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Plymouth Church of Christ
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  1. 3d ago

    Dying to Live

    ‘DYING TO LIVE’ Upside-Down Kingdom — Week 2 - Mark 8:34–36 OPENING PRAYER Father, some of us are holding on so tightly. We’re holding onto our plans, our security, our reputation, our comfort, our control. We’re trying to protect the lives we’ve built, and sometimes we’re exhausted from trying to keep everything together. So help us hear the words of Jesus this morning. Help us hear an invitation that sounds like death, but actually leads to life. Give us the courage to loosen our grip, to trust You, and to follow Jesus wherever He leads. In Jesus’ name, Amen. INTRODUCTION There is something instinctive in every one of us that says: Save yourself. Protect yourself. Look out for yourself. Build a good life. Protect what you’ve built. Make yourself secure. Avoid unnecessary suffering. Hold onto the people and things that matter to you. And honestly, a lot of that sounds like common sense. Nobody wakes up in the morning thinking, How can I lose my life today? We spend our lives trying to preserve it. We buy insurance for the things we’re afraid of losing. We save money because we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We protect our reputation because we care what people think about us. We make plans because uncertainty makes us uncomfortable. We try to stay healthy because we know these bodies don't last forever. We build lives—and then we spend enormous amounts of energy trying to keep those lives from falling apart. And then Jesus comes along and says something that turns all of that upside down. “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it.” And then Jesus asks one of the most haunting questions in all of Scripture: “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and forfeit his soul?” You can almost hear Jesus asking: What exactly are you trying so hard to save? Because you can spend your entire life trying to save your life...and lose it. And you can surrender your entire life to Jesus...and finally find it. That is the paradox of the Upside-Down Kingdom. You have to die... to live. THE ROAD TO THE CROSS But to really understand what Jesus is saying, we need to back up a few verses. Because Jesus doesn't just walk up to the disciples one afternoon and randomly start talking about crosses. Something has happened. Earlier in Mark 8, Jesus asks His disciples: “Who do people say that I am?” They give Him some answers. John the Baptist. Elijah. One of the prophets. But then Jesus makes the question personal: “But who do you say that I am?” And Peter gets it right. “You are the Christ.” This is the moment. Peter understands who Jesus is. He is the Messiah. He is the King. He is the One Israel has been waiting for. But Peter is about to discover something: He knows who Jesus is, but he doesn't yet understand what kind of Messiah Jesus is. Because immediately after Peter's confession, Jesus begins explaining what is going to happen. Mark tells us: “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” And Peter doesn't like this. In fact, Peter pulls Jesus aside and rebukes Him. Think about that. Peter has just said, “You are the Christ.” And a moment later he's essentially saying: But Jesus, that's not how this is supposed to go. Messiahs don't lose. Messiahs don't suffer. Messiahs don't get rejected. Messiahs don't die. Peter wants the kingdom. He just doesn't want the cross. And I wonder how often we want the same thing. We want Jesus. We want salvation. We want forgiveness. We want peace. We want eternal life. We want the kingdom. But we'd really prefer not to have the cross. So Jesus turns to Peter and says: “Get behind Me, Satan; for you are not setting your mind on God’s interests, but man’s.” That's strong language. Because Peter is thinking the way the world thinks. Win. Protect yourself. Avoid suffering. Preserve your life. And Jesus says: That's not how My Kingdom works. And then Jesus calls the crowd together with His disciples. And now the words make sense: “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me.” Do you see it? Jesus isn't asking His disciples to walk a road He refuses to walk Himself. Jesus goes first. Before He tells us to take up our cross, He has already set His face toward His own. Before He asks us to surrender our lives, He has already determined to surrender His. Before He tells us that life comes through death, He is preparing to demonstrate it through His own death and resurrection. The road of discipleship follows the road of Jesus. And that road leads through the cross. TAKE UP YOUR CROSS We've heard the phrase “take up your cross” so many times that it can lose its force. Sometimes we use “my cross to bear” to describe almost any inconvenience. A difficult coworker. A bad back. An annoying relative. Something in life we wish were different. But that's not what the people listening to Jesus would have pictured. When Jesus said cross, they knew exactly what He meant. A cross was an instrument of Roman execution. If you saw someone carrying a cross, that person wasn't heading toward inconvenience. He wasn't heading toward personal improvement. He wasn't heading toward a difficult season. He was heading toward death. The condemned man carrying his cross had lost his claim over his own future. And Jesus takes that horrifying image and says: That's what following Me looks like. Deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow Me. In other words: Your life doesn't belong to you anymore. And that may be one of the hardest truths in Christianity. Because everything around us says the opposite. It's your life. Follow your dreams. Speak your truth. Do what makes you happy. Become whoever you want to be. Put yourself first. And Jesus says: Deny yourself. Now, let’s not get confused. That doesn't mean hating yourself. It doesn't mean believing you have no value. It doesn't mean neglecting legitimate needs or allowing other people to abuse you. It means something much more fundamental, it means… I am no longer the lord of my own life. Jesus is. My life is His. My money is His. My time is His. My body is His. My gifts are His. My future is His. My plans are His. My reputation is His. My comfort is His. Everything I am belongs to Christ. That's discipleship. THE LIFE WE'RE TRYING TO SAVE And this is where Jesus' next words become uncomfortable. “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it.” Because most of us are trying to save something. Maybe you're trying to save your reputation. You need people to think well of you. So you manage how people see you. You hide weakness. You avoid vulnerability. You don't admit when you're wrong. And eventually your reputation becomes a prison. Maybe you're trying to save your security. You need to know there's enough. Enough money. Enough savings. Enough certainty. Enough control over tomorrow. And prudence is good—but somewhere along the way, prudence can become fear. And fear begins making your decisions. Maybe you're trying to save your comfort. You don't want life disrupted. You don't want difficult conversations. You don't want costly obedience. You don't want to serve when it's inconvenient. And slowly comfort becomes more important than faithfulness. Maybe you're trying to save your independence. You don't want to need anybody. You certainly don't want anyone seeing you struggle. So you carry everything yourself. You refuse help. You keep people at a safe distance. And what you call independence eventually becomes isolation. Maybe you're trying to save your plans. You know how your life is supposed to go. You know what your career should look like. You know what your family should look like. You know how the next five or ten years are supposed to unfold. And then life doesn't cooperate. And suddenly you discover how tightly you were holding the blueprint. We all hold onto something. And here's the problem: The tighter you hold it, the more it begins to hold you. That's what Jesus understands. “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it.” The life spent desperately protecting itself eventually becomes a life controlled by fear. Fear of losing money. Fear of losing status. Fear of losing health. Fear of losing relationships. Fear of losing control. Fear of losing life itself. And Jesus offers another way. LOSING YOUR LIFE “But whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it.” Notice something important. Jesus doesn't simply say: Lose your life. There is nothing inherently Christian about loss. There is nothing inherently holy about suffering. And Jesus isn't telling us to become reckless or self-destructive. He says: “Whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it.” That's the center of the whole thing. Jesus. Christian self-denial isn't about becoming less of a person. It's about surrendering ownership of our lives to Christ. It's saying: Jesus, You get to decide. You get my yes before I even know what You're asking. If obedience costs me comfort, I follow You. If obedience costs me popularity, I follow You. If obedience costs me money, I follow You. If obedience means forgiving someone I'd rather resent, I follow You. If obedience means serving someone who can never repay me, I follow You. If obedience means admitting I was wrong, I

  2. Aug 2

    Weakness is Strength

    “WEAKNESS IS STRENGTH” Upside-Down Kingdom Week 1 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 INTRODUCTION We start with weakness because it’s where most of us are. If you’re honest, there’s something you feel inadequate about. Something you wish you were better at. Something you’ve tried to fix or hide or overcome, and it’s still there. Maybe you struggle with anxiety. Maybe you’re not as smart as you wish you were. Maybe you don’t have the body you want. Maybe you battle depression. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you feel like you’re failing at parenting or marriage or work. And you feel weak about it. In our culture, weakness is shameful. We’re taught to hide it, overcome it, we try to medicate it. We put on a brave face. We project confidence we don’t feel. We work harder to compensate for what we lack. But Paul teaches something radically different. He says his weakness was the entrance point for God’s power. “I am most content with weakness, with insults, with hardships, with persecutions, with difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10). This is the Upside-Down Kingdom. Weakness is strength. THE CONTEXT: PAUL’S THORN To understand this passage, we need the context. Paul had an experience—an encounter with God that was so profound, so overwhelming, that he couldn’t even talk about it directly. He mentions it in verses 2-4. “I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven…I know that this man was caught up to paradise” (verses 2-3). He’s talking about himself, but using third person, like it was so incredible he can barely reference it. Maybe he was hesitant to brag. Maybe it was so sacred he could only speak about it indirectly. And then: “Because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, for this reason, to keep me from exalting myself, there was given me a thorn in the flesh” (verse 7). Notice that phrase: “to keep me from exalting myself.” God gave Paul a weakness specifically to prevent pride. Specifically to remind him that he was not self-sufficient. That he was dependent. That all his power came from God, not from himself. A thorn. A weakness. Something painful. Something constant. Something Paul couldn’t escape. We don’t know exactly what it was. Throughout history, people have speculated: physical illness, chronic pain, spiritual attack, a limitation Paul felt deeply. Some scholars think it was vision problems. Some think it was physical ailment. Some think it was emotional or psychological. But Paul doesn’t specify. And maybe that’s intentional. Because we all have thorns. We all have something we can’t seem to get past. Something that humbles us. Something that reminds us we’re not in control. THE PRAYER: ASKING FOR REMOVAL Here’s what Paul did: “Concerning this I implored the Lord three times that it might leave me” (verse 8). He prayed. He asked God to remove it. Three times. Which suggests he wasn’t praying casually. He was earnest. Desperate. “God, please take this away. Please remove this thorn. I can’t function at my best with this limitation. I can’t do my ministry effectively. Please.” Do you know that prayer? Have you prayed it? Lord, remove this anxiety. Remove this pain. Remove this inadequacy. Remove this struggle. I can’t do my best work with this. I can’t be the person I’m supposed to be with this. It’s a legitimate prayer. It’s honest. It’s something most of us have brought to God at some point. And then comes the answer. And the answer might surprise you, might disappoint you, or might transform you. THE ANSWER: “MY GRACE IS SUFFICIENT” Verse 9: “He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’” Not “I’ll remove the thorn.” Not “Don’t worry, you won’t even notice it after a while.” Not “Be strong and overcome this.” But “My grace is sufficient for you.” There’s a massive difference between these responses. One response says, “I’ll fix your problem so you don’t have to experience it.” The other says, “I’ll give you what you need to walk through it.” God didn’t remove Paul’s limitation. But He gave Paul something more valuable: access to divine grace. Access to a power that doesn’t depend on Paul’s strength, but on God’s. And here’s the key: “Power is perfected in weakness.” Not “power despite weakness.” Not “power if you overcome weakness.” But “power is perfected in weakness.” Meaning: weakness is the very condition in which power is most fully realized. The weakness itself becomes the vehicle for power. This is counterintuitive. This is the Upside-Down Kingdom. THE REVELATION: HOW WEAKNESS BECOMES STRENGTH Here’s how this works practically. This is crucial to understand. When you’re strong, when you have it all figured out, when you don’t need help, when you’re self-sufficient and confident, you’re inclined to trust yourself. You believe in your own capability. You lean on your own understanding. You solve your own problems. You push through on your own power. And you never experience the need for God’s power. You never access it. Because you never hit the limit where you have to. But when you’re weak, when you’ve exhausted your own resources, when you can’t do it on your own, when you’ve tried everything and nothing works, you’re forced to trust something beyond yourself. You have to. You have no choice. And that’s when God’s power becomes available to you. Not because God wasn’t available before. But because you weren’t available to receive it. Your strength was in the way. I think of a man I know who built a successful career on his own strength. Self-made. Driven. Ambitious. Confident in his own ability. He worked eighty-hour and ninety-hour weeks. He achieved everything he set out to achieve. And by all external measures, he succeeded. And yet, he was miserable. No peace. Constant stress. Anxiety about maintaining it all. Empty victories. Success that tasted like ashes. Then his body gave out. Burnout. Panic attacks. Insomnia. His strength failed him. And he couldn’t fix it. Meditation didn’t work. Exercise didn’t work. Pushing harder didn’t work. Because the problem wasn’t something he could solve through willpower. So in desperation, he stopped trying. He stopped fighting. He admitted: “I can’t do this on my own.” And in that admission, something shifted. He got therapy. He started taking medication. He asked for help. He learned to rest. He learned to pray not from obligation, but from desperation. He learned to say “I don’t know” and “I can’t handle this” and “I need help.” And in that weakness, he found something he’d never had in his strength: peace. Real connection with God. Authentic faith. Deep dependence. Unshakeable stability. His weakness became the doorway to his deepest strength. APPLICATION: YOUR THORN IS AN INVITATION So here’s the question for you: What’s your thorn? What’s the limitation you wish you didn’t have? The struggle you keep trying to overcome? The weakness that embarrasses you or frustrates you or keeps you up at night? Maybe it’s something internal: anxiety, depression, loneliness, self-doubt. Maybe it’s something external: illness, disability, chronic pain, something you can’t change. Maybe it’s something relational: conflict you can’t resolve, someone you love who won’t come back, a relationship that’s broken. Maybe it’s something about yourself: your appearance, your intelligence, your talent level, your capacity. Whatever it is, you’ve probably tried to overcome it. You’ve worked on it. You’ve fought it. You’ve prayed about it. And it’s still there. And here’s what Paul is telling you: That thorn might be an invitation. Not an invitation to give up. Not an invitation to stop trying to grow or to accept harmful situations. But an invitation to stop relying on your own strength and start relying on God’s. Because here’s what’s true: You were never designed to be strong enough on your own. None of us were. Our culture tells us we should be. Be self-sufficient. Be independent. Be strong. Take care of yourself. Don’t burden others. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. If you’re struggling, it’s because you’re not trying hard enough. But Jesus never taught that. Jesus said, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Weary. Heavy-laden. Weak. Tired. Burnt out. Those are the people Jesus invites. Not the strong. Not the self-sufficient. But the weak. And when we finally accept that invitation, when we finally admit we can’t do this on our own, when we finally stop pretending and start being honest about our limits, something shifts. We stop performing. We stop pretending. We stop trying to be strong enough. And we discover that God’s grace really is sufficient. It really is enough. More than enough. THE PRACTICE: NAMING YOUR WEAKNESS So practically, what do we do with this? First: Name your weakness honestly. Don’t hide it. Don’t minimize it. Don’t pretend it’s not there. “My anxiety is real. My loneliness is real. My inadequacy is real. My pain is real. My struggle is real.” Naming it is the first step to surrendering it. Second: Stop trying to overcome it through sheer willpower alone. You’ve probably tried that. If willpower could have fixed it, it would be fixed by now. So stop. Admit that your strength isn’t enough. Third: Bring it to God. Really bring it. Not in a formal, churchy way. But honestly. “Lord, I’m weak here. I don’t have the strength for this. I’ve tried and I’ve failed. But Your grace is sufficient. Your power is perfected in my weak

  3. Jul 26

    When You Long for God: A Psalm of Desire

    “When You Long for God: A Psalm of Desire” Psalm 63 Week 4 of “Summer Psalms: Ancient Songs for Modern Hearts” We’ve spent three weeks exploring Psalms that meet us in crisis, in waiting, in uncertainty. This final week, we explore something different: longing. Not crisis. Not waiting. But a deep ache for God’s presence. A spiritual thirst. A heart that says, “I need more of God than I currently have.” Summer is a season when we can feel this. Slower pace. Time to think. Time to notice what we’re missing. Time to feel the gap between who we are and who we’re called to be. Some of you know this feeling. You remember when your faith was alive. When prayer felt real. When God felt close. And somewhere along the way, it faded. And now you’re feeling the absence. You’re longing for what you’ve lost. This is when you need Psalm 63. David wrote this psalm in a wilderness season—literally fleeing for his life, camping in desert places. And in that wilderness, in that loneliness, something awakened in him. A desperate hunger for God. A longing for God’s presence that was stronger than his physical need for food or water. “O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1). That’s the heart cry of this psalm. Not need. Longing. THE PSALM: LISTEN TO DAVID’S DESIRE FOR GOD Psalm 63:1-2, “O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Thus I have beheld You in the sanctuary, to see Your power and Your glory.” Notice the language. “My soul thirsts.” “My flesh yearns.” This is not intellectual. This is visceral. David’s entire being—soul and body—is reaching for God. Then verse 3: “Because Your lovingkindness is better than life, I will praise You.” This is the central declaration of the psalm. God’s lovingkindness is better than life itself. Better than comfort. Better than security. Better than anything else. Then verses 5-8: “My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth offers praises with joyful lips. When I remember You on my bed, I meditate on You in the night watches. Because You have been my help, and in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me.” David is in the wilderness. Physically uncomfortable. Possibly hungry. But spiritually satisfied. His longing for God has been met, and that meeting satisfies more than food could satisfy. THE REALITY: SPIRITUAL THIRST AND THE WILDERNESS Here’s what most of us don’t talk about: Many of us have drifted from real faith into routine faith. We still go to church. We still pray (maybe). We still believe (sort of). But there’s no fire. No longing. No passionate seeking. We’ve settled for less than what’s available. Maybe it happened gradually. Life got busy. Kids. Work. Responsibilities. Mortgage. The grind. And somewhere between the busyness, the intimacy with God faded. Prayer became obligation instead of conversation. Worship became routine instead of real. We show up, we go through the motions, we leave feeling like we’ve checked a box. Or maybe it happened because we’ve experienced disappointment. We prayed and God didn’t answer the way we wanted. We trusted and felt let down. We gave our whole heart and got hurt. And now, to protect ourselves, we’ve backed away. We keep our distance. We believe in God intellectually, but we don’t long for God emotionally. We’ve built walls. Or maybe we’ve just gotten comfortable. Our faith became comfortable. Manageable. Safe. And somewhere along the way, we forgot what it felt like to actually hunger for God. To want Him like we want food and water. To seek Him like a person lost in the desert seeks water. But Psalm 63 invites us to something different: passionate faith. Living faith. The kind that says, “My soul thirsts for You. My flesh yearns for You.” And here’s the beautiful part: this longing often awakens in the wilderness. Not in comfort, but in hard places. In loneliness. In disappointment. In seasons that strip away the comfortable surface and show us what we really need. I think of a woman I know who grew up in the faith. Church every Sunday. Youth group. Christian college. The whole package. But somewhere along the way, it all became mechanical. Prayer was something she did in the morning because it was routine. Worship was something that happened on Sunday because that’s what you do. Scripture reading was a check mark on a discipline list. But there was no fire. No joy. No longing. Then one season, she got honest with God. “I don’t feel anything,” she said in prayer. “I’ve lost my passion. I’ve lost my longing for You. What happened to me?” And instead of pretending everything was fine, instead of beating herself up, she started seeking. Real seeking. She read Scripture differently—not to check a box, but asking God to speak. She prayed differently—out loud, honest, raw. She started going on prayer walks. She joined a small group where she could be real about her struggle. And gradually—not all at once, but gradually—that longing came back. Not because her circumstances changed. Not because a crisis forced her to seek. But because she stopped settling for routine and started pursuing real intimacy. APPLICATION: THE WILDERNESS AWAKENS LONGING One reason Psalm 63 is so powerful is that David wrote it in the wilderness—in hard circumstances. Not in comfort, but in the dry and weary place. And in the wilderness, something awakened. His longing for God. The text says, “my soul thirsts for You; my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” The wilderness wasn’t a detour from his spiritual journey. It was the place where his spiritual passion was rekindled. Sometimes we need the wilderness to wake us up. Not the crisis that demands rescue. Not the waiting that teaches patience. But the loneliness that makes us realize what we’re missing. The wilderness that shows us how thirsty we actually are. C.S. Lewis wrote about this. He talked about “the sweet poison of false security.” When life is comfortable, when everything is fine, when we have enough security and enough entertainment and enough success, we stop seeking God desperately. We’re satisfied with the surface. We’re content with routine. But when comfort is stripped away, when we’re alone in the wilderness, when the things we thought satisfied us don’t, the real longing surfaces. And that’s actually a gift. Your dissatisfaction might not be a sign that something’s wrong with you. It might be the Holy Spirit beckoning you back. It might be the beginning of a deeper journey into intimacy with God. THE DISCIPLINE: PURSUING GOD DELIBERATELY Notice what David does in the wilderness. He doesn’t just experience longing passively. He pursues it actively. He doesn’t wait for God to force intimacy. He reaches out. “Thus I have beheld You in the sanctuary, to see Your power and Your glory” (verse 2). He’s remembering encounters with God. He’s meditating on God’s presence and power. He’s calling to mind the times when he experienced God’s character firsthand. In the middle of the desert, he’s remembering what God looked like in the sanctuary. “When I remember You on my bed, I meditate on You in the night watches” (verse 6). He’s being intentional. In the quiet hours when he can’t sleep—and you know, if you’re camping in the desert and your enemies are hunting you, you’re not sleeping well—he’s choosing to think about God. To remember. To meditate. To rehearse God’s faithfulness and character. Have you ever woken in the middle of the night, your mind overcome with the burden of worry or anxiety? I have, I have been there many times myself. What to do? Where to turn? “I meditate on You in the night watches.” “My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me” (verse 8). He’s clinging. Holding tight. Desperately grasping. Not distantly believing, but closely holding. Not going through the motions, but actively, physically, emotionally clinging. This is the practice. Deliberately seeking. Meditating. Remembering. Clinging. It’s work. It’s intentional. It’s not passive. In our comfortable lives, we can drift without noticing. Without intention. We wake up one day and realize the fire is gone. But if we want to recover a passionate faith, if we want to feel that longing again, we have to be deliberate. We can’t expect it to happen to us. We have to cultivate it. We have to carve out time. Time to pray without an agenda. Time to read Scripture not looking for a quick answer, but wanting to know God. Time to worship not because it’s Sunday, but because we’re hungry. Time to sit in silence and just be present to God. We have to remember. Deliberately recall the times when you knew God was real. Meditate on God’s past faithfulness. Let memories of encounter stir your heart. We have to confess our drift. Get honest. “I’ve settled for routine. I’ve kept my distance. I want more. I want to long for You like David longed for You.” And we have to persist. Because recovering spiritual passion isn’t always immediate. It takes time. It takes practice. But it’s worth it. THE INVITATION: TASTE AND SEE Here’s the profound promise at the end of Psalm 63: “My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness” (verse 5). David’s thirst has been satisfied. His longing has been met. And the satisfaction is complete. “Better than life,” he says about God’s lovingkindness. And that’s the invitation Psalm 63 extends to you: Taste this. Experience real intimacy with God. Let your longin

  4. Jul 19

    When You Need Direction: A Psalm of Guidance

    Last week we explored "waiting without answers." This week we're looking at a different kind of uncertainty: not knowing which way to go. Summer is often a season of transition. Decisions need to be made. Some of you are facing big questions: Should I take this job? Should I move? Should I change directions? Should I stay where I am? How do I care for my aging parents? How do I prepare for retirement? You're praying. You're seeking direction. You're hoping God will make the path clear. Unlike last week's message, this uncertainty involves choice. You're not just waiting for something to happen; you're trying to discern what you should do. And that's its own kind of burden. Every decision opens some doors and closes others, and you want to choose wisely. One of the greatest explorers in history understood what it was like to need direction. In 1914, Sir Ernest Shackleton's ship, Endurance, became trapped and crushed by Antarctic ice, leaving his crew stranded in one of the harshest places on earth. Months later, Shackleton and five companions climbed into a 22-foot lifeboat and set out on an astonishing 800-mile voyage across the Southern Ocean to bring rescue to the rest of the crew. Their survival depended on the navigator, Frank Worsley. There was no GPS, no radar, no electronic navigation. Most days the sky was completely overcast. But whenever the clouds parted—even for a few seconds—Worsley would quickly take a reading of the sun and determine their course. Those brief glimpses of light kept them from drifting hundreds of miles off course. He didn't need sunlight all day. He just needed enough light for the next bearing. I think that's where many of us live. We wish God would hand us a detailed roadmap for the next ten years. Instead, He often gives us enough light for the next faithful step. That's exactly where David finds himself in Psalm 25. David wrote this psalm when he was lost—spiritually, emotionally, and practically. He needed direction, and he brought that need to God in prayer: "Show me Your ways, LORD, teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; for You I wait all the day long." (Psalm 25:4–5) Notice what David asks for. He doesn't ask for a map. He asks for a Guide. And that's one of the great lessons of this psalm. Seeking God's direction is not primarily about getting an immediate answer. It's about becoming the kind of person who trusts God enough to follow Him, even when the whole path isn't yet visible. Today we'll discover that God's guidance is less about revealing every step ahead and more about walking closely with the Shepherd who already knows the way. THE PSALM: LISTEN TO DAVID’S PRAYER FOR GUIDANCE Psalm 25:1-5, “To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in You; do not let me be ashamed; do not let my enemies exult over me. Indeed, none of those who wait for You will be ashamed; those who deal treacherously without cause will be ashamed. Make known to me Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; for You I wait all the day long.” Notice the movement. David starts by lifting his soul to God. He’s not trying to figure this out alone. He’s bringing his confusion to God. Then he makes a declaration: “I trust in You.” Not “I feel like I trust You.” But “I choose to trust You.” Then comes the request: “Make known to me Your ways. Teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth.” He’s asking for guidance. But notice—he’s also asking to be taught. He’s asking to understand, not just to know the right move. Then verse 8-10: “Good and upright is the Lord; therefore He instructs sinners in the way. He leads the humble in justice, and He teaches the humble His way. All the paths of the Lord are lovingkindness and truth, to those who keep His covenant and His testimonies.” David is reminding himself of something true: God is good. God wants to guide us. God leads the humble. THE CHALLENGE: THE PATH ISN’T ALWAYS CLEAR Here’s the reality that no one talks about: Sometimes God makes the path crystal clear. A door opens. An opportunity presents itself. The answer is obvious. But sometimes—and maybe more often than not—God doesn’t make the path completely clear. You’re standing at a crossroads. Both directions seem possible. Both have merit. One has security but less meaning. One has meaning but more risk. You’re praying. You’re seeking. And the answer still isn’t obvious. Both feel right and wrong at the same time. And that’s when doubt creeps in. You find yourself thinking: If God really wanted to guide me, wouldn’t He make it obvious? If He cared about this decision, wouldn’t He remove all the uncertainty? But that’s not how God usually works. Psalm 25 teaches something different. It teaches that God’s guidance often comes through a process. Through seeking. Through prayer. Through wisdom from others. Through testing. Through small clarities that add up to a direction. Notice that David doesn’t ask for a thunderbolt. He asks to be led and taught. “Lead me in Your truth and teach me.” He’s asking for an ongoing process of being guided and learning, not a one-time answer that settles everything. And notice verse 9: “He leads the humble in justice, and He teaches the humble His way.” God leads the humble. Humility is the key. Humility means admitting you don’t have all the answers. Humility means trusting God enough to take the next step even when you can’t see the whole path. APPLICATION: SEEKING DIRECTION IN UNCERTAINTY Some of you are facing a decision right now. Maybe it’s a big one. A job change. A relationship decision. A move. A calling you’re sensing but can’t quite name. Maybe it’s smaller—how to spend your time, what to invest in, where to go next. You've prayed. You've sought counsel. You've searched the Scriptures. Yet the answer still isn't crystal clear. I think of a man who spent two years wrestling with whether to leave a secure career for work that better aligned with his faith and sense of calling. He kept waiting for God to send a lightning bolt of certainty—but it never came. Instead, clarity came gradually. Trusted people affirmed his gifts. An unexpected opportunity opened. The inner conviction grew stronger until he realized he couldn't ignore it any longer. He didn't have complete certainty before he stepped out in faith. But he had enough light for the next step. Looking back, he realized something important: the certainty came after the step of obedience, not before it. That's often how God guides us. He rarely hands us a detailed roadmap. Instead, He gives us enough light for the next faithful step. As we walk in obedience, He provides the light for the step after that. THE DISCIPLINE OF SEEKING Psalm 25 teaches us that seeking God's direction is itself a spiritual practice. It's not something you do once and move on from. It's something you return to whenever you're at a crossroads. It's also not passive. You're not sitting back hoping God will telegraph the answer. You're seeking. You're asking. You're praying. You're listening. You're seeking counsel from wise, godly people who know you well. You're exploring opportunities and paying attention to how God opens and closes doors. Dallas Willard once wrote, "The life of faith is not about having all the answers. It's about learning to trust the One who does." That's the heart of Psalm 25. You don't need to see the entire path. You need to trust God enough to take the next faithful step. And often, as you take that step, more clarity comes. Here's what's remarkable: the seeking itself strengthens your faith. As you pray, listen, and seek wise counsel, you're not merely looking for an answer—you're learning to know God. You're learning to recognize His voice, trust His character, and discern His guidance through Scripture, circumstances, godly counsel, and the quiet work of the Holy Spirit. Some people think of guidance as a transaction: "God, just tell me what to do." But Psalm 25 presents something much richer. Guidance is relational. In seeking God's will, you're drawing near to Him, and in the process, He is shaping you into the kind of person who can follow Him faithfully whether the path is clear or not. That's why David prays, "Teach me." He doesn't simply want directions—he wants to become the kind of disciple who knows the Shepherd's voice. THE PROMISE: GOD LEADS THE HUMBLE Here's the promise of Psalm 25: "He leads the humble in what is right and teaches the humble His way" (Psalm 25:9). God leads the humble—not those who have everything figured out, but those who admit they need His guidance. Those who are willing to be taught. Those who trust that God sees what they cannot. If you're facing uncertainty today, you're in exactly the right place to be led by God. Your confusion isn't necessarily a sign that God is silent. It may be His invitation to deeper humility and greater trust. And here's the beautiful part: the path God leads is always marked by "steadfast love and faithfulness" (Psalm 25:10). The destination may not be what you expected, and the journey may not be easy, but it will be good because it is guided by the loving heart of God. That's a promise worth trusting. HOW TO PRAY THIS PSALM First: Pray it when you're facing a decision. Use David's own words if they help: "Show me Your ways, Lord. Teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me." Sometimes borrowing Scripture's prayers is easier than finding your own. Second: Don't rush the answer. Our culture tells us to decide quickly and move on. Psalm 25 invites us into a process: seek, pray, ask wise people, explore possibilities, and give God time to work. His guidance often comes gradually, not instantly. Third: Pay attention to how God opens and

  5. Jul 12

    When You Feel Forgotten: A Psalm of Lament

    "WHEN YOU FEEL FORGOTTEN: A PSALM OF LAMENT" Week 2 of "Summer Psalms: Ancient Songs for Modern Hearts" Psalm 13 How long, O Lord? If you've been waiting—really waiting, for months or years—you know that question. And you know the weight of silence that follows it. This sermon is for people in the long ache. Not the sudden crisis that demands immediate rescue. But the slow, grinding pain of unanswered prayer. The question that haunts you month after month: "Where is God? Has He forgotten me?" In this second sermon of "Summer Psalms: Ancient Songs for Modern Hearts," Matthew explores David's psalm of lament—Psalm 13. Written not from comfort, but from genuine abandonment. David feels forgotten by God. His prayers go unanswered. And he asks God, desperately: "How long will You hide Your face from me?" But here's what's revolutionary: David doesn't skip over the pain to get to faith. He sits in it. He names it. He complains. And only then does he move to trust. The sermon explores: - Why lament is a legitimate form of prayer (and not a sign of weak faith) - The difference between real faith and toxic positivity - What it looks like to wait actively—not passively hoping, but choosing daily to trust - The story of a woman who's been praying for her estranged daughter for eight years, and how her faith matured - Why Christ Himself asked "How long?"—and what that means for your waiting - How to actually pray this psalm when you're in the darkness The message: You can be honest about your pain AND believe God is good. Both at once. David teaches us. Jesus models it. And you can practice it. If you've been waiting without answers, listen. Your lament is heard. God hasn't forgotten you.

  6. Jul 5

    When You Need a Rescue: A Psalm of Deliverance

    ="WHEN YOU NEED RESCUE: A PSALM OF DELIVERANCE" Week 1 of "Summer Psalms: Ancient Songs for Modern Hearts" Psalm 18 (LSB) Summer is supposed to be peaceful. Slower. A time to breathe. But summer is also when crises hit hard. Job loss. Health scares. Relational collapse. Financial emergency. Family conflict. Anxiety that won't lift. Betrayal you didn't see coming. Suddenly your safe, predictable life feels anything but safe. And you find yourself in a place you never wanted to be: desperate. Overwhelmed. Needing rescue. This is when you need Psalm 18. In this first sermon of "Summer Psalms: Ancient Songs for Modern Hearts," Matthew explores David's prayer of deliverance—written not from comfort, but from crisis. David is being hunted by King Saul. He's terrified. His enemies surround him. He's running for his life. And in the middle of that desperation, he writes one of Scripture's most powerful prayers for rescue. The sermon explores: - Why David's honesty about terror actually teaches us something - How real crisis faith works: declaration, honesty, desperation, vision, deliverance, gratitude - What Psalm 18 teaches about God's character (rock, fortress, deliverer) - Why it's okay to cry out desperately when you have nowhere else to turn - How to actually pray this psalm when you're drowning Importantly: The sermon acknowledges that not every crisis resolves the way we hope. But David teaches us something deeper—that God's character doesn't change based on our circumstances. God is rock. God is fortress. God hears our cry. If you're facing a crisis this summer, listen. David's ancient words speak directly to your modern pain.

  7. Jun 28

    When They Walk Away: Grace for the Waiting Parent

    "WHEN THEY WALK AWAY: GRACE FOR THE WAITING PARENT" Week 4 (Final) of "Faith to the Next Generation: Passing the Torch" Luke 15:11-32; Psalm 42 You did everything right. You loved God with all your heart. You taught your children about Jesus. You modeled faith. You disciplined with love. You prayed. You invited them into faith community. And they still walked away. Now what? This is the final week of "Faith to the Next Generation," and it's the sermon most churches don't preach. But we're preaching it—because some of you are carrying this pain. If your child has rejected the faith you spent years trying to pass on, this sermon is for you. Matthew explores the Prodigal Son parable—but from the perspective of the waiting father. The father who doesn't know when (or if) his son will come home. The father who grieves while hoping. The father who remains ready to receive, even when years pass. This sermon addresses: - The reality that children walk away from faith (and why it's not automatically your failure) - The grief is valid and deserves to be mourned - The difference between influence and control (you can't control their choice) - God loves your child more than you do (and that's liberation, not an insult) - Permission to grieve AND hope at the same time - Why your own faith doesn't depend on your children's faith - How to remain a waiting, hopeful, faithful parent Most importantly: It's not over. Repentance is possible. Return is possible. And even if your child never comes back to faith in this lifetime, God hasn't abandoned them—or you. This is the most tender sermon of the series. It's written for broken hearts and hopeful souls. If you're waiting for a wayward child, listen. Your pain is seen. God sees you.

  8. Jun 21

    Raising Kingdom Workers: Intentional Discipleship

    "RAISING KINGDOM WORKERS: INTENTIONAL DISCIPLESHIP" Week 3 of "Faith to the Next Generation: Passing the Torch" (Father's Day) Ephesians 6:1-4; Psalm 78:4-8 You want to raise kids who love God. Not just kids who go to church or believe the right things, but kids who actually follow Jesus. Kids who serve Him. Kids whose lives point to God. But how do you actually DO that? In the first two weeks of "Faith to the Next Generation," we explored the foundation: You have to love God with all your heart, and your kids have to choose faith for themselves. But this week, Matthew tackles the practical part: How do you intentionally disciple your children? Drawing from Ephesians 6:4, where Paul specifically addresses fathers about bringing their children up "in the discipline and instruction of the Lord," this sermon explores: - What it actually means to disciple your kids (hint: it's more than Sunday school) - Five practices for intentional faith-passing: Model it, Teach it, Correct it (with love), Invite them into it, Stay consistent - Why kids "catch" faith more than they're taught it - What fathers specifically model for their sons and daughters - Why being faithful matters way more than being perfect - How it's never too late to start being intentional about discipleship This is a sermon for parents trying their best—whether you're raising young children, guiding teenagers, or wondering if you've already messed it up. Matthew acknowledges the real struggle of passing faith while also offering practical, hope-filled direction. Special emphasis on fathers and their unique role in spiritual formation, but the content applies to all parents and grandparents invested in the next generation. If you're wrestling with how to raise kids who actually follow Jesus, this sermon is for you. Listen in.

  9. Jun 14

    Why Faith Must Be Chosen: Joshua's Challenge

    "WHY FAITH MUST BE CHOSEN: JOSHUA'S CHALLENGE" Week 2 of "Faith to the Next Generation: Passing the Torch" Joshua 24:14-15 You raised your kids in the church. You taught them about Jesus. You prayed for their faith. You did everything right. So why did they walk away? Or maybe they haven't yet, but you're afraid they will. Because somewhere deep down, you know the truth: Your kids aren't automatically Christians because you are. Faith cannot be inherited. In this second week of "Faith to the Next Generation," Matthew explores one of the most difficult realities of parenting: At some point, your children have to choose faith for themselves. Drawing from Joshua 24, where the aging Joshua stands before all Israel and says, "Choose this day whom you will serve," this sermon examines: - The difference between inherited religion and chosen faith - Why Joshua gives people real freedom to choose differently—even when it breaks his heart - What it looks like to model faith authentically while respecting your kids' freedom - The tension between presenting the case for faith and letting them decide - How to let go and trust God with the outcomes - Hope for kids who have walked away (people change; God never stops pursuing) This sermon doesn't pretend that faith is automatic or that good parenting guarantees good outcomes. Instead, it's honest about the hardest part of passing faith to the next generation: letting go. But it's also hopeful. Because Joshua's example shows us that we can model faith passionately, teach faith clearly, and still honor our kids' freedom to choose. And God is far more relentless in His pursuit of our children than we could ever be. If you're wrestling with your children's faith choices, this sermon is for you.

  10. Jun 11

    Love the Lord Your God: The Foundation

    ="LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD: THE FOUNDATION" Week 1 of "Faith to the Next Generation: Passing the Torch" Deuteronomy 6:4-9 --- You want your kids to love God. You pray for it. You hope for it. You sometimes lie awake at night wondering if you're doing enough to help them embrace faith. But here's what you need to know: The greatest thing you can do for your children's faith isn't found in perfect parenting, impressive youth groups, or the right Christian school. It's found in something much simpler and much harder. It's found in YOUR love for God. In this first week of "Faith to the Next Generation," Matthew unpacks the Shema—that ancient, foundational command to love the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, and might. But here's the key: The command to love God comes FIRST. Only THEN comes the command to teach your children. This sermon explores what that means for you as a parent or grandparent. It addresses: - Why authentic faith matters more than perfection - How kids can detect fake faith (even when we think we're hiding it) - What it actually looks like to love God with ALL your heart - Why giving your own faith that kind of priority is the greatest gift you can give your kids - How to examine your own heart this week This is a challenging sermon—not because Matthew condemns you, but because he calls you to honestly assess: Do you really love God with all your heart? And if not, what would it look like to start? Because your kids don't need a perfect parent. They need a parent whose genuine love for Jesus is real, lived out, and central to everything. Listen in and let this sermon challenge and encourage you.

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This podcast is made available from Plymouth Church of Christ. Plymouth, MI

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  • Creator
    Plymouth Church of Christ
  • Years Active
    2015 - 2026
  • Episodes
    10
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © Copyright 2026 Plymouth Church of Christ
  • Show Website
    Sermons