Sermons

One of the questions I often hear from troubled Christians goes something like this: “I feel stuck. I'm not getting the answers I need from God, and I don't know what to do.” We long for clarity. We can hardly live without hope. So we go searching for both often without realizing it, and often in the wrong places. Genesis 8 reminds us that God often gives the assurance and clarity we need when we come to him in worship. He is the God who responds. Not because we earn his favor or try to bargain with him, but because we place ourselves before him to thank him, to hear from him, and to receive from him. That's what Noah did. And God responded. He still responds…

We forget things. Appointments. Birthdays. Names. It happens to all of us. And it's embarrassing. But we've also been on the other side. Forgotten. Overlooked. Hung out to dry. A friend forgotten at the airport feels frustrated. A child forgotten at school feels scared. An anniversary forgotten…feels personal. The closer the relationship, the deeper the hurt. That's why the statement “But God remembered Noah” in Genesis 8 is so rich and full of hope.

This Is My Story is a collection of real-life testimonies from people in our church family whose lives have been transformed by the gospel. Each message highlights how God meets individuals in unique circumstances—bringing hope, redemption, and lasting change through Jesus. These stories aren't just inspiring—they remind us that God is still at work today. As you listen, you'll see the power of the gospel on display and be encouraged to reflect on your own story and how God is writing it.

Last week we talked about the broken cultural stories we tend to absorb and the shaping power they wield in our lives. We explored the hustle culture, cancel culture, victim culture, self-help culture, and prosperity culture. Then we saw how God in his grace enters into our broken stories to offer hope and rescue us. That's a glorious picture of our salvation. But it's not the end. We still, even as believers, gravitate toward broken narratives that weaken our hope, steal our joy, and damage our witness to the world. So let's dig a little deeper in the Luke 24 story—and other texts—to learn how we can continue to live in the better story with God's help.

Stories matter. They shape our beliefs. They inform our behavior. They help us make sense of the world. Stories are powerful. They exalt heroes, expose villains, and portray happily-ever-afters. Stories are dangerous. They can mislead us and distort reality. They can hurt us deeply and harm others. Stories are glorious. They give us courage, fill us with hope, and help up face the darkest of afflictions. At its core, Easter is a story—a true story about what God did to rescue and restore his fallen creation. Are you believing that story? Is it changing your life?

Just before the vagabond nation of Israel entered the promised land, Moses paused to rehearse and reflect on all God had done for His chosen people. From the ten plagues in Egypt to the Ten Commandments; from the parting of the sea to the provision of manna; these stories of deliverance and guidance established the foundation and identity of God's people. Deuteronomy 6 calls us today to continue passing on Stories that Save to the next generation.

God is faithful to bring His church through a season of change and He will accomplish His purposes for us as He ultimately works for our good and His glory.

To be truly alone is one of the deepest hardships a person can face. Becoming a Christian does not automatically remove that struggle. Many believers still wither in isolation. Barna research shows that over half of Christians say their spiritual life is entirely private. In other words, many suffer quietly without deep connections to other believers. Pastors are not immune. This is why Paul repeatedly longs to see believers face-to-face—because encouragement and growth happen best in embodied relationships. Do you have that kind of connection? You can. You should

Compelling scientific research tells us we need embodied presence. Babies can't comfort themselves. Long-distance relationships rarely work. Social distancing wrecked the world. But long before social experiments were conducted and scientific edicts were made, Scripture made the point. In fact, the Bible is the only place we find clear answers as to why we need relational connections in order to thrive and grow.

A well-known agnostic once made a striking admission: “I had motives for not wanting the world to have a meaning.”Later, Aldous Huxley identified one of those motives—sexual freedom. In other words, his rejection of the Christian worldview was not purely objective. The surprise was not his lack of objectivity, but his honesty about it. Unbelief is often shaped by motives people do not fully recognize. That's one reason Scripture gives us both clarity and hope when we encounter unbelief in the world.

God pulls no punches in describing the pre-flood condition of humanity in Genesis 6. “Every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually,” and “Now the earth was corrupt…and filled with violence.” This is not a world ripe with potential while drifting and morally confused. It's a world full of decay and collapsing on itself. And it's a world that must be blotted out and then renewed. What lessons is God showing us from this heartbreaking section of Scripture? He is giving us a pattern to understand history and our own heart if we're paying attention.

God created human beings with limits. We must eat. We need sleep. We require healthy relational boundaries and clear parameters to live well. We can't function without them. But if we're honest, we despise them—just like our ancestors in Genesis 6. The first eight verses of that chapter uncover an ancient world engrossed in violating boundaries and crossing lines. Their sins provoked a world-wide flood of judgment. But if we look closely, we'll also see God's grace.

When do you feel the most confident? Is it when you look your best? When you're surrounded by people who like you? When you've accomplished something great? The human heart is prone to place confidence in all the wrong things. This Sunday at GraceLife we'll follow the theme of boasting and confidence from the prophet Jeremiah to the apostle Paul.  Join us to see how God brings good news that corrects our upside-down and inside-out approach to confidence.

As you read the New Testament, especially the book of Acts, it's clear that the church plays a central role in God's mission to a dark, broken, sinful world. What is that mission? To deliver the saving message of Jesus Christ; to be the “pillar and buttress of truth.” The proclamation of the Gospel is critical in that mission. One of the reasons the apostles and elders remained devoted to that mission was because they refused to let it get hijacked—even by legitimate needs. They kept their priority straight. One of the means for protecting that priority was a special group of humble, devoted servants called Deacons who served and met practical needs in the church.

There's a stirring movie scene where a Japanese emperor asks a captured soldier to tell him how the last Samurai Warrior died. The soldier, played by Tom Cruise, responds, “I will tell you how he lived.” His point was not to minimize the courage with which the warrior faced his death, but the honor in which he conducted his life. Genesis 5 is often rushed through or skipped altogether in daily readings—and sermons!—because it's a lengthy genealogy. A family tree. But there are riches to be mined in the careful way Moses tells us, not only the deaths of Adam's family, but their life. What Do You Want on Your Tombstone?

A plot twist that always resonates with an audience is the underestimated hero revealing his true colors. He is finally seen and admired for who he is. Jesus has been massively underestimated—by both his enemies and his followers. The book of Revelation was written to correct that mistake and unveil Him. Within three paragraphs, we behold Jesus as the Resurrected Victor, Reigning Sovereign, and Returning King. The suffering lamb is transformed into the conquering Lion of Judah. The early church needed that vision for what was coming. We need it too.

As a new year dawns we find another opportunity to reflect on the daily paths we walk and to reconsider God's invitation to walk “The Ancient Paths”—with Him. His offer is not to add him to a loose list of resolutions, but to enter his fellowship, experience his presence, and enjoy his rest more deeply. Will you consider his offer?

Good news still stops us in our tracks: a clean scan, a new job, a baby on the way, an offer accepted. We live for it. And we rarely hear it. Christmas begins with good news—the greatest news. The Gospels are filled with joy: shepherds running, wise men rejoicing, Mary pondering, Simeon blessing God, and John leaping in the womb. Why all the excitement? Because our Savior is born. Nothing else can save us—not money, health, success, or family. Jesus has come.

Christmas. Finally—a season of peace, celebration, and healing. A time to rest… or so we hope. Time off work and school is a gift, yet the deep rest we long for often slips away. We carry into the holidays the burdens we've ignored and the wounds we've buried, and an unexplainable emptiness follows us. The answer isn't to “keep calm and carry on.” Deep rest begins when we stop, look around, ask hard questions, and hear from God. Only then can we walk an ancient path that leads to true soul rest.

Now that the Christmas season is in full swing, every child feels the heavy anticipation and must endure the days of waiting. Nothing moves slower than December 1st-24th. Waiting is hard. And you may have noticed that kids don't enjoy it. But here's the secret: adults don't enjoy waiting either. And we're all waiting for something. A promotion. Conflict resolution. Financial security. Relief. Healing.

Years ago, a man in Los Angeles was dying from AIDS—a well-known leader in the gay-pride movement. His approaching death both terrified and humbled him. He knew he had no resources left to face it. Friends urged him to visit a well-known church in the valley, promising he'd hear something from Scripture that would help. He slipped into the back pew the following Sunday. The singing didn't move him. The sermon didn't make sense. But when the pastor read Psalm 107, one phrase shook him to his core: “Some sat in darkness and in the shadow of death… prisoners in affliction… Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them… He burst their bonds apart.” It was his life on the page—darkness, chains, rebellion, helplessness. And like those ancient prisoners, he cried out to God…and God delivered him. That text became his story. It's a reminder that the Lord still breaks chains. He still brings people out of darkness. He still delivers those who cry to Him. Have you tasted that freedom? Have you experienced that deliverance? You can.

It's possible to live a “successful” life and forget God entirely—to work hard, enjoy your hobbies, stay healthy, grow a family, invest in others, even contribute to society, all while keeping God at the margins. You can build an impressive life with you at the center. But that foundation will take you somewhere tragic, as we see at the close of Genesis 4. Moses pulls the camera back and exposes a sad reality: it's possible to experience God's protection without enjoying his presence—and to surround yourself with relationships shaped by that same Godless reality.

The deadliest sins are the ones you've made peace with—the quiet dangers that slip beneath your moral radar. The grudge you nurse. The lust you feed. The secret habit you excuse. They slowly turn you into someone you'd hardly recognize. They never settle for being tolerated; they want control. Yet we remain largely blind to their power. That's why Genesis 4 demands our attention. It's the first time sin is described in detail—and God Himself issues the warning: “Sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is contrary to you, but you must rule over it.” Sin, the menacing predator… waiting, watching, crouching.

We once lived in Paradise, basking in the very presence of God. Eden was our dwelling place and God was our delight. But we went rogue and lost them both. Now East of Eden is where we live—fighting to find our way home. But the entrance is blocked. Pain and sorrow overshadow our searches that end in death. Futility is our shared experience. But it won't have the last word. There's a way home--an entrance back into God's presence. 3

Remember the story of Esau? He made a terrible trade. He swapped his birthright for a bowl of stew. I'm sure Jacob was quite the cook and that the stew was next level. But the New Testament gives us a quick, tragic summary of that episode: “Esau sold his birthright for a single meal…and afterward, when he desired to inherit the blessing, he was rejected, for he found no chance to repent, though he sought it with tears.” That's a tough word, but a good reminder for us who are faced every day with temptations to trade the promises of Jesus for cheap substitutes. Join us at GraceLife this Sunday for a quick word about bowls of stew and birthrights. “A Terrible Trade.”

One of the most common objections to God is this: If He's good, why does He allow evil, suffering, and injustice? That's a fair question—but it's the wrong starting point. A better one is: Where did evil, suffering, and injustice come from? The answer is harder to hear because the blame shifts from God to us. In Genesis 1–2, everything was good. But we disobeyed. We broke trust. We rebelled. And because of that, everything is broken—including us. Other worldviews can't adequately explain our condition—the relational complexities we face—or offer real hope. But Scripture does. It names the problem and reveals the remedy.

If God told you to ask Him for anything you wanted, what would you say? A chocolate chip donut? So much money that you could buy 200 things in a day? (Those were the answers my 3- and 5-year old sons gave.) Maybe you would ask for healing. Inner peace. Comfort. Relief. In 1 Kings 3, God tells King Solomon to ask for anything.

Guilt, shame, and fear—the fallout of sin. Guilt says, “I did something wrong.” Shame says, “I am something wrong.” Fear says, “I'm in danger.” We see all three of those emotions in Genesis 3 when Adam and Eve cover themselves, hide from God, and deflect blame. But the story doesn't end there. God pursues them, provides true covering, and promises a Redeemer. That's “The Fall-Out.”

How did humanity fall into ruin? A forbidden fruit and a subtle serpent factor in—no doubt about it. But at the end of the day, it was a choice. Nobody forced Adam and Eve's hand. The devil did not “make them do it.” That excuse will never fly. So what happened? First, the serpent deceived Eve. But what happened next is often overlooked. Eve deceived herself. She took another look at the tree and its forbidden fruit. The lie was sown and it instantly bore fruit. Eve viewed the tree differently now. It was good for food. It was a delight to the eyes. It was desirable to make one wise. Do you see the process? She redefined the tree. And so do we—every time we face temptation.

Have you ever wondered why dogs bite, paint fades, or women carry pepper spray at night? Why are relationships hard, kids afraid of the dark, and our phones buzzing with Amber Alerts? Genesis 2 had no sirens, hospitals, or cemeteries. But now brokenness fills our world. What happened? My Bible labels Genesis 3 as “The Fall.” At the end of chapter 2, everything was very good—love, trust, peace, and joy with no death or disease. But in chapter 3, it all went terribly wrong. Humanity fell—hard. How did it happen? What does it mean? And what hope remains?

This Is My Story is a collection of real-life testimonies from people in our church family whose lives have been transformed by the gospel. Each message highlights how God meets individuals in unique circumstances—bringing hope, redemption, and lasting change through Jesus. These stories aren't just inspiring—they remind us that God is still at work today. As you listen, you'll see the power of the gospel on display and be encouraged to reflect on your own story and how God is writing it.

When the church was birthed on the day of Pentecost in Acts 2, they had no strategy or technique for changing the world. They just wanted to worship Jesus—together. They prayed. They sang. They rejoiced. They grew. They ate. All together. They had a shared devotion, a shared life, and a shared mission. And revival broke out. That's not a formula for revival (God laughs at our formulas). But it is a beautiful life. It is a powerful life. It is a connected life. And as it turns out, it's also God's design for a healthy Christian Community. Are you connected—to God, to others, to His mission?

What is nostalgia? It's remembering when life was good—really good. It's remembering and longing to go back to better times. Or at least better moments. A snowy Christmas morning. A satisfying movie. A stirring book. A childhood song. The smell of home. C.S. Lewis called those longings “desires for our far-off country,” but warned not to misplace them. He wrote, “These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.” Those longings are echoes from Eden, our first home. We all yearn for a time before sin, shame, guilt, and fear wrecked our world. Want to know why your heart can get homesick, even while living in a loving home?

No matter which way you slice it, Jesus' message while He was here on earth was all about one thing: the kingdom of heaven. He called for repentance and belief because "the kingdom of heaven is here." Jesus' declaration raises immediate questions: What is the kingdom of heaven? How do we know it's here? Can I join the kingdom? To teach His followers more about God's kingdom, Jesus used parables about a mustard seed and leaven. He explains what the kingdom will do and how it will do it.

Security. Identity. Liberty. Beauty. Community. Those all fall under the category of universal longings. In other words, human beings have yearned for and sought after those things since the beginning of time. Well, almost since the beginning of time. Once upon a time, we had them all--in abundance. But that time was short-lived. We lost them. And now, we look for them in all the wrong places. Why? Genesis 2 offers us answers.

Hear a powerful story of transformation as a student shares how he encountered God in a life-changing way during his camp experience.

God made us to bear His image—to reflect and represent Him in the world. That's our design and it includes capacities like affirming human dignity, worshiping our Creator, acknowledging our God-given biological sex, exercising careful stewardship, pursuing relational enrichment, finding meaningful work, and even multiplying the human race. That's how God designed us. And that's how life works best. But because of sin, that design is under siege. Whether from the world, the devil, or the flesh, our image-bearing design suffers a multi-front attack. Knowing is half the battle.

In the beginning, God created Adam and Eve. He gave them His image. He gave them each other. He gave them a garden. And He gave them a task: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion.” What does it mean to “have dominion”? The word means to rule. To take charge. To control. To exercise power. That sounds scary. We know what “power” does in the wrong hands. But before sin marred the image of God in us, we were entrusted as God's stewards. His caretakers over earth. We were given authority and responsibility. You know how that ended. The world has been under poor management since Genesis 3. But God never rescinded that charge to us. We are still to exercise dominion. How can we—and more importantly, how should we—go about that.

Every second Sunday, we hear a testimony from a member of GraceLife. It could be a testimony of how they came to faith, or any other instance in their life where they saw firsthand the goodness of God.

What does it mean to be a human? How do we know what a mature, healthy human looks like? The answer to those questions is found back at the beginning—in Genesis. God said something shocking and revolutionary before he created us. He said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” God was essentially saying: “Let's make somebody that looks and functions like us; someone with our features.” He is using relational language. Let US. OUR image. Let THEM. Hear the theme? Human beings are relational creatures because they were made in the image of a relational being.

The Bible tells us how enslaving, corrupting, alienating, and defiling sin is. Over and over again, Scripture reminds us of the terrible consequences sin brings. But sometimes, God SHOWS us those truths in stories. The story of Naaman the leper from 2 Kings 5 is one of those graphic reminders of not just the destructive power of sin, but the redemptive power of God in the Gospel. Sin tears us apart, but God puts us back together again—better than before!

Civil Rights. Pregnancy Centers. Hospice Care. Social Services. Department of Justice. It's easy to take those for granted but impossible to account for them without the creation story in Genesis. Our image bearing privilege is the basis for many of the common grace benefits we enjoy. When God created us, he put his divine stamp upon us. He made us “in his image.” It's stunning to consider the implications (relational, vocational, cultural, political, and personal) and tragic to deny them.

Christians have a history of imbalance. We notice a distortion in a certain area of life and rush in to fix it. Then we discover that we over fixed it. We rode the pendulum. We overcorrected and therefore put ourselves out of balance again. One distortion with massive implications is our view of creation. How do we interact with the world in all its broken beauty? What perspective do we have on our bodies, the planet, food, drink, and marriage—just to name a few? Are they dangers to avoid? Gifts to indulge? Depending on which era of Christian history you land in, you could be impacted either way.