Faith Lutheran Church

Faith Lutheran Church Welcome to Faith Lutheran Church. We exist to joyfully proclaim the gospel of free salvation through Christ alone locally and worldwide. Our 10:15 a.m.

Worship Services are Sundays at 8:00 a.m. & 10:15 a.m. services are livestreamed at faithlutheranchurch.sermon.net

Exodus 9:26 “26 The only place it did not hail was the land of Goshen, where the Israelites were.” The clouds grew dark...
06/23/2026

Exodus 9:26 “26 The only place it did not hail was the land of Goshen, where the Israelites were.”

The clouds grew darker by the mile. I could feel the storm tightening around me. My truck’s temperature gauge dropped—71… 60… 50… 44. Then the sky opened. Rain turned to hail, and not the harmless kind. These were golf ball sized chunks of ice slamming into my windshield with a deafening force. I slowed from 75 to 50, flipped on my hazards, and eased onto the shoulder with the rest of the drivers. My wipers pushed slush across the glass as hailstones bounced off the asphalt like marbles. For a moment, I wondered if the windshield would shatter.

So, I waited. I stayed put until the storm passed.

As I sat there, I thought of the plague God sent to Egypt—a hailstorm unlike anything the land had ever seen. It was a warning, a wake up call, a display of God’s unmatched power. But tucked inside that terrifying moment is a beautiful detail: “Only in the land of Goshen… was there no hail.” God’s people were sheltered. Covered. Kept safe on the good side of His blessing.

Life brings storms that fall hard and fast—diagnoses, losses, disappointments, fears that hit like hail against the soul. But for those who belong to the Lord, there is always a Goshen. A place of covering. A place where God’s hand shields, steadies, and preserves.

Being on the good side of God’s blessing doesn’t mean we never face storms. It means the storm cannot undo what God is doing in us. It cannot shatter His promises. It cannot break the shelter of His love.

Today, take heart: The God who spared His people from the hail still knows how to protect His own. Even when the sky darkens, you are held in the safest place—under His care.

Matthew 10:29–31 “29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Fat...
06/22/2026

Matthew 10:29–31 “29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

I was driving the other day when a small bird darted out in front of my car. I heard the sickening thud and saw a puff of feathers in the rearview mirror. My heart sank. I didn’t mean to hit it. I felt badly about it. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t check on the bird. I didn’t pause to pay respects or bury it. I simply kept driving because life was moving fast and the road kept pulling me forward. Our world often treats people the same way.

We hear about a tragedy on the news and feel a moment of sadness—but only a moment. We shake our heads at another act of violence, another loss, another heartbreak. But rarely do we stop long enough to remember that behind every headline is someone’s son or daughter, someone’s mother or father, someone deeply loved. But God is different.

Jesus tells us that not even a sparrow falls to the ground without the Father noticing. A bird—one of the most common, fragile creatures in creation—never escapes His attention. If God sees the fall of a sparrow, how much more does He see the weight you carry, the pain you hide, the fears you don’t speak aloud.
God doesn’t keep driving. He stops. He notices. He bends low. He enters our sorrow, our confusion, our loneliness. He lifts us with compassion that never rushes past our need.

Today, rest in this truth: You are seen. You are valued. You are never overlooked by the God who counts sparrows—and calls you His own.

Philippians 2:12–13 “12 Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more...
06/20/2026

Philippians 2:12–13 “12 Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.”

The basketball hoop project looked simple enough on paper. Dig a hole—three feet deep, two feet by two feet. Fill it with rebar, concrete, and anchor bolts. Let it cure. Assemble the post. Level it. Secure it. All according to the directions.

And I did. I followed every step because I knew what that foundation would one day carry—not just the weight of the backboard, but the slam dunks, the hang ons, the competitive games, the celebrations. A weak foundation would never hold.
But then came the moment of truth: attaching the glass backboard. It looked easy. Lift, hold, bolt. But the thing was enormous, heavy, and awkwardly high. My son and I must have looked like a comedy act—balancing, wobbling, dropping bolts, starting over. More than once I wondered if we’d ever get it up there.

But we did. And when it was finally secure, the nervousness faded. The strain was worth it. And yes—I was the first to sink a shot through that brand new hoop - not a slam dunk, a lay up- this old man can’t jump like he used to.

Our spiritual lives follow a similar pattern. Paul tells us to “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.” Not because salvation depends on our strength—it doesn’t—but because the life God is building in us is weighty, holy, and meant to carry something glorious. The foundation matters. The obedience matters. The perseverance matters.

And just like that backboard, some parts of spiritual growth feel awkward, heavy, or frustrating. We drop the “bolts” of patience, discipline, forgiveness, or trust. We start over. We wobble. We wonder if we’ll ever get it right.

But God is working in us even as we work. His hands steady what ours cannot. His strength holds what ours drops. And when the work is complete, the reward of faith is joy—real, lasting joy.

One day, we will see the finished work He has built in us. And the first “shot” through that eternal hoop will make every struggle worth it.

Proverbs 9:10 “10 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” Ele...
06/19/2026

Proverbs 9:10 “10 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.”

Electricity is powerful. Most days I hardly think about it—because it stays safely inside cords, wires, outlets, and switches. I simply plug something in and trust the power will flow. But recently, while helping a friend wire his pole barn, I got a sharp reminder of just how real that power is.

I’ve worked with electricity many times. I respect it. I know its strength. But as I tightened a screw on a live wire, my screwdriver slipped. In an instant, sparks flew and a jolt shot through my body. It wasn’t enough to injure me, but it was enough to wake me up. Enough to remind me that power deserves respect.

There’s a spiritual parallel here. God’s power is always present—steady, available, flowing into our lives. We get used to it. We take it for granted. We “plug in” through prayer, worship, Scripture, and service, often without pausing to remember the holy force we’re connecting to.

But every now and then, God gives me a jolt—not to harm me, but to awaken me. A moment of conviction. A whisper of correction. A sudden awareness of His holiness. A reminder that the One I follow is not a tame or casual power, but the living God.

Proverbs 9:10 says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” That “fear” isn’t terror—it’s reverence. It’s the healthy respect that comes from knowing God is mighty, holy, and worthy of awe. It’s remembering that His power is not something to handle carelessly.

Just like electricity, God’s power is meant to flow through me, to bring light, warmth, and life. But it also calls me to humility, attentiveness, and respect.
Today I’m grateful for the reminder. Grateful for the spark that wakes me up.
Grateful for a God whose power is both comforting and awe inspiring. And I want to stay connected—carefully, reverently, joyfully—to the Source of all true power.

Matthew 15:13 “13 He replied, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.” Th...
06/18/2026

Matthew 15:13 “13 He replied, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.”

The tree came down with a mighty crash. It had stood for years on the edge of my woods, but time, insects, and disease had hollowed it out. What once was strong had become dangerous. Cutting it down wasn’t optional—it was necessary. Living surrounded by trees, I know this routine well. Growth, decline, decay, removal. It’s a yearly process.

As that dead tree fell, it preached a quiet sermon.

There are things in our lives which we have allowed to grow—habits, attitudes, resentments, distractions—that started small and harmless but have slowly become dangerous. They lean in directions they shouldn’t. They threaten what is healthy. They weaken what God is trying to strengthen. And if I don’t deal with them, they will eventually fall in a way that causes damage.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 15:13 remind us that not everything growing in our lives was planted by God. Some things sprouted from fear. Some from pride. Some from old wounds. Some from simple neglect. And like that dead tree, they won’t fix themselves. They must be cut down.

The good news is that God doesn’t ask us to do this work alone. His Spirit puts the saw in our hands. He gives courage to face what we’d rather ignore. He gives wisdom to know what needs to go. He gives strength to remove what has become unsafe for our souls.

And when something falls—when a habit is broken, a sin confessed, a bitterness uprooted—there is always space for new growth. Sunlight reaches places it couldn’t before. Fresh life takes root. The forest of our hearts becomes healthier, safer, more fruitful.

Today is a good day to walk the woods of our souls with the Lord. To notice what’s dying. To cut down what no longer belongs. And to trust that every clearing He creates is preparing room for something better to grow.

Psalm 55:22 “22 Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” The p...
06/17/2026

Psalm 55:22 “22 Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.”

The pole bent so hard I felt the surge of adrenaline shoot through me. The drag screamed, and the fish ran for deep water with the kind of power that makes you instantly know—this one is big. Maybe the biggest I’ve ever hooked. I could already picture it on the wall, a story I’d tell for years. Every crank of the reel pulled that dream a little closer.

But as the fish neared the boat, reality hit me. I had no net. Nothing to lift this monster from the water. Still, I leaned down—awkward, hopeful, determined—trying to grab it with my hands. The fish saw me, gave one last violent twist, and in a split second the line snapped. My trophy swam away, leaving only a sting of disappointment and a lesson I didn’t expect.

Life feels like that more often than I want to admit. I pray, I hope, I work hard, and sometimes I even hook something that feels like a blessing—an opportunity, a breakthrough, a long awaited answer. I reel it in with excitement, imagining how good it will be. But then I realize I’m missing something essential. Strength. Patience. Wisdom. Support. Or simply the readiness to receive what God is giving.

Psalm 55:22 reminds me that I’m not meant to hold everything together on my own. God never asked me to have every tool, every answer, every net. He simply asked me to cast my burdens on Him—and promised that He would sustain me.
Sometimes the line breaks because God is preparing me for a better catch.

Sometimes the blessing slips away because my hands aren’t ready to hold it yet. And sometimes the loss itself becomes the training that strengthens my faith.
So I’m learning to trust His timing, His preparation, and His provision. The next time I feel that tug on the line, I want to be ready—not just with excitement, but with the tools God provides.

And yes, I’m keeping a net in the boat.

1 Corinthians 7:20 “20 Each person should remain in the situation they were in when God called them.” Drive past any fi...
06/16/2026

1 Corinthians 7:20 “20 Each person should remain in the situation they were in when God called them.”

Drive past any field this time of year and you’ll see it—the first straight rows of green breaking through the soil. Every shoot rises exactly where the farmer placed the seed. Not one plant wanders into another row. Not one decides to sprout a few feet over. Each grows faithfully in the spot where it was planted, through wind, rain, heat, and time, until the day of harvest.

There’s something profoundly steadying about that. Those tiny shoots don’t question their place. They don’t compare themselves to the row beside them. They don’t wish for a different patch of soil or a sunnier corner of the field. They simply grow where they were planted.

Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians echo that same truth for us: “Each one should remain in the condition in which he was called.” In other words, God knows exactly where He has placed you—your family, your work, your church, your season of life. None of it is accidental. You are not randomly scattered seed. You are intentionally sown.

And like those young plants, your growth doesn’t depend on being somewhere else. It depends on staying rooted in the One who planted you. The conditions around you may shift. The season may stretch longer than you expected. The soil may feel ordinary or even difficult. But God is tending you. He is nourishing you. He is watching over your growth with a farmer’s patience and a Father’s love.

The harvest will come. And when it does, the fruit God brings from your life will be exactly what He intended when He placed you where you are.

So today, resist the urge to uproot your heart with comparison or restlessness. Stand tall in your row. Trust the Farmer. Grow faithfully where He has planted you.

Galatians 5:7–8 “7 You were running a good race. Who cut in on you to keep you from obeying the truth? 8 That kind of pe...
06/15/2026

Galatians 5:7–8 “7 You were running a good race. Who cut in on you to keep you from obeying the truth? 8 That kind of persuasion does not come from the one who calls you.”

You know the difference immediately—the calm rhythm of small town roads compared to the frantic pulse of city traffic. In Clare, Harrison, or Mount Pleasant, you can breathe. People wave you through. Life moves at a human pace. But the moment you merge into Grand Rapids or Lansing, everything tightens. Cars dart and weave like they’re chasing a trophy at Daytona. And sometimes, someone cuts in so sharply you lose sight of their taillights and have to slam the brakes just to stay safe. I experienced that on a recent visit to Grand Rapids.

Paul understood that feeling. Not the traffic, of course, but the spiritual version of it. The Galatians had been “running well,” keeping their eyes on Christ, walking in step with the Spirit. But suddenly something—or someone—cut them off. A fast moving influence swerved into their lane, blocking their view of Jesus and forcing them to react instead of follow.

Our world does the same. Its pace is relentless. Its noise is constant. Its values shift like lanes on a crowded freeway. And if we’re not watchful, the world’s compulsions—hurry, ego, comparison, distraction—slide right in front of us. They don’t just slow us down; they obscure our view of the One we’re meant to follow.

But here’s the good news: being cut off doesn’t mean being cut out. I didn’t crash that day in Grand Rapids. I steadied myself, slowed down, and kept going. Spiritually, the same is true. When the world crowds your lane, the Spirit invites you to ease off the accelerator, breathe, and return your gaze to Jesus. He never weaves unpredictably. He never forces you into panic. His pace is steady, His path sure, His presence constant.

By God’s grace you are still running well. The world may try to cut you off, but it cannot keep you from the One who calls you—unless you let it. Stay in His lane. Match His pace. Keep your eyes on His light ahead. The road is safer than it feels, because He is leading you home.

2 Thessalonians 3:3 “ But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” The soun...
06/13/2026

2 Thessalonians 3:3 “ But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.”

The sound was unmistakable—the sharp, rhythmic cadence that made me rise to my feet. A woodpecker. Our house is sided with half logs, giving the warm impression of a log cabin. Apparently, the woodpeckers think so too. They come pecking, convinced that a feast of bugs must be hiding beneath the surface.

I’ve labored like a keyboard warrior searching for solutions to keep them from damaging the siding. I’ve tried shiny reflective mirrors, spinning CDs, and even replicas of their natural enemy—the owl. But after a while, the woodpeckers grow accustomed to every tactic. What once startled them no longer fazes them. They return, undeterred, pecking away in their relentless pursuit.

The interesting thing is that there are no bugs in the siding. None. The wood has been treated and sealed. It is protected. But the woodpeckers don’t know that. They keep attacking what cannot harm them and what cannot feed them.

And isn’t that a picture of the enemy’s tactics toward us? Satan pecks at our peace, our identity, our confidence in Christ. He tries new angles, new lies, new distractions. When one tactic stops working, he shifts to another. He is persistent, relentless, and often loud. But here is the truth: he is pecking at protected wood.

God has shielded us. Sealed us. Covered us in Christ. The enemy may rattle us, but he cannot reach the core. He may make noise, but he cannot undo what God has done. He may try to convince us that something harmful is lurking beneath the surface, but the Lord has already treated our hearts with His grace.

God reminds us in his Word: “The Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” God’s protection is not fragile. It does not wear out. It does not lose its power over time. And the enemy never finds a weak spot God has overlooked.

So when the pecking comes—and it will—stand firm. You are shielded. You are secure. And the One who guards you never grows weary.

Joel 2:13 “Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slo...
06/12/2026

Joel 2:13 “Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.”

The line went tight, the bobber disappeared, and suddenly the quiet stillness of the lake erupted into action. The fish was on. I wanted to reel it in, to see the catch, to hold the prize of patience and timing. But the fish wanted nothing to do with that. It darted, pulled, twisted, and fought with everything in it to get away. What I intended as a moment of delight, the fish experienced as danger. What I meant for good, it resisted with all its strength.

As I felt the tug and watched the line dance across the water, I couldn’t help but see a reflection of our own hearts. How often we run from God instead of to Him. How often we pull against His leading, convinced that surrender means loss, or that His intentions toward us are somehow harmful. Like that fish, we thrash and resist, trying to escape the very One who seeks to draw us close.

But God is not an angler looking to trap us. He is a Father longing to gather us. His pull is not to harm but to heal. His pursuit is not to conquer but to restore. Joel reminds us that the God who calls us to return is “gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love.” He does not yank us toward Him with force. He draws us with kindness. He reels us in with mercy.

And yet, we still run. We hide behind excuses, fears, and the illusion of independence. But every tug of His Spirit is an invitation—not to captivity, but to freedom. Not to loss, but to life. Not to fear, but to forgiveness.

The fish fights because it does not know the heart of the one holding the line. But we do. We know the hands that reach for us are scarred with love. We know the voice calling us is gentle and true. We know the One who pursues us is the One who gave everything to save us.

So instead of running, let your heart be caught. Let His grace pull you in. Let His love win the fight.

Address

1402 E Preston Road
Mount Pleasant, MI
48858

Opening Hours

Monday 9am - 4pm
Tuesday 9am - 4pm
Wednesday 9am - 4pm
Thursday 9am - 4pm
Friday 9am - 4pm

Telephone

+19897732629

Website

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