Over the past several months, we’ve walked through the Old Testament—not as a collection of moral tales or distant history, but as a living, unified story pointing toward a singular hope. In our new “First Gospel” series, we considered how, woven through the warnings of prophets and the failures of kings, God was preparing a different kind of answer: not simply a fresh set of rules, but a person. Isaiah’s vision isn’t just about a future king or an ethical teacher, but about the astonishing promise of a suffering servant—one who would not shout or crush, but who would bear our brokenness and, through compassion, change everything. This is the gospel according to Isaiah: cycles of striving give way to grace, and the world begins anew with a quiet, gentle hope.

This week, as we near the end of our Old Testament journey, we find ourselves in Isaiah 6, the year when King Uzziah died—a moment marked by grief, instability, and fear. It’s here, in the shadow of loss, that Isaiah encounters the living God. His vision in the temple is not merely a scene of awe and trembling, but a profound lesson in transformation: when the ground shifts beneath us, our illusions of control are shattered, and the horizons of our souls expand. “Holy, holy, holy,” the angels cry—and Isaiah is undone, only to be remade by grace. This is how God shows up.

It’s a story that feels both ancient and strikingly current: a nation in crisis, its people divided by idolatry, distraction, and the slow drift from what once made them whole. In this week’s sermon, we journeyed through the reign of Josiah—an unlikely, young reformer who, at sixteen, resolved to seek God with his whole heart. In a world that prizes busyness and noise, Josiah’s determination to clear away the idols and restore worship offers both challenge and hope. His efforts were monumental, heroic even, but ultimately not enough. The story points us, inexorably, toward the One who can transform hearts.

It’s been nearly seven months since we began our journey through the “First Gospel,” our name for the Old Testament—a title meant to remind us that God’s goodness did not begin with the arrival of Jesus, but has always been since before the dawn of creation. Along the way, we’ve traded isolated stories for a richer tapestry: a single narrative of faithfulness, frailty, and relentless grace. This week, we reached Mount Carmel, where Elijah challenged the idols competing for Israel’s affection. The question hangs in the air still: will we keep limping back and forth, or let our hearts be fully captivated by the grace of God?

In this week’s sermon, we took a step away from the noise and crowds of the “city gates” to sit with the voice of Wisdom in Proverbs 8. We found Wisdom—not as misty abstraction, but a living invitation—calling out above the everyday scramble, promising more than just good advice: a life ordered by knowledge, prudence, justice, and discretion, and shaped by the creative rhythms God wove into the world from the beginning.

To seek wisdom, we must turn aside, listen daily, and receive what God freely offers—ultimately, meeting Wisdom face-to-face in Jesus himself. There is no treasure greater.

It’s been several months since we began tracing the story of God’s goodness from creation through Israel’s history, so perhaps a brief pause for perspective is due. Having explored the rise and fall of kings and the pursuit of wisdom, we now find ourselves at the doorstep of the book of Job—the Bible’s most honest wrestling with the problem of suffering. Here, easy answers crumble. Job’s endurance exposes our tendency to seek formulas for comfort, yet God responds not with solutions but with His presence. The question remains: can God Himself be enough for us, even in pain? We’ll unpack this together.

Psalm 139 stands among the most intimate, vulnerable prayers in all of scripture—an invitation to dwell in the breathtaking reality that we are fully known, fully seen, and fully loved by God. In a world of ceaseless stimulation and performance, this psalm calls us back to a deeper ground: our identity rooted in sacred origin, not public image. Before achievement or failure, before striving or proving, you are—fearfully and wonderfully made, held, and led home.

For the past several weeks, we’ve been discovering the goodness of God on every page of the Old Testament, but this week, we paused with David in Psalm 19 to consider something both breathtaking and intimate. The psalmist is struck by the enormity of creation—“the heavens declare the glory of God”—but even more so by the God who draws near, speaking not only through stars but in whispers and words, reaching directly into our lives. Here, awe is not just a feeling; it’s an invitation. What does it mean for such a God to long for relationship with us? Let’s explore together.

Feeling confident in God on Sunday but struggling by Monday morning? In this week’s message on Psalm 27, Pastor Josh Harrison reminds us that true fearlessness comes from making God our “one thing” above all else. Whether we’re on the mountaintop or deep in the valley, authentic worship is both awe and action—gazing on His beauty and seeking His face. Even when life gets hard, God’s presence is our anchor. Wait for the Lord. Be strong, take heart, and know you will see His goodness in the land of the living!

What does it mean to worship when life feels dry, difficult, or disorienting? In this week's sermon on Psalm 63, we unpack how David teaches us to show up, remember God’s faithfulness, and cling to Him—even in the wilderness. Worship isn’t just for the mountaintop moments; it’s an act of faith when we offer God our brokenness, exhaustion, and longing. Whether you feel close to God or far away, you can still choose worship. Let this encourage you to keep showing up, hold on to hope, and find God’s presence in every season.

God is faithful—even in our exhaustion and brokenness. This week, Pastor Sheridan McDaniel walked us through 1 Samuel 30, where David’s men lost everything, wept till they had no strength, and yet found hope by turning to God. Sometimes, the battle gets tough and some can’t go on. But God’s victory is for everyone—those on the frontlines and those too weary to fight. No matter our role, God restores, redeems, and makes all things whole. Trust His process, remember His goodness, and know that, together, we recover all.

David was called a man after God’s own heart, yet his story is one of sin, brokenness, and redemption. From adultery and cover-ups to repentance and restoration, we see how even our worst moments can’t separate us from God’s love when we turn back to Him. Sin often starts small, building until it feels unstoppable—but grace meets us when we own up and realign our hearts. If you’re struggling, know this: God is merciful and always ready to restore us. Let’s seek Him with honest hearts and trust that His love can redeem every story.

This week’s message dives into the story of Saul, the first king of Israel, and the danger of living for people’s approval instead of God’s calling. When we put pleasing others above obedience to God, we miss out on His best for us—just like Saul. True transformation comes from humble obedience, not outward appearances or sacrifices. Jesus shows us the better way: humility, trust, and surrender to God’s will. Let’s ask God to reveal our blind spots and give us the courage to follow Him wholeheartedly.