Don't forget to remember (not to forget!)

Have you ever had one of those inside jokes with dear friends — just a sentence that, when spoken, sends everyone into laughter without another word? One of ours is this: “Don’t forget to remember not to forget.”

It sounds ridiculous… until you realize how often we do exactly that.

In Mark 8, the disciples are in a boat with Jesus. They’ve just witnessed Him feed 4,000 people — miraculously. And yet, as they climb into the boat, they panic because they forgot to bring enough bread.

Bread.

They are worried about bread… while sitting next to the Bread of Life.

Before we judge them too quickly, let’s be honest — aren’t we the same? God answers a prayer. God provides. God heals. God opens a door. And a few months later we’re wringing our hands again, wondering if there will be “enough.”

Jesus gently reminds them:
“When I fed the 5,000… how many baskets were left?”
“When I fed the 4,000… how many baskets were left?”

In other words: Have you forgotten already?

Here’s the good news — the miracle of the loaves didn’t just happen once. It happened twice. That means if God did it once, God can do it again. The same God who carried you through before has not changed.

And I love this: Jesus doesn’t ask, “Why don’t you have more?”
He asks, “How many loaves do you have?”

That question changes everything.

Instead of obsessing over what we lack, Jesus invites us to take inventory of what we’ve been given. A little faith. A little strength. A little creativity. A little compassion. In our hands, it may not feel like enough. But once placed in His hands? That’s where multiplication begins.

And here’s something else that moves me deeply: Jesus cared about their souls — and their stomachs. He preached truth, yes.

But He also fed hungry bodies. Our God cares about your salvation and your circumstances. Your faith and your bills. Your eternity and your Tuesday afternoon.

If it matters to you, it matters to Him.

So today, whatever boat you find yourself in — whatever “not enough” you’re staring at — don’t forget to remember not to forget:

• God has provided before.

• God is with you now.

• God will do it again.

Take what you have.
Place it in His hands.
Trust Him — even in the breaking.

Because our God still multiplies. And there will be leftovers.

Created for Community

On Sunday we were blessed to have Mike Gordon hang out with us.  What a treat for me to sit and listen to him share a simple and powerful truth: we were created for community!

He told us that we are living in what many are calling a loneliness epidemic. Sure, we are more digitally connected than ever before, yet many people feel unseen, unknown, and isolated. We can scroll for hours and still feel alone. We can sit in crowded rooms and still feel disconnected.

From the very beginning of Scripture, we are told something profound.

In Genesis, after declaring creation “good” again and again, God says something is not good: “It is not good for the (hu)man to be alone.” Everything else in creation was good—but isolation was not. Before sin entered the world, before brokenness and division, loneliness was identified as something contrary to God’s design.

We were created for community.

We were formed for relationship — with God and with one another. To be known. To be supported. To share burdens. To celebrate joys. To laugh, pray, serve, and grow together. Community is not a luxury for the spiritually mature; it is essential for being human.

And yet, loneliness creeps in quietly. It can happen in every season of life — in young adulthood, in parenting, in retirement. It can come through loss, transition, misunderstanding, or simply busyness. Sometimes it isn’t the absence of people; it’s the absence of meaningful connection.

So what does this mean for us at Amberlea?

This is what I took from what Mike shared with us….It means church is more than a Sunday service. It is more than attending worship and heading home. It is an invitation into belonging.

Being part of Amberlea as a community might look like:

• Staying for coffee and conversation.

• Joining a Life group or Bible study.

• Serving on a ministry team.

• Reaching out to someone you don’t yet know.

• Saying yes when invited.

• Asking for prayer when you need it.

Community requires intention. It requires showing up — not just physically, but relationally. It requires vulnerability. And yes, sometimes it requires courage.

But here is the beautiful truth: the church is not a place for perfect people. It is a gathering of those who know they need one another. When we lean into community, we reflect the heart of God — the One who said it is not good for us to be alone.

If you’re feeling lonely, you are not weak. You are human. And you are not alone in that feeling.

Let’s be the kind of church that notices one another.
Let’s be the kind of church that creates space at the table.
Let’s be the kind of church where no one slips in and out unseen.

Because from the beginning, God declared it clearly: we were never meant to walk this life alone.

Snorkelling Lessons for the soul

This past week, Brian and I joined Brian’s brother and sister-in-law at their home away from home in Bonaire. The three of them are avid scuba divers. I am not.

So while they were out doing the scuba thing, I stayed back at the apartment—overlooking the ocean—preparing my Lent and Easter messages. The apartment had a dock with steps leading straight into the sea, making a swim in the ocean both easy and inviting. The water was so clear and impossibly blue that I finally decided to take a break. While the others were away, I would go snorkelling.

Fins on. Mask on. Snorkel in. And off I went.

While snorkelling, I found myself captivated by the fish—not because they were flashy or rare, but because of how they moved.

They didn’t fight the waves.
They didn’t panic when the current shifted.
They simply relaxed… and went with it.

As the water swayed back and forth, the fish moved in rhythm with it—effortless, unhurried, trusting. Watching them felt like a quiet lesson in how much energy we waste resisting what we cannot control.

It made me wonder: how often do we exhaust ourselves fighting the current of life?

We push against seasons we didn’t choose. We tense up when plans change. We struggle to hold everything together, convinced that peace comes from control. But those fish reminded me that survival—and even joy—sometimes comes from surrender, not striving.

Scripture echoes this wisdom again and again:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
— Psalm 46:10

Stillness isn’t passivity. It’s trust.
It’s choosing to believe that God is present in the waves, not just the calm.

Jesus offers a similar invitation:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28

Rest doesn’t mean the currents disappear. It means we stop fighting them alone.

There are seasons when God calls us to act boldly—and seasons when faith looks like floating, breathing, and letting the Spirit carry us where we need to go. Like the fish, we are not meant to live clenched and rigid. We are created to move with grace, guided by a current far wiser than our own effort.

So maybe the question isn’t, How do I stop the waves?
Maybe it’s, Can I trust God enough to move with them?

Today, if life feels choppy, take heart. Loosen your grip. Breathe deeply. Let yourself be held.

God is in the water with you—and the current, somehow, knows the way. 🌊🐟