The disciples huddled behind locked doors, jumpy at every sound. Jesus stood among them unannounced, showing scarred hands. “Peace be with you,” He said twice—first for their shock, second for their doubt. He ate broiled fish to prove He wasn’t a ghost. Thomas thrust his hand toward the spear wound before believing. [24:08]
Jesus met fear with physical proof. He didn’t chastise their need for sensory confirmation. His resurrected body carried both divine power and human vulnerability—a bridge between doubt and faith.
You check locks twice, refresh news feeds, demand guarantees. Christ comes through walls anyway. What if His peace arrives not in the absence of danger, but in scars made holy? When did you last let concrete evidence of love disrupt your mental barricades?
“My Lord and my God!”
(John 20:28, ESV)
Prayer: Ask Christ to make Himself undeniably present in one anxiety you’ve been rationalizing.
Challenge: Write down three physical sensations (warmth, breath, heartbeat) when fear arises today.
Peter stood knee-deep in Galilee’s dawn chill, hauling empty nets. A stranger on shore said, “Throw your net on the right side.” The catch nearly sank their boat. John whispered, “It’s the Lord.” Peter plunged into the water. Jesus waited with bread and fish crackling over coals. [25:09]
The resurrected Christ cooked breakfast. He restored rhythms of daily labor and shared meals. Miracles didn’t end at the tomb—they moved into the mundane.
You microwave leftovers, rush through Zoom lunches. Christ resurrects your attention through sizzling pans and familiar tasks. Where have you dismissed holiness because it wore an apron instead of a halo?
“Come and have breakfast.”
(John 21:12, NIV)
Prayer: Thank Jesus for one ordinary moment that nourished you this week.
Challenge: Eat one meal today without screens. Note the flavors aloud.
Thomas missed the first resurrection appearance. He demanded, “Unless I touch His wounds, I won’t believe.” Eight days later, Jesus returned specifically for him. No rebuke. Just offered hands and side. Thomas’ confession—“My Lord and my God!”—became the Gospel’s climax. [26:44]
Jesus honored doubt’s honesty. He transformed Thomas’ empirical demand into worship. Scars became proof of love’s durability, not just evidence of survival.
You qualify your faith with “buts” and “ifs.” Christ leans into your conditions. What wound are you demanding He explain—and what if His answer is His presence?
“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
(John 20:29, ESV)
Prayer: Confess one doubt you’ve been afraid to voice. Sit silently for 90 seconds.
Challenge: Text a friend: “What’s one question about faith you’re sitting with?”
After breakfast, Jesus asked Peter three times, “Do you love me?” Each “Yes” countered a past denial. “Feed my lambs,” Jesus replied—not “Atone” or “Grovel.” The man who once sliced off ears now received sheep to tend. [29:03]
Jesus redeems failure through recommissioning. Peter’s zeal found focus in feeding, not fighting.
Your regrets loop like bad playlists. Christ interrupts with new assignments. What if today’s “Do you love me?” isn’t an interrogation, but an invitation?
“Follow me!”
(John 21:19, ESV)
Prayer: Ask Christ to convert one regret into a specific act of service this week.
Challenge: Donate to or volunteer at a local food pantry within 48 hours.
During supper, Jesus stripped off His outer clothing, wrapped a towel around His waist, and washed crusted dirt from the disciples’ feet. Peter protested. Judas fumed. Jesus said, “Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” [30:28]
Servanthood preceded teaching. Dirty water and calloused soles became the classroom.
You reserve humility for spiritual events. Christ kneels in break rooms and school pick-up lines. Where is your towel—still folded, or worn ready?
“I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”
(John 13:15, NIV)
Prayer: Name one person you’ve avoided serving. Ask for grace to act.
Challenge: Clean something today without being asked (sink, desk, car backseat).
Listening takes center stage as a chosen mission, not a passive habit. The toothbrush telephone bit puts the problem on display: vague cues, stacked directions, and assumptions turn a simple task into confusion, right down to the line, the task isn't done until you clean up from the task. Precision, patience, and follow-through are not side notes; they are love in practice. From there the call widens: listening matters for relationship, holds power to transform selves and the world, and it is hard. That is why it belongs to a church’s core work.
The practice then slows down on purpose. The exercise asks the same person the same question seven times: What do you fear. Then it turns and asks seven times: What do you love. A partner can hold the space, or a person can take the harder road alone. Short answers keep the heart honest. Predictable first replies give way to what surprises and what had been forgotten, even the names of people who should have been named. That is how a practice works. It returns, again and again, until deeper truth shows up.
A simple theory of preaching lands the point: the pulpit is one half of a conversation, and today the room’s life speaks. Then two stories do the heavy lifting. The hearing test shows how long people wait and how isolating that delay is. A quip, just turn the damn thing up, exposes a habit of assuming the problem is always elsewhere. The name story names the stakes: politeness without attention lands like disregard. Real change begins when attention is chosen. Unnaturally good at names turns out to be ordinary hard work, not a gift. Even self-protective forgetting after a goodbye does not protect the heart. That is not how any of this works. Attention follows what matters, and people matter.
Hearing and listening are not the same thing. Listening can happen by text or by eye, and it grows with spiritual practice, but it strengthens fastest with feedback. So an invitation lands: ask the people nearby how they know real listening is happening, then listen to what they say. The sending makes it plain: the community listens not because it is easy or automatic, but because it is hard and because love communicated through attention is transformative. By this, people might be changed. By this, the world might change too.
So listening is a part of our mission because we think it is important for relationship, because we think it has the capacity to transform ourselves and others, to transform the world, and also because we like a challenge, and it is hard. Most of us aren't terribly good at listening, but we get better with practice. And so we're going to practice as a meditation, a prayer, a way of paying attention.
[00:28:55]
(33 seconds)
So there's a theory of preaching where what happens on Sunday morning from the pulpit, what the preacher says is just at most one half of a conversation. It's a response that you've thought a little bit about after hearing from the life of the community, from the congregation. Much of what I preach about is about the spiritual questions and ideas and wrestling of this community. But I think even better today, we got it unadulterated from this community itself, from the people in it, without needing to be filtered through the vessel of me, the preacher.
[01:00:55]
(42 seconds)
Now hearing and listening are different. Right? We can listen well by text message or by email or by simply observing someone's body language. But the point in both of these cases is that, well, we can get to be better listeners all on our own. We can take the hard road that John has taken through meditation, and indeed, I do recommend those spiritual practices.
[01:07:26]
(23 seconds)
I've also found that after letting you all know that I'd be leaving at the end of June, I'm forgetting a lot of your names. Not intentionally and not always, but almost self protectively as if it will protect my heart from breaking. But that's not how any of this works. We pay attention to that which matters, and that's all of you.
[01:06:57]
(25 seconds)
Add this chatbot onto your site with the embed code below
<iframe frameborder="0" src="https://pastors.ai/sermonWidget/sermon/how-to-listen" width="100%" height="100%" style="height:100vh;"></iframe>Copy