Be Amazed: Come and Renew
January 4th, 2026
Introduction: Resolutions vs. Renewal
It’s the first Sunday of 2026, and I can’t help but notice how quickly New Year’s resolutions tend to fall apart. They often begin with good intentions, but most of them lean almost entirely on willpower. We try to do things differently without addressing the deeper issue of being different. That’s why, as I’ve been praying about the year ahead, I haven’t only been asking, “What should we do in 2026?” I’ve been asking, “Lord, do you have a word for us as a church family?” The word that kept coming back to me is a word from Romans 12: RENEW. Paul says, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). This is not a willpower project; it’s a transformation project. Resolutions are usually something I do by sheer force of will. But renewal—especially spiritual renewal—is something God does in me and through me, and then in us together. It goes deeper than trying harder. It’s a new way of thinking that produces a new way of living. So as we begin 2026, here’s the question I want to hold before us: Where might God be at work renewing us—renewing you, renewing me, renewing us—so that we are transformed? Romans 12:1–2 gives us a clear picture of what renewal looks like when God’s work takes hold.
1) SURRENDER
Worship isn’t only a one-hour experience on Sunday morning with a particular style of music. Paul calls us to a whole-life understanding of worship: “Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice… this is your true and proper worship” (Romans 12:1). When Paul says “body,” he isn’t asking me to offer God a “carcass,” as if my physical body is simply replacing Old Testament animal sacrifices. He’s calling me to offer my whole, integrated self—my life as it is actually lived: my thoughts, my habits, my relationships, my work, my worries, my money, my time, my speech, my obedience. The prophets warned Israel that worship can become hollow if it stays external—if something is on the altar, but the worshipper is still holding back. That’s why Paul uses a paradox: a living sacrifice. In other words, don’t bring God an offering instead of you. Bring God you. The Magi show us the difference between merely admiring Jesus and truly worshipping him. Matthew says they “bowed down and worshipped him. Then they opened their treasures…” (Matthew 2:11). Renewal begins with surrender: true worship is whole-life worship—my whole self, offered to God.
2) NON-CONFORMITY
Paul moves from worship to formation: “Do not conform to the pattern of this world.” A “pattern” is a mould. It’s a default script—something I can step into without even realizing it, and if I stay there long enough, it starts shaping me. The world we live in has a formative effect on us. There are patterns that feel normal, but they are often contrary to the values of the kingdom of God. Paul hints at what those patterns produce later in Romans 12: repaying evil for evil, getting trapped in cycles of resentment, being overcome by evil rather than overcoming evil with good (Romans 12:17–21). If I’m not careful, those reflexes become “normal.” And Matthew 2 shows me what this looks like in Herod. He feels threatened by Jesus, so he grasps for control. He cannot worship Jesus because he cannot surrender. His life is driven by fear. That is what the pattern of this world looks like: fear, grasping, control, and self-protection. Renewal requires non-conformity because the world is always pressing me into a mould.
3) RENEWAL
Then Paul gives the heart of it: “be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” This is not a minor adjustment; it’s a deep change—metamorphosis. And the way Paul phrases it matters: it’s ongoing (“keep on being transformed”), and it’s something God does (“be transformed”—not “transform yourself”). Renewal is not me trying to build a new life on top of the same old instincts and cravings. It is God reshaping my mind over time, and that renewed mind produces a renewed life. Paul attaches a promise to this renewal: “Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will” (Romans 12:2). Renewal isn’t meant to stay in the clouds. When God renews my mind, I begin to recognize God’s will as something I can actually walk in—one faithful step at a time.
Law and Gospel: Self-Improvement vs. Christian Renewal
Here’s one of the clarifying differences between trying to change my habits and allowing God to transform me: self-improvement runs on pressure, guilt, and willpower, whereas Christian renewal is a work of the Spirit of God. Paul’s whole appeal begins “in view of God’s mercy” (Romans 12:1). That means everything rests on grace. I’m not transformed by shame, or by proving myself, or by trying harder. I’m transformed as I see what God has done for me in Christ. The law says: “Change, and then you’ll be accepted.” But the gospel says: “You are accepted by mercy—now be changed.” The Magi didn’t go home by another route because they were scolded into better behaviour. They went home changed because they encountered a new King, and everything looked different after that.
Application: Where do I need renewal, and where do we need renewal?
Even though we don’t live in first-century Rome, we still live among powerful moulds that shape us more than we realize. Two of them are especially common:
- The consumer script: “I am what I have.”
This age trains me to grasp for more—more comfort, more upgrades, more experiences—as if life is found in what I can accumulate. But a renewed mind learns open hands: simplicity, gratitude, contentment, generosity.
- The image script: “I am what people think of me.”
This age trains me to curate myself—manage appearances, avoid weakness, protect reputation, control the narrative. But renewed minds learn to live before God: integrity, humility, truthfulness, and freedom from needing to be impressive.
So here’s where I’m starting this year, by praying one sentence—“Lord, renew my mind today.” and asking: “What would being a living sacrifice look like for us as a church family—offering our time, attention, and resources for the sake of others?”
- What would non-conformity look like for us—refusing consumer and image scripts in our shared life, especially in how we treat one another when we disagree?
- What would renewal look like for our mission—becoming a community where outsiders are welcomed, drawn by the light of Christ, and helped to take a next step toward Jesus?
Conclusion: A vision for renewal in 2026
That’s what I’m asking for in 2026: not a church that simply tries harder in its own strength, but a church that is being changed by God’s mercy—renewed and transformed, individually and collectively, more and more into the image of Christ.
Be Amazed: Love Comes Down
Fourth Sunday of Advent – December 21, 2025
The Longest Night of the Year
December 21 is the winter solstice—the day with the least daylight and the longest night of the year. When the sun goes down in the late afternoon, it can feel a little depressing! And yet, if you step outside and look up at the stars, it’s hard not to wonder about all that space out there, and whether anyone is listening.
When I was a kid, I learned about Voyager 1 and Voyager 2—NASA spacecraft launched in 1977—each carrying a golden record with music, greetings in dozens of languages, and images meant to show what human life is like here on planet Earth. In my mind, that story raises a bigger question: if God truly wanted to be known, how would He reveal Himself? Would he send “facts,” or a list of rules, and expect us to fill in the blanks? We live in a world full of opinions about God, and many people are left wondering what is true, who God is (if He’s there), and how anyone could actually know.
This is why John’s Gospel is such a gift. John isn’t writing as a distant philosopher; he’s writing as an eyewitness to the life of Jesus, saying, “I want you to know what I have seen and heard, because it changed everything for me.” John begins his story in a surprising way; he does not start with shepherds, angels, or wise men. In John 1:1–18, he gives us three pictures of Jesus: Jesus is the Word, Jesus is the Light, and Jesus is the One who brings us into God’s family. Christmas is not only the birth of a baby; it is the story of God coming close.
Three Pictures of Jesus in John 1:1–18
1) Jesus is the Word: God Speaking and Acting
John opens with words that echo Genesis: “In the beginning was the Word…” (John 1:1–2). That phrase is not incidental. John is taking us back to creation, where God speaks, and the world comes into being, and he is telling us that Jesus did not begin in a manger. Jesus pre-existed “in the beginning,” eternally with the Father.
John continues: “Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (John 1:3). In other words, Jesus is not merely a messenger delivering God’s message; He is the co-creator of the world. Christmas is not the beginning of Jesus. Christmas is the moment the eternal Word comes near in a new and personal way—in flesh. This matters because plenty of people admire Jesus as a wise teacher. People will quote something like the Golden Rule—“Do to others what you would have them do to you”—as if Jesus is simply an ancient moral guide with helpful advice. But John does not allow us to reduce Jesus to a life coach. His claim is bigger: Jesus is God’s Word come down to us. Advent is not first about what we do to know God; it is about what God has done to make Himself known.
2) Jesus is the Light: Truth That Pushes Back Darkness
Once John shows us that Jesus is the Word through whom everything was made, the next question becomes unavoidable: when He comes into our world—into our confusion, our pain, our sin—what is He like? John answers: “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:4–5). Notice: John does not merely say Jesus brings light, as though He is carrying a lamp. John says that he is the light.
John is pointing us back to Genesis again: “Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3). Light is not only physical illumination; in Scripture, it becomes a picture of what is true, clean, and life-giving. Darkness is confusion, hiding, guilt, and the evil that twists what is good. So, when John calls Jesus “the true light” (John 1:9), he is saying Jesus is good—completely and consistently—and when He shines, He exposes what is false, guides what is lost, and gives life where there has been death.
This ought to shape how Christians talk about sin. When the Bible says, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23), it should never be said with superiority. It should be said with honesty and hope: not “you are terrible,” but “I am deeply flawed, and Jesus is so good.” The point is not that we are better; the point is that Jesus is the Light, and we are pointing others to Him.
3) Jesus Brings Us Into God’s Family: Love That Adopts
If Jesus is the Light, how do we come into that light? John’s third picture answers: “Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12). Notice what John does not say. He does not say, “to all who cleaned themselves up,” or “to all who finally got their spiritual act together.” He says, “to all who received him.” Receiving a gift is not the same as earning wages, and believing is not the same as performing. It is grace for those willing to receive it.
And John says the gift is a new status: “the right to become children of God.” That word “right” matters. It is legitimate standing, real belonging—not as a tolerated outsider, but as a true son or daughter welcomed home. But how can God give that kind of belonging to people like us? John’s answer is not that we climb our way up into God’s family; it is that God comes down into our world to bring us in from the inside. That is why Christmas is not only sentimental; it is the incarnation.
The author Dorothy Sayers offers a vivid picture of this. In her Lord Peter Wimsey novels, Wimsey is a brilliant and successful sleuth, but incomplete, and later Sayers introduces Harriet Vane—an Oxford-educated detective novelist, strikingly similar to Sayers herself. Literary commentators suggested that Sayers “wrote herself into the story” to bring it to a resolution from within. That gives us a glimpse of the incarnation: God does not simply send a clue; the Author of life literally wrote Himself into the story. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14).
Application: Don’t Just Look—Receive
So what do we do with this? John’s answer is wonderfully direct: receive Him. Not merely admire Jesus, or approve of Him as a moral teacher, but entrust yourself to Him. You become a child of God by coming to Jesus with empty hands and saying, “I receive you. I trust you. I need you.” This is what love looks like when it comes down.
This Christmas, don’t only look at the manger and think, “What a cute baby.” Look again and realize what it means: the Word became flesh so that sinners could become sons and daughters. Advent is not only remembrance; it is invitation. If you have been curious about Jesus or unsure what to do with Him, John does not ask you to solve every question first. He invites you to receive Christ—because the deepest gift of Christmas is not improved spirituality; it is adoption into God’s family. And if you already believe, this text invites us to live as people in the Light—humble about sin and confident in His grace
Closing Prayer
Sovereign Lord, we thank You that You did not remain distant. You have spoken—not only in words, but in the Word made flesh. Jesus, You are the Light of the world. Shine into our darkness—into our confusion, our guilt, our fear—and expose what is false, heal what is broken, and guide what is lost. Make us Your sons and daughters by grace and as a church, help us to live in the Light with humility and joy, so that others may see Your goodness. In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Be Amazed: Joy in the Desert
Third Sunday of Advent – December 14, 2025
The Infamous Double-Beep
Have you ever had that moment while you’re out Christmas shopping and you suddenly can’t remember how much money is left on your debit card? That flash of uncertainty points to something deeper: we all know what it feels like to run out of money, energy, hope, strength, or joy.
When I was in Bible college, a few of us drove to 7/11 for Slurpees during an early heat wave. The store was packed, and the line wound through the aisles. When my roommate reached the till, he tapped his debit card and instead of the usual “beeeep” of an approved transaction, he heard “be-beep.” Declined. The clerk leaned forward and announced, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Ewwww… the infamous double-beep. That means there is no money in your account.” My roommate froze in embarrassment until the RA paid the measly $1.50 for the Slurpee our friend couldn’t afford. If you’ve ever had a “double-beep” moment—not just with your debit card, but in the depths of your soul—when you’ve felt like you’re out of resources, then you’re ready to hear the promise of Joy in the Desert.
God’s Invitation to Come
Isaiah 55 opens with a cascade of imperatives inviting God’s people to “Come… come… come… buy… eat” (Isaiah 55:1, NIV). This repetition emphasizes the urgency with which God is calling His weary people who are running on fumes: don’t walk past this; don’t keep going the same way; come—come now. And notice how the commands work together.
First, “come” is an invitation to come as you are—not to “fix yourself” or “try harder,” but simply to come. Second, “buy and eat” is a marketplace image with flipped rules. Isaiah speaks in marketplace language because hunger is what exile feels like: depleted, empty, fragile. But the paradox is this: “You who have no money, come, buy and eat… without money and without cost” (Isaiah 55:1, NIV). That’s the whole point. This isn’t a transaction; it’s a gift. God is offering replenishment to those who cannot pay. Those who receive it are the ones honest enough to admit they’re broke—spiritually, emotionally, relationally. Third, Isaiah tightens the argument: “Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare” (Isaiah 55:2, NIV). This is crucial: the deepest nourishment is not found by sprinting harder through the aisles of life; it is found by listening. In other words, your joy won’t be restored by grabbing more substitutes—it will be restored by returning to the voice of God.
Fourth, “Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live” (Isaiah 55:3, NIV). God is not selling a product; He is offering Himself. The endgame isn’t merely that your schedule improves or your mood lifts. The endgame is that your soul lives, re-centred on the God who restores joy in deserts.
Isaiah isn’t speaking to people who overspent at Christmas. He’s speaking to a people depleted by catastrophe: after the fall of Judah, Jerusalem was devastated, the temple was destroyed, and families were displaced and sent into exile. Long seasons of strain can drain joy out of you. Into that exhaustion, God offers imperatives that don’t crush you—they carry you: come, receive, listen, live.
Why Spend on What Doesn’t Satisfy?
Do you remember the ’90s TV show Supermarket Sweep with contestants sprinting down grocery aisles, filling carts as fast as possible, and winning a cash prize equal to what they had piled into their carts? Many of us live like that: racing through life, hoping the next thing will finally satisfy us. But Isaiah stops us mid-sprint and asks: “Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour on what does not satisfy?” (Isaiah 55:2, NIV). Isaiah isn’t scolding hungry people; he’s exposing how we exhaust ourselves on things that cannot nourish the soul. We spend our lives on what doesn’t last, and then wonder why we’re left unsatisfied.
Jesus Offers Us Himself
In John 4, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well. The conversation reveals a life marked by instability: “You have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband” (John 4:18, NIV). Read through a modern lens, people often assume the issue Jesus is addressing is the woman’s promiscuity. Yet in the ancient world, divorce was ordinarily initiated by the husband, which means her story more likely reflects vulnerability—having been widowed or abandoned. Then Jesus names the cycle Isaiah exposed: “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again” (John 4:13, NIV). Substitute wells can’t hold. Comfort, control, approval, distraction, busyness, and consumption can feel like relief for a moment, but they cannot satisfy. They train you to keep coming back for more. But Jesus doesn’t only diagnose the problem—He offers Himself as the solution: “Whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst… it will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14, NIV). Christ is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s invitation. This is grace you can’t earn and can’t purchase.
Joy in the Desert: Sehnsucht as a Signpost
In Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis describes Joy not as happiness, but as a sudden, piercing longing—an ache for something good and beautiful, yet beyond reach. He called it the German word Sehnsucht. Lewis noticed this longing often arrived uninvited through ordinary beauty—a scene, a line of poetry, an old story, a moment in nature. Earlier in his life, he tried to chase it, but it always slipped away—until he realized the longing wasn’t the destination. It was a signpost, pointing beyond created things to the Creator. So when you feel that ache—when joy feels distant, and you sense you were made for more—don’t ignore it and don’t numb it. Receive it as a signal. Let it turn you toward Jesus. Pray honestly: “Lord, I’m thirsty. Give me your living water” (John 4:14, NIV).
Application: Come, Listen, Return
So how will you respond to Christ’s invitation?
- Stop pretending you’re not thirsty. Name the places you’re emotionally or spiritually dry.
- Be honest about the substitutes. Where have you been sprinting through the aisles of life, filling your cart, trying to quiet the ache?
- Come to Christ—especially while He is near. Isaiah later says, “Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near” (Isaiah 55:6, NIV).
If you’ve never trusted Jesus, this is your invitation to receive Him. If you have trusted Jesus, but you’re in a season of spiritual dehydration, this is your invitation to return to him to be refreshed and be a blessing to others. Small acts offered in Jesus’ name become signposts pointing others to the living Christ.
Prayer of Response
Lord Jesus, we confess our thirst and the ways we have spent ourselves on what does not satisfy.” Teach us to slow down and listen, to stop sprinting through life grasping at substitutes, and to receive what only You can give. Give us Your living water. Make Your life in us a spring that wells up to eternal life, and make us a people who overflow with love and faithful presence in Your name.
Amen.
