Grace Chapel Wilsonville

Some promises are like mirages, glimmering with hope, only to leave you empty. But when Jesus speaks, the promises hold. Mike unfolds the difference between living for God's favor and living from God's favor. When God's approval rests on you, striving gives way to rest. In a world flooded with noise, fear, and false hope, this message dares you to anchor your life in what doesn’t shake: God’s favor, God’s presence, God’s promises.

What if the foundation we’ve built our faith on isn’t the one Jesus had in mind? Mike traces the ache of a generation worn down by performance, shame, and spiritual striving—and reveals a deeper invitation. Jesus didn’t just promise a better life, but his life. The kind that flows from the inside out. Not hollow, not heavy—just real, renewing, and alive. This is where discipleship begins: not with doing more, but being made new.

When life presses hard and fast, we tend to reach for control, distraction, or performance. But what if the pressure is an invitation—not a punishment? Mike explores the deep, often-overlooked heartbeat of the whole Bible: abiding. Not a task list or a time slot, but a rooted way of being that produces lasting fruit—sometimes through crushing. Because in Jesus, even the pressure can pour out new wine.

We chase clarity, progress, and fruit—but what if the thing we’ve been reaching for was already within reach? Mike spent the summer drinking deeply from one passage, one truth: apart from Jesus, we can do nothing. Abiding slows the soul. It roots us in presence. In stillness. And from that place, something begins to grow—not from effort, but from union.

A pause where the story isn’t over. James ends his letter in that holy space, urging patience that endures, prayer that breathes life, and love that chases the wanderer. In the space between heartbreak and healing, frustration and fulfillment, he shows us what it means to live the next line in God’s unfinished sentence.

Wisdom isn’t about what you know—it’s how you live. Jen traces the thread from envy to chaos, from selfish ambition to rupture, and asks where our choices are really coming from. Are we reacting to protect ourselves, or responding from a deeper place? The wisdom from above is quiet, steady, and sincere—but it won’t chase us. It waits to be chosen, again and again. Even in conflict. Even when it costs us pride.

A single spark can torch a forest—and a single word can fracture a soul. Jake traces the quiet, explosive power of language, showing how every text, every joke, every offhand comment carries the weight of our inner life. Our words don’t just communicate; they create, shape, and reveal. From Genesis to Revelation, Scripture makes it clear: the tongue doesn’t just talk—it steers the entire ship. So…what story are your words telling?

Emma unpacks what James really means by a “faith that works”—not faith and works, but a kind of belief so alive it moves. Not stagnant. Not private. But the kind that flows outward—into love, sacrifice, and radical trust. Because real faith doesn’t just nod its head. It walks. It carries. It builds. It lives.

Skyler traces James’s sharp call to reject favoritism—not just in theory, but in how we treat others, especially when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable. In a world obsessed with influence, James reminds us: mercy—not status—is the true measure of faith. The question isn’t who’s worthy of our attention. It’s who needs our mercy.

Storms will come—Jesus promised that. But what if they don’t have to leave us wrecked? Jeff explores how our understanding of God and ourselves shapes whether we collapse or endure when trials hit. With clarity and tenderness, he asks: What if the deepest truths—God is good, and you are loved—are not just comforting ideas but the foundation that holds when everything else shakes?

Trials aren’t side notes in life; they’re the crucible where faith gets its edge. If our beliefs never show up in traffic, conflict, or compassion, are they really alive? With urgency and grace, Jake unpacks a faith that’s not theoretical but earthy and enduring. What if maturity isn’t about knowing more, but staying when it’s hard? Real faith doesn’t escape the fire. It’s shaped by it.