June 2026 – Welcome

His – 1 Chronicles 29:10-20

That reframes the whole idea of generosity in a pretty significant way. We tend to feel good about what we give to God, to others, to causes we care about, and there is something right about that.

“Yours, Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the splendor and the majesty, for everything in the heavens and on earth belongs to You. Yours, Lord, is the kingdom, and You are exalted as head over all.” — 1 Chronicles 29:11 (HCSB)

The context here matters a lot. David is standing before God and his people right after an extraordinary moment. The Israelites had just given a massive, generous offering of treasure to be used in building the Temple. Gold, silver, precious stones, the works. It was a genuinely impressive display of generosity. King David’s response is fascinating. Instead of celebrating how much his people had given, he essentially turns to God and says none of this was ours to begin with.

That’s a remarkable thing for a king to say. David was the most powerful man in Israel. He ruled everything and everyone. If anyone had the right to stand up and take some credit for what his kingdom had accumulated, it was him. And yet his prayer goes in exactly the opposite direction. Who am I and who are we, he asks, that we could give you anything? You own it all. We only have what you allowed us to have. Everything we just handed over was already yours.

That reframes the whole idea of generosity in a pretty significant way. We tend to feel good about what we give to God, to others, to causes we care about, and there is something right about that. David was genuinely proud of his people in this moment. But the deeper reality is that we are not donors. We are stewards returning what was entrusted to us. It’s like finding someone’s lost bag and handing it back to them. You haven’t given them your bag. You’ve just returned what was theirs all along. That’s a humbling way to think about it.

I want to do great things for God. I want to give generously in every way I can my time, my money, my talents, whatever I have. But this passage is a good reality check on the pride that can sneak into that. God doesn’t need any of it. He’s not impressed by the size of the offering the way we might be. What he desires is the heart behind it, a genuine dedication to him and his purposes, lived out honestly day after day.

So, the takeaway is a posture adjustment more than a action item. When I start feeling good about something I’ve done for God, or frustrated about what I’m lacking, I want to come back to David’s prayer. Anything I have is a gift from him. Anything I give back is just an honest return of what he owns. That keeps things in the right perspective and honestly, it makes the whole thing feel a lot more like worship and a lot less like a transaction.

Real – Hebrews 9:24-28

But none of it is the point. The point is Christ himself, and the hope of his return. He’s not coming back to deal with sin again. That work is finished.

“So also Christ was offered once for all time as a sacrifice to take away the sins of many people. He will come again, not to deal with our sins, but to bring salvation to all who are eagerly waiting for him.” — Hebrews 9:28 (HCSB)

The Real Thing

The writer of Hebrews is making a careful and deliberate argument to people who grew up surrounded by the Jewish temple system with it priests, sacrifices, and rituals. His point is not that those things were meaningless. It’s that they were always just a shadow. A human-made version of something far greater happening in heaven. The tabernacle, the altar, the annual sacrifices, all of it was pointing toward something else, something that was not incomplete. It was like going through a ride at Disneyland. It might feel like you are in an Indiana Jones archaeological dig, but you aren’t. Not really.

Then Jesus showed up and did the real thing.

The contrast he draws is pretty striking. A priest goes into the temple year after year, offering the same sacrifices over and over, because the job is never quite finished. The sin keeps coming and the covering keeps needing to be renewed. Jesus walked into the true holy place, not a building made by human hands, and offered himself once. That’s it. One time. Done.

That lands differently when you sit with it. Everything we build here, whether it’s our institutions, our religious systems, our ceremonies and traditions, are at best a pale reflection of the eternal reality. That’s not a criticism of those things. Structure and practice have their place.

But none of it is the point. The point is Christ himself, and the hope of his return. He’s not coming back to deal with sin again. That work is finished. He’s coming back to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him. That changes the posture of the whole thing.

For me personally, this is a helpful recalibration. It’s easy to get caught up in the world immediately around me. I have a list of things that I have to do today. Even religious activity can become its own kind of distraction if it replaces a genuine focus on Christ rather than pointing toward him. I’m not called to check out of the world like some kind of hermit, and I’m not saying the things around me don’t matter. But I need to keep them in their right place.

The practical takeaway is pretty simple. Stay connected to the ultimate reality of Christ rather than getting lost in the lesser things. The shadow is not the substance. The ceremonies and structures and busy activity of life are not the point. He is. And he is coming back.

Finished – Revelation 21:1-8

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away. Then the One seated on the throne said, ‘Look! I am making everything new.'” — Revelation 21:3-4 (HCSB)

John is writing down a vision. People have debated for centuries exactly what kind of vision it is. Some say metaphor, some history, still other’s present reality, and most say it’s a future promise. The early church read it as a picture of what is coming, and honestly that seems like the most natural reading. John’s original audience would have recognized echoes throughout this passage of things Jesus said and promised throughout his ministry. This wasn’t new information to them. It was confirmation that the story wasn’t over.

What is most meaningful to me in this passage is the connection to the cross. When Jesus said “It is finished” as he died, he was talking about the work of salvation, the debt paid and the gap closed. But here in Revelation 21, those words show up again in a completely different context. This time it isn’t about the cross. It’s about the completion of everything Jesus promised when he told his followers he was going away to prepare a place for them. The making new that began at the resurrection is finally, fully done. Every tear wiped away. Death itself gone. Grief and pain and the other things that define so much of our experience here are simply no more.

That promise is worth clinging to, especially on the hard days. God is faithful to reward those who have been holding on to what he said. That’s not a small thing. But I also can’t read this passage without feeling the weight of verse 8, the list of those whose end is very different. Not because I’m worried about my own standing, but because I think about the people around me who are carrying the crushing weight of unrepentant sin, or worse, who have come to faith but are still being haunted by decisions they made before.

I’ve talked to Christians recently who can’t seem to shake the guilt of their past. And that’s not God doing that to them. God doesn’t see that sin anymore. It is gone. It is the enemy who keeps dragging it back out and holding it up. Instead, the promises that Jesus offers are completely opposite.

The freedom that Jesus offers isn’t just freedom from the penalty of sin. It’s freedom from the shame of it. The same voice that says “It is finished” on the cross is the voice that says “I am making everything new” in this passage. That includes you. That includes your past. That includes the thing you can’t seem to forgive yourself for.

I feel a real pull to help people land in the hope of this passage rather than fear of the last verse. There are people all around me who need to hear that the story ends with every tear wiped away and that Jesus meant that for them personally.