Pacific Crossroads Church South Bay

Occasionally Jesus says things so enormous that we tend to read right past them. This week we come to just such an occasion in our Upper Room series. Jesus offers what sounds like a genie-in-a-lamp granting wishes: "Ask anything you want, in my name, and I will do it." Can we take this seriously? Skeptics point out that this is demonstrably false. Charlatans tell you to send money and your prayers will come true. As a result, many Christians downplay (or outright ignore) an incredible gift from Jesus: prayer. We find it impractical or treat it as a last resort. So what are we missing? If it's so impractical, why would the fishermen and tax collectors ask Jesus to teach them to pray? Let's talk about one of the greatest promises Jesus ever gave: "Whatever You Ask"  

Virtually everyone loves how welcoming and caring Jesus is. He welcomes sick and outcast and hurting and overlooked. And yet, from time to time, he makes these incredibly exclusive statements that can seem offputting or even harsh. Many in our society take deep offense when these kinds of phrases are invoked - almost as a hammer - to crush or quiet others. It feels to them so much unlike the Jesus who is so welcoming. So how do these things fits together? How can Jesus be so inclusive and so exclusive at the same time? And why is that 'Good' News? Let's talk about how the Gospel is personal, exclusive and inclusive all at the same time: "If You Had Known Me" (

Home sweet home. Home is where the heart is. There's no place like home. Make yourself at home. You can't go home again. As Maya Angelou said, "The ache for home lives in all of us." This week we continue our series on the Upper Room. Having washed their feet, Jesus now begins to actively comfort his disciples. Why? Because he knows he dies tomorrow. And there's only one reason they've left everything to follow him: he is their home. They are about to become homeless. No job, no riches, no romance can fill that void. Do you know that feeling? It's a pain of loss that cannot be avoided. So what comfort and hope does Jesus give them? Let's talk about how Jesus speaks to "Troubled Hearts" (John 14:1-6).

This Sunday we start a new series on the Upper Room. It was the last night before Jesus' death. He knew it was coming. So what would he talk to them about? Only the most important things; things he wanted etched in their minds; very practical things like... the Trinity? prayer? and footwashing? Yes. This summer we are diving into the beauty of what Jesus was gifting his followers that night and why it is meant to be incredibly practical. So let's kick it off this Mother's Day with footwashing: "Getting the Royal Treatment"

How much longer can we endure? Whether it's waiting in line at the DMV, trying to calm a crying toddler in the backseat of our car, seeing how long we can run before we take a breather, or waiting patiently for the prayer to end as the food on the table is calling our name, we all have different situations where we are called to endure. But what kind of endurance is needed when we are struggling spiritually or in a season of discouragement? This Sunday, we will find ourselves in Hebrews 12:1-3 where the writer is encouraging his readers to “Run with Endurance” in this journey of faith. Let us come together and fix our eyes on Him, the Champion of our faith, who endured on our behalf, so that we could run this race with endurance.

This weekend our Global Outreach team welcomes Stephen Jones, one of our ministry partners from London. He is a pastor and counselor, serving West London as a window to the world. In particular, their counseling services open doors to communities that might not otherwise consider the Gospel. On Sunday morning he will present more details about how he and his wife are caring for their community. As many know, counseling is about walking with people through the wilderness of their lives. And often that is precisely how God sends us in his love. Join us as we hear how "God Soothes Us and Sends Us to the Wilderness"  

As part of our brief Easter mini-series, we are turning to John's account of the resurrection. The women come to the tomb expecting to care for Jesus' corpse. But instead of a lifeless body, they find an empty tomb. Panic ensues. They report back. Peter and John run. The burial clothes remain... untouched. How? They go home with their minds racing. Outside, Mary Magdalene stands weeping. She looks inside. Two strangers ask: "Why are you crying? Whom do you seek?" She turns and sees the gardener. Maybe he knows where the body is. "Mary." Teacher! She clings. But he sends her... with the greatest news ever told. That is why we gather this Sunday (and every Sunday). Let's talk about the news that not even death can stop: "Why are you crying?"

Jesus' arrest has always fascinated me - especially the irony of his power and humility. In a moment of such enormous justice, with so much power available to me, would I have let it happen? I struggle to resist letting customer service hear my mind... how could I keep quiet in a moment like that? Yet this is exactly how Jesus shows us who He is. After our series on David's failed kingship, let's look at the real King - and why it simultaneously scares us and thrills us to be under a king like this. "I Am He"

This Sunday we finish our series on the Life of David, so we'll ponder the big picture: what is David's lasting legacy? David offers to build God a 'house' -- a request which God quickly flips on him. Yet the 'house' God will build for David is a permanent one, a dynasty. Considering all of David's enormous failures we've detailed the last few weeks, this promise invites stark questions. And these are not questions asked in a vacuum, but the same ones we ask in our own lives: with the mess I've made of my life, did his promise fail? Is God still with me? If so, why do I so often feel the opposite? Asking these questions points David (and us!) to his joy. So let's talk about "David's Dynasty"  

Game of Thrones. Succession. Yellowstone. Billions. So many hit TV shows depict social elites vying for power, often against their own family, with numerous surprise twists. But it's nothing new. As we continue our series on the Life of David, his children have gotten old enough to enter the drama. Absalom enters the chat, as they say. And if I simply stated the facts that happen next, I'm confident it would trip your email censors. So two thoughts: why are we drawn to shows and stories like this? And how in the world is God at work in them? Frankly, this is not a classroom exercise. When David cries over his son, there's a reason we tend to cry with him. How is God meeting us in their drama and ours? Let's talk about "Absalom! Absalom!"

This week we come to an admittedly weird passage. David takes a census. It's not entirely clear why that is wrong... but it is. David later realizes his sin and confesses it. Then God gives him a multiple choice of terrifying consequences? Talk about a "pick your poison" moment! But why would God do that? It seems almost sadistic to us. Yet David clearly reads it as a gift of grace. How can events that we normally read as evidence of God's untrustworthiness in our lives lead David to trust God all the more? Let's talk about how David's senseless census reveals "Wrath Wrapped in Mercy"

Last Sunday was David and Bathsheba. This Sunday comes the fallout. God pronounces forgiveness, but David's son will die. Is God punishing him - through his child's suffering?! Is that really how God does justice? Tragically, these are the kinds of questions I've heard families ask before. And it has David on the ground. He won't get up. He doesn't get up until after he learns his son is dead. But then... he goes immediately to worship? How is he not simply overcome with anger at God or paralyzed with grief? What hope does David have that we so desperately need? Let's talk about why we so often misunderstand our suffering and what God is doing in the midst of it: "I shall go to him" (2 Sam.12:13-25)

David and Bathsheba. This is the turning point in David's life. All commentators point to this event. Everything he touched before this turned to gold. But the decisions he makes here begin to unravel his life. How could he do this? The negligence. The betrayal. The failed cover up. The murder. This slide began long before he went up on that roof. Is this the 'man after God's own heart'? The most dangerous thing we could say here is "I would never do that!" (Remember: the religious leaders said the same before killing Jesus.) This account does not exist for us to roast David, but rather to ask where Nathan could also say to us: "You are that man!" (2 Sam.11:1-15; 12:1-7a) So what hope is available for murderers and adulterers and self-righteous hypocrites? The same hope we will celebrate at the Lord's Supper this Sunday. 

Ruthlessly eliminate all competition. That's the way of American business, sports, romance, and especially politics. Take the power and money and stuff don't ever give it back. It was very much the same in the ancient world. Enter Mephibosheth... Saul's grandson... Jonathan's son... the last living member of David's rival dynasty. So what does David do about him? Unthinkably, he shows him kindness. He doesn't do this to get Mephibosheth to lower his guard so David can off him. No, he genuinely seeks to show him long-term kindness, even giving him a place at his own table for decades. It's not a show. It's not a flash in the pan. It's an ongoing seat at his table. Why does that sort of kindness create a crisis for us - one of repayment or fear? At a time when our nation is deeply divided over much more than just politics, where do we get a kindness like this, even for our rivals? And how can it begin to heal us? Let's talk about Mephibosheth "At the King's Table"

"Random smite function." That's what one of my old students called it whenever God seems to just reach down and off someone in some shocking way in the Scriptures. It's terrifying - and not just for what could happen to us but also for what it seems to imply about who God is. How could we ever approach a God like that? Would you even want to? This week we come to the death of Uzzah, a seemingly well-meaning guy who just reaches out and touches the ark to keep it from falling out of the ox cart. And he's zapped. Dead. Instantly. No wonder skeptics say: 'who would worship a god like that?!' But also note well: who would make up a god like that? If this is the living God, how could that be good news for us? Let's talk about the terrifying and terrific joy of coming into the presence of the living God. "You Can't Touch This" (2 Samuel 6:1-15).

Is it greater to be feared or loved? What does our culture value? And what does it mean to fear God? Tim Keller said, “The fear of God means to be affected deeply by who God is and what he did.” This Sunday's passage in 2 Samuel 23 is a fascinating story that takes place in a desolate cave and out in the battlefield. King David's most trusted leaders risk their lives to get him a cup of water. Do they do this out of fear or out of love? And how could David then take this cup and pour it out? Join us this Sunday as we unpack this story, and how it points to the King of Kings, who poured Himself out to us, so that we can draw near to Him. 

This week we are taking a break from our series in the Life of David for a wonderful reason. Our global outreach partners, Mike & Caryn DiGena, are visiting with us from Lyon, France. They will be sharing about the work the Lord is doing there among them, and Mike will preach on Galatians 2:19-20 - "Free to Live the Impossible." I personally have found that it seems easier for me to identify what God is doing in other places, yet it often leads to awakening to things I had overlooked that he is doing locally and in my life. May we see Jesus more clearly as we hear of His work among our brothers and sisters in France! May it be in France and in the South Bay as it is in heaven.

Mother Teresa said, "Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty." Even in a region as affluent as the South Bay, that quote resonates. Why? We long for something deep and soul-satisfying in friendship. When the Scriptures say that Jonathan and David's souls were "knit together," it evokes an envious ache within many of us. These two men walked together through hard situations that would seemingly have made them bitter enemies instead. What sustained them? How do we get that kind of friendship? Are there certain ingredients? And if so, where might I need to rethink how I "do" friendship? Let's talk about the beauty of godly friendship seen in Jonathan and David - "Stuck in the Middle with You" (selected verses from 1 Samuel 18-20).

"Saul has killed thousands, David has killed tens of thousands! ...and Saul eyed David." This week we come to what might be the most widely known account of envy in the Scriptures. I've never had anyone approach me and say, "I'm really struggling with envy." People have said that about lust, addiction, anger, even honesty... but never envy. So why might Americans turn a blind eye to what the early Church considered one of the seven deadly sins? Could it really unravel our lives? As Iago warned Othello before it destroyed his life, beware "The Green-Eyed Monster" (1 Sam.18:1-14). Let's talk about how the hope of Christ actively heals what underlies our envy.

When the false alert hit yesterday, a parade of thoughts ran through my head. Is this real? Is what happened in the Palisades about to happen here? What do we take? Fears ran rampant. Even after the "oops, technical glitch," some fears remained. And a new level of compassion arose for those who have already lost what I only feared for a few minutes. How do we face fears like that - the kind that don't wait for you to process them, but simply overwhelm you whether you are ready or not? Platitudes like "David faced a giant and so can you" ring quite hollow when the fire is actively consuming your life. It's also the wrong way to understand that passage. Where do we get the courage to face our fears, especially ones as overwhelming as the tragedy our city is living through? Let's talk about what gives us courage as real as our fears: "The Man in the Middle" (1 Samuel 17:32-50).

This Sunday we begin a new series on the Life of David. From a historian's lens, this account is the longest single biography in the ancient world. Yet, through a biblical lens, it means much more. David is the long-desired king, a man after God's own heart, a songwriter, a victor and unifier... but also: a deeply flawed sinner, betrayer, adulterer and murderer. If we come to David seeking an inspiration or a moral example, he's not that much different than us. So why does God choose David - the youngest, a forgotten son, whose own father doesn't consider his presence necessary for the big meeting with God's prophet? And why might that be simultaneously encouraging and challenging for us? Let's talk about "Choosing a King" (1 Samuel 16:1-13).

What better way to enter 2025 than reflecting on what many regard as the main theme of the New Testament: our union with Christ! Jesus said that he is the Vine and we are the branches. He called us to abide in him. But how can we live in the ongoing awareness of that life-giving connection? Shouldn't it truly change us? Let's talk about "How to Really Change" (John 15:1-11).

What does a dream about a ladder have to do with Christmas? This week, as we conclude our Advent series, we come to the famous account of Jacob's Ladder. What often gets overlooked is Jacob's isolation and despondency. He is literally using a stone for a pillow. He's lied to his father, betrayed his brother, and is alone in the middle of nowhere. He's likely questioning whether 'the blessing' (and especially the way he went about getting it) was worth it at all. There's no prayer. No repentance. No pleading for God's help. And yet... God shows up. God comes to him. God pursues him. God's character is on display - the same character that would lead to the Incarnation. Let's talk about the joy of Christmas foreshadowed in "the Ladder" (Gen.28:10-22).

The Advent season is in full swing. Join us as we celebrate the Incarnation. This worship service will be a combination of classic Christmas hymns and traditional readings interspersed with brief meditations. Also, the children's ministry has special music for us.Call to worship: Genesis 1:1-4,26-27First Reading: Genesis 3:1-15Second Reading: Isaiah 9:2,6-7; Luke 1:26-38, 46-55Third Reading: Matthew 1:18-25, Luke 2:1-7Fourth Reading: Luke 2:8-20Benediction: Romans 15:13

As we continue our Advent series on the Stump of Jesse, we come to the binding of Isaac. This account is appropriately upsetting for anyone who asks the question: what can God rightly ask of me? The underlying issue is a question of trust. Do I think he's the kind of being who would take advantage of me for his own whims? And with what he asks of Abraham, the answer appears to be terrifying. What could be more seemingly opposite of Christmas than asking for a child to be sacrificed? Wait. Herod. Right. But if God can ask horrific things like this, how could Christmas be 'good will toward men'? Let's talk about God's provision and 'the Ram' (Gen.22:1-14).

This Sunday we begin an Advent series. Advent is a time to look back to the coming of Christ in the Incarnation, and to look forward to when he will come again. We will spend this month looking at passages that foreshadowed the coming of Christ. This week we come to Noah and the Ark. Someone says: "for Christmas? That's a bit... dark." The traditional topic of the first week of Advent is judgment, which is jarring for modern ears. But Christ came to heal all that is broken - which requires identifying the problem. So what does Noah have to do with Christmas? Let's talk about "the Ark" (Gen.6-7).

Kobe Bean Bryant famously said, “Job's not finished.” Whether in sports, work, and even in our faith, there can be a tendency to settle or take it easy, thinking we have done all that is needed to be done. But as we journey in our faith, in the “already, but not yet,” we are called to press on and seek to be more like Christ. Join us this Sunday as we conclude our two-part series in Philippians 3 and hear what it means to press on towards the prize that is in Jesus Christ.

This Sunday we begin a two-week mini-series in Philippians 3. As we approach Thanksgiving, it is worth pondering why so often our lives can feel joyless and thankless. As CS Lewis wrote, “the unmistakable mark of Hell is the unsmiling concentration on the self.” Clearly, our self-focus is stealing our joy. But why does that keep happening, even among Christians? And how do we fight for lasting joy in our lives? Let's talk about “The Thief of Thanks” (Php.3:1-11).

We finally come to the end of our series in 1 John. He ends by simply saying, Dear children, keep yourselves from idols. John is not just throwing out one more command, like a parent saying "buckle up; don't speed!" as you walk out the door. No, he is summing up the entire goal of his letter. Grace has an agenda: that we be both happy and holy. Let's talk about "Keep Yourselves From Idols" (1 John 5:13-21).

We are nearing the end of our series on the letter of 1 John, and he returns to his main concern. John wrote this letter because he perceived a serious threat from the emerging ideas of Gnosticism, which were beginning to seep into the Church. While that may sound incredibly distant from us, there are significant parallels to today. They were twisting the historical truth of Jesus' life to match the prevailing ideas of the surrounding culture. For example, spiritual truth was seen as an inward experience (rather than an historical reality), and they separated mind from body (much like some pitting psychology against biology today). Yet John's ire wasn't merely a counter-cultural tendency. His concern was what we lose about Jesus when we twist our faith to match current prevailing ideas. And that equally applies today. But note well - this letter is written to the Church about a problem within the Church, not a shot at those outside it. Let's talk about why it is essential that we hear "God's Testimony" over any other (1 John 5:6-12).

Why does following the rules so often feel burdensome, especially when it comes to God's rules? This week in our series in 1 John, he is addressing precisely that problem. John insists God's commands are not burdensome, but the fact that they feel that way is exposing something in us that makes them feel enslaving. Only to the degree that problem is addressed will we increasingly experience joy in obedience. How do we get there from here? Let's talk about God's commands as "Not Burdensome?" (1 John 5:1-5)

"God is love" -- seemingly one of the most agreed-upon ideas about God in Western society. However, what people tend to mean by that phrase might better be stated "Love is God." In other words, 'whatever ideas someone has about love... God must be like that.' Ironically, the idea that "God is love" primarily comes from Scripture, especially 1 John 4, which states that exact phrase. However, John is not appealing to his audience's pre-existing ideas about love (to make up a god who matches them). Instead, he explicitly intends to say the opposite: God defines love by who He is. Not only is that potentially offensive in our society, it would equally have been a challenge to his original hearers. So how could it have been good news for them? When our mistaken notions of 'love' get shattered -- especially through suffering -- we rarely embrace it. We certainly don't see it as a joy. So why did they? Let's talk about the joy of who "Love" is (1 John 4:7-21).

Who is the Holy Spirit? What does he do? Is this just "May the Force be with you" or is something more going on? This week in our study of 1 John, he gives us a test for the Holy Spirit. And clearly he expects the Spirit to have a very practical and personal role in our lives. Modern Christians tend to have one of two misunderstandings: either basically to ignore the Spirit or alternatively to focus way too much on the Spirit. So where does that leave us? How do we experience the hope John intends - that he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world? What is the joy we are missing? Let's talk about "The Holy Spirit" (1 John 3:24-4:6).

This Sunday, as we continue our series in 1 John, we return to one of John's cyclical themes: love one another. But this time, instead of just stating the idea, he gets personal: you cannot love God and hate your brother. Cain and Abel get a reference. John even calls out the problem of just giving lip service. You get the sense that he knows his people are genuinely struggling to love each other. Grudges are being held. And he wants them to understand why that is so dangerous - not just relationally but even inwardly. If the early Church, on heels of walking with Jesus, struggled to embody that love, is it really surprising that we do too? So how did they fight for healing instead of just fighting one another? Let's talk about it: "Am I My Brother's Keeper?" (1 John 3:11-24)

Last Sunday we considered the joy of adoption. This Sunday we talk about the challenge of living an adopted life. To that point: it is simple enough to get the child out of the orphanage, but it is much harder to get the orphanage out of the child. Or to put it more practically: how do we actually change? Even if I know what I should do, I often continue doing the same old things. Theologians call this process mortification (dying to our sins) and vivification (growing in our new life). But what does it look like? How can spiritual orphans like us grow into our new family life? Let's talk about "An Orphan's Life #2" (1 John 3:1-10).

This Sunday, as we continue in 1 John, he talks about adoption into the family of God. For any child, being adopted has enormous implications -- past, present, & future. It is intensely personal and wondrously life-altering. Or is it? As John writes this passage, he seems to feel the need to remind them of something they have forgotten. How could we begin to sleepwalk through a gift that should create so much joy? Why would an adopted child choose to live like an orphan instead? What are we missing? Let's talk about "An Orphan's Life" (1 John 2:28-3:3).

This week, as we continue our series in 1 John, we come a passage talking about the last hour and antichrists. It's the kind of passage some Christians simply avoid while others seem to go down a rabbit hole. John intends neither of those options. Instead, he is writing churches with passionate concern for how they are struggling to stay focused on what matters most. While the culture outside the Church mocked much of what Christians believed, John seems much more concerned about threats from within the churches. He does not want them to walk away from their joy. And yet clearly some did. How might we have the same temptation? Let's talk about "Denying the Main Thing" (1 John 2:18-29).

Last week we saw that Biblical freedom is obedience. That is not at all how our world thinks today. If so, it invites a question: how do followers of Christ relate to 'the world'? We've already heard John talk about the darkness of the world, and now he is warning us "Do not love the world or the things in it..." But isn't this the same John who wrote "God so loved the world..." (John 3:16)? If God so loved the world, how can we be told not to love it? How can we love our enemies (as Jesus commanded) and simultaneously hate the world? If John is not being self-contradictory, what is the nuance he intends us to embody? Let's talk about this call to "Love the Brother, Hate the World?" (1 John 2:9-17)  

Dietrich Bonhoeffer popularized the term "cheap grace" in his book "The Cost of Discipleship" in 1937, but the idea is certainly much older (eg, Rom.6:1). His concern was for a hollow imitation of grace that extended forgiveness without repentance, love without truth, life without transformation - in short, a "Christianity" without Jesus' call to change. Last week we talked about Christ our advocate, who demanded grace on our behalf. This week we finish the thought. Grace is a gift, yet a gift with a goal: namely, our holiness. Let's talk about "the Demands of Grace" (1 John 2:1-11).

Woody Allen famously said, "the heart wants what it wants." Yet many do not know Emily Dickinson said it a century earlier, and went on to say "...or else it does not care." Ironically, Allen was using it to justify his personal choices, whereas Dickinson was warning that our hearts are often indifferent to reason. Either way, both are acknowledging a serious problem with the notion of "follow your heart." The Bible goes further, warning us that our own hearts often actively deceive us. (Anyone who has ever had their heart broken knows that to be true.) But it raises a serious question: what do I trust more than my own heart? If I lie to myself, who will fight for truth and hope in my life? Let's talk about having an advocate even when our hearts fail us -- "Grace Demanded" (1 John 1:5-2:2).

This week we return to our series in First John. When the Bible contrasts light and dark, it is not talking about skin color, intellectual capacity or even psychological inclinations - but rather our relationship with God. We can be well-adjusted, culturally savvy, or incredibly intelligent, yet still have a deeply distorted sense of self. It's almost like rain falling on a sidewalk chalk drawing; it might still retain some beauty, but the main meaning feels lost. Our lens for life is broken. That's because of a severed relationship with the Author of Existence. Join us as we talk about recovering the joy of "Walking in the Light" (1 John 1:5-7).

God's grace gathers us together in order to send us back out to share that grace. Let's hear the Good News that we are called to be "Gathered and Scattered" (Rom. 9:30-10:17).

We live in a complex, cosmopolitan society with a variety of beliefs and competing temples of worship. Christians are not called to isolate, but engage with our society. Yet the constant temptation will be to syncretize the various views we are hearing. We do it almost subconsciously. What would anchor us in the midst of such an enviroment, not only 'out there' but even within ourselves? If only there was a book of the Bible designed to address those realities... This Sunday we begin a new series in First John. And, as I hope you'll see, he could've written the above paragraph to his original hearers. Join us as we hear from John -- "What We Saw" (1 John 1:1-4).

At long last we come to the end of our series in the Gospel of Mark. And yet this passage raises so many questions: What do we do with this extra section of Mark in some of our Bibles? Is this really the end of the Gospel? If so, why does it end on such a downer note? How was this supposed to be encouraging - for the original hearers and for us? Let's talk about the irony of "They Said Nothing" and how it became the testimony that changed the world (Mark 16:1-8).

We are almost finished with our series in Mark. This week we come the burial of Jesus. What is striking in the New Testament is how much we hear of the death of Jesus -- and not just his resurrection -- as something for us to remember. Certainly the resurrection is our joy, but the death that precedes it (including the accompanying mourning) is a definite part of the Christian experience, especially in how we are practically changed. As painful as death and grieving are, something about it is radically transformative. It marks us. In our passage, you see Jesus' death actively changing a centurion, the women, and even a Pharisee. How does that happen? Let's talk about "Burying Jesus" (Mark 15:39-47).

Walk in Him. Walk by faith. Walk on. We hear these phrases often in Christian circles and understand the general premise of what it stands for. But what are we walking for? What holds it all together? We look to Jesus Christ who holds the cosmos, the church and everything together, or else it all falls apart. We can walk in Him because of who He is, what He has done, and what He will continue to do. Join us this Sunday, as we will look into Colossians 2:6-7, and learn what this means, as we walk in Him, the One who holds all things!

The poet Mary Oliver says, “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” We often become what we behold and give our attention to. We hope to give our time and dedication towards Christ, yet we sometimes struggle to give our attention fully to Him. Luke 19:1-10 introduces us to Zacchaeus, and we see the attention he was able to give to Jesus, even climbing up a tree to get a better view of Him. What stirred him to want to get a clearer view of Christ? What was he looking for? As we look forward to our time together this Sunday, what are we seeking and are we looking for a clear line of sight to the One we call our King? May we come together to turn our eyes to Him, the One who came to seek and save the lost and is worthy of praise!

We are nearing the end of our series in the Gospel of Mark. This week we come to the cross. Darkness falls. Jesus cries out. The world is unraveling. This is not just having a bad day. It is despairing of life itself. Have you ever been there? St John of the Cross called it the 'dark night of the soul' - when you utterly lose all your bearings and any sense of hope. You are stripped bare and feel undone. It is astounding that Jesus descended into such darkness. What hope is there for us in such a time? Let's talk about the "Dark Night of the Soul" (Mark 15:33-39).

"Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers." English hymnwriter Stuart Townend penned that line almost thirty years ago in the modern classic How Deep the Father's Love For Us. It puts us in the shoes of mockers and scoffers as Jesus walks to his death. And it's a hymn of praise! It's not meant to crush us, but to lift us into joy - as we consider how God transforms both the humiliated and the mockers. Our society features heavy doses of both, but soul-stirring joy is rarely a part of it. If God can so transform Jesus' ultimate walk of shame, how might He do that in our lives now?

This week as we continue our series in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is handed over to Pilate. And as Pilate asks questions, the motives of everyone involved begin to surface. Not only does that reveal particular fears, but it demonstrates why so many perceived Jesus as a threat. Much like the workplace or even our romantic lives, when we become envious or fear losing control, bad things tend to follow. The inner turmoil of our fears often leads us to lash out at others, making them pay outwardly for what our fears are doing to us inwardly. It perpetuates a cycle of pain. As the old saying goes, "hurt people hurt (other) people." So what hope is there for healing? What will heal not just the outward injuries, but begin to address the inward fears as well? Let's talk about Jesus being "Handed Over to Pilate" (Mark 15:1-15).

I've always had a hard time discerning with when to speak and when to stay silent. My instincts often get it exactly backward, leaving me kicking myself later. That's probably why I'm simultaneously bothered and fascinated by Jesus on trial. If I put myself in his shoes: at the moments I would have most wanted to defend myself, Jesus is silent. And the moments I would've kept my mouth shut are when he speaks. But this is more than just street smarts. Jesus is showing us who he is by how and when he advocates. How does that help us when we feel as if we are on trial in our daily lives? Let's talk about "God on Trial" (Mark 14:53-65).