Introduction

Some of the most life-changing sermons are preached without pulpits. A handwritten note in a mailbox. A casserole on a front porch. A hand on a shoulder in a waiting room. A smile across a sanctuary. You have seen these sermons. Many of you have preached them. And if you listen closely, you can almost hear them humming with heaven’s melody: love that puts others first, service that keeps going when it’s tired, and homes that turn into havens.

We gather today to remember that the family of God has always grown on the warm soil of kindness. Love is the language that needs no translation. Service is the song that never goes out of style. Hospitality is the hearth that never grows cold. Could it be that your kitchen table is a mission field? Could it be that your spare seat is an answered prayer? Could it be that the next chapter of someone’s faith story begins with your “Welcome, come in”?

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote, “The Church is the Church only when it exists for others.” These words land like a compass on our hearts. God did not save us to sit on the sidelines. He saved us to stand in the streams of daily life with sleeves rolled up and hearts wide open. Streets and schools and offices and living rooms—these are the places where grace gets hands and feet. These are the places where the gospel sounds like laughter, looks like an extra plate, and feels like a quiet visit in a hard week.

The apostle Paul hands us a short passage that reads like a porch light for our souls. It’s simple enough for a child to memorize and strong enough to hold up a weary adult. It offers a way of life that makes neighbors take notice and makes heaven smile. Here is our Scripture for today:

Romans 12:10-13 (KJV) 10 Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another; 11 Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord; 12 Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer; 13 Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.

There it is—love that prefers others; service with a steady flame; hope that sings in the storm; prayer that keeps knocking; generosity that meets needs; hospitality that opens doors. What if this became the rhythm of our week? What if our church family smelled like soup and sounded like laughter and looked like chairs pulled a little closer? What if the schedule on your phone told a story of faces, not just tasks?

You don’t need a stage to change a city. You need a surrendered heart, a willing pair of hands, and a key that turns in your own front door. A faithful phone call to the shut-in. A text that says, “Thinking of you.” A ride to the doctor. A table with one more chair. These small seeds grow tall in God’s garden. Heaven keeps careful records of quiet kindness. Angels lean in when a saint whispers, “How can I help?”

Let’s ask God to make us that kind of people—people who go first in honor, who burn hot with holy zeal, who hold on to hope in the rain, who pray like it all matters, and who open our homes like we open our Bibles: often, gladly, and with expectation.

Opening Prayer: Father, thank You for the tender truth of Your Word. Thank You for a love that found us and a grace that holds us. We ask for hearts that prefer others, hands that serve with zeal, and eyes that look for the person on the edges. Kindle in us a steady fire—rejoicing in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Teach us to turn our homes into havens, our tables into altars, and our calendars into gifts. Place names on our minds even now—neighbors, friends, strangers—whom we can bless this week. Holy Spirit, fill us with courage, compassion, and cheerful generosity. Lord Jesus, be honored in every act of love that leaves this room. We say yes to Your call. In Your strong and gentle name we pray, Amen.

Love that Puts Others First

Love like this begins with how we see people. We look at a brother or sister and say, you matter. Your needs matter. Your story matters. Your day matters to me.

Paul uses strong family words. Warm affection. Tender care. Real honor. This is not a thin smile in a hallway. This is a choice to lift another person up in small ways all week long. We make room for someone else to be seen.

Honor is simple and strong. We take interest. We ask good questions and then we wait for the answer. We remember names. We notice effort. We speak about others like they are in the room.

Honor moves our bodies too. We give our seat. We let another voice lead. We choose the slow lane so someone else can catch up. We send the first text. We book the first visit. We make the first apology.

Honor watches the tongue. We refuse to cut down. We choose words that build a house, not words that shake the walls. We praise in public. We correct in private. We speak truth with a soft tone and steady care.

Honor celebrates. We cheer when others succeed. We do not keep score. We do not compare gifts. We bless the way God uses them. We thank God for the part they play.

Honor shows up in plans. We make space in our calendar for people. We hold time for those who need it most. We are willing to be interrupted. We keep a pace that allows love to move.

Paul also speaks of zeal. He calls us to stay awake in our work. No dragging feet. No half-hearted hand. We bring energy to every act of care. We act like the task before us carries the name of Jesus.

This means we serve with focus. We show up on time. We finish what we start. We reply when we say we will. We bring tools. We bring a plan. We bring a smile.

Zeal needs a fire inside. Fervent in spirit. A warm heart that does not cool in a week. We feed that fire with Scripture. With songs in the car. With prayer on the way to the store. With quiet moments before the day begins.

We also guard the fire. We rest. We say yes with wisdom. We ask for help when the load is heavy. We keep short accounts. We release grudges fast. A light heart can love longer.

Service has a center. We serve the Lord in everything. We fold a stack of chairs with Him in mind. We send an email with Him in mind. We hold a crying child with Him in mind. Hidden tasks shine when He is the audience.

Hope has a sound. Paul says, rejoice in hope. This is joy that looks forward. It smiles at promises still on the way. It remembers that God keeps His word.

Hope changes the feel of a room. It steadies the voice. It lifts the chin. It gives courage to try again. It lets us give others one more chance. It keeps us gentle when days are long.

Then comes pressure. Paul speaks of trouble. He calls for patience in it. Patience is quiet strength. It takes a breath. It waits without harsh words. It trusts that God is at work even when we cannot see it yet.

Patience moves toward people. It sits with the grieving. It listens to the frustrated. It gives time for healing. It allows slow growth. It accepts limits without anger.

Prayer ties it all together. Paul urges constant prayer. We turn to God again and again. Short prayers in the morning. Short prayers at noon. Short prayers at night. Little arrows sent all day.

We make habits that help. We keep a list of names. We set an alarm to pause and pray. We pray before a meeting. We pray after a visit. We text, “I just prayed for you,” and then we really do.

Prayer keeps love warm. It keeps bitterness out. It keeps our eyes on Jesus while our hands serve people. It brings the Spirit’s strength into simple acts. It keeps us kind when we feel thin.

Paul then turns to sharing. He calls us to meet the needs of the saints. That means our money, our time, and our skills are tools for care. We plan to give. We plan to show up.

We can set aside a small fund. Groceries for a family in a tight week. Gas for someone’s commute. A bill paid without fanfare. A gift card left in a mailbox with a note and a promise of prayer.

We can give hours. A ride across town. Childcare for parents who need a quiet hour. Help with forms. Help with a move. A repair done on a weekend. A meal packed for work.

Skills matter too. Résumé help. A link to a job. A lesson on budgeting. A simple home fix. A fresh haircut before an interview. Each skill becomes a channel of mercy.

Paul also says to be given to hospitality. That means we lean toward welcome. We keep an open door in our hearts and in our plans. We hold our space as a gift.

Hospitality can be plain and kind. A pot of soup. A clean table. A place to sit without worry. No need for fancy. People need presence more than polish. Warmth does the work.

We can prepare for it. Keep extra bowls and spoons. Keep tea or coffee ready. Keep a blanket on a chair. Keep a board game on a shelf. Small things make guests feel at ease.

Hospitality fits many homes. A tiny apartment can host two friends and a simple meal. A porch can hold three chairs and a quiet talk. A park can become a space of care with a picnic and prayer.

It also fits many people. The talkative can tell stories and draw others in. The quiet can notice details and make sure everyone is okay. The planner can set dates. The flexible can welcome last-minute needs.

Safety and wisdom matter. We welcome with care. We honor family rhythms. We host in ways that protect the vulnerable. We involve others when needs are complex. Love is warm and wise at the same time.

When a church lives this way, honor gains a body and a voice. Zeal gives it hands and feet. Hope gives it a steady heartbeat. Prayer gives it breath. Sharing gives it reach. Welcome gives it a home.

Serve with Zeal in Hope Endurance and Prayer

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