Leland Pioneer Community Church

03/16/2026

Urgent prayer request for a friend of John and Jayne. Ron Jones had a stroke last night and had surgery to remove the clot. Pray for survival and recovery and also for his wife Jan

02/03/2026

We just received this gracious Thank You note from the Morrison family.

01/01/2026

When Jesus tells the story of the lost sheep, He is not painting a soft, sentimental picture. He is revealing a love that is costly, uncomfortable, and breathtakingly personal.

Sheep are not clean animals. They wander. They fall. They get stuck in mud, thorns, and their own waste. A lost sheep is not just scared. It is filthy. Exhausted. Covered in grime. And unable to rescue itself.

The dirtiest part of a sheep is its hindquarters. That is where the waste clings. That is where the smell is strongest. That is where the mess is undeniable.

And when the shepherd finds the sheep, he does not drag it. He does not clean it first. He does not make it walk back to prove it has learned a lesson.

He lifts it.

He places the sheep on his shoulders.

Which means the dirtiest part of the sheep is pressed against the shepherd’s neck, his face, his clothes. The smell. The filth. The weight. All of it rests on him.

Jesus chose that detail on purpose.

This is not accidental imagery. This is the gospel.

Jesus is showing us exactly what He would do on the cross.

He did not save us from a distance.
He did not wait for us to get clean.
He did not rescue the polished version of us.

He took the mess onto Himself.

Scripture tells us that Jesus became sin for us. Not near sin. Not aware of sin. He became it. All the shame. All the guilt. All the filth we try to hide. All of it was placed on Him.

The cross is the Shepherd carrying the sheep.

The weight you could not carry was placed on His shoulders.
The stain you could not remove was pressed against His holiness.
The smell of death you could not escape was absorbed by His life.

And He did not recoil.

He rejoiced.

Jesus says the shepherd carries the sheep back rejoicing. Not frustrated. Not embarrassed. Rejoicing.

That is the heart of the Father.

God is not disgusted by your mess. He already carried it.
God is not shocked by your weakness. He already bore it.
God is not waiting for you to clean yourself up. He already paid the price.

Religion tells you to hide your dirt.
Jesus carries it.

Religion tells you to scrub harder.
Jesus says it is finished.

When the shepherd arrives home, he does not isolate the sheep. He throws a celebration. He invites others to rejoice. Heaven celebrates not when a sheep becomes clean, but when it is found.

This is the finished work.

You are not loved because you improved.
You are not accepted because you behaved.
You are not held because you stayed clean.

You are loved because He carried you.
You are accepted because He finished the work.
You are held because He chose you.

If this does not make you fall in love with God, nothing will.

A God who puts your dirtiest parts on His shoulders.
A Savior who absorbs your shame instead of avoiding it.
A Father who rejoices over you while you are still messy.

This is not fragile love.
This is not conditional love.
This is love that smells like sacrifice and looks like a cross.

Rest here.

You are not a burden to God.
You were a joy set before Him.

And He would carry you again without hesitation.

12/20/2025

Church Service will be held in Kendrick at the Grange 10:AM No power at Leland.

12/10/2025

11/27/2025

Sometimes Thanksgiving morning arrives with a mix of emotions you hardly speak about. You wake up early, maybe before the house stirs, and for a moment you simply sit there wondering how another year has passed. You think of loved ones who will walk through your door and loved ones who no longer can. You think of the aches you carry quietly and the blessings you sometimes forget to notice. And in that stillness, you feel the weight of everything you hold together.
There is a deeper truth beneath those first thoughts of the day. You are someone who has poured out love again and again, often without applause, often without rest. You carry memories in your chest like folded linens. Some are soft. Some are worn. All are precious. And that tenderness, that longing, that quiet strength is part of why this day feels so big.
But take a breath for a moment. What you are feeling is human. What you are remembering is sacred. And what you are hoping for is something God Himself understands. There is room for joy and room for ache on days like this, and nothing about you is failing because you feel both.
As the morning light brushes across your kitchen counters and the scent of coffee warms the air, let this be where the shift happens. This is the place where God meets you. Not in perfection, not in busyness, but in the simple act of showing up with a willing heart. He has walked with you through every season, and today He invites you to see His fingerprints in the ordinary moments.
The clatter of dishes
The familiar laughter
The quiet pause before grace
The memories rising with the steam of something cooking on the stove
All of these are small seeds He planted long ago. Seeds of endurance. Seeds of gratitude. Seeds of faith that grew in nights you thought would break you and mornings you thought you were too tired to keep going. Yet here you are, still standing, still loving, still preparing a place for others. Heaven sees that.
And as this day unfolds, from sunrise to the last flicker of evening candles, may you sense a gentle covering over you. The Lord is not asking you to manufacture joy. He is offering you His. The kind that steadies. The kind that softens. The kind that reminds you that every breath of this day is held in His care.
Here is my prayer for you this Thanksgiving:
Lord, let this dear one feel Your nearness from the quiet of the morning to the final moments of the night. Fill their home with peace that settles like warm light. Strengthen their heart with gratitude that does not ignore the hard things but shines through them. Bless their table, bless their memories, and bless the tender places they carry. Let today be a reminder that they are held, loved, and guided by Your faithful hand. Amen.

11/26/2025

Abby, could you bring some of the large cones?

11/26/2025

Can we plan on decorating the church after services on Sunday? We need a few cedar, pine, and fire boughs for the windows.

08/29/2025