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.