Salem Community Church

Life moves in seasons, and seasons shape thoughts more often than they change destiny. The narrative traces Joseph’s arc from betrayal and a pit to slavery, false accusation, imprisonment, and eventual rise to rulership, emphasizing that God’s presence did not evaporate amid suffering. Hard seasons test identity; what matters is refusing to let external hardship rewrite internal conviction. Freedom begins in the mind: a heart that refuses bitterness, offense, and self-pity can carry favor and authority even while circumstances remain constrained.

This sermon traces the quiet stretch between Malachi and the arrival of John the Baptist and reframes silence as a season of divine preparation rather than abandonment. It opens by urging believers to share personal stories of God’s work as a form of discipleship and to hold fast to a chosen scripture for meditation. Attention then shifts to the four hundred years often labeled a silence in the biblical narrative. That interval lacks new prophetic canon but overflows with providential activity: empires shift, languages spread, roads are built, synagogues rise, and cultural conditions form to receive the coming of Christ. The apparent blankness in Scripture does not mean God stopped ruling; it means the voice of recognized prophecy paused while history was being arranged.

The Bible stands as intentionally authored revelation: every story, name, and command exists to disclose God’s character and invite obedient trust. Achan’s story in Joshua exposes how divine instructions were specific and non-negotiable—marching around Jericho in silence and treating every item in the city as devoted to the Lord. Victory came through exact obedience to God’s revealed method, not human ingenuity, and the failure to honor what God set apart turned a private transgression into corporate catastrophe. Achan did not act from ignorance; he saw, coveted, took, and hid—an inward progression that culminated in placing personal desire on the throne of his heart rather than submitting to God’s lordship. That withholding did more than satisfy appetite: it fractured trust, invited defeat at Ai, and revealed how individual disobedience hurts the wider community.

Zacchaeus appears as a short, wealthy tax collector who climbs a sycamore tree to see Jesus because obstacles—crowds, reputation, and inner shame—keep him distant. The climb captures a universal human instinct: when the most important thing seems out of reach, people scramble to prove worth through effort, image, or religious performance. Sin does more than make people imperfect; it leaves humanity unable to bridge the gap to God by its own labor. The crowd reacts with scorn when the outsider moves toward Jesus, but Jesus does the unexpected: stops, looks up, calls the man by name, and invites himself to the man’s house. That action reframes worth and access—salvation arrives not because of Zacchaeus’s climb but because of Jesus’s initiative.

Shaping God to fit personal comfort proves spiritually dangerous. When people demand that God operate according to their emotional frameworks, cultural models, or childhood wounds, they effectively climb onto the throne of their own hearts. Such control may preserve an appearance of faith—prayers, songs, church attendance—but it sacrifices true submission and reduces the divine to a manageable tool. Scripture insists that God’s wisdom and ways exceed human logic; insisting otherwise makes God too small to save and robs life of peace that surpasses human control.

What does it really mean to follow Jesus?In this message, we step back and recap the core truths from our Essentials series—coming back to the foundation of what matters most in our faith. From the Garden of Eden to the moment Jesus called the fishermen, we see a clear pattern: God has always been pursuing people, inviting them out of where they are and into something greater.In the beginning, sin caused separation—but God didn’t walk away. He moved toward us.And when Jesus stepped onto the shore and called ordinary fishermen, He did the same thing—inviting them to leave what was familiar and follow Him into a new life with purpose.That same invitation still stands today.This message will challenge you to evaluate where you are, what you’re holding onto, and whether you’re truly following when Jesus says, “Come, follow Me.”

The narrative turns to Daniel in the lion’s den. Babylon had carried Daniel into exile decades earlier; now Persia rules and Darius elevates Daniel for his integrity. Jealous officials craft a trap by convincing the new king to decree that no one may pray to any god or man except the king. Daniel continues to pray three times daily, windows open toward Jerusalem, and the officials catch him in the act. The king binds the law and casts Daniel into the den, tormented through the night by the weight of his decision. At dawn an answer arrives: an angel shuts the lions’ mouths, and Daniel emerges intact because he trusted God.

The Essentials series returns to a foundational New Testament story: the calling of fishermen Simon (Peter), Andrew, James, and John at the Sea of Galilee. Jesus interrupts ordinary labor—men hauling nets, mending ropes, living with storms and the smell of fish—and issues a decisive summons: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” The call overturns rabbinic norms where students sought teachers; instead, the teacher pursues the unprepared and unqualified. The summons functions as both command and invitation: not a polite request but a life-altering commission that reorients identity, time, and work.

Stories from childhood Sunday school become load-bearing truths rather than starter anecdotes. Exodus 32 provides a vivid case: a people who had witnessed plagues, a crossing of the sea, and the thunderous presence on Sinai nevertheless pivoted toward an idol when waiting felt like delay. Drift shows up as gradual deviation, not sudden rebellion—an impatience that reshapes God into something visible, manageable, and timely. The people gave worship language and covenant words to a golden calf, proving that religious vocabulary can persist even as alignment with God erodes.

The paralytic represents every person trapped by inward paralysis—sinful impulses, fear, guilt, and patterns that resist mere effort. Scripture exposes the inability to reform by will alone; the solution lies in surrender to the one who holds authority to forgive. The four friends model relentless, incarnational love: community must carry burdens, create access to Jesus, and risk disruption for another’s restoration. Miraculous healing then confirms authority; the physical restoration validates the deeper declaration of forgiveness. The Son of Man title functions as a claim of divine authority to forgive, shifting the controversy from a question about human sympathy to a question about God’s kingdom rule.

Unanswered prayers test trust more than belief. Abraham never abandoned belief in God, yet he misaligned his trust with God’s methods and timing; trusting a promise proved different from trusting the process. The Genesis 22 episode reframes testing: God calls Abraham to offer Isaac, not to tempt cruelty but to expose where ultimate trust lies. Abraham’s obedience—rising early, binding Isaac, raising the knife—displays trust without clarity, control, or emotional comfort. Isaac’s question, “Where is the lamb?” becomes every believer’s question in seasons of need.

Practical application moves from theory to posture: believers are invited to stop treating biblical heroes as templates for self-achievement and to start trusting in the one whose finished work secures victory for the community. The aim is not simply depth for depth’s sake but contact with immovable reality — a God who shows up when giants loom and whose victory removes threats for everyone. The final summons is to return to the essentials, to let old stories hold the weight of adult life, and to live from substitutional grace rather than from the anxious attempt to be the hero.

This message challenges us to take an honest look at where our hearts really are — not just what we say we value, but what we live for each day. When life throws unexpected curveballs and plans change (like canceled services), it’s easy to lose focus or go through the motions — but God calls us to something deeper. God wants our hearts fully aligned with Him, not divided by distraction, fear, or comfort. This sermon dives into how we can re-center our priorities, ground our faith in Christ, and live out Kingdom values with courage and clarity.

Mark’s account of the boat on the sea becomes a portrait of a God who intentionally seeks relationship and tests the depth of following. Jesus doesn’t simply teach from a distance; he calls ordinary, unfinished people out of their nets with the simple command, “Follow me,” inviting them to carry baggage, fail, and be formed in proximity to him. True discipleship, the narrative argues, is not proven by association or religious participation but by observable evidence—lives gradually reshaped so the dust of their rabbi clings to them. The New Testament never writes a checklist entitled “Christian”; instead it defines what it means to be a disciple, a child of God, and a saint: a person formed by obedience to the Father, led by the Spirit, adopted rather than self-made, and directionally distinct from surrounding culture.

Discipleship is framed as training: discipline that issues from care, not control. Rules without relationship breed rebellion; formation requires relationship so that instruction lands as care and purpose. The daily, mundane practices—small acts of crucifying the flesh, asking hard questions, taking inventory of the heart—are the instruments of transformation. Consistency, not spectacle, carves character over time much like water shaping the Grand Canyon.

The scene on the Sea of Galilee reframes faith itself. Jesus sends the Twelve into headwinds while He goes to pray, then walks on the water—intending to pass them by. That detail matters. It reveals a Lord who refuses to reduce discipleship to a stop at our boat. The aim is not merely rescue at a destination but relationship in motion. From Eden’s garden to Enoch, from Noah to Abraham, from the wilderness to Micah’s call to “walk humbly,” Scripture paints a single storyline: God wants to walk with His people. Presence before performance. Companionship over mere compliance. Movement with Him, not perfection for Him.

I love that Christmas invites us to ask a simple but piercing question: What child is this? Not which child, as though we’re sorting options, but what kind of child is this? I shared the backstory of the carol—written by William Chatterton Dix in 1866 after a season of illness and depression—because its question still searches us. Life gives us plenty of opportunities to let questions pull us away from God. The problem isn’t that we question; it’s where those questions take us. So we turned to Luke 2 and watched how God met ordinary people in an ordinary night with an extraordinary interruption.

When God seems late, He is often aligning more than we can see—people, places, and the condition of our hearts—to accomplish more than we asked for. The incarnation happened “in the fullness of time,” not a moment too soon or too late. That same precision still governs His care over your life. He won’t miss your moment.

We kicked off a new Christmas series by tracing the story behind Silent Night—from a water-damaged organ in Oberndorf to a battlefield ceasefire on the Western Front. Peace broke in where it made no sense. That’s the backdrop for a question many of us are living: what do you do when life doesn’t go as planned? Some of us are still carrying delays, wounds, and curveballs we never expected. So I turned to Luke 1 and the lives of Zechariah and Elizabeth. Scripture calls them righteous and blameless, yet they lived decades in barrenness. Their story reminds us that a barren season doesn’t mean a broken life. Faithfulness isn’t a shortcut around pain; it’s how we walk with God through it.

The story of Israel at the Red Sea is more than a tale of deliverance; it is a living pattern of how God leads, shapes, and releases us into freedom. After witnessing God’s mighty miracles in Egypt, the Israelites quickly forgot His faithfulness when faced with a dead end. Yet, God had not abandoned them—He had intentionally led them to a place where only His power could make a way. The wilderness, with all its pressure and uncertainty, was not a punishment but a place of transformation. God’s route for us is often longer and more winding than we would choose, but it is always strategic, designed to prepare our hearts for what lies ahead.

Colossians 3 calls us to a radical transformation: to put off the old self and put on the new, to live as those who are hidden with Christ in God, and to set our minds on things above. Our identity is not in our past, our failures, or even our present struggles, but in the reality that we have died, been buried, and raised with Christ. This new life is not just about behavior modification or managing sin at the surface level; it’s about uprooting sin at its source, refusing to compromise, and allowing Christ to form us from the inside out.

The call to follow Jesus is not just about attending church or adopting a set of moral principles; it is about becoming a true disciple—a disciplined one—who surrenders every part of life to Him. The story of the prodigal son in Luke 15 is a powerful reminder of what it means to leave home, to hunger for something more, and ultimately to discover the heart of the Father. The younger son’s request for his inheritance was not just rude; it was a rejection of relationship, a desire for the blessings of the father without the boundaries that come with being part of the family. This is the human condition: we want God’s gifts, but we resist His authority and the safety of His boundaries.

So often, we believe that our stories are only worth sharing when they’re polished, edited, and free from the messiness of real life. But the truth is, the parts of our stories we most want to hide—the broken, embarrassing, and even shameful chapters—are the very places where God’s grace shines brightest. Looking at the story of the Samaritan woman in John 4, we see that Jesus intentionally left the crowds to meet with one person whose life was marked by pain and isolation. She came to the well at the hottest part of the day, avoiding others because of her reputation, yet it was in that place of brokenness that she encountered Jesus. Her willingness to be authentic and vulnerable about her past became the catalyst for many in her town to believe.

n the journey of faith, it’s easy to believe that God is only present in our mountaintop moments—when life is good, victories are won, and everything seems to fall into place. But the truth is, God is just as present in our valleys, in the moments of struggle, failure, and confusion. Faith isn’t meant to be compartmentalized or seasonal; it’s meant to be woven into every aspect of our lives, just like an invasive vine that overtakes everything it touches. This kind of faith doesn’t require us to be loud or radical in personality, but rather to allow our trust in God to permeate our work, relationships, and daily routines.

Faith is not meant to be passive or hidden; it is meant to be invasive, like the mustard seed Jesus described in Matthew 17. Just as the mustard seed overtakes its environment, our faith should spread and influence every area we enter—our homes, workplaces, and communities. The story of Ehud in Judges 3 is a powerful example of how God uses those whom the world deems unqualified or discredited. Ehud, a left-handed man from the tribe of Benjamin, was overlooked and likely considered unfit for military service. Yet, God chose him to deliver Israel from oppression, showing that God delights in using what others see as weakness or disqualification.

In a world that feels increasingly heavy with tragedy and violence, it’s easy to become numb, angry, or sad. Recent events have left many of us feeling as though we’ve reached a breaking point, the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Yet, in the midst of this darkness, there is a call not to retreat into fear or passivity, but to rise up with active, passionate faith. The challenges we face are not merely political or social, but deeply spiritual. We are reminded that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual forces that seek to sow chaos and despair.

So often, we find ourselves standing just inside the doorway of faith, content with the assurance of salvation but hesitant to venture deeper into the fullness of life that Jesus offers. The Christian journey is not meant to be a static experience, but an invitation to explore the vast inheritance, power, and joy that God has set aside for us. Like a child content with making mud pies in a slum, we can become easily satisfied with lesser things, missing out on the “holiday at the beach” that Christ is calling us toward. The disciplines of fasting and Bible reading are not mere religious duties, but pathways into deeper intimacy with God, shaping our minds and hearts to recognize His voice and experience His transforming presence.

The book of Judges offers a sobering look at a people who, in the absence of godly leadership, repeatedly chose to do what was right in their own eyes. This period between Joshua and the first king, Saul, was marked by cycles of rebellion, hardship, repentance, and deliverance. The judges were not courtroom officials, but military leaders and rulers raised up by God to rescue Israel when they cried out in distress. Yet, the heart of the problem was not just external enemies, but internal compromise and spiritual drift. The refrain, “everyone did what was right in his own eyes,” is not just an ancient diagnosis, but a mirror for our own times.

First Peter is a letter written by the apostle Peter to a group of believers scattered throughout the Roman Empire, many of whom were facing intense suffering and persecution for their faith. Peter, who knew firsthand what it meant to fail, to be restored, and to walk with Jesus, writes to encourage these Christians to set their hope not on their circumstances, but on the living hope found in Jesus Christ. He reminds them that their identity is no longer defined by their past, their failures, or even their suffering, but by the grace and mercy of God who has given them a new family and an imperishable inheritance.

In a world overflowing with opinions but starving for truth, it’s easy to lose sight of what truly matters. We find ourselves more connected than ever, yet more isolated and alone. The paradox of our age is that we are eternal beings who rarely entertain eternal thoughts. To navigate this crisis, we must let God’s Word become our daily filter and blueprint, shaping how we see the world and interact with others.

Job’s story is not one of despair, but of trust. Even when he cannot perceive God’s presence, Job declares, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.” This is the heart of faith: trusting God’s character when his actions are mysterious, holding onto hope when answers are absent. Job’s journey shows that God is not offended by our questions or our pain. Instead, God’s mercy is revealed in his refusal to leave us in comfort and complacency. He loves us too much to let us remain unchanged, and so he allows us to be shaped, even through suffering, for a greater purpose.

In this powerful message, Pastor Nathan challenges us to shift our focus inward as he unpacks what Jesus meant about judging others while ignoring the "plank" in our own eyes. Drawing from Matthew 7 and supporting scriptures, we are reminded that while it's easy to call out the visible sins of others, we often overlook our own hidden struggles—whether it’s gossip, gluttony, binge-watching, or bitterness.This convicting yet grace-filled word helps us examine the “hidden intents” of our hearts and invites us to pursue spiritual growth with humility and honesty.

Shame is a powerful force that often drives us into hiding, isolating us from God and from one another. From the very beginning, in Genesis 3, shame entered the world as Adam and Eve disobeyed God and immediately felt exposed and humiliated. Instead of running to God, they hid, sewing fig leaves together in a desperate attempt to cover themselves. This instinct to hide is not unique to them; it is something we all experience. We hide behind perfectionism, success, avoidance, and even religious activity, believing that if anyone truly saw our flaws, we would be rejected. Yet, at the root of all this hiding is a deep desire to be accepted and loved.

This inspiring sermon reminds us of our true identity and purpose in Christ. It emphasizes that knowing who we are in Jesus is essential to living with self-worth and confidence, rather than relying on performance or external validation. The message explores how performance-based validation leads to insecurity and an identity crisis, and highlights the importance of understanding that our worth comes from God's grace, not our achievements. Using the example of John the Baptist, the sermon encourages believers to stand firm in their calling and purpose, regardless of external pressures or comparisons. It also shares a heartfelt story about embracing our unique gifts and design, reminding us that we are made intentionally by God for a specific purpose only we can fulfill. Tune in to be encouraged to walk confidently in your God-given identity and purpose.

This podcast episode features a powerful and practical sermon on managing anger biblically. Pastor Justin Collett shares insights from Scripture, emphasizing that God is slow to anger and instructs us to be slow, smart, and short with our anger. He highlights the importance of noticing our body's physical signs, inputs, and patterns that trigger anger, and encourages logging anger instances to recognize recurring themes, especially when we're rushed or confined.The message stresses the significance of being "smart" with our anger by asking whether our reactions are reasonable, feasible, and if we can be okay without getting what we want. Pastor Justin advocates for constructive, clear, and kind communication and shares stories of forgiveness, including the inspiring example of Ed Mutum, who forgave those who murdered his father and even opened his home to a man released from prison.Finally, the sermon calls believers to be "short" with their anger, dealing with resentment quickly before it turns into bitterness or resentment that can damage the soul. The overarching message is that through Christ, we can learn to be slow, smart, and short with our anger, allowing His love and forgiveness to transform our lives and others.

Have you ever paused long enough to realize that God was there all along? In this message, we’re reminded that whether we’re aware or not, God is always with us—just as He was with Jacob at Bethel (Genesis 28). The “whispering spot” is not a location we find, but a posture we choose: to be still, to quiet our striving, and to acknowledge the divine presence that surrounds us. Drawing from Psalm 46 and 1 Corinthians 2, we explore how stillness becomes a sacred invitation to hear the mind of Christ and to encounter God in the ordinary.

In a world filled with noise and chaos, it’s easy to believe that hearing God’s voice is complicated or even impossible. Yet, God has spoken and continues to speak, and one of the clearest ways He does so is through the Bible. The Scriptures are not just a collection of ancient writings, but the “key of keys”—our central reference point for truth, much like Baddox Rock was for the city of Washington, D.C. The Bible is our final authority on all matters of faith and life, inspired by God and written by flawed people under the flawless guidance of the Holy Spirit. Despite being written over 1,500 years by 40 different authors from various backgrounds, the Bible carries a single, unified message: God’s relentless pursuit to redeem and restore His people.

In the midst of all our problems, it’s easy to think that the problems themselves are the issue. But the real challenge is that our ears have become deaf to the voice of God. The problems we face are often just symptoms of a deeper need: to discern and recognize God’s voice in our lives. When we learn to hear Him, we find the solution to a thousand problems, because His voice brings clarity, direction, and peace that no circumstance can provide. In a world filled with noise, confusion, and busyness, it’s essential to slow down and cultivate stillness, because God’s voice comes not in the chaos, but in the quiet.

So often, the real issue in our lives is not the problems themselves, but our inability to hear God’s voice clearly above all the other noise. Like the opera singer who lost his ability to hit the right notes because he was deafened by his own voice, we too can become deaf to God’s voice when other voices—our own, the enemy’s, the culture’s—are louder. The heart of the matter is not just seeking solutions to our problems, but learning to discern what God is saying in the midst of them. Healing, breakthrough, and deliverance are all important, but what we need most is to hear God’s voice, because in His voice is found our identity, direction, hope, and peace.

In the story of Jonathan in 1 Samuel 14, we see how God chooses to work through ordinary people who are willing to trust Him and step out in faith. Jonathan, the son of King Saul, recognizes the threat of the Philistines—a common enemy to the people of God—and refuses to sit idly by while danger looms. Instead of waiting for overwhelming odds or a perfect plan, Jonathan, accompanied only by his young armor bearer, chooses to act with bold faith, believing that “nothing can hinder the Lord from saving by many or by few.” This act of courage is not rooted in self-confidence or bravado, but in a deep love for God and a conviction that God is able to do the impossible.

This parable from Luke 15:8-10, is a mirror for our own spiritual lives. Just as the woman’s coin was lost in her own house, there are things in our relationship with God that can be misplaced or neglected, even while we remain “in the house”—active in church, present in worship, and outwardly engaged. Jesus’ audience was upset that He spent time with those considered “lost,” but the deeper challenge is for those already in the house to take inventory: What have we lost or allowed to slip away in our walk with Christ?

The story of Solomon offers a powerful lesson about beginnings, endings, and the journey in between. Solomon, the son of David and the third king of Israel, started his reign with a heart that sought after God. When given the opportunity to ask for anything, he chose wisdom and knowledge to lead God’s people, rather than riches or power. God honored this request, granting him not only wisdom but also wealth and honor beyond any other king. Yet, the trajectory of Solomon’s life reveals that how we begin is not always how we finish. Despite his strong start, Solomon’s heart eventually drifted from God, influenced by relationships and choices that led him away from wholehearted devotion.

As we celebrate Baptism Sunday, we are reminded that baptism is not the means of salvation, but the outward sign of an inward transformation. It is the public declaration that we belong to Jesus, much like a wedding ceremony publicly affirms a private commitment made in the heart. Baptism marks the beginning of our journey as disciples, launching us into a life of following Jesus and making Him known to the world.

In today's gathering, we explored the profound truth of Jesus' resurrection and its implications for our lives. Throughout history, many have claimed divinity, but only Jesus came down to meet us in our brokenness, embodying Emmanuel, God with us. His journey from heaven to earth was not just to be among us but to find us in our struggles and offer redemption. This is the essence of the resurrection: Jesus, who was sinless, took on our sins, was crucified, and rose again, defeating death and offering us eternal life.

In today's message, we explored the profound connection between God's wrath and His love, a concept that may initially seem paradoxical. The Garden of Gethsemane serves as a poignant backdrop for this exploration, where Jesus, fully aware of His impending betrayal and crucifixion, experiences deep anguish. This moment is not just about the physical suffering He anticipates but the spiritual weight of bearing the sins of humanity. The "cup" that Jesus refers to is symbolic of God's wrath, a theme recurrent throughout the Old Testament, where God calls His people to repentance. This wrath is not arbitrary but is the flip side of His love, much like a loving parent who would fiercely protect their children from harm.

In the upper room, Jesus didn’t ask the disciples to strive—He asked them to sit with Him. To be present. To prepare a table and abide. As we explored John 15, we saw the power in remaining in Him, trusting that He remains in us. And in Jeremiah 29:11, we were reminded that the heart of God is for us—His plans are filled with hope, peace, and purpose.This message called us to rest, to dwell, and to sit with Jesus—not just in the sacred moment of Passover, but in every moment we are invited to abide.

In "Made by Moments," we reflected on how pivotal moments shape our faith and future. Mark 14:1-11 shows us the powerful moment when a woman’s act of worship prepared Jesus for His burial, while Genesis 50:20 reminds us that even what others intend for harm, God uses for good. This message challenged us to trust that God knows what He is doing with our lives—even in difficult seasons. When we surrender control and keep our hands off the plans, we allow God to deliver us through every moment, shaping us for His greater purpose.

We explored the profound call to perseverance in our Christian journey, as highlighted in Mark 13:13. Jesus speaks of enduring to the end, emphasizing that our walk with Him is not a sprint but a marathon. This journey requires steadfast faith, especially amidst trials and tribulations. The darker the world becomes, the brighter our light should shine, pushing us out of our comfort zones to be a beacon of hope and truth. Perseverance, or "hupomenos" in Greek, means to remain or undergo, and it involves suffering patiently while remaining steadfast in faith. This is not a passive endurance but an active engagement with our faith, relying on God's strength rather than our own.

In today's exploration of Mark 12:41-44, we delve into the profound lesson Jesus teaches about giving and the heart behind it. As Jesus observes the treasury in the temple, He witnesses the rich contributing large sums and a poor widow offering two small copper coins. This scene is not just about the act of giving but the spirit in which it is done. The rich gave out of their abundance, seeking recognition and validation from others, while the widow gave out of her poverty, offering all she had to live on. This act of faith and sacrifice caught Jesus' attention, prompting Him to highlight her offering as more significant than all the others.

In life, we often find ourselves in moments of chaos and confusion, much like my experience in San Antonio, where unexpected encounters with snakes disrupted what was meant to be a relaxing vacation. These moments of chaos can be likened to the dilemmas we face in our spiritual journey. When life becomes chaotic, our focus can become diluted, and we may find ourselves struggling to maintain our spiritual bearings. This is where we find ourselves in Luke 24, with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, grappling with the aftermath of Jesus' crucifixion and the confusion of His resurrection.