All Things Messiah

Isaiah 53 — a reflection on how our wounds and brokenness are often the very places where God's light breaks through.

Peter and John don’t know what they will find when they reach their destination, but they go anyway. It is good to remember that the empty tomb is not discovered by those who stand still, but by those willing to move toward the mystery, toward the possibility that God has done something new and unexpected.

This Holy Week, may we meditate on the thirst our Savior endured for us. This painting by Rubens is powerful. It doesn’t just paint the moment Jesus is taken down from the cross—he slows it down, softens it, and lets us feel the weight of it. Every hand, every fold of cloth, every beam of light invites us to consider not just what happened, but what it means to carry Christ even now.

In Ephesians, God says that we are his masterpiece. Isn’t it good to know that something worn down by life is, most certainly, still a masterpiece, like these boots?

Jesus says some things that are confusing and disturbing. However, even if our minds don’t always understand, hopefully our hearts can.

In this season of Lent, may we recognize, and repent of, our stubbornness to heed the plea of a savior who longs for us to come to him.

How three little words have the power to transform marriages, families, businesses, churches, and countries.

During this Lenten season, our sermons will explore the beautiful rhythm of Christian worship: gathered by grace, fed by Christ, and sent to serve.

No matter how much you’ve been torn up, crumpled, or stomped on, you still have value, because the Person who created you is the one who determines your value.

Today is Ash Wednesday—one of my favorite days in the church year. Why? Because for me, it tears down all the pretenses that I’ve got it all together… that I am in control.

Many of us trust Jesus to help a little—but not to change everything. We trust him with problems that feel fixable—but not with the ones we think are finished.

We do not need to measure our lives against others to know who we are. Our identity is not found on the other side of the wall—or screen—but in Jesus.

Asking God for daily bread is also a prayer for a fair and flourishing social order.

St. Matthew and the Angel is one of Caravaggio’s most fascinating—and controversial—religious paintings.

I was attempting to organize all things in storage over Christmas break and somewhere between old photos and half-remembered keepsakes, I pulled out a timeworn book from 1938 titled Christ and the Fine Arts . My sorting came to a full stop. I sat right down on the floor, surrounded by piles of things, and let myself be drawn into its pages.    One of the treasures I found there was Arthur Hacker’s painting The Annunciation —a depiction of the moment when the angel tells Mary

The New Year invites us to look at the blessings in our lives. What do we take for granted? We reflect on the Old Year. We can’t change it, yet we hope to learn something from having lived through it. Each New Year, I like to share this devotion from Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest. I pray it blesses you.

John’s Gospel tells us that “the Word became flesh.” That simple sentence carries enormous weight.

This nativity reminds me that God’s love is not distant or pristine. It is close, ordinary, and deeply personal. It shows up in the familiar, the faithful, and the everyday. It curls up beside us and stays.

As we move through this season, may our hearts mirror that kindly robin. May we give as God has given to us—freely, joyfully, and without exception. And may every seed of kindness we scatter point others back to the manger, where love himself was born.

With humility he said, “You practiced grace on me. You gave me not what I deserved, but what I needed.”