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At Christ Community Church (C3 Memphis) we are seeking to form followers in the way of Jesus so the fame and deeds of God are repeated in our time. We meet on Sunday mornings at 10:15AM.
For more information you can go to c3memphis.org
At Christ Community Church (C3 Memphis) we are seeking to form followers in the way of Jesus so the fame and deeds of God are repeated in our time. We meet on Sunday mornings at 10:15AM.
For more information you can go to c3memphis.org
Episodes

4 days ago
4 days ago
In this sermon, Tommy walks the congregation through Ecclesiastes 12, using King Solomon’s final reflections to confront the reality of aging, mortality, and meaning. Written near the end of Solomon’s life, Ecclesiastes reflects a man who has experienced wealth, wisdom, pleasure, and power—yet concludes that life lived merely “under the sun” is ultimately meaningless apart from God.
The sermon opens by framing Ecclesiastes as deeply honest and intentionally sobering. Solomon repeatedly uses the word “meaningless” to describe life when it is viewed only from an earthly perspective. This is not nihilism, but realism—designed to awaken people, especially the young, before time, strength, and opportunity slip away.
Tommy explains that Ecclesiastes 12 is written as an allegory of aging, describing the gradual decline of the human body and mind. Solomon urges readers to “remember your Creator in the days of your youth,” because aging brings psychological, physiological, and eventually physical decline. The mind grows weary, joy becomes harder to find, and life can feel increasingly dark and repetitive. This is the psychological toll of aging when hope is rooted only in earthly things.
Physiologically, Solomon’s imagery vividly portrays the body breaking down: trembling hands, weakened legs, failing eyesight, loss of hearing, disrupted sleep, and diminished desire. Rather than being crude, the allegory preserves dignity while making the point unmistakable—human strength is temporary, and decline is inevitable.
Finally, the physical conclusion is unavoidable: death. The “silver cord” is severed, the “golden bowl” is broken, and the spirit returns to God. Tommy emphasizes that Scripture is clear—death is certain, and judgment follows. Ignoring this reality does not delay it.
Yet the sermon does not end in despair. Solomon closes with clarity and hope: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of mankind.” Life gains meaning when lived with God at the center. Obedience, reverence, and eternal perspective anchor life with purpose that aging and death cannot erase.
Tommy’s central message is clear: wisdom is not found in denying mortality, but in preparing for it. The best time to orient life around God is not later—but now.
Discussion Questions
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What does it mean to live life “under the sun,” and where do you see that mindset influencing your daily decisions?
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Why do you think Solomon specifically urges people to remember God while they are young?
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How does facing the reality of aging and death change the way you prioritize your time, energy, and relationships?
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In what ways can fearing God and keeping His commandments bring meaning to ordinary, everyday life?
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What is one practical step you can take this week to live with a more eternal perspective?
If you’d like, I can also:
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Condense this into a small-group handout
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Rewrite it in a more devotional tone
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Create a teaching outline or sermon recap slide

Monday Feb 09, 2026
He Is Good | The New Exodus | Mark 14:12-31| Coleton Segars
Monday Feb 09, 2026
Monday Feb 09, 2026
The New Exodus
22 Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take it; this is my body.” 23 Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it. 24 “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.” –Mark 14:22-24
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Jesus did not stumble into the Passover meal. He orchestrated it. Every detail was arranged—where to go, who to follow, which room to use—because something deeply important was about to be said. This was not just another meal. This was His meal. A moment where Jesus would say, without speeches or arguments, what His heart most wanted His followers to understand.
At that table, Jesus made something unmistakably clear: He chose to suffer for us.
He spoke openly about betrayal. Not vaguely, not hypothetically—but personally. One of the Twelve. One dipping bread into the same bowl. Jesus knew exactly what was coming. He could have stopped it. He could have exposed Judas, avoided the cross, escaped the pain. And yet, He did none of that. Why? Because He was not a victim of suffering; He was a volunteer. He chose the path of suffering so that blessing could come to us.
This is where Jesus stands apart from every other way of life. Most paths tell us, “You do it. You pay the price. You fix yourself.” Jesus says, “I’ll do it. I’ll pay it. I’ll suffer in your place to bring you to God.” Like a father who works himself to exhaustion so his children can experience joy they could never earn on their own, Jesus bears the weight we could not carry.
Then, in the breaking of bread and the sharing of the cup, Jesus redefines the ancient Passover story. What once remembered freedom from slavery in Egypt now points to a greater rescue. “This is my body.” “This is my blood.” He takes the symbols of deliverance and makes them about Himself. He is saying, Just as God once rescued His people from Pharaoh, I am rescuing My people from sin.
The word Jesus uses for forgiveness means release. Freedom. Liberation from bondage. He does not look at us primarily as rebels to be crushed, but as slaves who need to be set free. Slaves to fear. To habits we hate. To patterns we swore we’d never repeat. To decisions we don’t even want to make—but keep making anyway.
We see it in the disciples. They meant what they said. Peter truly believed he would stand strong. The others truly believed they would stay faithful. And yet, they all fell away. Not because they wanted to—but because something else was calling the shots. Sin does that. It promises life and delivers the opposite.
Jesus sees that. And He says, I came to rescue you from that.
I chose to suffer to set you free.
I bled so you could be released.
The invitation of this meal still stands. Come. Trust Him. Let Him free you. Whether it’s the first surrender of your life or the bringing of hidden chains you’re tired of carrying—Jesus is gentle, determined, and faithful to finish the work He began.

Sunday Feb 01, 2026

Sunday Feb 01, 2026

Sunday Feb 01, 2026
How reliable is the Bible and the life of Jesus?
Sunday Feb 01, 2026
Sunday Feb 01, 2026
Case for Christ - Lee Strobel
Also, check this article out. It gives an image showing copies and dating for ancient documents including the New Testament.

Sunday Feb 01, 2026

Sunday Feb 01, 2026

Sunday Feb 01, 2026
How can I hear God's Voice?
Sunday Feb 01, 2026
Sunday Feb 01, 2026
How to Hear God - Pete Greig
https://www.amazon.com/How-Hear-God-Simple-Normal/dp/0310114608

Sunday Feb 01, 2026

Monday Jan 19, 2026
He Is Good | The Power of Worship | Mark 14:1-11 | Coleton Segars
Monday Jan 19, 2026
Monday Jan 19, 2026
The Power of Worship
Mark 14:1-11
Worship is never neutral. It either loosens our grip on lesser loves or tightens their chains around our soul. In Bethany, while death plotted in the shadows and religion calculated its risks, a woman stepped into the light of wholehearted devotion. She broke what could not be repaired, poured out what could not be recovered, and loved Jesus without reserve. And Jesus called it beautiful.
Mary’s act was not impulsive sentimentality; it was the overflow of a heart already shaped. She did not wake that morning intending to make history. She simply brought to Jesus what she treasured most. Worship is always like this—it reveals what already reigns within us. Judas stood in the same room, heard the same words, saw the same Jesus. Yet one broke a jar in love, and the other sold the Lord for silver. Experience with Jesus does not transform us; worship of Jesus does.
What we revere, we resemble. Mary worshiped Jesus and became free—free from calculation, free from fear of opinion, free from the tyranny of possessions. Judas worshiped money and became enslaved—restless, defensive, deceptive, willing to trade relationship for reward. Worship is never merely about what we do on occasion; it is about who or what commands our deepest allegiance. And that allegiance quietly but relentlessly forms us.
Notice that Mary did not understand the full meaning of her act. Jesus tells us she was preparing Him for burial, though she likely had no such awareness. This is the hidden power of worship: God uses surrendered love to accomplish purposes far beyond our understanding. We imagine worship as expressive; God reveals it to be effective. He has chosen praise, sacrifice, obedience, and devotion as instruments through which He works His will in the world.
Yet worship will always invite resistance. Mary’s devotion was criticized by the religious, rebuked by friends, labeled wasteful and impractical. True worship often looks foolish to those who measure life by utility rather than love. But Jesus stands between the worshiper and the accuser and says, “Leave her alone.” Heaven’s approval outweighs every earthly objection.
The question is not whether we worship, but whom. Our lives testify to our altar. Look not merely at your words, but at your formation. Are you becoming more loving or more guarded? More generous or more anxious? More gentle or more defensive? These are not accidental outcomes; they are the fruit of devotion.
Mary did what she could—and that was enough. She did not calculate future security or public opinion. She responded to Jesus with affection and action. Worship that costs us nothing shapes us into nothing. But worship that breaks us open becomes a fragrance God uses to fill the room—and sometimes, to give hope to others standing knee-deep in the mud.
Pour it out. Worship anyway. God is at work.
