Advertise on podcast: Mercy Hill

We’re all familiar with religious parody and satire directed at the church. From the absurdity of Monty Python to biting internet memes, we’ve seen plenty of it. And, if we’re honest, sometimes we deserve it. In Matthew 21, Jesus takes on the religious establishment of His day. He drives the money changers out of the temple. Like an Old Testament prophet, He curses a fig tree, illustrating the lack of spiritual fruit among the religious leaders. The chapter closes with a parable about tenants who go rogue, rejecting the agreement they had made with the landowner. The story moves so quickly from reality into absurdity that it almost feels like comedy. But Jesus’ point is anything but funny. His words hit so close to home that the chief priests and Pharisees immediately step up their efforts to arrest Him.

Can someone live a life of rebellion against God and still find forgiveness? Can someone spend their entire life doing all the right religious things and still be far from Him? This Sunday, we’ll explore a shocking statement Jesus made to the religious leaders of His day—one that challenges our understanding of righteousness, repentance, and the incredible reach of God’s grace. Join us as we discover that righteousness isn’t found in religious performance, but in repentant faith in Christ.

Jesus has been teaching his disciples that humility, mercy, and reconciliation are defining marks of life in the kingdom of God. Then Peter steps in with a question we’ve all asked at some point: “How often am I required to forgive someone?” It’s hard to imagine a more practical or relevant question. We’ve all experienced relational conflict, difficulty, heartbreak, or betrayal. And we all need a way forward. We need a path toward restoring a relationship or, at the very least, finding a sense of resolution and peace within ourselves. Jesus responds with a shocking answer that turns our understanding of forgiveness upside down. It’s a challenging answer, and one you and I still need to hear today.

In Matthew 18, Jesus’ disciples ask: “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of God?” In other words, Jesus, what does it take for us to be successful in your kingdom? How can we rise to the top? What do you expect from us? Instead of giving them a list of results to achieve, he tells a parable about a shepherd who pursues a lost sheep. The shepherd’s relentless care for his sheep reveals what true greatness looks like in God’s kingdom.

This Sunday, we continued our series, Kingdom Stories, as we explore the parables of Jesus. A parable is a story that uses something familiar, like leaven or farming, to help us understand a spiritual reality In Matthew 13:47–50, Jesus tells a fishing story to help us understand God’s righteous judgment. At first glance, the story can feel unsettling because it causes us to ask, “What does my future hold?” But if we look a little closer, we discover that this parable also contains good news which is pointing us toward mercy and assurance.

This Sunday, we continued our Kingdom Stories series with two of Jesus’ shortest parables—just three verses in Matthew 13—but they carry a powerful truth. Jesus tells us the Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field and like a merchant searching for a pearl of incredible value. In both stories, when something of surpassing worth is discovered, everything else suddenly looks different. We spend so much of our lives chasing things we believe will make us happy, secure, successful, or fulfilled. But Jesus invites us to see something infinitely more valuable: life with Him and His Kingdom.

What do a mustard seed, a batch of dough, and the Kingdom of Heaven have in common? According to Jesus, quite a lot. In Matthew 13:31–33, Jesus tells two short parables about things that begin almost unnoticed but eventually become something much greater. A tiny mustard seed grows into something large enough to provide shelter, while a small amount of leaven quietly works its way through an entire batch of dough. Jesus wasn’t giving a lesson in gardening or baking—He was revealing something important about how the Kingdom of God works. This Sunday, we explored what Jesus meant when He compared the Kingdom of Heaven to a mustard seed and leaven. How does God take something small and turn it into something greater than we could imagine? What does that growth look like in our own lives? And what might God want to do through the small, seemingly insignificant things we offer Him?

Have you ever looked around — at your life, your family, this world — and wondered why God doesn't just clean house already? Why the evil stays. Why the wicked seem to prosper. Why the mess doesn't get pulled up by the roots right now. This Sunday we're in Matthew 13:24-30 and 36-43, where Jesus tells a story about a farmer, a field, and an enemy who sneaks in at night to plant weeds among the wheat. The servants want to rip the weeds out immediately. The farmer says wait. That's not passivity. That's patience with a purpose. God isn't slow — He's letting the harvest come at exactly the right time, and He's protecting the wheat in the process. We talk about what it means to live faithfully in a field that isn't weed-free yet. How to hold onto hope when the wait feels long. And what the harvest tells us about who God really is.

My dad grew up with three brothers. They were all close in age and, to put it mildly, a little rambunctious. Needless to say, he has stories. Stories I’ve heard over and over again. When I was young, those stories were amazing to hear. I couldn’t get enough. I thought they were hysterical and, at times, unbelievable. Then, as I got older and the stories started to repeat, I thought they were annoying. Now, those same stories are precious to me. They explain, in a strange way, who I am by reminding me where I came from. I’m sure your family has stories too. Stories that have been told around the dinner table, passed down through generations, or repeated so many times that everyone knows what comes next. These stories shape us. They help define who we are and the world around us. Jesus, like my dad, was a storyteller. We often call His stories parables. Jesus used familiar, everyday things to teach profound spiritual truths. In the book of Matthew, Jesus used parables to help people understand God’s kingdom and how they should respond to it. These stories, like our family stories, have the power to shape us in significant ways. This Sunday, we started a new series called “Kingdom Stories.” Over the next few weeks, we’ll look at the parables Jesus told in the book of Matthew and discover what they teach us about God’s kingdom and our place in it.

Paul had a strange kind of ambition. Not the kind that chases titles or applause. The kind that pulls him toward places where Christ hasn't been named yet. In Romans 15:14-21, Paul tells the church in Rome exactly why he preaches where he preaches. He's not interested in building on someone else's foundation. He wants to go where the gospel hasn't gone. That should unsettle us a little. It's easy to let our faith get comfortable. To keep our witness inside people who already know. To call that "ministry" and leave it there. But Paul's ambition wasn't about him. It was about who still hadn't heard. This Sunday we're asking a simple question: who hasn't heard from you? Not because you need to have all the answers. Not because you need a stage. Just because someone in your life — a neighbor, a coworker, a family member — is still waiting to hear it from someone who actually knows them.

Hope isn't wishful thinking. It's what keeps us moving forward. In Romans 15:4-5 & 13, Paul reminds us that the Scriptures were written to give us endurance and encouragement — so that we could have hope. And that hope doesn't come from our circumstances or our own willpower. It comes from "the God of hope," who fills us with joy and peace so that we can overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Life has a way of wearing us down. Discouragement is real. But we're not meant to press on by gritting our teeth and hoping things get better. We press on because our hope is anchored in Someone who never runs out of it.

Have you ever been somewhere and thought to yourself, “Something just seems off”? For instance, maybe you were at Chick-fil-A and the cashier didn’t say, “My pleasure.” Those two words are so woven into the culture of Chick-fil-A that it feels strangely out of place when you don’t hear them. In Romans 15:4–7, Paul paints a beautiful picture of the church using words like “hope,” “harmony,” and “welcome.” But as we compare that picture to our own experience, we may find ourselves thinking that something feels off. We read about the hope Jesus gives, but do we feel hopeful? We see the harmony Scripture describes, but are we experiencing it? We hear that we’re called to welcome one another, but is that reflected in the culture of our church?

Growth was never meant to happen alone. In Romans 15:1-4, Paul reminds us that those who are strong carry a responsibility — not to please themselves, but to bear with others and build them up. Even Christ didn't live to please himself. He gave himself for others, and that's the pattern we're called to follow. Formation isn't just something that happens to us in isolation. It happens in community — when we choose to encourage, strengthen, and carry each other instead of just looking out for ourselves. This Sunday we talked about what it looks like to live for someone else's growth, not just our own — and how that's actually the path to real spiritual maturity.

For the past several months we’ve walked through the rise and fall of Israel’s kings. We’ve seen Saul’s failure, David’s triumphs and sins, Solomon’s wisdom and downfall, a divided kingdom, and the nation’s continual longing for a faithful King. To conclude this series, we’ll leave the Old Testament and turn to Luke 1:30–33. Before Jesus ever preached a sermon or performed a miracle, an angel showed up with a promise. Gabriel told a young girl named Mary that her son would be great — called the Son of the Most High, given the throne of his father David, reigning over Jacob's house forever. No pressure, right? That's not just an announcement about a baby. It's an announcement about a King — a different kind than anyone expected, born in a manger instead of a palace, but promised an eternal throne all the same. This week we asked a simple question: if Jesus really is the King Gabriel described, what does that mean for how we live under his rule right now?

There's a moment on Mount Carmel where Elijah stands alone against 450 prophets of Baal, and he asks Israel a question that still lands like a gut-punch today: "How long will you waver between two opinions?" Not exactly subtle. But then again, neither is God. This week we were in 1 Kings 18, and it might be the most dramatic showdown in the whole Old Testament. Altars. Fire. A very sarcastic Elijah taunting false gods that don't answer because — spoiler — they can't. And then, in front of everyone, the real God shows up in a way nobody could miss. But here's what gets me every time I read this: the question isn't really about ancient idols. It's about ours. The things we quietly serve when we think no one's watching — comfort, approval, control, the version of life we've built for ourselves instead of the one God's actually calling us to. We all have an altar. The question is who's on it.