ENCOUNTER: To the Ends of the Earth

Pastor Dennis Miller | April 26, 2026

Grace to you and peace, friends.

This week we kicked off a brand new teaching series through the first five chapters of the book of Acts, and I have to tell you — I’m already fired up about where this is going. But before we get into the supernatural fireworks of Pentecost and the explosive growth of the early church, we have to start where Luke starts us. We have to start in the waiting room.

And nobody likes the waiting room.

I’ve said it many times from the pulpit: no one likes change but a wet baby — and even the baby doesn’t enjoy it much. But waiting? Waiting might actually be harder than change. At least when change comes, something is happening. Waiting is just… waiting. Sitting with the uncertainty. Trusting when you can’t see. Holding on when you don’t know what you’re holding on for.

I know what that feels like. About ten years ago, on November 18th, 2016, Rachel — your first lady, the woman who just this past Sunday led us in singing “Goodness of God” — had an anaphylactic reaction to some medication. We were in Columbus, and I rushed her to Riverside Methodist Hospital at OSU. Her blood pressure had dropped to 75 over 36. They put her in the ICU and for 18 hours I sat in that room, scared to death, praying and waiting. Come on, Lord. Come on. The doctors cycled in and out. Her sister drove straight up from Lexington, Kentucky, without stopping. We prayed. We waited. Those were the longest 18 hours of my life. She ended up in the hospital for another week and a half after that while they worked to get fluid off her lungs. Rachel Miller is a miracle, plain and simple, and I praise God for her every single day.

But I tell you that story because some of you know exactly what that waiting feels like. Maybe you’re waiting on biopsy results right now. Maybe you’re sitting in a hospital waiting room as someone you love goes through surgery. Maybe you’re waiting for that job situation to finally change, for that promotion that keeps passing you by, for retirement to come, for a relationship you’ve been longing for, or for the baby you’ve been praying over. Maybe — and I say this with a smile but also with complete sincerity — some of you are waiting for the Cincinnati Reds to win the World Series again. We’re all waiting for something.

And that’s exactly where the disciples found themselves as Acts chapter 1 opens.

Think about the roller coaster they had been riding. For three years they walked every dusty road with Jesus. They went on mission trips with Him. They watched Him heal the sick and raise Lazarus from the dead. And then they watched Him get crucified, and the bottom fell out of everything they thought they understood. Then — another change — He was alive again. They walked the Emmaus road with Him. They had breakfast with Him at the Sea of Galilee. And now, in Acts 1, He ascends into heaven right in front of their eyes, and He tells them: Wait.

Can you imagine? After everything they’d been through, Jesus looks at His disciples and says, don’t go anywhere, don’t do anything — just wait in Jerusalem for a promise you don’t fully understand yet.

So what do we do in seasons of waiting? I want to offer two very practical things that Acts 1 teaches us.

First, we need to anticipate a supernatural move of God. Jesus told them in verse 8: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” I want you to notice the word He kept using. You. Not just the apostles. Not just the senior pastor. Not just the worship team. You. Every single person filled with the Holy Spirit is called to be a witness.

I’ll be honest with you — I figured out pretty quickly when I came to Ginghamsburg that I can’t be Mike Slaughter, Adam Hamilton, Chuck Swindoll, or Billy Graham. All I am is a tall, middle-aged preacher who rides a motorcycle, has a beautiful wife, and an ugly golf swing. I’m an ordinary guy. But I have the Holy Spirit, and so do you. And if every single person in our congregation would lead just one person to Jesus over the next year and bring them into the life of the church, we would double. That’s not a pastoral strategy — that’s the Book of Acts. It starts in Jerusalem, meaning right in your own home, your own neighborhood, your own workplace. The greatest mission field in your life is the people you already talk to every single day.

Second, in times of waiting, we must unify in prayer. After Jesus ascended, the disciples went to the upper room, and Scripture tells us they prayed constantly — all of them, together. And when I look at that list of names, it blows my mind. Simon the Zealot is on that list. A zealot was someone whose entire worldview was built around violently overthrowing the Roman occupiers. And right next to him, in effect, is Matthew — the tax collector who funded the Roman war machine. These two men, anywhere else in the ancient world, would have torn each other apart. But in the presence of Jesus, they became brothers.

The early church was messy. Our church gets messy too. But they unified on the essentials, and they prayed together, and they waited together. And what came next changed the entire world.

We are in a season of waiting right now. I believe that with everything in me. And I also believe — because Acts 2:17 tells me — that God says, “I will pour out my Spirit on all people.” Sons and daughters will prophesy. Young men will see visions. Old men will dream dreams.

So here’s my prayer for you, and for me, and for our church: God, give us a dream bigger than ourselves. A dream we could never come up with on our own. Use us. Fill us. We’re waiting — and we’re expectant.

The Holy Spirit is coming. Don’t miss it.