed when interceding for the godly in Sodom: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (Gen. 18:25). Moses sang of the Lord, “His work is perfect, for all his ways are just” (Deut. 32:4). The Psalms celebrate a God who “loves righteousness and justice” (33:5). God is just. But the fallen world in which we live isn't and when God's people inevitably experience this apparent inconsistency—whether personally or vicariously—they may echo Job's confusion: “I shout for help, but there is no justice” (Job 19:7). We've all watched greed succeed, selfishness be admired, idolatry go unpunished, and blasphemy be cheered. We've felt the plight of the righteous and seen the victories of evil and thought to ourselves, “I know God is just. But is he, though?”