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In Matthew 17, Peter is asked whether Jesus pays the temple tribute, and he quickly answers yes—but Jesus uses the moment to reveal something much greater about who He is. The temple, the priesthood, the sacrifices, and even the ransom money of the Old Testament were all shadows pointing toward a greater reality, and that reality had now arrived in Jesus Christ. The temple needed a lamb, but Jesus is the Lamb of God. It needed a priest, but Jesus is the High Priest. It received ransom money, but Jesus would give His own body and blood as the ransom for mankind. As the Son, He was free and owed nothing, yet He still chose to pay so that no unnecessary offense would stand in the way. Even the miracle of the coin in the fish’s mouth points us back to the kind of King He is: the One who had every right to be exempt, yet willingly paid the price—not because He had to, but because of who He came to save.

Throughout Scripture, the name El points us toward God and appears in names and titles that reveal something about who He is—El Shaddai, God Almighty; El Elyon, God Most High; and Eliezer, “God is my help.” The word ezer carries the idea of help, aid, protection, and assistance given in a time of need, and again and again Scripture declares that the Lord Himself is our help and our shield. Moses could name his son Eliezer because he had personally experienced the God who delivered him from Pharaoh’s sword. But knowing the name of our Help should lead us somewhere. When Jesus looked at Matthew and said, “Follow me,” the word carries the idea of joining Him, accompanying Him, and becoming His disciple. The God who surrounds us, protects us, strengthens us, and comes to our aid is also the God who calls us to rise from where we are and walk with Him. Our help is in the name of the Lord—and when He calls, our response is to follow.

The Original Recipe

In Genesis 19, Lot and his family were given four clear commands that all pointed in one direction—away from Sodom and toward safety. Lot lingered, his wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt in a region where salt became associated with judgment, barrenness, and desolation. The message is a warning about what happens when our hearts remain attached to places God has called us out of. Scripture repeatedly tells us to flee, come out, and move away from what leads us back into bondage. But there is another kind of transformation available to us. In 2 Corinthians 3:18, Paul says that as we behold the glory of the Lord, we are changed into the same image from glory to glory. The question is not simply what are you leaving behind, but what are you continually looking toward? If we keep looking back, we risk becoming shaped by the landscape we were meant to escape. But if we fix our attention on Jesus and truly abide in Him, His character, His Word, and His presence begin to reshape us until we look more and more like Him.

In Jeremiah 18, God sends Jeremiah to the potter’s house to teach him something about His relationship with His people. The clay became marred in the potter’s hand, but instead of throwing it away and starting over, the potter made it again into another vessel. That picture carries a powerful reminder for anyone who has been disappointed, wounded, hardened, or left feeling unusable by the experiences of life: the power to change is not in the clay, but in the hands of the Potter. Life can dry us out, hurt can make us hard, and cracks can begin to appear in our faith, prayer life, joy, and relationships, but those cracks do not have to be the end of the story. God still knows how to soften, reshape, restore, and renew what belongs to Him. We are His workmanship, and if we remain in His hands, He is still able to make us again.

The Contrast of Two Ways

In this sermon, the message looks at fasting as more than simply going without food—it is an intentional interruption of what we have been running on. Jesus taught that what defiles a person comes from within, and fasting creates space for us to confront what has been filling, distracting, and controlling the inner man. Like a device with too many things open and running, our lives can become overloaded until something begins to crash. Biblical fasting humbles the soul, quiets the appetites of the flesh, and redirects our dependence toward God. Jesus said there would come a time when His disciples would fast, and in Matthew 17 He connected prayer and fasting with spiritual battles that could not be approached casually. Fasting is not about earning God’s power; it is about shutting down competing appetites and distractions so that our hearts can become more sensitive, focused, and dependent upon Him.

Matthew 11

Micah 6:6-8

John 11:32-44

In Mark 5, Jesus crosses to the other side and encounters a man living among the tombs, isolated, tormented, and controlled by a force that called itself Legion—a name associated with the organized military power of Rome. Chains could not hold him and people could not tame him, but everything tormenting this man immediately came under the authority of Jesus. The one who had been crying among the graves was soon sitting, clothed, and in his right mind. When he asked to follow Jesus, however, Jesus gave him a different assignment: “Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee.” He carried his testimony throughout the Decapolis, and later in Mark we find people in that same region bringing another hurting man to Jesus. What society had given up on became a witness of the compassion and power of God. No bondage is too organized, no life is too broken, and no person is too far on the other side for Jesus to reach—and when He sets you free, your testimony can help somebody else find their way to Him.

In Mark 10, blind Bartimaeus heard that Jesus was passing by and cried out for mercy, and when the crowd tried to silence him, he only got louder. He may not have been able to see where Jesus was, but he was close enough to hear His voice—and when Jesus called, Bartimaeus cast aside his garment, came to Him, and immediately received his sight. His story reminds us that one of the greatest things we possess is our testimony. There are moments when we have watched God provide when there seemed to be no way, heal when the situation looked impossible, keep His promises when we thought He was late, and bring light into circumstances filled with darkness. Nobody else gets to silence the praise that was born from what God brought you through. When you know what He has done for you, you can declare from experience: He is still the Way Maker, the Miracle Worker, the Promise Keeper, and the Light in the darkness.

In Luke 16, Jesus paints a striking contrast between a rich man dressed in costly purple, living in continual luxury, and a beggar named Lazarus who had been thrown down at his gate, covered in sores and longing for crumbs from the table. Lazarus was suffering in the shadow of a party that never seemed to end, yet the rich man remained unmoved by the need lying directly in front of him. Eventually both men died, and everything that once seemed important was reversed. The rich man discovered too late that earthly comfort, wealth, and status could not prepare him for eternity. This message challenges us to look beyond what we possess and ask whether our hearts have become so comfortable that we can walk past the people God has placed at our gate.

Look to the Lamb

In Mark 11, Jesus approaches a fig tree covered in leaves but finds no fruit, and shortly afterward enters the temple and confronts a religious system that had plenty of activity but had lost its purpose. The fig tree became a picture of empty religion—an outward appearance of life without the inward fruit God desires. Jesus is not looking for impressive leaves, busy churches, or religious routines; He is looking for lives that actually produce fruit. Sometimes that means allowing Him to overturn the tables, expose the idols, and clear away anything that has taken the place of prayer and genuine faith. The answer Jesus gives His disciples is simple: “Have faith in God.” Real faith is more than appearance—it produces something.