Most of us don’t need help imagining broken plans. Life has a way of undoing the script we carefully wrote. A diagnosis. A relationship that falls apart. A dream that hits the wall. A moment that leaves you thinking, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

John 6 gives us one of the most honest moments in the entire Gospel. A massive crowd follows Jesus after seeing miracles and eating bread on a hillside. They loved what Jesus could do for them. They loved the teaching. They loved the benefits. None of that bothered Jesus, but He knew the difference between excitement and devotion. He knew the difference between a fan and a disciple.

Most people know the feeling of being hungry. Not the light kind of hunger that sends you to the pantry, but the deeper ache that gnaws at the inside of your life. You can have a full schedule and still feel empty. You can check every box and still feel like something is missing. It is the kind of hunger that comes from somewhere deeper than the stomach. Scripture calls it the hunger of the soul.

John 4 tells a story that never gets old. Jesus sits beside a well at noon, tired from walking, and meets a woman who has learned to live with her shame. She is a Samaritan. She is alone. She is not looking for a spiritual moment. Yet Jesus has a divine appointment with her, and He keeps it.

Have you ever gone through the motions spiritually? You pray, sing, and serve, but somewhere deep down you feel disconnected from it all. The words come out, the motions look right, but your heart feels somewhere else.

Most of us know what it feels like to chase fulfillment and come up empty. We set goals, build careers, raise families, and enjoy the good things of life, but still end up feeling like something is missing. It’s like grabbing at fog—you can see it, but you can’t hold it.

Every person wears masks. Some are obvious, like costumes and roles. Others are subtle, like the way we hide behind success, status, or the pressure to look like we have it all together. What we long for, though, is to live unmasked. To have the life we live in private match the life we display in public, and for both to align with faith in Jesus.

The Gospel of John opens with one of the most staggering truths in all of Scripture: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Unlike the other gospel writers, John doesn’t start with Bethlehem or Nazareth. He takes us all the way back before time began to remind us that Jesus has always existed.

John 21 gives us a powerful picture of what happens when grace meets failure. After Jesus’ resurrection, Peter and several disciples went back to fishing. For Peter, it wasn’t just a hobby—it was the life he knew before following Jesus. After denying his Lord three times, he may have thought his ministry was finished.

Many people know the phrase, “Jesus saves.” It’s true, but the gospel is far more than a simple slogan. When Scripture speaks about the gospel, it presents the good news of what Jesus has done to save sinners. And when the gospel is understood in its fullness, it reshapes how life is lived.

Most of us know what it feels like to get stuck. Maybe it’s in fitness, work, or even in our walk with Jesus. We try to make progress, but eventually we stall out. Why? More often than not, it’s because we’re trying to do it alone.

We live in a world drowning in voices, opinions, and hot takes. Every scroll, every headline, every conversation seems to tell us what to believe, what to feel, and what to do. But beneath all the noise, one voice stands apart: the voice of God in the Bible.

We all know prayer matters. But if we’re honest, most of our prayers stay in one of two lanes: Basecamp prayers – asking God to meet personal needs. Worship prayers – asking to draw closer to His presence.

We live in a world that constantly pulls at our attention. Every day, something else competes for our loyalty—our jobs, our goals, our screens, even good things like family and friendships. But over all that noise, there’s a clear, compelling call from Scripture: make much of Jesus.

Have you ever been so frustrated that you just lost it? Maybe over traffic, spilled coffee, or a toddler’s tantrum. But what about getting angry at grace? That sounds almost unthinkable. Yet that’s exactly what Jonah did.

We’ve all wished for a reset button. A chance to go back, choose differently, and clean up the mess we made. Whether it’s a moment of weakness, rebellion, or regret, something in us longs for a fresh start. The good news is, God is a God of second chances. The story of Jonah reminds us that failure doesn’t disqualify us. It positions us for grace.

Have you ever reached a point where you felt completely lost—like you’d gone too far, failed too deeply, or wandered too long to be welcomed back? If so, the story of Jonah offers a piercing truth: God’s mercy runs deeper than our darkest moments.

Have you ever asked God for direction—then rejected the answer because it wasn’t what you wanted? You’re not alone. Many of us long for God’s guidance… until it confronts our comfort, challenges our preferences, or calls us into unfamiliar territory. That’s exactly where we find Jonah—not just running from a place, but resisting a posture of surrender.

We live in a world fractured by blame, division, and mistrust. From broken families to online feuds to church splits, relationships often rupture more easily than they’re repaired. But the gospel offers a better way—a way marked not by bitterness or silence, but by reconciliation.

In today’s culture, bitterness is everywhere. From online arguments to fractured relationships, we’re often encouraged to hold grudges, cancel people, and protect ourselves at all costs. Forgiveness? That’s seen as weakness—something optional, even foolish.