On the evening of that first Easter Sunday, the disciples were not celebrating. They were hiding — behind locked doors, behind their fear, behind their confusion. Though Mary had told them, “I have seen the Lord,” their hearts and minds were not yet convinced. They were afraid of the religious leaders. Their teacher had been crucified — what might happen to them?

Have you ever been there? Locked in a room of your own fear? Behind doors of grief, doubt, failure, or shame? This passage tells us what happens when the risen Jesus walks through locked doors.

Jesus doesn’t knock. He doesn’t wait for them to fix themselves up. He comes right in and says, “Peace be with you.” Not once. Not twice. But three times in this short passage. This is not just a casual “hello.” Jesus is offering the very thing they needed the most: peace. This is the same peace He promised them before the cross — “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (John 14:27). Jesus brings peace that settles fear, peace that does not depend on circumstances, and peace that remains even when everything else is uncertain.

After bringing peace, Jesus gives purpose. He says, “As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you.” Then He breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” It is a moment of divine empowerment. Jesus breathes the Spirit into the disciples and gives them new life and a new mission. He gives them authority to go into the world and speak words of forgiveness, to heal brokenness, and to share the Gospel.

Now we meet Thomas. He wasn’t in the room when Jesus first appeared. And when the others tell him the good news, he replies: “Unless I see… I will not believe.” Thomas gets labeled as the doubter, but perhaps he was just honest. Jesus doesn’t scold Thomas. Instead, eight days later, He comes back and meets Thomas exactly where he is. He offers His wounds. He invites the touch. And in that moment, Thomas makes one of the strongest confessions of faith in all of Scripture: “My Lord and my God!” Jesus responds with a blessing for us: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

John closes the chapter by telling us why he wrote all these things: “That you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.” This Gospel is not just for information; it is for transformation. Belief is not the end. It is the beginning of life.

Illustration: There’s a story told of a prisoner who spent 30 years behind bars. After being released, someone offered him a new home, a new job, and a new future. But each night, he would sleep with his door locked from the inside, and a chair against the handle. Though he was free, he still lived as if he were in prison. Many of us do the same spiritually. Christ has set us free, but we live behind locked doors. 

Friends, whatever doors we are locked in — because of our pain, our sin, or our trauma — Jesus shows up with peace. As we celebrate the risen Christ, it is significant to understand that resurrection is not just a past event to believe in, but a present mission to participate in. We are the continuation of Christ’s ministry — in our homes, communities, and world. But if you’ve ever doubted, you are not alone. Doubt does not disqualify you. Jesus welcomes the skeptic, the seeker, and the broken-hearted. He still reveals Himself to those who long to see Him.

What door is Jesus knocking on today?

• Are you hiding behind fear?

• Are you struggling with doubt?

• Are you feeling unqualified to be sent?

Peace be with you.
Believe.
Go.

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Christ Is Alive

Mail Address: P.O. Box 118 Lively, VA 22507

Bethel: 142 Old Bethel Road, Lancaster, VA 22503

Office Hours: 10 am to 2 pm (Mon - Thurs)

Emmanuel: 36 Church Lane, Lancaster, VA 22503

(804) 462-5790

beumcva@gmail.com

Join us in Sunday Worship

• 9:30 am at Emmanuel

• 11 am at Bethel*

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EDIT SITE FOOTER

Brothers and sisters, have you ever come across a story so powerful, so life-altering, that it stayed with you for years? For me, one such story came during my high school years in Africa. It was the testimony of Emmanuel Eni, a Nigerian man who wrote Delivered from the Power of Darkness. Emmanuel was once a high-ranking agent of darkness, recruited into the underworld to persecute Christians and wage spiritual war against God’s people.

Tonight, we gather to remember a supper long ago and to relive its meaning and mandate. The word "Maundy" is a Latin word “mandatum”, which means “commandment.” drawn from John 13:34.

“A new commandment I give you: that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” So Maundy is a moment of divine instruction -a command to love, serve, and remember.

Imagine waking up one morning to the sound of jubilant shouts echoing through your neighborhood. You rush to your window and see a crowd gathering, waving palm branches, laying down their coats, and chanting, “Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!” At the center of it all is a humble man riding a donkey.

Your heart is stirred. Something is happening. You feel drawn into the moment. You can’t help it—you join the crowd.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you thought, “If I were in charge, things would be better”?

Perhaps you were watching a game and the players appeared to be making all the wrong decisions; in your head, you were the expert athlete, the ideal coach, the strategist with all the correct solutions... even if you have never set foot on the pitch.

Dear in Christ, we all have items we take custody of—things that are ours, not only because we own them, but also because of the relationship we have developed with them. These could be memories, pets, people, or real items. They are not only "things." They shape our identity. They hold the narrative of our life journey, feelings, and experiences.

Human suffering is varied. Some suffer from sickness, others from natural disasters, and others from economic hardships or social rejection. Suffering is a reality that touches every life in different ways. Some are victims of tragic accidents, like those in Jesus’ example—the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices or those who perished when the tower of Siloam fell. In the face of such suffering, many ask: "Why did this happen? Was it because of sin?"

When I received an invitation to preach at the Lenten Community Service, I asked myself, what message would I convey to these distinguished servants and followers of the Lord? As I sought the Lord in prayer, He led me to Matthew 16:24-26, a passage that speaks of self-denial, sacrifice, and the eternal value of following Christ.

Last Sunday, we reflected on how Jesus was tempted by the devil in the wilderness (Luke 4:1-13). After failing to make Jesus stumble, the scripture tells us that “the devil left him until an opportune time” (Luke 4:13). Today’s passage in Luke 13 presents what appears to be one of those opportune times. The devil, still determined to derail Jesus from His mission, comes again—but this time through the Pharisees.

The Pharisees come to Jesus with what seems like a warning: “Leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you” (Luke 13:31). On the surface, it sounds like they are concerned for His safety. But could this be another form of temptation? Could this be another attempt to make Jesus abandon His mission?

There are seasons in life when we find ourselves in a wilderness—moments of uncertainty, waiting, and intense trials. This is exactly what happened to Jesus in Luke 4:1-13. Right after His baptism, when He was full of the Holy Spirit and ready to begin His ministry, He was led into the wilderness. For forty days, He fasted, prayed, and prepared Himself. But before He could step into the fullness of His calling, Satan came with three temptations—each one designed to make Him doubt God’s provision, power, and promises.

This week, I found myself reflecting on the phrase, “Radiance or Glory of the Lord.” I questioned whether this was a common phenomenon or simply an abstract phrase. I wanted to believe that, even for native English speakers, it might sound vague or mystical. What does it really mean for God's radiance to be upon someone? Is it merely a supernatural glow, or is it something more tangible, something more transformative?

Recently, during my vacation in Africa, I witnessed firsthand the many facets of human suffering. I visited people who were mourning the loss of loved ones, their hearts heavy with grief. I met friends and family members who were in the grip of illnesses like cancer, their bodies failing but their spirits yearning for hope. I saw families torn apart by strife, friendships fractured, and children burdened with depression.

Even in the midst of this suffering, there was light—a spark of hope urging us to trust in a power greater than our pain. This mix of joy and sorrow, celebration and despair, mirrors the intricate design of our lives. It is in our darkest moments that we often become most aware of our need for God’s redeeming love.

Most of us are fairly familiar with the Beatitudes, Matthew’s version of these sayings from Jesus. We aren’t as well versed in the Sermon on the Plain, which is our text from Luke for this week. There is some overlap between the two, of course, but there are also some significant differences. We tend to turn to these sayings for comfort, to find blessings in our everyday life. Certainly, we can still do that. But there is more in these words, and some of it is a little hard to take. “Rejoice in that day,” Jesus says, not about good things that happen, but about suffering, about being hated, about being rejected. This is not something we want to feel joy about. So, what is the invitation that Jesus issues here and how do we practice that as we worship?

Good morning, beloved! Today, we explore the transformative power of God’s touch and calling through Isaiah 6:1-8 and Luke 5:1-11. These scriptures reveal that a single encounter with God can result in repentance, a mission, and an all-round permanent change.

Over the past few Sundays, we’ve talked about the gifts bestowed upon us by the Spirit—gifts given not for personal gain but for the common good. Today, I want to shift our focus from the gifts we’ve received to the call that God places on our lives and how we are to respond to that call, guided by love.

This year marks a significant time in our church. One of the major developments is that we have embarked on a new leadership structure—an exciting shift that holds great promise for how we work together as the body of Christ. Leadership is significant in the life of a congregation. But it’s not just about having leaders; it’s about having spirit-led leaders—those who are guided by God’s wisdom, strength, and vision for His church.

We stand early in the year, like travelers embarking on a long and purposeful journey. Our journey has just begun at a place called January, and our destination is a continent called December. This is no ordinary journey—it’s a spiritual and life journey that unfolds across a timeline we cannot shortcut or bypass. Along the way, there are challenges: detours, tornadoes, wars, technologies, hackers, bad groups, sickness, and disease. Yet, despite these obstacles, we travel with confidence because the Lord has equipped us with everything we need for this journey.

Last Sunday, we reflected on how our past experiences significantly shape our lives and our walk with God. From God’s perspective, these experiences, no matter how tough, are not wasted. They mold us into being vessels of honor, prepared for His purposes. Today, I want to build on this theme in light of Jesus' baptism and the preparation it signifies. Let me share a personal story as an example of how God refines us for His work.

As we embark on this new year, the words of the prophet Isaiah resonate deeply: “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” These words, spoken to a people emerging from exile and darkness, call us to reflect on our own journeys and the divine light that guides us forward.

Today, we shift our focus to the boy Jesus, now 12 years old. In Luke 2:41–52, we find the only glimpse into His childhood, a story filled with lessons for us as we approach the new year. This passage challenges us to think deeply about how we and the younger generations can grow in wisdom, favor, and faith.