City Baptist Church Vancouver 3z2j6q

We live in a city that’s constantly changing—new buildings, new challenges, shifting values—but as followers of Jesus, we’re called to hold fast to something that never changes: our commitment to Christ and His church. In Acts 20, Paul looks into the eyes of men he loves and urges them not to waver—not when it’s hard, not when it hurts. He had every reason to quit, but instead he said, “None of these things move me.” That’s the kind of grit God is calling us to—deep, gospel-rooted commitment that won’t flinch when the world around us shakes. Because when we stay faithful in a changing world, we show the world a Savior who never changes.

Most of us are tempted to treat church like a flight—we find the seat we like, hope for some decent snacks, and settle in to be served. But Jesus flips that script completely. In John 13, He didn’t demand a platform—He grabbed a towel, knelt down, and served. That’s the kind of love He modeled, and that’s the life He calls us into—not a life of consumer Christianity, but one of humble, joyful service. Because in God’s upside-down kingdom, the path to greatness—and to true happiness—is paved with selfless love.

When the world feels fractured and faith feels faint, the church should shine brightest—not by our perfection, but by our unity. Jesus said the world would know we’re His by the way we love each other. That’s not some vague, feel-good idea—it’s a gritty, Spirit-empowered choice to stay committed, forgive freely, and lock arms in mission even when it's hard. Unity in the church doesn’t just reflect Jesus; it reveals Him. So let’s be the kind of people who love one another so deeply, the watching world has no choice but to wonder about the God who made it possible.

You weren’t made to sit on the sidelines—you were made for more. Jesus didn’t die and rise again to create a church full of spectators; He rose to build a body where every person matters, and every member plays a vital role. The local church isn’t a spiritual country club—it’s a living, breathing mission, and you have a place in it. When we step into the role God’s given us with hearts full of love instead of a sense of obligation, that’s when the church becomes unstoppable. So don’t just attend—belong, serve, and make it count.

Maybe you walked in today with doubts, grief, or even a little fear in your heart—but here’s the good news: the resurrection of Jesus changes everything. It takes grief and replaces it with joy, turns fear into peace, and transforms doubt into bold, living faith. Jesus didn’t just rise to make a theological point; He rose to meet you personally, right where you are. Just like He called Mary by name or stepped into that locked room with the disciples, He’s showing up today to remind you: “I’m alive, and I’ve got you.” The empty tomb means your story isn't over—it’s just getting started.

As Jesus neared the cross, He silenced the religious elite not with retaliation but revelation—revealing that their understanding of the Messiah was far too small. They expected a son of David; He revealed a Lord of David. And in that moment, the curtain was pulled back, and the eternal Son stood before them in flesh and humility. What mattered most was not their robes or rhetoric, but whether they saw and surrendered to the true and worthy Christ. His call then—and now—is not for performance, but for hearts that kneel before Him in awe, obedience, and trust. Scripture: Mark 12:35-44

Parenting has a way of pressing into the heart the kinds of questions that don’t just come from toddlers—but from the depths of the soul. In the endless “why” of our children, we catch echoes of our own restless curiosity before God. But Jesus, the Word made flesh, does not dodge questions—he welcomes them, exposes their motives, and answers with wisdom that silences accs and awakens seekers. He doesn’t just outsmart the clever; he woos the hungry with truth so rich it demands worship. In our questioning, we find not merely information—we find Christ himself, full of grace and truth. Scripture: Mark 12:13-34

God’s love is scandalous in its mercy, shocking in its patience, and stunning in its justice. He sent prophets—beaten. He sent warnings—rejected. And then, in unfathomable love, He sent His Son. The tenants killed Him, thinking they would gain, but in that very death, the cornerstone was laid—Jesus, rejected by men but chosen by God. This parable is not just Israel’s story—it’s ours, and it demands an answer: will we yield the fruit of repentance, or will we walk away from the vineyard, untouched by the weight of His grace?Scripture: Mark 12:1-12

When the road ahead looms large with mountains we cannot move, and the weight of our fears presses down like a storm, Jesus whispers still: Have faith in God. Not faith in our own resolve or in the strength of our belief, but in the God who speaks worlds into being and bends the arc of history toward redemption. He is not threatened by our impossibilities—He delights to work through them, even when they tear us open and leave us clinging to mercy. The call to forgive, to surrender authority, to trust His unseen hand—these are not burdens, but pathways into deeper joy, because they draw us closer to the One who gave Himself for us. Faith in God is not simply belief; it is resting our whole weight on the only One strong enough to bear it. Scripture: Mark 11:22-32

Jesus, the sovereign King, rides into Jerusalem—not on a warhorse, but on a humble colt, a King of peace rather than conquest. The crowd cries, "Hosanna," but their lips soon betray their hearts, for worship without surrender is empty noise. The fig tree stands lush with leaves but bears no fruit, a vivid picture of religious pretense that lacks true spiritual life. And in the temple, Jesus overturns tables, confronting a worship that had become commerce, a faith hijacked by greed. The lesson is clear: Jesus does not seek outward appearances but hearts truly surrendered to Him—hearts that bear fruit, worship in spirit and truth, and embrace His refining hand rather than resist it. Scripture: Mark 11:1-19

Jesus walks through Jericho for the last time before His journey to the cross, and in the crowd of voices, a blind man cries out, desperate for mercy. The world, as it often does, tells him to be silent, to settle for his brokenness—but he refuses. He cries louder, and Jesus, the King on His way to die, stops. In this moment, we see the heart of our Savior: undistracted by the weight of His coming suffering, He listens, He calls, He heals. And the blind man, now seeing, does what every redeemed soul must do—he follows Jesus on the way. Scripture: Mark 10:46-52

Jesus, the King of Glory, marches toward Jerusalem with unwavering resolve, His heart set on the suffering that will purchase our redemption. He does not seek a throne of power, but a cross of shame—an act that turns the world’s definition of greatness on its head. In a moment of tragic irony, His disciples, blinded by ambition, grasp for status, failing to see that true greatness in God’s kingdom is found in servanthood and sacrifice. Yet Christ, ever patient, calls them—and us—not to rule, but to serve; not to grasp, but to give. For in His kingdom, the first are last, and the greatest are those who lay down their lives for the sake of others. Scripture: Mark 10:32-45

The kingdom of God belongs to those who come to Him with empty hands and childlike trust, not those weighed down by their own self-sufficiency. Jesus, in His wisdom, shatters the illusion that wealth and power secure our place in eternity—instead, He calls us to release our grip on the temporal and cling to Him alone. The rich young ruler, though moral and accomplished, missed eternal treasure because his heart was tethered to fleeting riches. Yet, for those who forsake all for Christ, there is an abundance beyond measure, not just in eternity but even now, in the fullness of knowing Him. The question for us today is not simply what we possess, but whether what we possess has begun to possess us. Scripture: Mark 10:13-31

Marriage is not a mere social contract or a fleeting human arrangement—it is a divine covenant, a sacred gift from God, designed for our joy and His glory. From the very beginning, God established the union of man and woman, not as something to be discarded at convenience, but as a lifelong bond reflecting Christ’s love for His Church. In a world that trivializes commitment and exalts self-gratification, we must that biblical marriage is not about personal fulfillment alone but about faithfulness, sacrifice, and the pursuit of holiness together. And yet, for those who have experienced the pain of broken vows, the grace of Christ is greater than our failures—He is the Redeemer who restores, the Healer who binds up the brokenhearted. So whether you are single, married, or have walked through the valley of divorce, let us uphold the sacredness of marriage and trust that God’s design, though often tested, is always good. Scripture: Mark 10:1-12

In the darkest valleys of loss and suffering, when the weight of this world presses heavy, the gospel stands as an unshakable anchor. Peter, writing to a persecuted church, reminds us that our faith is no myth, no cunningly devised fable—it is the surest reality, rooted in history, attested by eyewitnesses, and fulfilled in Christ. The righteousness we could never achieve is freely given in Him, and the promise of His return burns brighter than the morning star. This world is but a tent, a fleeting dwelling, yet we live in the tension of the now and the not yet, where our hope is fixed on the day when the King returns to make all things new. Until then, we take heed, we press on, and we hold fast to the word that will never fail. Scripture: 2 Peter 1

Christianity does not rest on myths or empty traditions—it stands or falls on a historical event: the resurrection of Jesus Christ. If Christ did not rise, our faith is in vain, our sins remain, and death is the final word (1 Corinthians 15:17). But if He did rise, then everything changes—death is defeated, sin is conquered, and hope is eternally secured. The weight of history, the testimony of eyewitnesses, and the unshakable transformation of the disciples all point to one glorious reality: Jesus lives. And because He lives, our labor is not in vain, our faith is not empty, and our eternity is not in question.

The reliability of Scripture is not a blind leap of faith—it is an anchor grounded in history, archaeology, and careful preservation. The same God who spoke the universe into existence has sovereignly ensured that His Word has been accurately transmitted through generations. Every tested claim—whether in prophecy, historical figures, or manuscript evidence—confirms what the Bible declares about itself: that it is God-breathed and profitable for all of life. Legends take centuries to form, but the Gospels were written within the lifetimes of eyewitnesses who could or challenge their truthfulness. We do not trust the Bible merely because it claims to be true; we trust it because, time and again, it proves to be true.

The Christian does not fear truth, because all truth belongs to God. Science is not the enemy of faith; it is the study of the world God created, a world that unmistakably bears His fingerprints. When we look at the fine-tuning of the universe, the complexity of life, and the moral law written on human hearts, we see not randomness, but intentionality—design pointing back to the Designer. The heavens declare His glory, and every discovery, when rightly understood, only deepens our awe of the One who spoke it all into existence. If science is the pursuit of what is true, then it will never conflict with the Author of truth Himself.

Doubt is not the enemy of faith—unchecked doubt is. The Christian life is not about avoiding questions but about pressing into them with confidence that the truth will hold. Deconstruction, as our culture frames it, often leads to a hollow skepticism, not a stronger faith, because it assumes that tearing down is always better than building up. But the gospel offers something greater: not just the demolition of weak foundations, but the reconstruction of a faith that is tested, refined, and anchored in the unshakable reality of Christ. If you are wrestling with doubt, don't walk away—lean in, press on, and discover that the deepest faith is often found on the other side of honest questions.

Christianity is not just true—it is profoundly, inescapably good. In a world fractured by self-interest, injustice, and suffering, the gospel of Jesus Christ stands as the one unshakable force of restoration, not merely calling us to righteousness but transforming lives, healing wounds, and redefining what it means to be human. The love of Christ has shaped history, elevating the dignity of the weak, driving out oppression, and anchoring the weary soul in unshakable hope. It is not blind tradition or empty religion that has changed nations and hearts, but the radical, self-giving love of the One who laid down His life and conquered the grave. In Him, we find not only the deepest truth but the highest good—an unrelenting grace that heals, restores, and makes all things new.