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What does it really mean to be on Jesus' team? This week's message from our "Lose Yourself" series takes a hard look at the moment Peter went from being called the rock Jesus would build his church on to being called a stumbling block — all in the same conversation. Jesus told his disciples plainly: he would suffer, be betrayed, and die. Peter rebuked him. And Jesus responded by calling him to something deeper — deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me (Matthew 16:24-25). The truth is, following Jesus does not always look the way we expect. But only in Christ can the meaning of your hardest seasons be transformed. As Paul writes in Colossians 3:3, your life is now hidden with Christ in God. He does not just ask you to lose your life — he offers you his. If you are in a crucible right now, this message is for you. Come find life in him.

What if the key to finding your life is actually losing it? This week's message dove into the story of Gideon in Judges 7, where God deliberately shrunk an army from tens of thousands down to just 300 men — not because of weakness, but to make one thing clear: the victory belongs to God, not to human strength. Pat Riley once called it "the disease of me always results in the defeat of us." That truth applies to teams, families, workplaces — and the church. God is calling us to acknowledge our weakness, fight for what matters, and look up and look out rather than turning inward. This season is an invitation to experience something real together — shared limits, interdependence, and a faith that moves toward others rather than waiting to be served. If you missed it, come join us or catch it online.

What does it look like to truly lose your life for Jesus -- not in some dramatic, distant way, but right here, right now, in this season? This past Sunday, our first gathering in a new space, we heard from our own church family through prophetic words, visions, and testimonies about healing, treasure hidden in unexpected places, and the miraculous that comes when we follow God even into hard in-between seasons. Pastor Jared reminded us of the words of Jesus in Luke 9:23-24 -- that following Christ means denying yourself daily, and that the life you try to hold onto is the very life you will lose. The call to follow Jesus is, in the deepest sense, a call to die to yourself. As a church, we are in a new season. There is something God is preparing in and through us. The question is whether we will dig in and find it.

What if the biggest moments in your life started with a simple "wow" instead of "how"? In our final service at Belford, we reflected on 21 years of trusting God with the impossible -- a church built not on certainty, but on obedience and faith in a God who dreams bigger than we do. From Jeremiah 29:11's promise of hope and a future, to Jesus' words in John 14:12 about doing even greater things, we were reminded that God has always been pulling for River City Church. He sent the right people at the right time, answered prayers that took a decade to unfold, and is now moving us into a new chapter. As the cloud moves to DuPont, we go forward anchored in Romans 15:13 -- overflowing with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. The best is still ahead.

What if your greatest spiritual blind spot is expecting God to work the way He worked before? In Luke 5, Jesus uses three vivid pictures -- a wedding celebration, a patched garment, and new wine in old wineskins -- to reveal a stunning truth: He did not come to improve the old system. He came to make everything new. New righteousness. New life. New covenant. Not earned, but received as a gift through faith. The question is whether we are open to what God is doing right now, or whether we are grumping about change, clinging to the familiar, or quietly going back to the old wine. As Isaiah 43:18-19 reminds us, God says "forget the former things -- see, I am doing a new thing." Do you perceive it? Preach the gospel to yourself today. God loves you, He is for you, and He is always at work doing something new.

Before Abraham was born, I am. Three simple words that shook the religious elite of Jerusalem to their core and changed everything. This week we explored one of the lesser-known but deeply powerful "I Am" statements of Jesus in John 8:48-59, where Jesus claims the very name God gave Moses in Exodus 3 as his own. If Jesus is the great I Am, that changes the question we ask. It is no longer "who does he think he is?" but "who do I think I am?" Pride puts us in the center where only God belongs. Humility, confession, and worship are what bring us back to our source. Join us as we dig into what it means to submit to the one who was, who is, and who always will be. He is not just a teacher or a good man. He is I Am.

What if the most outrageous claim anyone could ever make turned out to be the truest thing in the universe? In John 11:25, Jesus looks a grieving woman in the eye and says, "I am the resurrection and the life." Not I bring resurrection. Not I teach about resurrection. I am it. Through the story of Lazarus, we see a Jesus who weeps with those who weep, who enters into real human grief, and who still has power over death itself. That changes everything about how we face loss, suffering, and uncertainty. If Jesus is resurrection and life, then no sadness, tragedy, or disappointment is final. Every hard thing is on a timer. This story ends with joy, and that hope is unshakable. Come join us and explore what it means to exchange "if only" for "if Jesus."

What kind of shepherd lays down his life for the sheep? Not a hired hand. Not just a good leader. The Good Shepherd. This Sunday we explored John 10:11-18, where Jesus makes one of the most profound claims in all of scripture. He does not merely manage the flock from a safe distance. He walks into danger, absorbs the threat, and lays his life down willingly so that his sheep can live. As he says in verse 18, no one takes it from him. He lays it down on his own authority, and he takes it up again. Psalm 23 is not just a comforting poem. It is a portrait of a shepherd who walks with you through the valley, prepares a table in front of your enemies, and makes you lie down when you are too worn out to stop on your own. Jesus is the fulfillment of every word of it.

Who's guarding your life? In this week's message, we explored Jesus' powerful declaration: "I am the gate" (John 10:7). Just like a shepherd who literally sleeps across the entrance to protect his sheep, Jesus positions Himself as the only way in and the only way out of true life. Here's the beautiful truth: Jesus doesn't just save us and leave us to figure things out. He oversees our "coming in and going out" - every season, every transition, every moment. When threats come against us, they have to go through Him first. That's not just protection; that's personal, sacrificial love. The sheep know their shepherd's voice. Do you hear His? Whether you're making big decisions or navigating daily struggles, Jesus wants to lead when you go and keep you when you stay. He's not a hired hand working hourly - He's the Good Shepherd who has eternally accomplished the work of your salvation. Christ with you. Christ before you. Christ behind you. Christ around you.

We all have things we keep hidden in the dark—struggles, addictions, shame. But here's the truth: Jesus declared "I am the light of the world" not to expose us in judgment, but to heal us in love. The enemy wants you isolated, convinced that bringing your struggles into the light will destroy you. But it's the darkness that's destroying you. When we step into the light, something beautiful happens—we find fellowship with God AND with one another. We discover we're not alone, and the ground is level at the foot of the cross. Jesus came as light into darkness because God loves you. He already knows everything about you, and He's inviting you out of the shadows. The question isn't whether you can be known—it's whether you want to appear holy or actually BE holy. To be fully known and truly loved is what we need more than anything. Stop managing your darkness. Step into His light and find freedom.

What if the person you're holding captive through unforgiveness is actually you? This week we explored a powerful truth: "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and to realize that the prisoner was you." Like Leonardo DiCaprio's character in Inception, we often trap ourselves in the prison of unforgiveness, thinking we're holding others accountable when we're really holding ourselves hostage. The early church in Ephesus struggled with this too. Paul reminded them: "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you" (Ephesians 4:32). Here's the key—we can't offer forgiveness until we truly receive God's forgiveness. At your worst moment, Christ died for you. That's where freedom begins. Forgiveness isn't about feelings—it's about truth. Step into the truth first, and trust the feelings will follow. Otherwise, you'll stay trapped in an anger prison forever. So which do you choose: freedom or vindication? Freedom or being right?