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.

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.

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.

Have you ever asked yourself: How would my life change if I truly believed God was with me—every moment, every season? Would it shift how you think, how you react, how you live?

Life rarely unfolds the way we imagine. One minute we feel secure, and the next, we’re stuck in a metaphorical pit—confused, hurting, and wondering where God is in it all. The story of Joseph offers us a raw, honest look at how God moves through life’s most painful detours—and how we can still trust Him even when everything feels like it’s unraveling.

We love to plan. Whether it’s jotting lists, building spreadsheets, or mapping out life in bullet points, we crave the sense of control planning brings. We organize our schedules, chart our careers, and try to predict every curveball life might throw. We plan because we think if we’re prepared enough, we can avoid chaos.

Have you ever noticed how some people seem to carry a distinct aroma with them? Like a grandmother's house that leaves its scent on you long after you've left. There's a profound difference between merely being around someone and truly being with them. The same applies to our relationship with Jesus.

In our modern world, we find ourselves living in the "anxious generation." Despite having access to more medicine, health information, resources, and safety than ever before, anxiety disorders affect at least 50 million people. But what if anxiety isn't the real problem? What if it's merely an alarm, signaling that something in our lives needs attention?

In a world where 50 million people and counting struggle with anxiety, it's time to reframe our understanding of this pervasive issue. Anxiety isn't the problem – it's the warning light alerting us that we've created a life our mind and body can't sustain.