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Most of us were raised to fix things. But what if the thing that needs fixing is you? Paul doesn't go easy on us. Without Christ we weren't just struggling. We were dead, surrounded by the world, opposed by the devil, and driven by our own fallen desires. Then come two words that change everything: "But God." This week we look at the grace that brings dead people to life right now, and why being saved "not of works" still means being saved "for good works." Same person, different walk.

Ever feel like everyone else got something you didn't? Paul prayed for a church that was doing everything right. He didn't ask God to give them more. He asked God to open their eyes to what they already had. A hope that holds. An inheritance with your name on it. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead. It's already yours. The question is whether you see it.

If someone took away your job title, your last name, and your phone — could you still tell them who you are? Most of us answer that question with what we do, what we've accomplished, or what somebody said about us a long time ago. And every one of those answers has the same problem: it can be taken from us. In week one of One Letter. Eleven Questions. Life Changing Truth., Pastor Rich Shepherd opens the book of Ephesians with the question underneath all the others — Who Am I? Writing from a Roman prison with nothing left the world would call an asset, Paul answers it in fourteen verses. And he never once tells you to look at yourself. In this message you'll walk through what the text says is already true about you, why identity comes before instructions in the Christian life, and five things that change on Monday morning when you stop auditioning for a name you've already been given.

You'll spend 90,000 hours of your life at work. So who gets them? Most of us have built a quiet wall down the middle of our lives — God gets Sunday, the job gets everything else. This Labor Day message tears that wall down. What it looks like to be a great employee, a great boss, and why burnout almost never comes from too much work — it comes from the wrong work.

Every one of us is leaning on something. A person. A position. A paycheck. A party. And sometimes the name engraved on the door is our own. Psalm 146 walks up to every one of those and gently takes it down — not to leave us with nothing, but to show us Someone who can actually hold the weight. In this final message of Summer in the Psalms, we look at where this psalm sits and why that matters. Psalm 146 opens the last five songs in the book — five straight psalms of nothing but praise — written to a people who had come home from exile to a smaller temple, patched walls, an empty throne, and coins stamped with a foreign king's face. Their question was simple: who is actually in charge? And the psalmist answers it in a way nobody expected. He proves this King is King not by listing conquests, but by listing the people nobody else had time for — the oppressed, the hungry, the prisoner, the blind, the stranger, the widow. A thousand years later, a young carpenter stood up in His hometown synagogue, read that same list out loud, and said, "Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." Princes return to the ground and their plans perish the very same day. The Lord shall reign forever.

Somebody calls and says they're swinging by, and suddenly you're an athlete. Dishes in the dishwasher. Mail in a drawer. And everything you don't want seen goes down the hall behind a closed door. Most of us live that way too. A version of us for work, a version for church, a version online that's been filtered and cropped. And a room nobody gets to see. Psalm 139 says God has already been in that room. He mined it. He saw all the way to the bottom. And He stayed. This week: what it means to be fully known and fully loved at the same time — and why you don't have to give the tour anymore.

Twenty-six verses. One line repeated twenty-six times: "For His mercy endures forever." God didn't run out of material — He knows how fast we forget. In this message, Pastor Rich walks through the Great Hallel, the song Israel sang at Passover and the song Jesus sang on His way to Gethsemane. You'll see why gratitude has to get specific, why you don't have to choose between grief and thanksgiving, and why the choir sometimes has to march out ahead of the army. If you're in a season where the evidence isn't on your side, this one's for you. The refrain doesn't change, because the God behind it doesn't either.

David's diagnosis in Psalm 103 isn't unbelief — it's amnesia. Nobody says, "Pastor, I've forgotten who God is." But forgetting what God has done shows up sideways: still dragging around a sin from 1998, or entering the fifth crisis convinced this is the one where God finally lets go. It's not a doctrine problem. It's a memory problem. In this message we walk through David's five benefits — forgiven, healed, redeemed, crowned, satisfied — why he reached for the sky when he needed a ruler big enough to measure mercy, and why the God who "knows our frame" specializes in second flights for people who came in molting. Plus five practical steps for Monday morning at 6:40 a.m.

There's a house at the end of the street. The frame is still standing, but the lights went out on the inside. Some of us feel like that house. In this message from Psalm 85, we ask the question that has started more revivals than any sermon: "Will You not revive us again?"

What do you do when trouble doesn't come one at a time, but as a pack? The bills, the diagnosis at 2am, the rumor moving faster than the truth — sometimes you did everything right, and everything still went wrong. In this message from our Summer in the Psalms series, we step into one of the most dangerous nights of David's life — killers at the door, no escape in sight — and discover what he reached for instead of panic. Psalm 59 is God's field manual for surrounded people, and it gives us three moves anyone can make when life closes in: go to God first, rest in His perspective, and rise with a song. Whether you're in a hard season right now or walking with someone who is, this message points to a greater rescue — the One who stayed surrounded so you'd never be abandoned.

What are you covering? A single strip of tape on a basement door unraveled the most powerful presidency on earth—and three thousand years ago, a king's secret nearly ate him alive from the inside out. In this message from our "Summer in the Psalms" series, we walk through Psalm 51, David's raw prayer of repentance written in the wreckage of his greatest failure. Discover the three ways every person deals with sin, why the only sin God cannot forgive is the one we won't confess, and the staggering truth at the heart of it all: God does not despise broken people—He restores them.

In 2010, thirty-three Chilean miners were buried alive half a mile underground — and for seventeen days, no one on the surface knew if they were even alive. Their story raises the oldest question of faith: Is anybody coming for me? Three thousand years ago, King David wrote a song from the far side of a pit. In this message from our Summer in the Psalms series, we walk through Psalm 40 and discover four calls for anyone stuck in the miry clay: wait like it matters, remember the rock, delight to obey, and don't restrain your words — because your rescue is somebody else's invitation. Whether you're in a pit of grief, debt, a quiet marriage, or one of your own making, Psalm 40 points to a Rescuer who came all the way down so you could be brought up, set on the Rock, and given a brand-new song.

"My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" They're the rawest words in the Bible — a cry most of us have felt but were afraid to pray out loud. In this message from our Summer in the Psalms series, Pastor Rich steps into Psalm 22: a song that refuses to pretend the dark away, yet somehow ends in the dawn. We'll trace how a shepherd's ancient prayer became the very words Jesus spoke from the cross — and what that means for you the next time God feels far away. If you've ever wondered whether faith has room for your hardest questions, start here.

You sent the text. It said "Read 10:42 AM." Then… nothing. Sometimes prayer feels exactly like that. In Psalm 9 & 10, we find a God big enough to judge the nations — and near enough to remember the one person convinced He's stopped looking. Part 2 of Summer in the Psalms.

Same sky, opposite conclusions. Carl Sagan looked at the vastness of space and called us "a mote of dust." Three thousand years earlier, David looked up at that same sky and wrote the most dignifying words ever penned about humanity: "What is man that You are mindful of him?" In this opening message of our Summer in the Psalms series, we journey from the size of the heavens to the worth of your soul—and finally to the face of Jesus Christ. If your view of God has shrunk, if shame keeps telling you you're nothing, or if you've never said yes to the King who climbed down to find you, this one's for you. Look up. Look in. Look to Christ.