Legend Community Church

When was the last time you realized you were wrong about God?

In Judges 11, Jephthah is absolutely convinced he knows what God wants. He’s so committed to doing what he believes is right that he never stops to ask whether he’s actually right. And the consequences are devastating.

This week at Legend, we explored the difference between knowing about God and actually knowing God—and why curiosity, humility, and a willingness to be wrong might be essential to becoming more like Jesus.

What if growing in faith means not having all the answers, but never losing our desire to know God more deeply?

What happens when everyone does what’s right in their own eyes?

In our new series, Bible Horror Stories, Eric explores one of Scripture’s most disturbing passages: the story of the Levite and his concubine in Judges 19. It’s a brutal picture of what happens when selfishness, violence, and indifference take hold—even among people who claim to belong to God.

This story challenges us to examine our own blind spots and confront the suffering around us. But Eric’s invitation is to face the horror without surrendering to despair: seek what is true, beautiful, and good, and practice radical hospitality. At the communion table, we encounter Jesus, who enters the world’s darkness and welcomes us into a different way of living.

How do we hold onto a vision of goodness, healing, and new creation when the powers of the world seem so good at resisting—or even absorbing—every attempt to change it?

In the final sermon of our Between Two Trees series, Jason returns to the closing words of Revelation and discovers something surprising: after giving the church this enormous vision of a world made new, John doesn’t end with a strategy, a program, or a to-do list. He ends with a prayer: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

Maybe the future Revelation imagines isn’t something we can manufacture. Maybe the church doesn’t need more cleverness, better programs, or greater effort as much as we need more of Jesus.

Together, we pray John’s final prayer over ourselves, our relationships, our neighborhoods, our work, our politics, and our church—and then hear Jesus’ invitation in return: “Let the one who is thirsty come.”

The Bible ends not with something for us to accomplish, but with an invitation to trust, receive, and pray: Come, Lord Jesus.

How do we hold onto a vision of goodness, healing, and new creation when the powers of the world seem so good at resisting—or even absorbing—every attempt to change it?

In the final sermon of our Between Two Trees series, Jason returns to the closing words of Revelation and discovers something surprising: after giving the church this enormous vision of a world made new, John doesn’t end with a strategy, a program, or a to-do list. He ends with a prayer: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

Maybe the future Revelation imagines isn’t something we can manufacture. Maybe the church doesn’t need more cleverness, better programs, or greater effort as much as we need more of Jesus.

Together, we pray John’s final prayer over ourselves, our relationships, our neighborhoods, our work, our politics, and our church—and then hear Jesus’ invitation in return: “Let the one who is thirsty come.”

The Bible ends not with something for us to accomplish, but with an invitation to trust, receive, and pray: Come, Lord Jesus.

In Revelation 21, John imagines a city so secure that its gates never need to close. What would it look like to begin living with that kind of security now?

In this week’s message from our Between Two Trees series, Eric explores the story of Maximilian Kolbe, the strange spiritual wisdom of waiting for a cookie, and Jesus’ call to a life of self-giving love. Rather than protecting our comfort and clinging to false substitutes for security, we can learn to live now out of the world God has promised—a world of open gates, resurrection, and restoration.

Even small acts of sacrifice can become “shafts of light” in dark places, giving the world a glimpse of the kingdom that is coming.

John’s vision of the New Jerusalem contains something astonishing: there is no temple, because God’s presence fills the whole city. In this sermon from Revelation 21:2–3 and 22–23, Jason explores how the church becomes a living, imperfect symbol of that promised future—a community marked by welcome, generosity, reconciliation, and care for the vulnerable.

In the opening sermon of Between Two Trees, Justin introduces Revelation 21–22 not as a coded roadmap for escaping the world, but as a vision of where God is taking it.

From the Tree of Life in Genesis to the Tree of Life in the New Jerusalem, Scripture tells a story of God making all things new: death defeated, tears wiped away, nations healed, gates thrown open, and God dwelling with humanity. If that is where the story is headed, Revelation asks a much more important question than When will the end come?:

How should that future change the way we live right now?

Justin explores how Christians can begin pulling that promised future into the present through healing, reconciliation, generosity, Sabbath, care for creation, hospitality, and a way of life that refuses the fear, greed, and power of “Babylon.”

What if the deepest truth about you isn’t that you’re a sinner who somehow convinced God to forgive you, but that you are deeply and eternally loved?

As we conclude our six-week journey through Jesus’ prayer in John 17, Jason looks at Jesus’ final request for his followers: “that the love you have for me may be in them.” Before the cross, before empire, before sin and death, even before creation itself, there was love between the Father and the Son. And Jesus prays that we would be brought into that love.

What changes when we actually believe that? What kind of people could we become if we no longer had to protect ourselves, earn our worth, defeat our enemies, or live afraid of losing? And what kind of church could be built around the conviction that God loves us, our neighbors, and even those unlike us with a love older than creation itself?

In the final week of our series on John 17, we explore Jesus’ audacious prayer, the love that carried him toward the cross, and what might happen when that same love becomes the foundation beneath everything we do.