Mosaic Church - Winter Garden

Paul’s warning to Timothy continues, emphasizing the presence of individuals within his church who are preying on vulnerable women through false teaching. The church’s call is to protect the vulnerable and strive to avoid becoming vulnerable ourselves. This is achieved by uniting around the words of God, safeguarding those in need, and actively combating the darkness within our midst.

As the people of God who live in hopeful expectation of Jesus’ return, Scripture tells us that we are already living in the last days. In this passage, Paul warns Timothy that as the end draws nearer, the world will be increasingly marked by distorted loves—self-centeredness, pride, and a rejection of God’s authority. Paul’s instruction to “avoid such people” is not a call to withdraw from mission or disengage from those far from God. Rather, Paul understands that formation happens in community. The people we give influence to will either shape us to look more like Jesus or slowly form us in the image of the world. Therefore, while the church remains sent into the world with the gospel, we are also called to carefully guard the community that forms us, ensuring that our deepest loves, practices, and relationships lead us toward Christ and not away from Him.

God is stirring in our world, our city, and among our people. As the wind of the Spirit moves in our midst, we desire to be a people who respond and follow what God is already doing among us. In 2026, we are committing to be a church that intentionally makes room so that one more life may come to know the eternal salvation found in King Jesus—to the glory of God the Father.

Our Triune God is a God who sends and comes. The Father sends the Son to seek the lost and bring them home. The Son sends the Spirit to awaken life in spiritually dead hearts. And now, as recipients of this great rescue, we are sent into the world, sowing seeds as we share Jesus, so that one more life might be found and rescued.

Humanity was made for harmony with God, one another, and creation, but sin entered and brought death, estrangement, and a world riddled with hostility. Through the ages God preserved a people and set in place the sacrificial system to show both the costliness of sin and our need for a deeper rescue. That rescue arrived in Jesus. He did not merely teach; He reconciled. He unlocked access to God that we could not open ourselves, and He moved us toward peace with one another. At the center of the good news: the great exchange. Our sin was imputed to Jesus; He bore the just judgment of God. His righteousness was imputed to us; we are made right, not just better. Because of this, the soul finally feels its worth, hostility loses its grip, and a new creation life begins even now. Looking at Joy to the World, which is surprisingly not about Christmas morning but about Jesus’ return. Rooted in Psalm 98, it celebrates the day when the consequences of His birth, life, death, and resurrection are fully realized—when creation itself sings because sin and death are judged and undone. Scripture tells us the scope of His rescue: Jesus removes the penalty of sin, breaks the power of sin, and will one day remove the very presence of sin. Revelation 21 gives us a foretaste: no more tears, mourning, pain, or death—only life, light, and freedom with God among His people.

In O Holy Night, we see the arrival of Jesus in beauty and clarity, and throughout the Gospels, whenever Jesus arrives, everything changes: worth is restored, the unclean are made clean, and death is turned into life. This is what happens when Jesus comes—a weary world rejoices! At Christmas, we remember His first arrival as we also look forward to His second coming, the ultimate end of all death, darkness, and brutality. This is why we sing at Christmas: His power and glory evermore proclaim!

We turned to Luke 2 and listened with fresh ears to the angelic announcement: “good news of great joy.” A Child is born who is Savior, Christ, and Lord—three titles that reframe everything. Savior because we truly need rescuing; Christ because He’s the promised, long-anticipated King whose kingdom won’t end; Lord because this Savior is God Himself. Veiled in flesh, the Godhead appeared. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Jesus didn’t just dip into humanity; He took on our frame fully—learning to walk, growing tired, grieving, feeling anxiety—yet without sin. Why this way? Because Rome wasn’t our deepest bondage; sin and death were. Only God made like us could die as us and break the power that held us. Hebrews 2 says He shared flesh and blood “that through death He might destroy the one who has the power of death.” He is the true and better Passover Lamb—unblemished, crucified, declaring “It is finished,” buried, and risen—bringing light and life, healing in His wings. That’s why we sing: born that we no more may die. Many of us feel like heaven is a locked vault with a combination we could never learn. But the announcement that night was this: the vault has been opened from the inside. The Treasure Himself has come to us to lavish riches we don’t deserve—grace upon grace.

Christmas matters because it anchors us in the real story of a Savior who actually entered history. As we sing through the season, Come Thou Long Expected Jesus helps us bring our hunger, our hopes, and our honest longings to the One who fulfills them. The human heart understands anticipation—like a child waiting for gifts—and that small ache points to a far greater, older ache: humanity’s long wait for the Messiah. From the earliest pages of Scripture (Genesis 3), God promised that someone born of a virgin woman would crush the serpent, even at great cost. The prophets wrote and wondered what that would look like, and their words narrow the focus until only one person can possibly fit. Jesus is not a vague religious option; He is the precise fulfillment of centuries of promises. Born of a virgin in Bethlehem, from Judah’s tribe and David’s house, entering a specific prophetic window, pursued by a murderous king, called out of Egypt, bringing light to Galilee—His life, death, and resurrection fulfill prophecies that predated crucifixion itself. He healed, taught with Spirit-anointed authority, lived without sin, was betrayed, pierced, mocked, buried in a borrowed tomb, and rose—just as foretold. Our faith is not blind; it rests on a God who told us what He would do and then did it in plain sight. We now live between arrivals. Jesus has come—and He will come again. That means we endure a world where sin’s effects still ache, yet we do not despair; we fix our longing on the One who will finish what He started. The hymn teaches us to pray from both directions: grateful for His first coming and hungry for His return.

Peter blesses God for new birth into a living hope through Jesus’ resurrection, and I celebrate that this isn’t theory—Jesus is alive, present, and calls us to participate with Him. We don’t pursue holiness to earn salvation; salvation is secured. We pursue holiness so His kingdom breaks into this dark world through our lives, so others see Jesus and we taste eternal life now. That’s the backdrop as Paul writes Timothy, a pastor in a corrupt Ephesus where the church is bending to culture and false teaching. The call is timely: embrace your calling and confront corruption—but do it God’s way. Paul starts with me and you. Before correcting others, depart from iniquity, clean the vessel, and then not only flee what corrupts but pursue what fills: righteousness, faith, love, and peace. Flee means run for your life; pursue means chase hard after what looks like Jesus. This pursuit is communal. We do it “with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart,” because oneness isn’t optional—it is God’s cosmic sermon to the powers that His gospel reconciles. Then the surprising turn: the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome. In a world that monetizes outrage, we resist foolish controversies and the inner itch to fight. Yet we do not retreat from truth. We enter the fray with an uncommon posture—kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting opponents with gentleness. This posture is not weakness; it’s alignment with how God changes people. God may perhaps grant repentance, and repentance then opens the door to truth. Kindness tills the soil; truth is the seed; repentance is the miracle God performs. Finally, we remember who the enemy is. People trapped in falsehood are ensnared by the devil, often senseless to their captivity. We don’t fight them; we fight for them, against the powers that hold them. So we flee youthful passions, pursue kingdom character in community, refuse quarrels, and correct with patient gentleness. This is how we confront corruption without becoming corrupt—and how the world begins to wonder who we are and who our King must be.

In this passage, Paul reminds us that in God’s great house, we are called to be vessels set apart for honorable use. By turning from what is unworthy and pursuing a life shaped by holiness, we become instruments God delights to use. Through His grace, and empowered by His Spirit, we are prepared for every good work and equipped to reflect the character and beauty of Jesus.

God gave us His first and best in Jesus Christ. So as those who have experienced the fearless generosity of God, we are now full and freed to give our first and best, knowing that generosity guards our hearts in a world that wars to entangle our hearts in trivial, worldly pursuits.

Jesus reveals the heart of the Father who relentlessly pursues the one who is lost. In His grace, God doesn’t settle for ninety-nine found—He goes after the one more, restoring what was broken and rejoicing over every soul brought home. And now, as His redeemed people, we share His heart and join His mission to seek and save the lost.

Paul’s words to Timothy are a locker room speech for the church: remember the gospel, preach it to yourself, and preach it to one another. The way we handle God’s Word matters deeply. If we drift from the truth, even in small ways—through idle talk, quarrels, or making secondary things central—we risk spreading spiritual “gangrene.” Our words, when not aligned with God’s Word, can bring death instead of life. There is a profound contrast between the life-giving spread of God’s Word and the destructive spread of human words untethered from truth. Truth is not something we create; it is something we discover in God, who is Himself the foundation and embodiment of truth. When we unanchor from this foundation, we not only shipwreck our own faith but can also ruin the faith of others. The call is urgent: rightly handle the Word, stay anchored to God’s unshakable foundation, and do not drift. God’s promises are sealed and guaranteed—He knows those who are His, and nothing can unseal what He has sealed. Living as people of faith means both trusting in the security of our belonging to Jesus and actively departing from iniquity. This is not about earning our place with God, but about living out who we already are in Christ. The way to depart from iniquity is to immerse ourselves in God’s Word, to study it deeply, to see Jesus in every part of it, and to anchor ourselves to what we find there. We do this best in community, reminding and encouraging one another to hold fast, especially when life’s storms come. Just as a seatbelt keeps us safe in a crash, anchoring ourselves to God’s truth keeps us from spiritual ruin. The alternative is drift, death, and destruction. But if we hold fast together, God’s kingdom will spread like life-giving vines, bringing light and freedom to us and those around us.

In this passage, Paul urges us, within the body of Christ, to keep reminding one another of the gospel truth so that we draw near to Jesus and uphold the Word of truth. He warns us not to get caught up in pointless fights over words, as these disagreements are dangerous and even undermine faith. Instead, we are called to study, learn, and rightly handle God’s Word so that we become a people increasingly united in our awe for Jesus!

In this passage, Paul reminds us of a trustworthy saying that reveals the heart of the gospel: the faithfulness of God. As followers of Christ, we are called to die with Him that we might also live with Him, to endure so that we might reign with Him. Yet even when our faith wavers, His grace holds firm. May we then be a people who rest not in our own consistency but in the steadfast love of a God who cannot deny Himself.

In this passage, Paul urges Timothy to remember Jesus Christ and to endure the hardships that come with faithfully proclaiming the gospel. By fixing our minds on Christ—His suffering, resurrection, and faithfulness—we find strength to persevere through every trial. Paul reminds us that our calling is not to achieve results but to remain faithful, trusting that God alone brings the fruit. When we remember Jesus, we are empowered to endure all things and to finish the race set before us.

Following Christ means embracing suffering as part of one’s unique spiritual journey, as we endure challenges with community support. By staying focused on God’s calling, believers can experience a deeper connection with Christ and receive an eternal reward that surpasses temporary trials.

In 2 Timothy 2:1–2, Paul exhorts Timothy to “be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus.” This grace is not merely an idea but the active, sustaining power of Christ that empowers us to live out our faith. Even in our weakness, Christ’s strength is made perfect, enabling us to endure and fulfill our calling.

As followers of Jesus, we are not called to shrink back when others turn away, but to remain steadfast in loyalty to Christ and His people. Paul reminds Timothy of those who deserted him in hardship, yet he lifts up Onesiphorus as an example of faithfulness—one who was not ashamed of Paul’s chains but sought him out with courage and compassion. In the same way, Jesus calls us to stand firm in love and loyalty, even when it is costly, so that we might reflect the steadfast mercy of our God.

As followers of Jesus, we are not simply called to follow words, but to follow a person—Jesus Himself. Paul reminds Timothy that it is possible to mistake a relationship with the Bible for a relationship with Christ. Instead, Jesus calls us to embrace the pattern of His words so that we might truly learn what it means to walk closely with our God.