Called For Blessings - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

What if everything we think we know about being blessed is incomplete? This powerful exploration of Ephesians 1:3-14 invites us to take a spiritual inventory and discover that we've already been given every spiritual blessing in Christ. We're not waiting for blessings to arrive—they're already here. The message challenges us to shift from a scarcity mindset to an abundance mentality, recognizing that we've been chosen before the foundation of the world, adopted into God's family, redeemed through Christ's blood, forgiven of our sins, and lavished with grace. These aren't material blessings that fade away, but eternal, relational, and transformative gifts that sustain us when everything else is shaking. The profound truth revealed here is that our ancestors understood something powerful: you can have joy in your heart even when your pockets are empty, because spiritual blessings are the kind that matter when the money runs out, when the job ends, and when life doesn't go according to plan. This isn't about ignoring our problems—it's about recognizing that being blessed has nothing to do with our circumstances and everything to do with our position in Christ.

Taking Inventory: Understanding Your Spiritual Blessings

When we hear the word "blessed," it can mean so many different things depending on the context. Sometimes it's a genuine expression of gratitude, other times it's aspirational—speaking not from where we are, but where we hope to be. Yet the apostle Paul, writing from a Roman prison cell, offers us a radically different perspective on what it means to be blessed.

Imagine being chained to a guard, uncertain about your future, separated from the people you love, with no guarantee of your next meal. Most of us would struggle to find anything positive to say about our circumstances. But Paul's letter to the Ephesians overflows with joy about spiritual riches. Why? Because he understood a fundamental truth: being blessed has nothing to do with your circumstances and everything to do with your position in Christ.

The Spiritual Inventory

In Ephesians 1:3-14, Paul takes an inventory—not of material possessions, but of spiritual blessings. He declares that God "has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ." Notice the tense: not "will bless" but "has blessed." Past tense. Already done. The blessings aren't coming; they're already here.

This is revolutionary. We often think blessings are something we need to earn through hard work, long prayers, or proving ourselves worthy. But Paul says the blessings are already ours. They're not about a new car, a bigger house, or a fatter bank account—though God can certainly provide those things. Paul is talking about spiritual blessings that are eternal, relational, and transformative.

These are the blessings that matter when the money runs out, when the job ends, when the doctor gives bad news, when life doesn't go according to plan. Our ancestors understood this deeply. They didn't have much in their pockets, but they had joy in their hearts. They couldn't own land, but they knew they had a home in glory. They couldn't vote, but they understood they were citizens of heaven.

Five Spiritual Blessings

Paul outlines exactly what these spiritual blessings are:

1. You Were Chosen

Before God spoke the first word of creation, before light existed, before stars were formed or oceans carved out, God was thinking about you. You are not an accident or a mistake. You were specifically, intentionally, purposefully chosen by God. Whatever label the world has placed on you doesn't matter—God has chosen you, and that settles it.

2. You Were Adopted

In the Roman world, adoption was a big deal. An adopted child received all the rights and benefits of a natural-born child, but there's more: their old debts were canceled and their old identity was erased. They got a new name, a new inheritance, and a new family.

That's what God did for us. You may have come from a broken home, but you've been adopted into God's family. You might have a painful past, but now you have a promising future as a child of God. This adoption isn't based on merit but on God's pleasure and purpose. God wanted you in His family not because you earned it, but because He loved you.

3. You Have Redemption

Redemption means you've been bought back. When something valuable was in bondage, someone had to pay a price to set it free. We were set for death and separation from God, but Jesus paid the price—not with silver or gold, but with His own blood on the cross.

If you've ever been in bondage to addiction, anger, anxiety, the opinions of others, or past mistakes, Jesus paid the price to set you free. The chains are broken. The door is open. You have been redeemed.

4. You Have Forgiveness

We all have things in our past we're not proud of. Words we wish we could take back, decisions we wish we could undo, relationships we wish we could repair. But God says, "I forgive you"—not because you deserve it, but because His grace is greater than your sin.

5. You've Been Lavished with Grace

God doesn't give grace in a little cup, letting it drip out drop by drop. He lavishes it on you. He pours it over you like a waterfall. He gives you wisdom to navigate life's challenges, to make difficult decisions, to understand His will.

The Responsibility of Blessing

Once you realize how blessed you are, you must deal with the responsibility that comes with those blessings. Every gift from God comes with an assignment. You're not just blessed so you can feel good about yourself—you're blessed to be a blessing to someone else.

If someone gives you a tool, they expect you to use it. If they give you a seed, they expect you to plant it. Spiritual blessings are no different. We don't own these blessings; we manage them. There's a difference between an owner and a steward. An owner can do whatever they want with something. A steward is responsible for taking care of something that belongs to somebody else.

Everything you have—your time, talent, money, influence, relationships, opportunities—belongs to God. You are the manager. One day, the Owner will ask: "What did you do with what I gave you?"

The Guarantee

Paul tells us we've been sealed with the Holy Spirit. In the ancient world, a king would seal a letter with his signet ring to prove authenticity and mark ownership. God has sealed you with His Spirit. That means you belong to Him. You're authentic. You're the real deal.

The Holy Spirit is also a guarantee of what's to come. Everything you have in Christ right now—the joy, peace, forgiveness, love—is just the beginning, just the down payment, just a preview. The fullness is coming. When you understand that, you can face today's troubles because tomorrow's blessings are guaranteed.

From Gratitude to Generosity

Gratitude produces generosity. When you're truly grateful for what God has done, you can't help but share it with others. God blessed you to be a blessing. He doesn't fill your cup so you can admire how full it is—He fills it so it can overflow into the lives of others.

The challenge is this: Have you been holding on too tight, living with a scarcity mindset when God has given you an abundance mentality? Have you been so focused on what you don't have that you've missed what you do have?

Take inventory. Count your blessings and see what God has done. Generosity isn't just about money—it's about time, love, forgiveness, encouragement, presence, and prayers. It's not just about what you have; it's about who you are. It's about recognizing that blessings flow through you, not just to you.

You are chosen, adopted, redeemed, forgiven, and sealed. You have every spiritual blessing in Christ. The question is: What are you going to do with it?

A Moving Man - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

This powerful exploration of Matthew 2:13-23 reveals Jesus as a moving man—literally. From birth in Bethlehem to refuge in Egypt to settlement in Nazareth, the infant Messiah's journey mirrors the displacement many of us experience in our own lives. What stands out is Joseph's immediate obedience: when God said move, Joseph moved—no negotiations, no delays, no excuses. The message challenges us to examine our own response to divine direction. How often do we negotiate with God, asking for more time or better circumstances before we obey? The sermon draws a profound connection between Jesus' experience as a political refugee and our call to compassion for the vulnerable, the displaced, and the marginalized. Jesus didn't just sympathize with the outsider—He was the outsider. He understood what it meant to flee for safety, to hide in a foreign land, to be a stranger. This isn't just ancient history; it's a mirror for our times. The text reminds us that delayed obedience is disobedience, and that God's protection often requires our movement. When we align ourselves with God's will and listen to His voice, He weaves our obedience into His master plan, fulfilling purposes we may never fully see in the moment.

The Moving Man: Lessons in Obedience and Divine Protection

Have you ever found yourself in a season of constant movement? Not just physically relocating, but spiritually transitioning from one phase of life to another? There's something profoundly instructive about the early years of Jesus' life that speaks directly to our own journeys of faith and obedience.

When God Says Move

The story picks up just after the wise men—the Magi—have visited the young child Jesus in Bethlehem. Notice the text doesn't specify three wise men; it simply says "the Magi." They brought gifts fit for a king: gold for royalty, and frankincense and myrrh—ointments used in burial preparations. Even at His birth, the shadow of the cross was present.

Joseph had likely begun to settle down. Perhaps he was thinking about establishing his carpenter shop, building a life for his family in Bethlehem. But God had other plans. An angel appeared to Joseph in a dream with urgent instructions: "Get up, take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him" (Matthew 2:13).

Here's what's remarkable: Joseph didn't negotiate. He didn't ask for clarification. He didn't say, "Lord, I don't know anyone in Egypt" or "I don't speak the language" or "Let me pray about this for a few weeks." The text tells us Joseph got up that very night and left. When God spoke, Joseph moved.

Delayed obedience is disobedience. Partial obedience is disobedience.

How many times has God whispered to us that it's time to change a situation, and we've responded with "But I'm comfortable here"? How often has the Spirit prompted us to make a move, and we've negotiated, rationalized, or simply waited to see if the feeling would pass?

Joseph understood something crucial: when God speaks, He speaks for a reason, and that reason is always connected to our protection and God's purpose.

The Refugee Savior

Consider this striking detail: Jesus became a political refugee. He was an immigrant, a minority living in Egypt. And here's a thought worth pondering—how could a family hide in Egypt, an African nation, and blend in with the natives? What level of melanin would be required to disappear into the local population? This isn't an incidental detail; it's a profound statement about who Jesus was and who He identified with.

From the very beginning, Jesus understood vulnerability. He wasn't born in a palace but in a feeding trough. He didn't flee to luxury but to refugee status. This means our care for strangers, our advocacy for refugees, our standing with the displaced—these aren't merely acts of political correctness. They're acts of biblical faithfulness. We're following the example of Jesus Himself, who knew what it meant to be a stranger in a strange land.

The Retaliation of Power

While Joseph's family escaped, something horrific unfolded in Bethlehem. When Herod realized the Magi had outwitted him, he ordered the execution of all boys two years old and under in Bethlehem and the surrounding area.

Herod was a dictator consumed by paranoia. He killed his own wife when he suspected her of plotting against him. He murdered three of his own sons. The Roman Emperor Augustus once quipped that it was better to be Herod's pig than Herod's son—since Herod converted to Judaism and wouldn't touch pork, but he'd readily kill his own children.

Interestingly, there's limited historical record of this massacre outside of Scripture. But that shouldn't surprise us. Powerful people commit atrocities and then try to erase them from the record. We've seen this pattern throughout history—the rewriting of textbooks, the banning of books, the changing of narratives, the removal of uncomfortable truths from curricula.

Herod's massacre represents something we still see today: the powerful attempting to protect their position at any cost, even if it means destroying the innocent. Matthew quotes Jeremiah 31:15: "A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more."

This is the sound of trauma. This is the sound of mothers who have lost their children to violence they didn't create and cannot control. And Jesus hears that sound. Jesus knows that pain. He came into a world where this violence existed, and He didn't ignore it—He came to confront it and ultimately defeat it.

The Return and the System

After Herod died, an angel again appeared to Joseph: "Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child's life are dead" (Matthew 2:20). Joseph obeyed and returned, but when he heard that Herod's son Archelaus was ruling in Judea, he withdrew to Galilee and settled in Nazareth.

Here's a critical lesson: we can't just focus on the man; we must understand we're dealing with systems. Just because someone we don't like is no longer in charge doesn't mean the system will suddenly work in our favor. The man can go away, but someone else will fill that vacuum, potentially doing just as much harm—maybe even with a smile.

Scripture reminds us: "We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities" (Ephesians 6:12). Systems outlast individuals.

Fulfilling Prophecy Through Obedience

What's beautiful about Joseph's journey is that he fulfilled multiple prophecies without even trying. Micah prophesied the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. Hosea declared He would be called out of Egypt. Multiple prophets said He would be called a Nazarene.

Joseph wasn't checking prophetic boxes. He was simply listening to God and obeying. And in that obedience, God's purpose was fulfilled.

That's how God works. When we align ourselves with God's will, when we listen to His voice, when we move when He says move and stay when He says stay, God weaves our obedience into His master plan.

Joseph didn't have a five-year plan or a GPS. What he had was a relationship with God, an ear tuned to God's voice, and a willingness to trust even when he couldn't see the full picture.

God's Compassion for Us

The word "compassion" comes from Latin roots meaning "to suffer with." It means taking someone's pain seriously and doing what you can to alleviate it. We cannot cover our eyes and ears and ignore the violence around us. Jesus grew up seeing vulnerable people, and Scripture tells us He had compassion on them.

The same God who provided for and protected Joseph, Mary, and Jesus is the same God providing for and protecting us today. He's active in our lives. He's securing our future. And He calls us to have that same compassion for vulnerable people in our communities.

Like Joseph, we've had to move when we didn't want to. Like Jesus' family, we've known displacement and unfamiliar territory. Like the mothers of Bethlehem, we've experienced grief and loss. But through it all—through every struggle, every political turmoil, every financial crisis, every relationship challenge—God is with us.

Even when we cannot track Him, we can trust Him. Through it all, we learn to depend on His word. God doesn't wait until we're in crisis mode to show up. He's already there, already working, already making a way.

We just need to learn to listen to His voice and trust His guidance. Because if He protected the Messiah through all of that, how much more will He protect us?

Quietly Protecting a Name - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

This powerful exploration of Matthew 1:18-25 invites us into the hidden drama behind the first Christmas—a story not of perfect circumstances, but of messy realities transformed by divine purpose. We discover Joseph, a righteous man caught in an impossible situation: his betrothed Mary is pregnant, and he knows the child isn't his. Yet instead of choosing public disgrace or legal retribution, Joseph opts for quiet mercy, willing to absorb shame himself rather than destroy Mary's life. This is where God breaks in—through an angel's message that transforms confusion into calling. The passage reveals that God's most significant work often happens through imperfect people in socially unacceptable situations. Joseph's silent obedience, his willingness to name the child Jesus and claim him into David's lineage, becomes the hinge upon which salvation enters the world. We're challenged to consider our own impossible situations: Where is God asking us to trust when the path isn't clear? Where are we called to choose mercy over self-protection? The two names—Jesus meaning 'God saves' and Emmanuel meaning 'God with us'—remind us that we're never trapped by our past and never truly alone. Joseph teaches us that real faith isn't passive certainty but active obedience, even when nobody sees or applauds the work we're doing behind the 

scenes.

The Power of Quiet Obedience: Protecting What Matters Most

Names carry weight. They communicate identity, purpose, and destiny. From the moment we hear our name called, something stirs within us—a recognition that we matter, that we belong, that we have a place in this world. Throughout Scripture, names hold profound significance, revealing not just who someone is, but what God intends to do through them.

The opening chapter of Matthew's Gospel presents us with a genealogy that might seem tedious at first glance—forty-two generations from Abraham to Joseph. Yet within this lineage lies a powerful truth: God's plan doesn't always look the way we expect it to. The bloodline includes people with questionable professions, those who made ungodly mistakes, and individuals whose lives were far from perfect. God works through messy situations, imperfect people, and circumstances that don't fit our neat categories.

When Everything Falls Apart

Joseph found himself in an impossible situation. Engaged to Mary—not a casual modern engagement, but a legally binding betrothal that could only be broken through divorce—he discovered she was pregnant. The child wasn't his. Under the law, Mary could be stoned to death for adultery. Joseph had every legal and social right to make a public spectacle of her, to protect his own reputation by exposing her shame.

But here's where Joseph's character shines through the centuries. The text describes him as "faithful to the law, yet he did not want to expose her to public disgrace." Joseph was both righteous and merciful—a rare combination. Even in his pain, confusion, and sense of betrayal, he chose mercy. He decided to divorce Mary quietly, willing to absorb the shame himself rather than destroy her life.

How many of us have faced situations where we did everything right, but everything still went wrong? Where we followed God's leading as best we could, but circumstances didn't cooperate? Joseph stands as a testament to those moments when human wisdom says to cut your losses and move on, when everything looks impossible and the path forward seems completely blocked.

The Divine Interruption

After Joseph had considered his plan, an angel appeared to him in a dream with a message that would change everything: "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."

Those four words—"do not be afraid"—appear in Scripture 365 times, one for every day of the year. The angel wasn't minimizing Joseph's concerns or dismissing his pain. Instead, the message was clear: God is at work in this socially unacceptable situation. Something wonderful is happening, even though it doesn't look like what anyone expected.

The angel gave Joseph a specific command: "You are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

In biblical times, names were never arbitrary. They carried meaning and proclaimed purpose. The name Jesus means "God saves," and by naming the child, Joseph would declare the mission of the Messiah and place him within the Davidic lineage. Matthew also reminds us of the prophecy: the virgin would conceive and give birth to a son called Emmanuel—"God with us."

Faith That Speaks in Silence

Here's what makes Joseph's response remarkable: "When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him." No debate. No hesitation. No consulting with friends and family. No committee meetings or strategic planning sessions. God commanded, and Joseph obeyed.

Joseph trusted God even when it would cost him his reputation. He chose mercy over self-protection, faith over fear, and obedience over convenience. And throughout Scripture, we never hear Joseph speak a single recorded word. His faith speaks through silence; his life becomes the sermon.

This challenges our modern assumptions about impact and influence. We live in a world that values being out front, on the program, doing all the talking. But Joseph reminds us that the most important work often happens behind the scenes, where nobody sees or applauds. The juggler on stage receives the applause, but behind the curtain lie all the broken plates from practice. The skilled musician plays effortlessly, but we don't see the thousands of hours spent on scales and drills.

Joseph worked like that—behind the scenes, without lines in the Christmas story, yet his decision to take Mary as his wife and name that baby Jesus made everything else possible.

Two Names, One Mission

Matthew gives us two names for this child, and both are commanding. Jesus—the Lord saves. This child came to rescue us from the sins and shortcomings that fracture our relationship with God and others. We make such a mess of our lives as individuals and communities, and we need a Savior.

Emmanuel—God with us. This is the surest sign that the Lord is present in every time, place, and situation. With Jesus, we are never trapped by our sins. With Emmanuel, we are never completely alone.

The Call to Trust

Perhaps you're facing a situation right now where God is calling you to step out in faith. The circumstances don't make sense. The path isn't clear. People don't understand. But the same message the angel spoke to Joseph echoes across the centuries: "Do not be afraid."

You might feel like your situation is impossible, like you've messed up too badly, like your past disqualifies you, or like you're all alone. But Jesus saves, and Emmanuel is with you. The same God who spoke to Joseph in a dream is still speaking today. The same God who worked through one man's quiet obedience is still working through ordinary people who trust Him.

Real faith isn't rooted in certainty but in a trust-filled relationship with God. Discipleship means obeying even when the pieces don't fit together, when the world says it's foolish, when the heart struggles to understand. When God calls, we move. When God speaks, we listen. When God commands, we obey.

Trust God even when the path is unclear. Choose mercy even when you're hurting. Be faithful even when nobody sees or applauds. Because when you do, God will do something beautiful, something redemptive, something that only God can do.

Wait, Brace, Let it Go - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

In a world that demands everything instantly, we're confronted with one of faith's most challenging requirements: patience. Drawing from James chapter 5, this message takes us into the heart of what it means to wait faithfully in uncertain times. The early believers James addressed were living through political chaos, economic instability, and literal persecution for their faith—circumstances that mirror our own feelings of uncertainty today. Yet James doesn't offer them a quick fix or promise immediate relief. Instead, he provides a framework for holy patience that transforms waiting from passive frustration into active faith. Through the metaphor of the farmer who plants seeds and tends the soil while trusting the seasons, we discover that biblical patience isn't about sitting idly by. It's about watching how others navigate their trials, working purposefully to cultivate our spiritual lives, and worshiping God even when answers seem delayed. The prophets who suffered and waited—Jeremiah, Daniel, Elijah—become our guides, showing us that faithfulness isn't measured by immediate results but by persistent trust. This isn't just about waiting for God to move; it's about who we're becoming while we wait. Are we developing spiritual disciplines? Are we treating others with grace despite our own pain? Are we preparing for the harvest we believe is coming? The judge stands at the door, and our waiting has purpose.

The Sacred Art of Waiting: Finding Purpose in the In-Between

We live in a world that despises waiting. Fast food lines feel unbearable if they stretch beyond five minutes. Internet videos that buffer are immediately abandoned. Same-day delivery has become the expectation rather than the luxury. We've been trained by technology and culture to expect everything instantly—or faster.

Yet the book of James calls us to something radically countercultural: patience.

Waiting in Chaos

The original audience of James's letter lived in tumultuous times. The first-century Roman Empire was marked by violence, economic instability, and political upheaval. Leaders rose and fell with alarming frequency. Christians never knew whether they would be tolerated or persecuted, welcomed or expelled from their cities. Food shortages plagued families. Insurrections erupted in the streets.

Sound familiar?

These believers were trying to raise children, build their faith, and hold onto hope while the news cycle brought nothing but chaos. They were waiting—waiting for justice, waiting for relief, waiting for Jesus to return as He promised. And as the years passed and circumstances worsened, they kept asking: "How much longer?"

Waiting is hard. It tests us. It reveals what's truly in our hearts. When we're forced to wait, we can become discouraged, bitter, and impatient—not just with God, but with each other. The early Christians began grumbling against one another, taking their frustrations out on their brothers and sisters in Christ.

We do the same. When we're waiting on God for breakthrough, healing, or answers, we become irritable and snap at those around us—our spouse, children, coworkers, church family. Misery loves company, after all.

But James says no. That's not how we wait.

Three Pillars of Holy Waiting

If we're going to wait—and we will—how do we wait faithfully? How do we wait in a way that honors God and honors each other? The text reveals three essential practices: watch, work, and worship.

Watch: Learn from Others

Being patient doesn't mean passively sitting idle, twiddling our thumbs in life's waiting room. Holy patience is active and observant. We're called to pay attention—to watch how others navigate their waiting seasons.

Watch the people who wait with grace, dignity, and hope. Notice how they maintain joy even when answers are delayed. Observe how they treat others with kindness while they themselves are hurting. Learn from those who keep showing up, keep believing, keep trusting God.

Also watch those who wait poorly. Notice what happens when bitterness takes root, when people lose patience with God and each other, when grumbling and complaining tear communities apart. Learn from that too.

We don't wait in isolation. We wait in community, which means we have the opportunity to encourage one another, learn from one another, and strengthen one another. As one theologian noted, we cannot be Christians outside of community. Love God. Love people. Be patient with one another.

Work: Purposeful Preparation

James offers a powerful illustration: "See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains."

Farmers understand waiting. They plant seeds but cannot make them grow faster. They cannot control the seasons or command the rain. But here's the key: while farmers wait, they work.

After planting, farmers don't sit on the porch until harvest. They repair equipment, check crops for pests, maintain their accounting, and plan for the next season. The work is purposeful. It's preparation. It's an expression of faith in the coming harvest.

God has given us work to do while we wait. We cannot make ourselves grow spiritually any more than a farmer can make seeds grow. But we can cultivate the soil. We can water the ground. We can remove the weeds. We can create conditions for growth.

What does that look like practically? Reading Scripture. Spending time in prayer. Serving one another. Building our faith. Developing our character. Using our gifts. If we're praying for financial breakthrough, perhaps we take financial literacy classes. If we're praying for healing, maybe we also make healthier choices. If we're praying for a life partner, perhaps we work through our own issues in therapy.

Real faith works while it waits. A farmer who truly believes in the harvest doesn't neglect the farm during the waiting season. They tend to it. They prepare for what's coming. The work itself is an expression of faith.

Worship: Trust Beyond Circumstances

James points to the prophets as examples of patience in suffering. Jeremiah was thrown into a cistern. Daniel faced the lions' den. Elijah ran for his life. Isaiah prophesied to deaf ears. John the Baptist was imprisoned and executed.

The prophets suffered. They waited. Many never saw the fulfillment of God's promises in their lifetimes. But they remained faithful. They kept speaking. They kept believing. They kept worshiping.

Worship isn't just Sunday morning songs and raised hands. Worship is a lifestyle. It's trusting God when we can't see the outcome. It's declaring His goodness when circumstances say otherwise. It's holding onto faith when the wait feels impossibly long.

The prophets worshiped through their waiting. They looked to God rather than their circumstances. They anchored their hope in His promises rather than their present reality.

We stand on the shoulders of those who came before us—the matriarchs and patriarchs who prayed, served, and sacrificed on far less than we have now. They built universities, hospitals, and institutions when they barely had two pennies to rub together. If God was faithful to them in their suffering and waiting, He can surely help us too.

Already and Not Yet

We live in an in-between time. Jesus has already won the victory over sin and death. The kingdom has already broken into the world. But it's not yet fully realized. We are "already and not yet."

James never promises the wait will be short or easy. He doesn't promise we won't suffer. But he does promise we won't wait alone. We wait together. We encourage each other. We strengthen each other's hearts. We look to the example of those who have gone before us.

And most importantly, we trust in a God who has never failed us.

The Lord is waiting too—waiting with patience and mercy for people to come to repentance, waiting with compassion for us to grow and mature, waiting with a love that never fails.

So be patient. Stand firm. Strengthen your heart. Watch. Work. Worship.

Because the Lord is coming near. The judge is standing at the door. And when we learn to wait with holy patience, we discover that the waiting itself transforms us into the people God is calling us to be.

The Foundations of Our Faith - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

What does it truly mean to build a church where everyone belongs? This powerful exploration of Romans 15:4-13 takes us back to the foundational principles that should unite us as believers. We're reminded that the early church faced the same struggles we do today—divisions over who's 'in' and who's 'out,' arguments about traditions versus grace, and questions about acceptance. Paul wrote to a Roman church he'd never visited, a community living under oppression yet still finding things to argue about internally. Sound familiar? The message calls us back to three essential foundations: the Word that gives us endurance, encouragement, and hope; the radical welcome that mirrors how Christ accepted us while we were still sinners; and unified worship that transcends our differences. We're challenged to examine whether we're building barriers or tearing them down, whether we're extending grace or making lists of requirements. The world is watching to see if we really practice what we preach. This isn't about compromising truth—it's about extending the same grace we received. As we await Christ's return, the root of Jesse who came for all nations, we're called to live out these foundations faithfully, creating communities where the least, the last, and the lost can find home.

The Foundations That Hold Us Together

In 325 AD, the Christian church faced a crisis that threatened to tear it apart. Bishops and believers argued so intensely about the nature of Jesus Christ that cities rioted in the streets. The question at hand: Was Jesus equal with God, or was He a created being beneath the Father? The debate grew so heated that legend tells us two bishops even came to blows over the matter.

This wasn't a disagreement about worship styles or church furniture. This was about the very foundation of what Christians believe. Eventually, 318 bishops gathered at the Council of Nicaea to settle the matter, producing what we now know as the Nicene Creed—a statement affirming that Jesus is "begotten, not made, of one being with the Father," and that the Holy Spirit is equally God. This gave the church language for the Trinity: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

But here's the sobering truth: division within the church is nothing new.

A Letter to a Divided Church

When the Apostle Paul wrote his letter to the Romans—his longest epistle, often called his "PhD thesis"—he addressed a church he had never visited. Unlike his other letters written to congregations he had planted and nurtured, this was different. The Roman church already existed, and it faced unique challenges.

These believers lived in the capital of the empire that had crucified their Lord. They worshiped in secret, knowing their faith could cost them everything. Yet even under this external persecution, they found something to argue about internally.

The division was clear: Jewish believers who had grown up in the covenant faith versus Gentile believers who were new to the ways of God. The Jews thought they had an inside track—after all, they were the original covenant people. The Gentiles were being treated like second-class citizens in God's kingdom. Questions swirled: Did Gentiles need to convert to Judaism first? What about circumcision? Dietary laws? Holy days?

Even Paul, who had given up everything for the gospel and had been beaten, imprisoned, shipwrecked, and left for dead, wondered if he would be accepted by this church. Would the Jews think he was too lenient with the Gentiles? Would the Gentiles think his Jewish background made him untrustworthy?

Sound familiar? The same questions echo through church history and into our present day: Who's in and who's out? Who really belongs? How do we build a church where everyone who loves Jesus can find a home?

Three Foundational Practices

In Romans 15:4-13, Paul offers three foundational practices that can hold a diverse, divided church together.

The Word

"Everything that was written in the past was written to teach us," Paul writes, "so that through the endurance taught in the scriptures and the encouragement they provide, we might have hope."

The scriptures give us endurance because they show us we're not the first to struggle and we won't be the last. They give us encouragement because they demonstrate that God has never abandoned His people. They give us hope because they point to promises God will fulfill.

How do we know that "those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength" without the Word? How do we learn that "no weapon formed against us shall prosper" or that "weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning" without diving into scripture?

The stories of Abraham's faith, Moses' leadership, David's failures and redemption, and the prophets' calls for justice—all were written for our instruction. There's nothing new under the sun. Whatever we're facing—grief, divorce, wayward children, difficult bosses—it's all in there. Someone has walked this path before us. And if they made it through, we can too.

But we can't be strengthened by a Bible that collects dust on the shelf. We can't be transformed by a Word we never study. Getting back to basics means opening the Bible daily, studying it deeply, and letting it shape our minds, challenge our assumptions, comfort our hearts, and guide our steps.

Welcome

"Accept one another," Paul instructs, "just as Christ accepted you in order to bring praise to God."

Notice what he doesn't say. He doesn't say accept only those who agree with you, look like you, think like you, or vote like you. He says accept one another—all of one another—just as Christ accepted you.

And how did Christ accept us? Did He wait for us to get our theology straight? Did He require us to clean ourselves up first? Did He make us prove ourselves? No. Christ accepted us while we were still sinners. He welcomed us while we were still broken and embraced us while we were still works in progress.

Romans 5:8 reminds us: "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

Our unity doesn't come from uniformity. The Jewish and Gentile Christians in Rome didn't agree on everything, but they could still worship and break bread together because they knew they were all accepted by Christ.

This isn't an invitation to abandon truth or compromise the gospel. It's an invitation to extend grace to those who are still growing, just as grace was extended to us. When someone walks through the doors looking for Jesus, our response should be "welcome," not a list of requirements.

Many people today have no problem with Jesus—their problem is with Christians who live like they don't really believe. The world is watching to see if Christ is real in us.

Worship

Paul prays "that with one mind and one voice, you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Notice: unity in worship, not uniformity in opinion.

Something supernatural happens when God's people come together in worship. When young and old, rich and poor, people from every background lift their voices together, we experience a taste of heaven on earth. Despite our differences, disagreements, and diversity, we become one voice praising the God who saved us, sustains us, and is coming back for us.

The Root of Jesse

Paul references Isaiah's prophecy about "the root of Jesse"—a messianic title pointing to Jesus' lineage through King David's father. Isaiah prophesied that this root of Jesse would arise to rule over all nations, not just Israel. Gentiles included.

During Advent, we're not just anticipating Jesus' birth—we're anticipating His return. The One who came as a suffering servant will return as a conquering King. The One who died on a cross will come back wearing a crown. The One rejected by the world will be acknowledged as Lord by all creation.

That's our hope. Not because everything is perfect now, but because we know this isn't how the story ends. In the end, Jesus wins. Evil will be defeated. Every tear will be wiped away.

Until He comes, we have work to do: diving into the Word, welcoming one another, and worshiping the one true God in spirit and in truth. These are the foundations that will hold us together when storms of division threaten to tear us apart.

May He find us faithful to these foundations, living out the way He first showed us.

Stuck in the Middle - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

We find ourselves exploring Isaiah 2:1-5, a powerful vision given during one of Israel's darkest hours. The prophet received this word while Jerusalem faced political chaos, economic collapse, and the terrifying approach of the Assyrian empire. Yet in the midst of this turmoil, God revealed a future where the mountain of the Lord would be established, where nations would stream to learn God's ways, and where weapons of war would be transformed into tools for feeding people. This passage invites us to consider what it means to be 'stuck in the middle'—caught between God's promises and our present circumstances. We pray for healing that doesn't come, for peace that seems impossible, for justice that remains elusive. But this vision teaches us that the middle is exactly where God meets us. It's where our faith is tested and proven. The Hebrew phrase 'in the last days' actually means 'in the days to come'—not the end of the world, but God's perfect timing breaking into our imperfect present. When we walk in the light of the Lord now, we're not passively waiting for God to fix everything; we're actively learning God's ways and allowing transformation to begin in us. The same God who turned back the Assyrian army through unexpected circumstances is the same God who can redirect the forces coming against us today.

Caught Between Promise and Reality: Finding Light in the Middle

Life has a peculiar way of trapping us between two opposing forces. On one side stands the weight of our current circumstances—the bills that keep coming, the relationships that remain broken, the injustices that persist, the diagnoses that terrify. On the other side echo the promises we've heard from God—promises of provision, healing, justice, and peace. And there we stand, suspended in the tension, wondering if what God said will ever match what we see.

This is the space where faith either withers or deepens.

When Everything Falls Apart

The prophet Isaiah understood this tension intimately. He wasn't writing beautiful poetry from a comfortable position of peace and prosperity. For 44 years, he served as a prophet during some of the most turbulent times in Israel's history. The once-united kingdom had fractured into two nations—Israel in the north and Judah in the south—and both were struggling to survive.

The political landscape was a disaster. Leaders were making alliances with pagan nations instead of trusting God. They poured resources into military might, believing that bigger armies would save them rather than divine intervention. The economic situation was equally grim. War spending drained the treasury while ordinary people—farmers, merchants, craftspeople—bore the burden of their leaders' poor decisions. The wealth gap widened. The rich grew richer while the poor grew poorer.

Justice had become a commodity available only to those with money and power. The very people God commanded His followers to protect—widows, orphans, immigrants—were being exploited and oppressed. And internationally, the Assyrian empire was tearing through cities with brutal efficiency, leaving destruction in its wake. Every day brought news of another fallen city, another wave of refugees seeking asylum.

Sound familiar?

The Hypocrisy Problem

What made the situation even more painful was the religious hypocrisy. People showed up for worship. They knew the rituals, could recite the liturgy, sang the songs without needing a hymnal. From the outside, everything looked spiritually healthy. But step outside the sanctuary, and you wouldn't know these people had any relationship with God at all.

They had religion without relationship, form without substance, rituals without righteousness.

This is where God met Isaiah with a vision that seemed impossible given the circumstances.

A Vision That Defies Reality

Isaiah received a prophetic word about "the days to come"—not necessarily the end of the world, but God's perfect timing breaking into human history. And what he saw was revolutionary.

He saw the mountain of the Lord's house established and exalted. Not geographically—Mount Zion isn't actually the highest mountain—but spiritually. God's presence would be elevated above everything else: above politics, above economics, above international conflict, above all human systems and structures.

He saw people from all nations making pilgrimages to this mountain, singing songs of praise along the way. Not just the religious insiders, but everyone—Jews and Gentiles, cradle-to-grave believers and those who couldn't spell church. An all-welcoming God inviting everyone to come.

He saw God teaching people His ways so they could walk in His paths. Notice that God isn't called a king in this passage, but a judge and a teacher. The resolution isn't God fixing everything while we sit back passively. It's us going to God, learning from God, and walking in His ways.

And then comes the most striking image: weapons transformed into farming tools. Swords beaten into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks. Nation no longer taking up sword against nation. The instruments of death becoming instruments of life. Resources dedicated to destruction redirected toward nourishment and growth.

The Audacity of Hope

Here's what makes this vision so powerful: Isaiah proclaimed it while cities were falling around him. He spoke of peace in the middle of war, of justice during oppression, of transformation amid chaos.

This wasn't wishful thinking. It was prophetic preparation for the coming of Christ—the Prince of Peace, the one who would judge between nations not with a sword but with truth, the one who would teach God's ways through both His words and His life, death, and resurrection.

The light Isaiah saw wasn't a someday light or a far-off light. It was a light available to walk in right now, today. As John's Gospel declares: "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

Walking in the Light While Stuck in the Middle

The vision wasn't just about the future. It was a call to live differently in the present: "Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord." Not wait for the light. Not hope for the light someday. Walk in the light now.

And here's the remarkable thing: as the Assyrians marched toward Jerusalem, intent on destruction, a civil war broke out back in their homeland. They had to turn around and go home. The threat that seemed unstoppable was stopped by circumstances no one could have predicted.

Sometimes, when you walk in the light, enemies heading your way will inexplicably turn around and go home.

Walking in the light means choosing faith over fear, hope over despair, love over hate, justice over comfort. Every time you trust God in your present circumstance, you're walking in the light.

The "But God" Factor

We need to learn to put "but God" into our vocabulary. I'm broke right now, but God. I'm sick right now, but God. I don't know how it's going to work out, but God.

"But God" turns what people try to make a period into a comma. God isn't through with you yet. What God has in store for you exceeds anything you can imagine.

The middle—that uncomfortable space between promise and fulfillment—is exactly where God wants to meet you. The middle is where the vision comes, where faith is tested and proven, where you learn to walk in the light even when darkness surrounds you.

The End of the Story

The Bible is clear about how this story ends. Christ wins. We'll be walking in the light. We will see salvation.

Powers and principalities don't determine your future. God does. And when God delivers—and He will deliver—don't be afraid to dream big. Don't be afraid to believe that weapons in your life can be transformed into tools for feeding, that battles can come to an end, that political chaos can work out for your good.

You might be stuck in the middle today. But the middle is holy ground. It's where heaven meets earth, where the impossible becomes possible, where darkness gives way to light.

The light has already won.

Benedictus - Pastor Johnnie Simpson Jr.

This powerful exploration of Luke chapter 1 invites us to reconsider what it truly means to be blessed and saved. Through Zechariah's prophetic song over his newborn son John the Baptist, we discover that salvation—the Greek word 'sozo'—encompasses far more than just fire insurance for the afterlife. It's about the rescue and restoration of the whole person: body, soul, spirit, and circumstances. We're challenged to see that God's redemptive work addresses not only our eternal destiny but our present reality—our economic struggles, our social injustices, our physical needs, and our systemic oppression. The Benedictus reminds us that we serve a God whose tender mercy reaches into every corner of our existence. When we understand that John the Baptist came to prepare the way for a Messiah who would challenge political structures, feed the hungry, and advocate for the marginalized, we realize our calling extends beyond personal piety. We are a rescued people called to live without fear in holiness and righteousness, not through our own merit but through grace alone. This message compels us to ask: How are we participating in God's holistic salvation work in our communities today?

# The Tender Mercy of God: Understanding True Blessing

In the opening chapter of Luke's Gospel, we encounter a powerful moment of prophetic blessing that speaks directly to our understanding of what it means to be truly blessed. The passage known as the Benedictus—Zechariah's song after the birth of his son John—offers us a profound meditation on God's redemptive work and the nature of salvation itself.

## Beyond Fire Insurance

When we talk about salvation, we often reduce it to a transaction—a spiritual fire insurance policy that guarantees our eternal destination. But the biblical concept is far richer and more holistic than we typically imagine. The Greek word "sozo" encompasses not just the saving of souls for eternity, but the restoration and wholeness of the entire person—body, mind, spirit, and circumstances.

True salvation addresses the rumbling stomach as well as the searching soul. It speaks to the person sleeping on the sidewalk tonight, not just promising heaven tomorrow. It challenges unjust structures, advocates for the marginalized, and demands that we care about living wages, healthcare equity, and human dignity. The gospel message that saves is also the gospel message that transforms our present reality.

This comprehensive understanding of salvation reminds us that God cares about the whole person. We cannot separate spiritual well-being from physical, emotional, and social well-being. They are interconnected, and God's redemptive work touches every aspect of human existence.

## The Redeemer Who Comes Close

The concept of redemption in Scripture carries a beautiful intimacy. The redeemer was the nearest relative capable of paying off debts and freeing family members from slavery or bondage. This wasn't a distant benefactor writing a check from afar—this was family stepping in, getting close to the mess, and doing whatever it took to bring restoration.

God's redemptive work follows this same pattern. He doesn't save us from a distance. He comes near. He enters our world, our struggles, our pain. The promise to David and Abraham wasn't just about future deliverance—it was about God's faithful presence in the midst of occupation, oppression, and uncertainty.

When we understand God as our Redeemer in this way, it changes how we view our relationship with Him. He's not just the cosmic judge or distant deity—He's the close relative who shows up when we're in trouble, who pays what we cannot pay, who frees us from what binds us.

## Preparing the Way

John the Baptist's role was to prepare the way for the Messiah. He would live differently, speak boldly, and point consistently away from himself toward the One who was coming. His entire ministry was about making straight paths, removing obstacles, and helping people recognize the Savior when He arrived.

This preparatory work required courage. John would speak truth to power, call out injustice, and refuse to compromise the message even when it cost him everything. He understood that preparing the way wasn't about making people comfortable—it was about making them ready.

We too are called to this preparatory work. In our own contexts, we prepare the way when we remove obstacles that keep people from encountering Christ. Sometimes those obstacles are within the church itself—systems, attitudes, or practices that exclude rather than welcome. Sometimes they're in society—injustices that we must name and work to dismantle. Always, the work of preparation requires us to point beyond ourselves to Jesus.

## Blessed by Grace Alone

Perhaps the most liberating truth in this passage is the phrase "by the tender mercy of our God." Everything—the redemption, the salvation, the restoration—flows from God's grace, not our achievement.

You cannot earn your way into God's favor. No amount of religious activity, charitable giving, or moral perfection will make you worthy. The blessing comes not because of what we do, but because of who God is. His tender mercy is the source of every good thing.

This truth frees us from the exhausting treadmill of trying to prove ourselves. It allows us to rest in God's love rather than constantly striving for His approval. We serve God not to earn salvation but because we've already been saved. We live in holiness not to become acceptable but because we've already been accepted.

## What Does It Mean to Be Blessed?

Being blessed is different from being happy or lucky. Happiness depends on happenings—external circumstances that come and go. But being blessed is a deeper reality, a sense that your life is held within God's grace and purpose regardless of circumstances.

You are blessed when God speaks promises over your life—that you are the head and not the tail, above and not beneath, blessed coming and going. You are blessed when you know that no weapon formed against you will prosper, that weeping may last for a night but joy comes in the morning, that He who began a good work in you will complete it.

These blessings aren't contingent on your performance. They're declarations of God's commitment to you, spoken over you before you did anything to deserve them.

## Living as Rescued People

If we truly understand that we are a rescued people, saved by grace through the tender mercy of God, it should transform how we live. The passage calls us to "serve Him without fear in holiness and righteousness all our days."

This is the grateful response of people who know they've been set free. We serve not from obligation but from overflow. We live in holiness not to earn God's favor but to honor the One who has already favored us. We pursue righteousness not to prove ourselves worthy but because we've been made worthy by Another.

The blessing spoken over Zechariah's son ultimately pointed to the greater blessing spoken over all of us—that through Christ, we are redeemed, restored, and made whole. By His wounds we are healed. By His grace we are saved. By His tender mercy we are blessed.

This is the good news that changes everything: God has come near, paid the price we couldn't pay, and spoken blessing over our lives. Our response is simply to receive it, believe it, and live in the freedom it brings.