In this Thursday reflection on 1 John 4:7–21, three beloved verses anchor the whole passage. First, John’s pointed challenge — how can you claim to love a God you’ve never seen while hating your neighbor standing right in front of you? — is sharpened by Dorothy Day’s searching line: you only love God as much as you love the person you love the least. Our love for God and love for neighbor aren’t separate categories; they’re proportionally linked. Second, perfect love casts out fear — not because we won’t experience fear, but because we don’t have to be ruled by it. God is not a divine scorekeeper waiting for us to fail; he is for us, and knowing that deeply changes how we move through the world. Third and most foundational: the passage doesn’t just say God loves, but that God is love — a statement not about what God does but about what God fundamentally is. His very nature is love. And if we are being conformed into his image, then we too will love — because that is what God is, and that is what we are becoming.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Thursday as we continue through First John. And as always with this little letter — there are verses in today’s passage that you probably know by heart. Let’s read them together. First John chapter 4, verses 7 through 21:

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us. By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the Savior of the world. God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us. Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”

Three verses in this passage are especially dear to me, and I want to work through them — starting at the end and working back to the foundation.

How can you love God who is unseen, yet hate your neighbor who is seen?

John’s logic here is airtight. I have experienced God deeply — in my faith, in my ministry, in my life. But I have not had a transfiguration moment where Jesus appeared in blinding glory. I’ve seen God through people and through the work of the Spirit, but I have not physically seen God. So how could I claim to love a God I cannot see, while hating my brother or sister standing right in front of me?

There’s a line from Dorothy Day — the great Catholic reformer — that has always stayed with me: you only love God as much as you love the person you love the least. That’s a searching word. My love for God is, in many ways, measured by my love for my neighbor. They’re not separate things. They’re proportionally linked. So the question worth sitting with today is: how am I loving the people right in front of me?

Perfect love casts out all fear.

This is huge, and I don’t want to rush past it. So much of our life can be dominated by fear — fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of not measuring up. And I think a lot of that fear, if we’re honest, is rooted in a distorted picture of God. We unconsciously imagine God as a divine scorekeeper in heaven, waiting for us to mess up so he can get us. But that is not who God is. God loves you. God is for you. And if we truly know that — if that settles into the deep places of our hearts — then perfect love casts out fear. Not that we won’t have fears, because of course we will; we’re human. But we don’t have to be ruled by fear. We don’t have to live dictated to by it. Because you are perfectly loved by a perfect God.

God is love.

This is the foundation of everything. And I want to be careful here, because there’s an important distinction. The passage doesn’t just say God loves — though he does, deeply and completely. It says God is love. That’s not a statement about what God does. It’s a statement about what God is. His very nature. His very being.

I think of the old Wesleyan hymn — Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown — a beautiful tune that I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever sung in a church that actually used it, but the final line is this: thy nature and thy name is love. Not God loves. God is love.

Tim Keller used to say that God’s nature has two essential sides — love and holiness — and that both of our great spiritual struggles are tied to losing sight of one or the other. When we forget that God is holy and only see his love, we slide into temptation — it doesn’t matter how I act, God loves me anyway. But when the enemy hides God’s love from us and all we see is his holiness, we slide into accusation — why even try? I’ll never measure up. Temptation forgets holiness. Accusation forgets love. And both can lead us into dark places.

So don’t ever let either slip. God is holy. And God is love. That is the very heart of who he is.

And if we are going to have the image of God restored in us — if we’re going to be Christians, little Christs — then we are going to love. Because that’s what God is. That’s what we’re being conformed into.

So today: love your neighbor, because you can’t claim to love a God you can’t see while neglecting the person standing right in front of you. Don’t be afraid, because perfect love casts out fear and God is not out to get you. And rest in this deep truth — not just that God loves you, but that God is love. He can’t help it. It’s his very nature.

Tomorrow we start chapter 5, and then we’ll be wrapping up First John before moving into Second John. Thanks for being with me today — have a great rest of your day!

In this Wednesday reflection on 1 John 4:1–6, the familiar verse — greater is he who is in you than he who is in the world— anchors a practical and pastoral call to discernment in a noisy world. We serve a mighty God who doesn’t need us to defend him; the gates of hell will not prevail, and nothing will thwart his plan. But that confidence in God’s strength is paired with a real responsibility: test the spirits, because not every voice claiming to speak truth is from God. Three practical tests emerge from the passage — does it confess Jesus as Lord? Does it produce the fruit of the Spirit? And does it create fear? Healthy caution is one thing, but voices that constantly inflame anxiety and dread are not from God — the same God who told Joshua over and over, do not be afraid, for I am with you. The call is simple: be intentional about what you let shape your soul, and build your life around the voices that draw you closer to Jesus.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Wednesday. Hope your week is going well. It’s Bible study night here at Saint Matthew’s — if your community offers Scripture study, small groups, or youth and children’s activities tonight, I hope you’ll take part. We’re getting close to the end of the semester and I always love these last few weeks of wrapping things up together.

Today we’re starting chapter 4 of First John — verses 1 through 6:

“Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world. By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God; and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. And this is the spirit of the antichrist, of which you have heard that it is coming; and now it is already in the world. Little children, you are from God, and have conquered them; for the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. They are from the world; therefore what they say is from the world, and the world listens to them. We are from God. Whoever knows God listens to us, and whoever is not from God does not listen to us. From this we know the spirit of truth and the spirit of error.”

I grew up reading the King James, so what’s permanently lodged in my brain is: greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world. That’s just what lives up there, and I love it. We talked yesterday about how if God is for us, who can be against us — and this is the same current. We are more than conquerors through Jesus Christ. We can have hope and confidence not just because of the goodness of God, but because of the strength of God. We don’t serve a weak God. We serve a mighty God.

There’s a line from a Bono interview — I think it was around the No Line on the Horizon era — where he says, “Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady.” I just love that image. We sometimes act as though God can’t stand on his own two feet, like we have to defend him, prop him up, protect Christianity from whatever the latest threat supposedly is. But Jesus himself said the gates of hell will not triumph against the church. Nothing is going to stop God. Nothing is going to thwart his will and plan. He is the literal creator of all things, seen and unseen. He’s God. We can trust him. Lean not on your own understanding — trust in him, because he’s got this. Come, thou Fount of every blessing — tune my heart to sing thy grace. That’s the posture. Let God be the frequency. Let him be the source and the strength.

Now — the first part of this passage is just as important: do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits. Not every Facebook post is from God. Not every TikTok, not every tweet, not every Instagram reel, not every cable news segment. Not every voice speaking into your life is from God, friends. There is so much noise out there right now — from every direction, from personal interactions to social media to just the general roar of everything — and we need to be thoughtful about what we’re letting in and what we’re allowing to shape us.

So how do we test the spirits? John gives us the first marker: does it confess Jesus Christ as Lord? That’s the baseline. But I’d add two more things I personally look for. Second: does it produce the fruit of the Spirit — in the speaker, in the source, and in me when I consume it? If what I’m reading or watching or listening to is producing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control — that’s a good sign. And third: does it create fear in me?

Now, there’s a difference between healthy caution and fear. Being smart isn’t fearful. Going to the doctor isn’t fearful. Taking reasonable care of yourself and the people you love isn’t fearful. But when a voice is constantly ratcheting up anxiety, stoking dread of others, making the world feel like a place where danger lurks around every corner — that’s a spirit of fear, and that’s not from God.

Think about Joshua chapter 1. Joshua had the most daunting task imaginable — leading the people after Moses. And what did God say to him, over and over in that chapter? Do not be afraid. Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for I am with you. The same God who was with Moses is with you. Do not be afraid. And the reason we don’t have to be afraid? Greater is he who is in you than he who is in the world.

So here’s the practical word for today: test what you’re reading, watching, and scrolling. Test what you’re letting speak into your soul. Ask whether it confesses Jesus, whether it’s producing fruit, and whether it’s building courage or manufacturing fear. Then listen to the voices that are drawing you closer to Jesus, pushing you toward obedience, and calling you to love. Build your life around those voices — and you’ll find yourself living in the confidence of the God who is greater than anything the world can throw at you.

Tomorrow we’ll pick up with chapter 4, verse 7. Have a great day!

In this Tuesday reflection on 1 John 3:11–24, the passage’s command to love one another is grounded in the defining act of love itself — Christ laying down his life — and extended outward: love not just in word, but in truth and action, and not just toward fellow believers, but toward neighbors and enemies too, because the whole of Scripture leaves no room for a narrow definition of who deserves our love. The commandment John lands on is beautifully simple: believe in Jesus and love one another. We make faith far more complicated than it needs to be. But the heart of the reflection is verses 19 and 20 — a passage the preacher has carried since early faith: whenever our hearts condemn us, God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. So many of us are weighed down by guilt, regret, and internal condemnation that quietly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. John’s answer isn’t to minimize the weight of that — it’s to say that God, who knows every single thing about us, loves us still. You don’t have to keep carrying it. You are loved more than you can imagine.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this beautiful Tuesday. Hope your day is off to a good start — coffee in hand, ready to spend some time in God’s word. I’m excited to be with you today because this section of First John has some of my absolute favorite verses in all of Scripture. Let’s read it together — First John chapter 3, verses 11 through 24:

“For this is the message you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another. We must not be like Cain who was from the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous. Do not be astonished, brothers and sisters, that the world hates you. We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death. All who hate a brother or sister are murderers, and you know that murderers do not have eternal life abiding in them. We know love by this: that he laid down his life for us — and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses to help?

Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments and do what pleases him. And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.”

Before we dive in, I want to flag something. When John says to love one another here, he’s specifically talking about love within the community of believers. And I want to be clear — that’s not a permission slip to stop there. There are layers and layers of other Scripture that call us to love our neighbors, love our enemies, love the world as God loves the world. Someone once pointed out that Jesus divides the world into two groups — friends and enemies — and we’re to love both. So yes, this passage is about the love Christians have for each other. But there’s no “out” on loving people who don’t share our faith. Cain didn’t love, and whoever does not love abides in death. That’s not a narrow category.

Now — to the part of this passage I really want to sit with.

Verse 18 is where John lands the commandment: believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another. That’s it. We make faith so complicated sometimes, don’t we? We really do. And John just cuts right through all of it. Believe in Jesus. Love each other. If we genuinely focus on those two things, they will consume the vast majority of our time and energy and orient everything else about how we live.

But the verses I love most — the ones I’ve carried with me for decades — are verses 19 through 20: “By this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.”

I don’t know if you’re like me, but when I first became a Christian, I fell completely in love with Scripture. Some of you may remember the old ‘90s NIV Student Bible — I think mine was entirely yellow from highlighting. And this verse is one I’ve meditated on ever since.

Because here’s the thing: our hearts condemn us. A lot. We carry around regret from past sins, guilt over things we’ve struggled with for years, grief over mistakes we made in relationships — with our spouse, our children, our parents. So many of us drag around a weight of internal condemnation. And if we’re not careful, that condemnation becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We feel unloved and unlovable, so we push people away, and we end up alone — when none of that had to be the case.

But John says: God is greater than our hearts. He knows everything.

God knows everything about you, friends. Your thoughts. Your actions. What you’ve done and what you haven’t done. There is not a single part of your life hidden from him. The Psalmist knew it — where can I flee from your presence? If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, you are there. Even the darkness is not dark to you. Nowhere. We can’t flee from his presence.

And here’s what that means: God knows everything about you, and he still loves you. He is not out to get you. He is not angry with you. He is not against you. He is for you. And if God is for us, who can be against us? We confess our sins, and he is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. You don’t have to keep holding on to the mistakes of the past.

Now — I’m not saying you can snap your fingers and make the pain disappear. I’m not saying the struggles just vanish. I know it’s not that simple, and I’m not going to pretend it is. But I am saying this: you are loved. You are loved more than you can possibly imagine. Imprint that on your soul. And when your heart condemns you — when you feel like you’ve gone too far or done too much — remember: God is greater than your heart. He knows everything. And he loves you still.

I hope that verse is as much of a blessing to you as it has been to me all these years. Tomorrow we move into chapter 4. Have a great day — see you then!

Every place I’ve served has taught me something. I’ve served in the Delta (Boyle, Linn, and Litton UMCs), East Mississippi (Coy UMC), Northeast Mississippi (Ripley FUMC), the Pine Belt (Asbury UMC), and for the past eleven years, I’ve been in the Metro Jackson area (St. Matthew’s UMC). It was announced this past Sunday that I am being appointed Senior Pastor of Starkville FUMC at this year's Annual Conference. One of the things that I found interesting in every appointment is that there seems to be a “dominant” industry. In the Delta, farming, East Mississippi, timber. In Petal, it's the military. Because of how close Camp Shelby was, at one point, I had seven Lt. Colonels in my church. That’s a lot of officers! But I learned to have such great respect for their sacrifices and those of their families.

I used to joke with my officers that United Methodist preachers are like military officers in that we have a document we are sworn to uphold (the Constitution, the Bible, and the Book of Discipline), we have commanding officers (Generals and Bishops), and we go where we are sent.

That’s a key part of life in the military and in the United Methodist Church. We go where we are sent. The picture above was taken on June 13, 2006. This would have been my daughter’s second birthday, and it was also the night I was ordained and an Elder in Full Connection within the United Methodist Church. It was in that service that I took my vow of Word, Sacrament, and Order. In other words, I promised to preach the word, administer the sacraments, and order the church via our shared life together as found in the Book of Discipline.

In regular language, that means to preach, to baptize, serve communion, and help to organize our life together. Part of “life together” as United Methodists is our connectional nature.

The United Methodist Church is a connectional church. Some have said that the only thing all Methodists share in common is that connection. One would hope that we would share more than just a common polity and organization, but there is no denying that one of the most “Methodist” things that we have is connection. That connection is also our greatest strength.

This connection defines who we are. One thing all of us as United Methodists agree to adhere to is that connection. The connection affects not only the clergy, but all the laity and local churches as well. The very phrase “local church” in itself shows the connectional nature of the United Methodist Church. Each church is a local church, not the “church.” It is a local extension of the greater church, and that means that each local church is connected to that greater church.

This has always been our tradition as Methodists. Within the early days of Methodism, the connection between the local societies was John Wesley himself. He would ride from town to town preaching and organizing. Societies were linked through him. This early linking of the societies through Wesley was the beginning of the connection. Today’s connection has been passed down through the tradition of Wesley, but it also has theological and practical causes and applications.

The theological foundation of this connection is that the Church is one. There is one Lord, Jesus Christ, and one body, the Church. We affirm this through our Creeds and doctrine. Practically, this is seen in what is called the trust clause. Through this, all property of the local church is held in trust by that local church and deeded to the annual conference. This trust clause was originally established by John Wesley. It was done to ensure the Methodist preaching houses were actually Methodist and that the church was holding to established doctrinal standards. It was determined which preachers were to be sent to which houses, and with the houses deeded to Wesley, they had to accept the preacher that he sent, and that ensured that correct Methodist doctrine was being preached.

This trust was originally established to ensure the standards were upheld, and today it ensures that the local church will accept the preacher it is sent and that the Discipline is being followed. While originally established to ensure that Wesley’s standards were upheld, today this deed does much more than that. Today, it shows the connected nature of our church. Each local church, by its very nature, is linked and has to stand as a part of the greater whole.

The Bishop and Cabinet, as Wesley did, seek to match the needs of the local church with the gifts of the pastors within that Conference. Because of this, we preachers must be sent. We find Biblical foundations for this in Acts 13:1-3. There, the church “sent out” Paul and Barbabas for ministry:

Now in the church at Antioch there were prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon who was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen a childhood friend of Herod the ruler, and Saul. While they were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Then after fasting and praying they laid their hands on them and sent them off.

We call this “sent-ness” itinerancy. Preachers itinerate, going where they are sent by the bishop. This shows once again the connectional nature of our church. The preachers are not members of a local church; rather, they are members of the annual conference to which they belong, which sends them to local churches within its scope. This is how Wesley did it, this the UMC has done it, and this is how we do it now. It is who we are. It makes me think of the line from The Godfather 2 from Hyman Roth

…and I said to myself, this is the business we’ve chosen.

So, just like my military friends, I go where I am sent. It is the promise I made to God. Our system is not the only one, but it is the one we are part of. It reminds me of a quote from Winston Churchill:

Many forms of Government have been tried, and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed it has been said that democracy is the worst form of Government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.

While it may not be perfect, it is who we are. And each place I have ever been sent has blessed me and taught me something. And I pray, through God’s grace, I have taught them each something and been a blessing. I am better for each church, and I hope each church is better because of me. I have seen God use it, and I know that God will use it again, for me, and for us, and for all our churches, once again.

In this Monday reflection on 1 John 2:29–3:10, a passage full of beloved verses — the Father’s lavish love in calling us his children, the funeral liturgy promise that when he is revealed we will be like him, and the declaration that the Son of God came to destroy the works of the devil — John also presents an apparent tension: if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves, yet those born of God cannot sin. The resolution isn’t that Christians achieve sinless perfection, but that the children of God are never content in sin — we give the Spirit room to convict us, we confess, we receive forgiveness, and we keep moving forward. The honest pastoral word is that we often struggle with the same sins repeatedly, and that’s frustrating. But God’s grace is not limited by our failures. Using the image of a rope being cut and knotted back together each time we are forgiven, the reflection pictures grace as the very thing that draws us progressively closer to God — so that even in our stumbling, he is pulling us nearer.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Monday. Hope you had a wonderful weekend and are looking forward to a good week.

Today we’re picking up in First John at what is technically the end of chapter 2, rolling into chapter 3 — one of those places where the natural flow of the passage doesn’t quite line up with the chapter break. And that’s a good reminder that chapters and verses are a fairly modern invention — modern meaning medieval. When Scripture was originally written, none of those divisions existed. They were added later to make studying easier. That’s why you sometimes get passages that feel like they belong in a different chapter — like 1 Corinthians 13, which to me has always felt like it should just be part of chapter 12. “And now I will show you a more excellent way” — that’s clearly setting something up, and it flows naturally right into the love chapter. Anyway. Today we’re starting at chapter 2, verse 29, and reading through chapter 3, verse 10:

“If you know that he is righteous, you may be sure that everyone who does right has been born of him. See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. Everyone who commits sin is guilty of lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. You know that he was revealed to take away sins, and in him there is no sin. No one who abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him. Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous. Everyone who commits sin is a child of the devil; for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The Son of God was revealed for this purpose, to destroy the works of the devil. Those who have been born of God do not sin, because God’s seed abides in them; they cannot sin because they have been born of God. The children of God and the children of the devil are revealed in this way: all who do not do what is right are not from God, nor are those who do not love their brothers and sisters.”

There is a lot in this passage. Let me start with the things that just get me every time.

“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God — and that is what we are.” There’s a Steven Curtis Chapman song called “Speechless” that I love deeply, and it quotes almost that exact verse — oh, how great is the love the Father has lavished upon us, that we should be called the sons and daughters of God. Every time I read this passage, those lyrics just rise right up. That’s the only appropriate response. Speechless.

And then verse 2: “What we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” That passage is part of the United Methodist committal liturgy — the words we say at gravesides. I’ve said those verses hundreds of times over the years of ministry, and they never get old. We are children of God now. What we will fully become hasn’t been shown to us yet. But we know this — when we see him, we will be like him. What a hope.

And verse 8 — “The Son of God was revealed for this purpose: to destroy the works of the devil.” I love that. Jesus came to destroy evil. To dismantle it. To bring forth the Kingdom of God. Evil will not have the last word, because of the work of Jesus.

Now — here’s the tension in this passage that’s worth sitting with. Back in chapter 1, John said if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves. But here in chapter 3 he says those who have been born of God do not sin — they cannot sin, because they have been born of God. So which is it?

This is actually where it fits together, and I think it connects well to what we’ve been talking about all along. John isn’t saying that a child of God will achieve some state of sinless perfection where they never mess up again. He’s talking about the posture of our hearts. Christians should never be content in sin. We should never be comfortable just staying in the places where we know we’ve drifted from God. We give the Spirit room to convict us — and when he does, we confess, we receive forgiveness, and we move forward.

Here’s what’s honest though: we often keep struggling with the same things. That’s frustrating, isn’t it? We take something to the altar, we confess it, we receive forgiveness, we mean it with everything in us — and then we find ourselves struggling with the very same thing again. How many times did Jesus say to forgive? Not seven times — seventy times seven. And if that’s the standard for us forgiving each other, imagine the grace God extends toward us.

See how great is the love the Father has lavished upon us. God’s grace is not limited by your sin. His love has no ceiling.

I’ve heard it described this way: God gives us a little bit of rope, and every time he meets us in our sin and forgives us, he cuts the rope and ties it back together. Cuts it, ties it together. Cuts it, ties it together. And what’s actually happening is that every time sin is confessed and forgiven, the knot brings us a little closer. The rope gets shorter. We are drawn nearer. That’s what grace does — even in our sin, even in our falling and getting back up, God is pulling us closer and closer to himself.

So it’s not about snapping our fingers and becoming perfect. It’s about walking each day through God’s grace, giving the Spirit room to show us where we’ve drifted, and then receiving the forgiveness that was promised back in chapter 1. That’s the rhythm. That’s how it all works together.

You are so loved, friends. I hope you know that today. Have a great day, and I’ll see you tomorrow!

I’ve always liked the concept of a “North Star.” I’ve never been a sailor, and have no intention of ever becoming one. I always say I’m a Methodist, I don’t need all that water, but, to my understanding, Polaris, or the North Star, is one of the most useful tools for navigation. It’s the brightest star in its constellation, and it is situated nearly directly over the North Pole. Because of this, it is an excellent navigational tool. If you need to know where you are, or where you need to be headed, you can always look to the North Star, and it can tell you.

I like that. I like that a lot. I can imagine being lost at sea, tossed by the wind and waves, and not knowing what to do, where to turn, or how to make it. What do you do? You look to the North Star.

It’s crazy out there, y’all. Doesn’t life just seem to be coming at us full steam? It all feels disorienting sometimes. There’s just too much information and data coming at us at all times. I think of the Marvel movie where Tony Stark (Iron Man) met Peter Parker (Spiderman), and he was making fun of the goggles he wore. Peter said that after he became Spiderman, there was too much coming at him, and he needed something to focus with.

Have you ever felt that way? With everything happening locally, in our state, in our nation, in the world, we are just overwhelmed. And all of this comes at us from so many places and directions, social media, TikTok, YouTube, podcasts, and all kinds of media. So often we just feel like we are like that boat, tossed and torn by the waves.

I remember years ago when I was discerning a lot of things about my future, I emailed a dear mentor, and I asked him, what was his North Star. What did he look to when he was lost? What did he look to when he didn’t know which way to go? What did he turn to?

I’ve thought a lot about that conversation as the years passed, and I’ve asked myself that question repeatedly. What is my North Star? What do I turn to? How do I know right from wrong? How do I know where to go? And every time I ask that question of myself, I think of the words of Hebrews 12: 1-2:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

What is my North Star? Jesus.

Well, duh. I’m a Christian. Not only that, but I’m an ordained pastor. The answer to that had better be Jesus. I think for most of us, that would be the answer. But if that’s the answer, it raises another question. What does it mean? What does it mean to say that Jesus is our North Star? That’s the question I struggled with for so long. I’d like to share with you what it means to me, Andy Stoddard, to say that Jesus is my North Star.

First, it means that my identity is found in Jesus alone. Today, this is huge. I’ve written about this recently. My deepest truth is that I am a Child of God and a follower of Jesus Christ. That is my deepest identity. That must come before my politics. It must come before my sports allegiance. It must come before my denominational or theological membership. It must come before everything. It must even come before my identity as a husband, a father, a pastor, a friend. My identity must be found in Jesus before it is found in anything else.

So often we find our deepest identity in something other than Jesus, and these things cannot support the weight of that identity. Politics, spirits, and even family cannot bear the soul’s weight. Only Jesus can do that. I have to be secure in Him before anything else in life makes sense. My deepest truth must be the Lordship of Jesus Christ, before anything.

Second, I will seek to model my life by His ethics. How Jesus lived must be how I live. If Jesus is my North Star, then I must seek to live by the same values He lived by. I think we see those values laid out quite well in the earlier Hebrews passage. He disregarded the shame of the cross, seeing it as joy to be obedient to the will of His Father. He did not seek His own way. He did not seek His own will. He humbled Himself. He served. He loved. He obeyed. Even though He didn’t “have” to. He did. He humbled Himself even to the point of death on the cross. He did this because through His death, He would forever defeat death. He knew that this way of the cross, this way of sacrifice, would be the path that brought freedom.

If Jesus is my North Star, I must be the same. I cannot seek my power, my fame, my influence. I cannot seek what Andy wants. I have to submit the will of Andy to the will of Jesus. That is what it means to live out his ethics. Not power. Not might. None of these things. Humility. Service. Dying to self. Taking up your cross. That is who Jesus is. If He is my North Star, then through His grace, that must be who I am as well.

Last, I seek to follow His commands. The great thing about His ethics is that He has shown them to us. And I believe the Christian life can best be understood by looking at the Sermon on the Mount. There is so much here, but here are just a few things he told us there:

21 “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder,’ and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ 22 But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment, and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council, and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.

38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ 39 But I say to you: Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also, 40 and if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, give your coat as well, 41 and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. 42 Give to the one who asks of you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 so that you may be children of your Father in heaven, for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.

6 But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

12 “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you, for this is the Law and the Prophets.

Y’all. This is hard. But this is the way. If I am going to make Jesus my North Star, then I simply cannot hate my enemies. I must pray for those who curse me. I have to do right by everyone. I have to love EVERYONE. When Jesus tells us to love our enemies, that’s not just words. He means it.

If I say I am going to follow Jesus, then I have to do that. I must. I must.

So, back to where we started, things are hard now. I know. But when I want to give in to anger or hatred, I cannot. If I want to harden my heart, I cannot. If I want to fight, strike, and punch, I cannot.

I have to look to Jesus. I have to. I must. He is my Lord. He is my North Star. As Christians, friends, we have to build our lives around this. We must. If we are going to say Jesus is Lord, we must. This must be what we do.

No matter what culture, or powers, or political systems, or principalities say. It must be about Jesus. He is our North Star.

If you don’t know what to do, look to Jesus. And then pray for the grace, the community, and the support to be obedient. Together, friends, with Jesus as our North Star, I believe through His grace and love, we can win our streets, our neighborhoods, our towns, our states, our nation, and our world for Jesus. May we never exchange the glory of God for human idols or systems.

May Jesus be our North Star.

In this Friday reflection on 1 John 2:18–28, John’s warning about “the antichrist” gets reframed in a way that’s far more practically useful than the endless game of identifying one singular villain — whether that’s Mikhail Gorbachev’s birthmark in the ‘80s or whoever’s being cast in that role today. John’s real concern is the plural: many antichrists, defined simply as anyone who denies the Father and the Son. The more honest question for us is how we ourselves deny Christ — not in our stated beliefs, but in our actions, our words, and the company we keep on social media and beyond. The reflection lands on a pointed diagnostic: look at the voices you allow to speak into your life, and ask what they’re producing in you. If the fruit is anger, contempt, and division, those voices are pulling you away from Jesus regardless of how righteous they sound. John’s closing word is simple: abide in him — and be very careful what you let shape your soul.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning, and happy Friday! Hope you have a great weekend ahead. We don’t have much planned — just hoping to get a little work done outside if the rain stays away. If you’re looking for a place to worship this Sunday, we’d love to have you at Saint Matthew’s. We’re combining services in the sanctuary, and our District Superintendent Trey Harper will be preaching — it’s always good to have Trey with us.

Today we’re finishing up chapter 2 of First John, reading verses 18 through 28:

“Children, it is the last hour! As you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. From this we know that it is the last hour. They went out from us, but they did not belong to us; for if they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us. But by going out they made it plain that none of them belongs to us. But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and all of you have knowledge. I write to you, not because you do not know the truth, but because you know it, and you know that no lie comes from the truth. Who is the liar but the one who denies that Jesus is the Christ? This is the antichrist, the one who denies the Father and the Son. No one who denies the Son has the Father; everyone who confesses the Son has the Father also. Let what you heard from the beginning abide in you. If what you heard from the beginning abides in you, then you will abide in the Son and in the Father. And this is what he has promised us, eternal life. I write these things to you concerning those who would deceive you. As for you, the anointing that you received from him abides in you, and so you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things, and is true and is not a lie, and just as it has taught you, abide in him. And now, little children, abide in him, so that when he is revealed we may have confidence and not be put to shame before him at his coming.”

So — the Antichrist. I’m not going to go deep into Revelation today. Holly and I taught through Revelation for many, many months in our Sunday school class at Saint Matthew’s, and my standing summary is basically this: it’s going to be hard, people are going to be mean and ugly, and it’s not going to be a lot of fun — but we’re going to be okay. God sees the suffering of his people. God sees their persecution. He will not leave them nor forsake them, and to those who overcome goes the victory. That’s Revelation. You’re welcome.

But what I find really fascinating in today’s passage is what John actually does with the concept of the Antichrist. Because notice — he doesn’t say the Antichrist is here. He says many antichrists have come. Plural.

And I think that’s the more practical word for us today. I’m almost 50, so I remember Mikhail Gorbachev being identified as the Antichrist in the ‘80s — the birthmark on his forehead was supposed to be the mark of the beast. Some of you remember that. Then we had the whole Left Behind era in the ‘90s — book after book, movie after movie, and it was basically a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-Antichrist. And whoever you liked politically, they were not the Antichrist. Whoever you didn’t like? Definitely the Antichrist. That game hasn’t stopped. You can find someone calling just about anyone the Antichrist online today if you look hard enough.

But John redirects us. Don’t fixate on tracking down the one big bad Antichrist — God’s going to handle all of that. What John says to watch for is this: who is the liar but the one who denies that Jesus is the Christ? The antichrist — with a lowercase a, plural — is anyone who denies the Father and the Son. Anyone who denies the work of God, the work of the Spirit, the lordship of Jesus Christ.

And I think the more honest and practical question for us is: how do we deny Christ? Not necessarily in our stated beliefs, but in our actions. In how we speak. In how we treat people. In whether we’re actually being the hands and feet of Jesus in the world.

And then there’s this — who are the voices speaking into your life? This is a real test, friends. The people you follow on social media, the podcasts you listen to, the media you consume — when you finish watching or listening, what are you filled with? Are you filled with love, peace, patience, joy, kindness, gentleness, mercy, self-control? The fruit of the Spirit? Or are you filled with anger? Contempt? Rage?

Because there are voices on all sides — all sides — that are designed to inflame. That push us toward division and contempt for our neighbors, our fellow believers, our fellow citizens. And the question isn’t just whether those voices are politically agreeable to us. The question is: do they push you closer to Jesus? Do they increase your devotion to the gospel? Do they make you want to serve your neighbor, worship more deeply, read your Bible, pray, receive the sacraments, love God with everything you have and love your neighbor as yourself?

Or do they push you away from all of that?

Little children, abide in him, John says, so that when he is revealed we may have confidence and not be put to shame before him at his coming. That’s the word. Abide in him. Be careful what you let into your soul — what you watch, what you absorb, what you allow to shape you. If it’s not pushing you toward Jesus and loving like Jesus, it’s pulling you somewhere you don’t want to go.

Love God. Love neighbor. If we do that, everything else finds its place.

Have a great weekend, friends. We’ll pick back up Monday. See you then!

In this Thursday reflection on 1 John 2:7–17, John’s “old-but-new” commandment turns out to be exactly what we talked about yesterday: love. And love, John argues, is the most reliable marker of whether we’re actually walking in the light — because you can’t claim to be in the light while hating your brother or sister. Actions don’t save us, but they do reveal us, the way fruit reveals what kind of tree you’re dealing with. Drawing on Matthew 25, Tertullian, and the witness of the early church, the reflection makes the case that love for one another — across doctrinal lines, across differences, within the whole household of faith — is the thing that should make the watching world stop and take notice. Then John flips the contrast: don’t love the things of the world — wealth, status, the approval of others, the endless desire for more — because all of it is passing away. What’s eternal is love: love of Jesus, love of neighbor, love that is God’s own perfect love shed in our hearts. That’s the mark. That’s what lasts.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Thursday as we continue through First John. Today we’re reading chapter 2, verses 7 through 17:

“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you have had from the beginning; the old commandment is the word that you have heard. Yet I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining. Whoever says, ‘I am in the light,’ while hating a brother or sister, is still in the darkness. Whoever loves a brother or sister lives in the light, and in such a person there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates another believer is in the darkness, walks in the darkness, and does not know the way to go, because the darkness has brought on blindness.

I am writing to you, little children, because your sins are forgiven on account of his name. I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young people, because you have conquered the evil one. I write to you, children, because you know the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young people, because you are strong and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one.

Do not love the world or the things in the world. The love of the Father is not in those who love the world; for all that is in the world — the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, the pride in riches — comes not from the Father but from the world. And the world and its desire are passing away, but those who do the will of God live forever.”

So John opens with something a little paradoxical — I’m not writing you a new commandment, but I am writing you a new commandment. What does he mean? He’s reminding them of what they already know. The old commandment, the word they’ve had from the beginning — and then he says it’s also new, because it’s alive and active in the light that is already shining. He’s not introducing something foreign. He’s calling them back to the center.

And the center, as we talked about yesterday, is love. That’s the commandment. And here’s how John tests whether we’re actually living in it.

Remember the light-and-darkness language we’ve been tracking all through First John — and before that, all through the Gospel of John? John brings it forward again here: whoever says “I am in the light” while hating a brother or sister is still in the darkness. That’s a pretty direct diagnostic. And I think it’s one worth sitting with, because we all wonder sometimes — how do I know? How do I actually know that I’m in the light, that I’m really walking with the Lord?

Paul writes in Romans that the Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God. And I do believe that — the witness of the Holy Spirit is real, and when you’re in Scripture, when you’re in worship, when you’re genuinely seeking him, you know. But John gives us another marker here: look at how you love. We’re not saved by our actions — our actions don’t save us — but they do show us something. Fruit shows us what kind of tree we’re dealing with. An apple tree produces apples. A peach tree produces peaches. Children of God should be producing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness. That’s the fruit of the Spirit. And if we say we’re in the light but we hate our brothers and sisters — our fellow believers — John says plainly: we’re walking in the darkness.

Matthew 25 is a passage that never leaves me alone. The sheep and the goats. The goats say Lord, Lord, when did we see you? And Jesus makes it clear — not everyone who says Lord, Lord. How we treat people, especially the least, especially the vulnerable, shows something true about where we actually are.

Tertullian, that great early church father, wrote about how the watching world marveled at Christians: “See how they love one another.” That was the witness. That was what drew people in. Because people are longing to be loved. People are longing to know they have worth and value and that they matter. Everyone who sat with Jesus, everyone who encountered him, felt that. They felt his love. They felt like they mattered. We should make people feel that way — and especially, especially, within the household of faith.

Now, I’m a Methodist. I’m a Wesleyan. I’ve tested my doctrine, I believe it, I stand by it — when I was ordained they asked me if I had examined it and found it biblical, and I had and I do. But my Catholic friends, my Baptist friends, my Pentecostal and Presbyterian friends — we don’t agree on everything. We’re not going to. But we are on the same team. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. And I may not always agree with my brothers and sisters, but I am always going to love them. That’s not optional.

Then John pivots — from love of the brothers and sisters to the contrast: do not love the world or the things of the world.The desire of the flesh. The desire of the eyes. The pride of riches. Wealth. Status. Popularity. The approval of our peers. And I want to say something about that last one — peer pressure doesn’t stop when you turn 21. It really doesn’t. The need for approval, the pull of what others think of us, follows us all the way through life. We scroll for likes. We angle for status. We chase the next thing that we think will finally make us feel like enough.

And John says: all of it is passing away. Your possessions, your wealth, your status — it all fades. What remains? The love of Jesus. The love we have for each other. The love we have for our brothers and sisters, and yes, even for our enemies. That’s what lasts. That’s what’s eternal.

So there’s the word for today: love is the fruit, love is the mark, love is how we know. Let God’s love flow through you — toward your fellow believers, toward the world, toward everyone. And be careful with the desires of this world, because they will consume you if you let them. They fade. Jesus doesn’t.

Tomorrow we’ll finish up chapter 2. Have a great day!

In this Wednesday reflection on 1 John 2:1–6, the phrase “the love of God has reached perfection” becomes a springboard for a pastoral tour through one of Methodism’s most distinctive — and most misunderstood — doctrines: Christian perfection. The passage holds the same honest tension as the previous chapter: we are going to sin, Christ has atoned for it, and we have an advocate. But the deeper question is what perfection actually means. The reflection pushes back against the common assumption that holiness is a legalistic checklist of moral performance — don’t play cards, don’t see movies, don’t listen to secular music — and argues instead that Christian perfection, in the Wesleyan sense, is never about perfect action but about God’s perfect love being restored in us through sanctifying grace. The goal of salvation, as Wesley understood it, is the recovery of the image of God — which enables us to keep the greatest commandment: love God fully and love your neighbor as yourself. That’s what holiness looks like. And it’s why the means of grace — Scripture, prayer, communion, fasting, community — matter so much: they are the channels through which that love grows and changes us.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Wednesday as we continue through First John together. I’m really enjoying this letter — it’s short, but there is just so much good stuff packed into it. And honestly, the few letters we’re going to walk through together after this are the same way.

Today we’re in First John chapter 2, verses 1 through 6:

“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. Now by this we may be sure that we know him, if we obey his commandments. Whoever says, ‘I have come to know him,’ but does not obey his commandments, is a liar, and in such a person the truth does not exist; but whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. By this we may be sure that we are in him: whoever says, ‘I abide in him,’ ought to walk just as he walked.”

Tomorrow we’re going to talk about the new commandment — the one John says those who love Jesus keep — so we’ll unpack what that commandment actually is then. Spoiler alert: it’s love. But today’s passage sets us up beautifully for that conversation, and it also gives us a chance to dig into something I find really fascinating — so consider this Methodist Seminary Day.

First, notice the tension John keeps holding together. He says, I’m writing this so that you may not sin — but then immediately: if anyone does sin, we have an advocate. And remember, just last chapter he said if we say we have no sin, we make him a liar. So there’s this constant, honest motion throughout First John: you’re going to sin, and when you do, Christ has atoned for it, so confess it and receive forgiveness. John doesn’t pretend sin isn’t real, and he doesn’t use grace as an excuse to be casual about it either. Both things are true at once.

But then he says this — and this is the line I want to sit with today: whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection.

That word perfection is a big deal in the Wesleyan tradition. When I was ordained — and I just realized this annual conference will mark twenty years since I was ordained on June 13th, 2006, so that’s something — one of the questions asked of every candidate is: do you believe in Christian perfection, and do you expect to be made perfect in this life? That is a defining doctrine of the Wesleyan movement, tied closely to sanctification and Christian growth.

And I think a lot of people — myself included, when I was younger — misunderstand what that actually means. I grew up somewhere along the way internalizing that holiness was basically a legalistic checklist. Don’t play cards because cards are for gambling. Don’t go to the movies. Don’t listen to secular music. To be holy, in that framework, meant performing a kind of moral perfection — getting it all right, checking all the right boxes, avoiding all the wrong things. Maybe you grew up with some version of that too.

But that is not what Scripture is teaching here. And it’s not what Wesley meant either.

Look at the verse again: truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. Christian perfection — holiness, sanctification — is never about my perfect action. It’s not about me performing flawlessly or never getting it wrong. That’s not the goal. The goal is God’s perfect love being shed into my heart, and then that love within me allowing me to love God and love others fully. That’s what perfection looks like in our theology.

My seminary professor Dr. Bryan used to put it this way: the salvific goal — the very purpose of our salvation — is the recovery of the image of God. When God’s image is being restored in us through sanctifying grace, it enables us to keep the greatest commandment: love God with everything you are, and love your neighbor as yourself. That is the point. That is what we’re being saved for. Not moral perfection. Perfect love.

There’s a great song by Matt Maher — the chorus goes: holiness is Christ in me. That’s it. That’s exactly it. Holiness isn’t me getting everything right. It’s Christ in me, God’s love growing and changing me from the inside, pushing me toward love of God and love of neighbor.

And that’s why the means of grace matter so much in the Wesleyan tradition — Scripture, prayer, communion, fasting, worship, Christian community. We need these things because they are the channels through which grace flows and does its work in us. As we read God’s word, grace is given. As we pray, as we fast, as we gather — we are being changed. We are being made more perfect, not through our effort, but through grace.

Wesley talked about social holiness — and this is what he meant. We can’t become holy in isolation. You help make me holy, and I help make you holy. We need each other. Love God, love neighbor — you can’t do that alone.

So if you want Methodist doctrine in a nutshell, there it is: holiness is God’s love shed abroad in our hearts, pushing us not toward perfect behavior but toward perfect love. And when we love perfectly — love God fully, love neighbor fully — we are living right at the center of who God made us to be.

Tomorrow we’ll pick up with the rest of chapter 2. Have a great day!

In this Tuesday reflection on 1 John 1:5–10, the light-and-darkness imagery that runs through John’s Gospel flows directly into the letter — God is light, and walking in fellowship with him means being called continually out of the dark. The key distinction John makes is not between sinning and not sinning — we all sin, and to claim otherwise is to make God a liar — but between remaining in darkness and walking in the light, where the blood of Jesus keeps cleansing us as we go. The pastoral heart of the reflection centers on verse 9: if we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Crucially, confession doesn’t trigger God’s forgiveness — God’s forgiveness isn’t transactional or conditional on our performance. Rather, confession is the moment we speak our failure aloud and hear back the words our souls most need: you are still beloved, you are forgiven. There is no greater gift.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Tuesday as we continue through First John together. This first chapter is only ten verses, so today we’re finishing it out — verses 5 through 10. And I’ll just say upfront: this passage contains one of my favorite verses in all of Scripture, and honestly one of the more important ones to know. Let’s read it:

“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.”

Yesterday I mentioned the similarities between First John and the Gospel of John — and right here is a perfect example. One of the most beautiful things about John’s Gospel is the constant imagery of light and darkness. Throughout it, light and darkness aren’t just poetic — they’re theological. Darkness is synonymous with being lost, with sin, with not yet knowing who Jesus is.

Two of my favorite examples: Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night in John 3. For John, that detail isn’t just about the time of day — it’s saying something about where Nicodemus is spiritually. He’s still in the dark; he doesn’t fully understand who Jesus is yet. But then, at the end of the Gospel, we meet Nicodemus again — this time coming to help bury Jesus. And John notes that he is the one who formerly came to Jesus at night. He’s not coming at night anymore. That’s the growth of Nicodemus, told entirely through the imagery of light and dark. You also see it at the tomb — while it was still dark, they came. Light and darkness run all the way through John’s Gospel, and that same current runs right into this letter.

So: God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we’re still walking in darkness, we’re lying. But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin.

Now here’s where it gets interesting — because then John says: if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves. So which is it? Can we walk with Jesus and still sin? And the answer is yes — because that’s not actually the tension John is setting up. The distinction he’s making is between walking in darkness and remaining in darkness. We’re going to sin. If we say we haven’t, we’re lying, and we’re making God out to be a liar too. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God — that’s just the human condition. We are imperfect creatures. We mess up. We fall.

The question for John isn’t whether we’re going to sin. The question is: is it a struggle? Because if we’re genuinely walking with Jesus, his light is going to keep calling us out of the dark. We won’t be content to just stay there. And that’s actually a good diagnostic for our spiritual lives — we should never be comfortable with our sin. When our sin stops bothering us, when we stop feeling the pull toward confession and repentance, something’s off. As long as we’re bothered by it, as long as we’re still wrestling with it, that’s a sign the Spirit is alive and working in us.

And here’s the good news — verse 9, my favorite: if we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

That’s why I love the communion liturgy of the United Methodist Church so much. We open with confession — together, out loud, as a community. We have not loved you with our whole heart. We have not heard the cry of the needy. Forgive us, we pray. Free us for joyful obedience. And then I pronounce to the congregation: in the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven. And they pronounce it back to me: in the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven. I’m not forgiving them and they’re not forgiving me — we’re both just announcing to each other what is already true.

Now here’s something I really want you to hear: confession doesn’t trigger God’s forgiveness. God is not sitting in heaven saying, I’ll forgive them, but they have to ask first — and if they don’t ask, I’m just going to dangle it out there. No. That’s not how it works. If we have to do something to make God forgive us, then it’s our actions causing the forgiveness — and that’s not grace anymore. Our walk with God is not transactional. We don’t bargain with him. We don’t say “if I do A, you’ll do B.” He’s God. There’s no leverage there.

We confess our sins not to make God forgive us — but because when we say it out loud, when we come before him and say, God, I have failed you, I have not done as I should, I have fallen short — and then we hear back, you are still my beloved, you are forgiven — there is nothing more beautiful than that. There is nothing the soul needs more than to hear those words when we know we’ve fallen short.

There’s a line from Doctor Who that’s always stuck with me. The Doctor is running off to do something reckless and his companion says, “You just want to be forgiven.” And he turns and says, “Don’t we all?” Yes. That’s exactly right. Don’t we all.

If we say we have no sin, we’re deceiving ourselves. But if we confess — he who is faithful and just will cleanse us from all unrighteousness. You can be forgiven, friends. There is no greater gift than that.

So today, know this: if we confess, he forgives. And when we confess, we get to hear the words our souls most need to hear. You are loved. You are forgiven. Have a great day!

In this Monday reflection opening a new series through First John, the focus falls on the letter’s opening declaration: we tell you what we have seen, heard, and touched — which John frames as the foundation of Christian fellowship and the source of complete joy. Drawing on the Southern tradition of testimony and Revelation 12:11, the reflection makes the case that our testimony is one of the most powerful tools we have — and that testimony isn’t just the story of our conversion, but the ongoing story of what Jesus is doing in our lives right now. The heart of the passage, and of the message, is this: experiencing Jesus is never meant to stop with us. John wrote so that others could join the fellowship, and our joy becomes complete when the people we love come to know Jesus too. The practical challenge is simple — tell your story this week, to your family, your friends, and when you’re feeling brave, to someone who doesn’t know Jesus yet.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Monday as we start a new week together. Last week we looked at different post-Easter accounts — the encounters the apostles and others had with the risen Jesus. This week we’re shifting gears. My pattern has usually been Old Testament, New Testament, Old Testament, New Testament, but honestly nothing from the Old Testament was really jumping off the page for me. I thought about the Psalms — I love the Psalms — but then I just asked myself what I actually wanted to read. And the answer was First John. So that’s what we’re going to do.

We’ll walk through First John together, and after that we’ll probably move into Second and Third John — they’re so short it would almost feel wrong not to. We may even do Jude for the same reason. Then probably First and Second Peter, and then we’ll head back to the Old Testament. That’s the loose plan. For now, though — First John.

Today we’re reading chapter 1, verses 1 through 4:

“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our own eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our own hands, concerning the word of life — this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us — we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.”

A little context first. First John is generally believed to have been written by John the Apostle — the same John who wrote the Gospel of John. You can feel it immediately; the language, the themes, the light-and-darkness imagery are all very familiar. This is also what’s called a Catholic letter — and Catholic here means universal, not denominational. Paul’s letters were always written to a specific person or place: to the church in Rome, to Timothy, to the church in Corinth. Very personal, very particular. The letters that come after Paul — Hebrews, James, First John and the others — are more universal in scope, not necessarily tied to one specific community. They’re written more broadly to the church at large.

So John opens by saying: we are declaring to you what we have seen, what we have heard, what we have known, what we have touched. In the South we’d call that giving your testimony. And one of my preachers growing up used to always say: you can’t give witness to what you don’t know.

One of my favorite verses — and you’ve heard me say this before — is Revelation 12:11: the enemy is defeated by the blood of the Lamb and the power of their testimony. Our testimony might be the most powerful thing we have. Because you can debate a lot of things, but you can’t really argue with Jesus changed my life. I am a different person post-Jesus than I was pre-Jesus. And not just at conversion — daily. Daily I experience him through Scripture, through prayer, through service, through the church. Daily he is making me better.

And I think that’s an important thing to understand about testimony. Our testimony isn’t only the story of our conversion — as important as that is. Our testimony is also what Jesus is doing in our lives right now. How are we experiencing his power today? How are we different this week because of what he’s doing? That ongoing testimony matters just as much as the conversion story.

John is saying: we’ve seen this, we’ve experienced it, we’ve touched the resurrected Christ with our own hands — and we’re telling you because we want you to join us. We want you to experience this too. That’s the heart of it, isn’t it? It’s not enough to experience Jesus and keep it to yourself. I want you to know him. I want you to experience the goodness, the mercy, the grace of God. I want your life changed by Jesus the way mine has been. And John says: when you join that fellowship, when you come to know Jesus — that is what makes our joy complete.

There’s nothing quite like watching somebody experience Jesus for the first time — or watching someone who’s known him for years fall deeper in love. That’s why I love Communion so much. Every time we gather at the table, we get to experience his love again. Every time we tell the story, we proclaim his death and resurrection until he comes again. What a joy that is.

So here’s the question for today: when’s the last time you told your story? When did you last tell your children — or your grandchildren — about when you met Jesus? When did you last tell your spouse what Jesus is doing in your life right now? One of the things I always encourage people to do in revivals is to take the time to actually tell those stories. And when you’re feeling really brave — tell somebody who doesn’t know Jesus yet. A coworker, a friend, a colleague. Not in a pushy or judgmental way. Just the same way you’d tell them about a great meal you had or a deal you found. Just tell them what Jesus has done for you.

I love to tell the story, for those who know it best seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest. Tell your story, friends. See what it does.

Tomorrow we’ll pick up with verse 5. Have a great day!

In this Friday reflection on Luke 24:1–12, three threads from the resurrection account are woven together into a single pastoral encouragement. The angel’s question — “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” — becomes a call to move beyond a faith that is merely routine or historical and into one that is truly alive and built around Jesus. The moment when the women “remembered his words” becomes a word of grace for anyone who feels behind in their faith journey: growth takes time, the Spirit moves at its own pace, and not understanding something the first time isn’t failure — it’s the normal shape of discipleship. And finally, the fact that it was the women, not the apostles, who first believed and testified is a reminder to stop looking only to those up front and start paying attention to the whole body of Christ — because God has a way of speaking most clearly through the people we least expect.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! Great to be with you on this Friday. If you’re watching on YouTube or following along on the video Substack, you’ll notice a slightly different background and a different “uniform” today — I’m recording from the house. I intended to get this done earlier this morning, but the day got away from me. You may also hear Rocket, our dog, making a cameo. Just part of the Friday experience.

Today we’re continuing our look at the post-resurrection accounts across the Gospels, and today we’re in Luke 24, verses 1 through 12:

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’ Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.”

There’s a lot happening in this passage. But let’s start with the line that always stops me — verse 5: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

That’s always a good word. I’ve heard revival sermons built around that question, and honestly, it deserves them. So often we can look alive and yet be dead on the inside. So often our faith can become something of rote history or empty routine rather than something deeply alive and active. We talked yesterday about what it means to be a disciple — that being a disciple isn’t just carrying knowledge about Jesus, but building your life around him. His life, his teachings, his way of being in the world — that forms the very foundation. So today the angel asks the question and, in a way, asks it of us too: why are you looking for the living among the dead? May we have a faith that is truly, fully alive.

Then verse 8: they remembered his words.

Here’s something worth sitting with. The first time we hear something, we may not get it. We may not understand it. And that’s okay. Go back and read through the Gospels — look at how many times Jesus pointed to his own death and the disciples just didn’t understand it. It didn’t click. That’s not a failure on their part; that’s the nature of growth.

I think a lot of us are tempted to feel inadequate in our faith. We look at others — their service, their commitment, their apparent depth — and we feel like we’re behind, like we’re never going to get it right. We beat ourselves up for not being the fully formed disciples we think we should be. But verse 8 is a word of grace: then they remembered. They’d heard it before. It just hadn’t clicked yet. And when the time was right, it did.

We all grow at our own pace. We all grow as the Spirit leads. Just because you haven’t figured it all out yet — and none of us have, mine included — doesn’t mean he’s not working on you. Pay attention to what he’s doing in your life. Pay attention to what Scripture is speaking to you. Pay attention to where you feel the pull of the Spirit. Your faith is still growing, and that’s exactly where it’s supposed to be. Don’t give up on yourself, because he has not given up on you. He believes in who you are and who you’re becoming. So believe in that too.

Now, there’s one more thing in this passage I don’t want to glide past. It was the women — Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others — who went and told the apostles what they had witnessed. And the apostles? They thought it sounded like an idle tale. They didn’t believe them. Peter ran to the tomb and came home amazed, but still — the ones we think of as the leaders, the ones who would soon be standing up in Acts and leading the early church, they didn’t get it first. The women did.

I say this as a preacher: it’s so easy for us to always turn our eyes to whoever is up front, to assume that’s where the real action is, where the real faith is. But we miss so much when we do that. Sometimes the most powerful witness in the room — the most vivid expression of grace, the clearest picture of the gospel — is coming from the people we least expected. So look around. Don’t just look up front. Look at the whole body of Christ. Look especially at the people you might be tempted to overlook. I guarantee you’ll see God moving there.

So here’s what Luke’s account leaves us with this Friday: don’t look for the living among the dead. Don’t give up on your faith just because you haven’t figured it all out yet. And keep your eyes moving — because God has a habit of speaking through the people and places we least expect.

If you’re in the area, we’d love to have you at Saint Matthew’s on Sunday — it’s going to be a great day. Have a wonderful weekend, and I’ll see you back here Monday!

In this Thursday reflection on Matthew 28:16–20, the Great Commission is unpacked through one central question: what does it actually mean to make disciples? Drawing on Matthew’s deeply Jewish framing — including the parallel between the disciples going to “the mountain Jesus directed them to” and the Old Testament pattern of God calling his people to mountains he would show them — the reflection highlights that even face-to-face with the risen Jesus, some still doubted, reminding us that faith is always a challenge. The heart of the message is the distinction between making fans of Jesus and making disciples — people who don’t just know who Jesus is, but who build their entire lives around his teachings, for whom the Beatitudes, enemy-love, forgiveness, and peacemaking are non-negotiable. Before the church can make disciples, each of us must ask whether we are one ourselves. And we pursue this mission not in our own strength, but anchored in Jesus’s closing promise: I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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Good morning! It’s great to be with you on this Thursday — whether you’re just getting your week started or already seeing the end of it, I’m glad you’re here. Today we’re continuing our post-resurrection reflections from Matthew’s Gospel. Yesterday we read the first half of Matthew 28; today we’re finishing it with one of the most well-known passages in all of Scripture — the Great Commission. But even in a familiar passage, there’s a lot worth slowing down for. Let’s read Matthew 28:16–20:

“Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’”

A few things worth noticing here.

First, the eleven. Judas hadn’t been replaced yet, so it’s just the eleven. And since Matthew is the most Jewish of all the Gospels — Matthew being a Jewish tax collector, with the Old Testament and the old covenant carrying enormous weight throughout — that detail about the mountain to which Jesus directed them is worth pausing on. Think about it: Abraham was called to the land God would show him. Isaac was to be sacrificed on a mountain God would show. And now the disciples are going to the mountain that Jesus directed them to. All throughout Matthew’s Gospel you see these parallels — Israel called out of Egypt, Jesus called out of Egypt; Israel wandering in the desert, Jesus tested in the desert. In the same way, these disciples follow to the mountain I will show you. Matthew is constantly presenting Jesus as the fulfillment and retelling of the Hebrew narrative.

Second, verse 17: they worshipped him, but some doubted. We read the Gospels with the full knowledge of what happened — resurrection, ascension, Pentecost, the whole story. But these disciples were living it in real time. They were still wrapping their minds around what it meant that Jesus had been raised from the dead. And even here, face to face with the risen Jesus, some doubted. Which tells us something important: faith is a challenge sometimes. Lord, I believe — help my unbelief. They worshipped and doubted in the same moment. That’s a very human thing, and it’s worth sitting with.

And then Jesus speaks: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples.”

That word — disciples — is the key word. Jesus doesn’t ask us to make fans. He doesn’t ask us to make supporters, or even worshippers. He commands us to make disciples. And there’s a real difference.

A disciple builds their life around the teachings of the master. A disciple patterns their life around the life of the master. A disciple seeks to walk in the steps of the master. So if we’re going to follow in the steps of Jesus, we have to study his life. If we’re going to follow his teachings, we have to actually know his teachings. And here’s the thing — the Beatitudes are not optional for disciples. Loving your enemies is not optional. Turning the other cheek is not optional. Forgiving is not optional. These are the teachings of Jesus that we must build our lives around.

I think one of the places the church gets into trouble is spending more time making fans of Jesus — people who know who Jesus is, who admire him from a distance — and not enough time making actual followers. People who lay down their lives for the sake of Jesus. Because the way we change the world is through making disciples.

But before we can make disciples, we have to ask ourselves: am I a disciple? You can’t make something you’re not. So the first question is whether we are building our own lives around the teachings of Jesus. Is he truly our Master and our Lord? Because if he is, then we take the teachings we’ve been given, build our lives around them, and then teach others to do the same.

And we do this because we believe, as Peter said when everyone else was walking away, “Where else would we go? You have the words of life.” There’s nowhere else to find life itself. And when we build our lives around Jesus, we find that life — and then we want to pass it on.

Making disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything Jesus commanded. And then that great word of encouragement at the end: “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”Always. He will never leave nor forsake us. Even the Psalmist knew it — “If I make my bed in Sheol, still there you are.”We have a mission in front of us, but we have hope in that mission, because he is always with us.

So today the question is simple: are we disciples? Are we building our lives around the teachings of Jesus Christ? And if we are — are we making other disciples? That’s the mission of the United Methodist Church: to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. Not fans. Not acquaintances. Disciples.

Thanks for being with me today. Tomorrow we’ll wrap up the week with one final post-resurrection encounter. Have a great day!

In this Wednesday morning reflection on Matthew 28:11–15, the focus turns to the guards who witnessed the resurrection firsthand and then accepted a bribe from the chief priests to spread a cover story — that the disciples had stolen Jesus’s body. Using this often-overlooked post-Easter passage as a jumping-off point, the reflection asks a pointed question: what is your integrity worth? While the guards sold theirs for money, the greater temptation for most of us isn’t financial — it’s the approval of others, the comfort of going along with the crowd, the pull of cultural Christianity that lets us mouth the words of faith without truly living them. Drawing on Kierkegaard’s insight that “the hardest thing is to be a Christian in Christendom,” the reflection closes with a simple but weighty call: the Gospel isn’t complicated — it’s just hard. So follow Jesus today, even when it costs you something.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

You can read today’s passage here.

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A Better Way

We all know there's got to be a better way. Let's find it together.

By Andy Stoddard

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Good morning! It’s good to be with you this Wednesday as we continue our daily reflections. This week we’re looking at different things the Gospels tell us happened after Easter Sunday. Since I preached from Matthew 28 on Sunday, let’s return there today — specifically verses 11 through 15, right on the heels of the Easter story.

Here’s what it says:

“While they were going, some of the guard went into the city and told the chief priests everything that had happened. After the priest had assembled with the elders, they devised a plan to give a large sum of money to the soldiers, telling them, ‘You must say his disciples came by night and stole him away while we were sleeping. If this comes to the governor’s ears, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble.’ They took the money and did as they were directed. And this story is still told among the Jews to this day.”

Verses 1 through 10 tell the resurrection story — Jesus is raised, he tells the women to go preach to the apostles, “do not be afraid,” “go to my brothers,” and so forth. And as the women were leaving to carry that message, verse 4 reminds us that the guards — who earlier had shaken and “became like dead men” at the sight of the angel — are now back at it. So as the women were leaving, the guards went into the city and told the chief priests everything that had happened. And the chief priests’ response? Essentially: here’s some money, just tell people the disciples came and took the body.

There are so many fascinating little post-Easter stories we don’t talk about enough. The two that get the most attention are probably Doubting Thomas — which I’ll be preaching on this coming Sunday at Saint Matthew’s, one of my favorite stories in all of Scripture; I think Thomas gets a real bum rap — and then the encounter on the road to Emmaus, where Jesus appears to the disciples as they’re walking. Those two tend to dominate the post-Easter conversation. Yesterday we talked about Mark’s longer ending. But this story in Matthew is something else entirely.

What strikes me here isn’t just the resurrection angle. Yes, it’s part of the Easter story. But this passage raises some deeper questions about integrity. What is your integrity worth? What is the value of your word? What is the value of your soul? Jesus himself asked it: “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world but lose his soul?”

These guards were front-row spectators to the resurrection. They saw the angel. They lived through it. They witnessed all of it. And then the religious leaders came along and said, essentially, “How about for a little money, we all pretend that didn’t happen?” And the guards went along with it. They got protection from Rome, a nice payday, and a way to stay out of trouble.

But that kind of peace — a peace built on a lie — isn’t peace at all.

These soldiers thought they were avoiding trouble, staying out of the governor’s crosshairs, keeping themselves safe. But in the end, they sold their integrity. And there’s a lot of integrity being sold in this part of the story, isn’t there? Judas went for thirty pieces of silver. These soldiers, we don’t know the amount, but it was “a large sum.” They exchanged truth for a profit. And that’s worth sitting with — because what will we exchange our integrity for? What will we be willing to compromise on what we know to be true?

Honestly, it’s rarely money. I’d say money is actually one of the less common temptations when it comes to compromising our integrity. Because all of life, in some ways, is still the middle school cafeteria. Our great temptation is often peer pressure — What will others think of me? Will I be approved of? Will I be liked? Popularity isn’t just a teenage struggle. We all want to be thought well of. That’s human nature.

It makes me think of something Søren Kierkegaard said. If you don’t know Kierkegaard, he was an 18th-century Danish philosopher — one of the founding existentialists — who pushed back hard against the cultural Christianity of his day. And I think our cultural context always matters. Here in the Deep South, even though things have changed, Christianity is still kind of the norm. And that makes it very easy to mouth the words of Christ without actually living them. It’s very easy to be culturally Christian — showing up on Easter Sunday, going through the motions, going along with what everyone says our faith is — without ever digging deep into Scripture, without actually wrestling with what it means to follow Jesus.

Kierkegaard said it brilliantly: “The hardest thing is to be a Christian in Christendom.” I’ve always summarized it this way — when everybody’s a Christian, nobody has to act like one.

Rich Mullins captured it too: It’s hard to turn the other cheek. It’s hard to be a man of peace. It’s hard to be like Jesus.Being a peacemaker is hard. Hungering and thirsting for righteousness is hard. The Gospel isn’t complicated — it’s just hard.

These guards exchanged their integrity for a vast sum of money. What will we be tempted to exchange ours for? It probably won’t be money. It might be the applause of others, the approval of the crowd, the comfort of just going along. All of life remains the middle school cafeteria, friends. And following the Gospel is always hard — no matter the age, no matter the place.

So let’s follow Jesus today — even if it calls us to a hard place.

Thank you for being with me. Tomorrow we’ll look at another post-resurrection account. Have a great day!

In the Gospel of Mark 16:9–20, even with its textual complexity, we see a clear message: Jesus Christ is risen, He appears to His followers, and He sends them out with both a mission and His power. While the passage includes signs that may feel unusual, the heart of it is that there is authority in Jesus’ name over fear, evil, and anything that tries to hold us captive. Because of the resurrection, we don’t have to live bound by fear, guilt, or uncertainty—we are free to live with hope, courage, and joy, trusting that if even death could not defeat Christ, then nothing we face has the final word.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

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A Better Way

We all know there's got to be a better way. Let's find it together.

By Andy Stoddard

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ell, good morning. It’s good to be with you on this Tuesday morning as we continue walking together through this week after Easter—just spending a little time each day in these post-resurrection passages and asking what they mean for us as people who now live on this side of the empty tomb.

Today we’re in Gospel of Mark 16:9–20, what’s often called the “longer ending” of Mark. And if you’ve got a more modern translation—NRSV, NIV, ESV, something like that—you probably noticed there’s a note there. It may say something like, “Some of the earliest manuscripts do not include these verses,” or it might bracket the section off a little bit. And that can feel confusing at first, but really, what it is is the translators showing their work. We don’t have the original copy of Mark’s Gospel—we have thousands of manuscripts, copies of copies—and when scholars compare those, they sometimes find differences. So they include notes like this to be transparent, to help us understand what’s going on.

And I actually think that’s a good thing. It shows us that Scripture has been carefully preserved and thoughtfully studied. It invites us not just to read, but to think. And at the end of the day, like one of my professors used to say, the question we always come back to is: is it true, and what does it mean for me?

So when we look at this passage, regardless of how or when it was included, the message is consistent with everything we’ve seen after the resurrection. Jesus Christ appears to His followers. At first, they don’t believe—it takes them a minute to catch up, just like it did with the women at the tomb. But then He commissions them: “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news.”

And then we get this language about signs—casting out demons, speaking in new tongues, handling snakes, overcoming deadly things, healing the sick. And I know, if we’re honest, that can feel a little strange. It can raise questions. But if you step back and look at the heart of it, what’s being said is this: there is power in the name of Jesus.

Power over evil. Power over fear. Power over the things that threaten to undo us.

And here’s where I think this connects to our lives. Because we may not be out there handling snakes—and I’m okay with that—but we do face things that feel just as dangerous. Fear. Anxiety. Guilt. Shame. The weight of our past. The uncertainty of our future. Those things can feel like they have a grip on us.

But the resurrection says otherwise.

It says those things don’t get the final word.

If sin couldn’t hold Him, if death couldn’t hold Him, if the grave couldn’t hold Him—then what do we really have to be afraid of?

That doesn’t mean life isn’t hard. It doesn’t mean we won’t feel fear. But it does mean we don’t have to live in it. We don’t have to be defined by it. We don’t have to be trapped by it.

Because we are people of the resurrection now.

There is power in the name of Jesus—not just to save us one day, but to transform how we live today. To free us. To give us courage. To remind us that we are not alone.

So maybe that’s the word for today: don’t be afraid.

Not because everything is easy, but because He is with you. Because His power is real. Because His victory is already won.

So go live in that. Live with hope. Live with joy. Live with confidence—not in yourself, but in Him.

Thanks for being with me today. We’ll pick up again tomorrow as we continue walking through these post-resurrection moments together.

On this Monday after Easter, we begin living in the reality of the resurrection by reflecting on the Gospel of Mark 16:1–8, where the women are the first to discover the empty tomb and carry the good news of Jesus Christ’s resurrection—reminding us that God often uses unexpected people who are simply willing. Like them, we live in a world of both “terror and amazement,” where life can feel overwhelming and beautiful at the same time, and we may sometimes feel inadequate or tempted to write others off. But Easter teaches us not to do either, because the story isn’t over—life, not death, has the final word. Our calling is simple: be faithful and tell the story of what Jesus has done, trusting that God will use it in ways we may not even see.

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Well, good morning, and welcome to Rooted in Christ on this Monday after Easter. I really do hope you had a wonderful Easter—that it was life-giving for you, whether that was through worship, time with family, or just a moment to sit and reflect on the goodness and love of our Savior in this resurrection season. There’s just something special about Easter, and now we step into what it means to live on the other side of it—to live in a post-Easter world.

This week, we’re going to spend a little time each day looking at the daily readings from the Book of Common Prayer, just taking them as they come and offering a brief reflection. Today, we’re in Gospel of Mark 16:1–8, where the women come to the tomb and discover that it’s empty. And it’s always struck me—of all the people who followed Jesus Christ, it’s the women who were there at the cross, the women who came to the tomb, and the women who were the first to hear and carry the news of the resurrection. I’ve heard it said before that they were the “apostles to the apostles,” and there’s something really powerful about that. Jesus doesn’t choose the obvious people. He doesn’t go looking for the ones the world would expect. He chooses those who are willing.

And I think that matters for us, because if we’re honest, we don’t always feel like the ones who should be chosen. We don’t always feel equipped or worthy or ready. And yet, here we are—living in a post-Easter world, called to carry the same message they carried.

What’s interesting is how Gospel of Mark describes their response: “terror and amazement had seized them.” And that’s such an honest description of life, isn’t it? There are moments that feel overwhelming, even frightening—times when we look around and wonder, “What am I going to do?” And then there are moments of deep beauty and wonder—when we see something that just stops us in our tracks. A sunset, a conversation, a reminder that we are loved. Life is often both at the same time—terror and amazement, all wrapped together.

And in the middle of that, we’re called to be witnesses.

Sometimes we hesitate because we feel inadequate—like we don’t have much to offer. But the women didn’t have all the answers. They didn’t have a full theology worked out. They just had a story. They had experienced something, and they were called to share it.

And maybe that’s our calling too. Not to have it all figured out. Not to have all the right words. But simply to tell the story—what God has done, what God is doing, how Jesus has met us, changed us, carried us. That’s enough.

But there’s another side to this as well. Sometimes it’s not that we doubt ourselves—it’s that we doubt others. We’re quick to write people off. We think, “What do they have to teach me?” or “What could they possibly contribute?” And Easter pushes back on that. Because if God can use them—if God chose them—then maybe we need to pay attention.

Easter reminds us not to write anyone off. Not ourselves, and not others.

Because here’s the truth: it’s not over. Whatever feels final right now—it’s not final. Death doesn’t get the last word. Fear doesn’t get the last word. Life does.

So today, as you go about your day, maybe just sit with those two words—terror and amazement. Where do you feel overwhelmed? Where do you feel wonder? And right there in the middle of it, be faithful. Tell the story. Share the hope.

Because we are resurrection people now.

So go live with joy. Live with purpose. Live with grace and mercy. And just see what Jesus does with your story.

Thanks for being with me today. We’ll pick up again tomorrow.

I especially love the second verse, one that doesn’t always sit well with some:

In Christ alone who took on flesh;
fullness of God in helpless babe.
This gift of love and righteousness
scorned by the ones He came to save;
'til on that cross as Jesus died
the wrath of God was satisfied;
for ev'ry sin on Him was laid;
here in the death of Christ I live.

There has always been a lot of debate in the church about what exactly happened on the cross. What is the atonement about? (I always liked the way a friend talked about the atonement: it is the at-one-ment.) We are made one with God through the cross.

But what happened? We often want to know, and some Christians have very strong beliefs about what specifically happened, and their belief is the only acceptable one. That, however, has never been the universal understanding of the church. There are seven “theories” of the atonement. Here is a great overview of each, and I encourage you to take a few minutes to read through them. I have always been partial to the Christus Victor theory, where, through the cross, Jesus is victorious over the devil, sin, and the forces of evil. The cross isn’t just about me and you being forgiven; on the cross, Jesus defeats the power of evil in creation.

The cross and the empty grave must go together. On the cross, Jesus purchased our forgiveness and atoned for us. No matter what theory of the atonement you subscribe to, on the cross, sin was defeated. We are made right with the Father. No matter what you specifically believe happened there, that is what happened in the big picture. Jesus makes us right with the Father. Sin is defeat. That is the cross.

In the empty grave, death is defeated. No more does death hold sway. Think through Genesis 3, when sin entered into the world. What is the ultimate consequence of sin? Death. Because of sin, death enters into the world. The cross defeats sin, the empty grave destroys death.

This is also why I really like the Christus Victor theory; Christ is victorious over all.

I’ve shared a lot of theology and theory with you today, on this Good Friday. But want to circle back to that verse of that hymn. I love what it says, even if I don’t always emphasize it - the wrath of God was satisfied. No matter where you fall on what happened on the cross, we are atoned for, we are forgiven. Through the work of the cross, you are forgiven. You are made right. God’s justice, God’s wrath, the effect of sin, everything, it is done away with. It is no more. It is gone. As the prophet Isaiah says:

⁵ But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have all turned to our own way,
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

The Lord laid upon Him all our sin, all our brokenness. All our mistakes. Everything. It’s all on Jesus. You are forgiven. You are forgiven. You are forgiven.

Through the work of Jesus, you are forgiven. He’s not mad at you. Jesus has done the work. There is nothing more you have to do. Nothing. You don’t have to do anything to earn it. It was done for you. You just have to understand that and receive it.

If there is anything you have to do to make God forgive you, then you’re saying that Jesus didn’t do enough. It’s not my perfect action + Jesus = forgiveness. It’s Jesus = forgiveness.

It’s not my perfect doctrine + Jesus = forgiveness. It’s Jesus = forgiveness.

It’s not my perfect church + Jesus = forgiveness. It’s Jesus = forgiveness.

It’s not anything I do + Jesus = forgiveness. It’s Jesus = forgiveness.

If there is something I have to “do”, then Jesus didn’t do enough. Then the cross wasn’t enough. Then the atonement wasn’t enough. But that is not right. Jesus did enough. He paid it all. He did it all.

But we struggled with that. We have internalized our unworth. Our fialiues. Our sins, everything. We have interpreted that God is mad at us, against us, and that we have to do anything in our power ot make God love us. If we do more, believe right, give enough, serve enough, then we can make God love us.

Friends, you cannot make God love you. If you try to make God love you, you will fail. You can’t make God love you. You don’t have to. He already does. He loves you.

God is not after you. He is not against you. He is not seeking to “get you.” No matter what you’ve heard, been told, had preached at, or read, He’s not mad at you. On the cross, our sins are forgiven. In the empty tomb, death is defeated. Through it all, we are loved.

Today, know how much God loves you. No matter what. He’s not mad at you. He loves you.

On Good Friday, we remember that while the day was not “good” for Jesus Christ, it is good for us because of what was accomplished on the cross. This is where Jesus atoned for our sin—taking on all the brokenness of humanity and making us right with God—while the resurrection to come will defeat the consequence of that sin, which is death. As described in Book of Isaiah 53, He was “pierced for our transgressions” and bore the iniquity of us all, meaning there is nothing left for us to earn or repay. The cross shows us that God’s love is complete and that His wrath has been satisfied, so we can live in the freedom of knowing God is not against us but for us, holding onto hope as we wait for the victory of Easter.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

Click here if you’d like to join our GroupMe and receive this each morning at 7:00 a.m. CST.

Click on the image above or this link to watch today’s video.

You can read today’s passage here.

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Or, if you’d like to read the transcript of the video, keep reading!

Well, good morning. It’s good to be with you on this Good Friday. You know, it’s an old saying in the life of the church, but it’s true—Good Friday is, in some ways, a misnamed day. It’s “good” for us because of what was accomplished, but there was nothing easy, nothing pleasant about it for Jesus Christ. This is the day of the cross. This is the day where everything changes.

There’s a lot we could talk about today, but I want to focus on just a couple of things. First, I want us to understand how the cross and the empty tomb go together. We can’t separate them. Sometimes we rush ahead to Easter—and rightly so, because it’s coming—but we can’t skip over today. Because what happens on the cross is essential.

On the cross, Jesus atones for our sin. That word “atonement” simply means “at-one-ment”—that we are made one with God again. A friend of mine said that years ago, and it’s always stuck with me. Through the cross, what was broken is made whole. What was separated is brought back together. Now, the church has wrestled for centuries with exactly how all of that works—there are all kinds of theories about the atonement. But at the end of the day, here’s what we know: through the cross, we are made right with God.

If you go all the way back to Genesis, you see the problem. Sin enters the world, and with it comes death. That’s the consequence. So on the cross, Jesus deals with the sin. He takes it on Himself. He bears it. He pays for it. And then, on Easter, the resurrection deals with the consequence—death itself.

So think of it this way: the cross takes care of sin, and the empty tomb takes care of death. We need both. You don’t have one without the other. Together, they tell the full story of redemption.

And that’s why I wanted to read from Book of Isaiah 53 today—that powerful passage about the suffering servant. “He was despised and rejected… a man of suffering… He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities… and by His wounds we are healed.”

That’s the cross.

“All we like sheep have gone astray.” That’s us. Every one of us. “And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” That’s the heart of it. Not some of it. Not part of it. All of it.

Every sin you’ve ever committed. Every sin I’ve ever committed. The ones in the past, the ones we struggle with right now, even the ones we haven’t yet committed—laid on Him. Not just ours, but the sin of the whole world. Before Jesus, during His life, after His resurrection—all of it placed on Him.

He bore it.

He carried it.

He took it on Himself.

And what that means—and I really want you to hear this—is that there is nothing left for you to add. There is nothing you can do to make God love you more. There is nothing you can do to earn forgiveness. There is nothing you can do to atone for your own sin.

It has already been done.

Christ has paid it all.

There’s a line in that hymn “In Christ Alone” that says, “On the cross, the wrath of God was satisfied.” And what I want you to understand today is this: because of Jesus, God is not in the wrath business anymore.

God is not mad at you.

He’s not out to get you.

He’s not waiting for you to mess up so He can punish you.

The full weight of sin—the full weight of judgment—was placed on Jesus. “The punishment that brought us peace was upon Him.” That means peace has already been made.

So on this Good Friday, as heavy as this day is, I want you to sit in that truth: you are loved more than you can imagine. Not because of what you’ve done, but because of what He has done.

The cross is proof of that love.

And yes, today is heavy. Today is quiet. Today we sit in the reality of the cross. But we don’t sit without hope.

Because Sunday is coming.

Easter is coming.

And what was accomplished on the cross will be revealed in full through the empty tomb.

So hold onto that today. Let it sink in. You are loved. You are forgiven. And it has already been finished.

Thanks for being with me today. We’ll see you soon—and remember, Easter’s coming.

On Maundy Thursday, we remember both the command and the example given by Jesus Christ in Gospel of John 13: to love one another as He has loved us and to live that love out through humble service. In washing the disciples’ feet—a task reserved for the lowest servant—Jesus shows that true love is not about status or appearance, but about self-giving care for others. This day, marked by communion and the stripping away of the altar, reminds us that we must walk through darkness to reach the light of Easter, and it calls us to examine our own lives: are we willing to serve as Christ served? As followers of Jesus, we are given clear marching orders—to love, to serve, and to trust that this kind of sacrificial love is how God transforms both us and the world.

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

Click here if you’d like to join our GroupMe and receive this each morning at 7:00 a.m. CST.

Click on the image above or this link to watch today’s video.

You can read today’s passage here.

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Or, if you’d like to read the transcript of the video, keep reading!

Well, good morning. It’s good to be with you on this Maundy Thursday—the Thursday of Holy Week. This is, for me, probably my favorite day of Holy Week. I mentioned earlier in the week that the cleansing of the temple is one of my favorite teachings of Jesus, but this day… this day is something special. Tonight, churches all over the world—including us at St. Matthew’s—will gather for Maundy Thursday worship, and I really do hope if you’re able, you’ll be part of a service somewhere. There’s just so much meaning wrapped up in what we do. We take communion. We strip the altar. We remove the color. The sanctuary is left bare, almost empty—and that’s intentional. Because when you walk in on Easter morning and everything is full and bright and alive again, you feel it in a different way. You can’t get to the light without first walking through the darkness. You don’t get resurrection without the cross. You don’t get life without death.

In Gospel of John 13, we see what this day is really about. Yes, we talk about the “new commandment”—“that you love one another as I have loved you”—and that’s where the word “Maundy” comes from, that command. But I also want us to sit with what Jesus does, not just what He says. Because Jesus Christ doesn’t just give a command—He shows us what it looks like.

He gets up from the table. He takes off His outer robe. He ties a towel around Himself. And He kneels down and begins to wash the disciples’ feet.

Now, we’ve heard that story before, but don’t let it lose its weight. There was no more humbling, no more demeaning task in that culture than washing someone’s feet. This was servant work. This was the lowest job in the room. And yet the one they call Teacher and Lord is the one who does it.

Peter, of course, pushes back. “Lord, you’re not going to wash my feet.” And Jesus tells him plainly, “If I don’t wash you, you have no share with me.” Peter swings the other direction—“Then not just my feet, but my hands and my head!” And Jesus reminds him he’s already been made clean.

There’s a deeper layer here. The disciples likely would have already gone through ritual washing, what’s known as a mikvah. So this isn’t about ritual purity. Jesus isn’t just cleaning their feet—He’s showing them something about grace. About belonging. About what it means to be His.

And then He says it clearly: “If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

That’s it. That’s the call.

We are in the foot-washing business.

If we’re going to love like Jesus, it’s not going to be through words alone. It’s not going to be through appearances or status or power. It’s going to be through service—humble, often unseen, sometimes uncomfortable service. That’s how Jesus loved us. He served us. He gave Himself for us. And He says, “Now you go and do the same.”

And I really do believe this is how the world changes. Not through power. Not through force. But through love that serves. Through people who are willing to kneel down and care for one another. The early church was known for this. Tertullian once said, “See how they love one another.” That’s what set them apart.

And that’s still what should set us apart.

We serve one another in the church, yes—but it doesn’t stop there. We serve our communities. Our neighborhoods. Our towns. The places where God has planted us should be better because we are there. Your family should be better because you’re part of it. Your church should be better because you’re part of it. Your community should feel the presence of Christ because you are living it out.

Because here’s the truth—we’re not above this. We’re not greater than our Master. If Jesus served, then we don’t get to opt out. We don’t get to say, “That’s not my role.” No, this is exactly our role.

On this day, Jesus gives us a command to love. He gives us a meal that reminds us of His love. And He gives us an example of love through service.

So today, we’ve got our marching orders. We know what we’re called to do.

The question is, will we do it?

By His grace, may we not just hear it—but live it.

Hope you have a meaningful Maundy Thursday. And we’ll step into Good Friday together tomorrow.

On Holy Wednesday, often called “Spy Wednesday,” we see a quiet but pivotal moment in Holy Week where Judas Iscariot agrees to betray Jesus Christ, set alongside the beautiful act of a woman anointing Jesus with costly ointment in Gospel of Matthew 26. While the disciples focus on practicality and missed opportunity, Jesus highlights the deeper meaning of her act—an expression of love and preparation for His burial—reminding us not to overlook beauty in our faith. Judas, likely frustrated that Jesus was not becoming the kind of Messiah he expected, chooses betrayal when Jesus doesn’t meet his expectations. The passage challenges us to reflect on our own hearts: will we trust and follow Jesus even when we don’t understand His plans, or will we try to shape Him into what we want Him to be?

Join us for our daily reflections with Andy. In 10 short minutes, he’ll dig a little deeper into Scripture and help you better understand God’s Word.

Click here if you’d like to join our GroupMe and receive this each morning at 7:00 a.m. CST.

Click on the image above or this link to watch today’s video.

You can read today’s passage here.

You can podcast this reflection here. You can subscribe through Spotify or Apple Podcasts as well.

Or, if you’d like to read the transcript of the video, keep reading!

Well, good morning. It’s good to be with you on this Wednesday morning—this Holy Wednesday—as we continue walking together through Holy Week.

We’ve talked about the cleansing of the temple. We’ve talked about the teaching of Tuesday. Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday, and then, of course, Good Friday. But Wednesday… Wednesday is a quieter day. It doesn’t seem to have as much activity. It’s almost like a pause before everything that’s about to unfold.

Sometimes this day is called “Spy Wednesday,” because it’s traditionally understood as the day Judas agrees to betray Jesus.

So today I want us to look at that moment. I’m reading from Matthew 26:1–16.

Jesus has just finished all of His teaching—those teachings about the Son of Man, about judgment, about what is to come. And He tells His disciples, “You know that after two days the Passover is coming, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.”

At the same time, the chief priests and elders are gathering, plotting how to arrest Him quietly and kill Him—but not during the festival, because they’re afraid of the people.

And then we get this scene in Bethany. Jesus is at the house of Simon the leper, and a woman comes in with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, and she pours it on His head.

The disciples are upset. They say, “Why this waste? This could have been sold, and the money given to the poor.”

And let’s be honest—they’re not entirely wrong. That ointment was valuable. It could have done a lot of good.

But Jesus reframes it. He says, “Why do you trouble her? She has done a beautiful thing for me.” He reminds them that they will always have the poor, but they will not always have Him. And He says that in anointing Him, she has prepared Him for burial.

Then, right after that, we’re told that Judas Iscariot goes to the chief priests and asks, “What will you give me if I betray Him?” And they pay him thirty pieces of silver. From that moment on, he begins looking for an opportunity to hand Jesus over.

I think it’s important that we hold those two stories together—the woman and Judas—because they tell us something when we put them side by side.

First, think about Judas for a moment. Judas was the treasurer of the group. And you don’t just let anyone handle the money, do you? In your church, in your organization—you don’t just give that role to anybody. That’s someone you trust.

So Judas must have been trusted. He was one of them. That’s important to remember.

Now think about the woman’s act. From a practical standpoint, the disciples had a point. That resource could have been used in a different way. It could have been turned into something measurable, something efficient.

But what they missed—and what Jesus saw—was the beauty of it.

And I think this is something we need to hear. Especially as Protestants, we can become so practical, so focused on function, that we forget the importance of beauty.

Our Catholic and Episcopal brothers and sisters—they understand something about this. They build beautiful spaces. Stained glass, architecture that lifts your eyes upward—there’s something about beauty that draws us toward God.

And sometimes we can lose that. We can become so utilitarian in our faith that we forget to notice what is simply beautiful.

That woman’s act—it was beautiful. It didn’t have to make sense on a spreadsheet. It didn’t have to justify itself. It was an act of love, of devotion, of worship.

So don’t miss that. Look for beauty. There is beauty all around us, and it points us to God.

But Judas… Judas may have seen it very differently. This may have felt like a waste to him. It may have even been the final straw.

John’s Gospel tells us that Satan entered into him, so there’s clearly a spiritual dimension here. But I also think there’s something else going on.

We talked on Palm Sunday about expectations—how people wanted Jesus to be an earthly king, a political ruler, someone who would lead a revolution. But Jesus didn’t come to do that. He came to give His life.

And I wonder if that disappointed Judas. I wonder if he wanted Jesus to be something different. Some scholars even suggest that Judas may have been trying to force Jesus’ hand—pushing Him into action. “Are you the Messiah or not? Are you going to start this revolution or not?”

But Jesus wasn’t going to be forced into something He didn’t come to do.

And that raises a hard question for us: what do we do when Jesus isn’t what we want Him to be?

What do we do when His plan doesn’t match our plan? When His call on our lives isn’t the one we would choose? When the path He sets before us doesn’t make sense?

Judas couldn’t handle that tension. And so he turned away. He betrayed.

And if we’re honest, we’re not always that different.

There are moments when we try to shape Jesus into our image—when we try to bend Him to our will instead of allowing ourselves to be shaped by His. There are moments when we struggle because He isn’t doing what we want, when we want, how we want.

So as we move closer to Good Friday—and we’re almost there now—and as Easter approaches, I think there are a couple of things for us to hold onto.

First, pay attention to beauty. Don’t miss it. Don’t rush past it. Let it draw your eyes—and your heart—toward God.

And second, be honest about where you might be trying to make Jesus into something He’s not. Where are you resisting His will? Where are you struggling because His way isn’t your way?

When you find yourself there—and we all do—don’t walk away.

Lean in.

Stay close.

Because just because we don’t understand what He’s doing doesn’t mean He doesn’t know exactly what He’s doing.

So today, follow Him. Stay near to Him. And when you don’t understand, walk even a little closer.

Thanks for being with me. Tomorrow we’ll step into Maundy Thursday together.