Reach Community Church
There’s a difference between visiting someone and moving in. You can help someone in a crisis. You can rescue someone from danger. You can provide for their needs. But when you choose to live with someone — that’s something deeper. The book of Exodus is not ultimately about escape from Egypt. It’s about something far more intimate. God didn’t just want Israel out of slavery. He wanted to dwell with them. And the question that hangs over the second half of Exodus is this: Can a holy God really live with a stubborn, sinful people? Exodus 40 answers that question.
Most of us expect that once God shows up in a big way, trusting Him should get easier. After the answer to prayer. After the breakthrough. After the victory. But Scripture is honest enough to show us something different. There are seasons when God doesn’t remove the hardship right away—not because He’s absent, but because He’s forming something deeper in us. And those seasons often come right after moments of great faith. Today’s passage reminds us that trusting God isn’t learned in the miracle itself. It’s learned on the road that follows it.
Most of us want God to change our situation. We pray for deliverance, clarity, breakthrough, relief. But in Scripture, God often works in a different order than we expect. Before He delivers, He reveals. Before He sends Moses to Pharaoh, He introduces Moses to Himself in a deeper way. Exodus 3 is not primarily about a burning bush—it’s about a revealing God.
Over the last three weeks, we’ve talked about repentance, abiding, and prayer. And if you’re anything like me, somewhere along the way you quietly thought… This should be fixing more than it is.” We repented, We turned back to God, We committed to His Word, We prayed more intentionally. And yet— some of the same struggles are still there. Some of the same temptations still show up. Some of the same patterns still fight for control. And that leads to a dangerous, discouraging question: “Did I do this wrong…or is something wrong with me?” Some of you came today feeling: Frustrated with yourself, Tired of starting over, Quietly ashamed that you’re not further along. So before we go any further, I want to say this clearly: The problem isn’t that you’re still broken. The problem is that you expected arrival. Somewhere along the way, we absorbed the idea that spiritual growth would feel like graduation. That maturity meant struggle would fade. That obedience would eventually eliminate weakness. But the gospel never promised arrival in this life. It promised grace. Today we close Begin Again with a freeing truth: You are still broken—and God is still working. That’s not failure. That’s Christianity.
I have good news for you this morning—God wants to hear from you. Today, we’re stepping into a spiritual discipline that most Christians will admit they want to grow in: prayer. And like I said last week, I’m not here to guilt you into religious activity. I’m here to remind you that life is found in these places. Prayer is not a ritual we perform for God; it is our one-on-one connection with the Father. It’s the place where our hearts are shaped to His will, where our fears are laid bare, and where His voice can be heard above the noise of everything else. And today, we’re going to approach prayer from an unlikely place in Scripture. We’re heading into the Old Testament. You’ve probably heard the phrase “digging for buried treasure.” Today, we’re going to look at prayer the same way—because sometimes the most life-giving things aren’t found on the surface. They’re found when we’re willing to dig.
Most of us don’t struggle because we don’t know what we should be doing as followers of Jesus. We struggle because we underestimate how necessary some of those things really are. We tell ourselves, “I’ll be fine. I’ll get to it eventually.” And yet we live with a quiet frustration—less peace, less clarity, less freedom—than Christ actually promised us. So for the next two weeks, we’re going to talk about two practices that aren’t optional add-ons to the Christian life… they are essential to living free in Christ. Today, we’re going to talk about what it means to abide in the Word of God. Next week, we’ll talk about prayer—not as a duty, but as a living connection that gives life. And I want you to hear this clearly—I’m not here to guilt you into religious activity. My goal is far better than that. I want to convince you that life with these practices isn’t heavier…it’s freer.
Happy New Year—welcome to 2026! Every new year carries with it a pinch of hope… that quiet thought in the back of our minds that maybe this could be the year. The year things change. The year habits break. The year healing begins. The year faith becomes real again. You can fill in that blank for yourself. But if we’re honest, hope alone isn’t enough. Without help—real help—we don’t get very far. We’ve all made the promises. We’ve all set the goals. And most of us know how quickly our good intentions fade. That’s the good news. We don’t have to do this on our own. Through Jesus, we have access to the greatest help we could ever receive—grace that restores, power that transforms, and mercy that meets us right where we are. Not condemnation. Not pressure. Help. So the real question as we step into 2026 isn’t what do you want to change? It’s will you lean in and allow Jesus to help you begin again? Because the truth is—we’re not very good at lasting change by ourselves. But with Jesus?….
Love is one of the most used words in our culture—and one of the most misunderstood. We say we love coffee. We say we love our kids. We say we love Christmas. But the love the Bible speaks of isn’t a preference, an emotion, or something that fades with circumstances. It isn’t something we fall into or out of. It’s something that moves, initiates, and costs. Advent doesn’t begin by asking how well we love. It begins by pointing us to the Love that came to us. And until we understand that, we won’t truly understand Christmas.
On the third Sunday of Advent, we light the pink—or rose-colored—candle. Traditionally called the Shepherds’ Candle, it represents joy. But just like Hope and Love in the earlier weeks of Advent, Joy also has many counterfeits. One of the most common substitutes is happiness. What’s the difference? Happiness is a state of well-being or contentment; it’s a pleasurable or satisfying experience. Joy, however, is a source or cause of great happiness—it is rooted in something (or Someone) that produces lasting delight. Here’s the question: Do you want an experience that fades… or a connection to the source that endures? Trying to find joy in the trappings and traditions of Christmas is like opening a beautifully wrapped present labeled “Joy Inside”—only to discover the box is empty. Our traditions don’t contain joy; they point to it. If we want the empty spaces in our hearts truly filled, we must look not merely at Christmas, but through Christmas—to the One in whom indestructible, unspeakable joy is found.
There are a lot of things competing for our attention during the Christmas season. But the next four Sundays are meant to slow us down and help us remember what is truly important. Through the birth of Jesus, we are given access to Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace. And this week, we begin with Hope. So what is hope? Webster’s defines it as “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.” But the biblical definition goes deeper: hope is “confident expectation.” It’s not wishful thinking—it’s trust in a God who keeps His promises. Romans 8:24–25 says: “For in this hope we were saved… we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” The tension we face during this season is the same struggle that follows us all year long: we are in the habit of putting our hope in other things. We may never say that out loud, but our hearts often drift there. Advent re-centers us. It reminds us that true hope is not found in circumstances, accomplishments, or holiday expectations. It is found in Christ alone.
Reach Community Church
Last week, we talked about the better covenant God made with us through our faith in Jesus. This week, we focus on the sacrifice that made that covenant possible. There was a payment in blood that had to be made. Hebrews 9:22 reminds us, “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.” Sin is not just the problem of “those people”—it’s our problem. Romans tells us that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Jesus came to fix that problem once and for all. So the question this morning is: What sacrifice are you trusting in?
Everyone has some kind of agreement with God—spoken or unspoken. We think: “If I do better, God will bless me.” That’s covenant thinking. But Hebrews 8 reminds us: there’s a difference between the Old Covenant, which depended on our performance, and the New Covenant, which depends on God’s promise. Warren Wiersbe says“A covenant is not a contract we negotiate with God; it is a relationship established by His grace and guaranteed by His Son.” So the question becomes personal: Which covenant are you living under—your promises to God, or His promises to you?
If you’ve ever felt small — like your life barely registers against the size of this world — you’re not alone. David felt the same way when he looked up at the stars and asked, “What is man that You are mindful of him?” Hebrews 2 answers that question. It reminds us that the God who made the stars didn’t just notice us — He became one of us. He stepped into our weakness to rescue, restore, and reign on our behalf. This is the story of a Savior who dove into our brokenness so we could share His glory. So the writer says: “Don’t drift.” Don’t let distraction steal your attention or fear rob your confidence. Because the One who made you is also the One who came for you — and He’s not ashamed to call you family.
We live in a world that loves to hear from God—but not always to listen to Him. We want His comfort more than His correction, His blessing more than His direction. But when God speaks, it isn’t for our curiosity—it’s for our obedience. Every time God’s Word comes, it confronts a choice: Will I trust what I feel or obey what He says? Will I chase safety, or surrender to His will? Two stories—separated by centuries—reveal that difference. One ends in captivity. The other fuels the gospel. Because when God speaks, the outcome always depends on how we respond.
Every one of us has moments we wish we could erase—words we’ve said, choices we’ve made, people we’ve hurt. And yet, when we come face to face with those memories, there’s something incredible about realizing that Jesus already knew all of it—and still came for us. That’s the heart of the gospel: Jesus didn’t come to recruit the righteous; He came to rescue the rebellious. He didn’t wait for the world to clean itself up before stepping in—He entered it, fully, with mercy that overflows and patience that never runs out. For many, it’s easy to believe Jesus saves “sinners in general.” But it’s harder to believe He came for me—with all my pride, my failures, my hidden struggles. Yet that’s exactly what He did. Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners… and He hasn’t stopped doing it.
Have you ever noticed how easy it is to start strong in your faith but lose focus along the way? Life gets noisy. Culture pulls hard. And before long, Jesus can move from the center of our lives to just another part of it—something we “add” rather than the One we build everything around. That’s exactly what was happening in the early church Paul writes to. So before giving any corrections, Paul begins with something powerful—a prayer. Not a prayer for comfort or blessing, but a prayer that they would grow deeper, stronger, and more fruitful in their walk with Christ. Because when the gospel takes root, it changes everything about how we live, think, and endure.
Reach Community Church
We live in a world that tells us to hold tight to what we have—save more, secure more, insure more. But Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 9 that God’s economy works differently. In God’s kingdom, open hands don’t lead to emptiness—they lead to fullness. Generosity is not about losing; it’s about sowing. And when we sow generously, God promises to supply all grace, meet every need, and multiply eternal fruit. Paul anchors this truth in Scripture itself, quoting Psalm 112 to remind us that the righteous have always been marked by open-handed giving. And at the very center of it all stands Christ, God’s inexpressible gift to us.
Our world feels like it’s spinning out of control. In just the last month, we’ve watched headlines filled with tragedy: school shootings, a woman stabbed to death on public transportation in Charlotte, and even the shocking assassination of Charlie Kirk. The last two were so public that videos spread across the internet for the world to see. No matter where you stood on Charlie Kirk’s politics, one thing was undeniable: he was open about his faith in Jesus and unashamed to defend his beliefs. And yet here we are — watching more violence, more chaos, more confusion. I wish I could stand here today and explain exactly what God is doing in all of this, but I can’t. What I can tell you is this: God is still good. He is still in control. And He is working all things — even the things we don’t understand — for His glory. But that raises a hard question: How do we keep moving forward without losing heart in a world like this? How do we not give in to fear, despair, or bitterness? That’s where today’s text helps us. Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 5 that the way we endure is by fixing our eyes on eternity. This world is temporary. Our bodies are temporary. But our hope is eternal, our home is eternal, and our mission is eternal.
Everyone here carries some kind of weight—stress at work, family tension, health issues, unanswered prayers. Some of us hide it well, but deep down we know what it feels like to be stretched thin. The real question is, when life squeezes us, where do we turn for strength? Today we’re going to talk about a God who doesn’t leave us alone in our weakness.
Everyone has a filter through which they make decisions. For some, it’s comfort: “What makes me happy?” For others, it’s success: “What gets me ahead?” But Paul calls us to a different filter altogether—one that changes how we eat, drink, work, spend, post online, and even how we interact with people who don’t know Christ. The question isn’t first about what benefits me—it’s about what glorifies God and what helps others see Him more clearly.
People sacrifice years of training, large sums of money, and personal comfort for things that eventually fade—a career, a championship, a dream vacation. But what about the message that brings eternal life? Is it worth your reputation, your rights, even your daily comfort? The way we live, and what we are willing to give up for the sake of Christ, reveals how much we truly value the gospel. In today’s text from 1 Corinthians 9, Paul shows us how far he was willing to go so that others might hear the gospel and believe.
In just about every area of life, we’re told to follow what’s smart, proven, and sophisticated. We choose strategies that impress others, solutions that make sense to our logic, and leaders who look the part. But then comes the gospel—a message centered on a crucified carpenter from an obscure town—something the world has always called foolish. Yet here’s the paradox: that “foolish” message is the very power of God to save. The cross doesn’t fit the world’s categories of wisdom or strength, but it accomplishes what human wisdom never could—it rescues the sinner, redeems the lost, and humbles the proud. Today, Paul invites us to answer a question that cuts to the heart: Will you keep trusting in what the world calls wise, or will you embrace the “foolishness” that is powerful enough to save you?
What if I told you that there was a way to learn to discern in this chaotic and confusing world the will of the Father? Who wouldn’t want to know his will and purpose? Be honest with yourself for a few minutes. What would you be willing to do to know. You know it is not easy because if it were everyone would be doing it. So what’s it worth to you? Today we will unpack just two verses in Romans 12 that make this bold claim. So buckle up.
It's God's desire to see us saved. That's really where we start over, and start well. Our walk with God is like a race, but it's not a sprint, it's more like a marathon. How do we keep going, so we can finish well? Come join us at Reach Community Church this Sunday as we look at an example from scripture that we can learn what to do and not do, as we walk with our God.
It’s not easy to be grateful. We live in a culture that constantly breeds discontentment with the life we’ve been given and the stuff we have. There’s always something to complain about. But today, my hope is to help you do what feels impossible—to go against the grain of this world and your own internal dialogue, and to give thanks to the Lord. I believe that if you can learn to live this way, it will change your life. I’m not asking you to lie or fake it. I’m asking you to see the bigger story God is writing—one He has graciously invited you into—and to trust our sovereign God who is working all things for your good and His glory. God loves you and is calling you into a life that is full.
Reach Community Church
Reach Community Church
Every year, we pause to celebrate our nation’s independence—our freedom. And rightly so. But what if the kind of freedom we talk about around fireworks and flags isn’t the deepest kind we need? Because long before nations were formed or constitutions written, people have wrestled with fear, oppression, and uncertainty. And in those moments, it’s not a declaration that sets you free—it’s dependence. Today we turn to a moment in history where fear surrounded God’s people, where power stood at their gates, and where deliverance came in a way no one expected. Not through might. Not through negotiation. But through the faithfulness of God. The question is: What are you depending on to make you feel free? And are you sure it can actually deliver?
The week of June 14th, ten of us traveled to Monterrey, Mexico, to partner with a missions organization called Back2Back. This morning, you’ll hear a bit about that experience from me and a few others. But more than just a recap, we want to talk about why living on mission matters. Jesus didn’t just give us a mission—He gave us a model. The early church didn’t spread the gospel because it was easy. They faced prison, persecution, and pain… and still, they pressed on. Why? Because they believed the gospel was worth it—and it still is. So here’s the question for you: Do you believe the gospel is still the best news out there? If you do, don’t wait for the next mission trip to start living on mission. Start now—right where you are.
Reach Community Church
Reach Community Church
There’s a moment in every believer’s life when you wonder if your failure disqualified you. Not just a mistake—but a deep regret. A betrayal. A silence when you should have spoken. A distance you never thought you'd drift. Have you ever looked at your own heart and thought, “Jesus can’t possibly still want to use someone like me”? This story isn’t just about Peter—it’s about Jesus. About how He deals with broken people. About how love restores, redeems, and recommissions. About how grace doesn’t give up when we do. And what happens here? It’s not just a reunion. It’s a restart.
Have you ever felt like your joy was leaking? Like you're doing all the right things—working hard, showing up, even reading your Bible—but something deep inside still feels flat, restless, or empty? We live in a world that offers quick hits of happiness but leaves us hollow. We’re surrounded by people chasing after pleasure, performance, and possessions, but somehow missing the one thing they were made for: lasting joy. Jesus doesn’t just want to get you through life—He wants to fill you with His own joy. Not a cheap substitute. Not a surface smile. But a deep, abiding joy that outlasts your circumstances and flows out of your relationship with Him.
Have you ever been caught off guard by someone’s kindness—so unexpected, so undeserved, it left you speechless? Maybe it was a note you didn’t expect, a debt forgiven, or a friend who showed up when everyone else walked away. There’s something powerful about love that stoops low. It unsettles our pride. It rewrites our expectations. And if we’re willing, it reshapes how we see ourselves—and everyone around us. Today, we step into one of those moments—where love doesn’t shout or shine, but kneels quietly and does what no one else is willing to do. And it just might change everything.
Imagine walking into a feast where every dish promises to satisfy your deepest hunger, but as you reach for the first bite, you realize it's only a shadow, a faint echo of the real thing. This is the tension Jesus confronts in John 6. The crowd had tasted the miraculous bread, felt the buzz of divine power, but they were still starving spiritually. When Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life," He wasn’t just offering a meal — He was inviting them into a deeper reality, one that transforms temporary satisfaction into eternal life. But this invitation comes with a challenge: it’s not about tasting but abiding, not just knowing but consuming, not just following from a distance but being united with Him in the most personal, life-altering way possible. Today, as we dive into this passage, we’re confronted with a choice — will we settle for spiritual snacks or feast on the true, living bread that fully satisfies?
Today, as we celebrate Mother’s Day, we honor not just those with children in their arms, but also those with children in their hearts, dreams, and prayers. Hannah’s story in 1 Samuel captures both the deep sorrow and the profound joy of motherhood. Her journey reminds us that God sees the forgotten, hears the desperate, and sometimes does the miraculous. This message is for everyone who has ever prayed for a child, for those who have struggled with loss, for those who mother others through mentoring, and for those who have chosen a different path. You are seen, valued, and loved by the God who sees the hidden tears and hears the whispered prayers. As we reflect on Hannah’s story today, I want you to see that her journey points us not just to the power of prayer, but to the deeper hope found in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Like Hannah, we all experience longing, brokenness, and the need for redemption. Today, you can find the same grace and hope that transformed her
“Alright, let’s talk vegetables… or technically, fruits. This is a cucumber. And it’s a lot like us — fresh, full of potential, but still kind of… plain. Nothing wrong with it, but let’s be honest — no one’s lining up for cucumber-flavored chips. On the other hand a pickle. Same vegetable — totally different vibe. Pickles have flavor. They’ve been changed. Transformed. But here's the thing: this guy didn’t get this way by trying harder. It didn’t wake up one morning and say, ‘Today’s the day! I’m going full dill!’”……..“It got this way by sitting. Soaking. Being immersed in a new environment — day after day. That’s what changed it. And honestly? That’s how spiritual growth works too.” “You don’t become more like Jesus by gritting your teeth. You become like Him by staying close — abiding. That’s what we’re diving into today.”
Hallelujah was never meant to be tied to good days. It’s the cry of a soul that says, "My God is greater than my circumstances!” It’s the song you shout when the walls haven’t fallen, when the breakthrough hasn't come, when you're still waiting — but you trust Him anyway.Today’s message is simple and powerful: Praise is a choice. It’s not built on what you see — it’s built on who He is. It’s not driven by feelings — it’s anchored in faith. And when you choose to worship through the storm, you shake the very foundations of the darkness around you. Today we’re not just talking about worship — we’re stepping into a Hallelujah Anyway kind of life.
Some words stay with us forever — a final goodbye, a whispered “I love you,” a promise that held us up in our darkest hour. But no words in history carry more weight than these: “Father, forgive them.” They were spoken from a place of unimaginable agony — nailed hands, a bleeding brow, surrounded by mockers. And still… He prayed for mercy. But how do we know His prayer wasn’t just a beautiful sentiment? Because three days later, the stone was rolled away. The tomb was empty. And forgiveness wasn’t just a hope — it became a reality, backed by the authority of the Risen King. So today, let us turn to the Word of God to shape our future. Let us come with soft hearts, ready to receive God’s invitation — to step into life in all its fullness.
Have you ever gone to extreme lengths just to help someone you love? Maybe you’ve rearranged your whole schedule, drained your savings, or driven through the night — not because it was easy, but because it mattered. Love gets creative. Faith gets bold. Desperation breaks through ceilings. As we continue our journey to the cross in this series, Father, Forgive Them, we’re leaning in to the scandal and the beauty of forgiveness — the kind that breaks barriers, rewrites stories, and reaches deeper than we often expect. Last week, we asked the question: Who needs forgiveness? And we saw that Jesus offers it to the person the world least expects — a woman with a past, and a heart that runs toward grace. Today, we’re looking at a moment where forgiveness doesn’t just walk through the front door — it comes through the roof. And what Jesus says and does in this moment doesn’t just shift the room — it rattles the entire religious system. Because Jesus isn’t just willing to forgive… He’s determined to. He doesn’t wait for us to get everything right. He honors faith that risks, that carries, that climbs — and He offers healing that starts in the soul. Let’s step into this story — not just to admire the miracle, but to meet the Savior who still sees our need… and speaks forgiveness before we even ask.
There are few words more surprising—more offensive, even—than the ones Jesus spoke from the cross: “Father, forgive them…” In that moment, bleeding and mocked, Jesus wasn’t just showing mercy—He was defining His mission. Forgiveness wasn’t an afterthought. It was the reason He came. But here’s the tension: forgiveness only matters if we know we need it. And that’s where we often get stuck. We divide the world into “good people” and “bad people.” We compare sins like they’re stains that can be scrubbed out with enough effort. And some of us—like the woman in today’s passage—know our need all too well. Others—like the Pharisee sitting next to Jesus—aren’t so sure they need anything at all. So before we get to the cross… Before we hear Jesus pray for those who nailed Him to a cross… We have to ask a deeper question: Who needs forgiveness? And maybe more importantly—do I? Let’s find out together.
Imagine standing in the wilderness, surrounded by crowds who have come not for entertainment, but for transformation. That’s where we meet John the Baptist in Luke 3. He’s not preaching comfort—he's calling people to repentance, preparing the way for the coming Messiah. His message is bold: "Turn from your sins, and bear fruit that proves your heart has changed." In todays verses, John announces a baptism of repentance, confronts complacency, and urges his listeners to live lives marked by justice, generosity, and integrity. He points beyond himself to One far greater—One who will baptize not just with water, but with the Holy Spirit and fire. Today, as we step into this passage, we are invited to hear John’s challenge afresh: How are we preparing the way for Jesus in our own lives?
Have you ever found yourself in a season where God has spoken a promise over your life, but you have yet to see it fulfilled? Maybe you’re waiting for healing, restoration, provision, or direction, and in the waiting, doubt begins to creep in. It’s one thing to praise God when the answer has come, but what about when you’re still in the middle of uncertainty? Mary, a young girl from an insignificant town, had just received an astonishing word from the Lord. She would give birth to the Messiah. Yet, at this moment, nothing in her outward circumstances had changed—she was still an unwed teenager in a society that wouldn’t understand her pregnancy, still facing an unknown future. And yet, she lifts her voice in magnificent praise. This is the heart of faith: worshiping God not because we have seen the promise fulfilled, but because we trust the One who made the promise. When we believe in God's faithfulness, we can magnify His name even in seasons of waiting. Today, we will explore how Mary’s song teaches us to rejoice in the character of God, to trust in His perfect timing, and to proclaim His greatness—even when we haven’t yet seen how His promises will unfold.
There’s a big difference between renting and owning. When you rent something—a house, a car, or even a tool—you may have access to it, but it doesn’t truly belong to you. You use it for a time, but in the end, you answer to the owner. Yet, how often do we live as if we own what has only been entrusted to us? Our lives, our resources, our time—all of it has been given by Someone else, yet we often cling to them as if they are ours to control. Jesus tells a story that reminds us of this truth: We are renters, not owners. And how we handle what we’ve been given will determine everything. The question today is, Are we living as faithful stewards, or are we trying to claim ownership over what belongs to God?
Have you ever tried to walk in two directions at once? It’s impossible. Imagine standing at a crossroads, one path leading toward God’s kingdom and the other toward the world. Many of us try to keep a foot on both paths, thinking we can balance our love for God with our attachment to worldly things. But eventually, we’re forced to choose—because a divided heart cannot stand. Jesus spoke a powerful truth when He said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” We see this principle everywhere—nations collapse under internal strife, families fall apart when unity is broken, and even churches weaken when division takes root. But the most dangerous place division can occur is within our own hearts. Too often, we try to serve two masters. We want to trust God, but we also want control. We desire holiness, but we still chase worldly pleasures. We long for peace, but we cling to worry and doubt. This internal battle leaves us weak, exhausted, and spiritually unstable. But Jesus doesn’t call us to half-hearted devotion. He calls us to full surrender. Today, we’re going to examine what it means to be “a house divided” and how we can build our lives on a foundation that stands firm in Christ. The choice is before us—will we be fully devoted to God, or will we remain divided?
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