Before God moves the Church, He moves hearts. To experience God’s purposes, we must first let go of the lie that we can be in total control of our outcomes, that a tight grip on our lives can keep us safe and self-determined. Our God is a generous God, and calls us into a life of generosity by opening our hands, trading that which is temporary for that which will endure, so that we can live the life God has designed us for. When we open our hands in generosity, we don’t lose our lives; our hands are freed to take hold of the real thing. Generosity is God’s love in you, calling us to stop defending and protecting our lives, and to start living them.

How we understand the Bible comes from how we understand Jesus. Just as Jesus was fully human and fully God, so the Bible is a fully human and fully divine book. Through the Holy Spirit, the Bible serves as a means of recognizing the risen Christ much like the disciples on the Emmaus road. And when we do, our hearts are set ablaze. May we fall in love with the Bible—a people eager to wrestle, weep, question, and feast on the sacred page. When we approach the Word with open hands and burning hearts, the Spirit breathes life into dry places and equips us to participate in Christ’s redemptive work right here in our community.

The same creative Word that spoke the universe into being is actively shaping our lives. Jesus calls this “sanctification.” True sanctification isn't about mere moral self-improvement; it is God’s lifelong work of remaking us from the inside out as we are changed by His Word. Through the Scriptures, we hear, “You are welcome. You are forgiven. You are new. You make a difference,” and those words change lives. As we engage with Scripture with open hands and expectant hearts, we can trust the Word to sanctify you and make all things new, starting right within your soul.

The Bible can sometimes feel complicated, intimidating, or even confusing—but at its heart is a story that leads us to Jesus. Scripture tells the story of a God who creates, rescues, promises, and ultimately comes to us in Christ, the center of the whole story. We don’t have to master every page; we can simply open our hearts and ask, “Where is this story taking me?” As we listen to Scripture, we listen for Christ—and his story has the power to reshape the stories we tell about ourselves and the lives we live.

For all our talk of "home," we are so often somewhere else—turning over the past, fretting about the future—that we miss the life God has given us right now. But Christ is found in the present tense. Because Christ has died, was raised, and now lives in eternity, it is always “now” with Christ. We can’t be with Christ in the past or the future; we can only know his light in the present. Like a tree bending toward the light, abiding in Christ calls us to sit down in this moment with him—to become present to God, to our lives, and to the people right in front of us.

Following Christ does not always make life bigger, easier, or more impressive—it makes life deeper. In Christ, every action, every word carries spiritual impact. The Killers’ “The Getting By” reminds us that sometimes the holy work is simply getting up, putting another day in, and trusting that God is still holding us. Pay attention to the everyday places, people, and responsibilities around you, because God has filled this life with eternal significance. So live quietly, love your neighbors, do the work before you, and stand on the goodness of God.

God’s love meets us in our darkest places, but true discipleship begins when we answer Christ's call to step out of the shadows and into transformative new life. Walking out of the tomb means having the courage to declare, "I'll know my name as its called again," slowly shedding our old fears, chains, and habits, and living into our identity in Christ. Though leaving the familiar darkness is uncomfortable, it is a lifelong journey of walking toward the light of truth. Take that step of faith today, trusting the Shepherd who calls you out by name and guides you into the person you were made to be.

Our hearts are restless until they rest in God, and yet in the midst of pain, disappointment, and longing, we often wonder where God has been. The good news is that the story of faith is not simply that we go searching for God, but that God finds us—seeing us in our deepest cries, questions, and longings. And perhaps coming home means discovering that the God we thought we were trying to find had been looking for us all along.