A) Centrality of Jesus
The gospel is the good news that God, in steadfast love and faithfulness, has not abandoned a world marked by sin, suffering, and estrangement (John 3:16–17; Romans 5:8). Instead, He has made a way to reconcile and renew all things through the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, ascension, and ongoing reign of His beloved Son, Jesus Christ (Colossians 1:15–20; Philippians 2:6–11).
This gospel is not just a set of ideas or truths to be believed; it is the living announcement that the crucified and risen Lord is making all things new (Revelation 21:5; 2 Corinthians 5:17–19). Jesus is not merely the centerpiece of Christian faith—He is the interpretive key to all of Scripture, the fulfillment of God’s covenantal promises, and the embodiment of what it means to be fully human (Matthew 5:17; Hebrews 1:1–3; Romans 5:12–21). As He Himself taught, all of the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings find their coherence in Him (Luke 24:27, 44–45).
He is the true Word (John 1:1–14), and the only faithful lens through which we can rightly see God (John 14:9), rightly understand ourselves (Colossians 3:3–4), and rightly engage the world (John 17:18; Matthew 28:18–20).
To confess Jesus as Lord is to center our lives around His way, His wisdom, His cross-shaped love (Luke 9:23–24; 1 Corinthians 1:18). It is to reorient every part of our existence—personal and communal, spiritual and material, private and public—toward His kingdom (Matthew 6:10, 33; Colossians 3:17). His life is the pattern (1 Peter 2:21), His teaching the truth (John 8:31–32), His Spirit the power (Acts 1:8; Romans 8:11), and His presence the promise (Matthew 28:20). Everything we hope for, everything we become, flows from abiding in Him (John 15:1–5).
This Christ-centered gospel is not merely an announcement of forgiveness, but a summons to transformation (Romans 12:1–2; Ephesians 4:20–24). It disrupts and dismantles the dominion of sin, not only in the soul, but in systems and structures (Colossians 2:15; Luke 4:18–19). It does not call us to escape the world, but to enter it with cruciform love, as agents of reconciliation and renewal (John 20:21; 2 Corinthians 5:18–20). It touches everything—our identities (Galatians 2:20), our desires (Romans 6:12–14), our economies (Luke 12:15–21), our politics (Philippians 3:20), our art (Exodus 35:30–35), our families (Ephesians 5:1–2, 21–33), our neighborhoods (Jeremiah 29:7), our imaginations (Romans 12:2).
He is central because He alone is faithful (Revelation 19:11). His kingdom cannot be shaken (Hebrews 12:28). All that is hidden will be brought into the light (Luke 8:17), and all that is rooted in Him will endure (1 Peter 1:3–5; 1 John 2:17). In a world obsessed with spectacle, power, and self-preservation, His way seems weak and foolish (1 Corinthians 1:25–29). Yet this is the mystery and power of the gospel: what appears fragile is indestructible; what the world discards, He redeems (Isaiah 53:2–5; Acts 4:11). The cross, once a symbol of shame, is now the shape of hope (Hebrews 12:2; Galatians 6:14).
To live with Jesus at the center is to live in hope, even when the world is trembling (Romans 5:1–5). It is to listen for His voice in the silence (John 10:27), to see His hand in the broken places (Psalm 34:18; Matthew 5:3–10), and to believe that even now, He is holding all things together—and leading us forward into the light of the new creation (Colossians 1:17; Revelation 22:1–5).
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The gospel is the good news that God, in steadfast love and faithfulness, has not abandoned a world marked by sin, suffering, and estrangement (John 3:16–17; Romans 5:8). Instead, He has made a way to reconcile and renew all things through the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, ascension, and ongoing reign of His beloved Son, Jesus Christ (Colossians 1:15–20; Philippians 2:6–11).
This gospel is not just a set of ideas or truths to be believed; it is the living announcement that the crucified and risen Lord is making all things new (Revelation 21:5; 2 Corinthians 5:17–19). Jesus is not merely the centerpiece of Christian faith—He is the interpretive key to all of Scripture, the fulfillment of God’s covenantal promises, and the embodiment of what it means to be fully human (Matthew 5:17; Hebrews 1:1–3; Romans 5:12–21). As He Himself taught, all of the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings find their coherence in Him (Luke 24:27, 44–45).
He is the true Word (John 1:1–14), and the only faithful lens through which we can rightly see God (John 14:9), rightly understand ourselves (Colossians 3:3–4), and rightly engage the world (John 17:18; Matthew 28:18–20).
To confess Jesus as Lord is to center our lives around His way, His wisdom, His cross-shaped love (Luke 9:23–24; 1 Corinthians 1:18). It is to reorient every part of our existence—personal and communal, spiritual and material, private and public—toward His kingdom (Matthew 6:10, 33; Colossians 3:17). His life is the pattern (1 Peter 2:21), His teaching the truth (John 8:31–32), His Spirit the power (Acts 1:8; Romans 8:11), and His presence the promise (Matthew 28:20). Everything we hope for, everything we become, flows from abiding in Him (John 15:1–5).
This Christ-centered gospel is not merely an announcement of forgiveness, but a summons to transformation (Romans 12:1–2; Ephesians 4:20–24). It disrupts and dismantles the dominion of sin, not only in the soul, but in systems and structures (Colossians 2:15; Luke 4:18–19). It does not call us to escape the world, but to enter it with cruciform love, as agents of reconciliation and renewal (John 20:21; 2 Corinthians 5:18–20). It touches everything—our identities (Galatians 2:20), our desires (Romans 6:12–14), our economies (Luke 12:15–21), our politics (Philippians 3:20), our art (Exodus 35:30–35), our families (Ephesians 5:1–2, 21–33), our neighborhoods (Jeremiah 29:7), our imaginations (Romans 12:2).
He is central because He alone is faithful (Revelation 19:11). His kingdom cannot be shaken (Hebrews 12:28). All that is hidden will be brought into the light (Luke 8:17), and all that is rooted in Him will endure (1 Peter 1:3–5; 1 John 2:17). In a world obsessed with spectacle, power, and self-preservation, His way seems weak and foolish (1 Corinthians 1:25–29). Yet this is the mystery and power of the gospel: what appears fragile is indestructible; what the world discards, He redeems (Isaiah 53:2–5; Acts 4:11). The cross, once a symbol of shame, is now the shape of hope (Hebrews 12:2; Galatians 6:14).
To live with Jesus at the center is to live in hope, even when the world is trembling (Romans 5:1–5). It is to listen for His voice in the silence (John 10:27), to see His hand in the broken places (Psalm 34:18; Matthew 5:3–10), and to believe that even now, He is holding all things together—and leading us forward into the light of the new creation (Colossians 1:17; Revelation 22:1–5).
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B) Transformed Lives
The gospel is not merely the entrance to the Christian life—it is the path, the nourishment, the horizon, and the air we breathe. It is both the diving board and the pool in which we swim as the people of God. Far from being a message only for the unbelieving world, the gospel remains the primary way believers grow in Christlikeness, day by day, breath by breath (Colossians 2:6–7; Romans 1:16–17).
At Eternal, we hold fast to the truth that transformation is not a separate project from salvation—it is its outworking. We grow by going deeper into the grace that first saved us (Titus 2:11–12). In a culture that often reduces spiritual growth to behavior modification or religious performance, we affirm that the Christian life is formed through continual encounter with Jesus and His good news. Believing, rejoicing, remembering, understanding, and practicing the gospel is not remedial—it is the core curriculum for every disciple (2 Peter 1:3–9).
Every sin that distances us from God is rooted in a misdirected hope—a trust placed in something other than Jesus to give us identity, purpose, or peace (Jeremiah 2:13; Romans 1:25). These functional saviors may not be carved from wood or stone, but they are no less idols of the heart. Mere discipline, routines, or church involvement—even good things—cannot uproot them. Only the gospel, through the power of the Spirit, can displace the lies with truth and liberate the heart (John 8:36; Galatians 5:1).
This inner renewal begins with a once-for-all act of grace (Ephesians 2:8–9), but it unfolds as a lifelong pattern of repentance and trust (Romans 12:1–2; 2 Corinthians 3:18). We are not called to bootstrap our way to godliness, but to surrender, daily and deeply, to the transforming love of Jesus. This transformation is not cosmetic or compartmentalized—it penetrates our wounds, reshapes our desires, and trains us to live in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–25).
The Christian life, then, is not about earning anything from God, but learning to live in the fullness of what we have received in Jesus. Grace is not only pardon—it is power. It enables us to confront our sin without fear, knowing we are already beloved; and to walk in obedience, not to earn God's favor, but because we already have it (Philippians 2:12–13; Romans 6:11–14).
At Eternal, this gospel-centered transformation is the foundation of all we do—in preaching, elder and pastoral care, counseling, and formation. We seek to bring the gospel to bear on life as it actually is, not as we pretend it to be. This means making space for struggle, for slowness, for failure, and for grace to do its mysterious work. It means speaking honestly about our need, and boldly about the sufficiency of Christ (2 Corinthians 12:9–10).
We do not enter the kingdom to get to work earning our place. We are called to co-labor with the Spirit in the application of the gospel to the hidden, hurting places of our lives (Philippians 1:6; Hebrews 10:14). This is how transformation happens—not from the outside in, but from the inside out. Transformation doesn't come through pressure or fear, but through the presence and love of Christ. (1 John 4:18–19).
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The gospel is not merely the entrance to the Christian life—it is the path, the nourishment, the horizon, and the air we breathe. It is both the diving board and the pool in which we swim as the people of God. Far from being a message only for the unbelieving world, the gospel remains the primary way believers grow in Christlikeness, day by day, breath by breath (Colossians 2:6–7; Romans 1:16–17).
At Eternal, we hold fast to the truth that transformation is not a separate project from salvation—it is its outworking. We grow by going deeper into the grace that first saved us (Titus 2:11–12). In a culture that often reduces spiritual growth to behavior modification or religious performance, we affirm that the Christian life is formed through continual encounter with Jesus and His good news. Believing, rejoicing, remembering, understanding, and practicing the gospel is not remedial—it is the core curriculum for every disciple (2 Peter 1:3–9).
Every sin that distances us from God is rooted in a misdirected hope—a trust placed in something other than Jesus to give us identity, purpose, or peace (Jeremiah 2:13; Romans 1:25). These functional saviors may not be carved from wood or stone, but they are no less idols of the heart. Mere discipline, routines, or church involvement—even good things—cannot uproot them. Only the gospel, through the power of the Spirit, can displace the lies with truth and liberate the heart (John 8:36; Galatians 5:1).
This inner renewal begins with a once-for-all act of grace (Ephesians 2:8–9), but it unfolds as a lifelong pattern of repentance and trust (Romans 12:1–2; 2 Corinthians 3:18). We are not called to bootstrap our way to godliness, but to surrender, daily and deeply, to the transforming love of Jesus. This transformation is not cosmetic or compartmentalized—it penetrates our wounds, reshapes our desires, and trains us to live in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–25).
The Christian life, then, is not about earning anything from God, but learning to live in the fullness of what we have received in Jesus. Grace is not only pardon—it is power. It enables us to confront our sin without fear, knowing we are already beloved; and to walk in obedience, not to earn God's favor, but because we already have it (Philippians 2:12–13; Romans 6:11–14).
At Eternal, this gospel-centered transformation is the foundation of all we do—in preaching, elder and pastoral care, counseling, and formation. We seek to bring the gospel to bear on life as it actually is, not as we pretend it to be. This means making space for struggle, for slowness, for failure, and for grace to do its mysterious work. It means speaking honestly about our need, and boldly about the sufficiency of Christ (2 Corinthians 12:9–10).
We do not enter the kingdom to get to work earning our place. We are called to co-labor with the Spirit in the application of the gospel to the hidden, hurting places of our lives (Philippians 1:6; Hebrews 10:14). This is how transformation happens—not from the outside in, but from the inside out. Transformation doesn't come through pressure or fear, but through the presence and love of Christ. (1 John 4:18–19).
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C) Covenant Community
The gospel doesn’t just reconcile us to God—it binds us to one another in love. It re-forms our hearts, re-orders our desires, and reshapes our identity in such a way that we are freed to live in deep, honest, enduring relationships. In Jesus, we are not simply individuals who happen to believe the same things—we are members of one another, joined together as a new creation community (Romans 12:4–5; 2 Corinthians 5:17–18).
The gospel births a people—not just persons—and it forms a community that is intentionally countercultural. In an age shaped by radical individualism and consumerism, where relationships are often transactional and commitment is provisional, the church is called to embody a different way of life: one of self-giving love, mutual responsibility, and covenantal belonging (Philippians 2:1–4; Acts 2:42–47).
Western values are not inherently evil—but when autonomy and self-fulfillment take precedence over faithfulness to the kingdom of God, they become idols. They insulate us from vulnerability, inhibit sacrificial love, and resist the call of the cross. But Jesus calls us not to guard our lives, but to pour them out—as He did (Luke 9:23–24; Philippians 2:5–8). To follow Him is to live in the pattern of the gospel: giving, serving, dying, and rising again in community.
In this light, we enter into covenants—not because they are convenient or easy, but because they are faithful and right. God’s covenant with us through Jesus was not abstract or theoretical—it was embodied, costly, sealed in blood (Luke 22:20; Hebrews 9:15). Whether in marriage, singleness, friendship, or the life of the church, we are called into covenant relationships that reflect God's faithful love. We say with our lives: He has bound Himself to us, and so we bind ourselves to one another (1 John 4:11–12).
This family includes people in every life stage and season, married and single, young and old, each contributing uniquely to the body of Christ. Like Jesus and Paul, those who live single lives are full participants in God's mission and reflect His kingdom in meaningful ways. Singleness is not a waiting room or a detour, but a calling that can beautifully embody devotion, hospitality, friendship, and service for the sake of the gospel.
These covenant relationships are the workshop of spiritual maturity. They are where we learn humility and boldness, truth and grace, confession and forgiveness (Colossians 3:12–14; James 5:16). Here, we submit to authority with trust—so long as it reflects God’s heart—and those in authority lead as servants, with reverence and love (Ephesians 5:21; Matthew 20:25–28). In the church, we practice reconciliation not as a last resort, but as a defining mark of our shared life (2 Corinthians 5:18–20; Matthew 18:15–17).
In covenant community, the gospel is not only preached—it is practiced. It takes on flesh. We bear with one another in love, striving for unity not by enforcing uniformity, but by honoring a diversity of nonessential beliefs, personalities, gifts, and perspectives (Ephesians 4:1–6; Romans 14:1–4). We are not united because we are the same, but because we belong to the same Lord and are held together by His Spirit.
Jesus’ work of salvation was not given so that we might have isolated spiritual experiences or private fulfillment. He came to create a people who would reflect His love to the world (Titus 2:14; 1 Peter 2:9–10). “By this all people will know that you are my disciples,” Jesus said, “if you have love for one another” (John 13:34–35). Our covenant love is our witness. Our faithfulness to one another is the visible sign of His faithfulness to us.
Therefore, we commit to walk together in gospel-formed community—not as consumers of spiritual goods, but as brothers and sisters in Christ. We commit not only to belong, but to love; not only to attend, but to invest; not only to receive, but to give. In this, we trust that the world will see something not only different—but divine.
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The gospel doesn’t just reconcile us to God—it binds us to one another in love. It re-forms our hearts, re-orders our desires, and reshapes our identity in such a way that we are freed to live in deep, honest, enduring relationships. In Jesus, we are not simply individuals who happen to believe the same things—we are members of one another, joined together as a new creation community (Romans 12:4–5; 2 Corinthians 5:17–18).
The gospel births a people—not just persons—and it forms a community that is intentionally countercultural. In an age shaped by radical individualism and consumerism, where relationships are often transactional and commitment is provisional, the church is called to embody a different way of life: one of self-giving love, mutual responsibility, and covenantal belonging (Philippians 2:1–4; Acts 2:42–47).
Western values are not inherently evil—but when autonomy and self-fulfillment take precedence over faithfulness to the kingdom of God, they become idols. They insulate us from vulnerability, inhibit sacrificial love, and resist the call of the cross. But Jesus calls us not to guard our lives, but to pour them out—as He did (Luke 9:23–24; Philippians 2:5–8). To follow Him is to live in the pattern of the gospel: giving, serving, dying, and rising again in community.
In this light, we enter into covenants—not because they are convenient or easy, but because they are faithful and right. God’s covenant with us through Jesus was not abstract or theoretical—it was embodied, costly, sealed in blood (Luke 22:20; Hebrews 9:15). Whether in marriage, singleness, friendship, or the life of the church, we are called into covenant relationships that reflect God's faithful love. We say with our lives: He has bound Himself to us, and so we bind ourselves to one another (1 John 4:11–12).
This family includes people in every life stage and season, married and single, young and old, each contributing uniquely to the body of Christ. Like Jesus and Paul, those who live single lives are full participants in God's mission and reflect His kingdom in meaningful ways. Singleness is not a waiting room or a detour, but a calling that can beautifully embody devotion, hospitality, friendship, and service for the sake of the gospel.
These covenant relationships are the workshop of spiritual maturity. They are where we learn humility and boldness, truth and grace, confession and forgiveness (Colossians 3:12–14; James 5:16). Here, we submit to authority with trust—so long as it reflects God’s heart—and those in authority lead as servants, with reverence and love (Ephesians 5:21; Matthew 20:25–28). In the church, we practice reconciliation not as a last resort, but as a defining mark of our shared life (2 Corinthians 5:18–20; Matthew 18:15–17).
In covenant community, the gospel is not only preached—it is practiced. It takes on flesh. We bear with one another in love, striving for unity not by enforcing uniformity, but by honoring a diversity of nonessential beliefs, personalities, gifts, and perspectives (Ephesians 4:1–6; Romans 14:1–4). We are not united because we are the same, but because we belong to the same Lord and are held together by His Spirit.
Jesus’ work of salvation was not given so that we might have isolated spiritual experiences or private fulfillment. He came to create a people who would reflect His love to the world (Titus 2:14; 1 Peter 2:9–10). “By this all people will know that you are my disciples,” Jesus said, “if you have love for one another” (John 13:34–35). Our covenant love is our witness. Our faithfulness to one another is the visible sign of His faithfulness to us.
Therefore, we commit to walk together in gospel-formed community—not as consumers of spiritual goods, but as brothers and sisters in Christ. We commit not only to belong, but to love; not only to attend, but to invest; not only to receive, but to give. In this, we trust that the world will see something not only different—but divine.
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D) Biblical Prayer
Prayer is not simply a spiritual discipline—it is the lifeblood of our relationship with God. It is the first language of the kingdom, the posture of the heart that confesses both our need and God’s nearness. At Eternal, we believe that a faithful church is a praying church—not occasionally, but consistently; not formally alone, but fervently, corporately, and privately. As in the early church, we long to be a people of whom it can truly be said: they devoted themselves to prayer (Acts 2:42).
In prayer, we draw near to the One who has already drawn near to us (James 4:8). We adore Him for His majesty and mercy (Psalm 145:1–3), we confess our sin and receive His forgiveness (1 John 1:9), we give thanks for His provision and presence (Philippians 4:6), and we intercede on behalf of others (1 Timothy 2:1). We pray to be brought more fully into His will—to seek His kingdom, His agenda, His initiatives above our own (Matthew 6:9–10).
Prayer is how we learn to walk not by sight, but by faith (2 Corinthians 5:7). It is how we remember that our work is ultimately not ours at all—it is God's. Every sermon preached, every decision made, every conflict navigated, every act of care or counsel must be undergirded in prayer, or it will amount to nothing more than human effort dressed in religious clothing (John 15:5; Psalm 127:1–2).
When we pray for what only God can do, we position ourselves to witness what only God can accomplish. We begin to expect answers that bear the fingerprints of heaven—outcomes that cannot be traced back to our strategies, strengths, or systems, but only to the Spirit of God (Ephesians 3:20–21). These answers don’t always look like what we imagined, but they always bring God glory and deepen our dependence.
To be prayerful is to be vulnerable—to admit we do not have what it takes. But it is also to be confident—to believe that God loves to give wisdom to those who ask (James 1:5), strength to those who wait (Isaiah 40:31), and peace to those who trust (Isaiah 26:3; Philippians 4:7). It is to live with open hands and a quiet heart, even in the midst of chaos, because we know our Father sees, hears, and is already at work (Matthew 6:6–8).
We see prayer as the atmosphere in which the life of the church breathes. We pray for our enemies and our elders, for healing and for holiness, for clarity and for courage (Romans 12:12; Colossians 4:2). We pray when we know what to say, and we pray when all we can do is groan (Romans 8:26–27).
At Eternal, we strive to remain rooted in prayer so that we do not lose our way. In a noisy world full of self-reliance and speed, we choose the quiet place again and again, trusting that what is born in prayer will be sustained by the Spirit and bear fruit that lasts (John 15:16).
Let it be said of us, as it was of those first followers: They devoted themselves to prayer.
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Prayer is not simply a spiritual discipline—it is the lifeblood of our relationship with God. It is the first language of the kingdom, the posture of the heart that confesses both our need and God’s nearness. At Eternal, we believe that a faithful church is a praying church—not occasionally, but consistently; not formally alone, but fervently, corporately, and privately. As in the early church, we long to be a people of whom it can truly be said: they devoted themselves to prayer (Acts 2:42).
In prayer, we draw near to the One who has already drawn near to us (James 4:8). We adore Him for His majesty and mercy (Psalm 145:1–3), we confess our sin and receive His forgiveness (1 John 1:9), we give thanks for His provision and presence (Philippians 4:6), and we intercede on behalf of others (1 Timothy 2:1). We pray to be brought more fully into His will—to seek His kingdom, His agenda, His initiatives above our own (Matthew 6:9–10).
Prayer is how we learn to walk not by sight, but by faith (2 Corinthians 5:7). It is how we remember that our work is ultimately not ours at all—it is God's. Every sermon preached, every decision made, every conflict navigated, every act of care or counsel must be undergirded in prayer, or it will amount to nothing more than human effort dressed in religious clothing (John 15:5; Psalm 127:1–2).
When we pray for what only God can do, we position ourselves to witness what only God can accomplish. We begin to expect answers that bear the fingerprints of heaven—outcomes that cannot be traced back to our strategies, strengths, or systems, but only to the Spirit of God (Ephesians 3:20–21). These answers don’t always look like what we imagined, but they always bring God glory and deepen our dependence.
To be prayerful is to be vulnerable—to admit we do not have what it takes. But it is also to be confident—to believe that God loves to give wisdom to those who ask (James 1:5), strength to those who wait (Isaiah 40:31), and peace to those who trust (Isaiah 26:3; Philippians 4:7). It is to live with open hands and a quiet heart, even in the midst of chaos, because we know our Father sees, hears, and is already at work (Matthew 6:6–8).
We see prayer as the atmosphere in which the life of the church breathes. We pray for our enemies and our elders, for healing and for holiness, for clarity and for courage (Romans 12:12; Colossians 4:2). We pray when we know what to say, and we pray when all we can do is groan (Romans 8:26–27).
At Eternal, we strive to remain rooted in prayer so that we do not lose our way. In a noisy world full of self-reliance and speed, we choose the quiet place again and again, trusting that what is born in prayer will be sustained by the Spirit and bear fruit that lasts (John 15:16).
Let it be said of us, as it was of those first followers: They devoted themselves to prayer.
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E) Preeminent Worship
Worship reflects the heartbeat of heaven, and for the people of God, it must also be the heartbeat of the church.
In worship, we draw near to the throne of grace—not merely symbolically, but spiritually and truly. We join a song that has been resounding since before time began, echoing the eternal praise that surrounds the triune God: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” (Revelation 4:8). When we worship, we are never more aligned with the deep structure of reality, for we are joining the rhythm of heaven.
Worship is not a preference or a stylistic expression—it is the fitting and necessary response of all creation to the sheer glory and goodness of its Creator. We worship because God is infinitely worthy. His beauty captivates, His holiness humbles, and His faithfulness compels (Psalm 96:7–9; Romans 11:33–36). But even more than that, we worship because in worship, we are made more fully human. We become what we were created to be: those who reflect His glory, receive His love, and return it in joyful surrender (Isaiah 43:21; 1 Peter 2:9).
At Eternal, worship is not an event we attend but a life we live. Yet within that life, corporate worship holds a central place. We gather not to be entertained or distracted from the world, but to be rooted in the presence of God and reoriented toward His kingdom. We gather to sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, to pray and fast, to confess our sins and proclaim our forgiveness, to hear the Word and be shaped by it, to commune at the Lord’s Table, and to be sent out in mission and mercy (Colossians 3:14–17; Acts 2:42–47).
This rhythm of gathering and scattering is not peripheral—it is the engine of renewal. In worship, we are transformed. As we behold the glory of the Lord, we are changed from one degree of glory to another (2 Corinthians 3:18). We bring our whole selves—our joy and our sorrow, our celebration and our lament—into the presence of the living God, and there we are formed into a people who can bear His image in the world.
Worship, then, is both upward and outward. We lift our hearts to heaven, and we lift our eyes to the world. Our worship proclaims to every nation and people that the Lord reigns, that He is good, and that His mercy endures forever (Psalm 100:1–5; Revelation 7:9–12). Our gathered worship becomes a witness: that there is another way, another King, another kingdom. A church that worships with reverence and delight becomes a prophetic sign to the world—a taste of the age to come breaking into the present.
At Eternal, we refuse to shape our worship around the preferences of a dying culture. We believe that worship must first and foremost glorify God and edify His people. It must be saturated with Scripture, centered on Jesus, empowered by the Spirit, and directed toward the Father. Our songs teach; our prayers shape; our sacraments nourish; our preaching convicts and comforts. Every element is intentional, not as a performance for the audience, but as a participation in the divine life to which we’ve been graciously invited (John 4:23–24; Hebrews 12:28–29).
Worship is not a means to an end. It is the end for which we were made. And when we worship rightly, we are renewed in hope, rooted in truth, and reminded of our eternal destiny—to worship forever the One who is worthy.
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Worship reflects the heartbeat of heaven, and for the people of God, it must also be the heartbeat of the church.
In worship, we draw near to the throne of grace—not merely symbolically, but spiritually and truly. We join a song that has been resounding since before time began, echoing the eternal praise that surrounds the triune God: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” (Revelation 4:8). When we worship, we are never more aligned with the deep structure of reality, for we are joining the rhythm of heaven.
Worship is not a preference or a stylistic expression—it is the fitting and necessary response of all creation to the sheer glory and goodness of its Creator. We worship because God is infinitely worthy. His beauty captivates, His holiness humbles, and His faithfulness compels (Psalm 96:7–9; Romans 11:33–36). But even more than that, we worship because in worship, we are made more fully human. We become what we were created to be: those who reflect His glory, receive His love, and return it in joyful surrender (Isaiah 43:21; 1 Peter 2:9).
At Eternal, worship is not an event we attend but a life we live. Yet within that life, corporate worship holds a central place. We gather not to be entertained or distracted from the world, but to be rooted in the presence of God and reoriented toward His kingdom. We gather to sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, to pray and fast, to confess our sins and proclaim our forgiveness, to hear the Word and be shaped by it, to commune at the Lord’s Table, and to be sent out in mission and mercy (Colossians 3:14–17; Acts 2:42–47).
This rhythm of gathering and scattering is not peripheral—it is the engine of renewal. In worship, we are transformed. As we behold the glory of the Lord, we are changed from one degree of glory to another (2 Corinthians 3:18). We bring our whole selves—our joy and our sorrow, our celebration and our lament—into the presence of the living God, and there we are formed into a people who can bear His image in the world.
Worship, then, is both upward and outward. We lift our hearts to heaven, and we lift our eyes to the world. Our worship proclaims to every nation and people that the Lord reigns, that He is good, and that His mercy endures forever (Psalm 100:1–5; Revelation 7:9–12). Our gathered worship becomes a witness: that there is another way, another King, another kingdom. A church that worships with reverence and delight becomes a prophetic sign to the world—a taste of the age to come breaking into the present.
At Eternal, we refuse to shape our worship around the preferences of a dying culture. We believe that worship must first and foremost glorify God and edify His people. It must be saturated with Scripture, centered on Jesus, empowered by the Spirit, and directed toward the Father. Our songs teach; our prayers shape; our sacraments nourish; our preaching convicts and comforts. Every element is intentional, not as a performance for the audience, but as a participation in the divine life to which we’ve been graciously invited (John 4:23–24; Hebrews 12:28–29).
Worship is not a means to an end. It is the end for which we were made. And when we worship rightly, we are renewed in hope, rooted in truth, and reminded of our eternal destiny—to worship forever the One who is worthy.
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F) Cultural Renewal and Discord
Jesus has not called His people to retreat from the world, nor to blend in indistinguishably with it. Rather, He names us salt and light (Matthew 5:13–16)—agents of preservation, flavor, visibility, and hope. The gospel does not only transform our inner lives; it equips us to live publicly and purposefully in a world that is both beautiful and broken. In Jesus, we become a people who participate in God’s grand mission of renewal—the restoration of all creation under the reign of King Jesus (Romans 8:18–23).
We believe that vocation—our daily work and callings in the world—is sacred. There is no divide between the spiritual and the secular, for “whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men… you are serving the Lord Christ” (Colossians 3:23–24). Whether in business, at play, the arts, education, medicine, homemaking, or civic leadership, every arena of life can become a place of worship and witness. We labor not merely for provision, but to reflect the creativity, justice, and beauty of the One in whose image we were made.
To live faithfully in this cultural moment requires both discernment and hope. We are called to seek the welfare of the places where we live (Jeremiah 29:7), to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). We affirm and celebrate the good wherever it is found, for all truth is God’s truth. Yet we also resist the distortions and idolatries that seek to twist what is good into what is harmful. This resistance is not fueled by fear or anger, but by holy love—love that tells the truth, even when it costs us.
We expect, and even embrace, the tension of this witness. The gospel brings both renewal and resistance. We will sometimes be praised and other times persecuted. But our posture remains the same: humble courage, grounded in the Word, empowered by the Spirit, and modeled after our crucified and risen Lord.
This is what it means to be a faithful presence in the world: to inhabit our culture with the integrity of heaven, to speak with both boldness and gentleness (1 Peter 3:15–16), and to embody a hope that does not disappoint. We are not here to escape the world, but to love it toward redemption—not by our own strength, but by the presence of Jesus alive within us.
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Jesus has not called His people to retreat from the world, nor to blend in indistinguishably with it. Rather, He names us salt and light (Matthew 5:13–16)—agents of preservation, flavor, visibility, and hope. The gospel does not only transform our inner lives; it equips us to live publicly and purposefully in a world that is both beautiful and broken. In Jesus, we become a people who participate in God’s grand mission of renewal—the restoration of all creation under the reign of King Jesus (Romans 8:18–23).
We believe that vocation—our daily work and callings in the world—is sacred. There is no divide between the spiritual and the secular, for “whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men… you are serving the Lord Christ” (Colossians 3:23–24). Whether in business, at play, the arts, education, medicine, homemaking, or civic leadership, every arena of life can become a place of worship and witness. We labor not merely for provision, but to reflect the creativity, justice, and beauty of the One in whose image we were made.
To live faithfully in this cultural moment requires both discernment and hope. We are called to seek the welfare of the places where we live (Jeremiah 29:7), to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). We affirm and celebrate the good wherever it is found, for all truth is God’s truth. Yet we also resist the distortions and idolatries that seek to twist what is good into what is harmful. This resistance is not fueled by fear or anger, but by holy love—love that tells the truth, even when it costs us.
We expect, and even embrace, the tension of this witness. The gospel brings both renewal and resistance. We will sometimes be praised and other times persecuted. But our posture remains the same: humble courage, grounded in the Word, empowered by the Spirit, and modeled after our crucified and risen Lord.
This is what it means to be a faithful presence in the world: to inhabit our culture with the integrity of heaven, to speak with both boldness and gentleness (1 Peter 3:15–16), and to embody a hope that does not disappoint. We are not here to escape the world, but to love it toward redemption—not by our own strength, but by the presence of Jesus alive within us.
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G) Mission Focus
The Bible is not merely a guide for personal morality or religious insight—it is the sweeping, Spirit-breathed record of God's unfolding mission to redeem, reconcile, and renew all things through Jesus. From Genesis to Revelation, we see not a distant deity, but a missional God—a Father who seeks, a on who saves, and a Spirit who sends. To become a follower of Jesus, then, is not only to be rescued by His grace but to be swept up into His purpose.
Being part of God’s family means being part of God’s work.
At Eternal, we believe the world is not a place to escape, but a field to cultivate. It is not a sinking ship to abandon, but a beloved creation to steward and serve until the day all things are made new (Romans 8:18–23; Revelation 21:1–5). We do not wait for heaven in fear or apathy—we live as citizens of heaven now, bringing its values, hope, and healing into our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our city, and to the ends of the earth (Matthew 5:14–16; Philippians 3:20).
The local church is not peripheral to God's plan—it is God’s plan (Ephesians 3:10–11). The church is not a passive recipient of grace, but the living, breathing body of Christ, commissioned to make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:18–20). We are ambassadors of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:17–20), carriers of the kingdom, and heralds of good news for the poor, the broken, and the bound (Luke 4:18–19). This is not the calling of a few; it is the calling of all.
Mission is not something others do ”out there”—it is the shape of the Christian life everywhere. Every member of Christ’s body has a role to play: some will go across oceans, others across the street. Some will give sacrificially to support the work; others will equip, host, disciple, pray, or advocate. All are sent ones. All are participants. All are necessary.
At Eternal, we nurture a posture of openness to the Spirit’s sending. We expect God to call members of our church to go—to plant churches, serve among unreached peoples, support global partners, and live incarnationally in contexts where Jesus is not yet known. We also affirm that this same Spirit is calling us to live missionally in our homes, schools, offices, and third spaces. There is no divide between sacred and secular—all of life is mission when it is surrendered to Jesus (Romans 12:1–2; Colossians 3:17).
And so, we are a church that prays fervently for the nations, that gives generously to the work of global and local missions, that equips our people to live as salt and light, and that commissions them with joy whenever and wherever the Spirit leads. Whether for a week, a year, or a lifetime, we bless those who go, and we support those who stay and send.
We do this because we know where history is headed. The story will end—and begin anew—around the throne, where a multitude no one can number from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation will worship the Lamb who was slain (Revelation 7:9–10). This is the mission for which Jesus died, and therefore it is the mission of every church that bears His name.
We go, we give, we pray, we proclaim—until the earth is filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea (Habakkuk 2:14).
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The Bible is not merely a guide for personal morality or religious insight—it is the sweeping, Spirit-breathed record of God's unfolding mission to redeem, reconcile, and renew all things through Jesus. From Genesis to Revelation, we see not a distant deity, but a missional God—a Father who seeks, a on who saves, and a Spirit who sends. To become a follower of Jesus, then, is not only to be rescued by His grace but to be swept up into His purpose.
Being part of God’s family means being part of God’s work.
At Eternal, we believe the world is not a place to escape, but a field to cultivate. It is not a sinking ship to abandon, but a beloved creation to steward and serve until the day all things are made new (Romans 8:18–23; Revelation 21:1–5). We do not wait for heaven in fear or apathy—we live as citizens of heaven now, bringing its values, hope, and healing into our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our city, and to the ends of the earth (Matthew 5:14–16; Philippians 3:20).
The local church is not peripheral to God's plan—it is God’s plan (Ephesians 3:10–11). The church is not a passive recipient of grace, but the living, breathing body of Christ, commissioned to make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:18–20). We are ambassadors of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:17–20), carriers of the kingdom, and heralds of good news for the poor, the broken, and the bound (Luke 4:18–19). This is not the calling of a few; it is the calling of all.
Mission is not something others do ”out there”—it is the shape of the Christian life everywhere. Every member of Christ’s body has a role to play: some will go across oceans, others across the street. Some will give sacrificially to support the work; others will equip, host, disciple, pray, or advocate. All are sent ones. All are participants. All are necessary.
At Eternal, we nurture a posture of openness to the Spirit’s sending. We expect God to call members of our church to go—to plant churches, serve among unreached peoples, support global partners, and live incarnationally in contexts where Jesus is not yet known. We also affirm that this same Spirit is calling us to live missionally in our homes, schools, offices, and third spaces. There is no divide between sacred and secular—all of life is mission when it is surrendered to Jesus (Romans 12:1–2; Colossians 3:17).
And so, we are a church that prays fervently for the nations, that gives generously to the work of global and local missions, that equips our people to live as salt and light, and that commissions them with joy whenever and wherever the Spirit leads. Whether for a week, a year, or a lifetime, we bless those who go, and we support those who stay and send.
We do this because we know where history is headed. The story will end—and begin anew—around the throne, where a multitude no one can number from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation will worship the Lamb who was slain (Revelation 7:9–10). This is the mission for which Jesus died, and therefore it is the mission of every church that bears His name.
We go, we give, we pray, we proclaim—until the earth is filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea (Habakkuk 2:14).
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H) Acting Justly
The gospel of Jesus Christ not only reconciles individuals to God, but also exposes the brokenness of a world estranged from its Creator. It humbles the powerful and dignifies the powerless. It levels every false hierarchy by reminding us that we are all dust—each one a sinner in need of mercy, and each one made in the image of God (Genesis 1:26–27; Romans 3:23). Therefore, the church, as the covenant community of the redeemed, must not only preach the gospel, but embody its implications through a life of justice and mercy.
God’s justice is not an abstract ideal. It is His character in action—His holy, loving, righteous engagement with a world marred by sin. From the earliest covenants, God called His people to reflect His justice through practical acts of generosity, fairness, protection of the vulnerable, and opposition to oppression (Micah 6:8; Deuteronomy 10:18–19). Israel was to live as a light to the nations, not only in worship but in the way they treated the orphan, the widow, the foreigner, and the poor. That calling has not changed for the church.
At Eternal, we do not see justice as a partisan issue or a social agenda, but as a kingdom imperative. We believe justice is what love looks like in public. It is the church’s Spirit-empowered response to the reality that the world is filled with systems, powers, and patterns of thinking that elevate some and marginalize others—systems that reflect human brokenness, not divine design (Isaiah 10:1–2; Ephesians 2; James 2:1–9).
We therefore reject both naïve idealism and fatalistic apathy. We do not wait for perfection to act. We recognize that institutions can be unjust because individuals are unjust, and we confess that these patterns can persist even in the church when left unchallenged. So, while our central mission is always to proclaim the saving grace of Jesus Christ, we understand that the power of that gospel must also be demonstrated in real, tangible acts of justice, compassion, and advocacy.
Justice, as we live it, begins with generosity. It looks like feeding the hungry, welcoming the refugee, adopting the unwanted, and honoring the aged. It means creating space for those with less privilege and voice, and it means allowing the shape of our life together—our governance, our giving, our rhythms—to reflect the just heart of God who shows no favoritism (Romans 2:11; Proverbs 31:8–9). Justice is neither a trend nor a slogan; it is a testimony to a different kind of kingdom—one where the last are first, where the humble are lifted, and where mercy triumphs over judgment (Luke 1:52–53; Matthew 23:23; James 2:13).
And we do this not because those we serve are always virtuous or deserving, but because we are the undeserving ones who have been served by Jesus. He is our model—the One who stooped, who bore injustice, who took the punishment of our sin upon Himself, and who now reigns in righteousness. In His name, we advocate for the voiceless, speak truth to power, and strive to make the church a community where justice flows like a river and righteousness like a never-failing stream (Amos 5:24).
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The gospel of Jesus Christ not only reconciles individuals to God, but also exposes the brokenness of a world estranged from its Creator. It humbles the powerful and dignifies the powerless. It levels every false hierarchy by reminding us that we are all dust—each one a sinner in need of mercy, and each one made in the image of God (Genesis 1:26–27; Romans 3:23). Therefore, the church, as the covenant community of the redeemed, must not only preach the gospel, but embody its implications through a life of justice and mercy.
God’s justice is not an abstract ideal. It is His character in action—His holy, loving, righteous engagement with a world marred by sin. From the earliest covenants, God called His people to reflect His justice through practical acts of generosity, fairness, protection of the vulnerable, and opposition to oppression (Micah 6:8; Deuteronomy 10:18–19). Israel was to live as a light to the nations, not only in worship but in the way they treated the orphan, the widow, the foreigner, and the poor. That calling has not changed for the church.
At Eternal, we do not see justice as a partisan issue or a social agenda, but as a kingdom imperative. We believe justice is what love looks like in public. It is the church’s Spirit-empowered response to the reality that the world is filled with systems, powers, and patterns of thinking that elevate some and marginalize others—systems that reflect human brokenness, not divine design (Isaiah 10:1–2; Ephesians 2; James 2:1–9).
We therefore reject both naïve idealism and fatalistic apathy. We do not wait for perfection to act. We recognize that institutions can be unjust because individuals are unjust, and we confess that these patterns can persist even in the church when left unchallenged. So, while our central mission is always to proclaim the saving grace of Jesus Christ, we understand that the power of that gospel must also be demonstrated in real, tangible acts of justice, compassion, and advocacy.
Justice, as we live it, begins with generosity. It looks like feeding the hungry, welcoming the refugee, adopting the unwanted, and honoring the aged. It means creating space for those with less privilege and voice, and it means allowing the shape of our life together—our governance, our giving, our rhythms—to reflect the just heart of God who shows no favoritism (Romans 2:11; Proverbs 31:8–9). Justice is neither a trend nor a slogan; it is a testimony to a different kind of kingdom—one where the last are first, where the humble are lifted, and where mercy triumphs over judgment (Luke 1:52–53; Matthew 23:23; James 2:13).
And we do this not because those we serve are always virtuous or deserving, but because we are the undeserving ones who have been served by Jesus. He is our model—the One who stooped, who bore injustice, who took the punishment of our sin upon Himself, and who now reigns in righteousness. In His name, we advocate for the voiceless, speak truth to power, and strive to make the church a community where justice flows like a river and righteousness like a never-failing stream (Amos 5:24).
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I) Loving Mercy
At the heart of our life together is mercy—not a vague sentiment, but the fierce, covenantal love of God known as hesed. It is the love that does not let go. The Lord describes Himself as “a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). It is this merciful character of God that holds us fast, renews us each morning (Lamentations 3:22–23), and anchors our hope when we falter.
At Eternal, we hold fast to this truth: justice without mercy becomes self-righteousness; mercy without justice becomes sentimentality. We are not the faithful ones in this covenant—He is. And it is because God demonstrated His mercy toward us, “while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:8), that we now extend that same mercy to others. This is not optional. It is a calling birthed in grace.
Mercy compels us toward compassion, especially when it is not easy. It slows our judgments, opens our hearts, and reminds us that every person we encounter is a story in process, loved by God. It draws us toward patience with those who try us, forgiveness for those who wound us, and kindness even to those we do not yet understand (Luke 6:36). In doing so, we resist the tribalism and polarization of our time and offer a different way—the way of the cross.
When Peter asked how many times he should forgive—thinking seven was generous—Jesus shattered his expectations with “seventy-seven times” (Matthew 18:21–22). This mercy is not mathematical. It is boundless, flowing not from our own capacity, but from God’s. Because we are the recipients of undeserved mercy, we become conduits of it. We love mercy because mercy has first loved us.
At Eternal, loving mercy is not a soft virtue—it is a radical practice. It changes the tone of our conversations, the posture of our hearts, and the shape of our community. And as we walk this road together, we find ourselves becoming more like our Savior—gentle and lowly, yet full of truth and grace.
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At the heart of our life together is mercy—not a vague sentiment, but the fierce, covenantal love of God known as hesed. It is the love that does not let go. The Lord describes Himself as “a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). It is this merciful character of God that holds us fast, renews us each morning (Lamentations 3:22–23), and anchors our hope when we falter.
At Eternal, we hold fast to this truth: justice without mercy becomes self-righteousness; mercy without justice becomes sentimentality. We are not the faithful ones in this covenant—He is. And it is because God demonstrated His mercy toward us, “while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:8), that we now extend that same mercy to others. This is not optional. It is a calling birthed in grace.
Mercy compels us toward compassion, especially when it is not easy. It slows our judgments, opens our hearts, and reminds us that every person we encounter is a story in process, loved by God. It draws us toward patience with those who try us, forgiveness for those who wound us, and kindness even to those we do not yet understand (Luke 6:36). In doing so, we resist the tribalism and polarization of our time and offer a different way—the way of the cross.
When Peter asked how many times he should forgive—thinking seven was generous—Jesus shattered his expectations with “seventy-seven times” (Matthew 18:21–22). This mercy is not mathematical. It is boundless, flowing not from our own capacity, but from God’s. Because we are the recipients of undeserved mercy, we become conduits of it. We love mercy because mercy has first loved us.
At Eternal, loving mercy is not a soft virtue—it is a radical practice. It changes the tone of our conversations, the posture of our hearts, and the shape of our community. And as we walk this road together, we find ourselves becoming more like our Savior—gentle and lowly, yet full of truth and grace.
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J) Walking Humbly
“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). This stark contrast echoes throughout the story of Scripture. From the fall of Adam to the exaltation of Jesus, the dividing line has always been drawn not between the strong and the weak, or the wise and the foolish, but between the proud and the humble. At Eternal, we believe that humility is not optional for the Christian life—it is the very soil in which the gospel takes root and grows.
To walk humbly before God (Micah 6:8) is to walk in truth. It is to see reality rightly—not inflated by ego, nor diminished by shame. Humility is not self-hatred or weakness, but the steady orientation of the heart toward God’s greatness and our dependence. It is the dawning awareness that “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30), and the awe-filled confession of the psalmist: “What is man that You are mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:4).
Pride, on the other hand, deceives us. It blinds us to grace, justifies our prejudices, and shields us from correction. It can even mask itself as spiritual strength. That is why pride is perhaps the most dangerous sin—it resists repentance, chokes transformation, and isolates us from God and one another. Humility, by contrast, opens us. It softens us to the Word, to correction, to community, to change. Without humility, we cannot receive Jesus. And without humility, we cannot follow Him.
Humility is also the ground of healthy community. It enables us to challenge injustice with courage and conviction, while refusing to demonize our enemies. It reminds us that we too were once alienated and rebellious—and still are, apart from grace (Titus 3:3–5). It grants us the strength to forgive and the courage to ask for forgiveness. It allows us to admit we’re wrong without crumbling, because our worth is not based on being right but being loved. It grants both leaders and followers the freedom to serve, to listen, to yield, and to grow.
Humility is what allows covenants to hold. It makes peace possible in a world addicted to self-preservation. It’s what sustains long obedience in the same direction. It is what allows a church to be corrected by Scripture, guided by the Spirit, and preserved in unity.
Ultimately, humility is not something we generate; it is something God cultivates in us as we keep our eyes on Jesus. He is the One who, though being in very nature God, made Himself nothing (Philippians 2:5–8). The Son of God took on flesh, stooped to serve, washed dirty feet, bore our sin, and laid down His life in love. This is the shape of divine greatness, and we are called to follow Him in it. The cross is not just where we find forgiveness; it is where we learn the way to live.
At Eternal, we pray that humility would not be rare or occasional, but the fragrance of our shared life. We hope to be a people who walk humbly with God and receive His grace.. If we are to become what He desires for us to be, then we must descend. We must go low, so He can be lifted high.
“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will exalt you” (James 4:10).
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“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). This stark contrast echoes throughout the story of Scripture. From the fall of Adam to the exaltation of Jesus, the dividing line has always been drawn not between the strong and the weak, or the wise and the foolish, but between the proud and the humble. At Eternal, we believe that humility is not optional for the Christian life—it is the very soil in which the gospel takes root and grows.
To walk humbly before God (Micah 6:8) is to walk in truth. It is to see reality rightly—not inflated by ego, nor diminished by shame. Humility is not self-hatred or weakness, but the steady orientation of the heart toward God’s greatness and our dependence. It is the dawning awareness that “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30), and the awe-filled confession of the psalmist: “What is man that You are mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:4).
Pride, on the other hand, deceives us. It blinds us to grace, justifies our prejudices, and shields us from correction. It can even mask itself as spiritual strength. That is why pride is perhaps the most dangerous sin—it resists repentance, chokes transformation, and isolates us from God and one another. Humility, by contrast, opens us. It softens us to the Word, to correction, to community, to change. Without humility, we cannot receive Jesus. And without humility, we cannot follow Him.
Humility is also the ground of healthy community. It enables us to challenge injustice with courage and conviction, while refusing to demonize our enemies. It reminds us that we too were once alienated and rebellious—and still are, apart from grace (Titus 3:3–5). It grants us the strength to forgive and the courage to ask for forgiveness. It allows us to admit we’re wrong without crumbling, because our worth is not based on being right but being loved. It grants both leaders and followers the freedom to serve, to listen, to yield, and to grow.
Humility is what allows covenants to hold. It makes peace possible in a world addicted to self-preservation. It’s what sustains long obedience in the same direction. It is what allows a church to be corrected by Scripture, guided by the Spirit, and preserved in unity.
Ultimately, humility is not something we generate; it is something God cultivates in us as we keep our eyes on Jesus. He is the One who, though being in very nature God, made Himself nothing (Philippians 2:5–8). The Son of God took on flesh, stooped to serve, washed dirty feet, bore our sin, and laid down His life in love. This is the shape of divine greatness, and we are called to follow Him in it. The cross is not just where we find forgiveness; it is where we learn the way to live.
At Eternal, we pray that humility would not be rare or occasional, but the fragrance of our shared life. We hope to be a people who walk humbly with God and receive His grace.. If we are to become what He desires for us to be, then we must descend. We must go low, so He can be lifted high.
“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will exalt you” (James 4:10).
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K) Our Peace with God and Other Christian Believers
Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we are reconciled to God. This peace is not merely the absence of hostility; it is the restoration of relationship—a deep, covenantal harmony where we are welcomed not as strangers but as beloved children. “Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1). This peace is a gift. It is not earned, deserved, or manufactured. It flows freely from the wounds of Jesus and is secured forever in His resurrected life.
But the gospel does not stop at vertical reconciliation. The peace we receive from God is meant to extend horizontally—to our brothers and sisters in Christ. Just as Jesus broke down the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and Gentile, so also His cross continues to dismantle every wall that separates human hearts (Ephesians 2:14–18). We are not only saved into a personal relationship with God—we are saved into a community of peace, a body knit together by the Spirit in love.
Still, we confess: this kind of peace does not come naturally. Our sin doesn’t just alienate us from God—it fractures our relationships with others. Pride, fear, insecurity, self-protection, envy, and bitterness sabotage the unity we are called to maintain. That’s why the journey toward peace begins with humility. It begins with owning our sin, naming the ways we have harmed others, and seeking forgiveness. It means forgiving as we have been forgiven, releasing our grip on resentment and entrusting justice to the Lord (Ephesians 4:32; Matthew 6:12). And it means walking—sometimes limping—toward reconciliation, even when it’s hard or costly.
Peacemaking, then, is not a passive posture but a courageous calling. It requires truth-telling, confession, repentance, forgiveness, and perseverance. It requires listening well, speaking gently, bearing with one another in love (Colossians 3:12–15). Peace is not pretending all is well; peace is laboring together to bring what is broken into the light of Christ’s healing.
This is why, at Eternal, we take seriously the ministry of reconciliation—not only with God, but with one another. We do not expect perfection in the church, but we do expect pursuit: pursuit of peace, pursuit of reconciliation, pursuit of relational wholeness modeled on the life of our Savior. We are called to “live peaceably with all” so far as it depends on us (Romans 12:18), and in doing so, to show the world the new reality Jesus is bringing into being.
The church is meant to be a sign and foretaste of that coming kingdom—a kingdom where swords are turned to plowshares, where tears are wiped away, and where all who were once far off are brought near by the blood of Jesus. This is the peace that passes understanding (Philippians 4:7), and this is the peace we long to cultivate among ourselves, for His glory and our joy.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God” (Matthew 5:9).
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Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we are reconciled to God. This peace is not merely the absence of hostility; it is the restoration of relationship—a deep, covenantal harmony where we are welcomed not as strangers but as beloved children. “Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1). This peace is a gift. It is not earned, deserved, or manufactured. It flows freely from the wounds of Jesus and is secured forever in His resurrected life.
But the gospel does not stop at vertical reconciliation. The peace we receive from God is meant to extend horizontally—to our brothers and sisters in Christ. Just as Jesus broke down the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and Gentile, so also His cross continues to dismantle every wall that separates human hearts (Ephesians 2:14–18). We are not only saved into a personal relationship with God—we are saved into a community of peace, a body knit together by the Spirit in love.
Still, we confess: this kind of peace does not come naturally. Our sin doesn’t just alienate us from God—it fractures our relationships with others. Pride, fear, insecurity, self-protection, envy, and bitterness sabotage the unity we are called to maintain. That’s why the journey toward peace begins with humility. It begins with owning our sin, naming the ways we have harmed others, and seeking forgiveness. It means forgiving as we have been forgiven, releasing our grip on resentment and entrusting justice to the Lord (Ephesians 4:32; Matthew 6:12). And it means walking—sometimes limping—toward reconciliation, even when it’s hard or costly.
Peacemaking, then, is not a passive posture but a courageous calling. It requires truth-telling, confession, repentance, forgiveness, and perseverance. It requires listening well, speaking gently, bearing with one another in love (Colossians 3:12–15). Peace is not pretending all is well; peace is laboring together to bring what is broken into the light of Christ’s healing.
This is why, at Eternal, we take seriously the ministry of reconciliation—not only with God, but with one another. We do not expect perfection in the church, but we do expect pursuit: pursuit of peace, pursuit of reconciliation, pursuit of relational wholeness modeled on the life of our Savior. We are called to “live peaceably with all” so far as it depends on us (Romans 12:18), and in doing so, to show the world the new reality Jesus is bringing into being.
The church is meant to be a sign and foretaste of that coming kingdom—a kingdom where swords are turned to plowshares, where tears are wiped away, and where all who were once far off are brought near by the blood of Jesus. This is the peace that passes understanding (Philippians 4:7), and this is the peace we long to cultivate among ourselves, for His glory and our joy.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God” (Matthew 5:9).
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