Discipling Life

Have you ever noticed how gratitude can change the atmosphere of your day? A thankful heart does not ignore life's difficulties, but it helps us see God's goodness even in the midst of them. Psalm 33 begins with an invitation: “Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous. Praise befits the upright” (v. 1). The psalmist calls God's people to sing, celebrate, and worship, not because life is perfect, but because God is faithful. Praise is a fitting response to the God who remains worthy in every season. The reason for this praise is found in God's character. The psalm declares, “For the word of the Lord is upright, and all his work is done in faithfulness” (v. 4). God's promises can be trusted because his actions consistently reflect his goodness. He loves “righteousness and justice,” and “the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord” (v. 5). Even when we encounter uncertainty, we can look for signs of God's steadfast love at work around us and in us. As we resp...

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come into his presence with singing” (Psalm 100:1-2). This psalm reminds us that worship is not merely a duty to fulfill but a joyful response to the God who has lovingly created and redeemed us. We belong to him. We are “his people, and the sheep of his pasture” (v. 3). The psalm also calls us to remember God’s character. We are invited to enter his gates “with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise” (v. 4). Gratitude changes the way we see the world. God’s grace is already at work around us and within us, drawing us closer to himself. As we respond with thankful hearts, we become more aware of his presence and more open to his transforming work. Worship is one of the ways God shapes us in holiness, teaching us to trust him, love him, and reflect his goodness in our daily lives. Psalm 100 concludes with a beautiful promise: “For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulnes...

Today is Holy Trinity Sunday. This Sunday invites us to stand at the threshold of mystery and wonder. The scriptures for this day do not try to explain God as though God could be reduced to a formula; instead, they draw us into worship of the living God who creates, blesses, saves, and sends. There is a beautiful mystery at the heart of our faith: the God who commands the stars is the very same God who chooses to dwell in our midst. God is not a distant, detached observer, but a relational and life-giving community of love, constantly reaching out to connect with us. The opening words of Genesis reveal a God who is active and life-giving from the very beginning. "In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth" and "a wind from God swept over the face of the waters" (Genesis 1:1-2). Before order emerged from chaos, God's Spirit was already present, hovering over creation with purpose and care. The world did not come into being by accident. It was b...

Psalm 8 is a hymn of praise that celebrates the majesty of God revealed in creation and the surprising dignity given to humanity. As the psalmist looks at the heavens, “the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established,” he marvels that God is still mindful of human beings (vv. 3-4). Though humans seem small in the vast universe, God has crowned them “with glory and honor” and entrusted them with care over creation (v. 5). The psalm holds together awe and calling, reminding us that while God’s greatness is beyond measure, God’s grace draws near, inviting us to live responsibly and faithfully within the world God has made. The psalmist holds together two truths that seem almost impossible to reconcile. God is vast beyond comprehension, and yet God is attentive, mindful, and caring toward us. Psalm 8 reminds us that God’s love surrounds us. The beauty of creation, the pull toward goodness, the longing for meaning, and the quiet stirring of worship are all si...

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 ...

There are some days when gratitude comes easily. It’s a nice day. Things are going well. We feel safe and secure. But there are also days when giving thanks feels harder, when burdens weigh heavily and joy seems distant. And yet, in both kinds of moments, we hear this invitation from the psalmist: “Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come into his presence with singing” (vv. 1-2). [see  Psalm 100 ] The psalm calls everyone, not just the joyful or the put-together, but all the earth, to enter God’s presence with praise. Even when joy feels distant, grace goes before us, stirring our hearts and inviting us to respond. The psalm continues, “Know that the Lord is God. It is he that made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture” (v. 3). This is the language of belonging. Here we are grounded in identity. We belong to God before we achieve anything or prove ourselves worthy. The psalmist continues, ...

There is a kind of awe that stops you mid-step. Maybe you’ve felt it at the edge of a cliff overlooking a valley, or seeing the sunrise on the beach, or watching a thunderstorm roll in across wide-open fields. It is a moment that brings change. Something inside you goes quiet. You sense that you are in the presence of something far greater than yourself. Psalm 114 is a poem built entirely from that kind of awe. The psalmist recalls the Israel’s Exodus from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land and describes it in sweeping, even playful images. The sea sees God coming and runs away. The Jordan River turns back. The mountains skip like rams. The hills leap like lambs. It sounds almost whimsical, until you realize what is really being said: when God moves, all of creation responds. Nothing can remain unmoved in the presence of the living God. Israel’s story begins with grace. The people did not free themselves; they were  brought out . When the psalm tells us that “the...

In Psalm 116 , the psalmist begins with a beautiful declaration of love: “I love the Lord, because he has heard my voice and my supplications. Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live” (vv. 1-2). This isn’t some distant God we worship; it is a God who leans in close, like a parent bending down to hear our faintest whisper. Even in our most desperate moments, when “the snares of death encompassed” us, God was already there, reaching out before we even knew how to ask for help. Consider how the psalm moves from desperation to gratitude. “What shall I return to the Lord for all his bounty to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord” (vv. 12-13). The psalmist recognizes that grace received invites a response. Not repayment, because grace cannot be earned, but a life of thanksgiving, worship, and faithful living. This is the beginning of sanctifying grace at work, shaping a heart that desires to love God more dee...

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...

Here in North Carolina, we are surrounded by the evidence of springtime. Amid the discomfort of the yellow haze of pollen, we see the blossoming of Dogwood trees, the blooms of the daffodils by the roadside, and hear the burst of songbird melodies. There’s something about this season that mirrors the confidence of Psalm 16 . The psalmist prays, “Protect me, O God, for in you I take refuge… The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup” (vss. 1, 5). This is a trust that believes life, not death, has the last word. The psalm begins with refuge and ends with resurrection hope. “You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (v. 11). These words take on deeper meaning in the light of Christ’s rising. What the psalmist glimpsed, Easter reveals. The path of life leads through death but does not end there. God’s faithfulness holds us beyond what we can see. In Psalm 16, the psalmist declares, “I keep the Lord always before...

Psalm 90 is a prayer that holds together two truths we often keep apart: God is eternal, and our lives are short. “For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past” (v. 4), yet our days “are soon gone, and we fly away” (v. 10). In Lent, this psalm invites us to face our limits honestly—not to frighten us, but to lead us into wisdom. It names the reality of sin and the weight of time. And yet, it also offers hope—a plea for wisdom, mercy, and the beauty of God’s favor resting on our lives. The psalm begins with an affirmation: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations” (v. 1). Before anything else existed, God was. That means we are never alone. Even when life feels uncertain or fleeting, God remains our home. Moses, the identified author of this psalm, doesn’t shy away from hard truths. He speaks of human frailty: “You turn us back to dust… our years come to an end like a sigh” (vv. 3, 9). He names the consequences of sin and the reality o...

This sermon was preached on March 22, 2026, at Ebenezer UMC and Black Creek UMC for the Fifth Sunday of Lent. The scriptures of the day are: Ezekiel 37:1-14, Psalm 130, Romans 8:6-11, John 11:1-45 . 1. Being Stuck Have you ever felt truly stuck? It is a sensation that defines so much of our human condition. We often use the word metaphorically—we are stuck in a career, stuck in a grief that won’t lift, or stuck in an old pattern of behavior. But whether it is emotional, mental, or physical, being stuck is a form of paralysis. It is that heavy, suffocating moment when something wraps itself around your heart or your spirit and simply refuses to let go. This state of being bound creates a barrier between the person you are and the life God intended for you to live. I remember when I was at Duke Divinity School and I was serving as a student pastor for three churches in Sampson County. It was a long two-hour drive between the two, and to maintain my sanity amidst the rigors of study...

This week we have been looking at the scripture texts assigned by the lectionary for this Sunday — the Fifth Sunday of Lent. Ezekiel 37:1–14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6–11; John 11:1–45 Each of these scriptures points us to the heart of God’s promise: death does not have the final word . Lent leads us through times of emptiness, confession, and longing, but always with the whisper of resurrection waiting ahead. In Ezekiel’s vision, God brings the prophet to a valley full of dry bones. It is a place that once held life but now lies silent and bare. God asks, “Can these bones live?” Only God knows the answer. Then the breath of God moves through the valley, and the bones rattle together, rise, and live again. The Spirit brings life where there was only death. The breath of God brings renewal. What seemed hopeless is restored. Psalm 130 echoes that same cry—from the depths of despair, the psalmist waits for God’s mercy. “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.” Even...

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...