Tag: Bible

Untangling the 3 AM Knot: God, Fear, and Your Bank Account.

Alright, friends, happy Wednesday!
Let’s talk about that knot in your stomach. Yeah, that one. The one that starts small, maybe a little flutter, and then BAM! It’s full-blown, industrial-strength worry leading into the spiral that is anxiety.
It’s the kind that keeps you up at 3 AM, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’re ever going to catch a break.

We’ve all been there, right?
The bills pile up, the job situation gets shaky, and the future looks like a blurry, anxiety-inducing mess.
And fear? Oh, fear loves to whisper those “what ifs” into your ear, painting worst-case scenarios like a twisted Picasso.
It’s like your brain is running full-speed into its own horror movie, and you’re the star, and not in a good way.

Now, here’s the thing. We live in a world that sells us solutions.
“Just work harder!” “Invest smarter!”
“Manifest your dreams!” And sure, there’s some truth in taking action, in being responsible.
But what about when you’ve done all you can, and the weight still feels crushing?
When you’re running on empty, you have blisters on the palms of your hands from holding on so tightly and doing all that you can, but it’s just not enough? What about these times?
We’ve all been here in this place, right? It’s a very unsettling place to live, let alone linger because you have no other choice.

That’s where we get to the heart of it.
That’s where we get to the wild, beautiful, utterly disruptive message of Jesus.

See, the ancient Hebrew word for “worry” is related to the word for “divided.”
Think about that.
When we’re caught in the spin cycle of worry, our attention is split.
We’re pulled in a million directions, our focus fractured, our peace shattered. We experience that unsettling place some of us call ‘limbo’ and we’re living in a state of internal civil war.


I hope that as you read this, you’re not experiencing anxiety symptoms because let me share with you the cure.
It’s not a one-shot-one-cure, it’s a gradual thing. It’s a prescription that will help to pull us back from whatever ledge we find ourselves standing on in those limbo moments. So here it is:

Jesus invites us to something different. He says, “Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34). Now, he’s not saying we should be irresponsible. He’s not saying we should ignore our problems. He’s pointing to something deeper, something more fundamental.

He’s saying, “Pay attention. Look around. See the birds of the air? See the lilies of the field? They don’t toil or spin, yet your heavenly Father feeds and clothes them. And aren’t you worth much more than they?” (Matthew 6:26, 28-30).

I’ve written about this topic before, and I have to admit this is still hard for me…how about you?

This isn’t about some simplistic, “just have faith” platitude. It’s not some sort of stupid mantra about “if you just pray harder…” It’s about recognizing the reality of God’s presence, the reality of God’s care.
It’s about shifting our gaze from the swirling chaos in that limbo space where we’re just treading water…shifting our gaze to the steady, unwavering love that surrounds us.

Think of it like this: you’re in a boat in the middle of a storm. The waves are crashing, the wind is howling, and you’re terrified you’re going to sink. But then, you remember that the ocean itself is held in God’s hands. (please don’t sing “He’s got the whole world in His hands”)


But seriously, the storm doesn’t change that. The fear doesn’t change that.
But KNOWING that God’s got you changes that.

And yeah, the financial burdens? They’re real.
The stress is real. The “insufficient balance notices” – they’re real.
But here’s the thing: God isn’t surprised by your bank statement.
God isn’t shocked by the state of the economy. (or the cost of eggs)
God’s bigger than all of that.

He’s invited us to a life of trust, a life of surrender. Not a blind, passive surrender, but an active, engaged surrender.
A surrender that says, “God, I’m in way over my head. I’m scared. But I trust that you’re here. I trust that you’re working, even when I can’t see it. I trust that you’re making a way, even when it looks impossible.”

And sometimes, that way might look like a new job opportunity.
Sometimes, it might look like a helping hand from a friend.
Sometimes, it might look like an appointment made with a therapist (I’m serious, your mental health is important!)
Sometimes, it might look like a deep, inexplicable peace that settles over your soul, even in the midst of the storm.

It’s not about getting everything figured out – it’s never been about that.
It’s about knowing that you’re not alone.
It’s about remembering that you’re held, you’re loved, you’re seen.
And that, dear friends, that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

So, take a deep breath today in whatever limbo you find yourself in.
Let go of the knot in your stomach.
And remember, you’re not divided.
You’re held. You’re whole. You’re loved.
And that changes everything.

Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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Finding Our Way with a Little Bit of Light…(a pondering on Psalm 119).

Hey friends, let’s ponder on Psalm 119 today.
I know, I know, it’s a beast of a Psalm. It’s like, the longest psalm. Ever.
It’s got more lines than a line your neighborhood Chick-Fil-A at lunch time…well, you get the picture.
But stick with me, because there’s something wild in there. Something that’s gonna make you go, “Whoa.”

So, let’s zero in on verses 105-112, shall we?

Here it is (buckle up):

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path. I have taken an oath and confirmed it, that I will follow your righteous laws. I have suffered much; preserve my life, Lord, according to your word. Accept, Lord, the willing praise of my mouth, and teach me your laws. Though I constantly risk my life, I will not forget your law. The wicked have set a snare for me, but I have not strayed from your precepts. Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart. My heart is set on keeping your decrees to the very end.“

Okay, first off, “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” Done. Simple, right? But think about it.
We’re not talking about a spotlight, blinding you with certainty. We’re talking about a lamp. A little light in the dark.
You know, when you’re stumbling around in the middle of the night, trying to find the bathroom? And there’s that little plug-in night light to light your way and prevent you from stubbing your toe on that nightstand that’s trying to trip you.


That’s what this is. It’s enough light for the next step.
Not the whole staircase, just the next step.

See, we get so caught up in needing to know everything. We want the grand plan, the detailed map, the GPS (with the ETA of how long it’s going to take us to get there) coordinates for our entire lives.

But that’s not how it works, is it?
We get the next step.
And then the next.
And then the next.

And then, verse 107: “I have suffered much.”
Yeah, me too. You too. We all have. Life throws curveballs. It punches you in the gut. It sucker punches you in the nose when you’re not looking. And life tends to leave you wondering, “What just happened?”
But even in the midst of that, the psalmist says, “preserve my life, Lord, according to your word.”

It’s not about escaping the pain. It’s about finding a way through it. It’s about trusting that even when things are messy and confusing, there’s a light guiding you. Not a guarantee of a pain-free life, but a promise of presence. I know in previous postings we’ve talked a lot about this. But isn’t it encouraging to know that 1) you’re not the only one who wonders about stuff like this? And 2) God gets us. He knows us. He desires to journey along right beside us as we find our way through that next dumpster fire of a day.

The next step is lit…not the whole course of the journey just yet.

And then, verse 111: “Your statutes are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart.” Joy!
Right there in the middle of suffering, in the face of danger, there’s what?! JOY?
Not the kind of joy that comes from having everything figured out, but the kind of joy that comes from knowing you’re not alone. You’ve never been alone.
It’s the kind of joy that comes from knowing you’re connected to something so much bigger than yourself.

Because here’s the thing: you’re not just some random speck of dust floating through the universe.
You’re part of something incredible. Something beautiful. Something that’s been unfolding for a long, long time.

So, take a deep breath. Let that little lamp light your way. Take the next step. And remember, even in the darkness, there’s joy. There’s light. There’s hope. And you? You’re gonna be okay. Things are going to be alright. God has not left your side.

Grace & Peace.
-Pastor Scott.

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Get Hangry…Made for More

Hey Friends, happy Monday (or, again whenever you happen to read this).
I would like to ponder on Matthew 5:6 today. Yesterday I preached on this passage, so it’s relatively fresh in my brain, so as they say, strike when the iron is hot!


So, let’s talk about hunger. Yeah, hunger. The moment you become hangry, we all know about that ache? But this hunger isn’t just just for a sandwich, though, let’s be real, a good dagwood can be a deeply spiritual experience….mmm, okay, I digress.

But I’m talking about that deeper hunger. That thing inside that just…won’t…quit.

Matthew 5:6. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”

What a sentence. Just like that, Jesus drops this profound grain of truth:
“Blessed.” Not “bummed out,” not “stuck,” but blessed. For being hungry? For wanting something? See, most of us, we spend our lives trying to avoid that hunger. We fill it with…stuff. Distractions. Entertainment. Maybe even the “right” kind of stuff—good deeds, church attendance, you know, the whole checklist.
But what if that hunger, that thirst, is actually a gift?

Think about it. You ever been really thirsty? Like, desert-island, tongue-stuck-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth thirsty? When you finally find that water? It’s not just wet. It’s life. It’s revelation. It’s like the universe itself is saying, “Here you go, friend. You were made for this.”

Imagine with me the middle of the summer…it’s blazing hot. That was the temperature of Washington DC the day me and my family decided to sight-seeing. It was July and the dog days of summer were in full effect. It was scorching hot and we walked from the Smithsonian to the Washington Monument and then said, “why don’t we walk over to the Lincoln Memorial too – it’s not that far” And in actuality it’s not. It’s only about a mile from each other. But it just so happened that the summer we decided to go for this tour, the Mall’s reflecting pool which stretching out for a majority of the walk was closed. And so there were numerous construction barricades and detours on our trip.



To make matters worse all of our children were little. I mean we had a double stroller and children who apparently realized that their little legs no longer worked in the summer heat.
When we finally arrived at the Lincoln memorial we took lots of photos like every tourist and then, we had to walk the entire length of the mall and construction site which is the reflecting pool back to our parked car.

Along the way, we saw many war memorials and there came a point that a couple of our children almost joined them because both Shanais and I were completely soaked with sweat and exhausted from our “impromptu” sight-seeing trip. When we finally sat down that evening in an air-conditioned restaurant we asked for the biggest glasses of iced water they had. We were so parched, mouths dry, and feet that had just a few more blisters than they had when we had started out. 

We were both extremely thirsty and hungry after that extremely dry and hot day of walking.

But, Jesus isn’t talking about being hungry for the next shiny thing, or that next meal.
He’s talking about a hunger for righteousness. Now, hold up, don’t go grabbing your moral measuring stick. “Righteousness” isn’t about being perfect. It’s not about getting your spiritual GPA up.
It’s about rightness. It’s about things being as they should be.
It’s about wholeness. It’s about justice. It’s about love.

It’s that bone-deep feeling that something’s off. That the world isn’t working right.
That there’s more to life than what we’re seeing. That things can be better.

And that hunger, that divine discontent, that’s where the magic happens.
Because it’s in that space, in that longing, that we become open. Open to something more. Open to God.

See, God’s not some cosmic vending machine, waiting for us to put in the right coins.
God’s in the hunger. God’s in the thirst. God’s in the desire.
It’s the very thing that pulls us towards the divine.

And here’s the “Aha” moment: Jesus says we’ll be filled.
Not just a little sip, not a half-hearted squirt.
We’ll be filled. Overflowing. Abundant.

So, instead of trying to silence that hunger, maybe we lean into it a little today. Maybe walk around it, explore it, inquire about it. This spiritual hunger, this spiritual thirst – there’s more for us to experience as we dig deeper on this faith journey. Maybe we embrace it. Maybe we say, “Yeah, I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I want things to be right. I want to see justice. I want to be authentic, I want to live generously. I want to experience love.”

And perhaps in that very moment, we’ll find that the feast has already begun and all we have to do is find a seat at the table.

Grace & Peace.
-Pastor Scott.

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From Dumpster Fire to Safety and Hope…

Alright, friends, happy Friday! (have you been working for the weekend? -sorry I couldn’t help myself).
Let’s talk about Psalm 91 today.

You know, that one that’s like, “Yo, you wanna live under the shadow of the Almighty?”
And we are all like, “Um, yeah, I do!“

So, let me ask you this, do you ever feel like life is just throwing curveballs at you? And, like, they are curveballs that are on fire? You’re over here just trying to make it to Tuesday, and suddenly, boom! Plague! Famine! Angry lions!
(Okay, maybe not lions, but you get the picture.) It’s just a dumpster fire of a week, month, year…

Psalm 91 is all about that secret place. No, not the book The Secret Garden, although that one always makes me cry…
But in Psalm 91 – You know, that spot where you’re just chillin’ with God, under the Almighty’s wing. It’s like finding that perfect hammock spot in the shade on a super hot day. You just sink in, and you’re like, “Ahhh, yeah. This is it.”

Now, some folks read this and think, “Okay, so if I say these words, I’m automatically immune to everything bad.” Like it’s some kind of magical incantation. (insert the Harry Potter-verse here) But, hold up! That’s not how this works.

Think of it like this: it’s not about being protected from everything, it’s about being held through everything.
It’s about knowing that even when the arrows are flying and the ground is shaking, you’re not alone.
You’re in that secret place, tucked in, held close.

Verse 4 says, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings, you will find refuge.” Feathers! (I’m sorry, but why do I irreverently think of Big Bird from Sesame Street?!) But, Feathers?! Like a big, warm, divine bird hug.


How cool is that? It’s not about escaping the storm, it’s about knowing you’re safe in the middle of it.

I’m sure some of you reading this right now are in the middle of some storm of life.

And check this out: “You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day.” It’s not about having no fear, because, let’s be real, fear happens. It’s about knowing that fear doesn’t get the final say.
It’s about trusting that even when things are dark and scary, God’s got your back.

Think of it like this: you’re walking through a haunted house. It’s dark and spooky, and there are jump scares everywhere. But you’re holding hands with someone you trust. You might jump, you might scream, but you know you’re not going through it alone.

THAT’S THE SECRET PLACE.
It’s not a physical location, it’s a state of being.
It’s knowing that even when life’s a hot mess, a freaking dumpster fire…
you’re connected to something bigger, something stronger, something that loves you more than you can imagine.

So, perhaps next time, when you’re feeling overwhelmed, take a deep breath.
Find that secret place. Remember those feathers. Remember that you’re held.
And remember, you’re not alone. We’re all in this crazy, beautiful, messy thing together.
And God’s got us.

Grace and Peace friends!
Go live that feathered life!

-Pastor Scott.
(Have a great weekend, we’ll see you on Monday!)

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Feeling Alone? Here’s The Prescription

Happy Thursday, friends…or whenever you read this.

Let’s talk about Psalm 139.
Yeah, that one. The “You knit me together in my mother’s womb” one.
The “Where can I flee from your presence?” one.
The “Search me, God, and know my heart” one.

You know, sometimes we read these ancient texts, these poems, and we think, “Yeah, that’s nice,” To our Western minds it reads all cozy and fluffy like rainbows and puppy dogs, and we move on. But Psalm 139? This thing wants to get under your skin. It wants to mess with your assumptions. It wants to remind you of something so fundamental, so deeply rooted in the very fabric of reality, that you can’t ignore it. It’s like when the Holy Spirit tugs at your mind and prompts you to do something about it…that’s the kind of thought-provoking Psalm that 139 was written to be.

And what is Psalm 139 all about? What does it want us to know? What can we understand from such an ancient yet-still-relevant text of poetry?

Here it is…
are you ready for it?

You are known. Deeply, utterly, completely known.

Not just the surface-level stuff, like your favorite coffee or your go-to Netflix show.
No, we’re talking about the you that you sometimes try to hide. The parts you’re ashamed of, the doubts you wrestle with, the fears that keep you up at night. The real you no one completely knows – But God does.

David, the writer of this psalm, is freaking out a little bit, right?
He’s like, “Where can I go? If I go up to the heavens, you’re there. If I make my bed in the depths, you’re there.”

It’s almost like he’s trying to escape, but he can’t.
Because here’s the kicker: there is nowhere you can go that God isn’t already there.

Think about that for a second. Let it sink in.

We live in a world that tells us we need to perform, to prove ourselves, to earn our worth. That next level accomplishments is the measurement of success and “being a productive human”…
We’re constantly bombarded with messages about how we’re not enough.
But Psalm 139 says, “Before a word is on my tongue, you, Lord, know it completely.“

Before you even think it, God already knows. Before you even feel it, God already feels it.
Before you even mess up, God already knows.

And here’s the radical, mind-blowing, life-altering part: God isn’t freaked out by it.

God isn’t sitting up there, shaking their head and saying, “Oh, man, they messed up again.”
No, God is saying, “I see you. I know you. And I love you.”

This isn’t about some distant, judgmental deity. This is about a God who is intimately involved in your life, who formed you in your mother’s womb, who knows every hair on your head. Think about it, before you knew yourself – God knew you. Doesn’t that just blow your mind?!

And yeah, it can be a little scary. It can feel vulnerable. But it’s also incredibly liberating. Because when you realize that you’re already known and loved, you don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to put on a show. You can just be you.

David ends the psalm with a plea: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.“

It’s an invitation.
A call to honesty.
A willingness to let God into the messy, complicated parts of our lives.

So, here’s my encouragement for you today: embrace the knowing.
Let God see you. Let God love you. Let God lead you.

You are NOT alone. You are not forgotten.
You are deeply, utterly, completely known and loved.

And that, dear friends, is fantastic news.
Something more to ponder today.
Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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When Faith Comes To Dance…

Hey friends, have you ever gotten to a place in your spiritual life where doubt started to creep in and create a kind of identity crisis? Has that ever happened to you? It’s like one minute you’re faith is going strong, you’re connecting with God and things are fine, the next minute you’re questioning aspects of salvation that you never questioned before?

I think it’s important for us to recognize the need to really battle with our faith from time to time. It’s okay to ask the hard questions and, at times, discover you have some doubts. Scripture tells us to work out our salvation with fear and trembling…(Philippians 2:12). Paul doesn’t say “casually consider” or “flippantly cast aside”, no, he uses the word “work”.

Philippians 2:12 is a verse that can stop you in your tracks, isn’t it?
Work out your salvation? Like it’s some kind of cosmic CrossFit routine?
Suddenly, salvation feels less like grace and more like…a to-do list with a lot more sweat involved.

And then there’s the “fear and trembling” part. Yikes. That sounds intense.
Like we’re walking a spiritual tightrope, and one wrong move and whoosh – we’re plummeting into the abyss.

No pressure, right?

But what if… what if there’s something more going on here?
What if Paul’s not giving us a spiritual to-do list, but inviting us into something beautiful, something profound?

Think about it. “Work out” – the original Greek word is katergazomai. It’s not just about gritting your teeth and pushing through. It’s about bringing something to completion. It’s about cultivating something. Like a gardener tending a plant. You don’t just have a garden, you work it. You nurture it. You care for it. You bring it to its fullness.

This is from Shanais’ garden. All the flowers were vibrant and attracting lots of pollinators


My wife loves to garden.
I mean, sometimes even to the point of obsession.
But when she tends the plants, when she works at it, cultivating, hydrating, ensuring the soil has enough nutrients and is at a sufficient PH level, the gardens she is able to produce are magnificent. It’s beautiful, it’s profound. Where once was this kind of barren patch of grass, not a dark-rich, healthy soil contains vibrancy, life and beauty that causes some of our neighbors to be envious.

So, these words “Work out” means we bring something to completion. We cultivate our spiritual journeys, we nurture our faith even when the weeds of doubt tend to sprout up sometimes. And when we care for it, the right kind of faithful fruit is produced…

So maybe, just maybe, Paul’s saying that salvation isn’t a static thing you just get and then you’re done.
Maybe it’s something you participate in.
Something you grow into. Something you live.

And what about the fear and trembling? Is that about being terrified of God’s wrath? I don’t think so. I think it’s more about awe. It’s about recognizing the sheer magnitude of what God has done for us. It’s about being overwhelmed by the incredible, scandalous, mind-blowing love that’s been poured out on us. It’s a reverent, humble awareness of the divine mystery that surrounds us. Like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon – you’re not necessarily scared, but you’re definitely moved. You’re humbled.

See, this whole verse, it’s NOT about earning God’s love. It’s about responding to it. It’s about letting that love transform us from the inside out. It’s about allowing that grace to shape us, to mold us, to make us more like the people we were created to be. That, my friends is what the faith journey is all about. Not some secret formula, or mantra we utter every day. It’s not some kind of ritual we follow to make us more holy. It’s a journey that requires real work to cultivate the right soil for deeper roots.

It’s not about striving in our own strength. It’s about surrendering to the power of God’s love and letting that work in us, through us, and all around us.

So, yeah, work out your salvation. Not like it’s a burden, but like it’s a dance. A beautiful, messy, sometimes scary and occasionally out of rhythm, but it’s always an amazing dance with the Divine. And do it with awe. Do it with wonder. Do it with a heart overflowing with gratitude. Because that, my friends, is where the real transformation happens. That’s where the real life begins. Don’t be afraid of doubt. Let it wash over you sometimes like an off-beat in the rhythm of faith…then get back to the dance.

Grace and peace,
Pastor Scott.

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Kindness: Lifting Heavy Hearts.

“Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up” -Proverbs 12:25

Okay, friends, here we are again with another daily pondering.
And today, let’s talk about heaviness. We all know it, right? We know what heaviness is and how it impacts our lives from time to time. It can sometimes manifest itself like a feeling in your chest, that cloud hanging over your head, that sense that you’re wading through mud even when you’re just walking to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Heavy.


Life throws things at us – grief, disappointment, fear, the sheer overwhelm of existence sometimes –(it’s like the whole kitchen sink is lobbed at us) and it can weigh us down. It can make us feel like we’re the mythological character Atlas who is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And it feels like we might just crumble under the pressure.
I totally get it. You get it. We’re all in this together.

And that’s where this little nugget from Proverbs comes in. Chapter 12, verse 25: “Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.” Simple, right?
But like so many of these ancient truths, there’s a depth here that can really…well, lift us up. (Pun intended, I couldn’t resist.)

Think about that word “anxiety.” The Hebrew word there, de’agah, it’s not just your everyday worry.
It’s more like a deep, gnawing, almost paralyzing kind of care. That feeling that something is fundamentally wrong, that things are spiraling out of control. We’ve all been there. And when that kind of anxiety hits, it can feel like you’re trapped. We’re alone. Like there’s no way out, and so we cry out for help, but no one can hear us.
It’s like the weight is just…too much.

But then, the second part of the verse. “A kind word cheers it up.” Now, notice something. It doesn’t say “a powerful word.” It doesn’t say “a life-changing word.” It says kind. A simple, genuine, kind word.

Think about the last time someone said something truly kind to you. Maybe it was a friend, a family member, a stranger on the street. Maybe it was just a simple, “I see you,” or “You’ve got this,” or “I’m here for you.” Didn’t it make a difference? Didn’t it, even for a moment, lighten the load?

That’s the power of kindness.
It’s not some magic bullet that makes all your problems disappear.
It’s not a quick fix for deep-seated anxieties. But it’s a start.
It’s a crack of light in the darkness.
It’s a reminder that you’re not alone.
That someone sees your struggle, acknowledges your pain, and offers a bit of…hope.

And here’s the thing: we can be that kind word for someone else.
We can be the ones offering that little bit of light.
Think about the people in your life who are struggling. Maybe it’s someone you know well, maybe it’s someone you barely know.


Reach out.
Offer a kind word.
A genuine compliment.
A listening ear.

You have no idea the impact it could have. You have no idea how heavy someone else’s heart might be. And your simple act of kindness could be the thing that helps them keep going.

So, my friends, let’s remember this.
Let’s remember the power of kindness. Let’s remember that even in the midst of the heaviest of times, a kind word can make a difference. It can lift a heart. It can offer hope. And it can remind us all that we’re in this together.
And that, is always beautiful thing.


Something more to ponder on today.
Grace & Peace…
-Pastor Scott.

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Beyond Fear and the ‘What-ifs’

I sought the Lord, and he answered me.
He delivered me from all my fears.

Simple words.
Profound truth. Ancient wisdom for modern anxiety.

What if…

What if your fears aren’t the end of the story? What if there’s something beyond the paralysis, beyond the what-ifs, beyond the worst-case scenarios that play on endless loop in your mind?

Here’s what David discovered:

There’s a seeking. An answer. A deliverance.

But let’s back up. (beep, beep, beep)
Let’s talk about fear for a moment.
Fear grips us. Constricts us. Whispers lies about who we are and what’s possible.
Fear tells us we’re alone, tells us we’re not enough, tells us the darkness is winning. So many lies…

But what if…

What if fear isn’t the truest thing about you?
*mic drop*

What if there’s a voice louder than fear?
A presence stronger than fear?
A love deeper than fear?
And that voice and send fear packing, evicting its presence.

This is what David tapped into. This is the reality he discovered.

The Seeking

“I sought the Lord,” David writes.

Not “I figured it out on my own.”
Not “I powered through.”
Not “I pretended everything was fine.”
Not “I put out a poll with my friends to see what to do next.”

No, David sought. He reached out. He admitted his need.
Could there be something in admitting we need God?
Could there be something to discovering His strength is what’s been missing all along?

What if your seeking is the first step toward freedom? What if your questions, your longings, your restlessness – what if they’re all part of the journey toward deliverance?

The Answer

“…and he answered me.”

Simple. Direct. Profound.

David sought. God answered.

What if God is more eager to respond than we are to ask?
What if the universe is designed for us to find this divine connection, in favor of love, in favor of being heard?

The Deliverance

“He delivered me from all my fears.”
Not some fears. Not most fears. All fears.

What if complete deliverance is possible?
What if freedom isn’t just a nice idea, but a lived reality?
Did Jesus say, “The Kingdom of Heaven is here”? It’s right here, not out there somewhere in the universe – but accessible. Here. Now.

Here’s what I want you to consider:

Your fears don’t define you.
Your anxiety doesn’t have the final word.
Your past doesn’t determine your future.

There’s a seeking available to you right now. There’s an answer waiting to be heard. There’s a deliverance that can rewrite your story.

So maybe, just maybe, it’s time to seek. To reach out. To admit your need.

Because on the other side of that seeking?

That’s where the answer lives.
That’s where deliverance waits.
That’s where you discover who you really are.

And who you really are?
That’s the beginning of wisdom when we align who we are with who God is…perhaps it starts the other way around and we begin with seeking the Lord. He will answer you.

It’s beyond the confines of fear – it’s transformative and can shed light in all of the spaces fear has occupied.
And that my friends is worth seeking after.

Grace & Peace
-Pastor Scott.

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The Dangers of Deconstructing Faith

Hey Friends,
Let’s grab the proverbial cup of coffee – strong, mind you, like the kind that’ll keep you up all night wrestling with angels – and let’s talk about this thing called deconstruction. It’s the word that seems to be on everybody’s lips these days, doesn’t it? Like some catch-phrase or a brand new invention – which it’s most certainly not. It’s like getting fixated on a new pretzel shop but instead of enjoying the twist, we’re twistin’ scripture, turnin’ it inside out salt and all, lookin’ at it under a microscope, tryin’ to figure out if it’s really… real.

Now, I understand the impulse. I do. We’ve all got questions. We’ve all got those nights when the darkness seems thicker than molasses and we’re cryin’ out, “Where are you, God?” Life throws us curveballs, and sometimes, the Sunday school answers just don’t cut it anymore. They feel… flimsy. Like a screen door in a hurricane.

So, we start picking at things. This doctrine, that verse, this preacher’s sermon. We start pulling at the threads, trying to see if the whole tapestry of faith will unravel. And sometimes, dear friends, it does. Or at least, it feels like it does.

See, the danger of deconstruction, as I see it, isn’t the questions themselves. Questions are vital. They’re the engine that drives us closer to truth. Even doubt, in a way, can be a form of faith, a wrestling with the divine. Like Jacob at the Jabbok, we grapple with God, trying to pin Him down, to understand Him, to make Him fit into our neat little boxes. It’s funny that even that part of the Jordan river “Jabbok” means to wrestle with…but I digress.

But the big danger lies in what we replace the old with. If we tear down the house of our faith brick by brick, what do we build in its place? Do we leave an empty foundation, swept clean by the winds of cynicism? Or do we try to cobble together something new, something that suits our modern sensibilities, something that feels… comfortable?

Comfort, now, that’s a tricky thing. Jesus didn’t exactly preach comfort, did He? He talked about taking up our cross, about losing our lives to find them. He turned the tables, challenged the status quo, and consorted with the outcasts. Comfort can lull us to sleep, make us complacent. It can blind us to the very things that make our faith vibrant and alive.

Perhaps because there is comfort in our Western concept of Christianity we have created this space for complacency, while the fastest growing Church can be found in places of discomfort like African, South America and Asia…

Deconstruction, without a sincere desire to rebuild, can lead to a kind of spiritual homelessness. We wander in the wilderness, lost and confused, clinging to fragments of belief like driftwood in a storm. 40 more years, wishing we could just start over. We become so focused on what we don’t believe anymore that we forget what we do believe.  Does that make sense?

Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t question. Far from it. But let’s be honest with ourselves. Are we genuinely seeking truth, or are we just looking for an excuse to walk away? Are we willing to actually wrestle with scripture, to engage with the great thinkers of the church, to do the hard work, to pray with all our might for understanding? Or are we simply cherry-picking the parts that suit us, discarding the rest like unwanted leftovers…or some kind of fast food ala cart menu?

The Christian faith, at its heart, is a story of redemption. It’s a story of grace, of love, of forgiveness. It’s a story that’s been told and retold for centuries, a story that’s sustained countless souls through trials and tribulations. And while it’s okay to question the way we’ve interpreted that story, or the ways it’s been twisted and misused, let’s be careful not to throw the baby out with the bathwater.  

What do you think about this topic? Please join the conversation and add your comments below, we encourage a healthy dialogue.

Grace and Peace
-Pastor Scott.

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Naked & Afraid – What Are You Waiting For?

Okay Friends, Let’s tackle a pondering that I still struggle with, and perhaps you do too.
This is karate kick to the gut, a mind-blowing challenge…the crane kick from Karate Kid.
(Wax on, wax off..)

This all about exchanging our control for vulnerability. In a world that tells you to never be vulnerable – it’s a sign of weakness, so don’t do it – God comes to us and implores us to be an open book, to lay it all down and allow Him to actually see us – warts and all.

In the journey of faith, there exists this profound invitation—it’s a beckoning to embrace vulnerability before the Divine. This call is not merely a suggestion, rather, it’s a sacred pathway to encountering the depth of God’s grace and presence in our lives.

Vulnerability, in its essence, is the raw courage to lay bare our hearts before God, to strip away the façade of perfection (all the phoniness, all of the masks we put on, all of the personas we pretend to be) -all stripped down, taken off and we allow our true selves to finally be seen. It’s in this very act that we open ourselves to the transformative power of divine love, unfiltered and unconditional. When we finally do (and I’ve been there a time or two, but admittedly, I’ve tried to put the masks back on) – but in those moments, freedom happens, transformation begins, and true strength is realized.

When we approach God with vulnerability, we acknowledge our humanity—the highs and lows, the joys and sorrows, the triumphs and struggles. We cease pretending to have it all together (because we don’t) and instead we surrender to the mystery of God’s embrace, knowing that our weaknesses are met with divine strength.

Boom. Mic Drop.
It’s not simple.
It takes real courage to admit we don’t have it all worked out, or we are lacking.

In Scripture, we find numerous examples of this sacred vulnerability. The psalmists, in their poetic honesty, cry out in anguish, pour out their doubts, and express their deepest longings before God. Job, amidst his suffering, boldly questions and wrestles with God, refusing to hide his pain or confusion. And Jesus himself, in the garden of Gethsemane, bares his soul before the Father, pleading with vulnerability, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”

These are visceral.
These are real emotions.
These are authentic people, including a very human Jesus – crying out to God.

This vulnerability before God is not a sign of weakness but of profound trust—a recognition that God meets us in our authenticity and brokenness. It is through our vulnerability that we open channels for divine healing, restoration, and transformation to flow into our lives.

God doesn’t want our rote practices of religion.
He doesn’t desire our leftovers.
He can’t stand our fake pretenses and emotional pleas when our hearts aren’t truly in it.
God seeks to know us – and for you and me to get real about our relationship to Him.

Moreover, embracing vulnerability before God fosters deeper intimacy and communion with the Divine. As we actually begin to share our true fears, real doubts, and hopes openly, we invite God into the innermost chambers of our hearts, where true communion is born. It’s in these sacred moments of vulnerability that we discover God’s unconditional love, which knows no bounds and accepts us just as we are.

We don’t come before God as strangers, instead He invites us in as family, as loving children.

In a world that often values strength and self-sufficiency, the act of vulnerability before God stands as a counter-cultural testament—a radical declaration of trust and surrender. It invites us to release our grip on control and instead entrust our lives into the hands of the One who created us, knowing that in our vulnerability, God’s grace is more than sufficient.


I preached this past Sunday on Matthew 5:3, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven” When we come before God in our poverty… When we approach the Creator of the Universe in our limited temporal shells… When we stop playing church and start being the Church – we essentially are opening our hands and declaring, like the prophet Isaiah did, “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” (Isaiah 6:5).

Vulnerability is hard.
It takes courage.
It’s laying bare all of your ugly blemishes and embarrassing faults.
But consider what happens after.
God transforms.
God’s love and permeate.
He can truly shine in you.
Vulnerability elevates us while our continued self-sufficiency and false pretenses only serve to limit, hold back and diminish us.

So friends, what will it be?
What will it take for us to finally embrace the sacred power of vulnerability before God?
Not as a mere gesture but as a transformative practice that opens the door to divine encounters, deepens our faith, and nurtures our souls.

My prayer for each of us is that we find courage in our weaknesses, strength in our surrender, and the abiding presence of God in our every moment of this journey.

In this sacred dance of vulnerability and grace, may we discover anew the profound truth that in our weakness, God’s power is made perfect – and where true growth can be attained.

Grace and peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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