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In this message, we explore the electrifying story of Jonathan and his armor bearer in 1 Samuel 14, where two men with fire in their hearts chose to act on the belief that God can save whether by many or by few. The result was nothing short of breathtaking. Their boldness triggered a chain reaction that pulled in an entire army, reclaimed those who had wandered to the wrong side, and even drew out those who had been hiding in fear. The spiritual lesson here is both simple and profound: the fire of God is contagious. When we allow it to burn brightly in our own lives, it does not stay contained. It spreads to our families, our workplaces, our neighborhoods, and beyond. We are reminded through this ancient story that God is not looking for perfect people or large armies. He is looking for faithful hearts willing to say, Lord, I trust you, and then actually move. When we take that step, something remarkable happens. God himself piles on, breathing on our efforts in ways we could never manufacture on our own. The question this message leaves us with is a personal one: are we fanning the flame, or are we letting it die down?

Drawing from Jesus's words in Matthew 5, we are reminded that we are not just people who believe in the light but are called to be the light, wherever we are planted. Whether it is in a workplace, a neighborhood, a school hallway, or even a grocery store checkout line, there is an invitation for something different to radiate from our lives. The image of a lighthouse is particularly striking here. Ships navigating stormy seas at night did not need calm water to find their way, they needed a fixed point of light to orient themselves toward safe harbor. That is exactly what we are called to be for the people around us. And the challenge put before us is simple but searching: when we honestly evaluate the last few days of our lives, have we actually been that light? This is not about perfection. It is about intentionality, about recognizing that the fire of faith on the inside of us is something that must be actively tended, not left to burn down on its own.

How do we find peace when life feels overwhelming? In the final message of our Philippians series, Carl Gulley explores how God’s presence enables us to stand firm, choose joy, and experience peace in the middle of life’s pressures. Through Philippians 4, we’re invited to bring our worries to Jesus, surrender the outcome, and trust that the Lord is near.

Philippians chapter three gives us a remarkably honest and stirring answer. Paul, a man who had tasted everything the world had to offer -- prestige, power, religious status -- declares it all worthless compared to knowing Christ. That declaration is not just poetic language. It came at real cost. And it is precisely because of that cost that he refuses to coast. He presses on. This message draws us into that same posture, reminding us that salvation is not a finish line but a starting point. The life Jesus described in John 10:10 -- full, abundant, overflowing -- is not something we stumble into passively. It is something we strain toward. Paul's race language is deliberate. There is a goal. There is a prize. And the question put before us is whether we are actually running toward it or simply standing at the starting line, grateful we made it there.

What does it actually mean to choose joy? Not the kind of joy that depends on good weather, smooth traffic, or things going our way, but the kind that holds firm even in the hardest seasons of life. In Philippians 2:12-18, Paul writes from prison, facing execution, and still calls us to rejoice. That alone should stop us in our tracks. The passage draws a sharp distinction between working FOR our salvation, which is an exhausting and ultimately futile effort to earn God's favor, and working OUT our salvation, which is the ongoing, Spirit-empowered process of becoming more like Jesus. The difference is everything. One leads to anxiety and striving. The other leads to joy. God works in us so that we can work out what he has already placed within us. That is not a burden; it is an invitation. And when we accept it, we begin to discover the purpose he has written over our lives, a purpose that produces the kind of joy that does not evaporate when circumstances get difficult.

In Philippians 2, we encounter one of the most breathtaking portraits of Jesus in all of Scripture. The God of the universe, enthroned in heaven and receiving endless praise from angels, looked at our broken condition and chose to come down. Not as a king in a palace, but as a baby in a feeding trough. Not to be served, but to serve. And ultimately, not to preserve his own comfort, but to die the most shameful death imaginable so that we could be brought back to God. This is the humility we are called to imitate. It is not weakness. It is not self-erasure. It is the deliberate, costly choice to lower ourselves so that others can be lifted. The passage challenges us to examine where pride might be quietly blocking the flow of the Spirit in our lives, whether in our finances, our relationships, our need for recognition, or our obsession with how others perceive us. Humility, it turns out, is not the enemy of joy. It is the very path that leads us there.

This message takes us into the heart of the book of Philippians, where we find Paul writing from a Roman prison cell, uncertain whether he will live or die. Yet rather than despair, he radiates a joy that defies his circumstances. Through Paul's example, we are challenged to examine what we are really chasing in life. Are we running after a 'runner's high' -- a short-lasting state of happiness -- or are we pursuing something eternal? The distinction between happiness and joy becomes crystal clear when we see Paul worshiping God at midnight in chains, and when we encounter the story of 26 Christians in 16th-century Japan who refused to renounce their faith even at the cost of their lives. The message is both simple and profound: when Jesus is our prize, nothing -- not chains, not suffering, not even death itself -- can steal our joy. This is an invitation for all of us to ask the hard question: what is our prize, and are we ready to choose a joy that lasts forever?

Worship Night walking through the Tabernacle Prayer