Discipling Life

Here are three takeaways from the lectionary texts for this Sunday First: Grace That Reorders Our Fears When Jesus calls us to follow him, He doesn’t promise an easy path. He promises his presence. And that changes everything. Grace doesn’t just comfort us in our fear—it transforms our fear. Grace reshapes our loyalties, our desires, and our courage. Grace teaches us to trust Christ more than we trust our anxieties. If you’re facing conflict or uncertainty today, hear this good news: You do not walk alone. Grace is already at work in you. “Do not be afraid… you are worth more than many sparrows.” — Matthew 10:31 Second: When Loyalties Collide Sometimes following Jesus brings us into tension with the people and patterns we love most. Family expectations. Cultural pressures. Personal ambitions. But Jesus doesn’t call us to fear—He calls us to faithfulness. And the Spirit gives us the courage to live it. Sanctifying grace is the slow, steady work of God reshaping us into Christ’...

Have you ever just needed to go to a safe place? Maybe you feel hurt or misunderstood or ashamed, or whatever. When I was a child, I felt especially safe at my grandparents’ home. When I was small, we actually lived there for a while until my father could build us a house right next door. There are moments in life when we feel like the ground shifts beneath our feet. A phone call we didn’t expect. A diagnosis we didn’t see coming. A relationship that suddenly feels fragile. In those moments, even the strongest among us can feel unsteady. We look for something solid to hold on to, something that will not crumble under pressure. We need places and people that hold us when life presses in too hard. Psalm 31 begins right there, in that honest place where fear and faith meet. The psalmist cries out, “In you, O Lord, I seek refuge; do not let me ever be put to shame; in your righteousness deliver me” (v. 1). This is not a polished prayer. It is the kind of prayer we whisper when we are ...

In this sermon titled “A New Life,” I explore how the risen Christ meets us in our most fearful and isolated spaces , just as he did with the disciples on that first Easter evening. We often find ourselves huddled behind locked doors due to psychological paralysis or the weight of a world that has fallen apart, but the miracle of the resurrection is that Christ does not wait for the air to clear before he enters the room. This message highlights the “new birth” as a radical, internal reconstruction of the soul rather than a mere behavioral “patch job,” anchoring us in a “living hope” that persists even through suffering. Grounded in the Wesleyan truth of prevenient grace , we see that God always moves first, taking the initiative to breathe his Spirit into our wreckage and transform us into a forgiven community. Ultimately, I want to emphasize that this new life is not about the exhaustion of trying harder, but about trusting in the divine promise of the one who has already conquer...

The people of Israel were standing at a new threshold. Moses had died. Joshua was about to lead people into a future filled with promise — and danger. As a pastor, I know the fears that creep into our churches. Fear of decline. Fear of conflict. Fear of not having enough—enough money, enough volunteers, enough energy. We stand at our own Jordan Rivers, looking at a future we can’t control, and we feel like Joshua must have felt: like a novice, standing on holy ground, unsure of our next step. Into that moment God speaks with steady, simple words: be strong and courageous. He says “be strong and courageous” three times to Joshua. God reminds him: “I will be with you. I will not fail you or abandon you.” Courage, in this light, is not the absence of fear. Courage is the decision to trust God’s presence and obey his word more than we trust our fear. Those words are not just for ancient Israelites. They are for you and me when life moves us to new places: a new job, a move, the grief...

There are days when the world feels heavy. News headlines, personal struggles, and uncertain futures can stir up anxiety in our hearts. There are moments in life when the heart feels crowded with questions. What will happen next? How will this turn out? Where am I going, and how will I get there? Sometimes those questions are small and everyday. Sometimes they come in hospital rooms, at kitchen tables, or in the quiet of the night when sleep will not come. Into that very human space of worry and uncertainty, Jesus speaks these words: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me” (v. 1). [ See all of John 14:1-6 here .] Jesus speaks these words to his disciples on the night before the cross. They sense that change is coming, and not the kind of change they want. He has just told them that he will be leaving them, and their hearts are shaken. Yet Jesus does not scold them for being afraid. Instead, he invites them to trust. Our faith in Christ does not re...

On the afternoon of May 24, 1738, John Wesley attended a vespers service at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. During the service, he was deeply moved by the singing of an anthem drawn from Psalm 130 — the De Profundis (Latin for “Out of the Depths”)— which opens with the cry, “Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord.” At the time, Wesley was in the midst of a profound spiritual crisis. He felt weighed down by a sense of sin and was tormented by his inability to earn salvation through his own efforts. The themes of Psalm 130 — a desperate cry from the depths of despair, followed by an assurance of God’s mercy and “plenteous redemption” — mirrored his inner struggle so closely that the anthem struck him with unusual force. Here was a Psalmist who had cried out from the same darkness Wesley felt, and who found hope not in human merit, but in the grace of God alone. That evening, Wesley attended a meeting on Aldersgate Street, where someone was reading aloud from Martin Luther’s...

While I prepare these devotions each week, I am also praying over the texts for sermon preparation. This week I have been praying over and studying these texts: 1 Samuel 16:1‑13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8‑14; John 9:1‑41 During Lent, we often pray for clearer vision—eyes to see God, ourselves, and our neighbors with honesty and grace. The scriptures for this week invite us into that kind of seeing. They remind us that God’s light exposes what is hidden, heals what is broken, and calls us into a new way of living. Seeing as God Sees (1 Samuel 16:1‑13) When Samuel is sent to anoint the next king, he looks at Jesse’s oldest son and thinks, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord” (1 Samuel 16:6, NRSVue). But God gently corrects him: “the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (v. 7). David is chosen not because he looks the part, but because God sees something deeper. God’s anointing rests on those who are...

The narratives in John’s Gospel are lengthy, so I am breaking them up into two parts when they come up in the lectionary. Today we continue our look at John 9 . Yesterday we looked at the encounters and conversations that we encounter in John 9. Today we look at some of the themes. Lent calls us to confront darkness—within and around us. John 9 masterfully weaves themes of blindness and sight, light and darkness, sin and restoration, inviting us to see ourselves in the story. 1. Blindness vs. Sight (John 9:39–41) The chapter’s core question isn’t “Who sinned?” (v. 2) but “Who truly sees?” The blind man moves from physical darkness to spiritual sight: he worships Jesus (v. 38). The Pharisees, though physically sighted, are spiritually blind, trapped by rigid tradition. True sight begins when we admit, “I don’t see everything.” 2. Light vs. Darkness (John 9:4–5) Jesus declares, “We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As lo...

John 9 is one long story told through a series of conversations. Each one reveals something about Jesus, something about the people around him, and something about what it means to grow in faith. As we walk through these interactions, we begin to see how grace works—quietly, patiently, and sometimes in ways that surprise us. Let us look deeper into this story where physical blindness reveals deeper truths about faith, fear, and authority. Let’s walk through four key encounters: 1. Jesus and the Blind Man (John 9:6–7) Jesus heals a man born blind by making mud with saliva, anointing his eyes, and sending him to wash in the Pool of Siloam. The man obeys without hesitation—and receives sight. Notice Jesus’ compassion: he initiates healing before the man even asks. This isn’t about merit; it’s grace in action.  2. The Healed Man and the Pharisees (John 9:13–34) The Pharisees interrogate the healed man, dismissing Jesus as a “sinner” for healing on the Sabbath. The man’s testimo...