Silence. Waiting. Uncertainty. If you’ve ever walked through a season where it felt like God had checked out, you know exactly what Saturday feels like. We call it Holy Saturday. It’s that strange, heavy space between the agony of the cross and the glory of the empty tomb. It’s the day when the world held its breath. It’s the day when the "miracle worker" was laying in a borrowed grave, and His followers were left wondering if they had gotten the whole thing wrong. I’ve spent

It’s Friday morning. For many of us here in Green River, it’s just the start of the weekend. Maybe you’re grabbing a coffee, looking at the clock, and counting down the hours until the work week is officially over. But for those of us who follow Jesus, this isn't just any Friday. It’s Good Friday. And honestly? If you look at the facts of what happened on this day two thousand years ago, the name feels like a mistake. It feels wrong. It doesn’t look good. In fact, it looks li

We are right in the thick of it now. Holy Week is moving fast, and the weight of what’s coming is starting to settle in. I don’t know about you, but I often find that Thursday gets lost in the shuffle. We focus so much on the darkness of Good Friday and the explosive joy of Easter morning that we sometimes breeze right past the upper room. But if we want to understand the heart of Jesus: and if we want to understand what it actually means to follow Him: we have to stop here.

Betrayed. Abandoned. Arrested. If you’ve ever had a "worst-case scenario" day, it probably didn’t look like this. I’m talking about the kind of night that changes everything. The kind of night where the shadows seem a little longer and the silence feels heavy. And we’ve all been there in our own way, right? Maybe it wasn’t a literal garden with torches and soldiers. Maybe it was a phone call you weren’t expecting. Maybe it was a pink slip at work. Maybe it was a relationship

When I picture Jesus entering Jerusalem, I always think of the noise first. It was loud. Not a quiet, contemplative walk through the city gates. A full-blown parade. People lined the streets, waving palm branches like they were at a championship celebration, and shouting at the top of their lungs: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” (John 12:13). If I’m being honest, if you’d been there (and I’d been there), we probably would’ve assumed we were watchin

"I don’t need more advice. I don’t need more stuff. I don’t need more social media. I need a Savior. And if I’m honest, that’s a little uncomfortable to admit. Because I like to believe I can fix things. If I just try harder. If I just get my act together. If I just make a better plan. But sin is more than just what we do. It’s something that separates us from God. And no amount of effort on my part can fill or fix that problem. That’s why Jesus came. That was the purpose of