I had a conversation last week that made me think deeply about something: that we need to start preparing other people for our roles, especially in the church. The church’s biggest challenge right now is the making of disciples.

1 Kings 19 talks about one of the Lord’s greatest prophets, Elijah, who had recently done something amazing. He bravely stood alone against 400 prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel to show who the real God is. Elijah prayed to the Lord, and God answered with fire from heaven, which burned up the sacrifice. What a win! The false prophets lost, and God’s strength was seen.

But then…

The Holy Spirit leads us in every part of our lives. The Spirit leads us to what God wants us to do. He helps us grasp the Bible and figure out what’s good and wrong, which is extremely important in a world full of misunderstanding and false teaching.

Beloved, pay attention! The Holy Spirit sweeps among us, binding us together as family in Christ.

There are times in life when everything changes in an instant. These are the times that surprise us, change our habits, and make us see the world in a new way.

A mother prayed, a church prayed, or a friend stepped in the gap when we couldn’t pray for ourselves. That’s why some of us are here today. Their prayers may not have solved everything right away, but they gave us strength. They made things calm. They sometimes brought healing. They always took us to see God.

Today, we gather not only to remember, but to respond. Memorial Sunday is a sacred pause—a moment to honor those who have gone before us in service and sacrifice. They were men and women of quiet strength and deep humility- those who served their nation with honor and returned to serve their community with grace. They showed bravery, sacrifice, and unshakable faith. Their experiences of service remind us of the price of freedom.

The Spirit is moving; will we follow? The scripture today serves as a reminder that the gospel is for everyone. Who are we to stand in God’s way if He is moving among those we formerly dismissed or feared? Let us not be a people who, by our choices or biases, restrict God’s grace.

In a small town, there lived a mother named Mama Ruth. She raised five children on her own after her husband passed away early. She wasn’t famous, never traveled far, and didn’t have much money. But her kitchen was always warm, her prayers always powerful, and her home always open.

At her funeral, each of her children placed a simple cloth on the altar: her apron. That apron had fed the hungry, wiped away tears, carried the smell of love and sacrifice. The pastor stood up and said, “This apron is the ministry of motherhood. Who will wear it now?”

On the evening of that first Easter Sunday, the disciples were not celebrating. They were hiding — behind locked doors, behind their fear, behind their confusion. Though Mary had told them, “I have seen the Lord,” their hearts and minds were not yet convinced. They were afraid of the religious leaders. Their teacher had been crucified — what might happen to them?

Have you ever been there? Locked in a room of your own fear? Behind doors of grief, doubt, failure, or shame? This passage tells us what happens when the risen Jesus walks through locked doors.

Jesus doesn’t knock. He doesn’t wait for them to fix themselves up. He comes right in and says, “Peace be with you.” Not once. Not twice. But three times in this short passage. This is not just a casual “hello.” Jesus is offering the very thing they needed the most: peace. This is the same peace He promised them before the cross — “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (John 14:27). Jesus brings peace that settles fear, peace that does not depend on circumstances, and peace that remains even when everything else is uncertain.

After bringing peace, Jesus gives purpose. He says, “As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you.” Then He breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” It is a moment of divine empowerment. Jesus breathes the Spirit into the disciples and gives them new life and a new mission. He gives them authority to go into the world and speak words of forgiveness, to heal brokenness, and to share the Gospel.

Now we meet Thomas. He wasn’t in the room when Jesus first appeared. And when the others tell him the good news, he replies: “Unless I see… I will not believe.” Thomas gets labeled as the doubter, but perhaps he was just honest. Jesus doesn’t scold Thomas. Instead, eight days later, He comes back and meets Thomas exactly where he is. He offers His wounds. He invites the touch. And in that moment, Thomas makes one of the strongest confessions of faith in all of Scripture: “My Lord and my God!” Jesus responds with a blessing for us: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

John closes the chapter by telling us why he wrote all these things: “That you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.” This Gospel is not just for information; it is for transformation. Belief is not the end. It is the beginning of life.

Illustration: There’s a story told of a prisoner who spent 30 years behind bars. After being released, someone offered him a new home, a new job, and a new future. But each night, he would sleep with his door locked from the inside, and a chair against the handle. Though he was free, he still lived as if he were in prison. Many of us do the same spiritually. Christ has set us free, but we live behind locked doors. 

Friends, whatever doors we are locked in — because of our pain, our sin, or our trauma — Jesus shows up with peace. As we celebrate the risen Christ, it is significant to understand that resurrection is not just a past event to believe in, but a present mission to participate in. We are the continuation of Christ’s ministry — in our homes, communities, and world. But if you’ve ever doubted, you are not alone. Doubt does not disqualify you. Jesus welcomes the skeptic, the seeker, and the broken-hearted. He still reveals Himself to those who long to see Him.

What door is Jesus knocking on today?

• Are you hiding behind fear?

• Are you struggling with doubt?

• Are you feeling unqualified to be sent?

Peace be with you.
Believe.
Go.

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Christ Is Alive

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EDIT SITE FOOTER

Brothers and sisters, have you ever come across a story so powerful, so life-altering, that it stayed with you for years? For me, one such story came during my high school years in Africa. It was the testimony of Emmanuel Eni, a Nigerian man who wrote Delivered from the Power of Darkness. Emmanuel was once a high-ranking agent of darkness, recruited into the underworld to persecute Christians and wage spiritual war against God’s people.

Tonight, we gather to remember a supper long ago and to relive its meaning and mandate. The word "Maundy" is a Latin word “mandatum”, which means “commandment.” drawn from John 13:34.

“A new commandment I give you: that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” So Maundy is a moment of divine instruction -a command to love, serve, and remember.

Imagine waking up one morning to the sound of jubilant shouts echoing through your neighborhood. You rush to your window and see a crowd gathering, waving palm branches, laying down their coats, and chanting, “Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!” At the center of it all is a humble man riding a donkey.

Your heart is stirred. Something is happening. You feel drawn into the moment. You can’t help it—you join the crowd.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you thought, “If I were in charge, things would be better”?

Perhaps you were watching a game and the players appeared to be making all the wrong decisions; in your head, you were the expert athlete, the ideal coach, the strategist with all the correct solutions... even if you have never set foot on the pitch.

Dear in Christ, we all have items we take custody of—things that are ours, not only because we own them, but also because of the relationship we have developed with them. These could be memories, pets, people, or real items. They are not only "things." They shape our identity. They hold the narrative of our life journey, feelings, and experiences.

Human suffering is varied. Some suffer from sickness, others from natural disasters, and others from economic hardships or social rejection. Suffering is a reality that touches every life in different ways. Some are victims of tragic accidents, like those in Jesus’ example—the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices or those who perished when the tower of Siloam fell. In the face of such suffering, many ask: "Why did this happen? Was it because of sin?"

When I received an invitation to preach at the Lenten Community Service, I asked myself, what message would I convey to these distinguished servants and followers of the Lord? As I sought the Lord in prayer, He led me to Matthew 16:24-26, a passage that speaks of self-denial, sacrifice, and the eternal value of following Christ.

Last Sunday, we reflected on how Jesus was tempted by the devil in the wilderness (Luke 4:1-13). After failing to make Jesus stumble, the scripture tells us that “the devil left him until an opportune time” (Luke 4:13). Today’s passage in Luke 13 presents what appears to be one of those opportune times. The devil, still determined to derail Jesus from His mission, comes again—but this time through the Pharisees.

The Pharisees come to Jesus with what seems like a warning: “Leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you” (Luke 13:31). On the surface, it sounds like they are concerned for His safety. But could this be another form of temptation? Could this be another attempt to make Jesus abandon His mission?

There are seasons in life when we find ourselves in a wilderness—moments of uncertainty, waiting, and intense trials. This is exactly what happened to Jesus in Luke 4:1-13. Right after His baptism, when He was full of the Holy Spirit and ready to begin His ministry, He was led into the wilderness. For forty days, He fasted, prayed, and prepared Himself. But before He could step into the fullness of His calling, Satan came with three temptations—each one designed to make Him doubt God’s provision, power, and promises.

This week, I found myself reflecting on the phrase, “Radiance or Glory of the Lord.” I questioned whether this was a common phenomenon or simply an abstract phrase. I wanted to believe that, even for native English speakers, it might sound vague or mystical. What does it really mean for God's radiance to be upon someone? Is it merely a supernatural glow, or is it something more tangible, something more transformative?