Closing the Door
The Sunday following Easter is sometimes a hard act to follow. It's easy to get caught up in things like the boost in attendance, the heightened passion and eagerness of the congregation, and the openness of hearts that feels more pronounced than usual. That’s why it’s so important to take each week for what it is — a new gift from God. Every single Sunday presents something fresh, something new that God is doing. Staying focused on that keeps our hearts aligned and our minds sharp, ready to walk with Him in whatever He has prepared.
The morning was a blur—every bit of it. From the moment I woke up to the moment I stood to teach, it all felt like a fast-forward reel. Distractions had been heavy since Friday, and they kept coming as I headed out the door. By distractions, I mean the enemy trying to stir up frustrations, hoping to shift my focus onto problems instead of God’s promises. I wasn't having any of it.
I decided to treat myself on the way to church and stopped by Whole Foods for a flat white with oat milk. (They actually make a good flat white and cortado — and a couple of dollars cheaper than most places.)
When I pulled up to the building, I walked around the front, covering the place in the blood of Jesus. Then I got to work unloading things and setting up worship music, creating an atmosphere of praise and reverence for the volunteers. I could feel I needed some space to clear my mind, so I grabbed my coffee, thanked God for the cool morning air, and took a thirty-minute walk around the park.
That simple walk reset my heart.
Later, gathering with the volunteers and a few early arrivers for prayer was the perfect lead-in for what God had in store. Twenty minutes later, we were all in a different place—ready, expectant, grounded.
After worship, the Lord ministered through Marissa as she led us in prayer. It was one of those beautiful moments where you could just sit back and receive from God. His words of encouragement, His peace, His glory filled the room. It was a holy stillness—one many of us needed without even realizing it. God knew.
As I stood up to teach, I knew I was bringing a scalpel, not a hammer. Today wasn’t about fire or fanfare. I wasn’t expecting shouts or applause—not that those are the goal anyway. As a pastor, you learn: sometimes the deepest moves of God happen in silence. A still room can often mean hearts are listening closely.
I was in 2 Samuel 24 this morning. This passage is one of the most sobering moments in David’s life, and it shines a revealing light on the spiritual vulnerabilities hidden in our own hearts. I asked the congregation: What’s in me that Satan could use against me? God allowed David to be tested, and Satan found an open door. If it could happen to David, it could happen to us.
But there’s hope: when we allow God to search our hearts, confess what’s hidden, and live surrendered to Him, we close every door the enemy tries to use. (You can listen to the sermon here.) You can also get the notes here.
After service, the energy shifted quickly as we hustled to clean up and set up for our first-ever Next Steps class. We had a great turnout. (Let’s be honest—food helps.) Joking aside, it was a special moment. It was a time to learn about the history of our church, to understand what it truly means to be a part of this community, and most importantly, to see how each of us is invited not just to sit and watch the story God is writing here — but to live in it, be shaped by it, and add our own chapter to it.
Looking back, that blurry morning was actually full of moments — moments where God was at work in ways seen and unseen. It turned out to be a very good Sunday — and I believe that if we carry the presence of God and apply what we’ve learned, breakthrough and victory will be inevitable by the end of this coming week.
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II Samuel 24
Ephesians 4:26-27
James 1:14-15
Psalm 139:23-24
Proverbs 28:13
II Peter 2:19-22
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