Community- Rooted

Core Values: Week 5

Good morning, Church. If you’ve got your Bibles—and I’m going to assume you do because you’re here and not still in bed—turn with me to Hebrews 10.

Before we dive in, let’s just name the obvious: time change is brutal. You either lose an hour and feel robbed, or you gain one and your internal clock still decides 5:15 a.m. is the hill it’s willing to die on. Either way, we made it. And I’m thankful you’re in the room.

Faithfulness usually shows up in the plain, unglamorous places—like being present on a Sunday morning when everything in you wanted to stay horizontal. That’s not small. That’s real.

Looking out this morning, I see God doing steady, quiet work among us. Nothing flashy, just faithful fruit.

Last Wednesday at the mission meeting, we now have nine people committed to going on mission. Nine members of this body saying, “I’ll go. I’ll step out. I’ll carry the gospel past my own front door.” That’s not a number on a spreadsheet. That’s people choosing to live sent. That’s the kind of obedience that matters.

Last Sunday we launched the Young Adults class, and ten of them gathered to open Scripture together. Ten young adults deciding the Word was worth their time instead of drifting into whatever else the world was offering. That’s not incidental. That’s discipleship taking root in real time.

That’s movement. That’s life in the body. That’s the Lord at work in ordinary ways.

These past few weeks we’ve been clear about who we are—not what programs we run or what makes us “different” in a marketing sense, but what actually holds us together.

We are Gospel-centered. Jesus and His finished work aren’t an add-on; they’re the center everything else flows from.

We are Bible-driven. We don’t build on feelings, trends, or whoever’s loudest. We stand on the authority and sufficiency of Scripture.

We are Prayer-fueled. If the Lord isn’t the one building, we’re just making noise (Psalm 127:1).

We are Discipleship-focused. We’re not chasing shallow commitment or weekend Christianity. We want men and women who grow deep—mature in understanding, consistent in obedience, steady under pressure.

All of it serves the mission God has given us: To make strong disciples who know God’s Word, live God’s way, and advance God’s mission.

And our vision is straightforward: Cedar Bay Baptist Church is a gospel-driven church advancing the Kingdom by making disciples who stand firm in truth and live sent in the world.

Here’s the part we can’t skip this morning: none of that happens by ourselves

You don’t become a strong disciple in isolation. You don’t stand firm in truth when you’re detached from the body. You don’t live sent while treating the church like an optional weekly event.

The New Testament never pictures Christianity as a solo sport. It shows a people—a covenant community—joined by the blood of Christ, shaped by His Word, and accountable to one another for pressing on.

That’s why this next core value isn’t optional or nice-to-have. Not because community always feels warm and comforting (though it often does). But because God designed the Christian life to be lived in close connection with others—encouraging one another on hard days, carrying each other’s burdens, sharpening one another through honest conversation, and holding fast to truth when the world tries to pull us away.

If we’re genuinely committed to the mission and vision we say we believe, we need to stop treating community like something optional or secondary. It’s not an add-on for the especially committed. It’s the ordinary, God-ordained way He grows and sustains His people.

You’ve probably heard me mention covenant membership more than once—some of you might even be tired of hearing it. Let me be clear: this has nothing to do with trying to grow a bigger list of names or inflate numbers.

Scripture presents covenant as a serious, relational commitment made in the presence of God. He binds Himself to His people in covenant love, and throughout the Bible we see His people making binding commitments to one another in faithfulness and love.

Church membership, understood biblically, isn’t a legal contract or a formality. It’s a voluntary, Christ-centered promise to walk together in obedience to God’s Word—for His glory and for one another’s good.

We’re not simply individuals who attend the same service. We are a family of faith—united in Christ, accountable to one another, and called to love and serve one another with genuine devotion and truth.

That kind of community doesn’t form by accident. It has to be intentionally built, carefully protected, and grounded in something far deeper than personal preferences or personalities.

Before we turn to Hebrews 10 this morning, it’s important to understand the setting of the letter.

Hebrews—traditionally linked to Paul, though the author doesn’t sign his name—was written to believers facing a genuine spiritual crisis. These were Christians who had confessed faith in Christ, gathered regularly with the church, and endured real hardship. But the pressure was mounting. Opposition was intensifying. Following Jesus was becoming costly and inconvenient.

Under that strain, they were in real danger of drifting—not necessarily rejecting Christ in one dramatic act, but gradually loosening their hold on the gospel. The writer warns repeatedly about the danger of hardening hearts through unbelief, the risk of falling away, and points back to Israel in the wilderness: a generation that saw God’s mighty works yet still failed to enter His rest because of unbelief.

There were also clear signs of spiritual immaturity. In chapter 5 the author tells them plainly: by this time you should be teachers, but instead you still need someone to teach you the basics. You’ve become dull of hearing. They were hesitant to move deeper into solid teaching and seemed content with surface-level understanding.

And perhaps most relevant for our passage today—some were beginning to neglect the regular gathering of believers. The habit of meeting together was slipping. Isolation was starting to feel easier than perseverance.

So here’s the key: Hebrews was written to tired, pressured believers who were tempted to pull back and in danger of drifting spiritually.

That’s the exact context into which Hebrews 10 speaks.

And the answer the writer gives is not self-reliance, not “pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” not isolated personal effort.

It is perseverance rooted firmly in Christ—and sustained through the encouragement and accountability of community.We are Community-Rooted.

Not because community feels warm and fuzzy (though it can). But because God wired the Christian life to be lived together—encouraging one another, bearing burdens, sharpening each other, holding one another to the truth when the world pulls the other direction.

So if we’re serious about the mission and vision we keep saying we believe, we have to stop treating community like an accessory. It’s not extra credit. It’s how God grows His people. Thats normal Christianity.

You hear me talk about covenant membership often, some of ya’ll are probably sick of it. It has nothing to do with wanting to build a larger membership roll.

It is because Scripture speaks of covenant as a sacred, relational commitment before the Lord. God binds Himself to His people, and throughout the Bible we see His people bind themselves to one another in faithfulness.

Church membership, rightly understood, is not a contract — it is a shared commitment. A voluntary, Christ-centered promise to walk together in obedience to Scripture, for God’s glory and for one another’s good.

Because we are not a collection of individuals who attend the same service. We are a family of faith — united in Christ, accountable to one another, and devoted to one another in love and truth.

That kind of community does not happen accidentally. It must be cultivated. It must be protected. And it must be rooted in something deeper than preference or personality.

Before we look closely at the scriptures in Hebrews this morning, you need to understand the context of Hebrews.

The book of Hebrews — traditionally attributed to Paul, though the author never names himself — was written to Christians in a real spiritual crisis. These were believers who had professed Christ, who had gathered with the church, who had endured some measure of hardship. But the pressure was increasing. Opposition was real. And following Jesus was no longer convenient.

Under that pressure, they were in danger of drifting.

Not necessarily renouncing Christ in one dramatic moment, but slowly loosening their grip on the gospel. The writer repeatedly warns them about hardening their hearts in unbelief. He speaks about the danger of falling away. He reminds them of Israel in the wilderness — a people who saw God’s works and still failed to enter His rest because of unbelief.

There were also signs of immaturity. In chapter 5 he tells them, plainly, that they should be teachers by now. Instead, they still need milk. They had become sluggish in hearing. They were reluctant to press deeper into doctrine. They were content with surface-level understanding.

And perhaps most telling for our passage this morning — some were withdrawing from the regular gathering of believers. The rhythm of meeting together was being neglected. Isolation was beginning to feel easier than endurance.

So understand this clearly: Hebrews is written to people who are tired, pressured, tempted to retreat, and in danger of spiritual drift.

That is the environment into which Hebrews 10 speaks.

And the solution the writer offers is not self-reliance. It is not “try harder.” It is not individual spirituality.

It is perseverance rooted in Christ — and perseverance sustained in community.

but don’t take my word for it: Lets read Hebrews 10:19-25 together and see what God has in store.

Hebrews 10:19–25 ESV

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

Pray

1. Our Confidence Is Rooted in Christ’s Finished Work (vv. 19–21)

When the writer says, “Since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus…” (Hebrews 10:19, ESV), he is not using casual language.

You have to understand what that would have meant to a Jewish audience shaped by the Old Testament.

Under the Old Covenant, access to God was not open. It was structured, restricted, and guarded carefully. The tabernacle — and later the temple — was designed to teach distance. There was the outer court. Then the Holy Place. And then, behind the veil, the Most Holy Place — the Holy of Holies — where God’s presence was symbolically enthroned above the mercy seat.

Not everyone went in.

Only priests from the tribe of Levi could minister in the Holy Place. Not every Israelite. Not even every Levite. Only consecrated priests who had been set apart, washed, clothed properly, and instructed carefully. And they did not improvise. They followed detailed commands given by God. Worship was not creative expression. It was obedience.

And when it came to the Most Holy Place, the restrictions tightened.

Only the high priest entered. Only once a year. On the Day of Atonement. And he did not walk in empty-handed. He carried blood — first for his own sin, then for the sins of the people (Leviticus 16). Sacrifices were constant under the old system. Bulls, goats, lambs. Morning and evening. Day after day. Year after year. The repetition itself told you something: sin was not fully removed. It was covered, temporarily. The conscience was never finally cleansed.

No one strolled into the temple to “spend time with God.” That category did not exist. There was reverence. There was fear. There was distance. There was mediation.

And if you ignored the instructions, people died.

Nadab and Abihu are very clear warnings in Scripture.

When I referenced Nadab and Abihu, I was not being dramatic. I was being biblical.

In Leviticus 10, Nadab and Abihu — the sons of Aaron — were priests. Not pagans. Not outsiders. Priests. They had been consecrated. They had witnessed the glory of the Lord fall in Leviticus 9 when fire came out from before the Lord and consumed the offering on the altar.

They knew the instructions.

And then Leviticus 10:1–2 (ESV) says:

“Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, each took his censer and put fire in it and laid incense on it and offered unauthorized fire before the LORD, which he had not commanded them. And fire came out from before the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD.”

“Unauthorized fire.” Strange fire. Fire He had not commanded.

We are not told every detail of what they altered. Some believe they used coals not taken from the altar God had prescribed. Others note that later in the chapter priests are warned against entering the tent of meeting intoxicated, which may suggest they acted carelessly. What is clear is this: they approached God on their own terms instead of His.

They were priests who decided precision was unnecessary.

And they died instantly.

The same holy fire that had just consumed the sacrifice in worship now consumed them in judgment.

That is not an overreaction. That is holiness.

So when Hebrews says we have confidence to enter the holy places, that statement is massive.

Under the Old Covenant, the high priest entered the Most Holy Place once a year. One man. One day. With blood. And even then, it was temporary. When he walked back out, the barrier remained. The veil still hung. The system continued.

But Hebrews says something entirely different about us.

We do not wait for a calendar date. We do not depend on a human priest to represent us.

We do not bring another sacrifice because the sacrifice has already been offered. Once and for all time.

We have access.

And that access is not theoretical. It is not poetic language meant to inspire emotion. It is a covenant reality. Because of the blood of Jesus, believers now have the right to approach God directly — not the outer court, not standing at a distance — but into the true Holy Place, into the presence of God Himself.

And we do so with confidence.

In the greek its parrēsia.

Meaning all out-spokenness, i.e. frankness, bluntness, publicity; by implication, assurance:—boldness.

That does not mean irreverence. It means settled assurance. The barrier has been removed. The veil was torn when Christ died. The wrath has been satisfied.

So we are not hoping we will be received. We are not guessing whether we are welcome. We are not negotiating our standing.

We are received because Christ was rejected in our place. We are welcomed because His blood has spoken.

We can go to our Heavenly Father with the full assurances of God.

When I go to my parents house, I don’t wait outside and get ready to go in. I just go in.

I typicallt don’t even knock. I have a key. I have access.

Jesus is the key to access God.

Under the old system, access was fragile and temporary.

Under the New Covenant, access is constant and secure.

Which means at any moment — in corporate worship, in private prayer, in weakness, in need — we are not outside trying to get in.

We are invited to draw near.

Hebrews does not just say we have access. It tells us why.

“We have a great priest over the house of God” (Hebrews 10:21, ESV).

Under the Old Covenant, the high priest stood between God and the people. He represented them before the Lord. He offered sacrifices on their behalf. He entered the Most Holy Place carrying blood that was not his own. And he did it repeatedly, because the work was never finished.

But every high priest under that system had the same limitation.

He was a sinner.

Before he could represent the people, he had to offer sacrifice for himself. Before he could intercede for others, he had to deal with his own guilt. And eventually, every high priest died. The office continued because the man did not.

Hebrews makes it clear that Jesus is not like that.

He is our great High Priest — not from the line of Levi, but “after the order of Melchizedek” (Hebrews 7).

Who is Melchizedek?

Melchizedek appears briefly in Genesis 14. He is called both king of Salem and priest of God Most High. That combination is important. In Israel, kings and priests were separate offices — kings from Judah, priests from Levi. But Melchizedek is both.

He blesses Abraham, and Abraham gives him a tenth of everything. The greater blesses the lesser. Even Abraham honors him. Then he disappears from the story — no genealogy, no record of birth or death.

Centuries later, Psalm 110 says of the coming Messiah, “You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” That means the Messiah would not be a Levitical priest. He would hold a different, greater priesthood.

Hebrews explains that Jesus fulfills this. He is not a priest because of tribal descent — He is from Judah. He is priest because God appointed Him. His priesthood is not temporary. It does not pass to another. It is permanent because He lives forever.

So Jesus is both King and Priest. He reigns, and He intercedes. He does not offer repeated sacrifices like the Levitical priests. He offers Himself once. And unlike them, He does not die and leave the office vacant.

His priesthood is superior, final, and eternal.

That means His priesthood is not temporary or inherited in the normal sense. It is permanent. It is superior.

He does not offer sacrifice for His own sins, because He has none.

He does not bring the blood of bulls and goats, because those were shadows. He brings His own blood.

And He does not enter an earthly tent made with hands. He enters the true heavenly reality — the presence of God Himself — on our behalf (Hebrews 9).

And here is what separates Him from every priest who came before Him: when He offers Himself, He sits down.

The Old Testament priest never sat in the Holy Place because his work was never done. There were no chairs in the tabernacle. But Christ, after making purification for sins, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high (Hebrews 1:3).

That posture matters.

It means the sacrifice is complete. It means the wrath has been satisfied. It means nothing remains to be added.

Every time- we here of Christ in Heaven, there is only One time He is not mentioned being seated at the right hand of the Father. It was when Stephen— the first Christian Martyr died in the Book of Acts— When that happens— Christ is standing to greet His Faithful Servant.

And He does not merely secure access and step away. Hebrews says He always lives to make intercession for us (Hebrews 7:25). Our High Priest is alive. He is not replaced. He does not age out of office. He does not fail morally. He does not grow weary.

He represents us continually before the Father.

So when Hebrews tells us we have confidence to enter, it is not self-confidence. It is priestly confidence.

We approach because He stands. We are received because He intercedes. We endure because He remains.

Jesus is not just the sacrifice. He is the Priest who offers it, the Mediator who applies it, and the Advocate who sustains us.

That is why our access is secure.

Secondly.

2. Our Stability Is Rooted in a Shared Confession

Look, when Hebrews 10:23 says —“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful”—pay attention to the wording. The writer doesn't say “you hold fast,” like some solo spiritual superhero nonsense. He says let us hold fast. Plural. Collective. As in, stop pretending the Christian life is a lone-wolf endurance test.

Faith is deeply personal, sure, but it's not meant to be private. God doesn't cultivate His people in little isolated spiritual greenhouses. From Genesis onward, He's been building a people, not a bunch of rugged individualists who nod at each other once a week in a building with coffee. The church isn't a loose club of believers who share parking lot space; it's a covenant community where we drag each other across the finish line when one starts limping.

Scripture hands us three main tools God uses to shape and toughen us up: His Word, His Spirit, and—brace yourself—His people.

The Word lays out the raw truth: who God is, what Christ accomplished, how we're supposed to live out this life as Christ followers. You don’t know God’s Word and you’re flying blind—no gospel clarity, no sin diagnosis, no roadmap.

Charles Spurgeon once said: "The Word of God is the anvil upon which the opinions of men are smashed"

The Spirit takes that truth and hammers it into our stubborn heart: convicting when we're wrong, correcting the course, comforting when we're wrecked, strengthening when we're weak. He's the internal engine.

But then there's the third one—the one most of us treat like an optional add-on. Other believers.

God designed it so your brothers and sisters in Christ get to speak into your life: reminding you of forgotten truths, cheering you on when you're ready to quit, and yes, sometimes calling you out when you're drifting into stupid territory.

Most Christians are fine with the first two. We love quoting Scripture like we're experts, and we get all mystical about the Spirit's gentle whisper. But when it comes to actual humans having meaningful input—speaking bluntly into your choices, correcting you without sugarcoating, getting close enough to know your real struggles—suddenly everyone's all about “boundaries” and “personal space.” Newsflash: the Bible doesn't offer that luxury.

Proverbs 27:17 nails it: “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.” Notice it doesn't say “iron gently caresses iron in a spa-like environment.” There's friction. Pressure. Sparks. Metal only gets useful when something harder grinds against it. Same with us. Real growth often hurts a little.

And here's the thing: the deepest friendships aren't forged in comfort zones. They're hammered out in pressure—shared battles, shared obedience, shared suffering.

You see this dynamic in David and Jonathan. In 1 Samuel 23, David's on the run, Saul's hunting him like a dog, everything's falling apart. Jonathan doesn't send a polite text saying “thoughts and prayers.” He hikes out to Horesh, finds David in the wilderness, and strengthens his hand in God. Not sympathy. Not pity party. He points him straight back to the promise: “Do not fear, for the hand of Saul my father shall not find you. You shall be king over Israel.” That's biblical friendship—it doesn't just commiserate; it fortifies faith.

When Scripture talks about believer-to-believer relationships, a few non-negotiables keep showing up.

First, acceptance. Romans 15:7 puts it plainly: “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” Grace is the starting line. The church isn't a museum for perfect people; it's a hospital for the broken ones Christ already received. If He welcomed messy you, you don't get to play gatekeeper with others.

Second, affirmation. Real encouragement isn't fluffy platitudes—it's oxygen for the weary soul. The Christian life is difficult. We don’t come to Jesus because he makes life better, we come to Jesus because He is better than life.

Christ doesn’t offer health, wealth, and happiness when we come to Him. He offers Himself. We get to be in a relationship with a Holy God. And He is better than life.

But People grow weary. Westruggle. Words of encouragement strengthen people more than we often realize. Jeff Foxworthy says you know how to tell if someone needs encrouagement? Their breathing.

A brother who says, “I see your faithfulness, man—God sees it too, and it matters,” can steady someone who's about to collapse.

Third, accountability. This is where the iron meets iron and things get real. True friends love you enough to say, “Hey, this path you're on? It's dumb and dangerous.” Or “I'm seeing something in your life that's off, and I care too much to stay quiet.” That's not judgment; that's mercy.

You need some people in your life who know you well enough to call you out in love. People who would drag you to the feet of Jesus when we can’t get there ourselves. You need some mat carriers. I have 4-5 close friends, who I know, if I were to call in the middle of the night— they’d pick up and do whatever they could to help.

You need some people in your life like that. Men, particularly need other men like this. You cannot do life in isolation.

Galatians 6:1 spells it out: “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness.” Gentle, yes—but restore. Not ignore, not enable, not ghost. Care for the soul.

And finally, authority: None of this floats on personal Everything submits to the Word of God. Correction isn't about who's louder or more charismatic—it's anchored in Scripture, which towers over all of us.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer captured this well when he wrote,

“The Christ in his own heart is weaker than the Christ in the word of his brother.”

What he meant is that there will be moments when your own perspective is clouded. Your faith feels thin. Your courage weakens. And in those moments, God often strengthens you through another believer who reminds you of what is true.

That is exactly what Hebrews is addressing.

When the writer says “hold fast the confession of our hope,” he is talking about the gospel itself — the shared confession that Jesus Christ is Lord and that our hope is anchored in Him.

And there will be seasons when your grip weakens.

Moments where suffering clouds your confidence. Moments where temptation whispers that compromise would be easier. Moments where discouragement makes you wonder whether faithfulness is worth it.

In those moments, the church is not meant to stand back and watch.

We step in.

We remind one another of the truth. We point one another back to Christ. We help one another keep holding fast.

That is what it means to be community-rooted.

Not a room full of independent believers, but a people who understand that perseverance is something we pursue together.

This is why I am constantly encouraging you to take the next step of obedience.

Not because I am trying to keep people busy. Not because we need more activity on a calendar. But because Scripture is very clear that the Christian life is meant to be lived in relationship with other believers.

3. Our Growth Is Rooted in Intentional Commitment to One Another

Hebrews goes on to say in verse 25, “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”

Let’s be crystal clear: the Christian life is not a solo adventure scripted for spiritual lone wolves who think solitude equals superior sanctification. The writer of Hebrews doesn’t politely suggest community—he commands it with zero ambiguity. We are to consider—to thoughtfully scheme and strategize—how to stir up one another to love and good works. This isn’t casual encouragement; it’s deliberate, proactive ignition. You’re supposed to be the spark plug in someone else’s faith engine, not a disconnected battery sitting on a shelf.

And then the warning lands like a brick: do not neglect to meet together. Some were already treating the assembly like an optional side quest, making a habit of skipping out. Hebrews calls it foolish—and dangerous. You pull away from the body, your spiritual temperature drops fast. Coals glow red-hot in the fire; pull one out and watch it go gray and cold in minutes. Same with us. Isolation doesn’t make you deeper; it makes you dimmer.

This isn’t just New Testament theory—it’s God’s consistent design for His people. The early church modeled it perfectly: “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42). Notice they didn’t casually drop in when convenient—they devoted themselves. That word means they were all-in, locked-in, prioritizing the gathering as non-negotiable. Fellowship wasn’t an accessory; it was oxygen.

This is why I regularly encourage you to take the next step — whether that is joining a small group, building real relationships within the church, or stepping into covenant membership.

Those things are not administrative structures. They are simply practical ways we live out what Hebrews is describing.

Small groups create space where believers actually know one another, where the Word is discussed, questions are asked, and encouragement happens naturally.

Relationships within the body allow people to see when someone is struggling, when someone needs prayer, when someone needs to be reminded of the truth.

Covenant membership simply acknowledges what Scripture already assumes — that we are committed to walking with one another in obedience to Christ.

Because the church was never designed to be a room full of anonymous attendees. It is meant to be a family of faith where believers help one another persevere.

Do not negect to meet together.

Scripture keeps hammering the point home. Solomon, centuries earlier, laid it out plainly: “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10). You think you can self-rescue every time life knocks you flat? Good luck with that. The wise man says one person alone is a liability; two together become a lifeline.

Paul echoes the same urgency: “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing” (1 Thessalonians 5:11). Notice the grammar—plural, mutual, ongoing. This isn’t a one-way pep talk from the platform; it’s believers actively constructing each other’s faith, brick by brick, day after day.

Two clear practices emerge straight from the text:

You don’t coast through church services. You show up thinking, “How can I provoke this brother or sister to real love, real obedience, real fruit?” It’s intentional disruption of complacency—in the kindest, most Christlike way.Encouraging one another toward love and good works.

The command is blunt: don’t make a habit of neglecting it. Especially now, “as you see the Day drawing near.” The closer Christ’s return gets, the more we need each other—not less.Regularly gathering together as the church.

Here’s a little reality-check story. I knew a guy we’ll call “Captain Solo”—a die-hard fisherman who loved to brag that he didn’t need church because “it’s just me, Jesus, and the open water.” “I’d rather be sitting on a boat thinking about God, then sitting in a pew thinking about fishing.”

Every Sunday he’d motor out at first light, drop a line, open his Bible between casts, and post those golden-hour shots with captions like “True worship—no crowds, no noise, just me and the Lord.” Six months in, a storm hit—literal and metaphorical. Engine quit workiung, marriage started taking on water, work stress piled high. Suddenly Captain Solo was firing off desperate group texts at 1 a.m.: “Pray for me. Anyone free to talk?”

Turns out even the most independent fisherman needs a crew when the waves rise and the catch dries up. Shocking development.

Adrian Rogers cut straight to the chase: “If you have no desire to be with the saints down here, then you have little hope of being with the saints up there.”

That’s the bottom line. The church isn’t a weekly obligation you check off when it fits your schedule—it’s the God-ordained crew where believers stir each other up, lift each other when we fall, devote ourselves to teaching and fellowship, and build one another stronger for the long haul until Jesus returns.

So drop the lone-fisherman fantasy. Get back in the boat with the rest of us. You can’t be one foot in and one foot out. And its better in the boat the boat. Stir somebody. Let somebody stir you. Because going solo might feel noble for a season, but it’s a sure way to end up adrift, cold, and wondering why the fire went out—when all along the coals were right there waiting for you to rejoin them.

Hebrews 10 doesn’t leave us with a dramatic cliffhanger or a guilt trip. It leaves us with a clear, steady invitation: because of what Jesus has done—once for all—we can draw near, hold fast, and keep showing up for one another. Not because we’re perfect at it, but because God designed the Christian life to be lived shoulder to shoulder.

So drop the lone-fisherman fantasy. Get back in the boat with the rest of us. You can’t be one foot in and one foot out. And honestly, it’s better in the boat anyway. Stir somebody. Let somebody stir you. Because going solo might feel noble for a season, but it’s a sure way to end up adrift, cold, and wondering why the fire went out—when all along the coals were right there waiting for you to rejoin them.

And the good news is this: the passage doesn’t end with a scolding. The writer of Hebrews isn’t trying to shame anyone into participation. He’s reminding believers what is already true because of Christ.

If the Spirit has been speaking to you today—maybe about coming to Christ for the first time, or about stepping forward in baptism, or about making that commitment to this body through covenant membership, or simply about getting more connected so you’re not trying to run this race alone—don’t brush it aside. Those quiet nudges are usually the most important ones.

Here are a few simple next steps you can take.

First, if you have never surrendered your life to Jesus Christ, today can be the day that changes everything. The Bible says in Romans 10:9 (ESV), “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Notice what that verse does not say. It does not say you must clean yourself up first. It does not say you must get your life perfectly organized before coming to Christ. Salvation is not something we earn by moral effort; it is something we receive by faith. Jesus has already done the work. His life, His death, and His resurrection secured what you could never secure for yourself. Your step is simply to repent, to turn from your sin, and to trust Him as Lord and Savior. If that is the step in front of you today, don’t delay it. Eternity has a way of making today’s hesitations look very small.

Second, for some of you the next step is baptism. Baptism is not what saves you, but it is the first public act of obedience for someone who has trusted Christ. It is the way believers identify themselves with Jesus — with His death, His burial, and His resurrection. Paul writes in Romans 6:4 (ESV), “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Baptism is a declaration. It is standing before the church and saying, “My life belongs to Jesus now.” We are celebrating another baptism next Sunday, and if that is the step God has placed in front of you, we would love to help you take it.

Third, for some of you the step is covenant membership. Now let me say this plainly, because churches sometimes get nervous saying it plainly. Membership is not about putting your name on a roll so we can say our numbers look nice. Biblical membership is about making a clear commitment to walk together as a spiritual family. In Acts 2:42 (ESV) we read that the early believers “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” That word devoted implies commitment. It means these believers understood that following Christ included belonging to a local body of believers who would teach, encourage, correct, and care for one another. Covenant membership is simply saying, “This is the body I am committing to walk with, serve with, and grow with.” If that is the step God is stirring in your heart, we would be glad to talk with you about it.

But maybe the step in front of you is something more personal and specific. Maybe it is finally getting connected in a small group so that your faith is not lived at a distance from other believers. Maybe it is reaching out to someone in the church you have been distant from. Maybe it is stepping into a place of service where your gifts can actually build up the body. 1 Peter 4:10 (ESV) reminds us, “As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace.” God did not give spiritual gifts so they could sit unused. He gave them so the church could be strengthened.

Whatever the step is, take the step. Spiritual growth rarely happens through grand, dramatic moments. Most of the time it happens through simple acts of obedience — one step at a time, one decision at a time, choosing to trust God even when the step feels small.

In just a moment we are going to sing one more song together. And as the music plays, if you feel the Lord leading you to respond in some way, you are welcome to come to the front. There will be a few of us here — quietly, no spotlight, no pressure — who would be glad to pray with you, answer questions, or simply help you think through whatever step the Lord might be placing in front of you.

You don’t have to have everything figured out. None of us do. But sometimes the most important thing you can do is simply say yes to the next step of obedience.

Let’s not walk out of here the same way we walked in. Let’s allow God to work in these ordinary, faithful moments. Because the same God who called you is the God who promises to finish what He started.

Philippians 1:6 (ESV) says, “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”

He is faithful — even when we are still figuring it out.