Depending on how riddled with ADHD you are, you may have quite a few unfinished projects you're currently juggling. I know, I know. You'll get to them someday.

Now, I'm no doctor or psychologist, but the internet tells me people with ADHD have a hard time finishing tasks. Which means I probably have some level of ADHD.

There's the unfinished painting I was going to get to eventually that sat in my room for years. There's the kitchen floor that still isn't quite finished. The stack of books I started but never finished, and the innumerable video games I bought with every intention of beating… yet there they sit, still unfinished.

Maybe you can relate.

Those kinds of things may be frustrating, but there's one unfinished project that has a strange beauty: You.

All of us are works in progress. We know the people we are, and we know the people we want to become. And there's something strangely beautiful about the slow, methodical march of maturity.

This week, we're closing out our study of 1 Thessalonians by looking at one of the most important ways God works to finish the project of you. And what we'll discover is that the completion of our transformation ultimately rests on God's faithfulness, not our ability to get our act together.

So, if you've ever been frustrated by how slowly you're changing, discouraged by the same old struggles, or wondered whether you'll ever become the person God created you to be, I'd love for you to join us this Sunday. There's a beautiful promise waiting for us at the end of 1 Thessalonians, and I think it's one we all need to hear.

Oh yeah, and good news! We'll also be sharing Communion at the end of the service.

I can't wait to worship with you!

At this point, I’ve been pastoring for a while. In fact, compared to most pastors my age, I have quite a bit of ministry experience, simply because I started so young!

I began leading youth ministry when I was 18 years old. By 21, I was ordained as a pastor by our Baptist church. So, this year marks 20 years of ordained ministry! Over those years, I’ve seen a few things, stepped on far too many land mines, and boy, do I have some stories.

Now, this week is especially meaningful because I’m getting ordained… again.

Did you know you could get ordained twice? I didn’t really know that until a couple of years ago, but here we are. After two years of classes, conferences, research papers, interviews, and meetings, this week I am finally being ordained for ministry in the Christian and Missionary Alliance!

I realize I’m throwing around the word “ordination” like it’s something we normally talk about, but it’s not exactly a word you hear outside the church. So, what is ordination?

Simply put, ordination is when the church formally recognizes and sets someone apart for pastoral ministry. It’s an affirmation of a person's calling, character, and commitment to serving Jesus and his church. While I’ve already been ordained in the Baptist tradition, this ordination will allow me to fully serve as an ordained pastor in the Christian and Missionary Alliance.

It’s not a graduation, but in a lot of ways, it’s more important. Not because it’s about me, but because of the eternal significance of the work God has called pastors to do. The responsibility of shepherding God's people, faithfully preaching his Word, and pointing people to Jesus is something I don't take lightly.

And after 20 years, I think I understand the weight of that responsibility more than I did when I was 21.

So, I would love for you to join us this Sunday as we celebrate my second ordination. It’s a special milestone for me, and I’d be honored to share it with the church family I have the privilege of serving.

It was about 2:00 AM. I was very asleep. And my phone started ringing.

When I opened my eyes, it took me a second to register what was going on. I squinted at my phone and recognized the name on the screen.

We had moved to Boston a couple of years earlier, but I still had close friends in North Carolina. The name on the screen was one of them. I knew I had to answer, but honestly, I half expected it to be an accident. Who calls someone at 2:00 AM?

I cleared my throat and, with a croaky, half-asleep voice, weakly squeaked out, “Hello?”

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. Then I heard sobbing.

Suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore. “What’s wrong?”

Through tears and broken sentences, I finally heard him say, “Ivey, my dad just died.”

My heart broke. His dad had just been taken from the house. The EMS had barely left, and one of the first things my friend did was pick up the phone and call me.

So, I listened. We talked. Then we prayed. The whole call probably lasted about 20 minutes. Over the next few days, I stayed in touch, checking in and praying for him.

As hard as that phone call was to receive, I’ve always considered it a privilege that, at one of the worst moments of his life, I was someone he could call at 2:00 AM.

So let me ask you a question: Who could you call at 2:00 AM?

If your world suddenly fell apart, who could you call without worrying that you were bothering them? And maybe the harder question is: Are you someone’s someone? Who knows they could call you at 2:00 AM?

Tomorrow, we’re going to talk about Christian friendship and community. Because the kind of relationships described in the Bible go much deeper than shaking hands on Sunday morning and asking, “How was your week?”

Christian community means knowing and being known. It means having people who celebrate with you when life is good, weep with you when life falls apart, and love you enough that a 2:00 AM phone call isn’t a bother.

We’re going to open Romans 12 and ask a simple question: Who knows you?

If you’re longing for deeper friendships, wrestling with loneliness, new to Arborway, or simply wondering what genuine Christian community could look like in your life, I really hope you’ll join us tomorrow morning.

Maybe the first step toward having someone you can call at 2:00 AM is making room in your life for people who can become family.

Saying goodbye is an interesting thing. Different cultures do it differently.

In the South, goodbyes can be long ordeals that start with a “Bye, y’all,” move to a prayer, and close with a blessing like, “Y’all come back now,” as the whole family stands on the porch waving while you drive to your house 10 minutes down the road.

The urban North tends to be almost the opposite. The fast pace of the city leads to fast goodbyes. When it’s time, people say a quick, “I have to head out.” And they leave. Maybe there’s a handshake or a quick hug if it’s someone really close.

While I’ve never lived in the Midwest, I’ve heard that a goodbye starts with a knee-slap and the phrase, “Ope, I suppose it’s time,” followed by standing by the door, chatting for another 45 minutes, and saying incremental goodbyes from room to room.

The Irish goodbye is infamous. This is when a person leaves a function without saying anything. One moment they’re at the party, and the next they aren’t. No one knows when or even how they left. Funny enough, this was my preferred goodbye until I married into an Italian family.

The Italian goodbye is the exact opposite of the Irish goodbye. It includes going to the don of the family, paying your respects, talking for another 10–30 minutes, several hugs, and a few kisses too. Plus, there’s the offer of a sandwich on the way out the door because, “You’re looking thin.”
 
1 Thessalonians tells us that the Christian goodbye is different too.
 
When believers say goodbye, it’s never final. It’s always only, “See you later.”
I love that.
 
This Sunday, we’re talking about saying goodbye. Every one of us either has had to, or one day will have to, say goodbye in death to someone we love. And when that happens, Christians really do grieve. Death hurts.
 
But we don’t grieve without hope.
 
This week, we’ll see how the resurrection of Jesus changes the way Christians face death, grieve those we’ve lost, and live with hope that one day every goodbye will be undone.

When you think of typical ways of showing love to your significant other, you probably think about flowers, gifts, physical affection, regular communication, date nights, and experiences. Those are good and necessary, but after being married for twenty years, I’ve discovered some unconventional ways to love my wife. Here are a few examples.

I put down the toilet seat. When I first got married, I did not realize the dangers involved with not doing this. If you’re looking to give your wife a good scare and destroy trust, leaving up the toilet seat is a great idea. If you want to love her well, put it down.

I pick up my clothes off the floor (sometimes). Okay, I’ll admit, I need work in this area. Sometimes I’m just so tired that I don’t feel like it… but that’s a terrible excuse that a child would make. I’m almost a full-grown man at this point. Let’s soften it a bit: I make sure my clothes don’t get too out of hand on the floor next to my bed.

I put away my dishes after meals and put my lunch box containers away immediately. Again, I know Allie is reading this. I’m not perfect in this area, but I try. When I do my part around the house, it helps lighten the load on Allie.

I know what you’re thinking: “Ivey, you pig, this isn’t love. This is just how one maintains a functional home. Do your part. And don’t pat yourself on the back about it.”

Fair enough.

But here’s the deal: I would do all these things if I lived alone, but not at the speed my wife does. For instance, I would let dishes sit in the sink until evening. But not my wife. She never wants a dish in the sink.

So, my real unconventional way of loving her is the speed and frequency at which I do mundane things around the house.

Love often looks different from what’s typical. This Sunday, we’re continuing our exploration of 1 Thessalonians by looking at three unconventional ways we love our neighbors. We’re going to see that loving our neighbors isn’t only about charity and kindness. It goes even deeper than that.

I’d love for you to join us tomorrow for worship as we learn how deep neighbor love truly goes.

P.S. This is a special and sad week as we say goodbye to Matt and Nicole. They have been an integral and important part of Arborway for years. We will be praying for them and sending them out as they head down to the Sunshine State to continue the Lord’s work.

Let’s talk about utensils in the Jewish Temple. They’re way cooler than you think. What, you’re not immediately engaged? Let me explain.

What do you think of when you hear the word holy? Maybe you think of God. Perhaps you think of a saint. Depending on your background, you may think of Mary. Or, if you’re a turophile, maybe you’re thinking about Swiss cheese.

In today’s culture, outside of church, the word holy doesn’t always have a positive meaning. Its most common uses probably involve a curse word or the phrase “holier than thou” (which is not a compliment). The word holy can carry tones of judgmentalism and self-righteousness. Yikes.

Yet, in 1 Thessalonians, we’re going to see that God calls us to be holy. Thankfully, he’s not calling us to self-righteousness. He’s calling us to be more like those Temple utensils.

In the Jewish Temple, priests regularly offered sacrifices, and they needed tools to do it. They had knives, skewers, and all kinds of other utensils. But these weren’t just any utensils. They were holy utensils. Meaning that they had been set apart from ordinary use for a special purpose: service to God. A priest would never grab a knife from home to use at the Temple. That knife was common. The Temple knife was holy; set apart for God.

That helps us understand what it means for Christians to be holy. To be holy means to be set apart for God. Our lives belong to him, and that gives us a different purpose and a different way to live.

This Sunday, we’re continuing our series through 1 Thessalonians by looking at the first of three areas where God calls us to live differently. What does holiness actually look like in real life? And what does God want to change in us?

I can’t wait to tell you more tomorrow and worship with you!

Oh, I almost forgot. We also have a special guest named Jess joining us! She’s a missionary serving in Japan, and she’ll share some ways Arborway can be part of what God is doing there.

Have you seen those Progressive car insurance ads where Dr. Rick helps people not become like their parents? I get a kick out of them because every day I find myself becoming more and more like my parents. I’ll do something completely out of nowhere and think, “Wow, that was just like my dad.”

Those Progressive ads are actually helpful to me because I’m not always sure which things I do are “parent things.” I saw one the other day with a man sitting in the back of an Uber correcting the app’s directions and telling the driver a better way to go. I saw that and thought, “Oh, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do that. I thought I was being helpful!”

Rarely has an Uber driver actually listened to me. And when they did… it didn’t always turn out so great.

Have you ever done that? Just me?

Maybe you’ve never done that with your Uber driver, but we often do the exact same thing with God. It goes something like this: “Sure, God, I see that you’re telling me to go this direction, act this way, or do this thing… but I think I know a better way.”

Thinking I know a better way than my Uber driver is probably a bad idea. Thinking I know a better way than God is a much worse one.

This Sunday, we’re continuing our study through 1 Thessalonians, and we’re going to discover that God has given us a way to walk. His way is simple. It’s beautiful. It’s better. And sometimes, it’s really hard.

But what if the life God is calling you to live isn’t about figuring out the way for yourself? What if he’s already shown you the way, and the invitation is simply to trust him enough to walk in it?

It’s great to be back this week, and I’d love for you to join us for worship tomorrow as we talk about what it means to follow God’s way when we’re convinced ours might be better.

When I was growing up, martial arts movies were all the rage. If it wasn’t Fist of Fury or The Kung Fu Shaolin Master, it was Drunken Master, Enter the Dragon, or quirky classics like Snake in the Monkey’s Shadow.

A familiar storyline ran through almost every one of these films: a novice, crushed by opponents, seeks out a legendary master to learn how to fight back. Often, the student arrives driven by anger, impatience, and a thirst for revenge.

Whenever the master takes them in, the training is never what the apprentice expects. Instead of advanced combat techniques, the student is assigned mundane chores—sweeping the courtyard, cutting grass, or carrying heavy buckets of water up the mountain. Frustration inevitably boils over: "I came here to become a master, but all you've made me do is chop bamboo!" Some walk away bitter, convinced their time was wasted. Those who stay, however, discover something remarkable: the mundane work was the training all along. 

They were no longer ruled by reckless anger. They had developed discipline, stamina, and self-control. Most importantly, their strength was no longer meant for petty revenge, but to protect and serve others. 

The parallel to our walk with Christ is striking. 
We often come to the Master with our own blueprints and timelines for how life should go. When God leads us through seasons of routine tasks, patient waiting, or unexpected trials, our human reaction is to doubt, complain, or grow weary. 

We may not always understand the training while we are in the middle of it, but when we surrender our plans to Him, God uses every season to shape our character and secure the victory. It rarely looks like what we initially imagined, it’s His way, because He is the Way. 

Join us this Sunday as we gather to be comforted, challenged, and instructed in God's Word by the greatest Master of all: Jesus, who walked the walk and showed us the way.

More than a generation ago, some missionaries went to a little place in South Africa and shared the gospel. Like most missionaries, they were simply trying to be faithful, and somewhere along the way, the grandparents of a young man named Shaun Pillay heard the good news and believed.

Shaun grew up in South Africa as a third-generation Christian. He eventually went into ministry himself, studying at Durban Bible College and the University of Zululand before serving as a youth and missions pastor in Durban.

But God did something interesting in 2005. While attending a conference in Birmingham, England, Shaun heard about the need for missionaries in the United States.

For generations, American Christians had raised money and sent missionaries around the world. Missionaries had traveled to places like South Africa because there were people there who needed to hear about Jesus.

Now, a Christian from South Africa was hearing that America needed missionaries, and Shaun answered the call.

A few years later, Shaun and his wife, Deshni, moved to New England and planted Cornerstone City Church in Norwich, Connecticut. Shaun would go on to spend years helping plant churches and develop leaders throughout Connecticut and Rhode Island.

And now, God has brought the story full circle. Shaun Pillay is serving as the Send City Missionary for Boston, helping churches and church planters reach one of the least-churched regions in the United States.

Those missionaries in South Africa couldn't possibly have known where their faithfulness would lead. They couldn't have known that one day the gospel they preached would make its way through a family, across generations, across an ocean, and eventually all the way to Boston.

While I’m out of town, you have the privilege of hearing from Shaun. You will be blessed, encouraged, and challenged by him. I pray you’ll join us this week!

Several years ago, my wife Allie and I took a trip to San Francisco. One of the things I had always wanted to see was the giant redwoods, so we crossed the Golden Gate and explored Muir Woods.

Since elementary school, I had heard about the majesty of these trees. Some redwoods can reach over 300 feet into the air, with trunks so massive it takes multiple people holding hands to reach around them.

While at Muir Woods, I learned something fascinating about redwoods and forest fires. Their thick bark helps protect them from fire, which means they can not only survive many fires but actually benefit from them. Fire clears competing vegetation, returns nutrients to the soil, and can create conditions that encourage new growth.

For generations, Indigenous people intentionally used controlled burns to care for the land. Later, aggressive fire suppression became common. The irony is that trying to protect forests from every fire can actually harm the growth of the redwoods.

Turns out that protecting something from every hardship can actually harm it.
This week we're going to see something similar in Paul's love for the Thessalonian church. They were experiencing serious persecution, and Paul cared deeply about their suffering. But his primary concern wasn't simply getting them out of it. He sent Timothy to strengthen and encourage their faith so they could stand firm through it.

The fires in our lives are absolutely no fun. But sometimes the loving thing isn't immediately putting out the fire. Sometimes it's standing beside someone and helping them become stronger through it.

If you're going through a fire right now, or trying to help someone who is, join us tomorrow as we talk about how to know when love should put the fire out and when love needs to let it burn.

I’ll be honest: when I was in history class, I usually thought the most important question was, "Is this going to be on the test?" But as I got older, I realized history isn't just about memorizing dates and names; it’s about understanding people. And one story from the fourth century shows us something powerful about the impact of a life lived differently.

In the fourth century, the Roman emperor Julian - often called Julian the Apostate because he abandoned the Christian faith and attempted to restore paganism as the religion of the Roman Empire - set out to reverse the growing influence of Christianity. Yet despite his efforts, he became frustrated by the church's continued growth. In one of his letters to a pagan priest, Julian complained that Christians "support not only their own poor, but ours as well."

Julian realized that while pagan temples struggled to inspire generosity, Christians were caring for widows, orphans, the sick, and anyone else in need, regardless of whether they shared their faith. Ironically, one of Christianity's greatest critics became an unwitting witness to its power. The way believers loved and served one another gave credibility to the gospel they proclaimed.

This Sunday, we'll continue our study of 1st Thessalonians and we'll examine the ways that Paul lived among the Thessalonians gave credibility to the gospel he proclaimed.  My prayer is that our lives and our love for one another will do the same today!

I can’t wait to worship with you this Sunday!

The Red Sox are doing it again. They’re giving me hope.
I’m not sure how closely you follow baseball, but the Red Sox started this season with one of the worst records in baseball. It was so bad they fired their longtime manager, Alex Cora. And just my luck, for the first time in my New England life, I decided to bite the bullet and pay for NESN so the family could enjoy some baseball. Instead, we went to bed devastated night after night from loss upon loss.
Then something changed.
I’m not sure if it was the arrival of the Tartan Army or a pep talk from Big Papi, but they turned it around. As I’m writing this, they’ve won 14 straight games and are chasing a franchise record of 15. At their lowest point, their playoff chances were in the single digits. Now they’re sitting around a 65% chance to make the postseason!
It’s finally fun to watch Boston baseball again! And thanks to The 99 Restaurant, the Red Sox have once again become the leading cause of childhood obesity (If you don’t know, kids eat free at The 99 every time the Sox win).
As much fun as this run has been, the Red Sox can’t give lasting hope. In fact, they’re almost guaranteed to disappoint me eventually. But it’s not just baseball. We often put our hope in things that were never meant to carry it: money, success, power, control, relationships, even our own plans. They all promise more than they can deliver.
Tomorrow, we begin a new series in the book of 1 Thessalonians. Paul wrote this letter to a church facing real hardship, yet they were filled with a hope that couldn’t be shaken. Their confidence wasn’t built on circumstances getting better. It was anchored in Jesus Christ.
If you could use that kind of hope, I’d love for you to join us as we begin our journey through 1 Thessalonians.

The Pony Express is one of those romantic pieces of Americana. I picture cowboys racing across the frontier at full speed, carrying saddlebags full of letters through deserts, mountains, and dangerous territory.

The Pony Express was created because it took so long for mail to travel across the country. A letter from New York to California could take weeks or even months to arrive. The Pony Express guaranteed delivery in just ten days. It cost $5 to send a single letter, which is more than $150 in today's money.

What surprised me is that the Pony Express only lasted 18 months. I always assumed it operated for decades! Why did it disappear so quickly? Because about a year and a half after it began, a little invention called the telegraph changed everything. For about the same price, a message could travel in minutes rather than days. The Pony Express couldn't compete.

The messengers changed, but the message kept moving.

Tomorrow we'll finish our journey through the book of Acts. Paul finally arrives in Rome, but something becomes clear almost immediately: Luke isn't writing a biography of Paul. He's telling the story of Jesus continuing to build His church. Paul would eventually die, but the gospel wouldn't. The messenger would change, but the message would keep moving.
That's how the gospel reached you.

It crossed oceans, outlasted empires, survived persecution, and passed through countless ordinary men and women who faithfully shared the good news of Jesus with the next person. The story didn't end with Paul, and it doesn't end with us.

Join us tomorrow as we discover why the final chapter of Acts is really an invitation to continue the story.

My junior year of high school was spent at a very conservative Christian school. Along with the normal school rules came a very strict dress code. Girls wore ankle-length skirts and had to keep their hair long. Boys wore khakis and tucked-in button-up shirts. Our hair couldn't touch our ears or our collars.
 
These weren't just rules on paper. After chapel, teachers stood at the exits inspecting everyone's uniforms and hair. If your hair touched your ears or collar, you had until the next morning to get it cut or you'd receive a demerit.
The rules didn't stop there. Even on the middle school retreat, the boys swam in pants, and the girls swam in ankle-length skirts.
 
It wasn't just about clothing either. Rock and rap music were considered completely ungodly, whether the lyrics were Christian or not. That was a problem for me because my entire identity revolved around punk rock and emo music. If the school found out I listened to Christian punk music, it was grounds for automatic expulsion.
 
Looking back, what strikes me isn't the dress code or the music policy. It's how easy it is for people to add rules on top of what God actually requires. Somehow, we have a tendency to confuse our preferences with God's commands.
The early church faced that very temptation.
 
This Sunday we'll look at one of the most important moments in the book of Acts. A group of sincere Jewish Christians began telling Gentile believers that faith in Jesus wasn't enough, they also needed to follow the Jewish law if they truly wanted to belong to God's family.
 
Thankfully, Paul, Barnabas, Peter, and James understood what was at stake. The freedom we enjoy in Christ today was defended at this first church council in Jerusalem.
 
I hope you'll join us this Sunday as we discover why Jesus is enough, why we must never add to the gospel, and how grace frees us to love one another.

The Narnia series is a classic. In fact, another Narnia movie is set to hit theaters in early 2027. While a lot of people know the classic story of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, that’s where their knowledge of the series ends. But the book series has so many great stories!
 
My favorite as a kid was The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It’s an adventure story that leaves the shores of Narnia in search of seven exiled lords. What’s so interesting about it is that it’s not one continuous narrative, but several stories strung together by a single voyage. They go from island to island finding new adventures and problems to solve. It’s a high-seas fantasy version of the literary “Road Narrative.” Other stories that fit this genre are The Odyssey and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn… and tomorrow’s passage in Acts.
 
This Sunday we’re going to get our own biblical version of the road narrative as we follow the adventures of Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey. We’ll encounter sorcery, conflict, and danger as they seek to take the gospel to new places.
 
This week’s sermon will look a little different than most, but I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. And besides, it’s good to switch it up occasionally.
 
Join us tomorrow for Beyond the Door of Faith, an epic high-seas adventure (That really happened) through Acts 13–14!

This is a universal husband experience. So much so that there are probably thousands of memes about it.
 
My wife can tell me exactly where something is in the house. She knows when it got there, who put it there, and how I should go about finding it. Then I go looking... and it's nowhere to be found.
 
Eventually, I ask for help. She'll look at me sideways and disappointedly say, "If I come in there and find it, you're going to be in trouble."
 
Then she walks into the room, reaches into the exact spot I already looked three times, and somehow the item magically appears. I still don't know how she does it.
 
Somehow, I'm incredibly close to what I'm looking for, yet I'm completely missing it.
 
This week in Acts 10, we'll meet two men who are closer to the truth than they realize. Peter has walked with Jesus, seen the resurrection, and been filled with the Holy Spirit, yet he's still missing something right in front of him. Cornelius is moral, generous, devout, and sincerely seeking God, yet he's missing something too.
 
Both men are closer than they think, but neither has the whole picture.
 
The truth is, we all have blind spots. Sometimes the thing we're missing is sitting right in front of us.
 
Join us this Sunday as we discover what Peter missed, what Cornelius needed, and what God wants all of us to see.

Years ago, I was in a punk band. One weekend we drove to Atlanta to play a show. The whole trip was a disaster. Our hotel reservation was canceled and we didn't have enough money for another one, a couple of the cars had mechanical problems, and the show itself was a train wreck.
 
Finally, the fiasco weekend was over, and it was time to drive home. As the leader of the band, I was naturally the lead car.
 
I pulled onto the interstate heading north and began cruising. North seemed a little weird to me, because I lived south of Atlanta, but interstates are weird. You can be going north while actually heading south. I ignored my gut for an hour and a half.
 
Now, this was before smartphones. Google Maps came from a printer, and as a broke college student I couldn't afford one of those fancy TomTom GPS units.
 
Then I saw the sign, "Chattanooga Tennessee - 45 Miles." Panic set in. I was supposed to be heading to South Carolina, and I was on my way to the River City of Tennessee. Let’s just say, that’s the exact wrong direction.
 
I immediately pulled over and had to make a confession to everyone following me: "I've been driving the wrong direction for the last hour and a half." It was humiliating, and I hated every moment. Everyone was so mad at me, but we turned around and began going the right way.
 
Maybe you know the feeling. That sinking sensation when you realize you've been confidently moving in the wrong direction. Maybe it was a wrong decision, a wrong assumption, a wrong relationship, or a wrong belief. Whatever it was, there comes a moment when reality catches up to you and you have to admit: I was wrong.
 
Most of us don't like that moment. We avoid it, defend against it, explain it away, or double down rather than admit it.
But one of the surprising lessons from Acts 9 is that following Jesus often begins when we finally admit we're wrong.
This Sunday we're going to meet two men named Saul and Ananias. Both believed they were right, both had deeply held beliefs and assumptions… and both men were wrong.
 
The difference wasn't that they got everything right. The difference was what they did when God showed them they were wrong. They changed.
 
That's good news for people like us. Thankfully, being wrong isn't our biggest problem. Refusing to admit it is.
 
This Sunday we'll see how Jesus transforms a church, a city, and eventually the world through two people who were willing to let him correct their direction. And if we're honest, that's something every one of us needs.
 
Oh yeah! And tomorrow is Father’s Day. Let’s celebrate our dads with a meal after church. It’s going to be amazing!

This week I am out of town preaching a teen summer camp in South Carolina. As you read this, I am probably psyching myself up to endure 100º days and preparing to fight for my life on a bed made from strawy and rusty springs. I keep reminding myself it’s all for Jesus. And like Paul, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Pray please.
 
While I’m away, some of you may be tempted to take a Sunday away. Please don’t. One of the joys of being part of the body of Christ is learning from faithful believers whom God has been using in unique ways, and tomorrow we have the privilege of doing just that.
 
The elders of Arborway Community Church want to extend a warm welcome to Kim Findlay. Kim lives just outside of Boston with her family and has spent more than twenty years serving as a writer, speaker, and ministry leader. Throughout her ministry, she has been passionate about helping people see the goodness of God and develop an enduring faith in Jesus Christ.
 
You may know Kim through her writing. She is the author of two books, including Breathing in Ashes, a deeply personal memoir that reflects on the tragic loss of her youngest daughter and her journey of wrestling with God's goodness in the midst of profound suffering.
 
She has also written curriculum for Big Idea Productions (the folks behind VeggieTales) and David C. Cook publishing. You can also find her articles in numerous Christian publications.
 
What I appreciate most about Kim's ministry is her commitment to weaving together Scripture and real-life stories in a way that encourages people to fix their eyes on Jesus and trust Him through every season of life.
 
We're grateful that she's able to speak for us tomorrow. I pray that you will join us tomorrow for worship and be blessed as Kim brings a word of encouragement from Acts 8.

Do you remember Magic Eye pictures? If you grew up in the ’90s, there’s no way you didn’t encounter them. They were everywhere. I remember they were even included in the Sunday edition of our local newspaper.
 
If you don’t know what a Magic Eye is, they’re officially called stereograms. They’re 2D images that, when you look at them just right, suddenly become 3D. Each Magic Eye contained a hidden shape or object. It might be a unicorn, a baseball player, or something equally random. The trick was getting the image to pop and holding it long enough to figure out what you were actually looking at. Were you ever able to make them work?
 
The first Magic Eye book had the tagline, “A new way of looking at the world.” And it’s true. It was a new, headache-inducing way to see the world.
 
This week, we’re going to explore the life of a man who saw the world differently. His name was Stephen. Stephen lived with his eyes fixed on Jesus, and because of that, he navigated the world differently than everyone around him. We’ll see how Stephen’s vision of Jesus gave him the courage to die for his faith and became part of God’s plan to launch the church out of Jerusalem and into the rest of the world.
 
I’d love for you to join us tomorrow as we discover a new way of looking at the world, and how that vision can shape our lives in beautiful and life-changing ways.
 
Plus, it’s the first Sunday of June, which means we’ll be celebrating communion together. I hope you’ll join us.

Have you seen the new Instagram Instants? They’re uncurated snapshots of life, and all the kids are using them. What I find funny about them is that they’re the complete opposite of what Instagram was originally built on.
 
If you remember, Instagram started as the artsy alternative to Facebook. You were supposed to take pictures from interesting angles and drench them in filters. We were all out trying to capture the perfect shot of our exploits, from the perfect angle, with the perfect people, and the perfect pose.
 
Instants are meant to capture life without filters or preparation. Just snap a picture of your life and share it. It’s all about authenticity.
 
Millennials like me love a well-shot photo, but Gen Z tends to make fun of curated Instagram feeds. They know that the moment before that picture was taken, everyone was probably acting crazy or miserable… maybe both. Dad was yelling. Mom was crying. The kids were screaming. The Gram looked great, but it wasn’t authentic.
 
And this cycle just keeps perpetuating itself. Because when I see your perfectly curated vacation photos, suddenly I need some of my own! So I go to the spot, not necessarily to enjoy the spot itself, but so I can post a picture from THE spot. There are entire industries built around this idea.
 
Even discipleship and faith aren’t immune.
 
We’ve all probably seen the girl with her journal, coffee, and perfectly highlighted Bible open, posting a verse about her sweet time with the Lord. Or the guy sitting around a campfire, smoking cigars and drinking whiskey with “great men of faith.”
 
The reality is more mundane. Everyone’s life is some mixture of great, good, bad, and terrible. Social media can make it feel like everyone else has it all together, but we all have hard days.
 
I once heard someone say that social media is driving us crazy because, “You’re comparing your behind-the-scenes to everyone else’s highlight reel.”
 
This week, we’re looking at a couple named Ananias and Sapphira who started playing the comparison game, and it ended terribly for them. They gave the appearance of holiness without the sacrifice of holiness, and it cost them their lives.
 
This Sunday, we’re going to talk about what it means to live authentically as a Christian. Christianity is not about having the holiest-looking Instagram feed, saying the right Christian words, or curating a polished spiritual image.
 
It’s about honestly bringing your broken self before Jesus, trusting what He accomplished through the cross and resurrection, and allowing Him to transform you over time.
 
I hope you’ll join us this Sunday.

Have you ever had that dreaded text come through? You know the one. The text you were expecting, but hoping would never actually arrive. Maybe it was about a relationship, bad news, or something you’d been trying to avoid. How do you respond? Do you freeze?
 
I know I freeze sometimes. I’ll see the text come through, read the first few words, and leave it sitting in my inbox. Because if I open it, they’ll see I’ve read it, and honestly, I’m not ready to deal with it yet. So, I leave it there with that little blue dot beside it and promise myself I’ll come back later. I’m not proud of it, but sometimes days pass before I respond.
 
Now, to be fair, maybe I need a few minutes to think through a coherent response. Maybe it’s late and the text can wait until morning. But let’s be honest: I don’t need days. I’m usually just delaying the inevitable.
We all know what it’s like to freeze. Peter did too.
 
One night, around a campfire, Peter got a dreaded question from a servant girl while Jesus was on trial and heading toward the cross. “Weren’t you with Jesus?” Peter froze. He fumbled. And eventually, he denied even knowing Jesus.
 
But somehow, that same Peter becomes one of the boldest witnesses for Christ the world has ever seen.
 
Just weeks after freezing, he stood in Jerusalem, the very city where Jesus had been crucified and publicly preached that Jesus had risen from the dead. The people who killed Jesus could’ve easily turned on Peter too. But the man who once froze around a campfire now boldly proclaimed Christ in the streets.
What changed? That’s exactly what we’re going to look at this Sunday as we continue our series through Acts.
 
Because we all live in a culture where being open about our faith can feel uncomfortable. It can be hard to speak up. Hard to stand out. Hard to be bold.
 
But Acts shows us something surprising: Boldness isn’t a personality trait reserved for extroverts. It’s not natural confidence or charisma. Boldness is a gift God gives ordinary people through the power of the Holy Spirit.
 
I can’t wait to worship with you this Sunday!

Before Apple and Android were battling for smartphone domination, Nokia reigned supreme. I still remember the first time I saw a Nokia phone. It felt like magic.
 
That thing was sweet. It’s clear case allowed you to see all the internals, it flashed different colors when it rang, and you could send these revolutionary things called “text messages.” But beyond the coolness was an ability that almost seemed like magic: it was indestructible. I immediately got one when I turned 18.
 
Eventually I upgraded phones, and while I can’t remember what happened to it, it’s most likely still functioning somewhere on earth today. Modern smartphones need thick protective cases just to survive a 3-foot drop. Meanwhile, a Nokia could fall off the Pru, crack the sidewalk, and still have three bars of service. Rumor has it Boston may start lining the sinking parts of Back Bay with old Nokia phones to stabilize the foundation.
 
I’m not entirely sure how they did it, but against all odds, those little plastic bricks were unstoppable.
 
Ok, weird detour, I know. But I promise this has something to do with Acts 2.
The early church was a little like a Nokia phone. It was unstoppable. And honestly, it doesn’t make sense on paper. The Apostles were fishermen, tradesmen, a political activist, and a tax collector. It sounds less like the beginning of a world-changing movement and more like the setup for a bad joke.
 
And listen, those are respectable jobs. But if you and I were assembling the “Gospel Avengers,” we probably wouldn’t have picked those guys.
 
Yet somehow, this ragtag group of mostly uneducated Galileans became the catalyst for the most influential movement in human history. By all accounts, Christianity should have disappeared a few years after Jesus’ crucifixion. Instead, 2,000 years later, we’re still feeling the effects of their ministry.
 
So what happened? How did this tiny movement become unstoppable?
 
Tomorrow we’re going to look at Acts 2 and uncover the explosive secret behind the launch of the church, and why that same power still matters today.
 
I hope you will join us for worship!

It’s not uncommon for a dynamic leader to leave a company or movement and see everything fall to pieces.
 
Steve Jobs co-founded Apple with Steve Wozniak in the garage of Jobs’ parents. What started as a small startup would eventually become one of the largest companies in the world. But the road there wasn’t exactly smooth.
 
In 1985, Steve Jobs was fired from the company he helped create after major disagreements with Apple’s leadership. At first, Apple survived without him. But over time, the company began to lose its innovative edge. Roughly a decade later, Apple was nearing collapse and desperately trying to rediscover its identity. In one of the greatest comeback stories in business history, Apple rehired Jobs as CEO, and the company was completely transformed.
 
That pattern is common. A visionary leader leaves, and eventually the movement loses momentum.
 
Which makes Christianity so strange.
 
Around 2,000 years ago, Jesus ascended into heaven, leaving behind a small group of ordinary followers with no political power, no wealth, and no influence. Most people probably assumed the movement would slowly disappear.
 
Instead, it exploded across the world.
 
Why?
 
Because Jesus didn’t abandon His mission when He ascended. Unlike Steve Jobs leaving Apple, Jesus never stopped leading His church. He still rules, reigns, and works through His people today. When Jesus sent the church into the world, he didn’t send us alone, he sent us with his Spirit and his power.
 
That’s why the church is unstoppable.
This Sunday we’re launching a brand-new 10-week series through the book of Acts called The Church Unstoppable. Together we’ll discover how the risen Jesus continued His mission through ordinary people empowered by the Holy Spirit, and how He’s still doing it today.
 
Plus, you won’t want to miss our Mother’s Day celebration and baby dedication. See you Sunday!

This week I was struck by an interview I watched with former Nebraska senator Ben Sasse. Ben Sasse was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer in December. He likely has only weeks or months to live. In these final days, he has done some heart-wrenching and inspiring interviews. Recently, Scott Pelley from 60 Minutes sat down with him and discussed politics, family, faith, and his diagnosis.

Toward the end of the interview, Scott asked Ben about his Christian faith. You might assume that a man with a family and so much potential would be angry at God about a diagnosis like this. But his answers were stunning.

He said he’s “super bummed” that he won’t be around for his family—but he also said they’ll be okay without him. In his words, they’re “rockstars.” Then Scott asked, “But it’s not a surprise to God? And God, you believe, has a plan?” Ben responded, profoundly and without hesitation, “Absolutely. There are no maverick molecules in the universe.”

How can Ben Sasse have that kind of unwavering faith and courage in the face of his approaching death? Because he knows this isn’t the end. At the risk of putting it too lightly, this is just a bump in the road. Cancer may be his reality today, but his future is resurrection.

For me, it was another powerful reminder of how central the resurrection is to the Christian life.

This Sunday, we’re closing out our series on the resurrection by looking at the end of time and our future bodily resurrection. We’ll see three powerful ways from the book of Daniel how it gives us hope in life’s darkest days.

A few years ago, Allie and I took a trip to San Francisco. While we didn’t make it to Alcatraz itself, we did go to the gift shop! They had some real cute stuffed bears in prison clothes.

Built in the 1930s, Alcatraz was surrounded by frigid water and strong currents, and it was marketed as an inescapable prison. For decades, it lived up to that reputation. Dozens of prisoners tried to escape, and every one of them was either caught or died trying.

But in 1962, three men, Frank Morris and brothers John and Clarence Anglin, attempted the impossible.

For nearly a year, they schemed. Using spoons, they dug tunnels through the concrete walls of their cells, hiding the holes with painted cardboard and masking the noise with music. But escaping their cells was only half the battle. The real problem was the bay. No one had ever made it across.

So they improvised. They stitched together more than fifty raincoats into a makeshift raft. On June 11, 1962, they escaped and disappeared into the darkness. The guards didn’t realize until the next morning because they had, get this, made dummy heads and placed them in their beds to delay detection.

To this day, no one really knows what happened. Some believe they drowned, but family members insist they made it (And The Myth Busters proved their escape was plausible). Honestly, we may never really know. But we’re drawn to stories where someone escapes the unescapable.

Christianity makes a far greater claim. It says that Jesus Christ walked out of the one prison no one can escape: death.

Colossians 3 takes it even further: “You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” The claim is that if you belong to Christ, his story becomes your story!

This week, we’ll look at what that means. Not just that Jesus rose, but what it looks like to start living the escape story Jesus died and rose to give you.