Nobody gets through this life unscathed. It does not matter who you are, what you have built, or how carefully you have lived. At some point, suffering finds you. A diagnosis. A phone call. A loss that reshapes everything you thought you knew about the world. And in those moments, one question rises above all others: if God is good and God is powerful, why does He allow this?

It is not a casual question. For many people, it is the question that stands between them and faith altogether. They might be willing to consider the existence of God, willing to entertain the idea of a Creator, but then they run headlong into the reality of a world filled with cancer, grief, natural disasters, and innocent suffering, and they cannot reconcile the two. If God is truly good, He would not want this. If He is truly powerful, He could stop it. And yet here we are.

This tension has a name in philosophy and theology. It is called the problem of evil. And it is not new. King David wrestled with it in Psalm 10, crying out to God and asking why He seems to stand at a distance in times of trouble. Jesus Himself, in His darkest hour on the cross, quoted Psalm 22, asking why God had forsaken Him. The Bible does not shy away from this question. It sits with it. It grieves with it. And slowly, carefully, it begins to offer something that, while not always fully satisfying, is deeply worth holding onto.

The dilemma is straightforward. God is good. God is powerful. Pain and suffering exist. If all three are true simultaneously, something seems to break down in our logic. Some thinkers have responded by surrendering one of the three. Some say God must not be powerful enough to stop suffering. Others suggest God is not as good as we hope. Neither of those conclusions reflects the picture of God we find in Scripture.

A more honest and ultimately more helpful path is to sit with all three statements and ask what the Bible actually says about why suffering exists in a world made by a God who is both good and powerful.

The most biblically grounded answer begins in the earliest pages of Scripture. In Genesis 2, God places humanity in a garden of extraordinary abundance and gives one clear boundary. The consequence of crossing it, God says, is death. Not immediate physical death, but the beginning of an unraveling. A slow, painful unwinding of everything that was meant to be whole.

That unraveling is what we live in now. Pain in relationships. Conflict between people who love each other. Illness. Natural disasters. Death. Romans 8 describes creation itself as groaning, straining under the weight of a world unraveled by sin. Even the suffering that seems random and impossible to explain takes place within a creation that is no longer as it was meant to be.

This is not a comfortable answer, but it is a coherent one. And importantly, it does not place the blame for suffering at God's feet. Scripture points us instead to the reality of a world broken by sin. Human freedom is part of that story. A world where love is possible is a world where rejection is possible. A world where relationship with God is offered is a world where rebellion against God is possible. And the effects of that rebellion ripple through generations, through communities, and through the very fabric of creation.

There is something else worth considering. Romans 5 tells us that suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. This is not a dismissal of pain. It is an acknowledgment that God, in His creativity and grace, can take even the worst of what we go through and use it to shape something in us that could not have been formed any other way.

C.S. Lewis described pain as a chisel that molds us, and elsewhere as God's megaphone to rouse a deaf world. There are things that suffering teaches that nothing else can. Priorities shift. Depth grows. Compassion deepens. None of that makes the pain less real, but it does mean that God is not absent from it. He is working within it.

Here is where the Christian faith stands apart from every other religion and philosophy in the world. Every major tradition offers some response to the question of suffering. Only Christianity offers a God who enters it.

Jesus did not observe human suffering from a safe distance. He walked into it. He wept at the tomb of a friend. He was betrayed, mocked, flogged, and crucified. He cried out in anguish from the cross. And in doing so, He took on the full weight of a world unraveled by rebellion. The cross is not just a theological transaction. It is God's answer, in flesh and blood, to the question of whether He cares about human pain. He cares so deeply that He absorbed it Himself.

And if God could take the suffering of the cross and wrench from it His redemptive work for humanity, is it too much to believe that He can take your suffering and bring something redemptive from it as well?

The why does not always come quickly. Sometimes it does not come at all, at least not in this life. But there is still a how. How do we live in the middle of pain? The answer, drawn from the lives of Job, Paul, and countless others who have walked through darkness, is this: cry out to God honestly, admit you cannot carry it alone, anchor yourself to something true, and keep moving.

Philippians 4:13 offers one such anchor. The promise is not always relief. It is strength. And sometimes strength is exactly what we need to take the next step.

Suffering does not get a tidy conclusion. But it does have a God who is present in it, who has suffered within it, and who promises that what we endure now is not the end of the story.

You may not have an answer to your “why?” right now. Instead of forcing an explanation, bring the question honestly to God. Tell Him where you are hurting, what you do not understand, and what you need from Him today. Then ask Him for the strength to take the next step, even when you cannot see where the road leads.

To explore this question more deeply, watch Pastor Fred’s full message, “Why Does God Allow Pain and Suffering?”

Join us Thursday, October 8, at 2:00pm for an informative afternoon as we learn more about Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. Erica Eikern from the Alzheimer’s Association in Sioux City will join us to provide helpful information and insight for individuals, families, and caregivers.

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There is a question that sits beneath almost every other question we ask about life. It surfaces in the quiet moments, in the middle of the night when sleep will not come, in the aftermath of loss, in the restless searching that no achievement or experience seems to resolve. The question is simple to state and enormous to answer: Is there a God?

It is worth noting, before going further, that most people hope the answer is yes. Even those who struggle to believe tend to hope. And that hope itself is worth examining.

At first glance, a world without God sounds liberating. No one to answer to. No standard to meet. Absolute freedom to define your own morality, your own meaning, your own direction. You are in charge.

But look a little closer, and the good news does not stay good for long. If there is no God, we are left to construct morality on our own, and your morality and mine may have very little in common. If there is no God, the question of life's meaning becomes the heaviest burden imaginable. What is the point of a life that simply ends? The Russian philosopher Fyodor Dostoevsky put it plainly: if God does not exist, everything is permitted. And a world where everything is permitted is not a world that flourishes. It is a world that unravels.

Freedom without God gives us options. What it cannot give us is hope.

Scientists who study the deepest structures of the physical universe have discovered what they call cosmological constants, a set of values that have to be calibrated with extraordinary precision for life to exist at all. The gravitational constant, for example, has to be set within an almost impossibly narrow range. Too strong and the universe collapses in on itself. Too weak and matter never coalesces into stars, planets, or anything at all. There are at least a dozen such constants, and scientists openly acknowledge they have no explanation for why they are set the way they are.

The universe did not have to be this way. It just is. And that raises an unavoidable question: what if it is this way because someone chose it to be?

The ancient poetry of Psalm 19 captures this intuition beautifully. The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of His hands, and yet they use no words. The creation itself speaks. Romans 1:20 makes the point even more directly, suggesting that God's invisible qualities have been clearly seen through what has been made, leaving humanity without excuse.

Across cultures and throughout human history, people have recognized that some things are right and some things are wrong. Human life should be protected. Theft is wrong. The vulnerable deserve care. No one had to teach a civilization to arrive at these instincts from scratch. They seem to be written into us.

Where does that come from, if not from somewhere beyond us?

The apostle Paul wrestled with this in his letter to the Romans. Writing about people who had never received the Jewish law, he observed that they nonetheless did by nature what the law required, demonstrating that its requirements were written on their hearts, their consciences bearing witness (Romans 2:14-15). There is something inscribed in human nature that points upward toward a moral lawgiver.

King Solomon was perhaps the most ambitious experimenter in the history of human longing. He had wealth, power, pleasure, projects, and achievement beyond anything most people can imagine. In the book of Ecclesiastes, he documents the results of giving himself everything his eyes desired and refusing his heart no pleasure. His conclusion was devastating: everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

There is a desire in us that the world cannot satisfy. No amount of success, experience, or pleasure fills it. C.S. Lewis, who spent years as an angry atheist before coming to faith, articulated this with characteristic precision. "Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water... If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

That restless longing is not a malfunction. It may be the most important clue we have.

The Bible does not argue for God's existence the way a lawyer argues a case. It begins with God as its foundational assumption. In the beginning, God. From the opening line of Genesis to the poetry of Psalm 139, which describes God knitting each person together in their mother's womb, the biblical witness is consistent: there is a God, He is personal, and He is not indifferent to human life.

Psalm 14 offers a striking observation: it is the fool, not in a mocking sense but in the sense of someone who has missed something essential, who says in his heart that there is no God. The Lord looks down to see if any understand, if any seek Him.

The pointers are real. The cosmological constants, the universal moral instinct, the insatiable longing, and the biblical witness all gesture in the same direction. But ultimately, belief in God is a matter of faith. It always has been. Hebrews 11:6 is clear that without faith it is impossible to please God, and that anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists.

The invitation is not to stop thinking but to add something to the thinking: openness. Surrender. A willingness to be quiet and listen.

If God exists, He is more than capable of making Himself known. The question is whether we are willing to receive what He offers.

The question “Is there a God?” is too important to dismiss quickly. Take time this week to consider the pointers around you. Pay attention to creation, to the moral instincts written into us, to the longings nothing in this world seems able to satisfy, and to what Scripture reveals about God.

If you are wrestling with this question, consider beginning with a simple, honest prayer: “God, if You are there, help me to know You.”

Watch Pastor Fred’s full message, “Is There a God?”, from the Important Questions of Faith series to explore these questions more deeply.

Join other young adults for a morning of serving together! We’ll head to Kids Against Hunger in Sioux Falls on Saturday, October 17, from 10:00–11:30 AM to pack meals for people in need. Space is limited.

Parenting is one of the most humbling callings a person can take on. The moment you bring a child home for the first time and set them down in the middle of your living room, the weight of the responsibility settles in. There is no owner's manual. There is no formula that guarantees a specific outcome.

Children are not plants that will produce predictable results if we follow the right formula. They are infinitely complex, ever-changing human beings made in the image of God, and raising them well requires something far greater than any parenting strategy the world can offer. It requires grace.

Not the vague, sentimental kind of grace that simply looks the other way. The kind of grace that is costly, transforming, and daily. The kind that flows from a God who is both a loving Father and a just King, and who calls parents to reflect that same character to the children in their care.

Before any practical conversation about parenting can be useful, it is worth asking a foundational question: what is the actual goal?

The culture around us tends to answer that question in one of two ways. Either the goal is the happiness of the child, or the goal is the success of the parent. Both of those answers, while understandable, fall short of what Scripture points us toward.

In Ephesians 6:4, the apostle Paul gives a compact but profound charge to parents. He instructs them not to provoke their children to anger, but instead to raise them in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. The chief aim embedded in that verse is not parental success or childhood happiness. It is raising children who glorify God and enjoy Him. That reorientation changes everything about how we approach the daily work of raising children.

Paul opens that verse with a warning, and it deserves serious attention. He tells parents not to provoke their children to anger. The word he uses does not refer to the ordinary frustrations that flare up in any household. It describes a settled, simmering resentment, the kind that produces emotional and relational breakdown over time.

There are three common ways parents provoke this kind of anger in their children.

The first is harshness. When parents react to their children without listening, jump to conclusions, and respond with frustration rather than fairness, they create distance. There is a place for a firm and even loud response when the moment calls for it. Love sometimes sounds urgent. But harshness as a pattern wounds children in ways that linger long beneath the surface.

The second is relational indifference. When work, hobbies, screens, and personal ambitions consistently crowd out genuine connection with our children, they notice. They are not fooled by physical presence without emotional engagement. The primary work God calls parents to is not the work they do outside the home. It is the work of raising a household that reflects His glory.

The third, and perhaps the deepest source of provocation, is spiritual inconsistency.

Children are perceptive. When a parent presents one version of themselves at church and another at home, when they require obedience from their children while refusing to submit to any authority themselves, when their stated beliefs and actual behaviors are constantly at odds, the result can be a deep and understandable resentment in their children. The gap between what we profess and how we live is one of the most damaging things a parent can model.

The second half of Paul's instruction is not a warning but an encouragement. He calls parents to bring their children up in discipline and instruction. Both words matter.

Discipline is corrective. It involves drawing clear lines and holding them, not out of control or anger, but out of love. A child who grows up without correction has no reference point for understanding what is right. They are left to navigate a world filled with crooked paths without a clear understanding of what is straight and true.

Instruction is preparatory. It means speaking into your children's lives before the hard moments arrive. It means telling them your story, sharing where God has been faithful, and equipping them for what they will face before they have to face it alone.

Together, these two things require what might be called rigid flexibility. The Brooklyn Bridge has stood for well over a century because its designer understood that a structure must be both firm and adaptable. Too rigid and it will snap under pressure. Too loose and it will be destroyed by the forces around it. The same is true in parenting.

Parents who are excessively rigid may protect their children from the world but fail to prepare them for it. Parents who are excessively flexible may keep the peace at home but leave their children without any foundation for understanding what is true and good.

None of this is possible in our own strength. The oxygen mask analogy is apt here. You cannot help your children breathe if you have no oxygen yourself. Parents who are not being discipled cannot effectively disciple their children.

This is why parents who want to lead their families well need a community of faith and honest relationships with people who will speak truth into their lives.

Beyond community, there are practical anchors worth naming. Seek out mentors, both those in the same season of parenting and those who have already walked the road ahead. Show up for your children in the moments that will matter to them for decades. Cultivate trust early and tend to it carefully, because it takes a long time to build and very little time to lose.

And when you have failed, as every parent will, remember the difference between conviction and condemnation. The Holy Spirit moves us toward reconciliation. The enemy moves us toward despair. If there is a specific wrong to make right, make it right. It is never too late to build a bridge.

Frederick Buechner captured the foundation beneath all of this when he wrote that the grace of God means something like this: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. But do not be afraid. I am with you.”

That is the message parents most need to carry into the daily, exhausting, beautiful work of raising children. Not a formula. Not a guarantee. A promise. God is with us, and His grace is sufficient for every season.

Consider the relationship you are building with your children. Is there a place where harshness, distance, or inconsistency has weakened trust? Ask God to show you one step you can take toward greater connection, whether that means listening without reacting, making time to be fully present, sharing how God has been faithful, or apologizing for a specific wrong.

Parenting does not require perfection. It requires dependence on God, a willingness to grow, and the humility to repair what has been broken. His grace is sufficient for you and for your family.

Watch guest speaker Sam Luce’s full message, How to Build a Relationship with Your Children, for more encouragement and practical wisdom about discipling your children with truth, consistency, and grace.

Serve our community on Wednesday, October 7, from 5:30–7:30 PM! Volunteers will work in teams to help local homeowners with yard work and outdoor cleanup and share a picnic-style supper together. Sign up at frcoc.org/fallcleanup. Know someone who could use an extra hand? Contact Sara Van Zee or the church office.

There is an ancient declaration that has echoed through thousands of years of faith. It begins with a single, commanding word: hear. It does not mean listening in a passive, half-attentive way, but truly hearing with the kind of attention that moves from the ears down into the bones and out through the hands and feet. This declaration is the Shema, drawn from Deuteronomy 6:4-9, and it remains one of the most profound and searching calls in all of Scripture.

It starts simply: “The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” And then it asks everything of us.

The Hebrew word "shema" carries more freight than its English translation suggests. It means to hear, yes, but in the ancient Hebrew understanding, true hearing always produces a response. There is no gap between hearing a command and obeying it. The two are the same act. To hear is to do.

That is a far cry from how most of us operate. We hear things all day long. Instructions, advice, warnings, encouragements. And we nod along and file them away and return to what we were doing before. The Shema refuses that kind of hearing. It demands the kind that changes you.

Moses wrote these words to a generation of Israelites standing at the edge of the Promised Land. They had come out of Egypt, where they had watched God dismantle the entire Egyptian pantheon plague by plague. They were about to walk into Canaan, where a whole new set of false gods was waiting for them. These included Baal, the weather god to whom people offered sacrifices hoping to control the skies, and Asherah, the fertility god around whom shrines were built and moral boundaries were dissolved. Moses knew what they were walking into. And so before they took a single step, he said: Hear this. God is one. You do not need anything else.

The Shema calls us to love God with all our heart, all our soul, and all our strength. That word "all" is doing serious work. It is not asking for a portion. It is not satisfied with the hours we set aside for religious activity while the rest of our lives is shaped by different priorities. It asks for everything.

But here is what makes that call possible rather than crushing: we love because He first loved us. The apostle John makes this plain in 1 John 4, where he declares that God is love and that our capacity to love flows from Him. And in Deuteronomy 7:7-9, Moses reminds the people that God did not choose them because they were impressive or numerous or particularly deserving. He chose them because He loved them. He kept His covenant even when they gave Him every reason not to.

That is the foundation of the whole thing. We are not striving to earn the love of a distant God. We are responding to the love of a God who came after us when we had nothing to offer.

Moses goes on to say that these commands are to be on our hearts. Not written in a notebook that gets shelved. Not recited mechanically on a schedule. These commands are to be written on our hearts, at the center of who we are and the place from which everything else flows.

There is a phrase that surfaces in everyday life that captures what this means: "my heart's not really in it." Everyone knows what that means. It means you are going through the motions. You are present in body but absent in everything that matters. The danger Moses is naming is that faith can become exactly that: a series of boxes checked, a routine maintained, and a Sunday obligation fulfilled while the heart is somewhere else entirely.

What actually has your heart? When you look honestly at your life, what does it reveal matters most to you? Achievement, comfort, approval, and security are not wrong in themselves. But when any of them quietly moves into the center of a life that was meant to be oriented around God, something has gone off-level. The whole structure tilts, even if it is hard to see without a careful look.

The Shema does not stop with the individual. Moses turns immediately to the next generation. Impress these things on your children, he says. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road. When you lie down and when you get up. Write them on your door frames and your gates.

This is not a curriculum. It is a way of life. It is faith woven into the texture of ordinary days: car rides, dinner tables, bedtime conversations, and early mornings. It is the understanding that spiritual formation does not happen primarily in formal settings. It happens through the accumulated weight of everyday moments as someone who loves God lives out that faith in front of someone who is still learning who God is.

No family heritage is required to start this. Some people carry generations of faithful witness behind them. Others are the first. God wastes nothing. He meets people wherever the chain begins and says, I will start here. I will start with you.

The Shema was not designed to be recited once and forgotten. In ancient Jewish practice, it was spoken morning and evening. It was tied to the rhythms of waking and sleeping, of going out and coming home. It was meant to be the first thing and the last thing, the thread running through the whole day.

That rhythm holds a challenge for anyone who takes faith seriously. In a world where every platform, every ideology, and every appetite is competing for allegiance, the voice of God can easily get crowded out. But it does not have to. We can choose to make that voice a familiar part of every day through Scripture, prayer, and the kind of honest community that keeps us accountable to what we say we believe.

The Lord is one. He is complete. He is enough.
Hear that. And let it change everything.

As you move through this week, pay attention to what receives your first thoughts, your greatest energy, and your deepest affection. What would it look like to love God with all of those parts of your life?

What has your heart, and how is that love shaping the ordinary moments of your life? Take time this week to read Deuteronomy 6:4-9 slowly and consider one daily rhythm in which you can listen more closely to God and respond in obedience.

Watch Pastor Mark’s full message to explore the Shema and what it means to love God with your heart, soul, and strength.

Explore God: Have questions about God, faith, or the meaning of life? This seven-week conversation is for adults who are new to Christianity, curious about faith, or looking for a safe place to ask honest questions. Led by Pastor Fred & Ingrid, Reed & Andrea the study meets Sundays beginning September 20 at 4:00 PM at Pastor Fred’s home. There is no cost. Register at frcoc.org/adultministries.

Come hungry and bring the whole family to the second annual Orange City Beast Feast! Enjoy a sportsman-themed Wednesday evening meal, sample a variety of wild game, and take part in a silent auction. Kids can enter to win door prizes, and everyone can explore a featured taxidermy display and a slideshow of hunting and fishing photos from people in our community. 

The meal is served for a freewill offering, with proceeds supporting the Aden De Jong Scholarship Fund for Northwestern College students and Special Youth Challenge Ministries, which provides outdoor experiences for youth with special needs. 

Wednesday, September 30 | 5:15–6:30 p.m.
First Reformed Church | 420 Central Ave. NW, Orange City

Take a night off from cooking and enjoy a fresh meal and time together! Meals are served Wednesdays from 5:15–6:15 p.m. in the Fellowship Hall, beginning September 9. A free-will offering is received ($5 per person suggested), and gluten-free options are available.

Are you tired of what leaves you spiritually depleted? Join Niccie Kliegl as we let go of what leaves us spiritually depleted and discover the deeply nourishing truths and rhythms found in Jesus. Meets the first and third Wednesdays of each month beginning October 7, from noon–1:00 p.m. in the FRC Library. A light lunch will be provided.

Men of all ages are invited to grow in their understanding of God’s Word through an expository study of 1 and 2 Thessalonians. Led by Pastor Mark, the group will explore one chapter each week, looking closely at what the passage says and how its truth applies to our lives today. 

Whether you attend every week or simply come when your schedule allows, you are welcome to join the conversation and connect with other men who want to grow in their faith. 

Wednesdays beginning September 9 
6:30–7:30 PM 
FRC Library 

No registration is needed. Come when you can!

Want to go deeper with God and grow in your everyday walk with Jesus? Join Mary Tracy weekly on Thursday mornings for the 'Bible Studies for Life', a practical, Scripture-centered study designed to help you know God more deeply and live out your faith. This study includes an optional guide for those who want to dig down deeper. Grow in faith, community, and your everyday walk with the Lord this fall with a great group of women.

Beginning October 1 | 7:00–8:00 a.m. | FRC

Gather & Go — Ladies Night Done Right

Gather & Go is a fun way for women to get out, connect, and enjoy life alongside other Christian women. Offered several times throughout the year, these outings might include a show at the Orpheum, a pottery or cooking class, an escape room, dinner out, and other fun experiences—each with a little faith, fellowship, and fun mixed in. Come when you can, meet some new friends, and enjoy a ladies’ night done right! Contact Niccie to sign up and be included in upcoming Gather & Go events.

Gather & Grow offers women a simple, welcoming way to connect throughout the year—come when you can and bring a friend! Each gathering includes a short devotional, a hands-on opportunity to learn something new and share gifts and talents, and time to build friendships and encourage one another in faith. From woodworking and bread making to crocheting, tablescaping, candle making, and more, each event brings something different while creating space for women to gather, grow, and belong. Contact Niccie to sign up.

For many years, First Reformed Church has partnered with Corn Creek, a Native American reservation near Parmelee, South Dakota.
Each year, we have the opportunity to help provide firewood for families preparing for the winter. A few hours of splitting and stacking can provide warmth for days.
This is a simple, tangible way to live out agape love—love that serves, gives, and meets real needs.
All willing hands are welcome! Whether you can split, run wood, stack, or simply come serve alongside others, there is a place for you.

Join us at Ron De Jong’s Farm
3536 450th Street • Orange City
September 12 & 19
9:00 AM–12:00 PM

Come lend a hand and help bring warmth to Corn Creek.

Join us as we kick off the Young Adult Ministry Year! We will gather in the Northeast Lawn of FRC for a night of good food, games, and fellowship. Please bring a lawn chair, a side to share, and your own meat to grill. A grill + grill masters will be provided! Bring your friends!

If you have questions, please contact Allie Eckmann.

There is a lot happening at First Reformed Church! Watch our latest Status Update to hear more about our mission, values, and ministry priorities, along with the initiatives and opportunities taking shape this fall. We also share updates on a significant estate gift, plans for our budget surplus, and needed repairs to our organ. Take a few minutes to stay informed about where we are as a church and where we’re headed together.

From the moment we enter the world, we are wired to imitate. Watch any toddler for long enough and you will see it happen without any coaching or instruction. In their gestures, sounds, and expressions, children mirror the people around them with an instinct that seems almost hardwired into their nature. And in a very real sense, it is. Scripture tells us that human beings are made in the image of God, created from the very beginning to follow a pattern, to reflect a likeness, to imitate and emulate the One who made us. That impulse does not disappear as we grow older. It simply finds new objects to follow.

Which raises a question worth sitting with: Who, or what, are you actually following?

The word disciple appears in the New Testament Gospels 230 times. That kind of repetition is not accidental. It signals something the writers understood to be absolutely central to the life Jesus was calling people into. A disciple, at its core, is someone who patterns their life after another by learning their ways, absorbing their values, and gradually becoming more and more like them in thought, word, and action.

Discipleship is not optional. Every single person on earth is a disciple of something. The only question is who or what holds that role in your life.

For the Jewish people of Jesus’ day, the dominant shaping force was piety, including the detailed regulations and rules of the law that governed how a person was perceived before God. Adherence to those regulations defined a life well lived. Today, in a Western consumer culture, the shaping force for most people is something different. It is the products we consume, the content we absorb, the platforms that track our attention and feed us more of what keeps us scrolling. Recent studies suggest that young adults spend an average of 47 hours per week on their phones. That is a full work week, with overtime. The algorithms are not neutral. They are designed to form habits, shape preferences, and hold attention. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we are being discipled by what we consume.

Jesus steps into this reality and makes a claim that cuts through all of it. He does not offer Himself as one option among many. He calls for something far more demanding and far more rewarding.

In Luke 9:23-25, Jesus lays out what it means to follow Him with striking directness. He describes three movements that define a disciple's life: deny yourself, take up your cross daily, and follow Him.

To deny yourself is to place your own impulses, desires, and preferences in a secondary position to what God is calling you toward. It is not self-hatred or self-erasure. It is a deliberate reordering of priorities that says God's will comes first.

To take up your cross is to accept the cost of alignment with Jesus. In the first century, a person carrying a cross was not carrying a symbol. They were carrying the instrument of their own execution. The image is sobering and intentional. Following Jesus is not a transaction where you receive benefits in exchange for minimal commitment. It is a full surrender to wherever He leads, including the places that are uncomfortable, costly, or inconvenient.

And then the third command: follow Me. Luke is the only Gospel writer who includes the word “daily” in this call to discipleship: “take up their cross daily and follow Me.” Not once, not only in a moment of emotional decision, and not merely during a season of spiritual enthusiasm. Daily. The call to follow Jesus is not a one-time event. It is an ongoing, present-tense commitment that renews itself every single morning.

The stakes Jesus attaches to this are not small. He asks what it profits a person to gain the entire world while losing their own soul (Luke 9:25). That is not casual language. It directly confronts the way most people quietly organize their lives around accumulating comfort, security, and recognition while leaving the deeper question of what they are actually living for unexamined.

A disciple of Jesus is someone who patterns their life after Him, learning and living as His apprentice, being formed by His example and His instruction. Think of the relationship between a skilled tradesperson and an apprentice. The apprentice does not simply read about the work. They show up, observe, practice, make mistakes, and gradually become capable of doing what the master does. That is the texture of discipleship.

Paul captures this in Galatians 2:20, where he describes a life so thoroughly surrendered to Christ that his own self has been displaced and Christ now lives within him. That is not the language of casual religious participation. It is the language of someone who has been completely reoriented around a new center.

A life shaped by discipleship is not a grim or joyless one. It is satisfying, because it provides a singular focus that cuts through the noise of competing demands. It is transforming, because there is no point at which growth stops being possible. It produces a deep contentment, not through the absence of difficulty, but through a peace that holds steady in the midst of it. And it is purposeful, because a disciple is always being led somewhere by the Spirit of God.

Here is what is worth considering honestly. If someone were to look at where your time goes, what your attention gravitates toward, and what shapes your decisions, attitudes, and responses to the people around you, what would they conclude you are a disciple of?

Discipleship happens either by decision or by default. If there is no intentionality, something else will fill the space. The phone, the algorithm, the cultural current, and the approval of others are all more than willing to step in and do the forming.

The invitation of Jesus is not to a program or a set of rules. It is to a person. And it is extended every single day.

Take an honest look at what has been shaping you lately. Consider where your time goes, what receives most of your attention, and what influences your decisions and responses. Then identify one intentional step you can take this week to pattern your life more closely after Jesus.

To explore more about what it means to become a disciple of Jesus by decision rather than by default, watch Pastor Fred’s full message.

Law and grace are often viewed as opposing ideas—one concerned with justice and accountability, the other with mercy and forgiveness. Yet both have an important place in a life shaped by faith.

Join us for a special presentation with Loren Velhuizen, former Orange City city attorney, exploring the relationship between law and grace. Drawing from personal experience in the legal field and a Christian perspective, Loren will consider how justice, responsibility, mercy, and grace work together in our relationships, communities, and daily lives.
This will be an opportunity to reflect on the importance of upholding what is right while also extending the grace we have received.

Thursday, September 10 | 2:00 PM | FRC Chapel

Everyone is welcome to join us for this thoughtful and engaging presentation.

Love to sing? There are two great ways to use your musical gifts in worship this fall! Praise Choir sings alongside the worship team and rehearses Wednesdays from 6:30–7:30 PM. Sanctuary Choir prepares special music for worship and rehearses Wednesdays from 7:30–8:30 PM. Both begin September 9 in the Chapel and will participate in worship several times throughout the fall. Come be part of making music and enhancing our worship together!

There is a simple household maintenance task that most of us neglect far longer than we should: checking the furnace filter. When that filter gets clogged with dust and debris, the system that is supposed to warm the entire home cannot do its job. The air cannot flow. The warmth cannot reach the rooms that need it most. And the troubling part is that the furnace itself is not broken. It is still running. The problem is entirely on the receiving end.

This is a surprisingly accurate picture of what happens in the human heart when it comes to the grace of God. God's grace is not intermittent. It does not sputter or fail. It flows with relentless, inexhaustible force. The question is whether our hearts are open enough to receive it. Too often, they are not. Past wounds, distorted images of God, religious performance, entitlement, and disappointment can quietly accumulate until the flow of grace is reduced to almost nothing. The furnace runs. We just never feel the warmth.

So what does it look like to unclog the filter and stand fully in the grace of God?

Before going further, it helps to get the terminology straight, because these words are often used interchangeably when they mean very different things.

Justice is getting what we deserve. Mercy is not getting what we deserve. Grace is getting what we do not deserve.

That distinction matters enormously. Grace is not simply God holding back punishment. It is God actively, lavishly pouring out kindness and favor on people who have done nothing to earn it. Romans 5:1-2 describes believers as people who have gained access into a standing of grace: not crawling, crouching, or kneeling in penance, but standing upright and secure. Upright. Secure.

Ephesians 1:4-8 piles the language even higher. Before the creation of the world, God chose His people. He predestined them for adoption. He redeemed them through the blood of Christ. And then comes this phrase that is almost too generous to absorb: He lavished His grace on us. Not rationed it. Not distributed it carefully. Lavished it.

This is the foundation. Everything else rests here.

Ephesians 2 makes clear that the starting point for understanding grace is understanding what we are without it. The text describes human beings as dead in their transgressions, not sick, struggling, or merely in need of a little encouragement, but dead. A heart that is spiritually dead cannot generate its own life any more than a broken furnace can warm a house.

This is why the grace of God is not a supplement to human effort. It is a resurrection. God, who is rich in mercy, makes dead hearts alive. He gives new hearts to people who could never manufacture one on their own. And He does it not because we earned it or deserved it, but because of His great love.

This is where grace for the journey begins. It does not begin with a resolution, a fresh start, or a new set of habits, but with a new heart that only God can give. If that work has not happened yet, everything else is just rearranging furniture in a cold house.

Once that foundation is in place, grace becomes the constant provision for daily life. Hebrews 4:16 extends an extraordinary invitation: approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in our time of need. Not timidly. Not apologetically. With confidence.

This does not mean that every prayer produces the outcome we hoped for. Grace is not a divine vending machine. But it does mean that God’s strength, provision, forgiveness, and help are available for every moment of the journey: the exam, the diagnosis, the defeat, the grief, and the long, grinding ordinary days in between.

James 4:6 adds an important condition. God gives more grace to the humble. The heart that says, "I trust You to provide what I need in the way You choose to give it" is the heart that stays open to receive. Pride clogs the filter. Humility keeps it clear.

Titus 2:11-14 offers one more dimension that is easy to miss: grace is not only a gift, it is a teacher. The grace of God instructs us how to live: how to say no to what would derail us and how to pursue what is good and right and true. The best teacher is not fear or guilt. It is the overwhelming kindness of God that produces a response of genuine transformation.

Every life contains people who are genuinely hard to love. The grace extended to us is also the grace we are called to extend outward. Ephesians 4 calls believers to be humble, gentle, and patient with one another, not because the other person has earned it, but because that is exactly what God did for us.

Luke 6:35 takes it further still, calling believers to love enemies, do good without expectation of return, and reflect the character of a God who is kind even to the ungrateful and the wicked. This is not naive or passive. It is the hardest and most countercultural expression of grace there is. And it only becomes possible when the grace received has gone deep enough to overflow.

Finally, grace is not only for the beginning of faith or the middle of life. It carries all the way home. The final years of life can be among the hardest because they may bring the slow loss of health, strength, and independence. But the same grace that gave a new heart at the start of the journey is the grace that sustains through the end of it. John 1:16 speaks of grace upon grace, wave after wave, sufficient for every moment.

The filter can be replaced. The warmth can flow again. The grace of God is still running, still available, still being lavished on those who will receive it.

The only question is whether the heart is open enough to let it in.

Where might something be keeping you from fully receiving God’s grace? Take time this week to bring that place honestly before Him and ask Him to help you receive the grace He is already offering.

Watch Pastor Fred’s full message, Grace for the Journey, to explore how God’s grace gives us a new heart, sustains us along the road, and helps us extend grace to others.

Curious About FRC? Let’s Connect Over Pizza! 
We’d love to invite you to a fun and casual pizza lunch where you can learn more about First Reformed Church! 
When? Sunday, September 27, right after the second service at 11:45 AM
Where? FRC Fellowship Hall 
Come enjoy delicious pizza, take a guided tour of our building, meet our friendly staff, and get your questions answered. We’re excited to share what makes FRC such a special place—and how you can be part of it! 
We can’t wait to meet you! See you there! 

These are important years as children begin building the foundation of their faith. Through engaging Bible teaching, meaningful relationships, and fun, Christ-centered activities, children age 3 through grade 5 will learn to know God, trust Jesus, and live out their faith. Meets Sundays beginning September 13 from 9:40-10:20 AM.

Students in grades 6-12 will explore the final chapters of Old Testament history, following God’s people through exile, restoration, and their return home. Through Daniel, Ezra, Esther, Nehemiah, and the prophets, students will see God’s faithfulness and discover how He prepared the way for Jesus. Meets Sundays, September 13-December 20, from 9:40-10:20 AM in the Loft.

Find a place to belong, build meaningful connections, and explore how faith meets everyday life through a short lesson and group discussion. Meets in the Library.

Discover how this historic teaching tool continues to deepen our understanding of God’s Word. A rotating teaching team will guide the class using G. I. Williamson’s The Heidelberg Catechism Study Guide as a resource. Meets in the Office Conference Room.

Discover a variety of teachers and topics throughout the fall. Join us September 13 for an introduction to the semester’s upcoming offerings. Beginning September 20, Mike Kamerman will lead a three-week series on nurturing relationships as part of our Helping Families Win initiative.