God lifts the lowly and humbles the proud; true power starts with surrender and trust.

Exile runs through every page of Genesis – but God is always moving toward return, blessing, and incarnation.

In this Advent sermon, Trey invites us to slow down, breathe, and consider what it really means to bear the image of God. Using stories from childhood Magic Eye books to mountain fog in Shenandoah, he shows how our view of Jesus can become fuzzy—and how Scripture clarifies what the world distorts.
Rooted in Colossians 1, this message explores Christ as the true Image, the One who holds all things together, and the One restoring His likeness in us. If you’ve ever wrestled with spiritual winters, comparison, or the fear that you’re “not worth hearing from God,” this sermon offers hope: Jesus is present, patient, and committed to transforming us.
Advent reminds us to look again. To lift our eyes. To behold the One who sees us clearly—and makes us like Himself.

Advent doesn’t begin with twinkle lights and hot chocolate. It begins in the dark. In this message, Chris traces the story from Eden to Exile—through Cain and Lamech, the flood and Babel, Israel and Babylon—to show a repeated pattern: autonomy, fracture, exile… and surprising grace.

This first week of Advent names the ache: the world is not as it should be, and neither are we. But into that long history of human failure, God comes near. Jesus steps into the pattern and breaks it from the inside—absorbing violence, reversing revenge, surrendering where Adam grasped.

With Pentecost as the great reversal of Babel, we see how the Spirit now writes a new pattern in us: surrender instead of autonomy, honesty instead of hiding, love instead of violence, bearing the name of Jesus instead of making a name for ourselves. Advent hope isn’t optimism; it’s a Person. The light has come, the light is coming, and the light now lives in you.

In this sermon on the Tower of Babel, Pastor Chris explores the deep human impulse to build lives of self-reliance—lives shaped by fear, control, and the need to make a name for ourselves. Far from a story about ancient architecture, Babel reveals the patterns we still live in today: the bricks we stack to feel safe, the towers we build to feel significant, and the names we chase to feel seen.

But God’s response is not anger—it’s mercy. Scattering becomes protection. Confusion becomes rescue. And the story bends toward a promise: a God who comes down, who breaks the power of fear, and who gives a name we don’t have to earn. Through Babel, Pentecost, and the hope of the New Jerusalem, this message invites us into the freedom of smallness, trust, and the strong tower of God’s unfailing love.