We are nearing the end of our third year of teaching Godly Play, a unique and innovative way to foster the innate spirituality of our children by storytelling the Bible and wondering with them about the meaning of the stories. The 14 children who were in pre-kindergarten during that inaugural year will soon be transitioning from 1st grade to the older classroom for 2nd-5th graders. And we will then welcome our newest four-year-old pre-kindergarten students into our magical classroom of Godly Play.
 
One of the first things they will learn is that we have a “feast” each week before our closing prayer and blessing. This feast is provided by our wonderful neighbors in the Fellowship classroom--a juicy halo tangerine, which they learn how to peal. They will also quickly notice the big round calendar that looks like a clock hanging in the room, with green, red, purple and white shapes around the perimeter and one hand like a clock in the middle. This is our liturgical year calendar and will move us through the year beginning with the creation.
 
Old Testament stories follow in our “desert (sand) box”, and the ways that people of God “got close to God” and learned about His will for us through prophets and without the benefit of the Holy Bible. Then we experience the mystery of Christmas with our Advent stories, and begin the new year learning about Jesus, his parables and life, followed by Lent and Jesus’ death. We now begin lessons about how “the twelve” were equipped to carry Jesus’ ministry to others, through Pentecost and the gift of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
 
It is such a natural cycle that explains why Jesus is born and dies every year, and why we continue to learn and understand anew, each time we experience these wonders. Once this foundation is laid there are extension and enrichment second-tier stories that bring us deeper into the Bible and acquaint us with all of the other people who encountered God and have lessons to teach us from their actions, both in following God’s direction for their lives, and in failing to listen to Him.
 
This is just the beginning for these little ones, to grow in both their love and relationship with the Trinity, and in experiencing regular Bible study with their church family. If you have a rising pre-kindergartener or would like to know more about our Godly Play program and how you could volunteer to walk alongside our precious children, please contact me at cmerritt@northbrookumc.com. I’d love to meet with you.
 
Peace and blessings,  
Christy Merritt
Coordinator of Godly Play

A few weeks ago, Leslie led our children’s sermon on John 11 and the story of Lazarus. She talked with the children about something simple and deeply true--everyone cries. Even Jesus cried. Even people of faith cry. Tears are part of being human, and they are part of loving deeply.

My son Jonah was sitting right next to her and wanted to talk more. In that quiet and patient way Leslie always does, she gently walked him back to his seat and took time to listen to what he was trying to say. I didn’t know what he was talking about in that moment, but later I learned that he had been telling her about his great-grandfather’s funeral which we watched online back in January. It has been his first experience with loss that he will remember. Leslie made space for him to share his grief in the middle of a busy Sunday morning, simply by listening.

I then preached a sermon on John 11. At the end of the service, Jonah came up to me with a question.
“Why did you say it so many times? ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died?’” It was such an honest question.

I told him that everyone experiences hurt and loss, and when we hurt, we often ask God why. We repeat those questions because grief has a way of circling back again and again. Martha says it. Mary says it. The community feels it. The same words echo because the pain is real.

“Lord, if you had been here…”
Good Friday is filled with the same kind of questions.
Why did this have to happen?
Where was God in the suffering?
Why does death still touch the people we love?
Why does pain seem to come so close to home?

On Good Friday, we stand at the cross with those same questions. We see Jesus suffering. We see loss, grief, injustice, and death. We hear the cries of the world and the cries of our own hearts. And we are reminded that God does not stand far away from our pain. In Jesus, God enters fully into it.

Jesus weeps at Lazarus’ tomb.
Jesus cries out from the cross.
Jesus knows our grief from the inside.

That is why Good Friday matters. It reminds us that God hears every “Lord, if you had been here” that we whisper or shout. God is present in our sorrow, even when we cannot see it. It allows us to gather together and patiently listen to each other's confusion, hurt and pain.

And yet, Good Friday is not the end of the story.

 Easter is the time we celebrate Jesus’ triumph over the hurt. Easter is the promise that grief does not have the final word, that death does not win, that tears will one day be wiped away. The cross is real, but so is the resurrection.
Today, as we remember the cross, we hold both truths together: the pain is real, and so is the hope.

If you find yourself asking God why, you are not alone.
If you find yourself grieving, you are not alone.
If you find yourself waiting for Easter, you are not alone.
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God is present in every tear, every question, and every quiet moment of grief—and God is already at work bringing new life.

Grace and peace this Good Friday,
Rev. Kena Newkirk
Associate Pastor, Discipleship and Family Ministries

I stepped into a classroom last week and noticed several students gathered at the clay table. I sat down to watch, captivated by their deep engagement. As a Reggio-inspired preschool, clay plays an essential role in our classroom. It is one of the “Hundred Languages,” a medium through which children bring their drawings, ideas, and visions to life.
 
As they worked, the children spoke naturally with one another, describing their creations and asking for tools. One little boy muttered about needing more “slip”—the watered-down clay used to help pieces adhere. He carefully rolled out a long, snake-like coil and attempted to attach it to another piece. When the result didn’t meet his expectations, he quickly grabbed both sections, smooshed them together, and rolled them into a ball. Undeterred, he began again, reshaping his idea and thinking aloud about what he might create next.
 
Nearby, another child had been forming a cat. After a moment of laughter with a friend about its shape, she reconsidered and confidently declared it a horse instead. I was struck by the children’s creativity and their intuitive understanding of the clay. Even more, I was moved by their persistence, their willingness to begin again and their determination to transform a stubborn gray lump into something meaningful and beautiful.
 
As I observed, I was reminded of Book of Isaiah 64:8: “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” In that moment, I reflected on my own life and was reminded that neither the joys nor the challenges I face are random. God is continually shaping, molding, and refining me into who He intends me to be.
 
I pray that I remain malleable and open—willing to be guided, even when the process is
uncomfortable or unclear. Like clay pressed and reshaped, it can be painful to be stretched in one direction or broken in another. Yet I trust in His hands. As Isaiah reminds us, God is a loving Father, carefully forming each of us with purpose and care.
 
What He is creating in me is still unfolding, but I trust that it will be something as meaningful and beautiful as the creations I witnessed that day at the clay table.
 
Grace and peace,  
 Jennifer Sawicki
Director of Northbrook Preschool

I love order. When I read the creation story in Genesis—how God created the world with intention and order and then declared, “It is good”—my heart smiles. I picture everything in its place, everything working together as it should. I try to project this same order into my own life, embracing simplicity, a reasonable schedule, discipline, and love. Oh, how I try (and oh how my husband sits back and laughs).
 
But life gets in the way. Adult children move back home after graduating from college. Aging parents need help navigating the challenges that come with growing older. My own health issues demand attention. And sometimes life throws unexpected surprises—like a flooded basement after the water heater leaked fifty gallons of water and sat that way all weekend while we were away celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. All of it challenges my attempts to maintain discipline, order, and love in my own life. At best, I sit back and laugh. At worst, I contemplate quitting and running away to a small town in Alaska, leaving no forwarding address and disabling my cell phone.
 
During this season of Lent, I have been reading A.W. Tozer’s The Pursuit of God and Henri Nouwen’s The Way of the Heart. Tozer writes that we should “direct [our] heart’s attention to Jesus.” Distractions may pull us away, but when our hearts are committed to Him, our attention returns again and again—like a wandering bird returning to its window. Nouwen reminds us that while temptations and struggles will remain throughout our lives, with a pure heart we can still find rest even in the midst of a restless existence.
 
Life may never fully cooperate with our plans for order and balance. But when our attention continually returns to the Lord, we discover a deeper kind of peace—one not dependent on circumstances but grounded in His presence.
 
Prayer: Lord, when life feels disordered and overwhelming, gently draw my attention back to You. Help me rest in Your presence and trust You with every unfinished task, every worry, and every unexpected turn. Lord, please help me embrace life’s fearful mess with Your love and peace. Amen.

Yours In Christ,
Lauren Fain
​Financial Director

As we continue our journey through Lent, let us remember that this is a sacred season of reflection, repentance, and renewal. These forty days invite us to slow our pace, quiet our hearts, and listen more closely for the voice of God. In worship, you may notice that the music becomes simpler and contemplative, while the more joyful refrains wait patiently for Easter morning. Even these musical changes help guide us through this holy season. We sing of grace, mercy, and the cross. We allow minor keys and quieter melodies to create space for prayer. In many ways, this season reminds us that faith is not only expressed in triumphant songs, but also in whispered prayers and reflective harmonies.
 
As Palm Sunday, Holy Week and Easter approaches, I, along with the Northbrook Chancel Choir, would like to extend to you a special invitation to join us on a musical journey to the cross.
 
Palm Sunday is when we remember Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. The crowds waved palm branches and cried, “Hosanna!” welcoming Him as King. Our chancel choir and children’s choir will echo that ancient praise with joyful hymns and anthems that proclaim Christ as King.
 
As the week unfolds, we journey through the solemn remembrance of the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, where Jesus shared the bread and cup with His disciples and gave the command to love one another. Even though we will not meet for a Maundy Thursday service this year, I encourage you to spend time reading and reflecting on The Passion scriptures.
 
On Good Friday, we pause at the cross, reflecting on Christ’s great sacrifice and the depth of God’s love poured out for humanity. The music for this service is intentionally solemn, mournful and deeply prayerful. We are invited to stand at the foot of the cross and reflect on Christ’s ultimate display of love. Through hymns, meditative anthems, and moments of silence, the music helps us enter the sorrow and sacred mystery of the day. It does not rush toward resolution but lingers in the weight of love poured out for us, allowing our hearts to fully feel the depth of the cross before the joy of Easter dawns.
 
Then comes the joy of Easter morning! On Easter Sunday, we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. The tomb is empty. Death is defeated. Hope is alive! This is a day when music seems to burst forth with resurrection joy! Trumpets sound, voices rise, and we sing the great hymns of the faith proclaiming that Christ is risen indeed. The message of Easter is not just spoken, it is sung with conviction and hope. The same power that raised Christ from the dead brings light into our darkness, peace into our worry, and strength into our weakness.
 
One of the many joys of my ministry at Northbrook is witnessing the profound devotion and energy each musician brings to our worship. Whether they are lifelong members or guests joining for the Easter season, their talent is matched only by their love for the One we celebrate. As always, it is my prayer that as you join us in song, you will find peace, encouragement, discernment, and renewed joy throughout this holy season.
 
Grace and peace,  
Dr. Chad Hunt
Director of Worship & Music

During this Lenten season, I have found myself reflecting on the idea of beginning again. Lent invites us into a rhythm of consistency, returning to prayer, reflection, and repentance day after day. Faith may be born in a single dramatic moment, but a faith that is unwavering in the hardest of times requires something extraordinary. More often than not, it is formed through the quiet and faithful decision to come back to God again and again, trusting that His grace meets us each time we return.
 
That rhythm of returning has caused me to reflect on the journey that brought me here. I grew up in a family that carried the weight of poverty, addiction, and brokenness. Those realities leave marks on a person, and for a long time I carried many of those burdens with me. Looking back now, I can see how easily my life could have followed the same paths that shaped the generations before me. Yet through God’s provision and the people He placed in my life, those patterns did not have the final word. Over time, the Lord began the slow and faithful work of breaking cycles and making a new path forward. What once felt like generational curses slowly became opportunities for healing and redemption.

Along that journey there were seasons when the road felt especially dark. There were moments when my daughter was on the brink of death, times when fear and uncertainty felt almost unbearable. In those moments, God’s presence sometimes felt like a small candle in a dark, dark room. The light did not always remove the darkness immediately, but it reminded me that I was not alone. That small flame was enough to point me toward hope and to remind me of God’s steadfast presence, even when the path ahead was difficult to see.
 
Experiences like these are why the message of Lent feels so meaningful to me. Lent reminds us that faith is not about having everything perfectly figured out. Instead, it is about continually returning to the One who is already reaching toward us. Recently Rev. Jennie said something that has stayed with me: “God has already done all the heavy lifting.” Those words capture the heart of the Gospel. The grace, mercy, love, and peace we long for are not things we must earn. They are gifts already given through Christ.
 
Because of that truth, no matter where you find yourself today or what circumstances surround you, the invitation remains the same. We are always invited to begin again. God’s grace meets us right where we are, and His faithfulness carries us further than we could ever go on our own.
 
It is my prayer that during this Lenten journey you would experience that truth deeply, and that the God who has been faithful before will continue to walk with you now.
 
Grace and peace,  
Chance Passmore
Modern Worship Leader
 

​Lent in the Garden: The Birds, the Bees, and Jesus

No, no, not those birds and bees. The actual birds and the bees, friends. Before I even started writing this, I found myself longing to discuss spring and Lent. Both seasons arrive together, and both seem to stir up something beneath the surface. Spring brings everything bursting back to life—beautiful, blooming, hopeful—but also reminds us that renewal is not always comfortable. For many of us, spring means scratchy noses, watery eyes, and the irritation of allergies. In the same way, Lent can be a time that unsettles us but also invites us to reflect, change, and deepen our faith. Just as nature begins to wake up, Lent gives us an opportunity to seek genuine spiritual renewal, shaking us out of old patterns and calling us to experience God in a fresh way. So here’s the question I kept returning to: What does it mean to choose something deeper than distraction or surface-level rituals, and to seek real renewal in this season—when everything outside and inside us is being stirred up?

There’s no better comparison of nature’s spring than to the Lenten season (the old English translation of lencten is in fact “spring”). Lent is intended to be a time of reflection and renewal, a period to prepare our hearts, minds, and spirits for Easter, much like what happens in our gardens during spring. And by the way, the rebirth of my garden is a sight to see. In the winter, it’s all snappy twigs and bald patches that need a good mulching. Not beautiful by any means. The beauty is knowing that while the plants lie dormant, their root systems continue to deepen their connection to the earth by navigating the cold soil (well, clay). Just this week, I pressed my hands into the cold soil, the dirt packed tight under my fingernails, and pushed aside the tangle of last year’s leaves to reveal the first pale red peony shoot stubbornly breaking through. Spring is coming. And just like this long spring garden metaphor, the purpose of Lent isn’t what it seems on the outset. It’s not just about giving up coffee, chocolate, or Amazon shopping for six weeks. It’s the act of allowing ourselves to go a little dormant, to pull back and let the roots of our faith deepen and strengthen.

Perhaps the reason this particular Lenten season means so much to me is that it is actually my first time assigning myself a discipline, or something I must “give up.” That’s right. I was born into a Christian family and have been one my entire life, but we never participated in Lent. Choosing a discipline proved quite challenging for me. I had decision paralysis: where to begin? Drinking too much coffee, indulging in chocolate more often than I care to admit, scrolling social media—all excellent disciplines to choose for Lent. But giving something up is just one side of the story. This season can also be about adding something life-giving—daily scripture reading, writing a note of encouragement to a friend each week, or setting aside time for reflection. I really like referring to this devotion as a discipline, because that’s what it is: selecting a goal and adhering to behaviors and habits that help us succeed. The real discipline is not just taking something away; it’s putting God in its place.

Distraction is an everyday struggle for so many of us, and it can feel discouraging when our intentions and actions don’t always align. But even in these imperfect moments, God’s grace is present. The beauty of Lent and of our faith is not in flawless discipline, but in returning to God again and again, however messy the process. If you find yourself struggling, take heart: God welcomes our best efforts with compassion and meets us wherever we are.

Can we assign ourselves a discipline, let go of something we habitually repeat for that quick dose of dopamine, and instead fill that time with prayer, stillness, and preparing our hearts for the truth of Easter? Can we give something up in the name of pursuing a closer relationship with Jesus? Can we demand orderliness of ourselves to spend a little more time with God? 

I am looking forward to continued renewal through this Lenten season, both for my soul and my garden. I’m nurturing my faith and making space for attentive, thoughtful prayer. I’m going to show myself grace when I inevitably falter. There will be plenty of moments where old habits creep back in. When I slip up and lose track of my intentions, I plan to acknowledge it, forgive myself, and start again—reminding myself that renewal is a journey, not a pass-or-fail test. If you, too, stumble on your discipline, try to pause, breathe, and return to your practice the next day, even if it’s in a small, simple way. 

Praying that you find deeper meaning in your devotion this Lenten season.

​Yours in Christ!

Chelsea Spits
Director of Children's Music

Our Heavenly Father is all powerful, all knowing, and all loving. He has supreme power and authority over all creation. He has knowledge of all things--past, present and future. He is the source of all goodness. For centuries, God has used his attributes to work with men who didn't seem to qualify for the task. These men were used despite their mistakes and limitations, displaying the power and authority of our almighty Creator.
 
Moses was a stutterer with a violent past. He was a murderer and unwilling to follow God's instructions. Yet he led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. He guided them through the wilderness for 40 years and delivered the laws of God to Israel.
 
David was a young, overlooked shepherd boy unlikely to be selected king by men. Yet he was chosen by God to be one. He conquered Jerusalem and united the tribes of Israel and Judah. He also made preparations for the temple to be built by his son Solomon.
 
Peter was an impatient fisherman who denied Jesus three times yet became a fundamental leader of the early church. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he performed miracles and brought the gospel to both Jews and Gentiles. Peter wrote two books in the New Testament and was a key witness to Jesus’ ministry, resurrection and ascension into heaven.
 
And then came Paul. God transformed Paul through a dramatic encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. Instantly he was turned from a persecutor of Christians into an apostle of faith. He was redirected from destroying the church to spreading the gospel. Paul went on to write much of the New Testament.
 
God uses imperfect people to accomplish His will. I am imperfect and so are you. We don't want to stay this way, so we strive for perfection through his mercy and grace. Even with the imperfections in and around us, we can feel his heart, know his touch and enjoy his grace. Just as God led Moses, David, Peter and Paul; He will overlook our imperfections and take us places beyond our reach. Blessings to all!
 
In Christ,
Jerome Young
Facilities Manager
 

 I am genuinely heartbroken at how divided our country has become!
 
And what makes this even more painful is that our country is desperate for leadership that will bring healing and unity, but instead, we have leadership that thrives on division. Rather than calming tensions, naming our shared humanity, or “calling us toward our better angels” as Abraham Lincoln said, our leaders continue to say and do things that inflame fear, deepen resentment, and pit us against one another. Division isn’t being challenged; it’s being rewarded.
 
That matters very much because when those at the top model contempt instead of compassion, outrage instead of responsibility, it gives permission for the rest of us to do the same. And far too often, Christians fall right in line, mistaking loyalty to power for faithfulness to God.
 
If we’re waiting on politicians to save us, we’ve already missed the point. Unity was never going to come from the White House. It was always supposed to come from the Church; from people shaped by love, humility, repentance, and courage. But that requires us to stop echoing division and start embodying the way of Jesus.
 
And yet…
 
People are losing their minds over Bad Bunny, a wildly successful Latino artist, a U.S. CITIZEN, performing on one of the biggest stages in the world. And let’s be honest about what’s really bothering some folks: it’s not the music. It’s not the performance. It’s who he is.
 
What’s almost funny, if it weren’t so sad, is how angry people are over a performance that was truly amazing. It was beautiful. It was joyful. It was full of culture, rhythm, pride, and artistry. Nothing about it was threatening… unless you already feel threatened by cultures that aren’t centered on you.
And honestly, none of this is new.
 
Every year, many Christians seem to find something to be outraged about when it comes to the Super Bowl. A few years ago, it was Black athletes kneeling during the national anthem in peaceful protest of police brutality. Those protests were dignified, nonviolent, and deeply Christian in their moral vision for justice; calling a nation to live up to its own stated values. And yet what I heard from many Christians, what I even heard from the pulpit, was some of the most vitriolic, angry, dehumanizing rhetoric imaginable. Not curiosity. Not compassion. Just outrage baptized as faith.
 
The hypocrisy is exhausting.
 
The same people who rage about a Latino artist being celebrated will gladly walk into a Mexican restaurant, order tacos and margaritas, enjoy Spanish music, and consume the culture without a second thought. Culture is acceptable when it’s convenient. When it entertains. When it stays “in its place.” But the moment that culture is honored, centered, and celebrated on a national stage, suddenly it’s a problem.
 
Then out comes the “All-American” language.
 
And let’s be clear about that rhetoric. “All-American” has been used before. Just like the Roman’s 13 that folks like to throw around. It was used to justify segregation. It was used to exclude Indigenous people from their own land. It was used to shame civil rights leaders for bringing “politics into faith.” It has always been a tool, not of unity, but of control.

Because when many people say they want something “All-American,” what they usually mean is white and Christian.
Not diverse.
Not multilingual.
Not inclusive.
 
That has nothing to do with Jesus.
 
This pattern isn’t about protecting faith. It’s about protecting comfort. Instead of engaging culture with humility, curiosity, and compassion, we demand that it bow to our preferences. We baptize our outrage, call it “righteous anger,” and convince ourselves we’re defending God, when in reality, we’re defending our idols: control, power, and the illusion of moral superiority.
 
Take and moment and imagine how powerful it would be if all the money, energy, and outrage poured into creating a self-congratulatory “Christian alternative” were redirected toward actually doing the things Jesus commanded: feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, caring for the poor, welcoming the stranger, and loving our neighbors in tangible ways. That would look far more like the Gospel than a protest disguised as worship.
 
As a Christian, I find this deeply unchristian.
 
Jesus never told us to fear other languages.
He never told us to reject other cultures.
He never told us to love our neighbor only if they look like us, worship like us, or make us comfortable.
 
If a joyful, culturally rich performance upsets you more than injustice, cruelty, or the way we treat our neighbors, then the problem isn’t the halftime show.
 
It’s our hearts.
 
This country is at its best when we celebrate the full humanity of its people… not when we disguise exclusion as holiness.
 
Love your neighbor.
ALL of them.

God of justice and mercy,
We come to You with broken voices and trembling hearts, because the world has forgotten who we all are to one another, and too many of us have learned how to look away.
 
What is happening around us is not okay.
Children are suffering.
Families are being torn apart.
Violence is excused.
Cruelty is explained away.
And silence has become more comfortable than truth.
 
Lord, this is not Your will.
We confess that we have allowed politics to matter more than people.
That we have chosen sides instead of choosing love.
That we have defended systems instead of defending the vulnerable.
Forgive us.
 
Break our hearts for what breaks Yours.
Shatter our indifference.
Disrupt our comfort.
Do not let us call injustice “necessary” or hatred “normal.”
 
Teach us a love that is fierce and costly.
A peace that refuses to coexist with oppression.
A compassion that crosses borders, beliefs, and lines we were told not to cross.
Where fear rules, pour out courage.
Where lies are preached, raise up truth.
Where power crushes the powerless, stand in their defense, and move us to do the same.
 
Remind us that every life bears Your image.
That no law, no leader, no ideology ever outranks human dignity.
 
Make us restless until love wins.
Make us uncomfortable until peace is real.
Make us bold enough to say with our lives: this is not okay, and we will not accept it.
Heal this wounded world, O God.
And begin with our hearts.
 
Amen.
 
Yours In Christ,
Saul Ibbara, Jr.
 
 
 

I stood towards the far end of the practice field and looked across the field at Coach McFarland and Coach Broadway. They were having an animated conversation that I was pretty sure was about me. A few moments later my suspicions were confirmed when Coach Mac yelled, “Allen, come here!” I tried to run through every what-did-I-do-now scenario as I jogged towards him. As soon as I approached, no small talk, “Are you going into ministry?”
I proceeded to fumble over my words like a running back wearing oven mitts. How did he find out? I had only told Coach Hansbrough. Mario?!?! Up until that point, I’d been having doubts, wrestling for weeks. Was God calling me to be a pastor or to keep teaching and coaching? I guess this was the moment I was going to decide. “Well sir… actually sir… yes… yes sir. I believe God’s calling me into ministry.” Coach Mac smiled and Coach Broadway began to speak, “Well, I’ll pay for your seminary.” I looked back and forth at the two in stunned silence.

So God let me get this straight. In 1987 my family moved from Washington D.C. to Alpharetta, GA where I would attend Milton High School and meet Nate Webster who would convince me to play college football. While playing college football, my dad became head coach at Riverwood where I would become an assistant coach after college. While coaching at Riverwood my dad would die unexpectedly leading me to pursue teaching and coaching. Following one of Riverwood’s most successful seasons, my close friend would resign as head coach causing me to look for new coaching opportunities. Nate Webster would call me to see if I’d be interested in coaching at Roswell where he’s on staff. While on staff at Roswell, I’d become a follower of Jesus and accept a call to ministry standing on a football field.
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The story of my life is the story of a relentless God whose goodness has been running after me from my first breath to this present moment. In ways I cannot begin to fully grasp or understand, Jesus has been drawing me to himself not in spite of but through my life circumstances. Like Joseph, in Genesis 50 I have time and time again watched God use unlikely circumstances for my good and his glory. Today and in the week that follows I pray that you would glimpse the improbable story Jesus has and is writing through your life. I pray that you would be able to rest in God’s goodness and the assurance that he knows the plans he has for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 

Yours In Christ,
Allen Hoskyn, Associate Pastor
Missions & Discipleship

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