Scripture draws a sharp contrast between self-ascent and God’s descent. Jacob dreams of a ladder with angels ascending and descending (Gen. 28), and Jesus declares that ladder is Himself—“you will see heaven open… upon the Son of Man” (John 1:51). Unlike Lucifer’s proud “I will ascend” (Isa. 14), Jesus says, “No one has ascended… but He who descended from heaven” (John 3:13). He descended to the lowest parts, then ascended to fill all things and give gifts (Eph. 4:8–10).

The gospel isn’t “climb higher”; it’s come to the One who came down. In Christ the heavens open, the Presence stands over us, and the promises are confirmed. Humility becomes the doorway, Jesus the ladder, and our lives the Bethel—the house of God and gate of heaven—where His gifts flow and His kingdom advances.

January is Sanctity of Human Life Month. We affirm what Scripture declares: God knows and forms every life (Jer. 1:5; Ps. 139:13–14). Our church doctrine reflects that conviction—life is God’s gift from conception to natural death. But Galatians 6:1–3 also tells us how to carry that truth: restore gently, bear burdens, and walk humbly.

Research shows many women chose abortion while still attending church—and most never told anyone. That must change. City on a Hill will be a House of Refuge: no gossip, no shaming—real help and hope. If you’re facing an unplanned pregnancy, we will listen, pray, and walk with you—connecting you to practical support and compassionate care. If abortion is part of your past, there is forgiveness, healing, and a future in Christ.

We hold the line on truth and open our arms with grace. In a culture divided, Jesus calls His church to be both clear and kind—to cherish every life and carry one another. You are seen, loved, and not alone.

John Chapter 6

2 Kings Chapter 4

An Experience Worth Talking About

People are still chasing rumors about the Ark—but Scripture shifts the question from “Where is the box?” to “Is my house ready to host the Presence?” David asked, “How shall the ark of the LORD come to me?” and when the Ark rested in Obed-Edom’s home, the whole household was blessed (2 Sam. 6:9–11).

Then the pattern appears again in the New Testament: Mary—carrying the Lord—steps into Elizabeth’s house and the baby leaps, the Spirit fills, and blessing is spoken (Luke 1:39–45). The point isn’t an artifact; it’s a Presence. Blessing doesn’t follow speculation; it follows welcome.

This message calls us to be modern Obed-Edoms: make room, honor His holiness, and believe—for “there shall be a performance of those things… from the Lord.” Open the door, lift the Name, and let your house become a threshold where joy leaps and the Presence rests.

This message reframes revival: God is drawn to need. When we’re “full” we forget (Deut. 8); when we say we “have need of nothing,” we grow lukewarm (Rev. 3). But from the void in Genesis, to the widow’s empty vessels (2 Kings 4), to “they have no wine” (John 2), to hungry crowds, to ditches in a dry valley (2 Kings 3), God moves wherever there is lack brought to Him in faith.

Jesus taught us to pray for daily bread—a posture of dependence, not performance (Matt. 6). So instead of asking for better lights, songs, or speeches, we bring Him our empty: broken, hurting, addicted. We gather vessels, dig ditches, and watch the One who “fills all in all” (Eph. 1:22–23) do what only He can do.

Less polish. More need.
Come hungry—and be filled.

From Genesis to Revelation, this message traced one scarlet thread: the Lamb. In the Old Testament, the patterns point forward—garments of skin in Eden, Abel’s lamb, Noah’s ark of sacrificed trees, the Passover lamb’s blood, the Day of Atonement, and Abraham on Mount Moriah. In the Gospels, the shadow becomes substance: “Behold, the Lamb of God”—identified by John, certified by the Father, vilified and crucified, then raised in power. Because Jesus was born a Savior, died as our atonement, and rose as Lord, our hope rests not in our goodness but in His blood.

The story culminates in Revelation 5: heaven thunders, “Worthy is the Lamb!” He alone opens the scroll; He has redeemed people from every nation and made us kings and priests. At Christmas—and always—we don’t worship a feeling or a tradition; we worship the Lamb who was slain and lives forever. Our salvation isn’t our plan B; it’s God’s finished plan. So we join the song of heaven: Worthy is the Lamb.

This message reframed repentance as running toward the Kingdom, not just away from sin. When you’re always looking back, you slow down and stumble; when you run headfirst toward the Father your walk becomes effective.

Jesus teaches us to realign: “Our Father… hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come” (Matthew 6:9–13). The Father has delivered us from darkness and translated us into the Kingdom of His Son (Colossians 1:13–14), so we walk worthy and let Him define our story—not the enemy. Parables separate fans from followers (Matthew 13:10–13); disciples choose to live by Him (John 6:54–57).

Fix your gaze forward, bear His Name, and live David’s doxology: “Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory.” (1 Chronicles 29:10–11) Run to the King—and watch your pace and purpose change.