Jess' Sermon

Introduction

Good morning. I’m Jessica the Executive Pastor here at Gateway. This morning I’m going to be continuing in our series Streams in the Desert. We’re in the middle of our Summer Series, Encounter 2026. We’re walking a parallel path with Pastor Tony as he’s on his sabbatical. Last month, we ventured into the Wilderness. We talked about how sometimes we’re led into the wilderness or we find ourselves in the wilderness and how God works there. How he uses the wilderness to show us what is true and real about ourselves as what we cling to gets stripped away. The wilderness demands that the layers are peeled back and our core becomes exposed.

Streams in the Desert is about how God then takes our true exposed self and pours his spirit into us. How we are renewed and reformed into his likeness. Today we’re going to be talking about something that I, unfortunately, have a lot of experience with- the idea that my value comes from what I produce.

In 2018, my family moved from here in Angola to Oklahoma. I had taken a job as a Marketing and Communications Director at a large christian school there. What started as an opportunity to serve eventually became a season marked by unhealthy leadership, unrealistic expectations, and constant pressure. Looking back, I can see that I was being taken advantage of. But if I'm honest, that's only part of the story. Eventually, after years of mental stress, my body started to keep score. I was living in a constant state of fight-or-flight. My mind never shut off. My emotions were exhausted. My marriage was rocky at best, my kids were struggling with school and their relationships. It was a time marked by constant turmoil and tension. I believe that if I just did better, if I just worked harder, that my boss would be nice. That I would be more effective, that I would be more productive. If I could just do more, achieve more, fix more, produce more, then maybe I would finally be enough.

It got to the point where I knew beyond a doubt that I had to be done. I wasn’t willing any longer to sacrifice my marriage, my kids, my friendship, and my well being to the machine of results. I resigned, and our family moved back to Indiana to join the staff at a church down closer to Indianapolis.

When I finally left that job, I thought I would feel relief. Instead, I shut down. I had lived with my foot on the gas for so long that I didn't know how to rest anymore. I had to admit that I was in total and complete burn out.

What surprised me most was what happened to my faith. I expected exhaustion. I didn't expect questions. I didn't expect doubt. I didn't expect to wonder where God was in all of it. But burnout has a way of making everything feel uncertain.The lie I had lived by, that my worth came from what I produced, had finally collapsed. And when it collapsed, I wasn't sure who I was anymore. The situation was definitely unhealthy. But what made this all so devastating is that it only magnified a lie I already believed- that if I produce enough, I’ll be enough.

Now I was faced with the question- what do I do now that I’m not producing? I have no way to prove my worth. My ability to produce had literally dried up. I believed that

I must produce something to be valuable.

Let’s start today in 1 Kings 17. We’re going to meet the prophet Elijah here and see what he experienced that looked similar to what I was experiencing.

Now Elijah, who was from Tishbe in Gilead, told King Ahab, “As surely as the Lord, the God of Israel, lives—the God I serve—there will be no dew or rain during the next few years until I give the word!”

2 Then the Lord said to Elijah, 3 “Go to the east and hide by Kerith Brook, near where it enters the Jordan River. 4 Drink from the brook and eat what the ravens bring you, for I have commanded them to bring you food.”

5 So Elijah did as the Lord told him and camped beside Kerith Brook, east of the Jordan. 6 The ravens brought him bread and meat each morning and evening, and he drank from the brook. 7 But after a while the brook dried up, for there was no rainfall anywhere in the land.

Elijah just had the ultimate God moment. He’s newer to his prophetic ministry and he walks up into the palace and confronts Ahab. He prays and declares that there will be no water, and immediately there wasn’t. Now, there weren't social channels and news stations for this kind of thing to go viral or be the top headline, but even still. Water drying up on command and for years is a big deal. Elijah just kind of became a big deal.

Can you imagine the adrenaline? The validation. The sense of purpose. He’s just getting fired up to start calling the Israelites back to God and what does God do? He sends him to the middle of nowhere and tells him to rest by a brook. Doesn’t it seem like he’s being effective and powerful in the name of God? His ministry is on a roll. Now isn’t the time to quit.

But what we see happening here is that God wasn’t interested in Elijah’s influence. He wasn’t interested in Elijah’s ministry. He was interested in Elijah. He cared more about forming him than using him. Instead of God saying “book a speaking tour”, “write a book”, “build your platform”, he says go and sit. Rest. Let me provide for you.

God leads him to a place where Elijah can not produce for himself. How do you nourish yourself by a brook when no water is flowing? He can't manufacture the brook. He can't command the ravens. He can only receive. That's a huge shift for someone who just called down a national drought.

God often removes us from performance before He restores us to purpose.

God didn't send Elijah to a strategy. He sent him to a stream. God uses this time to teach Elijah that “I am the God that can stop the water. But I am also the God that will sustain you.” Cherith had to become a place of dependence for Elijah, that life comes from outside of himself. At Cherith, God began dismantling Elijah's false self. He wanted Elijah to discover that he belonged to God before he accomplished anything for God.

Let’s look at Isaiah 1. Think of Isaiah as a divine whistleblower sent by God during a massive national crisis around 740 BC. God tells Isaiah to speak on his behalf to the nation of Judah as they face a brutal invasion by the Assyrians, a ruthless foreign superpower. Isaiah's job was to deliver a harsh reality check. This is how the book of Isaiah opens…

Listen, O heavens! Pay attention, earth!

This is what the Lord says:

“The children I raised and cared for

have rebelled against me.

3

Even an ox knows its owner,

and a donkey recognizes its master’s care—

but Israel doesn’t know its master.

My people don’t recognize my care for them.”

4

Oh, what a sinful nation they are—

loaded down with a burden of guilt.

They are evil people,

corrupt children who have rejected the Lord.

They have despised the Holy One of Israel

and turned their backs on him.

Man, based on this section of scripture, you’d really think they were horrible sinful people. But if you read on into the chapter, Isaiah explains what their transgressions were…

“What makes you think I want all your sacrifices?”

says the Lord.

“I am sick of your burnt offerings of rams

and the fat of fattened cattle.

I get no pleasure from the blood

of bulls and lambs and goats.

12

When you come to worship me,

who asked you to parade through my courts with all your ceremony?

13

Stop bringing me your meaningless gifts;

the incense of your offerings disgusts me!

As for your celebrations of the new moon and the Sabbath

and your special days for fasting—

they are all sinful and false.

I want no more of your pious meetings.

14

I hate your new moon celebrations and your annual festivals.

They are a burden to me. I cannot stand them!

What is actually happening is not horrible terrible evil things, it’s empty worship. It’s grand gestures with no heart. Their production had just become a ritual. They are doing all of the right things- sacrifices, festivals, worship. And yet God says “ I don’t want it”. Why? Because the relationship is gone. Just like we’re seeing here in what Isaiah is telling the Israelites…

God wants our hearts more than our output.

When you read this passage, and look at the Israelites, it’s important to realize that they aren’t doing these things by accident. Nobody accidentally offers sacrifices. Nobody accidently organizes a festival. No one accidentally shows up at a worship service. They were doing it all because they believed that it was accomplishing something. They began treating God like a transaction. “If I do this, God will bless me.” “If I perform, then God will be pleased.” “If I bring enough sacrifices, then everything will be okay.”

Before we judge the Israelites, we have to admit that we do that same thing. We do it here at church or in our spiritual life. But honestly, church isn’t where we do it mostly. We do it at work, in our marriages, as parents, with friends, on social media. We spend our lives trying to prove that we are enough. That we’re worthy of love. Because somewhere along the way we started to believe the lie that “If I produce enough, I’ll be enough.”

That’s exactly where I was. I wasn’t in burnout with that job because it was an unhealthy work environment. While that is true, the reality is that it just magnified the lie I believed. It gave me another avenue in which to live out that performance. My worth was tied to my output and my usefulness. That had been a true statement for me most of my adult life. That job was just where the cards stacked a little too high and everything came tumbling down. That job didn’t create the lie, it exposed it.

And just like what we see happen in Isaiah, the Israelites performances were empty. Their activity no longer worked. 1 Kings with Elijah at Cherith… the brook dried up. He was in the middle of nowhere. He had no way to perform to earn God’s love. He had no audience, no influence, no sustenance, just God. We’re the same. We can’t work ourselves into anything. We can’t prove we’re worthy of love. God stripped Elijah of any other source of identity so he could learn that God was enough.

What happens when the thing you’ve been using to tell you who you are suddenly disappears? Because that’s what happened to me. That’s what happens in burnout. But it also happens when you lose your job. It happens when your marriage ends. It happens when you retire. It happens when your kids leave home. It happens when your health fails.

What happens when the things you’ve been using to identify yourself are gone? For Elijah it was the influence, and then the brook. For Israel it was religious performance. For me it was productivity. And maybe for you it’s something else. But eventually that false source of life will run dry.

Bring in fake tree/fake fruit

This tree represents us. When we are living like Elijah and the Israelites and the way I was living in Oklahoma, we work to manufacture what we think people and God want from us. (start taping the fruit to the tree branches) This piece of fruit is love. This fruit is joy. This fruit is patience. This fruit is peace. This fruit is kindness. This piece is goodness, this piece gentleness, and so on and so on.

None of this is real! But we think we’re making it work. We think we’re doing it. If I just keep working and I just keep doing, if I just keep moving no one will notice that this fruit is all fake and I’m trying to make it stick as best as I can!

We tape on our sacrifices. We tape on our accomplishments. Promotions. Our wealth. Our poverty. Our clean houses. Our good kids. All the ministries we’re involved in. We keep putting on our fruit hoping it will make us loveable. But the fruit was never meant to be the source of life, it was meant to be the evidence of life.

The Bible has something very specific to say about this. In John 15, Jesus changes the picture. Instead of a stream...it's a vine.

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Anyone who does not remain in me is thrown away like a useless branch and withers. Such branches are gathered into a pile to be burned. 7 But if you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted! 8 When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father.

He says…I am the vine. REMAIN in me. He says “remain in me” three times in this section. As I was preparing for this I decided to look up the original Greek of the word “remain” that Jesus uses in this passage. I don’t know Greek so I’m not totally sure how this is pronounced but it’s meno. And the meaning is… to stay, dwell, continue, or to make one's home in something.

None of those words sound very active or performative. In fact, I picture a dog commanded to stay. They stop. Dwell - I picture rest. Continue and make one's home feels like I’m moving in to settle down. None of those feel like striving. In the NIV Bible translation, Jesus’s word here is abide.

The issue we have isn’t that we’re not abiding. It’s that we’re abiding in things that don’t give us life. We’re abiding in things that don’t bring us rest. We’re abiding in things that don’t give us peace. We’re not abiding in Him.

When you stop and look at your life, when you think about not striving… if you walked away, what do you fear falling apart? That might be what you’re truly abiding in.

Jesus says abide in me. Apart from me you can DO nothing. Those other things were never meant to sustain you. Those things were never designed to carry the weight of your identity. They cannot give you life. But I can! Now we see our real true self through our identity in Christ… I remain in Christ and fruit follows. We are accepted by Him and then bear fruit, not we bear fruit and that is acceptable then we’re brought in. Life always comes from staying connected to the source not producing the source.

So, I’ve been in the church for 39 years. I did a little math on that and here are the rough numbers… If I attended church every week for 39 years, I’ve heard roughly 2,028 sermons. Now, let's figure I’ve missed a few Sunday mornings in 39 years. Let’s say 1,750. But then, for 16 years I went to Sunday evening services- 832, so that’s 2582 , and then I went on most Wednesday evenings, another 832, that’s 3400. Then there were the summer camps, youth retreats, mission trips…200 additional sermons. That’s roughly 3600 sermons in my lifetime. In my almost 42 years, that’s 85.7 sermons a year. And one of the things that I still find myself asking is how. I hear all these sermons that are convicting and that make me want to do and be better… But I never feel like anyone helps me understand how.

So I want to talk about three ways that lead us to abide in Jesus. Let’s look to Psalm 23 for some guidance in this.

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have all that I need.

2

He lets me rest in green meadows;

he leads me beside peaceful streams.

3

He renews my strength.

He guides me along right paths,

bringing honor to his name.

4

Even when I walk

through the darkest valley,[a]

I will not be afraid,

for you are close beside me.

Your rod and your staff

protect and comfort me.

5

You prepare a feast for me

in the presence of my enemies.

You honor me by anointing my head with oil.

My cup overflows with blessings.

6

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me

all the days of my life,

and I will live in the house of the Lord

forever.

Do you know why Jesus calls us sheep? Because honestly, sheep are kind of dumb. They don’t make many smart independent decisions. They aren’t work animals that can carry a load. They don’t do exceptionally brave animal things. They don’t have a sense of direction to lead. They wander. Starting to sound kind of familiar, isn’t it?

The first step towards abiding in Jesus is realizing our need for a shepherd.

There is nothing in us that is alive. We do not generate our own spiritual wholeness. We are this tree. If I picked up this tree and buried the bottom part in the ground, does that make it living? Absolutely not.

This year we decided to plant a garden for the first time ever. In my well meaningness, I headed to Tractor Supply to buy all of our supplies and plants. I was so excited to find a raspberry bush to plant on 75% off. We love raspberries so this would be perfect. We got home and got all ready to plant the bush. I opened the box and what fell out…

A literal stick with a few scraggly roots. That’s all it was. I stuck that thing in the ground and we’ve been faithfully watering it. I’ve been told in a few years, we might have raspberries. But ya know what? That stick with no berries, no branches, no leaves is still more alive than this tree covered in fruit. Because I know that life and appearances are not the same thing.

I think that those of us who are used to performing for our love, see this stick and think.. If I was real no one would love me. If I was my plain ole, scraggly looking self. But you know what? God does! He sees you just like I see this bush. I know those roots are under the ground soaking up all that nourishment. I know that the cells inside of that stick are starting to move around the bounce off of each other. I know that some day, that stick will fulfill its purpose, because it’s buried in its lifesource. I know that there are people in this room that feel exactly like that stick.

If you choose to surrender your fake fruit and your fake tree, if you choose to admit that you’re a senseless sheep, you have a shepherd that loves you and will guide you to still waters. He will give you rest. He will give you all you need. The good news here is that you don’t just have to become a better smarter, work harder sheep. It’s that you have a shepherd. He finds the green pastures. He leads to still waters. He restores your soul. Sheep don’t go looking for a shepherd, the shepherd comes looking for the sheep.

Next, you need to know the Shepherd.

When Emerson was in preschool, they did a silhouette project. During an open house or concert, they had them hanging up for the parents to see. Here is that project…

It was objectively terrible. If a stranger saw this, they would have no idea who it was, but I knew it was her immediately. Not because it was a completely accurate depiction of her, but because I know her. I've watched her grow. I've listened to her laugh. I've heard her cry. I've walked beside her. I know the way she smiles. I know her posture. I know her voice. I can recognize her from across a crowded room. I can hear her footsteps coming down the hallway and know it's her before I ever see her.

Our relationship creates recognition.

Abiding isn’t knowing all the theology in the world. It’s not learning some secret spiritual formula or handshake. It’s about living so close to him that you begin to recognize him. Not because you have the clearest picture, but because you know his heart. If you’re like me and you hear the word abide, you instantly think… Okay, but what does that look like? I need bullet point instructions. We make it so mysterious.

Abiding just means living with an awareness that you're connected to Him. It's inviting Him into ordinary moments. It's learning to recognize His presence throughout your day. It can be twenty minutes with your Bible open or praying in the car instead of reaching for your phone. Sometimes it means sitting quietly. Stop talking and start listening.

Sometimes it's reading a Psalm slowly instead of trying to check off three chapters. It can be whispering, "Jesus, I don't know what to do, but I'm listening." Maybe it's obeying that quiet nudge to call someone. Sometimes it's just sitting in silence because you trust that you're not alone.

Abiding isn’t striving for approval. It’s not generating spiritual fruit. Abiding is learning to live WITH Jesus instead of merely working for him. Sheep don’t become sheep because they follow the shepherd. They follow the shepherd because they already belong to him.

But if you're abiding in Him, His silence doesn't mean He's not there. His hiddenness doesn't mean he’s abandoned you. It just means you keep walking because you've come to know your Shepherd. You recognize His heart. You trust His character. You know His voice. And even when you can't see where He's leading, you know the One who is leading you.

And lastly…

You need to follow the Shepherd.

If we go back to Psalm 23, we see that the Shepherd always initiates. He provides, he lets me rest, he leads, he guides, he protects, he comforts, he prepares, he pursues. The shepherd initiates but the sheep have to respond. He leads us to still waters, but we have to stop long enough to drink. He makes us lie down, but we have to trust Him enough to rest. He guides us down the right path, but we have to choose to follow.

The Shepherd never forces the sheep but He invites them. And that's what abiding looks like. It’s not striving to earn love FROM the shepherd, it’s responding TO the love of the shepherd.

Sometimes responding looks like obedience. God convicts you to forgive. You forgive. Not because you're earning His love but because you're living from His love.

Sometimes responding looks like renewing your mind. You've believed a lie for years. God begins replacing it with truth.

Sometimes responding looks like healing. Some of us have wounds that distort the way we hear the Shepherd's voice. Trauma teaches us to expect criticism where God is speaking with gentleness. Shame convinces us that every conviction is condemnation. Healing helps us hear His voice clearly. There is no shame in getting counseling. There’s no shame in taking medicine. There is no shame in addressing trauma. Healing is not a lack of faith.

Sometimes responding looks like choosing community. Sheep were never meant to wander alone.

Sometimes responding looks like removing the things that keep drowning out His voice. The constant noise.The constant hurry. The constant comparison.

When I came home from Oklahoma, I can see now that God wasn't asking me to produce anything, he was inviting me to healing. The closer to him I became, the more I chose to abide with him, I learned his heart. I learned his gentleness and patience. He wasn’t upset that I wasn’t producing. I learned that he wanted me to be healed. And that healing came through relationships. Through honest conversations about the fact that I probably needed some medicine. I needed to go to therapy. I needed to rest. And none of those things earned his love. None of those things were the patterns of striving that I was so used to. They were simply responses to the leading of my Shepherd.

We don’t abide with God by trying harder. We abide with him by responding more quickly. God says forgive, we say yes. God says rest, we say yes. God says follow, we say yes. The fruit doesn't grow because the branch is trying harder. It grows because the branch stays connected. The tree on the riverbank doesn’t grow by producing its own water, it just stretches towards the water. Every act of obedience is simply another way of remaining connected.

For years, I thought God wanted my fruit. What I discovered is that he wanted me. And when I finally stopped trying to prove my worth and simply remained with Him...the fruit began to grow again. We know how to work. We know how to strive. We know how to produce. We know how to hold everything together. But somewhere along the way…we forgot how to receive. That's why we're calling this series Streams in the Desert. Throughout Scripture, rivers are pictures of God's life-giving presence. They don't force life. They simply keep flowing. And everything that remains near them slowly begins to live again. That's renewal. That’s abiding. It's not something you manufacture. It's something you receive.

As the team comes back up, we’re going to close with the song Abide. This morning I’m inviting you to listen to the Shepherd's voice.

Maybe this morning, you're realizing you've been living like I was, just trying to earn what God has already given. Maybe your prayer today is "Jesus, I need a Shepherd. I've been trying to lead myself. I've been trying to prove myself. I've been trying to carry things I was never meant to carry.” Maybe today is just admitting that you need God to lead you.

Maybe you are following the shepherd, but you’ve spent a lot of time trying to manufacture fruit. You look and feel like this tree. You’re trying to find your identity in your job, your kids, or your ministry. Maybe your prayer today is “ Jesus, help me to abide in you again. Remind me that you are my source. Teach me to receive instead of perform.”

Maybe today you came in feeling like Elijah. The brook has dried up. You don't understand what God is doing. The future feels uncertain. You don't see much fruit. You don't even know what your prayer should be anymore.

Maybe today the Shepherd has already been speaking to you. Let today be the day you answer yes. “Whatever you're asking of me...yes. Wherever You're leading…yes. However you want to heal me… yes.” Can I encourage you?

Don't strive for words. Just sit with your Shepherd.

Let this song become your prayer. Because He isn't asking you to produce anything right now. He's simply inviting you to remain.