Russell

Gods miracles are real, im holding proof in my arms. My wife and I tried for a second child for 8 years to no avail. A year after surrendering to God I was saying my nightly prayers when I heard a voice that sounded like 3 at once. The voice said "I've sent a champion", a week later my wife was pregnant. I dont claim to understand what it meant but I know a miracle followed. Don't be afraid to turn yourself over fully to Christ, what waits is absolutely beautiful.

I spent this whole week in a fog — heavy, not sure where I needed to be. Tonight at Lakepointe, God cleared my head. Pastor Mike Breaux spoke to my soul about destiny, meaning, and purpose. That one person you bring to Christ can start a chain reaction. And that hit my heart. A chain reaction of love for the Lord. That’s why I wake up each day and pray, “God, send me where I’m needed. Let me be a bright light of Your glory in someone’s life today.” “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11). His plans often begin with one person. Andrew didn’t start with a crowd. He found his own brother and brought him to Jesus (John 1:41–42). One invitation. And the Lord used it. We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works He prepared beforehand (Ephesians 2:10). I don’t need to know where I’m going, as long as I have faith in who is sending me. A small ripple of faith can turn into a tsunami of love for the Lord Jesus Christ. Thank You, God, for Lakepointe and for Your eternal love.

Go outside. The heavens are already talking. The weather is amazing — such a wonderful time of the year to go outside and explore His creation. Marvel at the clouds and the changing colors. At night, look up at the stars He’s arranged just for you and me. None of it is random. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork” (Psalm 19:1). That isn’t decoration. It’s a witness. Job was told to “stop and consider the wondrous works of God” (Job 37:14). We walk under what He painted and treat it like background. Then lift your eyes higher. “Who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name” (Isaiah 40:26). He numbered them. He named them. He hung them where you could see them. All things were made through the Lord Jesus (John 1:3). The same voice that arranged the stars still holds them — and still holds you. Don’t rush past it. Go look. The beauty is speaking, and it is speaking about Him. What’s one thing in His creation that made you stop this week?

You don’t have to hide from the God who already sees you. “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). Walking in that light isn’t pretending you’re fine. It isn’t performing a clean life so He won’t look too close. It’s coming into the open with what’s true. “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:8–9). The blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin (1 John 1:7). Fellowship isn’t built on how well you hide. It’s built on how faithful He is. And you are not waiting to become His. “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). The full picture is still coming. Everyone who hopes in Him purifies himself as He is pure (1 John 3:3). So why do we still stay in the dark? Because we’re afraid of what the light will find — and what God will do when He finds it. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love” (1 John 4:18). His love is not trying to catch you. It is trying to free you. The God who will one day show you His face is the same God who invites you into the light today. Come out of hiding. Confess what you’ve been carrying. You are His child now — and His perfect love is stronger than your fear.

The Lord Jesus Christ has never met a mountain He cannot move. He isn’t asking you for perfect strength. He’s asking you to trust Him, and to love like He loves. “All things are possible for one who believes” (Mark 9:23). And what counts, Paul said, is “faith working through love” (Galatians 5:6). Unwavering faith looks at Jesus and does not look away. Real love looks like His — patient, costly, still reaching. Together they don’t make you unstoppable. They make you surrendered. And that’s when God does what you cannot. “For nothing will be impossible with God” (Luke 1:37). Hold on to Christ. Believe Him. Love through Him. That’s how the impossible starts to bow.

Money tells the truth about what we worship. I’ve been watching the conversation around my church’s Into the Breach sermons on giving. I’m not writing this to win an argument. I love Lakepointe. I show up every weekend. I’m speaking as someone who actually sits there. Money is one of the biggest idols that comes between us and God. When people start talking about giving what we’ve worked for, it can expose things we didn’t see — or didn’t want to admit. “Why should I give? Where is the money going?” “Why should I give to something I’ll never see?” Those can be fair questions. Scripture cares about honorable stewardship. Paul took pains with the church’s collection, “not only in the Lord’s sight but also in the sight of man” (2 Corinthians 8:20–21). But don’t let those questions become a cover for a closed hand. God asks us to give our firstfruits, to help others, and to put Him first over everything — including money. “Honor the LORD with your wealth and with the firstfruits of all your produce” (Proverbs 3:9). Jesus said, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21). You cannot serve God and money (Matthew 6:24). A rich young man once came to Jesus looking for eternal life. He had kept the commandments. But when Jesus asked him to let go of what he trusted most, he walked away sad. Then Jesus said it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. The disciples were stunned. Jesus answered, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:24–26). We aren’t saved by how much we give. We’re saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. But clinging to money can keep a man from following Him. “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36) Don’t let what you can’t keep cost you the King who already gave everything for you.

Unity isn’t agreeing on everything. It’s putting people ahead of our pride. Paul told the church, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3). Same mind. Same love. Not because we’re all the same, but because Christ went lower first. Then he said something we skip because it cuts too close: “Do all things without grumbling or disputing… that you may… shine as lights in the world” (Philippians 2:14–15). John Piper put it plainly: Christians who don’t complain shine as lights in a dark world. The light isn’t just what we do. It’s the spirit we do it with. A complaining heart hides the light. A humble one lets it show. You can be right and still be dim. You can win the argument and lose the witness. The world doesn’t need more noise from us. It needs to see Jesus in how we treat each other when it would be easier to grumble. Count someone else as more significant today. Hold the complaint. Let the light shine. That isn’t weakness. That’s the mind of Christ.

You can spend your whole life taking care of what you own and forget Who it all belongs to. I’ve been digging into John Piper’s sermons because I want to learn how to better serve and love God. Between Encounter at Lakepointe and Rooted this morning, my heart is overflowing with love for Christ. Not because of what He can give me. Because He is enough. Not just learning more. Learning to live differently with what He’s already put in my hands. My family. My children. My time. My possessions. All of it comes with responsibility. The people in my life aren’t possessions, but loving them well is part of my stewardship. Piper keeps bringing it back to treasuring God Himself. Not just what He gives us. Him. Because one day, everything we spent our lives collecting will stay here. “We brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world.” — 1 Timothy 6:7 But how we live matters. How we love matters. What we do with what He entrusts to us matters. Did my family get my attention or just what was left of me? Did my children see me follow Jesus or just hear me talk about Him? Did I use what I had to love people, or spend my life trying to have more? These are questions for me too. And something Piper keeps challenging me toward is this: don’t keep the treasure of Christ to yourself. If He is enough, if His gospel is truly good news, then sharing Him can’t be an afterthought. Jesus told us to go and make disciples, teaching them to obey all He commanded (Matthew 28:19–20). Loving my family and serving the people around me aren’t separate from that calling. They’re places to live it out, in what I do and in telling them who Jesus is. I want my life to glorify God, and I want to help others know and treasure the Savior who gave His life for us. We aren’t saved by how well we manage our blessings. We’re saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, not by works. But His grace should change what we do with the life He’s given us (Ephesians 2:8–10). One day I’ll leave every possession behind. I don’t want the people I loved to wonder what mattered most to me.

God is in control of all things. No matter who holds any office, the only true control you have is in your home. Don’t put your energy into hatred. Put it into your family and the people you love with a more present love for Christ. Everything happens for a reason. God’s plan is perfect, even when it’s beyond our understanding. When David’s child died, he said, “I will go to him, but he will not return to me” (2 Samuel 12:23). He accepted what God had done and kept walking.

John stood in the throne room of heaven and wept. Not because God was absent. Because no one was found worthy to open the scroll. All of history, sealed shut — and not one in heaven or on earth could open it. Then an elder said, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah… has conquered.” John turned for a Lion. What he saw was a Lamb, standing, as though it had been slain. That’s how the story ends. The One who holds the future isn’t a stranger watching from a distance. He’s the One who bled for you. The scars are still on Him, even in glory. Heaven sings why He’s worthy: You were slain, and by Your blood You ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation. The scroll isn’t something to fear. It’s held by hands that were pierced for you. So the question isn’t how all this ends. It’s whether you’ll be singing when it does.

“Come up here, and I will show you what must take place.” John heard that — and at once he was in the Spirit. Not later. Not when life calmed down. At once. And what did he see? One seated on the throne. A rainbow like an emerald. Lightning. Thunder. Living creatures crying out without stopping: Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come. Then the twenty-four elders fell down. Crowns on the floor. “Worthy are you, our Lord and God.” That door isn’t locked to us. The same Spirit who caught John up is the Spirit in you when you worship Jesus. You don’t have to wait for heaven to taste heaven. When you lift His name — in the car, on your knees, with tears or with joy — you’re standing near that throne. Come up here isn’t only for a man on Patmos. It’s an invite every time you turn your heart toward Him. Holy, holy, holy. Worthy are You. Look up. He’s forever on the throne — and the Spirit still makes room for you to see.

This morning we met the firstborn of the dead. Tonight He’s still walking. Not far off. Not done with us. Walking among the lampstands — real churches, real people — hearts that looked okay on the outside and were cooling on the inside. He told Ephesus, “I know your works… but I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.” They were busy. They were standing for truth. And somehow they loved Him less. That’s not just their story. That’s a check for us. If He walked up to your life tonight, would He find the love — or just the routine? Don’t go back to doing more. Go back to Him. The One who holds the seven stars still holds you. Same invite from this morning: check your heart. Hear what the Spirit says to the churches. He’s not done with the lampstands. Don’t be done with Him.

Death thought it had the last word. Then Jesus walked out of the grave — and Revelation calls Him the firstborn of the dead. Not firstborn like He was created. Firstborn like the first of a new kind. The first Man death couldn’t keep. The One who went through the tomb so the rest of us wouldn’t stay there. John saw Him walking among the lampstands — eyes like fire, voice like many waters — holding the keys of Death and Hades. And that same Jesus wrote letters to real churches with real hearts: some burning, some cooling, some almost gone out. This week we’re walking Revelation with Him. Before you chase beasts and bowls, let Him search you the way He searched them. Where has your first love cooled? What compromise have you made peace with? Are you holding fast when it costs? He doesn’t flinch at what’s dying in us. He already beat what kills. Firstborn of the dead means the grave has a birthday it can’t reverse — and everyone who belongs to Him will follow Him out. So examine your heart. Hear what the Spirit says to the churches. This isn’t scare tactics. It’s invitation. Look up. The One who was dead is alive forevermore — and He’s still walking among the lampstands.

People love to argue about the end. Charts. Dates. Who’s the beast. What’s next on the timeline. And Scripture does speak about the end — clearly. Wars and rumors of wars. Deception. A world that grows cold. A King who returns. Jesus said it Himself: “See that you are not alarmed… the one who endures to the end will be saved.” Matthew 24:6, 13 Revelation doesn’t exist to make you a conspiracy expert. It exists to make you a faithful witness. The point of prophecy isn’t panic. It’s preparation of the heart. He is coming. Not maybe. Not metaphor only. Coming. “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. Revelation 22:20 So live ready. Love hard. Stay awake. And don’t let fear preach louder than the Lamb who already won.

In one afternoon most of us will say we love tacos, love this weather, love that song, love our kids, and love God. Same word. Same breath. Same tone. The word we use for a plate of food is the same word we use for the One who climbed onto a cross for us. And we don’t even blink. I’m not the word police. I say it too. But when a word means everything, it slowly stops meaning anything. You can spend a dollar so many times it’s not worth a dime. That’s what we’ve done with love. Most of the time when we say “I love it,” we mean “it makes me feel good.” And the minute it stops making us feel good, the love dries up. That works fine for tacos. It’s a disaster for marriages, for friendships, for the church, and for the stranger standing right in front of you. Scripture won’t let love stay cheap. “God is love.” (1 John 4:8) Not “God likes love.” Not “God feels love sometimes.” He is it. And when John shows us what that looks like, he doesn’t point to a feeling. He points to a cross: “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son…” (1 John 4:10) Love, God’s way, isn’t measured by how good it makes you feel. It’s measured by what it was willing to give up. So before we throw that word around again today — at church, at home, online — maybe give it back to its Owner. Let Him define it. Then live like He meant it.

Tonight a lot of kids will put on a costume and ask the same question all night: Who are you supposed to be? Funny how that question doesn’t stop when Halloween ends. We put things on every day. A tough face. A funny version of ourselves. Success. Anger. The person we think people want. I’ve done it. Put on whatever I thought would keep me safe or make me look like I had it together. But Scripture says something better: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” Romans 13:14 Not a costume. Not a performance. Him. Take off what’s false. Put on what’s true. Walk out the door as a man who’s already been loved, already been bought, already been made new. So tonight when somebody asks a kid who they’re supposed to be — maybe ask yourself the same thing. Who are you wearing? Put on Christ.

Some of us treat knowing Jesus like a checkbox. Saved? Done. Baptized? Done. Serving? Done. But knowing Christ isn’t a finish line. It’s a lifelong pursuit. Paul had seen more of Jesus than most of us ever will — and he still said he hadn’t arrived. He pressed on. He wanted to know Him more. Not facts about Him. Him. I don’t ever want to feel like I know Christ enough. I want to chase His love until my final breath. Never coast. Never get comfortable. Never act like I’ve got Him figured out. If you’ve been walking with Him for years and the fire’s dimmed a bit — hear this: There’s still more of Him to know. And He’s still inviting you closer. Press on. Philippians 3:12–14