Come out of hiding, come out of shame, come out of addiction, of fear, come out of the story that has convinced you that this is as alive as you will ever be. Come out.
If everyone always got exactly what they deserved, and the universe finally behaved like we think it should, what would be lost? Well, I think the grace of this moment would be lost. This encounter that a man born blind had with the grace of God in the person of Jesus would be lost. Because the only one in
We’re dying of thirst out here, desperate to understand and to be understood. And still we take the easy road of “she’s probably not worth talking to and certainly not worth being seen talking to.”
Friends, please hear the good news of the gospel. God does not require you to be brave in order to be saved, and God will not condemn you, even for being afraid.
Every time something has tried to dim this city, the people of Memphis have risen. The culture of Memphis has risen. The stories of Memphis have risen. The faith of this city has risen. I think that God’s vision for us, Memphis, is not just for us to survive, but is meant for Memphis to be a pasture. A
Temptation is not about appetite. It is about autonomy. Secure yourself. Define yourself. Prove yourself. And Jesus refuses. “I live by what God speaks.” “I serve God alone.” He does not grab. He entrusts. I am convinced that sin, at its root, is trying to save yourself. And forgiveness is God refusing to abandon you when you cannot.
Forged from his Memphis gospel roots and shaped by Houston’s vibrant jazz scene, Kirk Whalum is a singular voice in contemporary music. Discovered by jazz legend Bob James, Whalum went on to become an in-demand session musician for artists including Whitney Houston, Luther Vandross, Quincy Jones, and Barbra Streisand—most famously performing the iconic saxophone solo on I Will Always Love
We all carry personal ashes- grief, addiction, regret, exhaustion. The forgiveness we withhold. The people we quietly despise. And we carry collective ashes -the injustices we lament and the systems we quietly benefit from and prefer not to see.
The same Jesus who was transfigured so magnificently that day taught us that the ones God calls beloved and even speaks through are not limited to a few famous prophets on a mountain a long time ago. Jesus says God’s beloved ones are all around us, wherever we are, every day, if only we’re given eyes to see our
We start by imagining ourselves as more than a bunch of broken-hearted, or just plain broken people. Can we imagine that we are salt? That we are capable of shining? And when we do that, can we imagine that we are salt for others or light for others?