You can spend hours in an old adventure game, testing gems in random combinations, unsure whether the puzzle has any answer at all. That sounds familiar because we wonder the same thing about life. Isaiah 40 speaks to people wondering if God has left us with a random jumble of puzzle pieces and assures us there’s something more.
As daylight fades earlier each evening, familiar rooms become harder to navigate—and life can darken just as predictably. In 2 Corinthians 1:7–11, Paul refuses to minimize an affliction so crushing that he despaired of life itself. His words confront the question that surfaces when relief does not come: where can hope rest when personal strength is gone?
When things feel overwhelming, you reach for comfort food—a buttery potato, a square of chocolate—knowing none of it will fix the job or the diagnosis. In 2 Corinthians 1:3–6, Paul calls God “the God of all comfort” while placing that comfort squarely in the midst of affliction, not beyond it. When God does not remove the pain, could comfort be arriving in a form you did not expect?
Christmas can arrive wrapped in lights and joy while grief, loss, and the sense that this world is deeply broken remain close at hand. The Gospel of Mark opens with “the beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ,” echoing creation itself and pressing an Advent question beneath all the decorations: What kind of beginning can Jesus bring to lives that do not feel whole?
Comfort, institutional preservation, and tribal identity can crowd out obedience to God’s call in our lives. Do we hear His call to reach those in need of His Grace and to live in the “risky repentance” that involves?
When evil still creeps in unchecked and we wonder why God doesn’t swoop down to stop it, it can feel as if He isn’t even paying attention. Psalm 11 speaks to us when we feel that nagging doubt.
As we look at the conclusion of Psalm 6 tonight, we explore how David emerges from deep despair even though things aren’t yet fully “right.”
Are we seeking real security at Christmas or just security theater?
We want to share the life God has for us, but we must be willing to reject our own comfort. It’s not easy, and it sure isn’t comfortable. How do we become bolder about sharing Jesus?
Mothers mourn over children falling away, over ones they’ve outlived, over the ache of children they never had. That grief feels heavy for Mother’s Day, yet Jesus declares in Matthew 5:4, “Blessed are those who mourn.” How is it blessed to mourn?