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From the Pulpit

Author: Oakridge Bible Chapel

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Weekly sermons from Oakridge Bible Chapel.
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We live in a world that is constantly wearing down—bodies weaken, strength fades, and loss touches every life. The pressure of suffering, the weight of uncertainty, and the quiet anxiety of waiting shape the human experience more than we often admit. Yet Scripture tells a deeper story. Though everything visible is temporary, God is doing an unseen work—renewing his people inwardly, dwelling in them by his Spirit, and preparing a glory that will outlast every sorrow and fear. Second Corinthians lifts our eyes beyond what is breaking down to what God is building up. It calls God’s people to live not in retreat or resignation, but with courage, confidence, and faith—walking by what God has promised, not merely by what the world presents.
Sermon from February 8, 2026 meeting. Godsgrace Agu preaching.
Scripture reminds us again and again of the big difference between how and what we see and how and what God sees. We are quick to draw conclusions based on what is visible—success or failure, strength or weakness, danger or security, prominence or obscurity. God, however, works according to purposes that often lie beyond human judgment, his thoughts being far above human thoughts. His plans unfold across generations and circumstances, his care extends to fragile and fickle servants, and his gaze reaches beneath appearances to the heart.In 1 Samuel 16, at a moment marked by loss and uncertainty for God’s people, the Lord quietly advances his good and glorious purposes—not through what looks impressive or powerful, but through what he knows to be faithful and true.
Warnings are often ignored not because they are unclear, but because they are outmatched. Other voices speak louder—voices of confidence, momentum, pragmatism, and self-assurance. What sounds reasonable in the moment can slowly eclipse what is right, especially when obedience carries cost and delay.Scripture repeatedly exposes the danger of selective listening. God’s word may be acknowledged and affirmed while still being reshaped by competing priorities. Partial obedience begins to masquerade as faithfulness. Adjustments feel small. Justifications feel necessary. Over time, the authority of God’s voice is reduced from final to marginal to optional. Scripture calls God’s people not merely to hear him, but to listen to him—to treat his word as decisive and sufficient. When God speaks, his voice is not one among many, but the voice that must govern every other.
Faith is often tested in quiet, ordinary moments—when the way forward feels uncertain, when waiting stretches patience, and when doing something seems easier than trusting someone. In those moments, it is possible to be sincere, active, and even religious, while slowly drifting from simple dependence on the word of the Lord. Scripture speaks tenderly but clearly to that condition, reminding God’s people that faith is not measured by urgency or output, but by trust and obedience.In 1 Samuel 14, two ways of relating to God are set side by side. One is marked by restlessness, noise, and a desire to secure outcomes; the other by humility, restraint, and confidence in the Lord’s power to act according to his will. The contrast invites careful reflection—not on how much is being done for God, but on whether hearts are quietly resting in him, listening for his voice, and moving forward in trust rather than fear.
Waiting is never easy. We want answers, results, and direction—and we want them now. But the life of faith often asks us to do the opposite: to wait. First Samuel 13 recounts a scene from the life of Saul, Israel’s first king, standing at the edge of a crisis. The enemy is at the gates, his army is small, weak, and afraid, and the moment demands action—or so it seems. Saul faces a choice: trust God’s timing or step ahead in his own. He chooses the latter, and the consequences are devastating. This isn’t just ancient history. Each of us faces moments like Saul’s: when patience feels unbearable, when pressure tempts us to act without God, when fear, uncertainty, or frustration threatens to make us take control. As we explore this chapter, God’s people today are invited to wrestle with the same question Saul faced: Can we trust God’s timing when waiting feels impossible?
In 1 Samuel 12, Israel finally reaches a moment of relief. The threat has passed, the king has been established, and the people gather in celebration. Yet instead of simply affirming the moment, God speaks—because something deeper still needs attention. Through Samuel, the Lord confronts how fear shaped Israel’s choices, reminds them that he alone has always been their true King, and calls them back to a life of obedience grounded in his covenant faithfulness. This scene doesn’t undo what has happened, but it interprets it, helping God’s people understand both their danger and their hope. It exposes how easily fear can take hold, and how patiently God restores the repentant. As Samuel speaks, the people are not driven away but drawn nearer—invited to trust the God who has never left them and to live again under his good and saving rule.
Sermon from December 21, 2025 service. Harold Peasley preaching.
At Christmas, we often talk about what happened: a baby lying in a manger, angels singing in the sky, shepherds watching in the field. But Titus 2 tells us what the birth of Christ did. When the grace of God “appeared,” Paul says, it wasn’t simply the beginning of a beloved story; it was the beginning of a new reality. Zechariah, speaking of the coming birth of Jesus, said that he would “appear … to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:79).Christ appeared “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14), and his appearing did things—things we should be mindful of, grateful for, and purposeful about.
Sermon from December 07, 2025 service. Jim Rennie preaching.
Advent begins with longing—with God’s people sitting in the dark and remembering what it means to wait. And when we look back through the Old Testament, we discover that this longing isn’t new; it’s been woven into the story since Eden. From the garden to the patriarchs, from Moses to David, from the poets to the prophets, Scripture builds a rising expectation: Someone is coming.Today, as we begin the Advent season, we’re going to trace that hope through the pages of the Bible—not just to appreciate the gift we received when Christ came the first time, but to rekindle our anticipation for what his return will bring.
First Samuel 11 drops God’s people into a moment of real vulnerability: a city surrounded, a nation unsure, and a threat far greater than their ability to handle. Yet this chapter showcases a familiar pattern woven throughout Scripture—when human strength runs out, God’s deliverance steps in. The events at Jabesh-gilead remind the church today that overwhelming pressures, persistent fears, and seemingly unwinnable battles do not signal defeat. Instead, they highlight the need for the One who rescues, restores, and leads his people forward. As Israel cried out for help, received the salvation only God could provide, and gathered to celebrate his intervention, their story becomes a lens through which to view every modern struggle. This passage invites God’s people to anticipate his deliverance, recognize his hand when it arrives, and mark his faithfulness with grateful celebration.
There’s a kind of judgment in the Bible that doesn’t come as fire or thunder. It comes when God steps back and lets people have exactly what they keep reaching for. Most have tasted a little of that in their own lives—a job that seemed perfect but slowly hollowed life out, a choice that looked wise until consequences started piling up, a desire that promised joy but delivered something thinner and sharper. It raises an uncomfortable question: what if getting what the heart insists on isn’t always a blessing? In Scripture, God sometimes lets people walk into the future they’re determined to build, not to crush them, but to show how fragile those hopes actually are. These moments reveal whether trust rests on God or on something that can’t hold the weight placed on it. And that tension sits right at the centre of this passage.
We all want clarity in a confusing world—leaders we can trust, plans that make sense, and some sign that God is still in control. But what do we do when everything feels uncertain? When leaders disappoint us, when our own choices go wrong, and when God seems silent? In 1 Samuel 9–10, we meet Saul—an ordinary man from an ordinary family on an ordinary errand—who finds himself caught up in God’s extraordinary plan.Through lost donkeys, chance encounters, and reluctant obedience, we see that God’s purposes are never lost, even when his people are. This passage invites us to trust the quiet, steady hand of God—to rest in his gracious rule when life feels aimless—and to believe that his redemptive work continues through ordinary people and everyday moments.
In 1 Samuel 8, Israel asks for a king “like all the nations,” revealing a temptation that still confronts us today: to trust what we can see rather than the God we cannot. The people were drawn to human leadership—Samuel’s aging authority, the failures of his sons, the stability and power of surrounding nations—because it promised security, predictability, and control. Yet human rulers are fallible: they take, they exploit, and they fail. Even the best leaders eventually show cracks, and every system built on human strength alone will disappoint.This passage challenges us to see the difference between visible, fragile leadership that takes and the invisible, faithful rule of God, who provides, sustains, and defends His people. It calls us to walk by faith, not by sight, and to learn to trust in the unseen King rather than the rulers we can measure and manage.
Sermon from October 26th, 2025 service. Godsgrace Agu preaching.
We live in a world that doesn’t like kings. We prefer freedom, autonomy, and the right to rule ourselves. We want control—over our choices, our image, our future. But deep down, every one of us serves something. It might be ambition, comfort, fear, or the approval of others, but none of us is truly throne-less. Someone—or something—reigns in our hearts. The question is, who?Israel wrestled with that same question long ago. They had all the signs of religion, all the rituals of devotion, yet they lived as if God’s throne were empty. And it cost them dearly. But then, in one remarkable chapter, everything began to change. First Samuel 7 describes a people learning again what it means to live under the rule of the Almighty—and what happens when they finally let God reign.
If the “fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10), then we must admit: sometimes we act like fools. Many believers treat God with frivolity and approach him casually. We prefer a God who feels approachable, familiar, and even manageable. We like his love, his mercy, and his patience. But his holiness? His untameable majesty? His uncompromising purity? That feels too invasive and too judgmental. So, we smooth the edges, softening God and tailoring him to our preferences and sensitivities.The result is a tepid Christianity that speaks easily of grace but trembles not at glory, a Christianity in which reverence is rare, and awe is replaced by ease. But the God of the Bible will not be domesticated, manipulated, or disregarded. He is sovereign. He is holy. And the only right response is to bow before him.
Sermon from October 05, 2025 service. Cliff Donaldson preaching.
Imagine carrying a golden box, believing it alone could guarantee your victory. Silly, right? Yet in 1 Samuel 4, Israel treated the ark of the covenant like a divine good-luck charm, hoping to force God’s hand and wield his power—and the cost was catastrophic. Thousands died, the priesthood collapsed, and the glory of God departed from their midst. This story isn’t just ancient history—it’s a warning to us. We can be quick to use God’s name, pray the right prayers, check the right boxes, or follow the right rituals, assuming his blessing will automatically follow. Today, we’ll see the danger of presumption, the heartbreak of God stepping back, and the hope of his invitation: to pursue him with humility, obedience, and wholehearted trust. The question is urgent: will we seek intimacy with God—or merely use him for utility?
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