Pastor’s Notes 5/8/2026

Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” –Matthew 28:19-20

Life experience has taught me the importance of paying attention to reading the instructions. Like when putting together a piece of furniture… or a new gadget… or something that looked simple enough. I start out confident but then about halfway through, something isn’t quite right.

There are extra screws. Pieces don’t line up. I go back, retrace my steps, maybe even start over. Eventually, I find myself doing what I probably should have done from the beginning and seek to understand how it was meant to come together in the first place.

This Sunday, we come to the ending words of Matthew’s Gospel, known as the Great Commission. These are some of the most familiar words Jesus speaks: “Go… make disciples… baptize… teach…”

They can sound like a set of instructions. A mission statement. A clear directive. But like most things in the life of faith, they are more than just directions to follow. Because when we look closely, we notice something important: the disciples who receive this commission are not fully confident. Matthew tells us that they worship, and some doubt.

And following the script Mark placed before us last week, and still… they are sent.

So, what does it mean to live out our own calling amid our questions, our uncertainties, and our everyday lives? This week, we’ll explore what it means to “go” in ways that are faithful, meaningful, and deeply rooted in relationship.

Because maybe the Great Commission isn’t just about getting it right. Maybe it’s about learning, step by step, how to live into the life we’ve already been invited to share. I look forward to worshipping with you on Mother’s Day in person or on YouTube.

Brett

Pastor’s Notes 5/1/2026

And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.” –Mark 16:15

I love walking my dog early in the morning. There is something about the stillness of the desert, when the temperature is lowest and the stars still twinkle in a clear sky and everything is quiet. The awesomeness of morning can be almost eerie some days and yet I feel close to God. I trust fully that the holy presence is here, I just know.

This is belief.

In Biblical Greek, belief means to trust, to rely on, to commit oneself. It is about relationship with God and others and living in a committed way that reflects holy virtues.  

In the longer ending of the Gospel of Mark (16:9–20), belief is not portrayed as certainty wrapped up neatly with a bow. It is something that wavers. The disciples hear testimony of resurrection and they hesitate. They are presented with signs and still struggle. They are reluctant to trust that God is already at work beyond what they can see or control, even after all they have shared and been through with Jesus.

And yet, Jesus still sends them. “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news…” Right here and now, amid a fragile, growing, and sometimes resistant belief. This is their calling; this is our calling. This feels important to us.

If trust is real, lived, and relational, then it is something that grows. Belief grows through early morning walks, glorious sunsets, and mountain grandeur. It grows in community, in service, in showing up even when we are unsure. It grows as we listen to one another’s experiences and choose to lean toward hope rather than away from it.

Mark’s gospel doesn’t end with a polished faith, but it does end with a calling. A calling to proclaim good news not just with words, but with lives that reflect healing, welcome, courage, and love.

I look forward to worshipping with you in person or on YouTube this Sunday! The prompt question for you to think about this week: What fills you with awe and reminds you that God is still present?

Brett

Pastor’s Notes 4/24/2026

Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord.    John 21:12

My Grandma and Grandpa Winters always had sweet treats around. Homemade bars, cookies, cakes, and pies were at the ready because company could show up any evening. Hostess and Little Debbie snacks were also in abundance because they pack easily for lunch on the farm. (Side note: the Midwest has four meals. Breakfast is before dawn, lunch comes mid-morning, dinner midday, and supper in the evening).

Looking back, I realize I was spoiled by the sweets. But what stays with me isn’t just the treats, it’s the table. Sitting together, laughing at familiar stories, welcoming whoever stopped by was the most meaningful.

This Sunday, we come to the closing chapter of John 21:1–14. It’s a quiet, almost ordinary ending. The disciples are back to fishing. The nets are empty. Morning comes slowly. And the unrecognized Jesus greets them with breakfast.

He had fish and bread ready for them when they came ashore. They knew it was Jesus, because they had experienced this act of love before. “Come and eat .” It wasn’t just the miracle of nets filled with fish that triggered it, rather the invitation.

They recognize him not just because of what he does, but because of how it feels. It feels like care. It feels like being known and welcomed. It feels like love. This is the point John wants to make, that resurrection shows up in the quiet and familiar acts of care that remind us we are not alone.

Together we’ll explore how the story ends with Jesus’ presence and an invitation into joy. And maybe we’ll discover that the greatest gift isn’t what’s on the table… but who is at the table with us.

The prompt question for you to think about this week: “Who in your life showed you love through food?”

I look forward to hearing your stories.   

Brett

Pastor’s Notes 4/17/2026

Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” –John 20:26b

Our Bible study was thoughtful this week, so much so, it is still with me. The main text on the table is our lesson for Sunday, John 20:24-29 and the story of Thomas encountering the resurrected Jesus for the first time.

We began as we often do, looking at the passage just prior, and in it we found the disciples behind locked doors: afraid, uncertain, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. And honestly, we didn’t move past that moment too quickly. We lingered there. Because it feels familiar.

What must it have been like to live in that space between grief and hope? Between what you thought you knew and what you were being told might be true?

We found ourselves circling back repeatedly to Jesus’ words: “Peace be with you.” Not as a simple greeting, but as something deeper, as something offered right into fear, confusion, and even failure.

And then there was that startling moment: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you… Receive the Holy Spirit… If you forgive, they are forgiven…”

That’s a lot to carry. Peace. Calling. Forgiveness. The Spirit. All given to a group still trying to catch their breath. What an amazing sense of responsibility. And had they known this mission would befall them, chances are good they might have changed their mind when Jesus first asked them to follow.

This Sunday, we turn to Thomas, the one who couldn’t quite believe it yet. And maybe that’s where many of us find ourselves too. Not opposed to faith, not closed off, but needing something more. Something real, a tangible hope. Something we can trust.

I’ll be honest with you: I’m still listening for where this sermon wants to land. Maybe that’s part of the invitation. To resist rushing to easy answers. To honor the space between fear and faith. So, I hope you’ll join me Sunday in person or on YouTube, bringing your questions, your doubts, your hopes, and maybe even your locked doors. Because if the story tells us anything, it’s this: Christ meets us there.

Brett

Pastor’s Notes: 4/10/2026

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles[a] from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. –Luke 24:13-14

This Sunday, we step into one of the most beloved resurrection stories in the Gospel from Luke 24:13–35.

Two disciples, weighed down by grief and confusion, walk a familiar road, trying to make sense of all that has happened. Along the way, they do what we so often do in uncertain moments and they tell the story. They revisit what they’ve seen, what they hoped for, and what they don’t yet understand.

And somewhere in the telling… Christ draws near.

They don’t recognize him at first. Not in their conversation. Not in their questions. Not even in their grief. But later, they will look back and say, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?”

It’s a powerful reminder: sometimes we only recognize God’s presence in hindsight. When we pause to reflect, to remember, and to tell the story again it becomes easier for us to see that God has always been present.

Over the coming year, we will be leaning into the sacred practice of storytelling. We will trust that our lives, like scripture, are filled with moments where God has been present.

Each week, we’ll offer a simple prompt to help you reflect on your own story. You’ll be invited to write, to remember, and even record your story and become part of the living witness of this community.

The prompt question to think about this Sunday: “What is a story that seems to get told time and time again in your family?”

I look forward to worshipping with you in person or on YouTube.   

Brett

Pastor’s Notes 4/3/2026

Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” –Matthew 28:7

As we arrive at Easter Sunday, we come to the joyful culmination of our Lenten journey, Tell Me Something Good.

Together, we have remembered that good news is ours… and all are invited. We have seen how good news can catch us by surprise. We have named it as great love for God and neighbor, and discovered that together, the impossible becomes possible. We have recognized that good news looks like protection and care for the vulnerable, and that it is rooted deeply in justice, mercy, and faithfulness. Again and again, we have seen that the good news is not passive and it is inspiring us to act.

And now, on this Easter day of resurrection and God’s eternal promise, we celebrate this truth: the good news is alive in the world.

New life emerges. Small resurrections unfold every day. Even amid life’s struggles like grief, illness, uncertainty, and pain, God is present. There is still blessing. There is still goodness. Jesus’ life and death journey reminds us of this truth.

During worship, we will share the “good news” Post-It note reflections written by you throughout Lent. These simple words have become a powerful testimony: the Good News story is still being written throughout our lives.

The invitation to “tell something good” will continue beyond Easter. Throughout the coming year, we will keep listening, sharing, and bearing witness to the good news alive in our midst. Each week, you’ll be given a simple prompt… a chance to reflect and to name where you see life, hope, and resurrection.

This week’s prompt:
Tell about your Easter memories. Was there a tradition, an Easter outfit, or practice that comes to mind? Maybe a special occasion, a meaningful gift, or a memorable worship experience? What did your family always do?

I look forward to worshipping with you this Holy Weekend.

Brett

Pastor’s Notes 3/27/2026

Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!      
–Mark 11:9

This Sunday is Palm Sunday, and our theme is: “The Good News… is inspiring us to act.”Our scripture comes from Gospel of Mark 11:1–11. It is the familiar story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem.

In Bible study this week, we discussed the possibility that there may have been two processions entering Jerusalem around the same time.

New Testament scholars like Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan teach that from the west, the Roman governor Pontius Pilate would have entered the city with a show of imperial force by parading into Jerusalem behind the government’s finest soldiers, horses, armor, and banners. This was Rome’s way of reminding the people who was in charge, especially during Passover, a festival that celebrated liberation.

From the east, Jesus enters, on a borrowed colt, surrounded not by soldiers but by ordinary people. No weapons. No armor. Just cloaks on the road, branches in the air, and voices crying out.

The contrast is striking. One procession proclaims power through domination. The other embodies power through humility, peace, and justice.

As the crowd shouts “Hosanna,” they are not simply offering praise. As in translated from Psalm 118:25, the word “Hosanna” comes from the Hebrew phrase hoshi‘a na, meaning “save us.” It is both a prayer and a cry for deliverance rising from people who know what it is to live under the weight of empire.

And the crowd doesn’t just watch this parade, they participate. The good news is… the people act. They lay down their cloaks. They raise their voices. They dare to hope out loud.

This Sunday, we will wonder together: Where is the good news inspiring us to act?
What are the “Hosannas” of our time? And how might we join in Christ’s way of humble, courageous, hope-filled witness?

I look forward to worshiping with you in person or on YouTube as we enter this sacred week together.     

Pastor’s Notes 3/20/2026

They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 2:6-7

It is gut-wrenching to disappoint someone.

Disappointment can cut deeper than anger, frustration, or irritation. There is a trust that gets crossed when disappointment settles in, something unspoken but deeply felt. I wonder if that is part of what is happening in this week’s story.

In John 8:2–11, a woman is dragged into public view, her life reduced to an accusation, her dignity stripped away for the sake of a test. The religious leaders stand ready, not just to condemn her, but to trap Jesus. It is a moment thick with tension, judgment, and hypocrisy.

And what does Jesus do? He bends down and writes in the dust.

We will never know what he wrote. But perhaps that’s not the point. Maybe what matters most is that he looks away. He turns his gaze from both the accusers and the accused. There is something in that posture of Jesus that is quiet and unsettling. It isn’t condemnation or rage but a kind of holy grief.

It feels almost like disappointment.

Then Jesus speaks words that echo through time: “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” And after that, he bends down again! He lets the silence do its work. He lets them sit with themselves. He does not argue, he does not chase, he does not force. He simply creates space for truth to rise.

One by one, they leave. And there, in the aftermath, we see the good news. On Sunday we will explore together what they see, the hope we too are left with. We will claim the mercy and kindness God expresses to all of us, even when we may feel unworthy to receive it.

The good news is… rooted in justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

I look forward to worshipping with you on YouTube or in person on Sunday.

“You give them something to eat.”

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” –Matthew 28:19-20

It is easy these days to run up against something that simply feels too big: Too many needs. Too few resources. Too many questions. Not enough answers.

If we are honest, most of us have had moments where we look at the situation in front of us and quietly think, “There’s no way.” That feeling shows up in our scripture readings this Sunday.

In Mark 6, the disciples look out at a crowd of thousands who have gathered to hear Jesus. Evening is approaching and the practical problem becomes clear: these people need something to eat. Jesus offers the disciples a solution: “You give them something to eat.”

At first it sounds impossible.

Then in Matthew 28, the disciples stand with the risen Christ on a mountain. The future of the movement seems uncertain. Jesus is leaving, and the world still feels vast and complicated. Yet Jesus entrusts them with a calling that must have seemed just as overwhelming: Go and make disciples of all nations.

Again, it sounds impossible. Unless… they are not doing it alone.

The good news in both stories is not that the disciples suddenly gain superhuman ability. The good news is that God’s work unfolds in community. What seems impossible for one person becomes possible when people gather, share what they have, and trust that God is already at work among them.

Five loaves and two fish do not look like much, until they are offered. A small group of uncertain disciples does not look like much, until they are sent together.

The church has always been a community that lives in this tension. We often begin with limited resources, imperfect plans, and ordinary people. Yet somehow, when we bring what we have and trust God with the rest, something more begins to happen.

Together, the impossible starts to look a little more possible, and that friends is good news! I will be out this Sunday but our very own elder, Rev. Chuck Babcock will preach the good news! Many blessings.

Brett

Pastor’s Notes 3/6/2026

“Then children were being brought to him in order that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples spoke sternly to those who brought them,  but Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.” And he laid his hands on them and went on his way.”  –Matt. 19:13-15

Tell me something good…

Have you noticed the century plant blooming in our prayer garden?

The century plant (agave) is extraordinary. For years or decades, it grows slowly and quietly, storing energy. And then, almost suddenly, it sends up a towering stalk that can rise ten to thirty feet into the air. It doesn’t bloom all at once. It unfolds in stages. And when it does, it becomes a feast for bees and birds and every pollinator nearby.

And then, after that magnificent bloom, the main plant dies. But the good new is that this isn’t the end of the story. Before it dies, the century plant sends up “pups” of small offshoots at its base. New life rising from the old.

I can’t help but see something holy in that rhythm.

Protection and care for the vulnerable is not accidental. Our texts for Sunday, Deuteronomy 24:17–22 and  Matthew 19:13–15 remind us of a need for intentionality . It is cultivated over time. It is rooted in memory… “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt,” Deuteronomy says. It grows quietly in the habits of a people who leave the edges of their fields unharvested. It blooms when a community refuses to push children aside. It feeds more than we realize.

And sometimes, the most beautiful acts of care create new life beyond us.

Like the agave sending up pups, protection of the vulnerable ensures that life continues. It says: there will be a next generation. There will be those who are sheltered, fed, welcomed, and blessed. There will be room at the edges.

I look forward to worshipping with you on Sunday for “The good news is… protection and care for the vulnerable.” 

Brett