How do you know your faith is real?

That’s the question John tackles head-on in his letter to the early church. These were believers who, like many of us, sometimes wrestled with doubt. Not doubt about whether God exists or if church matters, but something deeper. Is this real in me? Do I actually believe this, or am I just hoping it’s true?

Love is a word we all say and celebrate. We decorate with it, post about it, and build holidays around it. But here’s the thing: We rarely stop to ask what love actually means. Most people say we just need more love in the world, but few agree on what that looks like. One person’s definition of love might be tolerance, while another’s might be truth-telling. And without an anchor, love becomes slippery—just a word we use to describe whatever makes us feel good in the moment.

Sometimes Jesus does something that catches us off guard—something that doesn’t fit the version of Him we’ve become comfortable with. In Mark 11, we see Jesus cursing a fig tree and clearing the temple courts. At first glance, it might seem like He's just having a rough day. But if we take a closer look, we discover something much deeper: a warning to God’s people about the danger of appearing fruitful while being spiritually barren.

Every one of us knows what it feels like to carry guilt. We replay our mistakes in our minds, things we’ve said, done, or failed to do, and they echo back with shame and regret. Sometimes those accusations come from others, but more often they come from within. We hold ourselves to impossible standards and then live in the tension of constantly falling short. Our own voice becomes the loudest accuser: You should have known better. You’ll never change. You’re not good enough.

At the same time, we face pressure from the outside. Life can be brutally hard. We experience sickness, betrayal, job loss, anxiety, financial burdens, or simply the weight of trying to keep everything together. It can feel like we’re being crushed by forces we can’t control. The question starts to form in our hearts: If God is for me, why is this happening?

Life doesn’t always feel like God is for us.

There are seasons when pain, uncertainty, or loss seem to shout louder than hope. It can feel like we’ve been overlooked, forgotten, or even punished. But Scripture reminds us of a powerful truth: God is for us.

This passage from John is one of the most powerful examples of invitation in the Gospel. Philip finds Nathanael and tells him, “We’ve found the one Moses and the prophets wrote about—Jesus of Nazareth!” Nathanael’s response is full of skepticism: “Nazareth? Can anything good come from there?” But Philip doesn’t argue or try to convince him. He simply says, “Come and see.”

There’s something about Easter that stirs our hearts. Something about standing in awe at the empty tomb, realizing that the resurrection wasn’t a metaphor or a hopeful story—it was a real, living event that changed everything. Jesus really did walk out of that grave, and because He lives, we’re invited into something far greater than we could ever imagine. We’re invited into a new way of living.

We often think of Easter as a single moment—Jesus walking out of the grave. And while that moment changes everything, the beauty of the resurrection isn’t just that Jesus rose from the dead. It’s that He brought something back with Him.

The resurrection is the return of a victorious King, and with that victory come gifts meant for you and me—gifts to carry us through the hardest days and anchor us in hope. Jesus brings us a personal connection with God, a divine purpose for our lives, and a peace that helps us endure. These aren’t lofty, far-off promises. These are real gifts for real people in real struggles.

Most of us grow up thinking Christianity is about being forgiven. Like God looks at our sin, says, “Okay, I forgive you,” and then sends us on our way. And that’s good news… but it’s not the whole gospel.

The Bible says we’ve been justified by faith. That’s not just forgiveness. Forgiveness is letting you off the hook. Justification is God declaring, “You are no longer guilty. There’s no sin to see here. You are innocent.” It’s a legal verdict. It’s a cosmic announcement. And it changes everything.

There’s a common belief that people are generally good—that deep down, we just need a little encouragement, a bit of guidance, and a few better habits to become who we’re meant to be. But Scripture tells a different story. The Bible is clear: we weren’t just morally confused or slightly off track. We were spiritually dead. Not weak, not imperfect—dead.

Have you ever looked at a need and thought, “Someone should do something about that,” only to realize that God might be nudging you? That’s exactly what happened to the disciples. They saw a hungry crowd and thought the only solution was to send them away. But Jesus turned the problem back on them: You give them something to eat.

Think about the relationships that have impacted your faith. Maybe it was a friend who invited you to church, a mentor who encouraged you to pursue Jesus, or even a conversation with someone who lived out their faith in a way that made you curious. These moments aren’t just coincidences; they’re evidence of God actively working in your life through others.

Many of us approach Christianity like a bucket of paint sitting in the closet—we own it, we believe in its potential, but we never apply it. Jesus makes it clear in Matthew 7 that hearing His words isn’t enough; we must put them into practice. The difference between a strong, unshakable faith and one that crumbles under pressure is not knowledge, but obedience.

Growth is something we admire in every area of life. Whether it's developing a skill, advancing in a career, or becoming a better person, growth is ingrained in our nature. But how do we measure growth in our faith? How do we know we are becoming more like Christ?

Serving others is a fundamental aspect of what it means to follow Jesus. True greatness in the kingdom of God is not measured by power or position but by humility and a willingness to serve. Jesus Himself modeled this by washing the feet of His disciples, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and ultimately giving His life as a ransom for many. He did not come to be served, but to serve.

When we think about giving, our minds often go straight to finances. And while generosity with our money matters, giving is so much more than that. In Galatians 6, Paul paints a picture of a church that gives in a deeper way—a church that gives themselves to one another.

Sometimes, we don’t realize the value of what we have until it’s gone. It’s easy to overlook the ways God is moving in our lives and in our church community. But when we take a step back and reflect, we see that gratitude isn’t just a feeling—it’s an act of worship.

We often think that making a difference for God requires extraordinary skills or achievements. But the truth is, God delights in using ordinary people to carry out His extraordinary purposes. This week, we heard the story of a 19-year-old young man who decided to follow Christ because of the faithful example of his friend. That friend didn’t preach a sermon or hold a degree in theology—he simply lived a life of faithfulness that reflected Jesus’ love.