Dear Church Family,

As I sit and reflect on the week that has just passed, I find myself overwhelmed—not just by the busyness of Holy Week, but by the sheer depth of what we experienced together as a church family. From Maundy Thursday to Resurrection Sunday, we walked through the final days of Jesus’ life with open hearts and attentive spirits.

The journey began with the Maundy Thursday service, where we explored the rich symbolism of Christ in the Passover meal. Each element—the bitter herbs, the lamb, the matzah, and more—came alive with meaning, pointing us to Jesus, our perfect Passover Lamb. This ancient meal wasn’t just tradition; it was prophecy fulfilled in Jesus.

This led to our Good Friday. Through the 3 dramatic presentations, we were given a glimpse into the hearts of those whose lives were forever changed by Jesus' death—Mary, Peter, and one we rarely consider, Judas. Their stories became our own. We saw ourselves in their grief, their regret, their wonder.

But what struck me most deeply was what happened after the Good Friday service concluded. One by one, you approached the wooden cross, each carrying a small black cloth—symbolic of your own sin, shame, burdens, and brokenness. Quietly, you took a nail and affixed it to the cross. I stood back and watched. And then, after the last person had left, I stayed behind.

I stood there, gazing at the cross now covered in black cloths, each one representing a life, a story, a need for grace. The weight of it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. This was one small room. One church. One night. And yet the cross was covered. Then my mind expanded to think of the sins of our whole congregation... our town... our nation... our world. Every sin, every shameful act, every hidden thought, every sorrow of every generation—past, present, and future—laid upon the shoulders of Jesus.

It was overwhelming.

And yet, He bore it all. Gladly. Willingly. Fully.

The words of the old hymn echoed in my heart: “When I survey the wondrous cross / On which the Prince of glory died / My richest gain I count but loss / And pour contempt on all my pride.”

Holy Week reminded me that the cross is not just a symbol of suffering—it is a monument of love. A love that does not shrink from the weight of the world’s brokenness, but embraces it to bring healing and redemption.

To everyone who helped make this week so meaningful—thank you. Thank you to our musicians who led us in worship with such sincerity. Thank you to the drama team for bringing the Gospel to life with authenticity and power. Thank you to the choir, the technical crew, our staff, and the many volunteers who worked tirelessly behind the scenes. Thanks to our cooks and kitchen crew for the wonderful breakfast.  Thanks to the youth and youth leaders for an awesome sunrise service.  Thanks to the guys who moved the baptistry!  And thank you to each of you who came, who participated, who reflected, and who brought your heart to the cross.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. And because of that, everything has changed.

Let us steward the Gospel with gratitude and awe.

Loving you all, 
Michael