The Gateway Church

The week the world got its first trillionaire, Psalm 49 has something to say. Written by the Sons of Korah—descendants of a man who had everything and reached for more—this ancient wisdom song cuts through the noise with a bluntness that feels almost rude: people, despite their wealth, do not endure. Matt Crummy traces the story behind the psalm and the subtle danger of ambition dressed up as piety. What Korah couldn't accept, his family line turned into a song—and it turns out the question it asks is still the right one. Is nearness to God enough?

What if the secret to happiness isn't what most of us are chasing? Opening a summer series in the Psalms, Dominic Jackson starts where the collection does—Psalm 1—and the question it puts on the table: what does it actually mean to be blessed? Along the way, the sermon moves from that question into a deeper one about formation: not just what we read, but what we chew on. What we consume shapes who we become, and Psalm 1 offers a clear-eyed theory of the difference between a life that's rooted and one that's just drifting. And as a bonus: a working definition of biblical meditation that involves cows.

Paul's instruction to build up one another turns out to be less about mentorship and more about the everyday texture of how we talk to each other—and whether we actually listen. Working through Ephesians 4:29–32, Dominic Jackson looks at what "unwholesome talk" actually costs: the person speaking, the person being spoken to, and God himself.

How do you confront someone you love without losing them? In this message, Pastor Dominic works through Galatians 6:1–2 and Matthew 18:15–20 to build a practical, honest guide to spiritual restoration—one that takes both courage and humility. Before you send that text or schedule that coffee, there are questions worth asking yourself first. And when you do have that conversation, Jesus gives us a framework that's as relevant today as it was 2,000 years ago.

When researchers asked a thousand people to describe Christians in three words, the top answer wasn't loving or faithful. It was judgmental. Working through Matthew 7:1–6, Dominic Jackson takes one of Jesus' most familiar — and most misused — teachings and asks what he actually meant. Why are we unqualified to judge? What is the fundamental attribution error doing to the way we see other people? And what does it mean that the plank and the speck are made of the same wood? This sermon doesn't resolve the tension between judging and being judgmental — that's next week — but it does ask a harder question first: whose log is in whose eye?

On his last night of freedom, Jesus didn't perform a miracle. He did a chore — the lowest, most menial one imaginable. Working through John 13 and Galatians 5:13–14, Dominic Jackson takes the foot-washing story and looks at it from angles that are easy to miss after twenty readings: that Jesus washed Judas' feet too, that the Greek word translated "example" literally means tracer or template, and that the most significant acts of service usually don't make the news or the photo. The invitation isn't to do loving things. It's to become a loving person — one small act at a time.

The New Testament is full of instructions for how the church should treat itself — unity, love, humility. But in 1 Peter 4, written during one of the bloodiest periods in church history, Peter reaches for a word that isn't about the church at all. Not philadelphia — love of brothers and sisters — but philoxenos: love of the stranger. Working through 1 Peter 4:7–11, Dominic Jackson traces what hospitality actually means in its biblical sense, why Peter's call to extend it without grumbling puts our own excuses in sharp relief, and what it might look like for a church to function less like a members’ club and more like a hospital.

Worship doesn't just express what you love — it trains you to love it more. In part two of a two-week look at Romans 12, Matt Crummy picks up where last week left off and explores what worship actually does over time. Drawing on the Drake Relays, a failed high school track career, two British climbers who may or may not have reached the summit of Everest, and Alexander Schmemann's image of a stereoscope, he builds a case for why transformation is slow, embodied, communal, and worth it. Counter-formation isn't about being different for its own sake. It's about being slowly reoriented — body, habit, and desire — toward the kingdom of God, until you can see reality in a new dimension.

What if worship is less about thinking correctly about God and more about being formed by him — body, habit, and desire? Romans 12 opens with a "therefore" that hinges on everything Paul has just argued about the mercy of God, and Matt Crummy uses that hinge to explore what worship actually is. Drawing on James K.A. Smith, Augustine, and Eugene Peterson, he traces the idea that we are fundamentally creatures of desire, shaped by the liturgies we practice — whether we name them that or not. The stadium concert, the shopping trip, the weekly rhythm — all of it is forming us toward some picture of the good life. The question is which one.

What does Jesus actually mean when he says to deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow him? Working through Matthew 16:24–26, Dominic Jackson takes three instructions that are easy to flatten into one vague call to try harder — and pulls them apart. Denying yourself isn't self-loathing. Taking up your cross was the most scandalous image imaginable to its original audience. And following Jesus means letting go of the version of Jesus you've been trying to control. The invitation at the end of it all isn't about doing more. It's about learning, as Eugene Peterson puts it, how to die — and discovering that what looks like burial is actually being planted.

The same empty tomb. Two groups of people running in opposite directions with completely different stories to tell. Working through Matthew 28, Dominic Jackson opens with a simple observation — that how we look at something often matters more than what we're actually looking at — and carries it all the way to the resurrection. Are we living in the best moment in human history or the worst? Is Easter the greatest hoax ever told or the beginning of everything? The answer, he argues, depends entirely on where you're standing. For skeptics and longtime believers alike, the invitation is the same one the angel gave the women at the tomb: come and see.

Peter is a fisherman, an ordinary man who walked on water and then sank, who declared he would never deny Jesus and then did it three times before sunrise. Working through snapshots of Peter's life across the gospels, Dominic Jackson traces the story of someone who keeps failing and keeps getting restored. From the beach where Jesus first calls him to the charcoal fire where Jesus finds him after the resurrection, it turns out to be less a story about Peter's faith and more about what Jesus does with people who have already counted themselves out.

When Jesus is arrested in the garden, he already knows exactly what is coming—and he surrenders anyway. Working through John 18, Dominic Jackson traces the arrest of Jesus and holds up two contrasting ways of moving through the world. Jesus humbles himself while others seek power. Jesus protects while others attack. Jesus gives his life while the world chooses death. At the center of it all is a choice the crowd is forced to make between two prisoners—a political revolutionary ready to destroy Rome's enemies by the sword, and a nonviolent rabbi who heals the ear of the soldier sent to arrest him. Dominic asks which of the two most of us would honestly choose, and what that reveals about where we actually place our hope.

What does it look like to actually be alone with your thoughts—and why do most of us avoid it? In Luke 5, at the height of his popularity, Jesus doesn't lean into the momentum. He withdraws. Dominic Jackson looks at the practice of silence and solitude in the life of Jesus and asks what it might look like to recover that practice in a world designed to keep us distracted.

What does Christian art have to do with how followers of Jesus should relate to the world? Dominic Jackson opens with the question he wrestled with as a young film student—why is so much Christian art so bad—and uses it as a doorway into a bigger one: how should Christians actually see the world around them? Working through the tension between John 15 and John 3:16, he proposes a framework of four kingdoms—the kingdom of God, the kingdom of the world, the kingdom over the world, and the kingdom of me—as a way of navigating what it means to be in the world but not of it.

What does it look like to follow Jesus when what you really want is what he can give you — security, community, meaning, answers? In John 6, Jesus calls out a crowd still thinking about yesterday's free meal and declares himself the bread of life. The people want a sign. They want bread from the sky. They want what God can do, not God himself.Dominic Jackson explores what it means to hunger for God himself rather than the benefits that come from him, and introduces the church's Lenten fast as an invitation to disrupt the ordinary and rediscover an appetite for God.

Dominic Jackson explores Jesus’ command to “be perfect” and confronts the quiet pressure many feel to measure their spiritual lives through performance, comparison, and self-evaluation. Drawing from the Sermon on the Mount and the story of the rich young ruler, he reframes perfection not as flawlessness, but as wholeness—a life fully oriented toward God. Rather than calling us to achieve moral perfection, Jesus invites us into a deeper trust that reshapes how we understand sin, growth, and identity.At the heart of the message is a challenge to release the need for control and to surrender whatever we rely on for security, meaning, or worth. Spiritual formation, Dominic suggests, is not about striving harder or managing behavior, but about learning to live from a place of being already known and loved by God. As we let go of what we cling to and trust God more fully, we begin to experience the kind of completeness Jesus describes—one rooted not in our efforts, but in his presence.

As the Movement series continues, Dominic Jackson turns to the theme of formation—the lifelong process of becoming like Jesus. Rooted in Matthew 28, this sermon looks at the Great Commission as an ongoing invitation to apprenticeship. To follow Jesus is to be continually shaped: receiving and responding to God’s love, embracing his teachings, embodying his rhythms, and walking in community with others.Dominic challenges a shallow view of faith that stops at a moment and invites us into something deeper and slower. Formation is not about perfection or information—it’s about transformation over time. Like clay in the hands of a potter, or even something as ordinary as a bar of soap carved into something beautiful, our lives are being shaped every day. The question is not if we are being formed—but by what—and whether we are becoming more like Jesus.

In a moment marked by anger, division, and confusion, Dominic Jackson turns to the words of Jesus in Matthew 5 and asks a deeper question: what if the problem isn’t just what’s happening around us—but something beneath it? Through a striking contrast between the “way of the kingdom” and the “way of the empire,” this sermon invites us to reconsider how we respond to injustice, conflict, and cultural tension. Are we being formed more by power, outrage, and control—or by the upside-down vision of Jesus in the Beatitudes?Dominic explains how the kingdom of God doesn’t advance through force, domination, or even winning—it moves through humility, mercy, peacemaking, and self-giving love. In a world that often looks like empire, this is an invitation to become people who embody a radically different way.

Continuing the Movement series, Dominic Jackson explores what it means to be a people of presence—with God, with one another, and in our own lives. Anchored in Matthew 28, he reframes the Great Commission not just as a call to go, but as a call to be with: a God who draws near to us, a community that shows up shoulder to shoulder, and a life that resists distraction in order to be fully attentive. From mountaintop encounters in Scripture to the quiet reality of our daily habits, Dominic asks a simple but searching question: not is God present?—but are we?In a distracted and disconnected age, this sermon offers both challenge and invitation. We are given the gift of our time—1,440 minutes each day—and the opportunity to share it with others and with God. True presence isn’t accidental; it requires intentionality, attention, and pursuit. Whether in prayer, community, or ordinary moments, this message calls us to be fully where we are—present to the God who is already present with us.

In this opening sermon of the Movement series, Matt Crummy explores a word that many of us instinctively distrust: authority. Drawing from Matthew 28 and the famous image of The Treachery of Images, he invites us to consider how easily we confuse distorted images of authority—coercion, control, manipulation—with the real thing. In contrast, the risen Jesus meets a group of hesitant, doubting disciples not with force or pressure, but with nearness, presence, and a steady kind of authority that heals and invites.Rather than demanding certainty or performance, Jesus shares his authority and sends his followers into the world with a simple, lived rhythm: show up, draw near, listen, and go. This sermon reframes the Great Commission not as pressure to achieve, but as participation in the life of Jesus—an authority grounded in love, legitimacy, and relationship. For anyone carrying wounds or skepticism around authority, this is an invitation to rediscover it as something that frees rather than constrains.

As Gateway steps into a new year, Dominic Jackson invites the church to reflect on a simple but searching question: what kind of community are we becoming? Through two contrasting stories—one of radical welcome and one of painful rejection—he explores how the church can either embody the heart of Jesus or distort it. Drawing from Hebrews 13, Dominic reframes hospitality not as entertaining or hosting, but as something far deeper: loving the stranger as family, not just making space for them, but making them feel like they already belong.In a culture marked by loneliness, fear, and disconnection, this vision of hospitality is both urgent and costly. Dominic challenges us to move beyond surface-level friendliness into real, shared life—where invitations are accepted, relationships are pursued, and community is formed across differences. Whether you tend to hold others at a distance or struggle to let others in, this sermon is an invitation to become the kind of church where people don’t just visit—they find a home.

Matt Crummy reflects on joy through the story of the Magi in Matthew 2:1-12. Beginning with Edward Hopper’s painting Nighthawks and the idea of liminal, in-between spaces, he explores how Advent situates us between Christ’s first coming and his promised return. The Magi become a picture of people who reorient their lives around what they love most, traveling far to seek the long-promised King. Drawing on Daniel’s role as chief of the wise men, Thomas Aquinas’s definition of joy as “caused by love,” and Augustine’s line that “our hearts are restless until they rest in you,” Matt invites us to pursue our highest loves, encourage these loves to bloom into joy, and let joy move us into worship and a renewed imagination for who Jesus really is.

Dominic Jackson reflects on what it means to let “the peace of Christ rule in your hearts” (Colossians 3:15) in a world that feels anything but peaceful. He begins by examining anxiety and invites us to see that peace is not simply calmness or the absence of conflict, but shalom—wholeness, restoration, and reconciliation in the midst of the mess. Christ’s peace comes as a gift we receive rather than an achievement we earn. We are invited to look forward to the healing of all things, look back to Christ’s first coming, look around at our present worries with honest prayer, and then pass peace on as peacemakers in our homes, workplaces, and world.

Dominic Jackson explores Advent as a season of hope in the waiting—rooted in God’s promises, centered on the coming King, and forming us into a redeemed people. He reflects on the tension we all feel between fear and expectation and invites us to distinguish between hope and optimism: hope is not dictated by circumstances but sustained by God’s faithfulness. With Jeremiah 33 as a guiding text, this message draws on the experience of waiting for life-changing news and the Bible’s language of expectant, stretched waiting, calling us to look back on God’s past faithfulness so we can live forward in trust as we await Christ’s promised arrival—past, present, and future.

Dominic Jackson wraps up our series on beauty by inviting us to rediscover mystery as a way God draws us into wonder, trust, and a deeper relationship. Through Elijah’s encounter with God in 1 Kings 19—where God is not in the wind, earthquake, or fire, but in a gentle whisper—we learn that God often meets us in ways we wouldn’t expect, yet exactly as we need. The New Testament deepens this invitation by naming Christ himself as the mystery of God (Colossians 4:3; 1 Timothy 3:16; Colossians 2:1–3), calling us to seek not just answers about God, but to truly know him.

Dominic Jackson explores the hard, honest question of suffering through John 16 and Romans 8. Jesus does not hide the reality of trouble, but he does promise his presence and his victory. This sermon invites us to name pain without minimizing it, to rediscover lament as a faithful practice, and to trust that God is at work even when healing or resolution feels far away. We are reminded that creation groans, we groan, and the Spirit even groans with us—and that the cross reveals God’s pattern of turning what is darkest into redemption and hope.

In week 3 of Beauty: See Again What God Calls Good, Matt Crummy turns to the created world as a living witness to God’s presence and love. Drawing especially from Psalm 104, this sermon reminds us that responding to creation with praise is not extra or peripheral, but a sign that we’re seeing a fuller picture of what’s real. We’re invited into a simple, transformative rhythm: direct our attention to the world already declaring God, learn to read what creation’s “speech” is revealing, and be reformed as this goodness reshapes our desires, pace, and way of life. The sermon closes with Augustine’s stirring invitation to “question” the beauty of earth, sea, sky, and stars—until creation’s confession leads us to the One who is beautiful and unchangeable.

In week 2 of Beauty: See Again What God Calls Good, Dominic Jackson explores how our identity is formed and healed in Christ. Starting with Jesus’ command to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:30–31), this sermon reframes self-love as learning to see ourselves as God sees us—so we can love others more truly. Drawing on Paul’s repeated language of being “in Christ” (Ephesians 1:3–14), Dominic invites us to resist the pull of competing voices that name us and, instead, to receive our truest identity as chosen, adopted, forgiven, and sealed by the Spirit. Along the way, he contrasts WWJD with the deeper question of what Jesus has already done for us, and what it looks like to live from that reality today.

Dominic Jackson opens our series by asking a foundational question: What does God think is beautiful? Centered on Matthew 26 (with parallels in Mark 14), this sermon reflects on the woman who anoints Jesus with costly perfume and how her devotion looks like waste to some but is called beautiful by Jesus himself. The message invites us to examine how perspective shapes our worship, how easily we judge others' faith, and how Jesus helps us recognize beauty in people we might overlook or dismiss.

Dominic Jackson closes 1 John by arguing that Scripture frames the true opposite of love not as hate but fear—“perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4). He traces how fear is instilled in us through advertising, news, and social media, then shows how our anger and hatred often mask deeper fears—of loss, insignificance, or lack of control. Drawing on voices like Nouwen, Thurman, and Baldwin, he shows how beneath each sin lies a temporary identity crisis. In Christ, however, Paul’s “to live is Christ, to die is gain” becomes a settled posture that defangs fear.Practically, the path isn’t sin-management but turning toward God in the moment of fear—through prayer, community, and “seeking first the kingdom” (Matthew 6). The closing “homework” from 1 Corinthians 13 (replace “love” with your own name) exposes our limits and points to Jesus as the only one who truly fits that definition. His perfect love—not our performance—drives out fear.

John warns his churches, “Don’t believe every spirit—test the spirits” (1 John 2:26–27; 4:1). In this sermon, Dominic Jackson names how half-true “American gospels” can sound biblical yet quietly edit the good news. This week he focuses on two influential versions—Christian nationalism and the liberation/social gospel—asking one simple question of each: Is this the gospel?Anchoring in 1 Corinthians 15, he re-centers us on the crucified and risen Jesus as the only gospel, inviting self-examination: Where have we added qualifiers, swapped persuasion for power, or confused social outcomes with heart transformation? The call is to remain in Christ, let the gospel stay the gospel, and let everything else be a response to it.

Dominic Jackson explores the theme of false teaching, drawing from the biblical text of 1 John 4:1-3. He begins by contextualizing the New Testament's warnings against false teachers, noting that unlike Old Testament warnings about external threats, these were about dangers arising from within the church. Dominic argues that the most dangerous false teachings today are not outright lies but are partial truths, similar to the Gnosticism John was addressing. He analyzes several modern "American gospels," such as the "Doomsday Gospel," the "Evangelical Gospel," and the "Prosperity Gospel," evaluating the truths they contain and the ways they distort or fall short of the complete biblical gospel. Dominic concludes the first part of this two-part sermon by restating the core gospel from the scriptures and encouraging us to reflect on which pseudo-gospels we might be tempted to follow and to re-engage with the biblical accounts of Jesus' life.

Exploring 1 John 3, Matt Crummy challenges us to imagine love not only as sentiment but as embodied action. “Let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth,” John writes—and Matt walks us through what it looks like to hold love and truth together without collapsing one into the other. He explores how genuine Christian love is not defined by emotional intensity or external performance, but by a Spirit-formed posture of active care and obedience.Matt also addresses how this kind of love reshapes our relationship to self-doubt and guilt. When our hearts condemn us, God is greater than our hearts. When our hearts are at peace, we are emboldened to live with confidence before God. Assurance, then, is not found in sinlessness but in a love that flows from abiding in Christ. This passage points us to a new kind of interior life—one grounded in obedience, trust, and the Spirit’s witness that we truly belong to God.

In this sermon on 1 John 3, Matt Crummy explores the astonishing truth that we are called children of God—not metaphorically or aspirationally, but as a present and permanent identity rooted in God’s initiating love. This identity, given not earned, shapes how we see ourselves, how we respond to sin, and how we live in hopeful anticipation of what we will become. Matt contrasts being named by the world with being named by God, calling us to resist self-definition and instead live from the reality of our belovedness. Rather than viewing sin as legal infraction, he points to a relational vision of holiness—one shaped by the love of the Father and the hope of becoming like Christ.

Dominic Jackson teaches from 1 John 2, where John draws a sharp contrast between love for the world and love for the Father. In a culture shaped by craving, self-promotion, and fleeting promises, John warns that the desires of the flesh, the eyes, and pride are all passing away. Instead, those who do the will of God remain forever. This passage also introduces the idea of “antichrists”—those who depart from the church and deny Jesus. Rather than stir up panic or suspicion, John urges the church to remain rooted in Christ and confident in the truth they have received. In a time of cultural confusion and religious distortion, we’re invited to ask where our love and loyalty truly lie.

Dominic Jackson continues our journey through 1 John by exploring what it means to live in the light through the command to love. Though John calls it both an “old” and “new” command, the heart of it is simple: love one another. But this love is not a vague sentiment or shallow tolerance; it’s a love defined by the life and self-giving of Jesus. When we withhold love, John says, we walk in darkness, no matter what we claim to believe. To walk in the light is to live in a way that makes space for others to be seen, known, and welcomed. This passage challenges us to ask whether we are just avoiding hate or actively practicing love.

Dominic Jackson opens our series on 1 John by reflecting on how the Christian faith begins not with ideas or inspiration, but with a person—Jesus Christ—whom John and the apostles heard, saw, and touched. The letter begins with eyewitness testimony and a call to deeper fellowship: not just with God, but with one another. In a world where many are uncertain what is true or who can be trusted, John grounds faith in what is real, embodied, and eternal. The invitation is not to escape into private spirituality, but to enter a shared life animated by joy, honesty, and love. This is how we walk in the light—not alone, but together in the truth.

Dominic Jackson teaches on the parable of the mustard seed from Matthew 13, where Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to something small, hidden, and slow-growing. The seed’s size hides its true power; it becomes a tree that offers rest, hospitality, and shelter. In an era that prizes instant results and visible success, Jesus invites us to trust the quiet power of small beginnings. The kingdom grows not by force but by faithfulness. Our task is not to obsess over outcomes but to sow and tend, even when progress feels invisible. Through this parable, we’re reminded that God’s work often begins beneath notice, but it never stays that way.

Dominic Jackson teaches on Jesus’ parable of the rich fool in Luke 12, where a man builds bigger barns to store his abundance but loses his life before he can enjoy it. The story is not a simple condemnation of wealth, but a confrontation with greed—the subtle shift of trust and allegiance away from God and toward self-sufficiency. Jesus names this as a vision problem: a darkened eye sees the world through scarcity and fear, while a clear eye sees generosity and grace. The parable calls us to loosen our grip on what we cannot keep and to become rich toward God—not by earning status, but by opening our lives to the kingdom’s abundance. What we do with our money reveals what we believe about God.

Continuing our Parables series, Dominic Jackson teaches on Matthew 21:28-32 and the story of the two sons, where Jesus contrasts words with obedience. One son refuses his father but later repents and acts; the other promises compliance but never moves his feet. In this tension, Jesus exposes the danger of honoring God with our lips while our lives remain unchanged. True faith, Dominic reminds us, is not merely mental agreement or verbal profession but trust embodied in action. Repentance is more than saying “I’m sorry”—it is a turning, a 180, from stubborn refusal toward obedience rooted in God’s grace. The kingdom belongs not to the polished or religiously impressive, but to those whose hearts are turned and whose lives bear the fruit of repentance and trust.

Matt Crummy explores Jesus’ parable of the workers in the vineyard, where God’s justice and mercy meet in ways that unsettle our instincts about fairness. The landowner pays each worker the same, keeping his promise to the first while showing unexpected generosity to the last. For those measuring worth by comparison, this feels like loss, and Jesus names it the “evil eye”—a vision clouded by envy. In contrast, the “good” trusts that God’s resources are abundant, not scarce, and that his generosity to others does not diminish his care for us. The kingdom is not a zero-sum marketplace but a place where grace is given as a gift, not a wage, and where blessing is multiplied when it is shared. We are invited to lay down rivalry, resist the pull of comparison, and see others’ gain as a sign of the same goodness we ourselves receive from the hand of the generous landowner.

Dominic Jackson examines Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, highlighting how pride, comparison, and self-righteousness can obscure our need for grace. While the Pharisee presents a flawless religious résumé, his posture reveals a heart focused on self and performance. The tax collector, in contrast, offers no defense—only humility and a cry for mercy. We are invited to consider how our motives shape our actions, how easily we reduce faith to merit, and how Jesus calls us to bring our empty hands, not our accomplishments. True righteousness, we’re reminded, begins not with moral superiority but with need that is recognized, named, and brought to God.

In this sermon on Luke 15, Dominic Jackson reflects on the parable often called “The Prodigal Son.” Drawing out the inner lives of all three characters—the younger son, the older brother, and the father—Dominic explores how the story exposes not just rebellion, but resentment, grief, and the longing for reconciliation. The younger son runs from home in search of freedom, only to find himself empty and ashamed. The older brother stays but seethes, convinced that faithfulness should earn him control. The father’s actions disrupt both patterns—he watches, runs, and welcomes with joy, refusing to let either son’s vision of justice define the terms of relationship. The parable presses into how we see God, what kind of home we believe we’re returning to, and whether we can receive grace when it comes.

In this sermon on Matthew 25:14-30, Dominic Jackson continues the Parables series by turning to the parable of the talents. Dominic explains how the parable is less about ability and more about responsibility, especially in light of who we believe God to be. Jesus presents a master who entrusts his wealth to servants with varying amounts and then departs, inviting them to act in his absence. The contrast between the faithful servants and the third servant hinges on relationship rather than results. The third servant’s fear and distorted image of the master lead him to bury what he’s been given. We are challenged to consider how our view of God shapes our stewardship and whether we are hiding or risking what has been placed in our hands.

In this sermon on Matthew 13, Dominic Jackson opens the Parables series by exploring the parable of the sower. He reflects on how Jesus’ stories shape our perception and judgment, inviting self-examination rather than critique of others. Through the lens of a familiar farming image, Jesus challenges his listeners to consider the judgments they’re making and where true discernment comes from. We’re reminded that the kingdom of God grows in hidden, often misunderstood ways—and that we’re called to tend first to the soil of our own lives.

In this concluding sermon of Gateway’s series on biblical genres, Matt Crummy explores the importance of becoming spiritually fluent readers of Scripture in a complex, distracted age. Using 2 Timothy 2:1-9, he urges the church to move beyond surface-level Bible reading to cultivate embodied moral fluency—a way of life formed by deep, communal, repetitive engagement with Scripture. Drawing parallels to learning jazz or a language, he encourages a slow, humble apprenticeship to Jesus. Matt walks through Michael Gorman’s seven-step exegetical method to help us grow in our ability to interpret Scripture faithfully. In a world of algorithmic answers and self-isolation, he reminds us that God’s Word is never chained—and calls the church to become people shaped by wisdom, endurance, and the living Word.

Dominic Jackson examines how biblical teaching—particularly in the wisdom and epistolary traditions—forms a people who live in step with God’s character. Drawing from passages in Proverbs, Ephesians, and 2 Timothy, he reflects on the difference between information and formation, showing how instruction in Scripture is meant to shape not just what we know but how we live. Dominic challenges us to move beyond passive listening and embrace a way of life grounded in trust, obedience, and shared accountability. Instruction, in this light, is not just about learning but about becoming who we are created to be.

Dominic Jackson explores how the biblical genre we often skip over—lists of names—tells a profound story of God’s faithfulness across generations. Focusing on the genealogies of Jesus in Matthew and Luke, Dominic shows how these seemingly dry records reveal a Messiah who is both the rightful heir to David’s throne and a son born into a messy, complicated, and very human family tree. Through Joseph, Jesus inherits royal status; through Mary, he inherits the bloodline of David without the curse attached to Solomon’s descendants. God orchestrates every detail, even across centuries of dysfunction, scandal, and brokenness, to fulfill promises. And in doing so, he not only brings beauty from brokenness but also adopts us into that same redemptive family story. The genealogy of Jesus is no longer just his—it’s ours too.

Dominic Jackson explores how God sometimes communicates through embodied, performative actions that disrupt and confront. Focusing on Ezekiel 4 and other prophetic sign acts throughout Scripture, Dominic traces a form of divine speech that uses physical action as a message through shocking, symbolic warnings intended to prompt and expose. He explains how these acts were not random but deliberately crafted to call God’s people back from sin and toward redemption. We are challenged to recover the power of embodied witness, pointing not only to Ezekiel’s dramatic acts but to the one who ultimately bore our sins in his body: Christ himself.