Park Hill Church Podcast

Most of us think "fun" means being left alone with a screen and no one asking anything of us — but what if that's actually the opposite of fun? This week at Park Hill, Evan Wickham dug into Romans 12:9–21 for Family Sunday and landed on a definition of fun from psychologist Dan Allender that flips the script entirely: fun is doing harm to evil, together. Paul's list of instructions in this passage — honor others above yourself, practice hospitality, bless those who hurt you, feed your enemy — isn't a burden list or a hidden map for finding God's will. It's the will of God, lived out in ordinary relationships, and every item on it is both costly and deeply fulfilling. Evil's whole strategy is to keep you comfortable and alone. Jesus breathed his Spirit into his disciples so they wouldn't have to hold up that list on their own strength — and neither do we. Every time you stay in a hard conversation, sit with the person nobody else will, or feed the enemy you'd rather resent, you're not just being nice. You're crushing the serpent's head under your own feet.

What does worship look like on a Monday afternoon? This week Evan Wickham opened our new series through Romans 12–13, Life in the Sanctuary, with a reframe: worship isn't a song, it's your body — your calendar, your appetites, the way you talk to your family when you're stressed. Paul calls us to stop being shaped by the world's patterns and instead be transformed from the inside out, so we can actually discern God's will instead of guessing at it. And that transformation was never meant to happen alone — Paul writes "bodies," plural, "sacrifice," singular. We don't just need each other. We are each other.

Why do the people who ignore God so often seem to be the ones getting ahead? That's the raw question Asaph brings in Psalm 73. In this sermon, Mike Forrest traces how a worship leader who nearly lost his footing to envy found his way back. The turning point isn't a change in circumstances; it's a change in presence. When Asaph enters the sanctuary, everything shifts. Continuing Park Hill's time in this psalm, Mike shows that the root of envy is really dissatisfaction with God. And the antidote is learning to be with Jesus, wherever we are, until His presence transforms us. Because the sanctuary isn't only a building anymore. If you belong to Jesus, you carry His presence within you.

What do you do when you're trying to be faithful to Jesus while others who don't give a rip about Jesus are the ones who seem "blessed"? In this profound message, Park Hill elder candidate Connie Jackson walks us through the honest struggle of a worship leader named Asaph. He's someone who almost lost his faith. Tracing Asaph's journey from struggle to restoration, Connie shares how this ancient psalm became the soundtrack of her own life as a young adult. It turns out, the path Asaph walked is the one we're meant to travel over and over as Jesus followers. This is an invitation to bring our real, honest questions to God. And then discover that repentance, as messy as it is, is the truest path into the safety of our Father's arms.  "Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you." — Psalm 73:25–26  

Would you rather be seen or be honored? Bartimaeus, a blind beggar outside Jericho's gates, has no status, no family, nothing but a cloak and a shout. Yet Jesus stops for him and asks the same question he asked James and John just verses earlier — the ones scheming for the best seats in glory. This week, Ashley closed our summer series, Jesus Questions, with this gut-punch of a story about who Jesus actually honors. The disciples wanted power. Bartimaeus wanted mercy — and got his name written into Scripture forever. It's a searching look at God's heart for the poor, and the walls we build between ourselves and the ones Jesus calls by name.

Couldn't you men keep watch with me for one hour? That's the question Jesus asks his sleeping disciples in Gethsemane, hours before the cross. This week, Matthieu Rouffet walked through Matthew 26:36–41, unpacking why Jesus wanted his closest friends near him in his darkest hour, and why he warned them to watch and pray so they wouldn't fall into testing. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak — and that's still true for us. Prayer isn't a nice add-on to the Christian life; it's the weapon God gave us to stand firm when trials and unseen forces press in. The invitation this week is simple but not easy: recommit to praying, start small, and don't do it alone.

Everyone in this room is climbing something — a ladder, a status, a seat closer to the front. This week Todd Proctor continued our Jesus Questions series with the moment Jesus got up from the table, wrapped a towel around his waist, and washed the feet only a slave was supposed to touch. It wasn't an accident or a nice gesture — it was a deliberate violation of every honor system his culture ran on, Roman and Jewish alike. Jesus didn't descend because he had something to prove. He descended because he already knew whose he was. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" isn't just a question about foot washing. It's a question about whether we're still trying to climb, or finally ready to get off the ladder.

Every ledger has a bottom line, and Jesus wants to know what's on yours. In Matthew 16, right after Peter makes the greatest confession in history, Jesus tells him the road ahead runs through a cross—and Peter can't stomach it. So Jesus asks the question underneath every ambition we carry: what good is it to gain the whole world and forfeit your soul? In a culture that measures a life by acquisition, this passage reframes the math entirely—your soul was never for sale, and Jesus proved it by refusing the world to purchase you instead. This week, Evan walks through what it looks like to stop settling for smaller trades, and to live as someone whose worth was already decided at the cross.

Everyone has an opinion about Jesus. Almost no one wants to answer for one. This week at Caesarea Philippi — pagan shrine country, standing in front of a cave locals called "the gates of Hades" — Jesus let his disciples hide behind the safe question first: who do people say I am? Then he turned it personal. Peter's answer, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God," wasn't something he figured out or inherited — it was revealed to him, in the room, in real time. That same question hasn't gone quiet in two thousand years. It's not asking whether you have doubts, or whether your life is together. It's asking one thing, and it's asking you.

Do you love me? It's a question Jesus already knows the answer to — and asks anyway. This week, Connor Anderson took us back to the charcoal fire where Peter denied Christ three times, then forward to the morning Jesus stood at another fire and rebuilt him. Jesus doesn't just know our failures ahead of time — he plans the invitation back before we ever fall. What looked like the end of Peter's story was actually the setup for his restoration: confession met not with rejection, but with breakfast and a calling. The wounds sin leaves behind don't have to stay open. Christ doesn't erase them — he fills them with gold.

What if the thing keeping you stuck isn't the absence of healing, but your own resistance to it? In John 5, Jesus walks up to a man who's been paralyzed for thirty-eight years and asks a question that sounds almost cruel: "Do you want to get well?" It's not cruel. It's the wise counselor getting deep into this man's soul. This week, we sit with a story about a man so trapped by his pain that he can't even imagine life without it — and a Savior who ignores his excuses entirely. Healing isn't something we engineer through the right plan or the right effort; it's something Jesus does, and we spend a lifetime learning to walk in it. The question Jesus asked that man by the pool is the same one He's asking you right now.

In Luke 24, the risen Jesus appears in a locked room to disciples who are terrified, doubting, and still processing the worst week of their lives. And His first move isn't to explain Himself. It's to ask a question: "Why are you troubled?" This week, Alexis Garcia-Irons opens that moment up and pairs it with Psalm 37 — a psalm that turns out to be a surprisingly honest blueprint for what to do when life is falling apart and your own reactions are making it worse. Anger, doubt, fear, Jesus isn't scared of any of it. He's asking about it.

In Luke 2:41–52, we find the first recorded words of Jesus — spoken at twelve years old, in the temple, after three days of his parents searching and fearing the worst. This week, Evan Wickham opened our new summer series, Jesus Questions, with this often-overlooked story that turns out to be Luke's earliest whisper of resurrection. Jesus wasn't lost. He was exactly where He belonged — in His Father's house, listening and asking questions. And that posture hasn't changed. The risen Christ is still present, still leaning in to what's on your heart, and still inviting you deeper into relationship with the Father. This summer, we're sitting with nine questions Jesus asked, trusting that if we engage them honestly, they'll move us closer to the Father's heart than we've ever been.

You know the armor. But do you know what it actually is? Belt of truth. Breastplate of righteousness. Shield of faith. Most of us have heard the list so many times it stopped meaning anything. But Paul isn't giving you a checklist — he's pointing you to a Person. Every single piece of the armor turns out to be Jesus. And the question isn't whether you ran through your spiritual warfare routine this morning. It's whether you clothed yourself with Him.

What if the enemy you've been fighting isn't the person across the table from you? In Ephesians 6, Paul names something most of us have been too modern — or too polite — to take seriously: there is a real, organized, unseen opposition to everything Jesus is building in you and in this church. Not a metaphor. Not a mood. A war. And you're already in it. The question isn't whether you'll fight. It's whether you'll finally stop swinging at the wrong target.

What does it look like when the Spirit of Jesus actually changes things at home — not in theory, but in your kitchen, your conversations, your closest relationships? In Ephesians 6, Paul walks the cosmic story of Jesus right into the most ordinary place you can think of: your house. Children and parents, workers and bosses — every relationship gets run through the same question. Not "who's in charge?" but "who are you serving?" The kingdom doesn't climb over people to get what it wants. It stands under. And the only way that becomes real in your life is when the Spirit makes it real.

On a day that holds both joy and grief for many, Missy Bell — foster mom and leader of Olive Crest San Diego — brings a timely word about what it truly means to be a mother. Drawing from the stories of Hagar and Pharaoh's daughter, she explores how God sees the invisible, stays with the hurting, and calls His people to do the same. Being a "mother to the motherless" isn't about heroism or perfection — it's about presence, consistency, and saying yes to the child in front of you.

What if the most countercultural thing you could do in a relationship is actually yield? In Ephesians 5, Paul isn't just writing a marriage manual — he's painting a picture of what all relationships look like when Christ is at the center. Married or single, we are all designed for deep, sacrificial, unified community. And getting there requires something our culture rarely celebrates: mutual submission. In this episode, Luis and Erika unpack what "submit to one another" really means — and why it's nothing like the word sounds. Two people, or a whole community, whose needs are so fully met in God that they're finally free to stop manipulating and start ministering to each other. Whether you're married, single, or somewhere in between — this one is for you. Because when our relationships reflect God's love, the world takes notice.

What if the reason our culture's approach to sex produces so much wreckage isn't that the rules are too strict, but that our view of sex is too small? In this episode, Evan Wickham works through one of Paul's most direct passages in Ephesians, unpacking the word ‘porneia’ and what Jesus really meant when he pointed us back to Genesis. At the center of it all is a single idea: the physical union was never meant to be separated from the covenant underneath it. When it is, we’re not just breaking a rule, we're trying to live in a world that doesn't exist. This sermon isn't primarily about what not to do. It's about what we were made for: the fragrance of self-giving love, the God who thinks the best way to be God is to wash feet, and what it looks like to wake up into the light of who you already are in Christ.

In Ephesians 4, Paul paints a picture of a world where people tell the truth, carry one another’s burdens, speak life, and forgive freely. A world marked by “true righteousness and holiness”—not as cold religious words, but as a lived reality of deep connection, trust, and belonging.   But Paul is clear: that kind of life doesn’t happen by accident. It requires putting off the old ways that hollow us out and putting on a new way of being—one shaped by Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit, and formed over time through renewed thinking.   This passage isn’t a list of rules. It’s a map back home. And the invitation is simple: What is one thing you need to put off? And what is the Spirit inviting you to put on? Because the world your soul is homesick for… is the very life God is forming in you right now.

What happens after we die—and why does it matter now? In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul makes a bold claim: if Jesus didn’t rise from the dead, our faith falls apart. But if He did… then everything changes—not just for Him, but for us. Easter isn’t only about Jesus’ resurrection. It’s about our future resurrection. The Bible doesn’t describe our story as simply life → heaven. It’s bigger than that: life → life after death → resurrection—a fully restored, physical life in God’s renewed creation. This means our future isn’t a distant, disembodied existence, but real, embodied life with God—where everything broken is made whole. And that future hope reshapes how we live today. Because of the resurrection, nothing done in Jesus’ name is wasted. Our work, our faithfulness, our love—it all carries into eternity.  

On Palm Sunday, Jesus entered Jerusalem as a King—but not the kind people expected. Riding on a donkey, He revealed a kingdom marked by humility, not power. And instead of heading to a palace, He went straight to the temple… and turned it upside down. In a moment that shocked the crowd, Jesus cleared out the barriers that kept outsiders at a distance and made room for healing, worship, and belonging. The message was unmistakable: God’s house is for everyone. This Palm Sunday, we’re invited to see who Jesus really is—and to respond. The door is open. The invitation is simple: say yes to Him.

In Ephesians 4:7–16, we see that Jesus hasn’t just saved us—He’s actively building us. By His grace, He gives gifts to His people, not so a few can do ministry, but so the whole church is equipped to grow. The goal isn’t just belief—it’s maturity. Unity isn’t something we create; it’s something we grow into as we become more like Christ. This week, we’re reminded that spiritual maturity means staying rooted in Jesus, resisting the pull of distraction and deception, and learning to speak truth in love within real relationships. As each person does their part, the church becomes a connected, living body—strengthened from the inside out. The invitation is simple but challenging: grow up into Christ.

As we step into the second half of Ephesians, we move from seeing what God has done in Christ to living in it. Paul’s “therefore” isn’t a shift from theology to practice—it’s an invitation to reality. Because we’ve been made alive, brought near, and formed into God’s family, we’re called to walk in a way that fits who we already are. That walk begins with unity. Paul urges the church to reflect the heart of Jesus—marked by humility, gentleness, and patient, enduring love. This kind of life doesn’t create unity; it protects what the Spirit has already established. In a world shaped by division, the church becomes a living witness to Christ when we make every effort to remain one. Rooted in the seven “ones”—one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father—we’re reminded that our unity is not something we achieve, but something we receive and steward. This week, we’re invited to live like it’s true: to pursue patience, fight for unity, and become, together, who we already are in Christ.

Guest speaker Josh Binstead from Hope Church Portsmouth joins us to share a powerful message titled “Fresh Fire and Undivided Hearts.” Looking at the story of Elijah on Mount Carmel in First Kings, we’re challenged to examine the divided loyalties and hidden idols that compete for our devotion.   Before the rain of renewal came to Israel, the fire of God first fell—restoring true worship and calling the people back to wholehearted faith. In the same way, God invites us to lay down the things that capture our hearts and return to Him with undivided devotion. Through stories of God at work and the example of Elijah’s persistence, this message reminds us that when our hearts are fully aligned with God, He still sends the fire—and the rain.   Where might God be calling you to deeper worship, faithful persistence, and a focused heart?

You are drowning in information and starving for experience. You know about God, but Paul's prayer in Ephesians 3 is reaching for something far more concrete than knowledge. From a prison cell, on his knees, Paul asks the Father to bring you into actual, literal, mystical union with Christ. In your inner being. Right now. This is the boldest prayer in the New Testament. And it's being prayed for you.   In this episode we explore what it means to be overtaken by a love too wide, too long, too high, and too deep to fully explain, and why you need more than information to get there. We also talk honestly about why most of us are living as prisoners in our own dungeons of distrust, too skeptical to open ourselves to the one thing we were actually made for.   This is not a metaphor. This is the heart of the Christian life. And the door is open right now.

In Ephesians 3:1–13, the Apostle Paul—writing as a prisoner—pulls back the curtain on what he calls “the mystery.” It’s not private spirituality or individual forgiveness alone. It’s something far bigger. The mystery is that through the gospel, former enemies are made family. Jews and Gentiles, slave and free, male and female—all are united as one new humanity in Christ. God’s wisdom is not displayed through dominance or cultural power, but through a reconciled, cross-shaped Church. In a divided world, the Church becomes the stage where God shames the powers—not by winning culture wars, but by embodying unity across hostility. Don’t miss the mystery. The gospel creates a people. And when we live as one new family in Christ, we put the manifold wisdom of God on display for the world to see.

In this powerful teaching from Ephesians 2:11–22, Mike Erre explores Paul’s vision of the gospel as more than personal forgiveness. The same grace that reconciles us to God also reconciles us to one another. Jesus didn’t just save individuals. He is creating a new humanity. What if salvation isn’t only about where we go when we die, but about the kind of people we become together? What if unity across division is spiritual warfare? What if the church is meant to be a refreshing alternative to the hostility of our world? This message invites us to imagine a community where hostility dies, grace levels the ground, and Jesus forms a people who live as one.

In Ephesians 2:1–10, we’re reminded of the breathtaking contrast at the heart of the gospel: we were dead in our sin, but God made us alive in Christ. This week, guest speaker Tinika Wyatt led us through this powerful passage, inviting us to see grace not as a small or ordinary thing, but as God’s radical, life-giving work on our behalf. Salvation is not something we earn or achieve—it is God’s gift from start to finish. Out of His great love and rich mercy, God rescues us from death, raises us with Christ, and calls us His workmanship, created for good works He prepared long ago. This is uncommon grace—grace that transforms our identity, redefines our purpose, and sends us out to live fully alive in Christ and extend that same grace to others.

Gratitude doesn’t come from having more—it comes from seeing clearly what we already have in Christ. As Paul closes the opening chapter of Ephesians, he prays that the eyes of our hearts would be enlightened to the hope, inheritance, and power that already belong to us as God’s children. In a world that trains us to live anxious, entitled, and distracted, this passage calls us back to an inheritance mindset—one rooted in resurrection power and future hope breaking into the present. This week, we’ll explore why we are far richer than we realize, why familiarity can dull our gratitude, and how God invites us to live now as heirs of the kingdom.

Parenting is holy ground—and it’s also messy. In this House of Learning, Phil and Diane invite parents and grandparents into a hopeful, honest conversation about raising children in a culture shaped by shame, cancellation, and unresolved hurt. Together, we’ll explore how to build homes marked by forgiveness, humility, and repair; how our words and expectations shape our children’s hearts; and how to disciple rather than provoke the kids God has entrusted to us. Grounded in Scripture and decades of lived experience, this seminar introduces practical tools like “keeping short accounts,” the proper way to apologize, and The Box—a framework for nurturing children emotionally, spiritually, and relationally. Whether you’re parenting young children, teenagers, or navigating relationships with adult kids, this seminar offers wisdom, grace, and tangible next steps for cultivating a home where love, safety, and growth can flourish.

In a world marked by distraction, disappointment, and spiritual fatigue, how do we remain faithful to God, to our families, and to the Church over the long haul? Drawing from over five decades of marriage, ministry, and generational faith, Phil and Diane invite us to “tell our story” of God’s rescuing grace (Psalm 107:2) and the practices that have sustained a lifelong walk with Jesus. Through Scripture, personal testimony, and hard-won wisdom, they unpack three formative practices—obedient faith, giving our lives away, and meeting with God morning by morning—that have anchored their family through seasons of joy, suffering, doubt, and restoration. This message is a hopeful call to long obedience in the same direction, reminding us that God does not reward greatness, but faithfulness—and that staying faithful is always worth it.

Before Paul gives commands or corrections, he bursts into praise. In this opening passage of Ephesians, we’re invited to rediscover what it truly means to be “blessed”—not with ease or comfort, but with belonging. In Christ, God has poured out every spiritual blessing: choosing us, adopting us into His family, redeeming us through the blood of Jesus, and sealing us with the Holy Spirit. This sermon calls us to remember who we already are in Christ—chosen, adopted, redeemed, and secure—and to live from that identity rather than striving to earn it. We don’t leave with a to-do list, but with a name: Jesus, the blessing God has given to the world.

What does it actually mean to be human—and how do we recover what’s been lost? In this opening message of our new series through Ephesians, we explore Paul’s foundational claim: before we are told how to live, we are reminded of who we already are in Christ. Identity comes before effort, belonging before obedience.   Tracing the story from Genesis to Jesus to the Church, this sermon reframes sin as a loss of true humanity and presents the gospel as God’s work of restoring humanity through Christ. Ephesians reveals the Church as God’s sign to the world—and to the powers of darkness—of what healed, reconciled, fully alive humanity looks like.   This message sets the table for the entire series, inviting us to live from grace, walk in love, and become who God says we already are.

What if reality is bigger than what we can see? On Epiphany Sunday, Pastor Evan Wickham opens the year with a powerful exploration of the unseen realm—the spiritual reality Scripture says is shaping our visible world. Beginning with Jesus’ baptism, where heaven opens, the Spirit descends, and the Father speaks, this message pulls back the curtain on a universe alive with spiritual meaning, conflict, and purpose. From Genesis to the Gospels, the Bible presents humanity as participants in a spiritual battle—created to bear God’s image, resist evil, and do good by the power of the Spirit. This episode sets the foundation for Park Hill’s 2026 theme, Good News, reminding us that while the battle is real, Jesus has already won the decisive victory. Featuring a live Q&A with special guest Ryan Bethea, the conversation dives into spiritual warfare, the authority believers have in Christ, and how to live with courage—not fear—in a world where “things are more than they seem.” This is a call to wake up, stand firm, and step into the good news reality of life in the unseen realm.

What if Christmas is far bigger—and far more confrontational—than we imagine? In this Christmas Eve message, Pastor Evan Wickham takes us to an unexpected Christmas text: Revelation 12. Pulling back the curtain on the familiar story, Scripture reveals a cosmic battle behind the manger—a Child born not only to comfort, but to confront evil and claim His throne as King. Through vivid imagery of wonder, warfare, and worship, this message proclaims the simple yet world-shaking announcement at the heart of Christmas: a Child has been born, and His birth has consequences for the whole universe. Evil is real, but it is not ultimate. The accuser is loud, but he is not Lord. And the war has already been won by the Child who became the Lamb.

As Advent culminates, we turn to the final movement of the Nicene Creed—our confession of the Holy Spirit and the Church. From the Spirit overshadowing Mary at the incarnation to the Spirit forming a people who share God’s life, this message explores how Christmas is not only about Christ coming to us, but God creating a community marked by trust, worship, obedience, and hope. In a skeptical age, we boldly confess: we believe in the Holy Spirit—and we believe in the Church.   Christmas Campaign 2025: https://pushpay.com/g/parkhillsd?src=hpp

What does it really mean to say that God became human—and why does it matter for us today?   In this message from the Nicene Creed series, Matthew Pursley reflects on the profound claim that Jesus is both fully God and fully human, and that this truth is not just theological—it is deeply personal. Drawing from John’s Gospel and the wisdom of the early church, Matt explores how Jesus came all the way down into our humanity in order to heal it from the inside out.   Along the way, he names two common modern distortions of Jesus—Self-Realization Jesus and Self-Discipline Jesus—and contrasts them with the Jesus of Scripture: Emmanuel, God with us, powerful and near. This sermon invites us to rediscover the hope of the incarnation: that whatever Christ assumed in our humanity, He came to heal.   Preached as Matt’s farewell sermon to Park Hill Church, this message is both a rich theological reflection and a heartfelt invitation to trust the whole Jesus—for us.

This week we continue our Advent journey through Light from Light by turning to the Creed’s next seismic claim: “We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ.” In a world full of opinions, preferences, and “build-your-own” versions of Jesus, the Creed anchors us like the tuning note that brings an orchestra into harmony. Jesus’ question to His disciples—“Who do you say I am?”—still confronts every one of us. And the Church’s ancient answer is bold: Jesus is the only saving King, the eternal Son of God, true God from true God, through whom all things were made. This message invites us to recover a bigger, truer vision of Jesus—one that disrupts casual spirituality and calls us into allegiance, repentance, worship, and wonder. Join us as we explore why the earliest Christians staked everything on this Lord… and what it means for us to bring our whole lives under His good and beautiful reign this Advent.

We’re beginning Advent by returning to the center of Christian belief: the Nicene Creed. In a world full of noise, opinions, and spiritual confusion, the Creed serves as a rope that guides us back to truth—just as it has for the Church for 1700 years.   This week, Evan unpacks the opening line: “We believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” Looking to the Shema in Deuteronomy 6, we explore why God gave His people a creed in the first place—how it forms our loyalty, shapes our daily habits, guards us from forgetfulness, and anchors us in the true God rather than the many “other gods” competing for our worship.   As we enter Advent, we’re invited to REMEMBER God’s goodness, REPEAT the Creed as a practice, and RETURN to wholehearted obedience. Join us as we move toward Christmas by confessing the faith that leads us to Jesus, the Light from Light.

This Christ the King Sunday, we explore what it means to worship Jesus as the true King— not just with our songs, but with our whole lives. Through Psalm 46, Jeremiah 23, Luke 1, and the crucifixion scene in Luke 23, we trace the story of a God who gathers His people, confronts empty religion, and reveals His reign through self-giving love on the cross. Drawing from Kierkegaard’s challenge to the “theater model” of church, we step into a deeper, truer vision of worship: God as the Audience, the Church as the performers, and pastors and worship leaders as Spirit-led prompters. In a culture full of competing allegiances and noisy voices, we’re invited—like the humble thief—to bow before the crucified King today, offering Him our undivided worship. Join us as we rediscover the breathtaking majesty of Christ the King and our role in His story.

In a world that feels increasingly unstable, Jesus offers His followers a surprising invitation: Do not fear. Stand firm. Trust Me. In Luke 21:5–19, the disciples look at the temple and see permanence — Jesus sees stones that will soon fall. He prepares them (and us) to walk through seasons of upheaval without losing heart. This week, Evan shares three key announcements that mark a new chapter for our church and invites us to respond the way Jesus teaches: by becoming a people of prayer, listening, and trust. As we look ahead to 2026, we remember — even when the stones fall — we are a people of Good News. Join us as we lean into Jesus’ call to “stand firm and win life.”

This week, Pastor Aleah invites us into Psalm 145 — David’s final song of praise — to rediscover the power of worship in every season. As we stand at the threshold of Advent, we’re reminded that praise is more than a feeling or a song; it’s a way of life. From the Psalms’ ancient rhythms of hope to the story of Corrie and Betsie Ten Boom’s worship in a concentration camp, we see how gratitude and faith become acts of resistance against despair. Through David’s life — flawed, faithful, and anchored in covenant love — we learn that praise doesn’t deny reality, it redefines it. It calls on God’s faithfulness in the midst of fear and transforms suffering into sacred space. Ultimately, Aleah points us to Jesus — the One who turned the cross into victory and showed us that even in darkness, praise is still our greatest weapon.

As a family of three churches in San Diego (Neighbors, All Saints, and Park Hill), we are praying through the whole Bible in 2025, together in unity. To join us, purchase a BREAD journal at one of our Sunday gatherings, or get a free digital copy of our BREAD 2025 journal HERE.

As a family of three churches in San Diego (Neighbors, All Saints, and Park Hill), we are praying through the whole Bible in 2025, together in unity. To join us, purchase a BREAD journal at one of our Sunday gatherings, or get a free digital copy of our BREAD 2025 journal HERE.

As a family of three churches in San Diego (Neighbors, All Saints, and Park Hill), we are praying through the whole Bible in 2025, together in unity. To join us, purchase a BREAD journal at one of our Sunday gatherings, or get a free digital copy of our BREAD 2025 journal HERE.

As a family of three churches in San Diego (Neighbors, All Saints, and Park Hill), we are praying through the whole Bible in 2025, together in unity. To join us, purchase a BREAD journal at one of our Sunday gatherings, or get a free digital copy of our BREAD 2025 journal HERE.

In this special Family Gathering Sunday at Park Hill Church, Pastor Evan shares a fresh and creative look at the story of Zacchaeus — complete with a live skit, laughter, and a meaningful call to community. This message highlights the God who always steps closer, the transforming power of repentance, and the beauty of grace that moves toward others in love. It’s a joyful, hope-filled reminder of what it means to belong to a family shaped by Jesus’ presence.

As a family of three churches in San Diego (Neighbors, All Saints, and Park Hill), we are praying through the whole Bible in 2025, together in unity. To join us, purchase a BREAD journal at one of our Sunday gatherings, or get a free digital copy of our BREAD 2025 journal HERE.

As a family of three churches in San Diego (Neighbors, All Saints, and Park Hill), we are praying through the whole Bible in 2025, together in unity. To join us, purchase a BREAD journal at one of our Sunday gatherings, or get a free digital copy of our BREAD 2025 journal HERE.