Big Idea: Jesus Christ is not just a chapter in the story of God; He is the Author, the Hero, and the Ending. When we see Jesus for who He truly is, every other priority in our lives finds its proper place.

Today we begin a nine-week journey through the Book of Hebrews, a letter written to magnify the greatness of Jesus Christ. Hebrews isn’t primarily about religious rules, moral improvement, or spiritual techniques. It’s about Jesus—who He is and what He has done. Everything else flows from that foundation.

The original audience was likely Jewish Christians living under Roman rule, facing intense persecution. As pressure mounted, many were tempted to abandon their faith in Jesus and return to the familiarity and safety of traditional Judaism. Hebrews speaks directly into that tension with one clear message: Jesus is greater than anyone or anything that came before Him. To walk away from Him would be to walk away from the fulfillment of all God’s promises.

The author of Hebrews remains anonymous, one of the great mysteries of the New Testament. While Paul may have influenced it, the writing style is far more polished and rhetorically sophisticated than Paul’s letters. Hebrews chapter 1 proves this immediately. Verses 1–4 form a single, majestic sentence in the original Greek—an exordium, designed to grab attention with both beauty and weight.

Hebrews 1:1–4 (NLT) sets the stage:

In the Old Testament, God spoke in fragments—a dream here, a burning bush there, a prophet’s warning along the way. But in Jesus, God didn’t just send messages; He sent the Message. This is Christology—the study of the person and work of Jesus Christ—and Hebrews wastes no time getting to the point.

In verses 2–3, the author unleashes a rapid-fire description of Jesus using seven distinct attributes. In Scripture, the number seven represents completeness and perfection. Together, these form a full portrait of the Son.

Jesus is the Heir—the goal of history. God has promised everything to Him as an inheritance. History is not random; it is moving toward the coronation of King Jesus. He is the “why” behind all creation.

Jesus is the Creator—the architect of reality. Through Him, God made the universe. Jesus is not a created being; He is the source of all things. Nothing exists apart from His will.

Jesus is the Radiance—the shining glory of God. He doesn’t merely reflect God’s glory like the moon reflects sunlight; He radiates it. The Son is the visible manifestation of the invisible God—“Light from Light.”

Jesus is the Expression—the exact imprint of God’s nature. The Greek word charaktēr refers to a stamp or seal. Jesus doesn’t resemble God; He perfectly represents Him. To see Jesus is to see God.

Jesus is the Sustainer—the glue of the cosmos. He holds everything together by the power of His word. The universe doesn’t persist on autopilot; it endures because Jesus commands it to.

Jesus is the Savior—the cleanser of sin. When He purified us from our sins, the work was finished. Unlike Old Testament priests who never sat down, Jesus completed the work once for all.

Finally, Jesus is the Ruler—the seated King. He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven, a position of total authority. The victory is won.

Hebrews 1:4 reminds us that Jesus is far greater than angels, traditions, or anything else we might be tempted to trust. For believers facing hardship, this truth re-centers everything.

The message of Hebrews is clear:...

We live in a culture obsessed with control. Hustle harder. Plan smarter. Pray longer. If you do all the right things, life should cooperate. That’s the promise of hustle culture—and it’s incredibly seductive.

But Ecclesiastes offers a brutally honest response.

As we close our Ecclesiastes series, Qoheleth—the Teacher—pulls back the curtain on the illusion of control. Life “under the sun” is not a machine we operate; it’s a mystery we inhabit. And the more we try to control it, the more frustrated and disillusioned we become.

Earlier in the book, Qoheleth introduced us to two key ideas that shape everything else. First, his name—Qoheleth—means “Teacher,” the one who gathers people to tell the truth. Second, the word hevel—often translated “meaningless”—literally means vapor. Life is fleeting, unstable, and impossible to grasp.

Pleasure is hevel.

Wealth is hevel.

They’re not sins. They’re not gods. They’re gifts—but terrible masters.

In this final message, Ecclesiastes confronts three unavoidable realities of life: the uncontrollables.

We live under the illusion that we are in charge—especially in American culture. Ecclesiastes says otherwise.

Ecclesiastes 7:13–14 (NLT) says, “Accept the way God does things, for who can straighten what he has made crooked?”

The hardest truth for control-oriented people is this: God is God, and we are not.

Scripture teaches that God is sovereign—not just aware of events, but actively holding the universe together and directing history toward His purposes. Sometimes God acts directly. Sometimes He allows human choices. But even when He permits something, He never loses control.

God is the primary cause—the one with the plan and the power.

Humans are secondary causes—we make real choices with real responsibility.

The bottom line is humbling: you are not the scriptwriter of your life.

We assume life is a meritocracy—that the fastest, smartest, and hardest-working people always win. Ecclesiastes dismantles that assumption.

Ecclesiastes 9:11 (NLT) says, “The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race… It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time.”

Timing matters. Circumstances matter. Opportunity matters.

This doesn’t mean effort is pointless. In fact, Ecclesiastes affirms wisdom and preparation.

Ecclesiastes 10:10 (NLT) says, “Using a dull ax requires great strength, so sharpen the blade.”

Sharpen the blade. Work hard. Be wise.

But even then, outcomes are never guaranteed.

Ecclesiastes doesn’t call us to quit trying—it calls us to stop pretending we’re in control.

Some people are better at predicting the future than others. Many of them are rich. But it’s still a guess.

Ecclesiastes is clear: the future is unknowable, and death is unavoidable.

Ecclesiastes 8:7–8 (NLT) says, “No one really knows what is going to happen… None of us can hold back our spirit from departing.”

No amount of money, innovation, or optimism can stop time—or death. The human mortality rate remains a steady 100%.

That reality sounds dark until we realize what Ecclesiastes is doing: stripping away false hope so we can find real hope.

If we can’t control the Creator, the consequences, or the clock—what can we control?

Ecclesiastes ends with clarity.

Ecclesiastes 12:13–14 (NLT) says, “Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone’s duty.”

You can control your response to God.

Not your parents’ faith.

Not your spouse’s obedience.

Not your pastor’s integrity.

Yours.

To fear God means more than being afraid. It means awe,

We spend an enormous amount of our lives thinking about work and worrying about money. How much should we save? How hard should we hustle? Will we ever have enough?

The book of Ecclesiastes meets those questions head-on—with refreshing honesty.

Written by “the Teacher” (Qoheleth), Ecclesiastes doesn’t offer clichés or easy answers. Instead, it introduces us to a key idea that shapes everything else: hevel—a Hebrew word meaning vapor, smoke, or breath. Something real, but fleeting. Visible, but impossible to grasp.

Think of smoke. You can see it. It looks solid. But the moment you try to grab it, it slips right through your fingers. That, the Teacher says, is what money is like. It’s real and useful—but if you try to build your life on it, you’ll eventually discover you’re standing on nothing.

The Big Idea: Money is a helpful tool, but a horrible god.

Below are five timeless insights from Ecclesiastes that help us hold work and wealth with wisdom and humility.

Ecclesiastes is clear: work itself is not the problem. In fact, the Teacher calls it a gift.

Ecclesiastes 5:19 (NLT)

“And it is a good thing to receive wealth from God and the good health to enjoy it… this is indeed a gift from God.”

Notice where wealth comes from—from God. That means we are not the source of our wealth; we are stewards of it. The Bible never commands us to be poor, unemployed, or lazy. Instead, it consistently warns against idleness.

Work is good. Earning is good. Enjoying the fruit of your labor is good—when it’s received as a gift, not treated as a god.

While work is good, toil is not.

Ecclesiastes 4:6 (NLT)

“Better to have one handful with quietness than two handfuls with hard work and chasing the wind.”

There’s hevel again. Hustle culture promises fulfillment but often delivers exhaustion. When success steals your sleep, your joy, and your sanity, something is off.

The Teacher observes that those who work hard tend to sleep well—but the wealthy often lie awake at night, anxious and restless. More money doesn’t always mean more peace.

If money could satisfy the human heart, then having more would finally be enough. But Ecclesiastes says otherwise.

Ecclesiastes 5:10 (NLT)

“Those who love money will never have enough.”

The problem isn’t having money—it’s loving it. Wealth constantly promises happiness just one step ahead: a little more, a little better, a little bigger. But that finish line never arrives.

The New Testament echoes this wisdom, warning that the love of money leads to sorrow, spiritual drift, and deep regret. Money makes a terrible savior.

Here’s one of the most practical lessons in Ecclesiastes:

Ecclesiastes 6:9 (NLT)

“Enjoy what you have rather than desiring what you don’t have.”

Wealth can’t buy happiness—but what you already have can be enjoyed. Contentment isn’t getting everything you want; it’s learning to appreciate what God has already given.

Gratitude replaces coveting. Presence replaces comparison. Jesus reinforced this truth when he warned that life is not measured by how much we own.

Ecclesiastes repeatedly reminds us of a simple reality: we arrive with nothing, and we leave with nothing.

Ecclesiastes 5:15 (NLT)

“We can’t take our riches with us.”

This truth isn’t meant to depress us—it’s meant to free us. There are no hearses pulling U-Hauls. One second after you die, your net worth is...

Ecclesiastes has a way of cutting through our assumptions and exposing reality. Where Proverbs often presents life in clean cause-and-effect terms—do this and you’ll get that—Ecclesiastes responds with a sobering reminder: life isn’t that simple. This book gives us a clear-eyed look at life “under the sun,” meaning life as it exists in a fallen, broken world.

Last week, we were introduced to two key ideas that shape the entire book. The first is Qoheleth, the “Teacher,” whose reflections form Ecclesiastes. The second is hevel, a word translated “meaningless,” but more accurately understood as vapor or smoke—something fleeting, elusive, and impossible to grasp. The Teacher’s message is not that life has no value, but that life under the sun cannot bear the weight of our ultimate expectations. We were made for more than this world alone.

This week, the Teacher turns his attention to pleasure.

In the ancient world, pleasure was often elevated as the highest good. Today, we use words like hedonic to describe short-term, sensory enjoyment, and hedonism to describe the belief that pleasure should be the primary goal of life. The logic is simple: if it feels good, do it; if it hurts, avoid it.

That mindset feels especially familiar in modern culture. We chase experiences, comfort, entertainment, success, and romance with the hope that the next thing will finally satisfy us. Yet experience tells us something isn’t working. The more we pursue pleasure directly, the more restless we become.

Thousands of years before neuroscientists studied dopamine or psychologists described the “hedonic treadmill,” King Solomon ran a real-world experiment to see if pleasure could satisfy the human soul.

In Ecclesiastes 2:1–11 (NLT), Solomon describes his pursuit of pleasure in sweeping, exhaustive terms. He explored laughter and entertainment, concluding that constant amusement ultimately rang hollow. He turned to alcohol, attempting to numb the weight of life while still clinging to wisdom. He invested in massive building projects, vineyards, gardens, and infrastructure—accomplishments that would rival any modern empire.

He accumulated wealth, assets, and power beyond any king before him. He surrounded himself with music, beauty, and sexual pleasure, withholding nothing his heart desired. By every standard—ancient or modern—Solomon lived the dream. “Anything I wanted, I would take,” he writes. Ecclesiastes 2:10.

And yet, after surveying it all, his conclusion is devastating: “But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless—like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anywhere.” Ecclesiastes 2:11.

Once again, the word hevel appears. Vapor. Smoke. Nothing solid enough to build a life on.

Solomon’s conclusion mirrors what many experience today. Pleasure produces a genuine emotional spike, but it doesn’t last. Over time, what once felt exciting becomes ordinary. To feel the same rush again, we need more—more success, more stimulation, more affirmation. This cycle leaves us constantly chasing, but never arriving.

The problem isn’t pleasure itself. The problem is asking pleasure to do what it was never designed to do. Pleasure can enhance life, but it cannot anchor it. When we treat pleasure as ultimate, disappointment is inevitable.

When pleasure fails, some people swing in the opposite...

Ecclesiastes: A Brutally Honest Take on Faith

We’re kicking off a new series in one of the most surprising books in the Bible: Ecclesiastes. When we first mentioned it during our Christmas Eve services, some of you probably wondered, “Ecclesiastes? To start the new year?” But that question actually proves the point. Ecclesiastes meets us right where many of us already are—tired, questioning, and wondering if the things we chased were ever meant to satisfy us in the first place.

We’ve titled this series A Brutally Honest Take on Faith because Ecclesiastes doesn’t sugarcoat reality. It names the frustrations, disappointments, and injustices of life head-on. If you’re not paying attention, you might miss the point and assume the book is bleak or hopeless. But if you lean in, you’ll find something far more helpful: clarity, perspective, and hope grounded in God rather than circumstances.

Humanity has always asked the same questions we’re asking today: What’s the point? Why does so much effort feel so empty? Ecclesiastes reminds us that “there is nothing new under the sun.” We’re not the first generation to wrestle with disillusionment, and we won’t be the last.

Think about it—have you ever worked hard to achieve something, only to find it didn’t really satisfy? A promotion that felt anticlimactic. A dream vacation that still left you restless. Even incredible accomplishments can fall flat. After winning his third Super Bowl in five years, Patrick Mahomes famously said in a postgame interview, “We’re not done.” Even at the pinnacle, he was already looking ahead. Success under the sun never seems to be enough.

Before digging into the text, it helps to understand what kind of book Ecclesiastes is. The Bible tells one unified story, but it does so through many literary genres—history, law, prophecy, poetry, and wisdom. Ecclesiastes belongs to the wisdom literature, alongside Proverbs and Job. Within the ancient Near East, there was even a subgenre called pessimism literature. Ecclesiastes is the Bible’s only example of it. But unlike other ancient pessimistic writings, Ecclesiastes is not hopeless. It acknowledges life’s frustrations while still pointing us toward joy and meaning rooted in God and eternity.

Ecclesiastes opens like this:

Ecclesiastes 1:1–11 (NLT) – “These are the words of the Teacher, King David’s son, who ruled in Jerusalem.”

The “Teacher” is widely understood to be Solomon. His achievements, wisdom, and wealth align perfectly with what we know from 1 Kings and 2 Chronicles. The Hebrew title for the Teacher is Qoheleth, meaning one who addresses or gathers an assembly. It carries the sense of a seasoned king standing before his people saying, “Listen—I’ve tried it all.”

Solomon likely wrote Proverbs earlier in life—practical wisdom that describes how life generally works. But Ecclesiastes reads like wisdom forged in disappointment. It’s a no-nonsense response to the simplicity of Proverbs. Proverbs says, “Do this, and you’ll get that.” Ecclesiastes replies, “Life isn’t that simple.” The wisest man on earth had lived long enough to see that even true principles don’t always play out the way we expect.

That’s why Ecclesiastes resonates so deeply with our culture. Many of us feel wounded by unfairness, disillusioned by unmet expectations, or hurt by institutions—even the church. Ecclesiastes doesn’t dismiss those experiences. It validates them while redirecting our hope.

That leads us to the central idea of chapter one: a life focused only on what is temporary will always feel empty.

“Everything is meaningless,” the Teacher says. The Hebrew word is hevel—used nearly forty times in the book. It literally means “breath” or “vapor.” Life under the sun is thin, fleeting, and impossible to grasp. Interestingly,...

Failure is rarely a single event; often, it is a slow leak that bursts when we are most comfortable. This episode explores the dramatic fall and restoration of King David, a man who transitioned from a shepherd-warrior to a king, only to collapse under the weight of his own success. Through the lens of 2 Samuel 11 and David’s raw response in Psalm 51, we examine the anatomy of a "godly sorrow" that leads to true transformation. We learn that while failure can feel like a dead end, in the hands of a merciful God, it becomes a doorway to a re-created heart and a redeployed purpose. This is a powerful reminder that we aren’t defined by our worst moments, but by the grace that finds us in them.

Many people allow their worst mistakes to become their permanent identity. David, however, chose to name his sin without excuses.

1. Godly vs. Worldly Sorrow: Worldly sorrow regrets getting caught; godly sorrow grieves how sin breaks God’s heart (2 Corinthians 7:10).
2. Repentance is the doorway God invites you to walk through to escape the prison of your past.

David didn't shift the blame to his circumstances or other people. He looked inward and invited God’s scrutiny.

1. The Power of Exposure: While being "found out" is painful, it is an act of grace. God reveals what He intends to heal.
2. A teachable heart, as seen in Psalm 139, is the primary requirement for spiritual recovery.

True repentance is more than just stopping a bad habit; it is a request for a total spiritual overhaul.

1. The Act of Re-creation: In Psalm 51:10, David uses the Hebrew word for "create"—the same word used in the Genesis creation story. He isn’t asking for an upgrade; he’s asking for a new heart.
2. The Joy Indicator: A lack of joy is often a "dashboard light" signaling that we need God’s renewing touch.

God does not put forgiven people on a "spiritual bench." He uses their redeemed stories to reach others.

1. Your greatest failure, once surrendered, can become your greatest tool for ministry.
2. Psalm 51:13: David’s first instinct after restoration was to teach others God’s ways so they too could return.

1. 2 Samuel 11-12: The story of David, Bathsheba, and the confrontation by Nathan the prophet.
2. Psalm 51: David’s prayer of repentance and plea for a clean heart.
3. 2 Corinthians 7:10: The distinction between godly sorrow and worldly grief.
4. 1 Samuel 15:22-23: The contrast between Saul’s...

In this episode, we dive into the life of David during one of his darkest hours—the burning of Ziklag. We often expect God to lead us along the most efficient path to our dreams, but David’s journey proves that God prioritizes formation over fast-tracking. When exhaustion leads to compromise and our "safety nets" go up in flames, it isn't a sign of God’s absence, but a setup for His deliverance. This conversation serves as a powerful reminder that you are often closest to the promise right when the pressure is at its peak.

God’s route to His promises is rarely efficient—it’s fruitful. When Ziklag burns and hope falters, don’t quit. Strengthen yourself in the Lord, inquire of Him, and obey—you’ll find the promise is closer than you think.

1. The Danger of the "Almost": David settled in Ziklag (meaning "zigzagging") because he was tired of running. It felt like stability, but it wasn't the inheritance. Don’t confuse interim provision with your ultimate calling.
2. Unsubmitted Self-Talk: Discouragement begins when we stop listening to God’s voice and start "thinking to ourselves." When our inner narrative slips, we often drift into enemy territory.
3. The Anatomy of a Breakthrough: When David lost everything, he didn't just "tough it out." He modeled a four-step response to crisis:
4. Weep Honestly: Acknowledge the pain; God doesn't require fake strength.
5. Find Strength in the Lord: Shift from looking at circumstances to seeking communion.
6. Inquire of the Lord: Faith asks for direction rather than assuming the next move.
7. Obey Promptly: Movement follows the word of God.
8. The "Three-Day" Principle: While David was fighting his hardest battle in Ziklag, God was removing the obstacles to his throne in Israel. Your breakthrough is often happening behind the scenes while you are still under pressure.

1. 1 Samuel 27:1: David’s internal narrative and the move to Ziklag.
2. 1 Samuel 30:1–18: The raid on Ziklag, David’s distress, and the eventual recovery of all that was lost.
3. 2 Corinthians 4:16–18: Why we don’t give up; our light and momentary troubles are achieving eternal glory.
4. Isaiah 55:11: God’s word will not return void; it will accomplish what He desires.

Life is full of moments where we are "done dirty"—betrayed, slandered, or deeply wounded by those we trust. In this episode, we explore the life of David, a man who transitioned from a national hero to a hunted fugitive following the brutal betrayal of Doeg the Edomite. Through an in-depth look at Psalm 52, we uncover David’s blueprint for maintaining a clean heart in the midst of extreme injustice. Instead of letting bitterness take root, David shows us how to pivot from pain to praise. Whether you are currently walking through a season of "biblical lament" or struggling to forgive a past hurt, this episode offers five practical, gospel-centered steps to ensure that you don't just go through the hurt, but grow through it.

1. Take Your Pain to God: Before you tell people what happened, tell God. Use "biblical lament" to turn emotional chaos into prayer.
2. Make Room for God’s Justice: Relinquish the need for revenge. Vengeance chains you to your past, but entrusting justice to God sets you free to move forward.
3. Own Your Part: Being wronged doesn’t make us perfect. Use seasons of trial to ask the Holy Spirit to "search your heart" and reveal areas where you need to grow or repent.
4. Stay Planted While You Wait: Healing is a slow process, much like the growth of an olive tree. Stay rooted in worship, Scripture, and community during the "pruning" seasons.
5. Praise in the Midst of Pain: Don't wait for the resolution to worship. Declare God’s faithfulness even while the situation is still messy.

Reference

Key Insight

Psalm 52

David’s response to betrayal and his commitment to trust God.

1 Samuel 21-22

The historical context of David’s flight from Saul and Doeg’s betrayal.

Psalm 62:8

"Pour out your heart to him, for God is our refuge."

Romans 12:19-21

The command to never take revenge and to overcome evil with good.

Proverbs 4:23

The importance of guarding your heart above all else.

Psalm 139:23-24

A prayer for God to search our hearts and point out offensive ways.

Genesis 50:20

"You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good."

We conclude with the powerful story of Corrie ten Boom, a Holocaust survivor who faced one of her former prison guards years after the war. Her story reminds us that forgiveness isn't a feeling we manufacture, but a grace we access through Jesus. As Corrie famously demonstrated, extending the hand of forgiveness sets the prisoner free—only to realize the prisoner was you.