Rise City Church Podcast

In a world pulling us in opposite directions, how do we stay anchored? The church in Colossae faced two distortions—diluted faith (Jesus + the world) and distorted faith (Jesus + religion). One softens truth to fit culture; the other adds pressure to earn what grace already gives. Both drift from the center. So Paul doesn’t say “try harder”—he lifts their eyes to Jesus and calls them to hold fast. Because it’s not the sincerity of our faith that saves us, but the strength of the One we trust. A church that holds fast is marked by faith rooted in Jesus, love poured out toward His people, and hope anchored beyond this world. It resists compromise without losing compassion, and pursues truth without losing unity. It loves the Bride, stands with other gospel churches, and lives “Kingdom down, not culture up.” Fix your hope on what’s ahead, and it will reshape how you live now. Hold fast to Jesus—and become a people who bring heaven to earth.

We spend our lives chasing what feels secure—building bigger barns, stacking up more, trying to create a life that finally feels enough. But what if everything we’re building is pointed in the wrong direction? In this message, special guest Randy Alcorn reframes our understanding of wealth, not as something to own, but something to steward. Jesus doesn’t just challenge where we put our money—He exposes what has our heart. Because wherever our treasure goes, our heart is already following. Through the lens of eternity, we’re invited into a better way to live—not for the temporary “dot” of this life, but for the unending “line” that follows. In Christ, we don’t give out of guilt, but as a response to grace—a joyful reorientation of our lives toward what truly lasts. This message calls us to loosen our grip on what won’t last and live open-handed, trusting the One who gave everything for us, and discovering that real life—the kind Jesus offers—is found not in keeping, but in giving.

All across the world, millions are gathering to celebrate one reality: Jesus didn’t stay in the grave—He got up. And when He walked out of that tomb, He didn’t just change history… He changed your story. Because the gospel doesn’t start with your failure—it starts with a God who made you in love and came after you when you were far from Him. Paul gives us a compelling framework for the Gospel in Ephesians 2: Love, Death, Raised, Grace. Out of love, Jesus stepped into our death, carried our sin, and then walked out of the grave in victory. And now, because He lives, you can live. This is grace—fully given, freely received. And today, the invitation is simple: step into the life He’s already secured for you. Because the grave is empty— and that means new life is possible.

What if the darkest parts of your story aren’t random—but already accounted for? Between the Last Supper and the cross, Jesus walks through betrayal, anxiety, abuse, rejection, and injustice—and none of it is accidental. Every step, every encounter, is a preview of what He is about to carry. Because what He faces along the way reveals what He’s going to pay for. Your sin, yes—but also your sorrow. Your wounds. Your anxiety. Your story is already in the pages, and Jesus is already moving toward it. On Good Friday, we don’t just remember what Jesus did—we recognize what He picked up. The cross is where He takes on everything we’ve done and everything that’s been done to us. And still, He says, “It is finished.” This is an invitation to bring your whole story into His—to lay it down, to let Him carry it, and to see with fresh eyes that the darkness is not the end. Because even here, there’s a glimmer of hope… Sunday is coming.

Crowds can make it easy to assume the work is already being done. Someone else will invite. Someone else will reach out. Someone else will carry the burden. But in Mark 2, four friends refuse to leave their hurting friend outside the house where Jesus is teaching. When they cannot get through the door, they go through the roof. Their faith does not stop at good intentions—it moves, lifts, tears, and makes a way. This week, as we set the table for Easter, we are reminded that people are still searching for light in a dark world, and Jesus is still the One who changes everything. Join us as we discover our responsibility and privilege in bringing people to Him—because when someone gets to the feet of Jesus, forgiveness, healing, and new life are never far behind.

What if the reason you feel stuck financially isn’t because you don’t make enough—but because no one ever taught you how to think about money? There's a tension most people live with: income goes up, but so does stress.  We’ve been sold the lie that a higher standard of living leads to a better life, yet many are discovering the opposite—more income, more pressure, more anxiety.  If money is a magnifier, then it’s not fixing anything—it’s revealing everything. And until that changes, nothing changes. But what if there’s a different way to live? God's word sermon lays out a clear framework for financial peace—not through getting more, but through creating margin.  With practical wisdom on giving, investing, debt, and long-term thinking, you’ll see how small, faithful decisions today can reshape your future for decades to come. Because this isn’t just about money—it’s about freedom, legacy, and learning to steward what God has entrusted to you in a way that leads to His Glory and our joy.

There is a quiet battle happening in every heart. Jesus described it clearly: no one can serve two masters. Something will always sit on the throne of our lives—our security, our savings, our comfort, or our King. The question every disciple must answer is simple but searching: who truly reigns in our hearts? Jesus teaches that our lives are not built around ownership but stewardship—faithfully managing what belongs to God. When we recognize that everything we have is from Him and for Him, generosity becomes more than a financial decision; it becomes a declaration of trust. Join us as we discover how honoring God with what He has entrusted to us moves us from holding tightly to living open-handed—and into the life of overflow God desires for His people.

Many of us live with a quiet fear: What if I don’t have enough? Enough money. Enough strength. Enough time. Enough faith. In 2 Kings 4, a desperate widow feels that same fear when creditors come to take her sons as payment for a debt she cannot pay. But what she sees as “nothing but a small jar of oil” becomes the starting point of God’s miraculous provision. God often works through what feels small, ordinary, and insufficient—because His power is revealed through surrendered lives. The God we serve is not a God of scarcity but a God of overflow. Join us as we explore how God fills what we place in His hands—and how even the smallest offering can become the beginning of something extraordinary.

Twelve years in, it would be easy to start believing our own press. We’re growing. We’re hungry. We’re bringing friends. There’s momentum, influence, reach. But Paul confronts that instinct in 1 Corinthians: “Not many of you were wise… influential… of noble birth.” God chose the foolish. God chose the weak. God chose the lowly—so that no one may boast before Him.The reason anything is happening in this church is not because we are great—it’s because God is good. Not because we hustle—it’s because He moves first. This city does not need our abilities and strategies—it needs a crucified and risen Savior lifted high. So we resolve to know nothing except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. We are a people formed by grace, fueled by the Spirit, and sent for the glory of the King. We boast in the Lord—and together we shine His name over our city. We boast in Jesus.

We all know what’s wrong with the world. Or at least we think we do. It’s the system. The culture. The other side. But Scripture turns the mirror toward us. The fracture in our relationships doesn’t begin “out there” — it begins in the old self, the part of us that protects pride, feeds resentment, and quietly keeps score. Until Jesus deals with the corruption in our own hearts, healing stays out of reach. The cross doesn’t just diagnose evil; it defeats it. And forgiveness is how resurrection power starts repairing what sin has broken. In Colossians 3:5–14, Paul calls us to put off the old self and put on the new — to clothe ourselves with compassion, humility, patience, and above all, love. “Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Because we are already chosen and dearly loved, we can release the wound and refuse to let it define our future. Christ’s forgiveness is stronger than our offense. And when we forgive, healing becomes possible — in our hearts, in our homes, and in our church.

We live in a world that celebrates visibility, scale, and success—yet Jesus tells a story in Matthew 25 that reframes what actually matters. The Master doesn’t commend influence or outcomes; He says, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Each servant receives a different entrustment, but the call is the same: steward what you’ve been given. Faithfulness means resisting comparison, surrendering entitlement at the cross, and trusting that what God places in your hands today is neither random nor small. Faithfulness also unfolds over time. There are seasons of waiting that shape our trust, moments when doubt whispers and fear urges us to play it safe. But the gospel anchors us: the same Christ who entrusted you with your assignment has proven His character at the cross. So we refuse to bury what He’s given. We offer it back—our time, gifts, influence, resources—and trust Him to multiply it for His purposes. And in the end, the reward is not status but relationship: sharing in the joy of the Master, right here

Most people assume purpose is something you must invent or achieve, but Scripture tells a different story. God didn’t just save you from something—He saved you for something. In a world contested by good and evil, every life is shaping the future of something larger than itself. Grace pulls us out of death, but it also places us into God’s unfolding plan to heal what’s broken. Ephesians declares that we are God’s workmanship—His work of art—formed by grace and shaped through surrender. Like a master sculptor, God chips away through trials, obedience, and service, revealing the image of Christ within us. Good works don’t earn heaven; they bring heaven to earth. As we commit to gathering regularly, joining the team, and stewarding what we’ve been given, we begin walking in the purpose God prepared long before we ever knew His name.

We long to be known—but we fear what might happen if we actually are. Yet from the earliest days of the church, God’s people devoted themselves to shared life: shared meals, shared prayers, shared needs. Even Paul—the tireless missionary—needed friends, family, and community to remain faithful. True community is where masks come off and grace moves in. It’s where someone notices when you’re not okay, celebrates your wins, and walks with you through your struggles. Jesus created space to be fully known among His closest followers—and then carried our isolation to the cross so we could belong fully to God and His people. When we step into gospel-centered community, we don’t just find connection—we find formation, healing, and hope.

Everyone needs their people. Scripture is filled with them—Adam had his partner, David his mighty men, Esther her mentor, Paul his companions, and even Jesus surrounded Himself with friends when facing the cross. Isolation makes us vulnerable, but community makes us resilient. Like a herd protecting its own, the church becomes the place where faith is guarded, sharpened, and sustained. The enemy isolates; Jesus gathers. Jesus steps into this fractured world and forms a people. He calls disciples into shared life, sends them two by two, and builds His church as a gathered body. Faith flourishes in community because community reflects the very nature of God Himself. Jesus calls us to something better: a church where burdens are shared, hope is reinforced, and discipleship is lived side-by-side.

Most of us want deep change, but we want it fast. We long for peace without patience, love without pruning, and freedom without formation. Yet Jesus tells us the truth: lasting transformation only happens through abiding. Just as branches don’t produce fruit by effort, we cannot become who God intends apart from a life rooted in Christ. We all abide somewhere—and whatever we abide in is forming us. Jesus reveals Himself as the true Vine, the One who supplies life, love, and growth. As we remain in Him, the Spirit reshapes our desires, heals our wounds, and forms us into people of love, joy, and self-control. This is not an overnight miracle, but a long obedience in the same direction. The invitation is hopeful and freeing: make your home in the love of Jesus, and trust that over time, He will shape your life into something beautiful and strong.

Most of us assume spiritual growth begins with clarity—having answers, confidence, or conviction. But in John 1, discipleship begins somewhere far more honest: curiosity. Before belief, before commitment, Jesus invites two searching men with simple words—“Come and see.” We all need an encounter with Jesus for ourselves. You can’t follow a Jesus you’ve never met. Discipleship deepens as encounter becomes abiding—when time with Jesus turns from a moment into a rhythm. As we open Scripture, we’re not just reading ancient words—we’re meeting the living Christ. Discipleship flourishes when time with Jesus becomes a daily rhythm, not a distant memory. The invitation still stands: meet Him, remain with Him, and allow His life to reshape yours from the inside out.

We are always being formed—by what we give our attention to, who we listen to, and the rhythms that shape our days. Every habit is pointing us somewhere. The question isn’t whether formation is happening, but who is shaping us. Jesus’ invitation, “Come, follow me,” cuts through distracted, half-present faith and calls us into an intentional life of apprenticeship with Him. This week, we’re launching our Discipleship Pathway—a clear way to follow Jesus together. At the center is Jesus Himself, not just what He teaches, but how He forms people over time. As we learn to be with Him, become like Him, and join Him in His Kingdom work, we discover a faith that reshapes every part of life. The invitation is still open to whoever is willing to take their next step on the way of Jesus.

Jesus often shows up where we least expect Him—in overlooked places, through ordinary people, during hidden seasons. In Luke 1, God begins the greatest rescue story not in a palace but in Nazareth, not with prestige but with humility. Mary isn’t chosen because of her résumé but because of grace. Jesus enters the world quietly, but with eternal purpose, showing us that God often does His greatest work in the places we’re tempted to overlook. Scripture reveals Jesus as the promised King, the Savior whose very name means “God saves,” and the One the Holy Spirit is always pointing us toward. We’ll see how faith grows not through proximity or effort, but through revelation—and how hidden seasons often prepare us for holy moments. Stop searching elsewhere and recognize the One who has been searching for us all along. Don’t miss Jesus—the Savior who came to rescue, reign, and restore.

Most of us don’t realize the weight of what we’re carrying. Like David, we’re often living inside a story bigger than we can see—faithfully holding responsibilities, wounds, and callings without knowing how God might use them. Long before the crown, David learned dependence as a shepherd, repentance as a worshiper, and courage as an overlooked fighter. His life reveals that God’s promise doesn’t move through perfection or control, but through hearts that return to Him and trust Him fully. David’s story ultimately points beyond himself to Jesus—the greater Shepherd who carries the wounded, the better King who restores broken hearts, and the true Victor who fights the battle we could never win. Tune in as we discover what David carried, what Jesus has already accomplished, and how surrendering what’s in our hands places us inside God’s unfolding story of redemption and hope.

Most of us assume spiritual growth happens in mountaintop moments—when God shows up loudly and life finally makes sense. But what if real transformation happens in the long, ordinary stretches in between? Jacob’s story tells the truth we often miss: God doesn’t wait for us to get it together. He works through messy families, immature prayers, unresolved wounds, and years that feel painfully unremarkable. In Genesis 32, we find Jacob no longer bargaining with God, but clinging to Him—humble, grateful, and desperate for grace. Tune in as special guest Rick McKinley traces Jacob’s journey from deceiver to dependent, from running to wrestling, and discover how God uses ordinary faithfulness to form resilient, mature trust. Hope is growing, even when you can’t yet see it.