Where in my life is God trying to plant something new? What needs softening, uprooting, or watering? Where might the Spirit already be bringing forth fruit I have not yet noticed?

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” 

We need to come to the table as if we know nothing but are hoping to learn.

There is a place for you at the table, and when we take our seat and join the divine drama, we may discover once again that nothing is too wonderful for the Lord.

The God who called Abraham, who counted faith as righteousness, who healed the woman, who raised the girl, and who raised Jesus from the dead is still at work among us.

The Trinity is not a static doctrine sitting on a shelf but living, dynamic relationship.

A broken promise wounds trust. A kept promise builds it. And Pentecost declares that God is trustworthy. God remains faithful even when circumstances are difficult.

The Ascension is not the story of Christ leaving the world behind. It is the story of Christ trusting the world enough to place his mission into human hands.

Is there something in your life that is troubling you?

Is there something that is causing you to fear?

Is there something that is making you anxious?

“The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do, and, in fact, will do greater works than these.”

Greater works?

How could that possibly happen in and through me?

“I am the gate.”
“I am the shepherd.”

Not: I was. Not: I will be someday. But: I am.

Often it is only in hindsight—when we look back and say, “He was with us there.”

So, when doubt comes—and it will—bring it into the presence of the risen Christ. Bring your questions. Bring your fears. Bring your uncertainty, just as it is. And no matter when those doubts surface—in your thoughts, your prayers, or your heart—Christ is already there, meeting you with patience, mercy, and love.

So this morning, as the earth still trembles beneath our feet, we are invited into that same strange mixture of fear and joy.

Empires rely on fear.
God relies on love.

On our own, the answer is no.

But with God… with the breath of the Spirit… with the voice of Christ…

The answer is yes.

Because the journey we are on does not end with the grief of the Cross.

The living water offered at Jacob’s Well will not be stopped by a stone rolled across a grave.
It will rise.
It will flow.
It will reach Samaritans and Pharisees,
cautious seekers and bold proclaimers.

It will reach us.

Before we fast.
Before we pray.
Before we repent.

We are loved.

The question before us is not, “How religious are we?” but “What difference does our faith make?” Where are we being called to give ourselves away, like salt? Where are we being invited to shine, even when it feels risky?