North Anderson Baptist Church

In Titus 2, Paul paints a picture of a church whose everyday lives testify to the transforming power of God’s grace. In contrast to the chaos and empty talk of Crete’s false teachers, believers are called to live in a way that “accords with sound doctrine”—not as an exercise in moral self-improvement, but as a grateful response to the grace that has appeared in Jesus Christ. Here, Paul speaks to older men and women, to younger women and young men, and even to workers, showing that the gospel reshapes every corner of ordinary life: our homes, our relationships, and our daily responsibilities. Titus 2 reminds us that the world may debate our beliefs, but it cannot ignore lives that have been genuinely changed by grace—lives that quietly, consistently “adorn the doctrine of God our Savior” in everything.

As Paul continues his letter to Titus, he turns his attention to the kind of leadership that can sustain a faithful church in the middle of a corrupt culture. Crete was a place known for moral confusion and spiritual compromise, and Paul knew the churches there would not survive—much less shine—without godly elders who embody the gospel they preach. He reminds Titus that Christlike character matters more than charisma, and that sound doctrine must be guarded with clarity and courage. Where truth is not taught, error always fills the vacuum. And so Paul urges Titus to raise up leaders who both feed the flock and fend off deception, protecting the church from the subtle and destructive pull of a “Jesus plus” gospel. This passage challenges us to value what God values: leaders shaped by holiness, a church anchored in truth, and a people whose lives adorn the gospel of Christ.

As we open Paul’s letter to Titus, we encounter a man who knows exactly who he is, why he exists, and whom he serves. Paul introduces himself not with titles meant to impress, but with identity that humbles: a slave of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ. He belongs wholly to Christ, and he is sent boldly by Christ. And from the very first sentence, Paul shows us what the church in Crete—and the church today—desperately needs: a faith rooted in God’s eternal truth and a life shaped by that truth. Orthodoxy and orthopraxy—right belief and right living—cannot be separated. In a culture confused about truth and content with appearances, this letter calls us back to a faith that actually forms us, a gospel that produces godliness, and a people who shine with the transforming power of Christ.

The ministry of the deacon is one of humble strength and Christlike service—an office designed not for status, but for sacrifice. In Philippians 1:1, Paul identifies two enduring offices within the New Testament church: pastors and deacons. While pastors lead through preaching and teaching, deacons lead through serving, ensuring that the needs of the body are met so the Word of God can flourish. From the example in Acts 6, we see that deacons were never meant to be a board of directors, but Spirit-filled servants who embody the heart of Jesus—the One who came “not to be served, but to serve.” When pastors lead faithfully, deacons serve joyfully, and the congregation unites under Christ’s mission, the result is a church where the gospel advances, disciples multiply, and God’s glory shines through a people devoted to both truth and service.

Gratitude is easy when life is good—but the real test of faith comes when we’re called to give thanks in everything, not just for everything. In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, Paul reminds us that thankfulness is not a suggestion, but God’s will for His people—a posture of the heart that recognizes His goodness even in life’s hardest moments. Biblical gratitude doesn’t deny pain or pretend everything is perfect; it trusts that God is present and working for our good in every season. When we live this way, our thankfulness becomes more than words—it becomes a powerful testimony to a watching world that our hope and joy are rooted not in our circumstances, but in Christ Himself.

In every battle, a soldier’s helmet protects the head—the place most vital for survival. In the same way, Paul calls believers to “take the helmet of salvation,” because the fiercest spiritual attacks often come against our minds. Satan knows he cannot steal our salvation, so he aims instead to steal our confidence in it. Doubt, fear, guilt, and insecurity are his weapons, but God has given us the truth of salvation as our defense. The helmet reminds us that our salvation rests not on what we’ve done, but on what Christ has already finished. When we fix our minds on that truth—when we believe more in His grace than in our own feelings—we can stand firm, assured that nothing and no one can snatch us out of His hand.

When Paul speaks of having our feet fitted with the readiness of the gospel of peace, he’s painting the picture of a soldier whose shoes give him stability, endurance, and mobility for the battle ahead. In the same way, the gospel—the good news that through Christ’s death and resurrection we have peace with God—becomes the solid ground beneath our feet, the strength that carries us through life’s rough terrain, and the mission that sends us forward into the world. Without the gospel, we stumble on shifting ground; but with it, we stand firm, walk faithfully, and go boldly, carrying the message of peace to a world desperate for it.

In the heat of battle, a soldier’s breastplate protected his most vital organs—without it, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the enemy’s strikes. Paul uses this image in Ephesians 6 to remind us that in the unseen spiritual war, our protection is not our own goodness, morality, or religious effort—because those will always fall short. Instead, our defense is the righteousness of Christ, given to us by grace through faith. This breastplate guards the very core of who we are, securing our identity and confidence before God. When we put it on—both by trusting in what Christ has already done and by walking it out in daily obedience—we are able to stand firm against guilt, lies, and the enemy’s accusations, knowing that God Himself covers us with His perfect righteousness.

When Paul describes the armor of God in Ephesians 6, he begins with the belt of truth—a piece of equipment that might seem small, but was absolutely essential for a soldier. Without it, the rest of the armor could not be held together, and the soldier would be left vulnerable and unprepared. In the same way, truth is the foundation of our spiritual defense. The battlefield of this unseen war is not fought with swords or shields, but in our minds, where lies and deceptions threaten to distort our identity and shake our faith. Satan whispers doubts—about God’s goodness, about our worth, about who we are—but the truth of God’s Word secures us, steadies us, and sets us free. To “gird ourselves with truth” is to be ready for battle, anchored in what God has said, so we can stand firm when the enemy attacks.

As we continue in our Unseen series on spiritual warfare, today we are reminded that the Christian life is not lived on neutral ground—we are in a battle. But it is a battle with an enemy who is real, cunning, and bent on our destruction. Paul tells us in Ephesians 6 that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces of darkness. Yet even as we recognize the reality of our enemy, we do not fight in fear, because the cross has already secured our victory. Christ has triumphed, the devil’s power is limited, and we are called to stand firm in that victory, clothed in the armor of God. The question before us is this: will we fight in our own strength and stumble, or will we stand in Christ’s strength, fully surrendered to Him, and walk in the protection and power He provides?

Today we begin a new series called Unseen: A Series on Spiritual Warfare, and we start with the sobering truth that every one of us is in a battle—whether we realize it or not. The Bible reminds us in Ephesians 6 that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against unseen spiritual forces of darkness. Too often we direct our frustration and anger toward people, when in reality the enemy at work is far greater and far more deceptive. The world seeks to normalize sin, our flesh pulls us toward it, and the devil schemes against us with lies and accusations. But the good news is this: in Christ, we do not fight for victory—we fight from victory. As we open our eyes to the unseen, may we learn to stand strong in the Lord’s strength, equipped with His armor, and ready to face the real battle we are in.

Everyone is searching for happiness, but most people are looking in places that can never truly satisfy. Psalm 1 opens the entire book of Psalms by drawing a sharp contrast between two kinds of lives—the godly and the ungodly—and it shows us that the pathway to real and lasting happiness isn’t found in chasing sin, following the crowd, or depending on circumstances. Instead, true happiness comes from a life rooted in God’s Word, delighting in His truth, and drawing strength from Him like a tree planted by streams of water. This psalm is both a warning and an invitation: a warning that the way of the ungodly leads to emptiness and ruin, but an invitation to pursue the joy, stability, and fruitfulness that only come from walking with God.

Fear has a way of gripping our hearts, clouding our judgment, and making trust feel impossible—but Psalm 56 shows us that faith is not the absence of fear, it’s the choice to trust God in the middle of it. Written by David during one of the most dangerous and uncertain moments of his life, this psalm is raw, honest, and deeply instructive. David doesn’t hide his trembling; instead, he brings his fears straight to God, anchoring himself in God’s presence, God’s promises, and God’s care. Here, we see a roadmap for our own moments of anxiety: be honest before God, stand on the unshakable truth of His Word, and praise Him in advance for victories yet unseen. In this psalm, David invites us to live out the words we so easily say—"In God We Trust"—not just in times of peace, but especially when the battle rages around us.

As we continue our Summer of Psalms series, today we turn to Psalm 32—a heartfelt testimony from David about what it truly means to live the blessed life. But this blessing isn’t about comfort, success, or ease. It’s about forgiveness. David opens with joy-filled words not about what he’s earned, but about what he’s received: mercy, grace, and pardon from a God who covers sin and lifts the weight of guilt. He knows firsthand the misery of hiding sin and the relief that comes through honest confession. Psalm 32 invites us to stop running, stop pretending, and come clean before the Lord—to embrace conviction not as punishment, but as a gift that leads to freedom, restoration, and joy. The blessed life begins not with perfection, but with repentance—and the God who meets us there with songs of deliverance.

As we continue our Summer of Psalms series, we come today to Psalm 145—a vibrant, joy-filled declaration of praise from David, whose heart overflows with worship for a God whose greatness is beyond measure. This psalm reminds us that when we truly see who God is—His majesty, mercy, and might—our faith begins to sing. Singing not only plants truth deep within our minds, but also encourages those around us and engages our hearts in worship. David calls us to lift our voices across generations, to declare God's goodness and faithfulness in every season. Whether you’re in a valley or on a mountaintop, Psalm 145 invites you to taste and see that the Lord is good—and then sing it out for the world to hear.

As we turn our hearts to Psalm 63, we are reminded that whether we find ourselves in a season of abundance or wandering through a dry and weary wilderness, our deepest longing and greatest joy are found in seeking the Lord. David’s words echo across the centuries: “God, you are my God; I eagerly seek you.” In every desert of life, we find that God alone satisfies our thirst, shelters us under His wings, and saves us from every enemy. Today, may we hear this wilderness cry and make it our own, lifting our hands in praise to the One whose faithful love is better than life itself.