This Sunday, we continued our Foundations: What Every Christian Should Know series with a sermon titled A Table of Examination. If you would like to listen to the sermon, you can do so by clicking here.

Last week, we focused on what Communion helps us remember. This week, we looked at something just as important: How should we come to the table?

​According to the Apostle Paul, Communion is not something we approach casually. It’s a sacred moment where God calls us to slow down, examine our hearts, and respond honestly before Him.

The sermon began with the story of President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1955. While on vacation in Denver, Eisenhower began feeling sick after a round of golf. At first, he assumed it was just indigestion. It didn’t seem serious. But after doctors examined him, they discovered he had suffered a major heart attack. It took examination to reveal what was really happening beneath the surface. And that’s exactly what Communion does spiritually. You can walk into church feeling fine. You can sit through a service assuming everything’s okay. But when you come to the Lord’s Table, God says, “Let’s look a little deeper.” Communion slows us down and confronts us with the condition of our hearts.

I. Come With True Faith

When Jesus instituted Communion, He shared it with His followers, people who trusted Him. That’s an important distinction because there’s a difference between knowing about Jesus and truly trusting Him. James tells us even demons believe in God’s existence. But knowledge alone is not saving faith. Real faith is trust. It’s placing your hope fully in what Christ has done for you through His death and resurrection. At Communion, believers are declaring, “My hope is not in myself. My hope is in Jesus Christ.”

I used the historical example of George Wilson, a man sentenced to death in the 1800s who was issued a presidential pardon by Andrew Jackson but refused to accept it. The pardon was offered, but because it was rejected, it had no effect. That illustration points directly to the Gospel. Salvation has been provided through Christ, but it must be personally received by faith. Communion reminds us that we don’t come because we deserve a seat at the table. We come because Jesus made a way for us to be there.

II. Come With A Clean Heart

Next, we looked at Paul’s instruction: “But let a man examine himself…” Part of that examination involves our relationships with other people. Communion and unforgiveness do not belong together. Jesus taught us to pray, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” That’s a sobering statement because it forces us to ask whether we’re extending the same mercy we’ve received.

We walked through Jesus’ parable of the unforgiving servant, a man forgiven of an enormous debt who then refused to forgive someone else a much smaller one. The point is impossible to miss. You cannot cling to the forgiveness of God while refusing to forgive others. That doesn’t mean reconciliation is always simple or immediate. It does mean believers must come willing to release bitterness, surrender offense, and let God deal with the situation. Communion exposes what we’ve tried to hide. It reveals whether our hearts are soft toward God and toward others.

III. Come With A Willing Heart

Finally, we looked at what it means to come with a willing heart. A willing heart prays like David did in Psalm 139: “Search me, O God…” That’s not an easy prayer, because if God searches us honestly, He may point to things we’ve grown comfortable with: attitudes, relationships, habits, priorities, or sins we’ve tried to ignore. Examination requires honesty, but honesty alone isn’t enough. There must also be willingness to respond.

One of the strongest illustrations from the sermon came from the life of C. T. Studd. He was one of the most famous cricket players in England. He had wealth, recognition, and a secure future ahead of him. But after facing the reality of eternity through a family crisis, God began dealing deeply with his heart. Eventually, he walked away from fame and comfort to become a missionary in China and later Africa. Why? Because when God put His finger on something in his life, he chose surrender over comfort. That’s what a willing heart looks like. It says, “Lord, whatever You show me, I’ll deal with it.”

As the sermon closed, we returned to the illustration of Eisenhower’s heart attack. The examination didn’t harm him. It helped him. It exposed what needed attention before it was too late. That’s what Communion is meant to do spiritually. It is not about condemnation. It is about correction. It is not about pushing believers away from God. It is about drawing them back near to Him.

Paul said that when we judge ourselves rightly, we step into God’s mercy instead of ignoring what needs to change. So how should we come to the table? We come with true faith. We come with a clean heart. We come with a willing heart. Not perfect, but honest before God. And when we come that way, Communion becomes more than a ritual. It becomes a moment where God recenters our hearts on Christ and reminds us what truly matters.

– Pastor Charley Munro
Living Grace Church, Tyler, Texas

This past Sunday, we began a new sermon series called Foundations: What Every Christian Should Know. The goal of this series is simple but important, to slow down and take a closer look at the core elements of the Christian faith.

For many believers, especially those who are newer to the faith, there are things we practice that don’t always get clearly explained. Over time, it’s easy to find yourself participating in meaningful acts without fully understanding why they matter. And even for those who’ve been walking with Christ for years, there’s real value in returning to the basics with fresh eyes.

We started this series by focusing on Communion, the Lord’s Table, and asking one central question:

What are we remembering?

One of the dangers in the Christian life is allowing sacred things to become routine. When that happens, something powerful can start to feel ordinary.

Think about Memorial Day. For many, it’s a long weekend filled with cookouts and time off. But that’s not what it was set apart for. It was established to remember those who gave their lives in service to this country. For some families, that day carries deep weight, names, faces, and memories that are still very real.

Same day. Completely different meaning, depending on whether you understand the cost.

Communion can be the same way. It can become something we simply do, or it can become something that stops us in our tracks.

Jesus didn’t give us Communion as a routine. He gave it so we would remember.

I. Remembrance Is a Command

When Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of Me,” He wasn’t making a suggestion. He was giving a command.

Communion isn’t optional for the believer. It’s an act of obedience. Whether you understand it as a sacrament, where God is actively working through the act, or as an ordinance, an act of obedience that symbolizes what Christ has done, either way, it is something Jesus told His followers to do.

But this obedience isn’t meant to be empty. It’s not just about taking the bread and the cup. It’s about engaging the heart.

It’s possible to go through the motions outwardly and miss it inwardly. But Jesus never called us to hollow actions. He calls us to wholehearted obedience, to slow down, reflect, and remember with intention.

The early church understood this. In Acts 2:42, we see that they devoted themselves to the breaking of bread. This wasn’t occasional. It was central.

II. Remembrance Is Deeply Rooted

When Jesus shared the bread and the cup with His disciples, He was sitting at a Passover meal. That matters.

Passover was already a memorial. It was how God’s people remembered their deliverance from Egypt. Year after year, they gathered, ate, and retold the story of how God brought them out of bondage.

But that story pointed forward.

Every lamb that was sacrificed, every door marked with blood, every Passover meal was preparing the way for something greater. When Jesus took the bread and the cup, He wasn’t starting something new out of nowhere. He was stepping into a story that had been unfolding for generations.

And in that moment, He made it clear.

He is the Lamb.

He is the sacrifice.

As Paul later wrote, “Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us.”

Just like in Egypt, the difference was the blood. Not their strength. Not their goodness. The blood.

And when we come to the table today, that’s what we’re remembering. Not just a historical event, but a completed work. Deliverance, not from Pharaoh, but from sin.

III. Remembrance Refocuses the Heart

You can’t look at the cross and stay casual - You just can't.

When you truly remember what Jesus endured, it brings everything back into focus. Isaiah 53 reminds us that He was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. This wasn’t symbolic suffering. It was real.

At the cross, pride fades. Distractions lose their grip. The things that seemed so important start to shrink.

Why? Because you’re confronted with the truth.

You didn’t earn this. You didn’t contribute to it. Jesus took your place.

And when you slow down enough to truly remember that, it does something deep in your heart. It humbles you. It centers you. It draws you back to what matters most.

A Personal Encounter at the Table

There are moments when remembrance becomes more than reflection, it becomes encounter.

During a time of Communion in seminary, while wrestling with God’s call on my life, I shared how the Holy Spirit began to press something deeper into my heart. As I prayed, I sensed a clear and repeated prompting: “Go lower.”

What started as a simple moment at the altar turned into full surrender. And in that moment came a clear word: “No more half measures.”

In other words, God was telling me that He wanted my whole life, not just what I was willing to give.

That moment didn’t come from rushing through Communion. It came from staying, listening, and being open to what God wanted to do.

While not every time at the table will be dramatic or supernatural, there’s a truth worth holding onto: when you come expecting nothing, you’ll leave with nothing. But when you come open and expectant, God meets His people.

As we closed, we returned to the question:

What are we remembering?

We’re remembering the body that was broken.

We’re remembering the blood that was shed.

We’re remembering the price that was paid.

And we’re remembering the One who gave Himself willingly, Jesus Christ.

Communion is not just a ritual. It is remembrance. And remembrance changes how you approach the table.

You don’t come casually.
You don’t come distracted.
You come humbly.
You come gratefully.
And you come expecting.

Because when you truly remember what Christ has done, you don’t walk away the same.

If you would like to listen to the message, you can do that by clicking here.

– Pastor Charley Munro
Living Grace Church, Tyler, Texas

This Sunday marked the conclusion of our 26-part sermon series, Overheard. For months, we’ve listened in on real conversations Jesus had with real people, moments that revealed His authority, His compassion, and His power to transform lives. From Zacchaeus in a tree to a grieving Mary at the tomb, every conversation carried weight, and none of it was random.

All of it was leading somewhere.

This final message brought us to , the Great Commission in Matthew 28:16–20. After everything the disciples had seen, the miracles, the teachings, the cross, and the empty tomb, Jesus gave them a clear and direct command. And with that command comes a question that applies to every one of us:

What will you do with what Jesus said?

The message centered around three truths from this passage.

First, Jesus has all authority. He didn’t offer a suggestion or open a discussion. He declared that all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Him. That means His words aren’t optional. They carry weight. They demand a response. We don’t get to treat Jesus as a teacher when it’s convenient and ignore Him when it’s not. If He is Lord, then His authority shapes how we live.

Second, we are called to go and make disciples. This isn’t something that happens by accident. Jesus didn’t tell His followers to wait for people to come to them. He told them to go. That means going into the places God has already positioned us, our workplaces, our neighborhoods, our daily routines, and being intentional about sharing the gospel. Our lives matter, yes, but words matter too. The gospel is news, and news has to be spoken.

Third, we are not alone. Jesus ends this command with a promise: “I am with you always.” That changes everything. The responsibility to go is real, but the pressure to produce results isn’t ours to carry. God is the one who changes hearts. Our role is to be faithful, to speak, to step forward in obedience, trusting that He is with us in every moment.

One of the most powerful illustrations from the message was the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. It started small, something that could have been contained. But the warning didn’t go out the way it should have. Messages were delayed, directions were wrong, and by the time people realized the danger, it was too late.

The problem wasn’t just the fire. The problem was that the warning didn’t reach people in time.
That hits close to home.

We’ve been given the message of the gospel. We know the truth. And there are people all around us who need to hear it. This isn’t theoretical. This is real, and it’s eternal. We’re not bystanders. We’re the ones carrying the message.

So it comes back to that question again:

What will you do with what Jesus said?

Will you obey?
Will you go?
Will you speak?

Because if we stay silent, it’s not because people didn’t know -

It’s because we didn’t go.

– Pastor Charley Munro
Living Grace Church, Tyler, Texas

This Sunday, we “Overheard” a conversation that began with failure and ended with restoration.

The sermon was based on the Scripture from John 21:15–19.

After the resurrection, the disciples found themselves back at what was familiar, fishing on the sea. But Peter was not the same man. He had denied Jesus three times, and that moment had not left him. Then Jesus met him by a fire and asked him a simple but piercing question, “Do you love Me?” Three times Peter responded, and three times Jesus called him forward. What looked like the end of Peter’s story became the place where everything changed.

First, we saw a Failure.

Peter’s failure was not small or private. It happened in the open, under pressure, and it happened three times. He had once been confident, certain he would never deny the Lord. Yet when the moment came, fear took over. Luke 22:61–62 shows us the weight of that moment when Peter realized what he had done and went out weeping bitterly. That kind of failure leaves a mark. It brings shame, regret, and a deep sense of disappointment. And the truth is, we all know something about that. Failure often comes when we trust ourselves more than we should, and when the pressure rises, we fall.

Second, we saw a Restoration.

When Jesus meets Peter again, He does not begin with condemnation. He begins with a question. “Do you love Me?” This was not meant to shame Peter, but to restore him. Each question brought Peter face to face with his denial, but also gave him the opportunity to respond rightly. This was personal, intentional grace. Jesus did not ignore the failure, He dealt with it. 1 John 1:9 reminds us that when we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive and cleanse us. Restoration begins when we stop making excuses and come honestly before God. Like David in Psalm 51, it is the broken and contrite heart that God receives.

Finally, we saw a Recommission.

Jesus did not stop at forgiveness. Each time Peter affirmed his love, Jesus entrusted him with responsibility. He was called to care for the Lord’s people. This was not random. It was a clear picture of recommissioning. The same man who failed was now being trusted again. Ephesians 2:10 reminds us that we are created for good works. God does not just bring us back, He sends us forward. Peter’s story did not end in failure. In Acts 2, he stood boldly and preached, and the Bible tells us that about three-thousand came to faith. What had once broken him became the very place where God prepared him for what was ahead.

We closed with the question: What do you do when you have failed?

You come back to Jesus.
You stop hiding.
You bring it into the light.
You let Him restore what has been broken.

Failure is not the end of the story. It is often the place where Jesus steps in, does His work, and leads you forward with purpose.

- Pastor Charley Munro
Living Grace Church
Tyler, Texas

Why is it called "Good" Friday anyway?

I never experienced a more joyous Easter morning than the one that followed a heartbreaking Good Friday. You see, we can’t really comprehend or appreciate the joy of the resurrection until we’ve sat in the weight of the cross. We live in a time where people want to skip straight to Sunday. They want the victory without the suffering. They want the empty tomb without the bloody, uncomfortable cross. But if you don’t walk through Friday, you can never fully understand the euphoric joy that comes on Sunday.

So here’s the question you need to sit with: why is it called “Good” Friday? What was good about that day? A man was betrayed, falsely accused, mocked, beaten, and spit on. A crown of thorns was pressed into His head. Nails were driven through His hands and feet. He was lifted up on a cross and left to die. What about that is good?

And here’s an even more personal question: why did He have to die?

He had to die because we were filled with sin. He had to die because we could not make ourselves right with God. He had to die because justice demanded a payment, and we could never pay it.

So He did.

It was your sin and my sin that put Him on that cross. That’s not just a theological statement, that’s a personal reality. Every lie, every proud thought, every act of rebellion, every moment we chose our way over God’s way, He paid for it.

The cross wasn’t just painful, it was substitution. He stood in our place. He took our penalty. He bore the wrath that we deserved. That was rightfully our cross. And if you’ll slow down long enough to really think about that, it should break your heart.

It should.

Don’t rush past it. Don’t try to clean it up. Don’t try to soften it. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself sit in the weight of what happened that day, because until your heart is broken by the cross, it won’t truly rejoice at the resurrection.

But here’s why it’s called “Good.” It’s called good because that was the day your debt was paid. It’s called good because that was the day justice was satisfied. It’s called good because that was the day mercy was made available. It’s called good because through His death, we can be made right with God. That’s why it’s called Good Friday.

So take time to reflect. Take time to feel the weight of it. Allow yourself to experience, even in a small way, the sorrow of that day. But don’t forget this:

Sunday morning is coming, and while there is weeping in the night, joy comes in the morning!

- Pastor Charley Munro
Living Grace Church, Tyler, Texas

This Sunday, we continued our “Overheard” series by listening in on one of the most hope filled conversations in Scripture.

John 11:25–26: “Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?’”

These are not just comforting words. They are words of authority, spoken into grief, confusion, and the shadow of death. And they force us to face a question every person must answer.

What does Jesus say about death?

In John 11, Lazarus has died. Martha and Mary are grieving. Jesus arrives four days after the funeral, when the tomb has already been sealed and all hope seems gone. But instead of speaking only about a future resurrection, Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
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That was the heart of this message. “Life Over Death” was not just about Lazarus being raised. It was about the gospel itself. Apart from Christ, we are spiritually dead. We cannot save ourselves or raise ourselves. But Jesus speaks life where death seems to have won.

First, we looked at the reality of death.

Martha said, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” She believed in Jesus, but she struggled to understand His timing. That reminds us that faith does not mean we never ask questions. It means we bring those questions to Jesus.

We also saw that Scripture speaks plainly about spiritual death.

Ephesians 2:1 says, “And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins.”

We were not just weak in sin. We were dead. We didn't need advice. We needed resurrection.

Second, we looked at the authority of Jesus.
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By the time Jesus arrived, Lazarus had been dead four days. The funeral was over. The stone was in place. Humanly speaking, nothing could be done.

But Jesus is not limited by what looks final to us.

A dead man can't raise himself. Lazarus came out of the tomb because Jesus called his name. That is also how salvation works. Christ is the One who gives life. He is not just a comforter at the grave. He is the Lord of life.
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Third, we looked at the gift of new life.

When Lazarus came out, he was alive, but still wrapped in grave clothes. That's a picture of the Christian life. When Jesus saves a person, He truly gives new life. But there are often still old habits, fears, and struggles that cling to them.

Second Corinthians 5:17 says, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.”

Jesus doesn't just improve a life. He makes a person new. And Romans 6:4 says we are to “walk in newness of life.” That means this new life is not only for someday. It changes how we live right now.

We closed by returning to the question at the center of the sermon.

What does Jesus say about death?

He says death is real, but it does not have the final word for those who believe in Him. He says the grave is not the end of the story. He says life is found in Him alone.

And He still asks the same question He asked Martha.

“Do you believe this?”

– Pastor Charley Munro
Living Grace Church, Tyler, Texas